May 31, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

1. Gather recommendations from your friend as to the best self-tanner to use.

2. Vaguely remember reading something about self-tanner recommendations and application tips on somebody’s blog. Google it, unsuccessfully. Browse a few; fail to locate whatever it was you read.

3. Go to Target in search of recommended self-tanner. Fail to locate it.

4. Locate bronzer instead, as suggested by Amalah, completely unsure as to how it’s going to look on you. Debate over whether “Baked Bronze” is lighter or darker than “Baked Tan.” Buy the “Baked Bronze” and hope for the best.

5. Go to Rite Aid in search of recommended self-tanner. Locate and purchase it, along with the special oil-free self-tanner for faces.

6. Go for a run. (Yes, it’s a vital part of the beauty regimen.)

7. Run water for a bath.

8. Remember you’ve needed to change your toenail polish for the past two weeks. Remove old toenail polish. Worry for the thousandth time that your toenail is actually going to fall off one day. Hope desperately that today’s not the day. Note that it hurts like hell. Again. Wonder if medical attention would be wise. Again. Decide no. Again.

9. Bathe. Shave your legs well, as you’re not going to want to shave after you’ve applied the self-tanner because it’ll scrape the tan right off.

10. Exfoliate. Be sure to use an exfoliant that’s sea salt-based. That way, you can literally rub salt into the wounds you’ve just created by shaving. You’ll know you’re on the right track when your skin turns pink. Continue exfoliating until the skin is red and raw.

11. After the exfoliating is done, wash off with soap and water. Because, of course, the sea salt-based exfoliating scrub contains glycerin, and the glycerin will reduce the efficacy of the self-tanner, in which case you’ll be spending Wednesday night doing this all over again.

12. Dry completely.

13. Apply self-tanner. Try to avoid rough skin like knees and elbows and all fabric within fifty yards. Attempt to keep the amount of self-tanner you spill on the floor to a minimum. Be glad they’re hardwood floors — the self-tanner blends right in.

14. Wonder how to prevent your hands from being twice as dark as the rest of you. Have visions of baby wipes and suddenly remember on whose blog you read self-tanner tips. Make a mental note to review that post before the next time you apply self-tanner.

15. Dance around naked for five minutes, until which time the bottle tells you you can put clothes on.

16. Apply special oil-free self-tanner for faces to face.

17. Assume the five minutes is up, because, really, you’ve got to get on with your exciting life. Get dressed.

18. Skip dinner.

19. Paint your toenails instead. Lament again over the ugly toenail, but take solace in the fact that the nail polish covers it up. Does nothin’ for the pain, though.

20. Blog about the nineteen-step process it takes to beautify oneself and desperately wish you’d been born male so you could’ve avoided this whole shenanigan. Wonder if you couldn’t prep for the NYC Marathon in less time than this took.

May 29, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

This class reunion thing should be interesting. Of course I’m curious to know what some people are up to, but the people I care most about I’m still in touch with. More interesting will be people’s reactions to me and what I’m doing.

High school is a strange place — or maybe it was just mine — but I always felt like there was a lot of pigeon-holing going on. You were an “athlete” or a “band geek” or one of “the smart kids.” Me? I was all three. Plus I did other random extracurriculars like art and newspaper. Despite all these activities and potential labels, one of the most defining characteristics assigned to me was that of “Catholic school girl.” It was entirely accurate, and entirely not.

Yes, I had attended a Catholic school for middle school, which was relatively unusual in Janesville. Of the 350 people in my freshman class, maybe 15 of them had come from Catholic schools. The rest of everyone else had attended public school together since kindergarten. Or it seemed that way. But, no, I did not wear my religion on my sleeve. Nor my church’s morals, for that matter. (I was the girl who knew everything there was to know about safe sex. And counseled her friends on such topics. At age 13. It’s a good thing my parents didn’t monitor my phone calls like the NSA does.)

Due to the wide recognition of me as a “good girl,” certain social invitations were not extended, primarily of the Sex, Drugs & Rock ‘n Roll variety. (My parents would be beyond relieved to know this. We’ll not tell them.) This was a role other people thrust upon me, because I sure wasn’t the one turning down invitations. If I had a dollar for every time someone expressed surprise at seeing a drink in my hand at a graduation party, I could’ve paid cash for my first semester of college. Don’t get me wrong, I could drink, swear, and lay on the sexual innuendo with the best of them. (Often better.) My friend Anthony and I had an on-going debate as to whether I was a good girl with a bad girl exterior, or vice versa. Four years and I don’t think we ever settled it.

“High school was the best four years of my life.” Oh, how I shudder when I hear people say that! High school was the best four years of my life, to date. And then I went to college. (My god, nothing could be worse than the hell that is middle school, and I actually had it pretty easy — only one trip to the shrink!) The thing is, I knew high school would be great, I knew I would love it, and I also knew it was going to be quickly overtaken by other, more amazing events. Unlike some of my friends, I have many happy memories from high school, I met some of my best friends there, I had some really valuable learning experiences there (how to play soccer, the fact that silver chloride will turn certain organic materials brown when it interacts with them, like, say, your skin and how to send someone a fuck-you-gram with less than ten minutes’ thought) and I still rely on facts and figures and ideas learned in my favorite classes. But at this point, there’s no way I could claim high school to be the best four years of my life with a straight face.

If I’d outlined my life ten years from graduation, the picture I would have painted would look something like this: after having gone to a kick-ass law school, I’d be practicing environmental law in a major city, either for an instant-name-recognition firm or for a Fortune 100 company. Husband, maybe. Kids, definitely not — I’ve gotta make partner before I can consider children. House, awesome. And huge. (Clearly I didn’t know much about real estate prices in major cities, but the house I envisioned would totally have been possible on my projected salary, if only I lived in Janesville. In which case my projected salary wouldn’t have been all that accurate.) Political involvement, likely. I wasn’t sure if it would be limited to volunteering/fundraising, or if I’d be lobbying or actually running for office, but it was in there. (Also a possibility — being married to the candidate.)

When we did senior mentions or whatever they were called (you know, you vote for “Class Clown” and “Best Dressed” and “Most Athletic”) I was a little miffed that I wasn’t selected for “Most Likely to Be President.” The title went to our Salutatorian, who also took home “Most Likely to Succeed” honors. I honestly didn’t care about “Most Likely to Succeed.” I already knew that my own assessment of my success was far more important than that of my classmates (thanks, middle school, for that valuable lesson!) and I think the electorate confused “perceived smartest” with “likely to be President” and I would just like to say, um, clearly not, and hello, people, WHY AM I NOT MOST LIKELY TO BE PRESIDENT????

Ahem. Am not bitter at all. (Why do I even remember this crap? Oh yeah, cuz I probably did the layout for it in the newspaper.)

My life today…it all seems so natural to me. Sure, I got some of the details wrong, but I haven’t really strayed that much from my high school vision. Still, I think a lot of my classmates will be surprised. My work? Maybe not that surprising. Living in California will definitely be a shock to some and will generate a lot of conversation among others. Being single and childless? I would hope that’s expected, but I’m sure it’ll surprise many.

At some point in college my goal became bringing someone shocking to our class reunion. (I wasn’t really counting on having the obligatory spouse.) Perhaps that someone is me.

May 26, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

Mmmmm. I really wanted to write tonight, but my body is sending me straight to bed. My very relaxed, almost-knot-free body. You can blame Troy or Tyler or Trevor or whatever his name is…I forgot it approximately two seconds into the massage. (I can tell you, however, that he is quite the eye candy with his curly blond hair, 6-foot tall athletic build and fabulous smile. Not that I noticed or anything.)

Whoever he is, he seems to think I should visit him again. Soon. For a good long time. Something about the knots the size Texas that inhabit the muscles over my shoulder blades. Ok, sign me up! At this point, I feel so good I’d agree to just about anything.

May 24, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

Ahh, California. By far one of the best things about Northern California has got to be one’s proximity to wine country. And for all of the “out West” things I haven’t done, I’ve taken full advantage of my wine-related opportunities.

Sonoma Valley

Again

Um, these next ones I don’t remember taking, but there they were on the camera! Must’ve been after the first winery. Or four.

I think I was trying to capture the rolling hillside idea. Instead, you get raindrops.

And traffic. Bet you don’t see that every day!

Typically I keep a couple of bottles of wine around the house. Often they aren’t consumed until I take them to someone else’s place for dinner. Now, however? It’s more like a couple of cases.

The spoils from Napa (when Mom & Dad were here).

My parents, for reasons I do not understand, actually drink — and enjoy — white wines. Typically French varietals. I turn my nose up at most of those, and wait patiently until we get to the red half of the tasting menu. Every time, Mom looks at me funny.

“What? I don’t drink whites. I’ve never liked Chardonnay,” I protest.

“If it were 1982, you’d be drinking Chardonnay (with the rest of the yuppies),” she retorts, with the obvious implication that what I profess to like depends largely on what’s popular at the time.

Eh, maybe. I actually found a couple of white wines this weekend worth remembering…a Chardonnay from Sebastiani that I didn’t hate and a Viognier from Castle that I rather enjoyed. But I still like reds better.

The take from Sonoma this weekend.

You know what I could really use these days? No, not the referral number to Alcoholics Anonymous. A wine rack!

May 19, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

Ugh. Yes, I’ve been a tad busy this week. Not like a few weeks ago, but busy enough.

After hearing yet another newspiece on my way to work this morning, I thought, ARGH, FINE, YES, I WILL WRITE ABOUT THIS. So, there’s a real post coming. But it will be serious. And long. And serious.

But, here! Have some random thoughts for your Friday!

A couple of weeks ago, I drove this:

That would be a Mercedes-Benz CLK 320.
And yes, the one I drove was, in fact, a silver convertible.

So, will someone please alert the devil that my soul is now for sale? Or at least my time? Somewhere in the vicinity of $500/hour?

In a similar vein, if you’ve ever wondered what $15 million can get you in DC, wonder no more. I’m pretty sure my apartment is smaller than one of the eleven bathrooms. But clearly the real estate market is cooling — the list price was another $5 mil.

Moving on to free things… Thanks to all of you for your technology feedback. While I still don’t know what the problem is, I’ve decided to let sleeping blogs lie. I’d rather spend time writing actual posts than futsing with (swearing at) mediocre design tools from Microsoft. I am *this close* to purchasing a Mac. But I’d probably hate it for seventy different reasons than why I hate PCs. Sigh.

And, hooray! My friend Matt moved out from DC to San Francisco. You have NO IDEA how exciting it is to have (old) friends less than 100 miles away! Sure, I’ve made some great new friends, but it’s just different. We’re going to go drink the week’s stress away in Sonoma this weekend. You’ll have pictures if I manage to balance the camera in one hand and a glass of cabernet in the other.

Finally, birthday wishes go out to Alan, who is celebrating the first of many 29th birthdays today. Have a good one!