October 16, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

Auburn State Recreational Area — hundreds of miles of trails, but not a single map or park ranger to consult!

Never hike alone. Don’t go running alone. In fact, don’t go anywhere alone ever again, or a mountain lion will eat you!!!

It’s not really fall yet in the valley, but it is up here.

Can anyone identify this tree?

I parked at the bottom of the valley, on the banks of the lake, which meant that I had to walk up to the trailhead — 1.4 miles, all uphill. It put the “hill” setting on the eliptical trainer to shame!

Leaving the park, I noticed the parking lot just past the turn-in that would’ve been less than a quarter of a mile walk to the trailhead. Downhill. Awesome.

And then there was the time when, hearing a biker approaching from behind, I started to move out of the way. Then he spoke to me and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Um, if there’s someone there to witness it? Yeah, you’re a dork.

See all the day’s pictures here.

October 12, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

I read a post last week that is the embodiment of one of my biggest fears. It shook me then, and it’s still rattling around in my brain, so I guess I need to write about it. Lucky you.

The details don’t matter much, so here’s the gist: husband and wife have stressful weekend, get in fight over who gets to do what he/she wants and who gets shafted. She’s angry that he shut down instead of talking about it. He accuses her of not knowing when to stop. She throws something at him, misses and breaks a window instead. They scuffle, yell, trade “I wish I’d never met you” sorts of words. They take a break for a few hours, life goes on.

…get in fight over who gets to do what they want and who gets shafted.

I read this entry with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, because I have had this fight on a number of occasions. Over stupid stuff, over important stuff, you name it.

…he shut down instead of talking about it.

I read this entry with my heart pounding in my chest, the adrenaline clearly kicking in, because I have sooooo been there. A lot.

She throws something at him…

I read this entry, nodding my head in agreement, because I have wanted, so desperately wanted to throw something at someone in the middle of one of these encounters, but it’s a move that is ever-so-much more effective in person than on the phone. But there were MANY TIMES that it was a tough call. In my mind’s eye, I could see the phone slicing through the air, in slow motion, about to hit the floor with a sharp crack, preferably with pieces flying in several directions.

I read this entry and noticed my inner turmoil — relief that I’m not the only one who finds herself in these situations and reacts this way, coupled with the disheartening knowledge that it will happen. Again. To me, to others.

I know exactly how she felt. I know it would eat at me, too. The frustration of not getting the support you want/need/deserve from a partner? Been there. In a match-up of my needs vs. your needs, sometimes there really is no compromise position. The refusal to discuss the issue? Been there, done that, have the t-shirt. (Also, the hour-long discussion of the issue that resolves exactly nothing? Oooh, boy, been there, done that, wrote the freaking book on it.) The seeming hopelessness of the situation is tough to bear.

A lot of relationships wouldn’t make it past this kind of fight. A lot of relationships shouldn’t make it past this kind of fight. And even the ones that do, how can they not harbor a little kernel of doubt that maybe it should have ended? And — oh god – how do you handle this when you’re already married to the person and ending the relationship isn’t as viable an option as when you’re just dating? (I believe, in my mental ramblings, that this is where I started shaking.) What then?

I think this is when you reach down, and find the best, most forgiving part of you and look for the best, most redeeming quality about him, and you take a lot of deep breaths, and you move forward.

…life goes on.

And this, then, is love.

Filed under: Uncategorized

In the words of Dave Barry, I am not making this up. But somebody else clearly is.

October 12 is International Moment of Frustration Scream Day — To share any or all of our frustrations, all citizens of the world will go outdoors at twelve hundred hours Greenwich time and scream for thirty seconds. We will all feel better, or Earth will go off its orbit.

I can think of any number of reasons to observe this, uh, holiday, not least of which is to prevent the Earth from spinning wildly out of control. How ’bout you?

October 11, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

It was rainy and cold for a few days last week. And by “cold” I mean “the insolent weather refused to reach 70 degrees for the high.”

And I was peeved.

There are certain California Things that I find creeping into my life. I think or do these California Things without being fully aware of them. Like how fresh avocado makes everything taste better. Or being miffed that October had the audacity to bring with it temps in the sixties. As if! Yeah, I know it’s fall and all, but it shouldn’t be that cold until November, at least!

The weather when I was back East was a big change for me. I was baffled by the cloud cover — there were days I didn’t need my sunglasses! And it rained! Not just watering-the-grass sort of rain, but honest-to-goodness storms with thunder that woke me from a deep sleep and lightening that crackled, the likes of which I haven’t experienced since moving to California.

But even more telling than my inability to comprehend conditions with greater than 30% relative humidity, is how I dress. I have lots of stylish, attractive black/gray/navy clothes, and I wear them often. But I also wear colors, real colors. In addition to the color palette, I aim to be a bit more “edgy” on the days I don’t have to be Conservative Professional Suit-Wearer.

Never was this difference more apparent than when I walked down the streets of DC, surrounded by a sea of people in drab business attire, me wearing crisp white pants, a bright pink screen-printed t-shirt* and an olive blazer. Despite the compliments I received, it was definitely a “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore” moment. I almost felt guilty, walking through the building, like my clothes were too loud, too colorful, too happy for the serious business at hand.

Eighteen months here and I kvetch about the “cold” weather (while deep down being happy that it actually felt like fall for a few days) and I wear bright colors, even for somber occasions like work. They’re subtle changes, and not likely to hurt anyone, but they’re changes nonetheless. Changes I hadn’t counted on. I mean, soon I’ll think that California can rightfully dictate national environmental policy! But the silver lining is that I am comfortable, happy even, out here. I don’t look forward to touching down at the Sacramento airport with the same anticipation I do landing at O’Hare or National, but it is familiar and I take comfort in that.

*I own, like, six t-shirts that don’t get worn to the gym. This one was purchased specifically for this outfit.

Obviously this picture was not intended to showcase my outfit. The corresponding dialog was something like, “No, really, I’m sure the camera works just fine, no need to take a test shot of *blinding flash*…me.” But, hey — check out those perfectly shaped eyebrows! You don’t achieve results like that naturally.

October 9, 2006 | Filed under: Uncategorized

Dear Creepy Guy at the Bar the Other Night:

Didn’t your mother teach you to mind your own business? If we were interested in sharing our conversation with you, we would have made eye contact, perhaps even introduced ourselves, and asked you to join in. You staring at us and then oh-so-smoothly asking, “So, what are you talking about?” isn’t exactly an invitation.

Also, asking us where we live does not say “I’m interested in getting to know more about you” so much as “I’m a stalker and perhaps an axe murderer; get a restraining order now.” Just a little tip for the next time you’re out on the prowl.

I understand that sitting alone at the bar can be a somewhat awkward experience and you have to find some form of entertainment. However, allow me to submit that that’s why there are big-screen TVs with baseball on, viewable from every square inch of this place. And don’t forget about the alcohol.

Now, please hush up and drink your beer.

Love,

Me

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Dear sexysacguy:

Huh.

I have to admit, I had no idea who you were when I saw your e-mail in my in-box. But, I like to live dangerously, so I opened it. Ohhhh, right. You. And here I thought it was spam.

I would have thought that our one meeting, a year ago, which I ended rather abruptly, followed by never hearing from me again would have indicated my level of interest, but occasionally I’m wrong. Guess this is one of those times. So, to answer your question, no, I’m not still at this e-mail address.

Thank you for reminding me how much I hate meeting new people, hate dating new people, and really hate avoiding new people I’m not going to date. How you knew I was on the verge of getting back in the game, I know not, but this refresher course was greatly appreciated.

Love,

Me

PS — There’s no point in using a cute little moniker like “sexysacguy” if you’re going to then give out your business phone number, Mortgage Broker Chris.

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Dear Walter,

Thank you for a lovely meal last night. You sure know how to make a girl feel special — don’t think I didn’t notice that I was the only patron whose napkin you arranged on their lap for them!

However, I just don’t think it’s going to work out. I’ll be the first to admit that short, stocky Italian men with thick accents aren’t my first choice, but I might be willing to overlook that in your case. Rather, I think that the three hour drive and your only being available on Mondays would put a crimp in our relationship. I hope you understand.

Please don’t hate me for completely ignoring your suggested wine. I promise to recommend your restaurant to all my friends. Best of luck with the ladies.

Love,

Me

PS — The blond waitress? I think you could have her. Give it a shot.

PPS — Please find a discrete way to tell your associate that nothing cheapens a nice suit like crappy alterations.

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Dear Creepy Guy on the Plane Last Week:

I know we’ve already had some fun at your expense, but I can’t help adding a little advice.

Do not tell a woman she doesn’t need make-up. Ever. Unless you have personally hosed her down and taken a Dove Cleansing Cloth to her face.

Sure, it sounds flattering, but it IS DECIDEDLY NOT. She is probably wearing make-up. She is probably wearing more make-up than you would ever guess. She is probably toting sixteen pounds of make-up and seven make-up brushes in her checked luggage (because there’s no way in hell all that stuff will fit in a single 1-quart ziploc bag, eff you, TSA) and likely spends upwards of twenty minutes doing her face on a daily basis. All to achieve that “naturally beautiful” look.

To say that she doesn’t need make-up, thereby rendering those thousands of minutes and hundreds of dollars worth of implements unnecessary, borders on insulting.

Also, as someone who aspires to make a fortune selling health and beauty products on the web, good business sense dictates that you ought not go telling women they don’t need make-up. Think about it.

Love,

Me

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Dear Universe,

Enough already! I think you’ve managed to fill my 4th quarter quota for creepy guys and we’re only ten days in! What did I do to deserve this??? (Don’t answer that.)

Kudos on your technique, though — I believe this method of keeping me away from the opposite sex is more effective than a chastity belt. Much more annoying, but better results. Damn you.

Please be nice to me. I’ll be good, I promise.

Love,

Me