Just A Little Somethin' I've Been Workin' On

We're havin' a triathlon in Track Town. See you in Eugene.

I'll keep you posted.
k8

ARE YOU SERIOUS!?!

The last thing I have time to be doing right now is writing a blog.
My day went a little something like this...

Wake up at 6AM to pack for an 11:20AM flight to Portland. (Ride picking me up at 10AM). Feelin' good, making good time, thinking I might get in breakfast AND make some progress on the balance of work due for this project- the whole point of the trip.

And then...

I went to pack my "personal item" a.k.a huge-ass bag that every woman counts as her "purse" for airline travel. (Shut up. You know you do it.) And I discovered that my passport and social security card are MIA. F*CK.

Proceed to STAGE 5 MELTDOWN.

I still haven't located them. But I ran out of time to try. So now I am in Oregon and at least I'm distracted. And I have Xanax.

And then...

We get to the airport and I'm not gonna lie, we cut it a little close, and proceeded to get stuck behind The Unfortunates in the security line. (Our flight was delayed but we didn't know that yet.) I'm a mean-spirited person, I feel the same about this as I do about Tourists in Time Square; there should be a Business Lane and a Clueless Lane. And there should be some sort of method for proving you qualify for the Business Lane.

The Woman in front of me in my security line was sent back not once, not twice but THREE times. The third she emptied enough tea bags out of her capri pants to serve the Royal Wedding Reception. I am brand loyal when it comes to teas but, I assure you madame, wherever you are going THEY HAVE TEA.

Cutting-in between me and Mrs. Tea from the other security line- not only was I clearly NEXT, I was also CLEARLY in a hurry- was Mom'N'Kids. She seemed to think her two small children trumped me. She got sent back to the scanner 4 times. Seriously, lady. Don't question it just take off your belt, sunglasses, metal headband, and watch THE FIRST TIME.

And then...

We get through security to find out that we're delayed. The airport (LGB) is pretty much a double-wide on an airstrip. PACKED TO THE GILLS. Whoever decided the double wide had room for a "bar" lost their mind. I think they halved their space. Anyway, I go to fill my water bottle and on the way back some woman nearly takes me out with her little red rolling suitcase. Never even looked back or acknowledged it either. Thank god I was wearing my Fryes. I would have lost a limb, at the very least a toe, in Toms.

Finally, its time to board. We're flying jetBlue so we're able to board from the front or the back. My seat's in the back. I get out to the tarmac, take one look at the rear stairs and inform the grossly overweight airline employee directing traffic that I'll be boarding via the ramp at the front. So I roll up Everest and am greeted by another big airline dude. He watches me struggle with my bags and take out a couple of knees on my trip down the aisle.

What exactly is the purpose of flight attendants? Granted, at least jetBlue still serves complimentary snacks but really? They don't help you in any way with any thing. And this is for any of the men who might read this: yes, I'm a DIY-er and yes, I'm independent, but HELP ME WITH MY BAG or at least offer; please?

And then...

I got to my seat and no one was there. Yay! Five minutes to get settled by myself. Hurray! Especially because I'm stuck in a middle seat. Blech. And then my seatmate arrives....

And he is H-O-T. Things are looking up, I think. But only so far because OF COURSE HE'S MARRIED. BIG GIANT WEDDING BAND (what is with the black titanium wedding band, btw? Blech). And why wouldn't he be? He's a really nice guy. Attractive, nice guys, who are interesting are NEVER single. (Kinda makes me wonder where I fall on the flip side of the spectrum: I don't think I'm a troll but I do admit to not being nice; if I'm not moderately interesting, at the very least I'm entertaining- so???)

And then...

My blue Pilot Precise V5 roller ball pen explodes. So now my hands are blue and I have to ask the third male flight attendant (all men on the crew today, I don't think I've ever had that happen before) for a napkin. Luckily, he was the best of the bunch and THOUGHT to bring me some alcohol wipes which did help quite a bit.

But really, ARE YOU SERIOUS!?!?

OK. Back to work.

I'll keep you posted.
k8

It's Official

Move to California. Check.
Get a job......................... Check!
Become a Resident.......... Check!

Those last two took a little longer than expected.
It was just too much to think about setting down roots, even little ones (in shifty sand no less) any sooner than securing a "real job".

See?... I'm only HALF crazy. Moving to California without a job or any real reason was the half crazy part of the plan, but there was a plan which was the half sane part.

Or maybe I'm half crazy with commitment issues???? That doesn't bode well....

Anyway, I'm sure that, to date, this blog would not have been half as interesting had things been any different. And I'm sure there's more to come. It's me after all.

So yeah, as someone put it, I drank the Kool-Aid; I transferred the Jeep and myself this past week.

I was most nervous about The Smog test, damn California Emissions... but we passed on the first attempt. Which is more than I can say for myself and the written test! Given the caliber of California driving I have witnessed so far AND that I have been a licensed driver for 15 years I thought I was golden. But no, they make you take the written test. And I had to take it twice. For all that, who knew changing the license plates would turn out to be the most difficult part? Dad really likes his socket wrench. Nuts, bolts, and washers! I had to go to the bike shop and borrow 'Lu's tools. It was comical how long I spent trying to get that front Jersey plate off. But I did it myself.

I also started full time at The Mktg Co this week as their Director of Development. Whatever that means. It's been TWO years since I had a ""normal" 9-5 office job". Yikes! At least the weather did me a favor and rained this week. And I'm as excited as one who is in up to her ears can be! I am planning a minimum of two brand new events, one in Brooklyn mid-April and one in Eugene, OR end of August. So mark your calendars and take up multisport!

God knows, it's been all consuming... and it's not about to let up. Which is why it's taken me so long to break the news.

I'll keep you posted.
k8

Revolution

I'm climbing into bed as I write this.
I am SO tired.

But I could not let the day/s pass without notice:
Dad and I rolled into California on February 5, 2010. I spent my first full day in California on February 6, 2010, so today marks my First Anniversary. I think I'll stay on for another trip around the sun...

There's more, but it'll have to wait...

I'll keep you posted.
k8

Syrup

Following the notion that syrup makes everything better (similar to mayo, bacon, and chocolate) I had some with dinner tonight.

No foolin'.

In an everlasting attempt "to eat better", "cook meals", etc but still being a lazy bum, I went to the grocery store on Sunday night and bought: a rotisserie chicken, bbq sauce, haricots verts, and squash. I rounded out this meal with one of my favorite staples: Jasmine rice. It was all right. It definitely fit the bill for a much-desired "hot meal".

Last night Swirly, as she will now be called, texted me to meet up and so dinner was comprised of chips & salsa, a hot pocket divided in 4, chicken taquitos, and Pacifico. We definitely missed the healthy eating mark.

And so today, with the roti chicken leftovers in the fridge, I made yet another chicken'n'rice dish. And by that I mean, I put chicken on rice and covered it in BBQ. Impressive I know.

But here's the thing: it needed "a little something".
And that's when I thought, "syrup would really make this a lot better". And as I was getting it out of the cupboard and putting it on my chicken'n'rice dinner, I laughed and thought, "Oh, man. I'm Buddy the Elf."

"We elves like to stick to the four main food groups: candy, candy canes, candy corn, and syrup."

I'll keep you posted.
k8

Too soon to tell...

So we’re about 4 days into 2011 and I get a text message at the crack of West Coast Dawn from Melissa Sue:

“So on TV they said January 17 is the saddest day of the year! Can you believe it?”

It is my day off.
I am still snuggled in bed.
OK, well actually if I remember correctly, I have snuggled BACK into bed. I was rudely awakened before 7 by the shockingly prompt driveway demolition crew out front. Nonetheless, I am mystified that January 17th, The Day of the Heavyweight, could be the saddest day. Clearly, they have not included Gma Rose in this survey. I reply:

“What?! Why??? That’s depressing...”

Melissa Sue:

“That is when Winter Blues sets in. On Regis & Kelly this A.M.”

OF COURSE. Regis & Kelly. Winter Blues. East Coast. All flash through my head. I text:

“Ugh. Well, great just great. (<- One of my favorite Stu-isms. It always makes me smile.) Now I might be sad.”
“I mean I’m gonna be 31! Isn’t that sad enough???”

Melissa Sue:

“Haha. I don’t know how they get that data though. Sounds a little weird to me. Happy New Year old lady!”

So now, fast forward to January 17th:

Pro/Con
Projected weather 75 and SUNNY./ None.
It’s a HOLIDAY./ I have to work.
It IS my birthday./ I am OVER thirty!!
There will probably (hopefully) be cake./ None. (Unless there isn't any cake.)

Pros 2
Cons 2

Looks like it's too soon to tell...

I’ll keep you posted.
k8

"The Holidays"

Hah! I can't believe the last time I signed into this was more than a MONTH ago! Time flies. And my internet connection is spotty.

I guess I should say, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

So much has gone on... and I'm sure if it was recounted earlier it would have been more amusing, but for posterity I'm gonna put it down now... before I forget...

It was a whirlwind leading up to "The Holidays", I worked at The Cafe, The MKTG Office, and Scout-sat! Thank goodness for Scout or I wouldn't have gotten MOST of my Christmas gifts done (Snapfish Photobooks for everyone! Well, except Ian. Sorry, E.)

I "partied" with The Locals at the Seal Beach Holiday Parade, my pre-Parade party was my first official Hostessing here (unless you count weekends at The Cafe!). As things go it wasn't much of a pre-party but we rectified that POST-Parade.

Brandy Alexanders were the official cocktail of The Holiday and served up festively in Aunt Lynda's Martini Glasses. (Thanks, Auntie!) Scout just couldn't contain his enthusiasm for the fete and pooped in the middle of the party! Mortifying. Hysterical. Memorable. Only me. And Scout.

Boat Parades are a BIG thing out here at “The Holidays”. I still haven’t managed a Harbour Light Cruise, but I did attend my first ever, Huntington Harbour Boat Parade. Scout hosted.

Then it was on to NewYork!

My first visit in 11 months! Hard to believe. It was GREAT to see everyone: a night in with The Girls; coffee with KennyMack; The Tree with T; liquid lunch at The Plaza with Momma; and a visit with The Hornes.
I love The City at Christmas.

"The Holidays" were made even more memorable by my Dr’s visit; what was supposed to be check-up to make paying my EXORBITANT monthly health insurance bill worthwhile turned into a Walking Pneumonia diagnosis complete with a Z-Pak and Xanax. At least I got the Xanax.

I slept away alot of my time in NEPA. But there was tree decorating, cookie baking, running with Bridget, monkeying around with Grace, meeting Ty and the best pizza party ever at my Big Brother Todd’s.

Christmas was nice. We finally made it to Kavul’s for a Christmas Cocktail between Mass and Gma Rose’s. I’m glad we did. It was fun. And people didn’t question my sparkles....

The Virginia Nehmes were missed at Christmas Eve- as was the Christmas Stork. But as always, dinner was delicious.

Ian had to be the highlight of the evening- while he never goes to church with the rest of us, he showed up in FULL suit and tie (yay! Ian); he also won the gift-giving portion of the evening, receiving a complete set of Craftsman Power Tools- if ever there was a person less likely to require power tools; AND best moment, having thought he scored a seat, he found out the hard way why no one sits in Oreo’s chair, when he had to take his pants off in order to adequately lint-roll the cat hair. Oh, Ian...

Christmas Day always dawns too early now that we’re “grown ups”. Mom and Dad are up first and harassing us “kids” to get up like we’re going to miss the school bus. This year was no exception and none of us were in our finest form. Best Gift goes to Nicholas for buying Ian a grape-jelly purple Snuggie (S-N-U-G-G-I-E, Mom. Not Snugly.) Best Save goes to Dad for finding a gas station mini mart OPEN and selling eggs.

One of my favorite parts of the Christmas holiday is spending some time with Bridget and her family. This year Grace, the Christmas Ambassador, gave a full tour of the tree (in her Princess Belle dress) including which ornaments were “fragile” and which ones were “okay, for Liam to touch”, a detailed explanation of each item in her stocking, and a demonstration of her new bicycle which she estimates, in her own words, “when I’m a little more than 5 these training wheels will come off and I’ll ride like a Big Girl”.
I have no doubt, Kiddo.

Always a forward thinker, she informed me (on Christmas Day) that she has a “skateboard” on her list for next year- she’s just, “going to pretend the basement is the ocean so that I’ll be ready when I visit you in California”. (Yes, I do think she meant surfboard.}

At one point she told me she missed me while I was far away on my vacation and she asked me when I was going home, I had to clarify where she meant when she said home. She meant Pennsylvania. So I had to tell her that I lived in California now. And she asked me why. Well, Grace. That’s a very good question. Fortunately for me she’s 4 and “because” is still a viable answer.

I LOVE THIS KID.

Christmas Night, the holiday concluded, and just when you thought it was safe to go to bed... you are awakened in the middle of the night by what you’re half-asleep brain assures you is one of Mom’s Stupid Cats escaped from the basement and rustling around where they’re not supposed to be. So you listen again, and yep. Stupid Cats...

As you throw back the covers, ANNOYED to have to chase the Stupid Cats out of your bedroom and close the door your stumbled-in-from-McGrath’s-passed-out-on-the-cot-with-the-dog-where-she’s-not-supposed-to-be-brother left open, you FREAK OUT to discover that HOLY-MARY-MOTHER-OF-GOD its a BAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

While you’re screaming (sort of) you’re thinking in your head, “ARE YOU KIDDING?!?It’s frickin’ FREEZING. Where the hell did this FREAKING BAT come from in DECEMBER?????????”

Meanwhile, your good-for-nothing-wilderness-loving-passed-out BROTHER cannot be LESS concerned with the situation. Your FATHER comes in and carries on a brief convo with said brother, leaves claiming he’s “going to get something to capture The Bat” and when he returns the bat is NOWHERE. Do Dad or Bro look for The Bat? Capture The Bat? Oh no. Everyone just goes back to bed. And leaves ME! SUFFOCATING. Under the covers. THANKS GUYS.

Nicholas promptly departs for Boston the following day (wuss) and proceeds to send me menacing text messages wishing me luck with The Bat he now refers to as “Dracula”. Jerkface.

Fortunately for me, the night following the appearance of Dracula is the night of the Best Pizza Party ever. I proceeded to drink far to much, send some questionably (in)appropriate text messages, and pass out myself. Which is probably THE ONLY way I was going to be able to sleep in that room anyway.

I was lucky enough not to have any additional encounters with Dracula. Dad called me shortly after the New Year to inform me that he “caught The Bat with his bare hands and released him” out into the night. I’m sure by now Drac is back in our attic nestled among the Christmas Decor and wondering, WTF?

I can’t top The Bat, but I’m not quite finished either...

Before returning to sunny SoCal, Mom returned me to snow-paralyzed NYC. I had a lovely visit with some of my HoHa’s; met Meridith for The World’s Largest Slice; froze my butt off watching The Orange win the Inaugural Pinstripe Bowl; and topped it off with a little Enrique Iglesias karaoke: ”you can run. you can hide. but you can’t escape my love...”. GOOD TIMES.

I worried the weather would screw up my return flight; I was relieved when it didn’t. I arrived at LAX mid-afternoon on New Year’s Eve with no plans. None developed. Not that I tried very hard...or at all. I ran to the grocery store for the basics, came home, took a shower, did my hair (just in case), and then promptly put on my PJs and spent the evening at home. While I was technically by myself I was in good company. I talked with friends. I read a book. And just before midnight I pulled on my Uggs, toasted 2010 farewell, and walked down to the beach to welcome the New Year. It was a very pleasant New Year’s Eve.

I’ll keep you posted.
k8