DEFCON House

Good Neighbors Make Good Neighbors

2011-06-22T21:56:00.000-07:00

Soon after we moved into the Minty a few years ago, our next door neighbor started chatting with me. I wouldn't talk to her about anything super personal, but we definitely became buddy-buddy. I liked chatting with her, and I thought she liked chatting with me too.

Then, all of a sudden, something changed. A couple of weeks ago, she stopped talking to me. Just...stopped. Total cold shoulder standoffish ignoring me type stuff. Don't have any idea why. All I know is, it really, really bothers me. Not because she and I were on a path to become best friends or anything. But because...because I haven't been treated like this since I was in high school. I haven't had someone obviously and intentionally just, like, ignore me and be rude to me in years. I am still nice to her, and say hi every time I see her. But, I mean, what the hell? We're both adults. What kind of grown-up thinks this is a good strategy?

And - here's the real reason this bugs me so much. You know what? People like me. I'm not trying to brag here, but the majority of the people I meet get along pretty well with me. And I get along well with them too. I like to spend a lot of my time alone. So I kind of need that hit of knowing people like me regularly. And one of the ways I get it is through social interactions, like with the people who live near me. My stupid neighbor is messing with that.

This whole thing actually gave me a new perspective on this story I completed right around the same time, about a guy whose teenage daughter suddenly started avoiding him. After my neighbor started giving me the cold shoulder, I felt an extra level of empathy for the guy. And I appreciated even more what he arrived at - he can't control the way his daughter treats him, no more than I can control how my neighbor treats me. Ultimately, while I'm bummed we don't get to be buds anymore, we only became friendly because of proximity. It's not that big of a loss. My reactions to her being all rude and standoffish are really, really, really all about me and my own need to be liked. So I guess that means I get to just deal with my own silliness around all this. And that means probably not asking her what happened, and why she started ignoring me in the first place. Because if I'm honest with myself, I just want to do that so I can fix whatever and get her to like me again. I don't actually care about whatever she might be going through. I think it's probably best to just let this go, and let her do what she needs to do - even if that means she acts like a teenager. It just doesn't have to affect me. I think that's the lesson.

Stupid neighbor.

What I'll Be Missing This Summer

2011-06-01T19:50:00.000-07:00

The above image is a set of stairs not far from our house and our last apartment. Zack and I used to walk those steps almost every sunny day. It's one of the places that I felt belonged to us, because much of the time, we've been the only ones out walking those stairs, or the streets that connect to those stairs. For the past several years, we've lived in mainly residential neighborhoods. So when Zack and I would go on long, sprawling, exploratory walks, we'd mainly walk past houses and apartment buildings and condos. It might sound boring, but I love those walks. And Zack is an ideal companion for wandering. He does his own thing on his end of the leash, but he checks in with me regularly, sometimes by slowing down and leaning against me for pets, and sometimes just by looking around until he makes eye contact with me. Sometimes he finds a sunny spot and lets me know we need to sit in the grass and hang out for a while. Zack hates the cold and he hates rain even more, so sunny days are kind of doubly exciting. On sunny days, Zack makes it clear he wants to walk for a while. I have almost always been thrilled to oblige, even if it meant I was late for something else.

A couple days ago, I was walking by myself and came across those same stairs. And I found myself suddenly overcome with longing for my long wandering walks with Zack. That's because, over the last couple of months, we've discovered that it might be a long time before Zack can go for a long walk. In fact, he might never be able to go for a long walk again. That's because both of his front wrists are collapsing, and eventually, they will most likely collapse completely, which will make it very difficult and painful for him to walk at all. The condition is called canine carpal hyperextension. It's a condition that's not very common, but it's not entirely uncommon. It can happen because of an injury or because of a disease. (Zack's is probably from an injury.) And it's a condition that doesn't heal; it usually just gets worse.

We first started figuring out that Zack's wrists were collapsing a couple of months ago. And it's been tough. We talked about what might happen, and whether we were prepared to make the decision to put him to sleep if necessary. We also saw many, many vets, and Aa started researching canine carpal hyperextension like crazy. (I am extremely grateful to him for doing it.) During this process, we started learning about treatment options. The main one is a surgery that fuses Zack's wrist bones together. During recovery, the bones will hopefully grow together and make the ligaments and tendons that are failing irrelevant. He will lose range of motion, but he will be able to walk and do most of the other things he was able to do before the carpal hyperextension started. The surgery is has a high rate of success, but it's major enough that they can only do one leg at a time and the recovery can take 3 months. There's no guarantee his bones will heal correctly, and, of course, all surgery is risky. This is leaving aside the cost of the surgery. It's not cheap.

Our other option is for Zack to wear custom braces for the rest of his life on his two front legs. Our thinking was that the braces, coupled with regular physical therapy, could give him a lot of his active life back w/o the risks inherent in two big surgeries. There is a great animal rehab center in Shoreline, and over the past month, during our twice-weekly therapy visits, everyone there has fallen in love with Zack. So for a while, it seemed like we were on the right track. Then we got the braces.

They seem sort of crazy, don't they? But I can get them on him, and he's tolerating them for now, so we'll see how the next couple of months go. It does seem likely, though, that Zack will be getting the surgery at some point in the next year. And in the meantime, when he's not wearing the braces - he can't wear them all the time - he's still limping. His wrists are still collapsed. He doesn't seem to be in pain, which is really great. But he can only go outside to go to the bathroom - we can't let him do much else. And on the few sunny days we've had since this started, Zack's let me know that he wants to keep walking. He wants to wander with me. And I can't do it. It will hurt him if we try.

So here's the realization I had while I was looking at those stairs. We may never go on one of our long, wandering walks again, and that kind of breaks my heart. I am really, really hopeful we will again someday, though. And if these braces work out, and if the surgeries are successful, we totally could. But right now, I'm accepting that this summer cannot include the long, wandering walks that have become a kind of tradition for Zack and me. I won't feel like we own the quiet streets and beautiful overgrown weeds and secret staircases we discover and explore together. Please don't get me wrong - I am really grateful to have this little dog in my life. He's part of my family and I love him very much. I know Aa and I will do whatever we need to do to make sure he has a good life. But summer is coming, and I already miss those long, lovely walks with Zack so much.

Sympathy

2010-11-03T11:42:00.000-07:00

I have food poisoning today. I feel awful. I will never, ever, ever eat fish tacos ever again. Boo.

Well, hello again

2010-11-01T19:07:00.000-07:00

Hi there,

There are a bunch of reasons I haven't been posting here, which I don't particularly want to get into. Well, OK. There is one specific reason that I'm more than happy to get into. I've spent a lot of time making an 8-part radio series from stories people have told live onstage at my storytelling series, A Guide To Visitors. The whole series will live here when it's done. Right now, I only have one more hour to complete; it'll air next week. Then, nearly a year of work and planning is over. I find myself feeling sad that it's almost over. I have loved going through the nearly 9 years of old stories I had recorded, and listening to each story. I have loved hearing these people's voices on the radio. So many of the people who have told stories for this project over the years have become very special to me. They're not quite friends, because we don't really hang out socially. But they have all agreed to trust me and my co-producers enough to get up in front of a bunch of strangers and tell very personal stories about themselves. I keep thinking about what an honor it is that so many people have agreed to do this with us. How kind of amazing it is that we're still doing this after 9 years - and our audiences have grown, our stable of return storytellers has grown, it's all grown. I just love that I get to do this. I don't really make any money at it. It's not my job. But I love doing it so much. I will miss making this radio series, but it's gotten me fired up to do some other things with these stories. I guess the "other things" will be what I spend my energy on in this coming year. It's good to be exhausted when your energy is being used on things you love.

Ah, and speaking of spending energy on things you love, I spent some time getting my dog into a Yoda costume this past weekend. Worth every second. (I think he would disagree.)

Paul Harvey Starkey 1922-2010

2010-03-01T08:53:00.000-08:00

Grandpa died this morning. these are my favorite picks. Among the many great things he did in his life, he taught me my first guitar chords (C/Am/G). i learned much more than that from him of course, but that is what popped in my head this morning. a few pictures...

He grew up in rural Oklahoma and to earn extra money (and it was probably very fun) he would play pie dances. He and some other musicians would set up in someones living room or barn, they'd roll up the carpet, the ladies would bake pies, and people would dance. He could play the fiddle, the guitar or the piano. The violin was his main instrument though.

He was also trained as a fighter pilot and was stationed in the pacific during WWII. I think he spent a lot of time on the beach in hawaii for the most part. he was very lucky.

I like this picture quite a bit. it's fuzzy, it's from the 80's, i look like i'm crazy. but i remember the day very vividly. Grandma was taking the picture. I spent a lot of my childhood hanging out at their house because it was 1. fun 2. they spoiled me and 3. the house was always filled with laughter and jokes and was a very safe and easy place to be. no pressure from them to do anything other than just be. this picture represents one day out of 100's of days just like it. Whenever i needed something (whether i needed or wanted is probably debatable in retrospect...:) he always had a wallet of five dollar bills that would open up for me.

He always told me that i was his favorite grandson. i was of course, his only grandson. :)

Generous and funny and wise.

good man he was.

What I've Learned After 6 Days (And Counting!) Of Having The Flu

2009-11-08T21:05:00.000-08:00

(taken by Aa during Day 5)

-Didn't realize how often Aa and I yell from one room to another to communicate. Then the flu took my voice and I have had to remain silent while Aa yelled some question at me. I don't think this is some grand lesson about speaking more gently and softly. I just want my fucking voice again so I can yell back.

-My dog normally hangs close to me when I'm in the house. But I've had a fever for 6 days now, which means I'm warmer than usual. Zack loves this. He has abandoned his usual cold-weather spot next to the heating vent to stretch out, stuck to my side like glue when I'm lying on the couch or in bed (that is, all the time). He is currently lying right up against my right thigh, with his head on my leg. I used to think I'd never get tired of Zack cuddling up next to me. Wrong! I cannot wait until my body temperature returns to normal and my dog stops treating me like his own personal space heater.

-I will never get sick of macaroni and cheese or miso soup. Never, ever, ever.

-Coffee has tasted like shit since I got sick. Don't think I'm not mad about this.

-I am deeply, deeply grateful for buying a house 20 feet away from a video store. Also, big thanks to Peter Jackson for making like a 28 hour version of The Lord Of The Rings, and for making it both awesome and kind of easy to make fun of. It has made this weekend kind of enjoyable.

-Generally, movie series are good moves when sick for several days. The Bourne movies? Good, good, and good. The Ocean movies? Good, good, and phoned in. I know the X Men movies would also be good but Aa reminds me I rented those after that relay race I did in July and he needs a few more months before getting into that world again. Maybe we can watch the Terminator movies next.

-If we owned Arrested Development we probably would have saved a lot of money in DVD rental fees this week.

-Aa has been less sick than me this whole time - no fever, no crazy ass sore throat. So he's done pretty much all the work around the house to make it livable and not Convalescence / Scary Transient / Stinky, Fetid Garbage Collection Central. He's also taken care of me, and been very kind, gentle, patient, and funny. This is a lesson re-learned: I am so super lucky.

-Plain, full fat yogurt is the best thing ever on a sore throat. For real. It beats ice cream even.

-When your neighbor sees you coming back from the doctor and she asks if you're sick and you tell her you have the flu and then she recoils and makes a cross with her arms even though you're ten feet away, it's incredibly tempting to walk up to her and blow your flu breath in her face. Totally a mean thing to do. But incredibly tempting nonetheless.

Things I've been thinking about since my grandma died, in random order

2009-10-20T19:34:00.001-07:00

A week and a half ago, my grandmother Genevieve Yandel passed away in her sleep at home. She was going to be 103 this December. As deaths go, hers was a good one. As lives go, I think overall hers was pretty rich. Since she passed, I've had just a mess of thoughts, memories, and realizations bouncing around in through my head. I list them here, in no particular order.

-I think I believed she'd always be around. Every time she celebrated another birthday, it lent some credence to that belief.

-My grandma made this amazing date-nut bread every year for Christmas. Only the adults received the bread as a Christmas gift. It was coveted, and it was delicious. I can remember my dad savoring that bread on Christmas morning, and my uncles partly-jokingly taking small loaves of bread away from each other every year at the family Christmas party. She baked the bread in soup cans. A couple of years into my relationship with Aa, grandma gave us a few loaves of date-nut bread as a Christmas gift. It was the first time she'd ever given me some of that bread. It felt like a huge rite of passage for me, and a recognition of my relationship with Aa. We weren't married, and several of my relatives focused on that when they saw us at Christmas. My Grandma Yandel never asked me why we weren't married yet. She just gave us date-nut bread.

-She had ten kids and 39 grandkids. My cousin Chris and his wife are expecting great-grandchild number 50. That's 99 direct descendants, so far.

-Her oldest son, my Uncle George, was apparently a bit of a tough guy back in the day. He would bring home boxes of shirts and once he brought home a bumper pool table. He actually told his younger siblings those things fell off the back of a truck.

-My grandfather, also named George, died more than 30 years ago. But he was once on a sports game show, called Around The Bases. It was all about baseball. He came in second to a young blind man whose final answer was actually incorrect, but my grandpa didn't want to point that out. He won a big ironing machine.

-All ten kids and both parents had to share one bathroom. One. Bathroom.

-There are many strangely-named businesses in the south suburbs of Chicago and the south side. These include a bar called Deja Brew, a superstore of some kind called Hobo, and two deeply depressing Chinese places: Panda Hut, and Asia China Buffet.

-I think the legacy my grandparents left is fucking amazing. Their ten kids - my dad and my aunts and uncles - are ten of the most decent people I know. I am really, really proud to be a Yandel.

-My grandma was 14 years old when the 19th Amendment, giving women the right to vote, was added to the US Constitution.

-I wish I'd asked her a ton more questions.

-Because of a piece I'm doing at work and the annual ghost stories show for AGTV, I have been thinking about ghosts and hauntings a lot. She would be just a totally delightful ghost to have around.

One Year Ago

2009-09-25T00:01:00.000-07:00

Aaron's Vows
I vow to listen to you and really, really hear you
I vow to admit I'm wrong...sometimes
I vow to make you tea or coffee in the mornings (ADDED LATER: at least 3x per week)
I vow to help you in any way I can
I vow to always speak the truth to you, and to sometimes shut my mouth too
I vow to challenge you, and to accept your challenges in return
I vow to trust you, when I feel I can trust no one
I vow to walk the dog more than I do now, but probably less than you want
***BONUS SPONTANEOUS VOW!!!*** I vow to cook you more vegetarian food
I already love you, so I can't vow that, but I do want to tell you I love you very much, and you're my best friend too.

Jeannie's Vows
I vow to be less grumpy in the mornings, and to let it go when you're grumpy in the mornings
I vow to challenge you, even when you don't want to be challenged, and to accept your challenges
I vow to keep trying to make you laugh, and to laugh a lot with you
I vow to keep being your girlfriend
I vow to really, honestly try to like olives
I vow not to take my crappy mood out on you
I vow to always, always have your back
I love you very, very much. You're my best friend in the world.

Two Farmers' Market Transactions That Felt More Like Drug Deals

2009-08-25T08:09:00.000-07:00

1. I'm at my sister's farmers' market with her in Lincoln. It's a Sunday afternoon and we're looking for eggs. The nice man at the health food store told us to look for a guy named Mark. "He's got a blond ponytail, a red cap, and a light t-shirt on". My sister and I walk to the end of the market and only see one guy who sort of matches that description. He's standing at a stall with two young women. His eyes are shielded by reflective sunglasses. His arms are crossed across his chest, and he's watching people walk by. His red cap has NASCAR across the front. We approach the stall.

ME AND SISTER: "Hi, do you guys sell eggs?"
GIRLS: "Uh, no. Sorry!"
ME AND SISTER (glancing over at NASCAR ponytail): "Ok. Thanks!"
[awkward pause, where neither my sister nor me makes a move to leave]
NASCAR PONYTAIL: "I sell eggs."
ME AND SISTER: "Oh, great!"
NASCAR PONYTAIL: "Follow me". (takes us to a second location across the market) "I don't advertise. Sometimes I have one dozen. Other times I have two dozen. Usually I sell out. But I never put a sign up."
SISTER (glancing at me): "OK. Um, how much for a dozen?"
NASCAR PONYTAIL: "Two-fifty. I don't always have them this late. I usually sell out. But I don't put a sign up."
SISTER (shifting Wondernephew Max to me so she can grab the eggs): "Alright. Well, thanks!"

2. I'm at a Wednesday farmers market in Seattle. Aa has asked me to pick up some raw butter from a stall where he usually buys it at a different market on Sunday. I see the stall and approach the dude behind the counter, who is not the dude we buy from on Sundays.

ME: "Hi! Do you have any butter?"
DUDE: "Uh...we're not really allowed to sell it openly. We usually call it dog food."
ME: "Oh."
[pause]
ME: "Um, do you have any dog food?"
DUDE (looking at me with a combination of annoyance and pity): "No. I don't. We don't usually have it at this market."
ME: "Oh, OK."
DUDE: "And you can seriously just call it butter."

Question: What causes you to lose any sense of shame?

2009-08-24T16:03:00.000-07:00

Answer: Hanging out with an incredibly cute baby. I'm currently in Lincoln, NE, visiting my sister Mary Kate (aka The Funniest Person On The Planet), my brother in law Josh (aka The Nicest Guy Ever), and my nephew Max (aka Maximillian Wondernephew). Here's a video of us playing in the pool. I don't do anything too silly in this one, but really my takeaway from this visit is I'll do anything to make this kid laugh. Doesn't matter where we are or how dumb I look in the process either. That's not even an issue.

ALSO: Not much happens in this video. You don't see the kid crack up or anything. It's mainly posted here so I can watch it whenever I want and be reminded of how incredibly fun it was to push a baby in an innertube around a pool with my sister. Max actually started laughing hysterically after his dad turned the camera off. Max, your timing is not great. But you are only 7 months old so I will overlook it. One day soon you will realize that you can manipulate adults just by looking at them and laughing. That is the day your campaign for world domination truly begins.

Text Messages I Sent Aa On Friday Night As I Was Giddily Leaving Work To Meet Him Downtown

2009-08-10T12:24:00.000-07:00

Context:

-Work sucked ass that day.

-I was going to meet Aa to see a free show his station put together, which includes one of my favorite local music acts.

-I had only decided on this plan of action moments beforehand – my Friday nights usually consist of my couch, my dog, and a book or a movie. This spontaneous plan felt incredibly exciting and daring.

6:47 pm I am getting on a bus in mere moments! There is a man at the bus stop who smells like Stouffers lasagna!

6:53 pm I am on the bus! I am on the way! There appears to be a couple that met at a NAMBLA meet-up just across the aisle from me! http://www.nambla.org/

6:55 pm Oh wait that little boy is just a very slight lady! What a relief!

6:56 pm The stouffers man did not get on the bus with me! What a shame! Instead there is a man wearing no less than three bandanas on his person!

6:56 pm One is a do-rag!

6:57 pm One is billowing oddly out of his pants pocket!

6:58 pm The third is wound around part of his belt!

6:58 pm He also has a laptop and a black leather fanny pack!

7:02 pm (after a call from Aa) You just called me! Your call has thrown me off my game!

7:04 pm I want to eat fried pickles this evening! Or possibly fries!

7:04 pm Or BOTH!

7:05 People give me dirty looks when I talk on my phone on the bus! Perhaps it is because I speak loudly!

7:08 pm I have two pieces of fruit in my bag that I did not have time to eat today!

7:10 Also I have my running stuff with me! I did not have time to run either! This saddens me!

7:13 Whoa! A fat version of Sammy Hagar circa OU812 just got on the bus!

7:17 ….aaaand he’s off the bus! That was fast, Fat Sammy Hagar!

7:17 (from Aa) Hurry up!! I am in the beer area. Enter on west side.

END.

Recovery

2009-07-26T12:49:00.000-07:00

Boo. I haven't posted for a while. Turns out this has been the Best Summer Ever, so I kind of haven't had time. The Northwest is an amazing, amazing place in summertime. I am one happy lady these days.

Today, I am also one sore and sleepy lady. On Friday and Saturday I ran in a 24-hour relay race from Blaine (on the border w/ Canada) to Langley (on Whidbey Island, the San Juan Island you don't have to take a ferry to). Teams of 12 runners cover about 185 miles altogether, running from Friday morning through the night into Saturday afternoon. Each runner takes 3 legs, and gets about 8 hrs off between each run, during which time you try to find a place to stretch, change out of your nasty running clothes, and maybe sleep for an hour or so. My friend D asked me to participate a few months ago; at that time I briefly checked out the site for the race and agreed, without really thinking about it. I managed to get what I thought would be one of the easier legs of the race, stepped up my running a bit to prepare, and kind of didn't think about it.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, I checked out my running assignments and realized something was different. I thought my toughest leg was going to be my first one - a 6.3 mile run that the organizers classified as "hard". But the race organizers had made some changes. My toughest leg was now going to be my final leg - 6.9 "very hard" miles. A mothereffer of a slow uphill, followed by a fast, steep downhill, which is even harder and more painful to run. I'd likely be making this run around noon, in really hot sunny weather. I'd be lucky if I got any sleep at all beforehand - my second leg began around 2:30 am and was an easy, flat, quiet 2.7 miles through residential Anacortes. I got through legs 1 & 2 just fine, and even ran a faster pace than I'd expected to. But damn - I was freaked out about that final leg. I only had a couple weeks to try to get ready for a considerably harder final run. I did a few longish runs, topping out at an 8.5 mile trail run. Then I took this past week off to rest up. My first two legs went great - I passed some folks at the end of my first leg, which is exactly when you should pass people. My friend C came out and biked alongside me and the other night runners on our team. I passed out in my sleeping bag for nearly 3 hours after my night leg. Saturday morning dawned sunny and got hot almost immediately.

And it turns out I was right to be freaked out about that last leg. IT. SUCKED. It was totally beautiful - I ran near the water, there were mountains in the distance and I was running down a long, windy forest road. It was hot as hell and we were on pavement the whole time. I moved slowly enough that I probably got passed by a half-dozen other runners. (Screw you guys, btw.) And I kept passing dead animals on the road. A bird. A snake. And then, finally, a baby deer, off on the side of the road in the dry grass. He lay on his side and he looked like he could be asleep except that his legs were stiff and straight and his eyes were wide open. This is embarrassing now but I remember thinking all those dead animals were some kind of bad omen for me. And that's when I realized I didn't have to finish if I didn't want to.

Right then, my teammates showed up on the side of the road. They dumped water on me and gave me some to drink. One of them handed me a cold slice of cantaloupe. That gave me a little burst of energy, so I kept going. A few minutes later, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. There was a doe bouncing through the forest maybe 6 feet away from me. She stayed with me for a minute and disappeared into the woods. I finished my final leg maybe a half hour later, after forcing myself to walk most of the crazy downhill near the end of the race. I am certain the two guys who barrelled past me on that downhill are in a ton of pain today. You just can't do stuff like that to your knees. My team was waiting for me at the bottom of the hill, cheering. I passed off the baton to D, and stopped fucking running. My teammates handed me a homemade peanut butter bar and an ice-cold beer. Later, they told me they all felt terrible for me after driving my final leg to meet me at the end. My teammate K very succinctly said, "Whoever changed that last leg just straight up fucked you."

I kind of can't believe I did this race. If I'd thought about it more when D first asked me, I probably would've said no. But holy crap, overall I had so so much fun. The course was beautiful and everyone on my team (mainly folks I'd never met) were great and hilarious and sarcastic. And for the first time in my whole entire life I feel like an athlete. I feel like most of my adult life has been about undoing the ridiculous amount of embarrassment and shame and anger I felt about my body in adolescence. And today I have this amazing feeling of respect for my body and what it can do. At 35, I am finally feeling proud of my physical self. I've never felt like this before. I did not realize finishing this race would be such a big deal for me. But it was. It is. And I would totally do it again next year.

He Once Solved A Rubik's Cube In 43 Minutes

2009-07-02T16:38:00.000-07:00

A guy is in his front yard, barefoot, shirtless, in cutoffs, working on a painting. There are several other paintings, presumably his, nearby. Zack and I walk by.

Painter: Hey! Wanna buy a painting?
Me: Sorry, I don't have any money with me.
Painter: Wow! What kind of dog is that?
Me: Oh, he's a basenji. His name is Zack. They're African. Funny little dogs.
Painter: You know what kind of dog he looks like?
Me: Um, some people think he looks like a shiba inu...
Painter: No, no! He looks like a dog in a movie! You know?
Me: Well...
Painter: You know what I'm talking about? The kind of dog you'd see in a movie!
Me: You mean like Benji or something?
Painter (clearly exasperated): No! No! You know, like the kind of dog that solves a riddle? He solves puzzles, man! And he gets the bad guys! And he talks to other animals, like wolves. That dog! That's what your dog looks like. That's what he looks like to me.
Me: ...
Painter: Hey, do you want to buy a painting?
Me: Uh, no thanks.

You Can't Win

2009-06-26T08:26:00.001-07:00

Michael Jackson was pretty creepy as he got older. But when it came out, Thriller was one of the most exciting things that ever happened to me when I was a kid. I loved that album so, so much. (I think I got it as a birthday present at a sleepover, which was THE birthday party to have in 4th - 6th grades.) The only album I'd really loved before then was Olivia Newton-John's Physical (this because I so admired her performance in Grease). Also, Thriller was one of the first pieces of music I loved on my own - I had a Doobie Brothers tape, but that was a gift from my folks that came with the tape recorder I got for my birthday in third grade. (I do remember walking around my neighborhood, blasting that tape as loud as I could. Probably many people were not expecting a little girl to be rocking Michael McDonald on a tape deck.)

Anyway, back to Thriller. It was the first record that I loved just for itself - for the music. Not because I knew the singer from a movie or somewhere else. I wouldn't discover The Wiz or The Jackson 5 for a couple of years - but learning more about Michael Jackson at that point was nothing but an utter pleasure. He was an attention-hungry kid's dream idol. He was relentlessly talented, he'd been in showbiz pretty much since conception, and it seemed like EVERYONE loved him. The whole entire world loved Michael Jackson. I was deeply envious.

Then, the Thriller video happened. I was very fond of television as a kid, but I'm telling you, that video was the most mind-blowing thing I'd ever seen on TV. I watched it as many times as I could - and of course MTV was playing it constantly. I can't remember what happened or why this decision was made, but one night at dinner my dad announced that my sister and I were forbidden to watch MTV because the video for Thriller was too scary. I remember being stunned. How was I supposed to go about my life as though everything were normal, when I'd actually never be allowed to watch that amazing thing again? What I didn't know then, of course, was in a few months the ban would be lifted, and the video's immense popularity meant I'd be able to watch it, and, later, the making of it, pretty much whenever I wanted until I got my fill.

I will admit that after a year or so Thriller lost its hold on me. I moved on to...whatever I moved onto when I was 10 turning 11. Drawing horses obsessively, maybe? But then my folks introduced me to The Wiz, and that's really when Michael Jackson earned a permanent place in my psyche. I have always loved The Wizard of Oz, but The Wiz felt like an incredibly exciting adult version of that story. As a kid, there were jokes I didn't get at all in The Wiz. (Why do all the cabs refuse to pick Dorothy up? Didn't figure that out till I was probably in college.) But over the years, I've watched it again and again, and Michael Jackson's performance as the Scarecrow is still fantastic. I found it to be a good point in his past to focus on - which I think many fans did, focus on Jackson's past - as his present and future got increasingly disturbing.

Anyway. I watched The Wiz again last night and was once again struck by Jackson's performance as the Scarecrow. (Ray Bolger, respect, but he kind of kicked your butt on this.) Jackson's big song, especially, I think is amazing. The Wiz, btw, was made in 1978. So Jackson was 19 or 20 when that movie was filmed. Here's his big song.

You can't win - Michael Jackson - The wiz
Uploaded by xBillieJean. - See the latest featured music videos.

Lost Dog!

2009-06-20T19:03:00.000-07:00

She wandered up to us at 73rd and 13 Ave NW. Sweet, young, playful, followed us home. She misses her people! Do you know her? The Humane Society likely won't be able to come get her till tomorrow.

Weather / Perspective

2009-06-04T16:27:00.000-07:00

So, it's supposed to hit 90 degrees here in Seattle today. It's hot for this neck of the woods. And at work, the AC is cranking. So I've been cold all day. And, I'll be honest, I've also been a little cranky about that and some other stuff. So a little while ago, I stepped outside to get a cup of coffee at my favorite near-work coffee place. One of my favorite baristas was working.

BARISTA: (hair blowing back from the fan she has trained right on her): Hi, what can I get you?
ME: Tall Americano to go, please.
BARISTA: You want that iced?
ME: No, hot.
BARISTA (in disbelief): Hot? Really?
ME: Hot. Really.
BARISTA: Um, are you crazy?
ME: No! My work is freaking freezing. One of my co-workers is actually walking around in her soccer knee-socks right now, because she wore shorts and didn't think about the AC. I've been wearing a sweater and drinking tea to warm up. It sucks.
BARISTA (staring at me, wiping sweat from her forehead): "Oh, the AC is so hiiiigh at my awesome public radio job! My husband is so great*! He made me an ice cream cake**! My dog is so cute***! My hair is just so full and wavy****!"
ME: ...
BARISTA: You need cream with your coffee?

I didn't realize I needed to be mocked in public, but I guess I did. Totally snapped me out of my crappy mood, and had me laughing all the way back to work.

*Barista and I shoot the shit a lot, and I talk frequently about how fantastic I think Aa is.

** True! He made me an ice cream cake for my birthday. See? Fantastic.

***Yes, I also talk about my dog a lot. This can't be even remotely surprising to anyone who reads this blog.

****No idea where this one came from.

Me And Dates And Craziness

2009-05-31T21:22:00.000-07:00

Over Memorial Day weekend, Aa and I had our 9th anniversary of being-togetherness. It's the one anniversary date I always remember. At this point, we have three:

-the getting-togetherversary (which we placed, after some discussion, on Memorial Day)
-the anniversary of our actual legal marriage (the date of which is under frequent discussion; currently, Aa thinks that date's in late August, and I think it's in early October. There is a marriage license in our house that can settle this discussion, but I rather enjoy how we can never seem to remember exactly what day it was)
-the anniversary of our wedding, which is September 25th and is also my parents' wedding anniversary (which I of course did not realize because I suck at remembering dates)

It is this inability to remember dates that I've been thinking about this week. Here are some of the dates I've messed up in recent memory:

-my dad's birthday (like two years in a row)
-my mom's birthday (it is the same week as Thanksgiving. That's all I got.)
-the day I got legally married
-Zack's Gotcha Day (in fact I didn't even realize this was a thing till like a year ago)
-Zack's birthday (again, didn't realize it was a thing till I went to a couple of dog birthday parties - which are just excuses for a barbecue or whatever but with more dogs and fancier dog treats)

I probably shouldn't list my parents' birthdays in with a couple of basically made-up celebrations for a creature who couldn't care less. And really, it's not hard to set up a reminder so I never screw up my folks' birthdays again (sorry, guys).

But it does occur to me that I've been carrying around some weird guilt for not remembering, like, the date we decided to keep Zack. That it somehow means I'm not a good dog owner. Because my brain is slow, it just this past week occurred to me that I don't have to feel anything about this. People can celebrate whatever they want to with and for their pets. I'm already anthropomorphizing my dog plenty. We dress the same. He does not care if he has a birthday party. This means I don't have to care either. So I am absolving myself of this goofy-ass guilt that I have been carrying around.

And I am setting up some Google calendar reminders for the birthdays of the humans in my life.

URBAN PHANTOM

2009-05-20T22:30:00.000-07:00

That's what the Department of Fish and Wildlife is calling a small, 2-yr old black bear that's been wandering around North Seattle and Shoreline since late Sunday night / early Monday morning. He was first spotted in Ballard, probably a dozen blocks from our house. Nevertheless, once I learned that there was a bear in the neighborhood, I was utterly convinced that he and Zack would somehow get into some kind of terrifying but then suddenly cuddly confrontation. Of course, I was wrong about both the confrontation and, yes, fine, the idea that suddenly an adolescent bear and my dog would somehow recognize the latent potential friendship in the other and express that recognition by snuggling.

Anyway, so the bear (URBAN PHANTOM) has been winding his way up from my neighborhood into Shoreline, immediately north of the Seattle city limits. News coverage has died off somewhat. But that Monday, day 1 of URBAN PHANTOM WATCH, was pretty fun. All 5 of the televisions in the newsroom were on local news stations. All day I got to watch our local television newscasters do their own version of Brian Fantana from Anchorman.

And here is an example of how the Internet has broken my heart today because the Internet does not have any video of Brian Fantana's excellent reportage on the pregnant panda at the San Diego Zoo. So, here is a transcription of some of that reporting:

Ron Burgundy: Let's go to Brian Fantana who's live on the scene with a Channel 4 News exclusive. Brian?
Brian Fantana: Panda Watch. The mood is tense; I have been on some serious, serious reports but nothing quite like this. I uh... Ching... King is inside right now. I tried to get an interview with him, but they said no, you can't do that he's a live bear, he will literally rip your face off.
[to the Panda]
Brian Fantana: Hey, you're making me look stupid. Get out here, Panda Jerk.
Ron Burgundy: Great story. Compelling, and rich.

And, just because I love the two of you who still read this (hello, Mary Kate and Josh!), here is weatherman Brick Tamlan killing someone with a trident during a News Team street fight (Brian is briefly featured here).

Back to URBAN PHANTOM. At this point, the authorities have suspended their search because URBAN PHANTOM has proven to be pretty harmless. Which, duh, because all he wanted to do is cuddle with my dog. Except he keeps moving further away from my house. He's making me look stupid. Black Bear Jerk.

Also, just allow me to add that I know I have been spotty about posting. Kind of lost interest for a while there, and there was some other stuff too. (Ah, the other stuff. Always the other stuff!) But I'm working my way back. To you, babe. With a...well, not a burning love inside. More like a...higher level of commitment to posting regularly. Inside. Dooh dooh, dooh duh dooh!

Becoming what I hate most

2009-05-02T19:45:00.000-07:00

OK, that's a bit of an exaggeration.

Instead, let's say I've become the kind of person I used to find mild-to-medium annoying. (If we were ordering Thai food, I'd say 1 to 2 stars annoying.) I've become the kind of person who will blow off an actual, live, person-to-person conversation to futz around on my neato G1. And since much of my free time is spent with Aa, it means I'm kind of blowing off conversations with him.

But allow me to give some context here! For a few years now, Aa's had some kind of smart phone. It'd allow him to check email / text / whatevs pretty much anytime. While we were out at dinner. First thing in the morning, in bed. While driving. Meanwhile, before the G1, I had the same phone for like 4 years - one that could barely handle text messaging. And now, for the first time, I don't have a phone. I have a smart phone too. HA! So those years of sitting forlornly across the table from Aa while he types away on his impossibly tiny keyboard are over. Because NOW I CAN DO IT RIGHT BACK. It's resentment tech. Vengeance tech. Yeah.

Look, I'm not saying it's nice to do this to your partner - or anyone else, for that matter. I know it's not nice. I know it's rude and annoying. And I know I've done it to many people since I got this stupid phone. (Wait! no no! I meant smart phone.) I just need to get through the honeymoon stage with this phone and I'll be all good again. Attentive and present (as much as I ever was before, anyway). Any day now. I promise.

Creative Swearing

2009-04-20T19:28:00.000-07:00

With visual aides!

Monkeyfighting snakes

Motherfather Chinese Dentist

Dirty Fratter Rabbleflabbing Frabber Trap

DEFCON Vermin

2009-03-28T10:12:00.000-07:00

So, we have rats in our basement.

Aa noticed this a little less than a week ago when he was down in the garage doing some cleaning. Apparently, there was a box filled with those corn-based packing peanuts. And Aa discovered the little peanuts scattered around the garage, half-eaten, and a huge hole in the box itself. Also, droppings. I am reporting all this second-hand, see, because THERE IS NO EFFING WAY I AM GOING DOWN THERE UNTIL THE RATTIES ARE GONE.

Over the past few days, Aa has observed that the rats have clawed at the door separating the garage and the basement proper. At least one of the ratties successfully got through that door, because there are now droppings in our basement. Of course, we are having exterminators come. They come this afternoon (I will thankfully be at work when this happens). But just the idea that the rats are clawing through the garage door and are slowly invading our living space freaks me out, but I'm not freaking out as badly as I thought I would.

There are a few reasons I'm not totally losing my shit about the ratties. One, I know rats show up around here. We kind of live in a high-rat traffic area. There's a gas station right next to our backyard, with a huge dumpster a couple of feet from our back fence. And more than once, I've seen one of those little disease-carriers running across our back fence at dusk. But in 2. years, they've never come into our backyard (that I've seen) and they've never, ever come into our house (till now). None of our neighbors report frequent or recurring rat problems. So it seems like there's a truce of some kind between the vermin and the human residents of this block. At least, imagining this makes me feel better.

Two, I don't want to turn this into another thing about the Midwest versus the Pacific NW, but the rats here are fucking tiny. They look like mice with really long tails. The rats I saw running along the subway tracks in Chicago (or, one morning, running down Dearborn as a bunch of us office drones sleepily made our way to our cublicles) are like twice the size of these little guys. They looked like the rat in Lady and the Tramp - you know, that big fucker with the glowy red eyes that wanted to eat that baby? That's how big the rats I saw in Chicago were. Big, baby-eating size. I thought all rats were that big. Now, I know these littler rats are still capable of carrying disease around and they're obviously still able to claw and poop everyplace. That makes me shudder, but it doesn't make me want to run screaming from my own house.

Three, my dog isn't freaking out. See, my dog was bred in part to hunt big rats in Africa. And we had a rat in our old apartment once. I was, praise Jeebus, out of town. But Aa describes how Zack went after that little ratty. Aa says the rat was first spotted in the kitchen, running across our countertop. Aa was holding Zack. Zack spotted the rat and apparently leapt straight out of Aa's arms onto the counter to catch the rat. He chased it away, but later that night he awoke from a dead sleep - the rat was now in the bedroom, and Zack was determined to catch it. Aa said he'd never seen Zack like that before. Probably our poor dog was having the time of his life. I explain all this because for the last few days, Zack hasn't been acting any differently. He's not shown any awareness of other animals in our house, especially ones he was bred to hunt and kill. So either my dog has become significantly more domesticated and stupid in the last two years, or the rats aren't coming anywhere near us humans. Because if they were, my dog would be reacting. This last bit of knowledge is pretty much what lets me go to sleep at night unconcerned about the ratties breaching the upstairs.

Zack spends a lot of time relaxing

2009-03-11T23:00:00.001-07:00

That crazy bitch makes a good oatmeal cookie

2009-03-01T21:51:00.001-08:00

I think Martha Stewart is insane. This is hardly an earth-shattering or a particularly unique admission. I think my hatred of all things Martha started with a couple of friends in college who were really into her domestic goddess-ness. And it drove me batty. I'll admit here that part of my reaction in college was because I was pretty certain I wanted no part of marriage and the gender roles that I thought went along with it. But aside from that, I have always been a deeply lazy individual. I just did not understand why anyone would work so hard on purpose in order to throw a party. When you're 20, a party requires three things - some substance that allows you to be progressively challenged by communicating and walking in a straight line, other people, and a place where you can ingest said substance and be around said people for a few hours. What a party did not require back then was a votive holder carved out of a radish.

Anywho. So I had a problem with Martha Stewart back then. And now, as part of a married couple that loves throwing parties, I admit there's some benefit to making things kind of nice for the folks who come over. HOWEVER! Martha's whole deal is still annoying. Her nonsense about how anyone can live graciously if they follow her lead, leaving aside her independent wealth, staff, and copious free time. And, not to belabor the point, but she seems nucking futs.

A couple of weeks ago, though, our friends M and K had us over for dinner. And K made the most amazing oatmeal cookies ever for dessert. They were delicious. Perfect. And, I was disappointed to learn, a Martha Stewart recipe.

Tonight, Aa asked me to make some oatmeal cookies. (Yeah, hi, remember that little diatribe about gender roles above? I know.) I've been thinking about those cookies K made since I ate them. So I found the recipe. And tonight, I made them. And despite not having a standing mixer like Martha specifies in the recipe, they turned out really really great. They're the best oatmeal cookies I've ever had.

And Martha Stewart is still crazy.

Things that are embarrassing, OR, How I sometimes miss the painfully obvious

2009-02-19T21:23:00.000-08:00

So, a while back, I got Zack a little fleecy jacket. I'm not gonna go over my reasons again for buying my dog clothes. But anyway. I get him in his little coat and we head out for a walk. People stop and stare at my dog all the time. He's cute, he prances like a tiny horse, and he has that weird cinnamon roll tail sitting on his butt. I can't count the number of times people have stopped me during a walk to ask about him and pet him.

On this particular walk, lots of people were stopping and staring, but nobody was looking to talk to me about Zack. In fact, I'm not gonna lie to you, there were some smirks. Some chuckles. Maybe, dear reader, a person or two pointed at us. I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on.

Then I got home and looked in the mirror.

(photo taken by the lovely SW, who owns the normal, non-clothes-needing dog in the shot.)

Me, My Mom, Summer Camp, and Satan

2009-02-16T22:06:00.000-08:00

I told this mostly-true story last month at the storytelling series I produce w/ some friends. Some of it was changed to make a better narrative.

**

When I was 10 years old, I got sent to a summer camp for a week. It turns out, this camp was a super-Christian camp. The week was spent doing camp things like making lanyards and grabbing your swim buddy's hand when your counselor blew the whistle. But it was also spent trying to get non-super Christians to testify, to ask Jesus into our hearts. I was a non-super Christian. My family was more culturally Catholic than anything – we really only went to church on Christmas and Easter.

My week at camp culminated with me and several other campers being put in a dark room on a sunny afternoon with a big guy who scared us with stories about Hell and Satan. At the end of that afternoon, I was ready to testify. I did that night at the bonfire. Everyone cheered. I loved being Christian! Two days later we left – me with a bunch of pamphlets, nominally about Jesus, but in reality about Hell and Satan. There was even a drawing on the front of one of some poor sucker falling down a crevice in the earth into the fires of Hades.

Pretty much as soon as I got home, I tried to save my little sister using those pamphlets. It didn't work. My mom found out and she sat me down and told me I was making her nervous. She actually compared me to this evil character named Mitch Laurence on this soap, One Life To Live, who was using Christianity to like build up a harem of unsuspecting virgins and I think rob a bank or something. Anyway. But I managed to convince her this summer camp was the greatest thing ever, so the next year she sent me back.

In the year that I'd not been at camp, I'd secretly kept my fervor for Christianity alive. I prayed almost every night in the way I'd been taught at camp. But the thing that really kept me going was my fascination with Hell. With Satan and demons and demonic energy. I'd spent a lot of that year repeatedly reading the creepier parts of Revelations, and I really enjoyed learning about saints who'd had direct contact with Satan. I was in a Catholic school so I had regular access to the Bible and all kinds of creepy, violent saint stories. So by the time I got back to my Jesus camp, I was really excited to talk about the Devil. I quickly befriended one of my camp counselors, Miss Shelly, with my religious zeal. It was like a matter of hours before I was telling her all about my "research" into Hell and Satan and all things demonic. But Miss Shelly was horrified. She told me that she understood my fascination – she too was fascinated with the same things. But I needed to be disciplined and strong and not give in to my fascination. Because that was how Satan got in, see. You opened your mind to him and he just got in there. He did it in all kinds of ways – from movies like the Exorcist or Rosemary's Baby to games like ouija boards. Shelly told me Satan was very crafty and would use my non-Christian friends and family to try to weasel his way into my brain and heart and take over. I needed, in short, to be constantly vigilant.

Being vigilant at camp was easy. Every night at bonfire we talked about how great Jesus was. One night I even told one of my more skeptical camper friends that I knew Jesus was in my heart because I wasn't getting bitten by mosquitoes that night – it was Jesus' love protecting me. But when the week was coming to an end, I started getting nervous. How was I going to stay strong and not look up things on Hell and the Devil at school? There was a nearly limitless resource at my disposal – a library stocked with books by an ancient nun named Sr. Cortona who liked nothing better than to scare the crap out of us kids. I shared my concerns with Miss Shelly, and she promised to help me. She said we could be pen pals and every time I felt tempted to research Satan, I could write her instead and she'd write back telling me to stay strong. So we did just that for months. And it mostly helped.

As Halloween approached, I got more and more letters of warning from Shelly. But I was feeling stronger than ever. Then, as Christmas approached, Miss Shelly warned me about some of the gifts I might receive that could be portals to Satan. The book series Flowers in the Attic was one I needed to watch out for. I think she was worried about Judy Blume books too. But top of her list was the ouijia board.

Meanwhile, my mom was getting really excited about Christmas – she did every year. And she started dropping hints about gifts she got me. For the first time ever, I was not excited about Christmas. I was actually fucking terrified. I had no idea which gift might knock me off the wagon and send me frantically re-reading our home encyclopedia's entry on Satan again. But Miss Shelly kept telling me to stay strong.

Christmas morning came, and opening presents under the tree proved to be much less stressful than I'd feared. I'd begun to relax as my mom handed me a rectangular box. She had a big smile on her face. "I had one of these when I was a kid!!" she said. "I just thought it was so fun!!" I opened it. It was a ouija board. I don't know what the look on my face was like, and I knew I had to act like I liked it. But my mind was reeling. MY MOTHER WAS CLEARLY AN AGENT OF SATAN.

Later that day, I started trying to write Miss Shelly a letter about what had happened. But I couldn't finish it. I couldn't tell her my mother was an agent of the devil. I didn't know what the consequences of admitting that would be. She might have been a foot soldier for Satan, but she was still my mom. I tried a bunch of times to write Miss Shelly about it, but I could just never do it. And I stopped answering her letters too soon after. My heart wasn't in it anymore. Then I stopped praying every night, and kind of stopped caring about Satan and demons in general. I got into horses and I joined my school's basketball team. And I stopped trying to get my sister to testify to Jesus. So, I don't know if that means that Satan won or what. But there's just no way I was OK with my mom being a servant of the Dark Lord.

"He screams and then he eats his hands and then he screams some more."

2009-02-12T21:01:00.000-08:00

This is how my sister described my wondernephew Max last week, 4 days after his birth. He's chilled out on the screaming, but he still likes to eat his hands.

I'm currently in Nebraska, hanging out with my sister, brother-and-law, and mom, and my wondernephew. From what I can tell, his two favorite things in the world to do are sleep and snuggle. This is heartbreaking it is so cute. The picture you see here conveys about 1/100th of his insane adorableness.

(Image borrowed from MK and J's blog about Max)

Babies and Facebook

2009-02-02T14:01:00.000-08:00

First things first.

Maxwell Brent Gulick, also known as my nephew, also known as the most amazing child the world has ever known, was born this morning in Lincoln, NE, to my excellent sister and brother in law. I am so excited about this kid. Holy crap am I excited.

More details (and hopefully pictures of my wondernephew) here.

Secondly.

I found out about Max's birth this AM because Aa checked FB before I checked my voicemail. My sister had been updating to let her FB friends know she was in labor and had delivered a boy. This was the second time in the last three days I found out about a birth b/c the new mom (or someone close to her) was updating her status on Facebook to reflect what was happening. The other was my amazing friend W, who had twin boys Saturday afternoon.

I'm definitely not judging or anything here - I think it's kind of cool that both my sister and Wendy kept upating their FB status to inform folks. I loved reading everyone's notes of congratulations and comments to each other. In both cases, it kept the excitement and joy going longer than a phone call would, and it probably meant many fewer phone calls for both my sister and W to immediately worry about.

Although I will say that none of the FB updates from either my sister or W got me quite as emotional as the voicemail my sister left early this morning. She sounded a little hoarse, really sleepy, and incredibly happy. I burst into tears as I listened to her. I then played the voicemail for Aa, who also teared up. Then we sat at our kitchen table, over our oatmeal, hugging and teary-eyed and grinning at each other and laughing.

Zack, for the record, totally doesn't care about any of this.

Some Things

2009-01-27T22:52:00.000-08:00

Finishing up a couple of things for this Saturday's Weekend America, which is the final show. After like 5 weeks, I am only just now accepting that I got laid off from my awesome freelance gig b/c of the show's cancellation. I kept thinking about everyone else who was being laid off and I sort of forgot about myself. I still have my full-time job. It's not that bad obviously. I just, like, an hour ago, kind of stopped what I was doing and thought, "Wait a minute. This is the last time I will be writing for this show." Gonna miss it.

Earlier today Glenn asked me if I was in one piece and then said that here on DEFCON, I kind of just talk about the times when, as he said, "the world picks you up and spins you around by your ankles". I have been thinking about this. I think I might try to write about...hmmm. About not when the world picks me up and spins me by the ankles.

Waiting for Yertle to make an appearance. Once that happens, I'm purchasing a ticket to Lincoln to meet this certain-to-be exceptional child.

Why do I keep eating Pringles? I always feel like crap after eating them. They don't even taste that good. What's my problem?

Aa is in San Francisco for work this week. This means I have to clean out the little stovetop espresso maker guy for the morning. I love that thing so much. It makes early mornings bearable.

Tropic Thunder is funnier the second time. The shock of watching Robert Downey Jr essentially in blackface has mostly worn off. Also, I just love the end credits/ Tom Cruise dance number. Don't know why. Just do.

Have I mentioned yet that when Zack snores it is the greatest thing in the world? It is. Snore on, little dog.

Goodnight.

A weird dream from a while ago

2009-01-13T16:24:00.001-08:00

So, I am helping Omar from the Wire. He is trying to hide from whichever shitty Baltimore drug dealing cartel that wants him dead this week. Omar is used to people wanting him dead, but this is different. It's serious, and he's worried. So, of course, he's come to me.

I am desperately worried about Omar in the dream. It's very important to me that he remain safe. Finally, I come up with an idea. I take him to the Catholic church / school I went to as a kid*. I find my pastor, Father Dubi**, ***. Father Dubi was a radical guy for a Catholic priest - he meditated and allowed girls to be altar servers. I beg Father Dubi to take Omar in - to hide him in plain sight as an altar boy****. "We are running out of time!" I say to Father Dubi. "This is the only place he'll be safe! They'll never look for him here!!" The alarm goes off before I get Father Dubi to agree to help keep Omar safe. I wake up feeling extremely panicked.

*The school was closed several years ago.

**Yes, his name is really Father Dubi. We thought this was hilarious in grade school. Father Dubi was an intense dude. He looked like Jesus and wore Birkenstocks. Studs Terkel interviewed Father Dubi in his book, Will The Circle Be Unbroken?

***Father Dubi hasn't been at St. Anne for a long time.

****I don't know why this felt like a good plan in my dream. In reality it is unworkable on so very many levels.

Puppedential Debates

2009-01-07T18:20:00.000-08:00

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Road to the Doghouse - Puppedential Debate

Barack Obama Interview
John McCain Interview

Sarah Palin Video
Funny Election Video

An open letter to the state of Nebraska

2009-01-06T13:22:00.000-08:00

Dear Nebraska,

How've you been? I notice that lately your weather hasn't sucked too badly. Way to go!! I'm writing to ask you to please keep your weather reasonable and mild for the next several weeks. I have three reasons for asking:

1. My sister, who lives within your borders, will be having her baby very soo n. I want the roads to be clear of snow and ice to ensure safe passage for her and this baby, who is certain to do amazing things.

2. I will be visiting you at some point in the next several weeks to spend time with my sister and this miracle baby. I want safe, clear roads during this time.

3. My mother and my brother-in-law's mom will both be making similar visits. Again, I want safe, clear roads for them.

Now, Nebraska, don't take this the wrong way. You have many wonderful things going for you. Like...you have a nice zoo. Your recently-retired Senator, Chuck Hagel, seems like a pretty decent guy. You have more hills than one might expect from a state located on the Great Plains. And I understand your steaks are supposed to be quite delicious. However, your ability to maintain clear, safe roadways during snowy and icy weather leaves something to be desired. Of course, Nebraska, you have every right to decide whether it's worth taxing your residents to pay for snowplows and salt and the like. I'm not trying to tell you how to keep your house. I merely ask that you keep this current, non-snowy and non-icy weather going for a while so I and the people I love can fully appreciate your otherwise exemplary highway and road system.

Oh, and Nebraska? As long as I'm making suggestions - and really, I'm just blue-skying at this point - what if your lovely restaurants had vegetarian options for food outside of Gardenburgers and cheese pizza? Is that crazy? Just thinking out loud here.

I really look forward to seeing you soon and catching up, Nebraska. It's been a while.

Go Huskers,

Jeannie

Hi, 2009

2009-01-01T14:19:00.000-08:00

Last night we had our first New Years' party since we left Chicago eight years ago. (Also, HOLY SHIT. We left Chicago eight years ago.) Back then, the party was at Aa's sweet apartment on Barry. Then, our buddy G wore his cruise ship entertainment director guy tuxedo (and name tag!!) to host the shindig. We bought close to 50 champagne flutes at Goodwill. We dressed up (there is a picture of me somewhere in shiny burgundy pants applying lipstick in prep for this party, in fact. This photo is buried, like the Ark of the Covenant, in our basement). After midnight, we all took cabs to The Note and stayed out till 5 am. New Years' Day was spent in a deep hangover with several friends who spent the night. It was exhausting and I'm pretty sure it was fun, but I don't remember much of it after folks started arriving.

Last night, Aaron made mini-horseshoe sandwiches and we wore jeans. Nearly everyone left by 1 am. I had a manhattan and half a glass of champagne, and was in bed before 1:30. I remember all of it - it was definitely fun.

And today, Aaron used the leftover horseshoe ingredients to make a pie for R & H's yearly pie party. I know, just looking at these photos can make you feel like never eating again.

So far, I think 2009 has been pretty good. I'm going for a run tomorrow morning, my first in 5 weeks since my Thanksgiving tumble. Just typing that sentence, "I am going for a run", makes me want to clap. For the first time in my life, I have deeply mundane resolutions dealing with household budgets and organization, and I am thrilled about implementing and fulfilling those resolutions. Aa and I both think 2009 will be a year of big changes for us, and we're excited about that. And personally, I feel more grounded and capable and adult than I think I ever have (leaving aside my ridiculous dietary choices of the last 24 hours). Getting older no longer freaks me out. My youth was my youth, I'm going to be 35 this year, and I'm really excited about that milestone. What's my point here? I don't know if I have one. I guess what I'm trying to say is at some point, my perspective shifted from looking back and being sad about what's past to looking forward and being excited about what's coming. And something about the past few weeks has caused me to recognize that shift in myself, and it's neat. So in short, I had a really great new year's. And I hope you all did too.

Snowpocalypse

2008-12-24T18:24:00.000-08:00

So Seattle's been experiencing a bit of a weather anomaly the past week or so. It's been snowing here. A lot. And the snow has stuck around. This effectively has shut the city down. Buses either run really truncated routes or just stop running altogether. People either leave their snowed-in cars alone and walk, or they take their cars out and drive, for the most part, stupidly and carelessly. The city of Seattle, of course, refuses to take any responsibility for the fact that its snow response is woefully inadequate. That's actually boring to me at this point. It's snowed, I think, every winter here for the past 4 years. Even if it's a little bit of snow that only sticks for an hour, it wreaks havoc here. Different degrees of havoc, sure, but havoc nonetheless.

Currently, the falling snow is turning to rain and everything's becoming slushy and sloshy. I was joking with someone earlier today that the Snowpocalypse, as some have been calling it here, will soon be turning into a Slushpocalypse, then a Floodpocalypse. I wanted to get outside and take pictures of all the snowmen people have built in my neighborhood, but I stupidly walked to and from work on Monday and re-injured my sprained foot and have been housebound all day. But it would have been an awesome post. There were amazing snowmen all around, from the little guys my 6-year old next door neighbors made (twins, like them, and about the same height as them) to the terrifying, 7-foot snowman just down the street. The snowman grimaced, as though he were in terrible pain. And across his chest was scrawled "Merry Christmas Everyone!". I think they used red food coloring, but really? It looked like blood. I am pretty sure the people who built the snowman didn't mean for him to be so horrifying, but the thing is close enough to the sidewalk that I've noticed people give it a twice-over and then alter their path to give the snowman a wider berth.

So in lieu of the sweet documentation of now-melting snowmen (I wonder if the scary one is melting red? Creepy!) I offer you a link to this excellent website. Coldtastrophe, indeed.

Merry Christmas!

Headed Home

2008-12-10T22:15:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow morning we head home to Illinois for a little more than a week. Nearly all of that time will be spent in central IL, seeing Aa's family (especially his grandparents). It's always fun to go home, and this year I've been home way more than usual (a partial explanation of why most of my friends and family will be getting not a gee dee thing from me this Christmas - because I'm broke. Um, happy holidays!! If you live in Seattle I'll probably end up baking you some cookies anydamnway). But I must admit I feel a little tingle of excitement to be headed back to the state that gave us this: "I've got this thing," ... "and it's [expletive] golden. And I'm just not giving it up for [expletive] nothing. I'm not going to do it." Oh, Rod, Rod, Rod. I actually meant to print out the full 74-page affadavit so I could read it on the plane, but our printer sucks so I'm not going to.

I kind of can't believe this story just broke yesterday. It feels like it happened so much longer ago! This could, of course, be because I have been following this story obsessively since it broke. I can't help it! It's like they added another season of The Wire, only IT'S HAPPENING IN MY HOME STATE. I mean, yes, it's definitely awful and god, what a fucking idiot to have a CONFERENCE CALL about trying to sell Obama's old Senate seat. And, boy, what a great example of Democratic corruption Republicans now have to point at. I know all of these things. Deeply ugly. But, I'm sorry, it's really entertaining too. Would I feel different if I lived in Illinois? I don't think so. I think when someone falls as hard and as stupidly as Blagojevich is falling, you kind of can't help but laugh, even if you feel bad. It's like watching someone take a bad spill on the street. It hurts, for sure. But later, when you're home and you're thinking about that crazy slapstick-looking fall you saw that poor sap take? You're gonna laugh.

zackmas time

2008-12-07T19:06:00.000-08:00

and he's watching you.

No, I don't just look for videos of dogs doing funny things all day.

2008-12-03T15:17:00.000-08:00

But I can understand why you'd think that.

(wait until around 29 seconds in!!)

Via Dooce.

Portions, Age, and Heat: How i learned to recook the thanksgiving's of my youth

2008-11-29T22:30:00.000-08:00

Grandma Starkey (see earlier post for her on rowboat), as she got older, would unknowingly, increase the size of some ingredients in dishes as it became harder for her to see/read things with a high degree of granularity.

On one occasion, this included a pumpkin pie with whole cloves in the mix instead of ground cloves. it was a treasure hunt to eat the pie and pick out the cloves without letting her see you were doing it (she could still see well enough to scold!)...if you missed one of those little nuggets of pain, you had a big hot and spicy surprise in your mouth as punishment. These thanksgivings though, when everyone was still around and alive, are always in my mind every year when I go to cook my own thanksgiving meal. It is a continuum.

Growing up in the midwest, thanksgiving food was always a bit cold, bland and ill timed. Then again, almost all central Illinois food was (is...) always kinda like that....

Anyway, i digress...when Jeannie and I moved to Seattle in 2001, I was sick for two weeks and we were living in crappy corporate housing right near pike place market and i watched the food channel for two weeks straight. (didn't waste money on cable when we lived in Chicago.) A connection was made and it started with seeing all of the crabs at the market...and watching Emirll...i wanted to make crab cakes! (it's still an obsession of mine.)

Fast forward to our first thanksgiving in Seattle later that same year...many crab cakes later. Remember, we knew no one when we moved here...zero friends. But as the year progressed we slowly made connections with a few people, and being that we weren't near our families, we decided to have thanksgiving at our house and invite all of the people that we knew up to that time...which was about 8 people. Inspired by my new found love of making things that i actually wanted to eat...I took it upon myself to create the most perfect of all thanksgiving meals and correct the errors and missteps of the past.

Hot food, timed perfectly, delicious turkey, and real mashed potatoes like i'd seen on TV.

So...that year, i brined a turkey (i'd never even roasted a chicken before) for the first time, bought a couple of used crock pots, small chaffer from the restaurant supply store and proceeded to kick the shit out of myself for two days trying to get everything perfect for our 8 guests. I was exhausted...i used crappy pans, a dull knife, just bad tools...but it all worked. everything was hot, nothing was gummy, there was no jello in the cranberries (not judging!...just wanted to try the real thing!), the sweet potatoes were beautiful, the roasted pumpkin and mushroom soup i'd been reducing for over a day was thick and beautiful..i'd never had soup like that before. I was also wiped out, my legs were killing me, i'd burned my hand in more than one place, sliced my thumb ,and was generally beat down just like the potatoes (although i used a ricer for those)

But the food was awesome (at least that's what they said to my face...) And thus a tradition was started. Since then, every year, we have invited our old friends and new friends to our house to eat dinner and to watch me stress out as I throw down the hardest things I can muster to cook, with the best ingredients I can find. i have wised up a bit though and i do ask people to bring certain things...but every year i also try and find new ways and new recipes and new techniques so that i can experience the exhilaration of doing something i've never done before by creating a meal that our friends (our guest list has more than doubled in size) will walk away thinking that it was the best thanksgiving meal they've ever had.

And the food is always hot and the cloves are ALWAYS removed from the pumpkin pie, when we have it...I, myself, prefer pecan or macadamia nut pie...)

GIANT, ELBOW-HAVING SQUID!

2008-11-25T14:31:00.000-08:00

From this post from National Geographic's website. Yes, it seems a little weird / sad / unsettling that this video was captured by a Shell Oil robot, since Shell owns that part of the Gulf of Mexico. Yes, it totally looks like the big guy is fishing. Yes, HE TOTALLY LOOKS LIKE A SPACE ALIEN. Yes, it is really kind of neat that this video was sent out via email from Shell Oil employee to Shell Oil employee. I really like my job, but I never get work-related email like this.

Guess I'll be making skull-OPS for dinner then

2008-11-20T13:49:00.000-08:00

Sunday night Aa, our friends R & H, and I went to dinner at Poppy, one of the new restaurants here in Seattle that's been getting a lot of attention. (The chef-owner was head chef at the dizzyingly expensive Herbfarm for several years, and garnered just tons of foodie praise during that time.) It was a meal I'd been looking forward to for a while. And the food was really kind of amazing, like the culinary version of seeing a technically perfect gymnastics routine in the Olympics. Flawless, but kind of sterile. It kind of felt like the food came out of a very clinical kitchen. And the restaurant felt weirdly clinical too. Our main waitress lady talked to us like we were kids and she was our teacher. People kept trying to take H's food away before she was done eating. All in all, I don't know if I'd go back.

But the thing that sticks with me is this odd discussion we had with the runner who dropped our food off. She explained what each little dish was as she came to it. And one dish had shallots in it. Her description: "...and this is the black cod with fried shul-LOTS and peanuts..." At which point everyone at the table started looking confused. Shul-LOT? What the hell is a shul-LOT? One of us, I can't remember who, asked "Is it really prounounced "shul-LOT"? Someone else piped up: "yeah, I always thought it was "SHALL-uht". The runner looked at all of us. "Uh, no. It's shul-LOT. That's how we all say it here." In saying that, it was clear she meant "that's how our superstar chef guy, the reason you're probably here, says it. There's no way he's wrong and you all are right." We were all silent for a moment, until one of us said something like, "well, you learn something new every day!". Then we all chuckled and the runner went away. We mumbled amongst ourselves ("that can't be right"; "seriously? Shul-LOT?") and then went on with our dinner.

For some reason, four days later I am still thinking about this. I mean, I worked in restaurants before, and I can imagine the kitchen staff deciding to mess with the cute, naive young runner. "Yup, it's definitely shul-LOT. Everyone knows that. All serious chefs pronounce it that way." Which makes me feel a twinge of compassion for the young woman. But I think what sticks with me is not how funny that interchange should have been, or should be in my memory (because, shul-LOT? That's funny. It's like saying I had len-TEEL soup for lunch today or something). It's the snootyish certainty the young woman had when she explained the right way to say shallot. I mean, if you look it up it turns out you can say it both ways, but who do you know who says shul-LOT? Thinking about how and why the runner felt so certain about her pronunciation does make the memory sort of funny, and that makes me feel even worse for her...at some point she will realize she sounds like a crazy person when she says shul-LOT. And that singular exchange won't keep me from going back to Poppy. Probably it's the rest of it, the weird hermetically-sealed-clinical-technical-perfection part of it. I like my food with a little feeling, I guess. Kind of slop-PEE.

all i have to say...

2008-11-13T15:25:00.000-08:00

All i have to say is that Zack's new name, at least for the remainder of the week is "Stoney".

Stoney the Basenji.

yeah.

Bad Day

2008-11-12T16:44:00.000-08:00

This morning, after my shower, I headed into the kitchen to grab my coffee and toast. There, on the floor, was a plastic bag with a bunch of pearl onions Aa'd bought the day before. Zack had clearly taken a couple of big bites out of the plastic bag (he chews plastic when he's worked up about something). What I couldn't tell, though, was whether he'd eaten any onions. Onions, along with garlic, grapes, chocolate, and caffeine, are toxic to dogs. With onions, there is some sort of chemical thingie that happens that basically makes their red blood cells fall apart. The loose hemoglobin eventually causes kidney failure.

I called my vet to tell her what happened. I expected her to tell me that I should watch him for signs of toxicity (the first of which are sluggishness and disinterest, which is basically what Zack is like every morning anyway). Instead, she told me to bring him in immediately so they could induce vomiting. Aa was unreachable, and he had the car. I called a cab, grabbed the Zacker, and headed to the vet. They checked him in around 11 am and asked me to "stay close". So I spent the next 3.5 hours wandering aimlessly around the neighborhood near our vet's office. It was really strange to just walk around, not knowing how my dog was doing, and not knowing what to expect next. I mean, I wasn't even sure if he'd eaten any of the damn onions. But clearly it was serious enough for my vet to want to take immediate action.

Around 2:30, my vet called. They'd used morphine and a water flush to try and get him to puke - no dice. Zack was just refusing to throw up. We needed to decide whether we were going to take him to an animal ER to have his stomach pumped, or if we just wanted to give him some activated charcoal to help move whatever toxins he'd might have ingested through his body. I called Aa and updated him, and he left work to come meet me at the vet. It was then that he asked me if I'd counted the number of onions left over. No, of course I hadn't. My first thought was whether our dog was going to die from onion poisoning.

We picked up our totally high-on-morphine dog after asking the vet to give him activated charcoal as a precaution. The poor guy could barely stand up, and he was leaking black liquid out of his butt. "It's kind of like Ex-Lax", the vet explained, as she handed us some pads and garbage bags to line the car interior. We went home to count some onions and try to devise a method of diapering our dog. As we got in the car, Zack started leaking more aggressively while trying to lay down in the grass. Aa looked at me and asked if I was sure about wanting kids.

So it turns out that Zack ate either no onions at all or a very tiny bit of onion. I can't tell if I overreacted or did exactly the right thing or what. The vet's response made me think I responded the right way. But if I'd dug the grocery store receipt out of the recycling and weighed the onions before calling the vet, I would have known Zack was going to be fine, thus saving Aa and me a day of worry. And, it should be mentioned, saving Zack an afternoon of morphine and charcoal and leaky black butt and Pampers (I totally did diaper him for a couple of hours there). I'm so, so glad he's fine, but I am a little mad at myself that I didn't think about trying another means of verifying whether he ate any onions this morning. So I guess I learned a lesson today? Or something?

Did I mention I got a new library card today? There's a library right by my vet's office. I spent a lot of time there today. That was cool.

Dispatch from Chicago

2008-11-09T14:16:00.000-08:00

This morning, in the Barnes and Noble (where I was wasting time while my parents watched football, that's right I just don't care about the Bears anymore DISOWN ME NOW HOME CITY I JUST DON'T CARE), the four people in line before me all wanted help finding something with Barack Obama on the cover. Three people were looking for the Sun-Times; they were all sold out. The people all had clearly disappointed children with them, who were told, "Don't worry. We'll keep looking!". The fourth person, a man without children, was looking for The Economist. It was also sold out. When I got up to the counter, I asked why The Economist was sold out. The clerk said, "It had Barack on the cover. I sold the last one last night. We're also sold out of the New York Times, Newsweek, Time Magazine, and Us Weekly. They all had Barack on the cover too."
Everyone here calls him Barack. Not Barack Obama, or Obama, like I hear in Seattle. Barack.
Monday and Tuesday it was in the 70's here. Today it started snowing at Soldier Field.
Yesterday was my sister's baby shower. She got so much stuff (admittedly much of it from my mom and me) her Subaru wagon deal couldn't fit it all. Babies apparently need a mind-numbing amount of things.
I have eaten cookies at least twice a day every day since I got here. Paul, Liz, I blame you. It's super easy for my jeans to magically get tighter when I'm home, but you guys are absolute experts at compounding that danger.

President Obama.

2008-11-04T20:33:00.000-08:00

President Barack Obama. About goddamn time.

Watching, Waiting

2008-11-04T16:18:00.000-08:00

I'm home, listening (of course) to NPR's coverage of the election results and (of course!) drinking a split shot Americano. Earlier I took my dog for a walk. He was wearing his little orange fleece (OF COURSE). So far NPR (and CNN, which the NYT is blogging) is calling Vermont for Obama and Kentucky for McCain. This isn't super surprising. Also, our hardly-ever-used land line has been ringing like crazy the past few days with robo-calls and volunteer calls. Which, I appreciate the effort, but I am not the person you need to talk to here! My mind is so made up.

Voting today was actually pretty fun. It's the last time I'll be able to go to an actual polling place in my county; next election, we're switching entirely to mail-in ballots, like much of the rest of the state. My polling place was a grade school, and I got there just as school let out. Bouncy, shrieky children were everywhere - I remember that energy of finally being done with the school day and NOT HAVING TO SIT IN A DESK ANYMORE. I was surrounded by that elated energy as I went to vote, which felt pretty neat and celebratory. There was a bake sale in the hallway on the way into the voting booths. You had to walk past the yummy baked goods TWICE, on your way in and on your way out. Diabolically clever. I totally bought a cookie.

Dude, Elizabeth Dole might lose her Senate seat? Wow.

OK! Going to our friend W's house. More later. I have champagne. Which I will be drinking no matter what.

Zack's Revenge

2008-11-02T15:29:00.000-08:00

And with good reason. Two years ago, we made him dress up like a lobster. This year, we decided to do it again.

He managed to let us know in no unequivocal terms how displeased he was at this. Aa and I turned our backs for about three seconds. And in that time, Zack chewed off one of the lobster arms. I turned around and he was simultaneously trying to rip the costume off his body and eat the lobster leg he'd chewed off his costume. See how bad he wants to eat that lobster leg?

Lessons I Apparently Haven't Learned Yet

2008-10-30T22:16:00.000-07:00

Eating a bunch of candy right before bed is a stupid thing to do, especially if I expect to fall asleep at a reasonable hour.
If, while running, part of my body begins to hurt and then continues to hurt, with ever-increasing intensity of pain, I NEED TO STOP RUNNING.
The house will be clean, and the house will be dirty. And when the house is dirty, it is possible to change that by action. It is not possible to change that by freaking out about how fucking dirty the house is.
I don't always need to know what I'm doing.

Not much.

2008-10-26T22:00:00.000-07:00

There hasn't been much for me to say this past week or so. I feel like both Aa and I have been just ridiculously busy lately. I'm getting a little stressed about how to deal with Christmas, but this is nothing unusual. Aa made some beautiful homemade pizza for dinner tonight. I am concerned about all the things I need to get done this week.

Currently, we're watching a deeply stupid movie called The Contract. It's the second John Cusack vehicle we've tried to watch tonight - the first was War, Inc. I want to know what the eff happened to John Cusack actually. Say Anything? Grosse Pointe Blank? These were awesome movies. He was awesome in them. I don't think he's done anything good since Grosse Pointe Blank. Wait, I guess High Fidelity was in there, which seemed to be a well-liked movie. But that film just made me uncomfortable. The arc of "man-child pulls his head out of his ass a teeny, tiny bit" was just not interesting. It was both interesting and weird to see many of my old stomping grounds in Chicago featured in the movie. And now I can appreciate some things about it, but overall? There are still moments in that movie that make me feel embarrassed and uncomfortable. Oh John Cusack, you have broken my heart.

Alright. Time to go to bed.

Zack And Pillows: Three Compositions

2008-10-15T21:12:00.000-07:00

Six entirely unrelated things

2008-10-12T21:11:00.001-07:00

1. I need more sleep. Right now I'm watching the end of Victor, Victoria, a movie I've seen approximately 15 bajillion times, and I'm tearing up.

2. Our friend Lynn told me this great story about the post-wedding ceremony dinner. The food was coming out, and all of the different salad dressings were in plastic containers. One was white and had a B on the cover. Lynn was standing near my Uncle Jim and said, "oh, that must be blue cheese". And my Uncle Jim, totally deadpan, said, "no, B is for bacteria". This has made me laugh every time I think about it.

3. I pretty much destroyed my kitchen making a ton of stir-fried carrot and cabbage salad and roasted veggies for an enchilada sauce. There's just a bunch of stuff I need to clean up. All my stupid dog is doing is sleeping next to me on the couch, looking all cute. I have tried time and time again to train him to at least load the effing dishwasher. All he does is stare at me.

3a. All the veggies in the carrot salad and roasted veggie sauce came either from our farmer's market or our backyard. Except the garlic - that came from Garrick's farm.

4. I can eat way more donuts in a week than I thought I could, especially if I tell myself that because they're vegan they're somehow good for me.

5. I had a crazy dream about Omar from the wire and the Catholic church / school I went to as a kid. I'll get into that later.

6. I am tired, tired, tired.

More wedding photos

2008-10-08T14:39:00.000-07:00

You can view the full set here. Michael, our friend and photographer, did a fantastic job. Yay!

Visual Aid

2008-10-03T12:18:00.000-07:00

Shock

2008-10-01T18:54:00.001-07:00

I just found out that a friend of mine from college was killed in Afghanistan Monday. It was, I think, his third tour over there. I just heard from him like two weeks ago. He wrote to congratulate me on the wedding and asked me to post pictures he could look at afterward. I asked him to send me a mailing address. I was so glad to hear from him I wanted to make sure we stayed in touch. And I really wanted to bake him some cookies and send them to him. Wanting to bake cookies and then send them to Afghanistan seems incredibly naive right now. Like he was in summer camp in Michigan or something.

I remember when my friend Gina told me he'd joined the army in the first place. He'd just been divorced. And when I saw him, he told me the army was a great place to channel his anger over the breakup. But he also discovered he was good at being a soldier. He liked the structure and the challenge. He knew he could become an officer too. When I last saw him, we were at Gina's mom's wake. He was dressed in his formal uniform. He looked wonderful, and I was so glad to see him. He was still pretty much the same guy I knew in college - funny, sarcastic, sharp as hell, but really sweet and generous. I still felt like I'd achieved something notable when I made him laugh hard, which was probably one of my favorite feelings in college too. I say all this because I remember not being able to understand the commitment he'd made to the army in the first place. It seemed like a thoroughly alien decision to me. I remember thinking he must just be going through a phase of some kind, not a career or lifestyle choice. But this was years ago. Clearly the army was not a phase.

Over the past few years, I have read a lot about the US involvement in Afghanistan, and talked to countless reporters and policy wonks about it. Definitely a lot of that was for work. But it was also in some ways because of him. I was both terrified for him and grateful to him - that this awesome guy I remember from college was one of the people in Afghanistan. He was not fucking that country up. He was making it better. I know that sounds super naive too. But he was a good, reasonable guy. Even when he sometimes made crazy arguments when we talked politics, I thought he was a reasonable guy. He always thought about things. He rarely just reacted.

I'll never understand why he joined the army. But the army must have done something for him. It must have been good for him. And for that, I'm glad. I want to believe in what he was doing because he clearly believed in it. But I'm awfully angry that he's gone. I'm so pissed I never got to send him those stupid cookies. I'm so pissed I won't ever get to try and make him laugh again. I just feel really heavy and foggy. But I am also really happy I got to know him at all. He was funny and weird and a good person to argue with. And I missed him before and I miss him now.

Fallen GI loved life in military

Soldier from Highland killed by blast in Afghanistan

Officially Weddinged

2008-10-01T16:03:00.001-07:00

Here's one of the many pictures our amazing friend / photographer Michael took the day of the wedding. It all turned out to be really, really fun...more fun and way less stress than I'd expected. The ceremony felt exactly right (not too fussy, really authentic, and short!). My Aunt Lois called to tell me my Grandma Yandel keeps talking about how much fun she had, which was HUGE for me. I was so nervous that traveling to central IL from Chicago and being carried up and down stairs in her wheelchair would just be too much for her, and she wouldn't enjoy herself. I loved the whole thing. I only wish time travel had been invented so Post Wedding Jeannie could have visited Pre Wedding Jeannie to tell her to calm the eff down because everything was going to be awesome.

The Chicago party was also fantastic - I kind of don't have words to describe how truly touching and excellent it was to have so many people from so many parts of our lives come together on Saturday night. Everywhere I turned, there was someone I wanted to hug and talk to. And I could look across the room and see Aa doing the same thing - hugging people, laughing, catching up. Friends from Seattle made a point of meeting my family, which I particularly loved. Paul and Liz brought amazing cookies that basically fueled me the whole night. I know both my sister and my Uncle Terry took a bunch of cookies home. I think Amanda (the amazing, generous friend who made my wedding dress) did too.

Aa and I decided to get weddinged in the first place so we could see and spend time with the people we love. It's why we chose to have the wedding and party in Illinois. And looking around on Thursday night after the wedding and Saturday night mid-party, I realized we got exactly what we wanted. We spent days surrounded by people we love and don't ever get to spend enough time with - that definitely includes our Seattle friends. Everything was perfect. I've never felt so lucky in my life.

Vote for Jeannie!

2008-09-19T10:26:00.000-07:00

Jeannie is in the running for the King5 best local radio personality...make the dream a reality!

go here to vote:
http://best.king5.com/contests/best-of-western-washington/2336/people/local-radio-personality

she did not ask me to post this...but how could i not?!

*Update from Jeannie: No, I did not ask him to post this. Weird.

DFW

2008-09-17T11:15:00.000-07:00

yet another David Foster Wallace post...

In the late 90's I took one class with him at ISU. I talked my way into the class as i already had my undergrad and was spending a year taking only classes that i was really interested in...and he was teaching a class on the postmodern novel...he was kind enough to listen to my appeal and let me into a grad level english class that i had no business being in at that time.

But what a class! We read gaddis, delillo, cormac mccarthy, etc. To be honest, i just couldn't read through all of the gaddis, i love the delillo stuff, and mccarthy was kinda depressing. But that said, it was the most engaging class! The discussions transcended the conventional borders of any English classes i had previously experienced. Deep discussions that circled in and around math, science, history, rhetoric, and more. Truly educational.

On my final paper he drew the "style faerie"....and throughout my paper the "SF" pointed out every stupid grammatical mistake that i made...and believe me..i made a LOT of them.

I dug that paper up last night to read his comments...I can't believe that i handed in something as poorly written as i did to someone like him..someone that was that good at what they did. Someone that insightful. Someone in such deep and fantastic control of language and ideas. In the end i did fine on the paper and the class but i always felt bad about not proofing that paper. It was disrespectful to his craft.

P.S. He was also the first person i'd ever seen chew tobacco.

Well, that went well.

2008-09-15T15:45:00.000-07:00

I just had a cup of coffee. I had to. I hated everybody. Now I love everyone again.

In response to the vampire anxiety dream

2008-09-15T14:28:00.000-07:00

I'm gonna try to go off coffee till after the wedding. Nothing but tea for princess here. Today is Day 1, and I'm exactly as grumpy as you'd expect. I'm taking it one day at a time - we'll see how long I last.

Anxiety Dreams

2008-09-14T23:10:00.000-07:00

Last night I had my first anxiety dream about the wedding. I don't remember much about the beginning of the dream except for an overall sense of nervousness. I was with a large group of people. We were all on the roof of a hotel, having a party that I know had to do with the wedding. Then the vampires showed up. They were dressed like gothy pirates (thank you, Anne Rice / Milli Vanilli!) And they started eating my guests. Very awkward. Now, I've chronicled my obsession w/ Buffy the Vampire Slayer here before. I know how to handle vampires. So I grabbed what I thought was a wooden stake and drove it into Vanilli's heart. Guess what? The stake wasn't wooden. It was plastic with some kind of veneer. So I headed out to the hallways of the hotel. Suddenly my sister appeared and we started dismantling / unscrewing furniture for wood. (I actually remember unscrewing a chair leg and throwing a washer over my shoulder thinking, "that won't help me kill vampires".) Then we headed back in to the party. I started stabbing vampires in the chest with my wooden stakes, many of which had long metal screws on top from being chair legs. This meant I had to drive the stakes even *further* into the hearts of the gothy pirate vampires. It was not going well. I was really just angering the vampires. It was quickly turning into an awful party.

Then I woke up, and my first thought upon waking was, "why the hell weren't those wooden stakes working?" I felt anxious. That feeling of anxiety stayed with me most of the day. In fact Aa even noticed it and asked me what I was so tense about. I couldn't really tell him it was the vampires. I'd sound crazy, right? So instead, I'm writing this post for you, Interwebs.

Now I feel better.

Neighborhood! Coffee! Shop! Or, The Minutiae Of A Totally First-World Problem

2008-09-12T08:55:00.000-07:00

So, Aa and I looooove the Minty and we really like living so close to downtown Ballard. But one of the things we've desperately missed is a neighborhood coffee shop. See, in our last apartment we lived right across the street from this miraculous place called Lighthouse Coffee. It's a great coffee shop, sure, but the place also roasts their own beans. RIGHT. IN. THE. STORE. OK? So my neighborhood smelled like fresh-roasted coffee, and the espresso is holy shit delicious, arguably the best in Seattle. (yes, yes, I know: Vivace. Unclench. I said "arguably", alright?)

Anyway. So, upon moving away from the warm embrace of Lighthouse, Aa and I have longed for a right-down-the-street place to get a good Americano. On weekends, we'll take the Zacker and walk up to Bambino, which I will always heart because they allow dogs inside and have dog treats available. This is niiiiice, but it's not a weekday kind of niiiiice.

So it's been with much anticipation that Aa and I have watched the transformation of a little storefront less than a block from our house. I even changed my walking-home-from-the-bus route so I could stop and peer inside to gauge progress. We heard many rumors about the place, including, at one point, that it would serve waffles. Which, you know, OK. But I could never get the answer to the important question: WOULD THEY SERVE GOOD COFFEE, meaning WOULD THEY HAVE A DECENT ESPRESSO MACHINE AND COULD THEIR BARISTAS PULL A DECENT SHOT? (I cringe as I type this, I want you to know. I am aware that I sound like a supreme asshole, and the cap letters don't help. But I'm not gonna lie - this shit is important.)

Yesterday, when I got off the bus, I noticed the little mystery cafe had an open door and, more importantly, an 'OPEN' sign. And, perhaps most importantly, they had an espresso machine and were giving away free coffee. I went in, chatted up the barista, and she kindly made me a decaf Americano. As I drank it, a term from a sport I do not watch at all popped into my head.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was a gooooooood Americano. Praise Jeebus, it was a really good Americano.

It is with much happiness that Aa and I welcome the Sun Cafe into our neighborhood!! And, might I add, it's about gee dee time. I fear once Veraci finally opens across the street from the Sun, I might just explode with joy. I'm not into the dumb, ugly "townhomes" being built pretty much right in my backyard (at 7:30 on a Saturday morning, thanks douchebags). But I am so into these two new lil' businesses parking right down the street from me. This is development I am 100000% behind. Yes, that's right, five whole zeroes. That's how much I'm behind it.

Reason 5,973 Why I'm Lucky

2008-09-09T19:11:00.000-07:00

I have ridiculously awesome friends. This past weekend, my friends Liz, Renee, Laurie, and Wendy organized a weekend away at Renee and Laurie's in-laws' family cabin on Vashon Island. I got picked up by Liz on Friday afternoon and then whisked away to a place where I didn't have to do or plan anything, except whether I wanted another glass of wine. Or some more cookies. For the record, I wanted both.

We also got to bring dogs, so the Zacker came with me and Wendy brought her guy Jackson.He's waiting and waiting and waiting for someone to throw something in the water so he can fetch it. Swear to God, Wendy threw rocks for him to fetch out of the water on Saturday afternoon - and he stuck his head underwater and fetched them.

Zack spent a lot of his time on the island either lying in the sun, as usual, or sitting on my lap. Here we are hanging out around the bonfire Saturday night, working on our Myspace profile picture.

And here is a weird grassy path-y place Liz, Zack and I stumbled on during one of our long walks. I am 85% certain there is some sort of religious cult living there.

Saturday night, special guest stars Rebecca and Patricia dropped by to have dinner. Look at how excited Rebecca is! Or perhaps she's saying, "We gotta get the fuck off this island! Now!"

Transit Stories, Parts 1 & 2

2008-09-03T11:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning, I ran to the bus stop because I saw my bus sitting at the intersection. Once I got to the stop, I realized that bus wasn't going anywhere -- all the lights were off save the hazards, and there were reflective-vest wearing techs standing around nearby. So I got my magazine out to wait. That's when I heard this terrible coughing, retching sound from behind the bus shelter. I turned around and saw someone bent over, coughing away. He came out from behind the shelter - he was a youngish looking guy in a baseball cap and sweats. I felt bad for him. I walked over to the bus schedule to see what time the next bus was. Baseball Cap said "I think we just missed our bus. I got off the 28 a minute ago to connect, but there wasn't anyone else at the stop." I replied that maybe the stalled bus was the one we wanted, and we'd be waiting for a while. Then I walked a few paces to get back into my magazine.

That's when I heard a just totally hair-raisingly nasty retching / belching sound coming from Baseball Cap's direction. Then the smell hit me. Then he retched and belched again. I walked towards the garbage can to throw something away, only to realize Baseball Cap puked all over it. I turned around to see where he was and realized he puked all over the bus schedule and bus stop signpost, too. He must've done that right after we chatted about "our" bus. At this point, three people came to the stop, saw / heard / smelled Baseball Cap getting sick, started mumbling, and quickly walked away.

That's when Weepy Drunk Lady appeared. She came out of the gas station near the bus stop, talking about the lateness of the bus. Then, she headed towards me and started crying. She brushed right past me, crying and talking to herself. Baseball Cap belched behind me and something wet hit the ground. Two more people who'd come to the bus stop looked at each other, shook their heads, and walked away.

At this point, I did something I've never done in my whole transit-riding life. I called Aa and asked for a ride to work. As I did this, Weepy Drunk Lady suddenly stopped crying. She looked at me on my phone and her eyes narrowed. "What?! You're gonna be late for work?! You ignore a homeless person?! You're calling your boss?! With your fancy backpack?!" I wasn't worried about being late for work, I wasn't calling my boss, and my backpack is old, ratty, and thoroughly un-fancy. But she was right about one thing. I was trying very hard to ignore her, as well as Baseball Cap, who must've just been puking up bile or dry heaving at that point. Aa agreed to give me a lift, and I headed home. Weepy Drunk Lady followed me for about 100 feet, yelling questions at me the whole time. I didn't answer any of them.

This morning, I again saw the bus waiting to cross the intersection to my stop. This time, the bus was running and all the lights were on. I again ran to the stop and got on. As I headed back to find a seat, I heard "This song was way ahead of its time! It's really trance-y!" I turned to see who was talking - nobody talks on the AM buses here. A middle-aged man, developmentally disabled, was listening to an iPod through headphones. He had a huge grin on his face. "This song was groundbreaking! Yeah! Hey, that house is boarded up!" He looked up at me and grinned even wider. I grinned right back.

From the sleep suites at Virginia Mason

2008-08-30T10:16:00.000-07:00

I'm in the middle of a sleep study here at Virginia Mason Hospital in Seattle. Last night after check-in, I was wired up, had a bunch of wires attached to my head with goo, and am currently waiting for my second "nap" of the day (they have you lie down and try to sleep every 2 hrs for 15-20 minutes. Then, just when you are about to drift off, they wake you up! It's vicious).

I'm not allowed any caffeine during the study, which means I am currently right at the beginning of a truly awesome headache. Also I can only lay down and close my eyes when they tell me to. Which is weird and annoying. But the nice things are - I have Internet access (obviously), a decent view of downtown, and an excuse to stay in my PJ's all day. And I have all of Season 5 of the Wire with me, since I can watch DVDs here on my nice big flat screen teevee. In a few hours, someone will bring me lunch. The food is eh, of course. It's weird how spoiled I've become in regards to food. Someone brings me a Yoplait yogurt and I am disappointed because I know there's way better stuff out there -stuff without 85 bajillion sweeteners. Anyway.

OK, time for my second "nap". I'm gonna be grumpy by the end of today! Man oh man.

2 generations after Paul Starkey

2008-08-26T20:35:00.001-07:00

2 generations after Paul Starkey
Originally uploaded by defconhouse2

Aa had me take this to replicate a picture of his grandpa, Paul, canoeing with his sweetheart (and Aa's grandma) Peggy. I don't think we're quite as glamorous as they were. But I don't think they had single-region, shade-grown, fair trade coffee that morning with breakfast either. So, you know, tradeoffs.

not quite Peggy Starkey

2008-08-26T20:33:00.001-07:00

not quite Peggy Starkey
Originally uploaded by defconhouse2

Aa took this photo to replicate the shots his grandparents took of each other more than 60 years ago. I don't quite think I match the utter gorgeousness of Peggy Starkey in that photo.

Also - dear GOD! My legs are like vampire pale. Dang.

Just pointing something out

2008-08-26T14:04:00.000-07:00

Gregory Hines is wearing a cut-off Walter Payton Chicago Bears home jersey in the video for the Running Scared song. That is all.

The sun is hiding outside Ellensburg, WA

2008-08-25T14:55:00.000-07:00

Above's a picture of the place we went camping / rafting this weekend. It was excellent - dry, sunny, hot. Even aside from the weird redneck guys who were camping nearby and liked to yell "woooo!" late into the night.

I have a bit of a sunburn on my back. I had to wear sunglasses all day Saturday. That was when I sat in an innertube and was pulled along the cold, clear river by 6 rafts tied together. Including a raft in the middle that had nothing but beer-filled coolers. And a large plastic bag with a spout that contained something called a wine-a-rita.

More pictures and stuff later. But right now I just want to tell you, if you're wondering what it's like to drive from late August sun and heat to early November rain and cold in like three hours, it's kind of neat. But it's real crappy if you're leaving August for November. Arrange to travel the other way as often as possible. That's my suggestion.

the cure, while lion, nostalgia, and getting older

2008-08-25T14:49:00.000-07:00

so here i am at my fav coffee shop in ballard getting ready to do some work...and the 19ish year old barista plays the Cure's "Staring at the Sea" on the coffee shop stereo.

"COOL! I love this record!", i think to myself.

Then, the realization that i was also listening to this record in high school...probably before this kid was born, sets in:

"DAMN! i'm old!"

But, upon further (and immediate) reflection i realize..."well, at least the music that has become popular again is music that i like...i had great taste back then..therefore, i have great tastes now. the nineteen year old and I have something in common."

Then again, i did go see White Lion in high school...so, if history had played out differently, he could have played While Lion instead and i truly would have had something to despair about this afternoon...

raft

2008-08-15T14:31:00.000-07:00

Excursion 5 Boat Set for up to 5 people includes boat, pump and oars. Made from SUPER-TOUGH vinyl construction for durability. Inflatable seats and floor for comfort. US Coast Guard approved.

i bought a raft today. long story.
well, okay, short story: The J and I are going with our friends to a float/raft thingie next weekend. We'll tie our boats together, drink beer, and float down a river in eastern washington, camp, then float some more the next day...

somtimes, chicago seems a life time away...

To Emphasize What We All Already Know, Scientology Is Effed Up.

2008-08-12T15:37:00.000-07:00

I look forward to the PR campaign the Church of Scientolog y will wage against me for even typing the title to this post.

"...Hubbard was quoted (apparently from a lecture given in the 1950s) describing how, after death, a thetan is carried to a "landing station" on Venus, where it is "programmed with lies," put in a capsule, and then "dumped" back on Earth, where it wanders in search of a baby to inhabit."

The Weekend, In Bullet Points

2008-08-11T16:24:00.000-07:00

Friday night: The thinky/confusing but awesome but with terrible audio Chimes at Midnight with Matt and Aa. Then dinner at Quinn's, which included fish and chips that should've been better considering what we paid for them.
Saturday morning: AGTV workshop / coffee with the excellent Sean O'Connor.
Saturday afternoon: KEXP barbecue with Aa. Was pleasantly surprised to run into nice people, including Charlie, Martin, and Andreas. Always happy to see Cheryl. Then, upon leaving, a personal victory! I drove the stick shift Death Star GTI home and only killed it twice. HAW!
Saturday late afternoon: cookie-making frenzy for Jon and Renee's wedding party / potluck deal. 5 second walk with Zack, who refused to step on the damp grass and would only pee after I took him into the middle of the street.
Saturday evening: Jon and Renee's wedding party! Super fun. Lots of food, lots more of alcohol. Aa showed up a couple of hours after me, as he was still at the KEXP barbecue.
Here are some of the text messages I got from Aa, helping me chart his progress both in getting to the party and level of sobriety:

8:19 pm Where e u?
8:23 pm I am drunk. Where r u?
8:27 pm Comibgm. To dunk to ype.
9:09 pm Yeds.
9:26 pm I am herem where ru??

Sunday morning / afternoon: hangover-curing brunch at Senor Moose. Tipped less than 20% for the first time in years because of the profoundly bad, rude service we got. Felt guilty for hours afterward.
Late Sunday afternoon: long walk with the Zacker. Nap on couch. Long phone chat with Hans, our one friend who actually did flee the US for Canada. He explained the difference between armageddon and apocalypse*.
Sunday night: Laundry, cleaning, rewarded with pizza and movie (The Great Escape, which is really boring. And the weird happy soundtrack music that constantly loops through the film makes you think you're watching a feel-good comedy instead of a WAR MOVIE ABOUT POWS TRYING TO ESCAPE A NAZI PRISON.) Then, bedtime. Snuggles with the Zacker, good book, sleep.

*armageddon = destruction of everything caused by humans. apocalypse = destruction of everything outside of human control. So, full-on nuclear war is armageddon. The sun exploding and eating the planet is an apocalypse. Or...hmm...perhaps it's the opposite. I actually don't remember which is which.

Illinois State Fair...

2008-08-07T10:24:00.000-07:00

i am from Springfield, Illinois. That should come as no surprise to most of our loyal readers. Growing up in Springfield, the end of summer was always punctuated by a crazy hot week that brought together the classic midwest triplet of bad food, bad music, and drunk central Illinois natives: the Illinois State Fair.

I could attempt to write an insightful essay on this event..but I won't. David F. Wallace did that 10 years ago in his book of essays, "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again"...it's really funny and pretty accurate.

So, when I read the State Journal Register this morning and saw the grandstand lineup...i shed a tear...

Fergie gets it started on Friday, “Weird Al” Yankovic will wield his mighty accordion on Saturday and Huey Lewis and the News (with Joan Jett and the Blackhearts opening) rounds out the weekend lineup on Sunday.

how can you beat that?

i don't think you can.

**although, really, Joan Jett should be headlining...not Huey..she ROCKS.

Paul and Peggy Starkey

2008-08-03T19:09:00.000-07:00

This is my grandfather and grandmother from way back when. circa 1944 is my best guess...roughly a year after they were married.

I love that they handed the camera back and forth to each other to get these shots. I have no idea where they were, but clearly, Paul and Peggy were having one helluva a great day.

I do not have a mullet...regardless of what J. says...

2008-08-03T18:29:00.000-07:00

Got out the ol' scanner today because it dawned on me that i had only one copy of the following picture...and by golly, it should be digital. long live 1989. this was taken the same day as my senior portrait. i figured that if i had to pay, out of my own pocket, for a portrait of myself in a suit from TJMaxx then by golly I was also going to get a picture taken with all of my favorite things!

Favorite things I still have: the led zeppelin II t-shirt, the white gibson guitar, and my father's watch. I would gladly trade the t-shirt for the el camino though.

Momentary dork out

2008-08-01T14:07:00.000-07:00

AWESOME. Cannot wait for this movie. Double plus kick ass.

You're mumble magic, you're right where I wanna be

2008-07-29T14:57:00.000-07:00

So one of the Great Films Of My Childhood is the Billy Crystal-Gregory Hines-Jimmy Smits opus Running Scared. My sister and I watched this movie so many times we pretty much had it memorized. In fact one of the high points of my recent trip home was walking into my parents' house and hearing my sister yell, "Jeannie! We're upstairs watching Running Scared!"

Last night I got home from a meeting and Aa was perched on our sweet new sectional. He'd been to the video store. And, after hearing me talk about both Running Scared and the big hit song from Running Scared for years, he rented the DVD. I was happy. We settled in to watch it.

I will not defend this movie at all. Jimmy Smits' character is a total stereotype ("Eyen gonna be the first Hispanic godfather of Chee-cah-go", Jimmy says at one point). It is just weird upon weird that the two vigorously heterosexual characters played by Crystal and Hines want nothing more than to open a bar in Key West, where they can go back to roller-skating in little shorts and T-shirts tied at the hip (for real).

But there is the very special companion piece to this movie - the video for that big hit song I mentioned earlier. (use the link, I can't embed it here, which is stupid.) Did I forget to say that song is by Michael McDonald? And that I actually saw him perform it live when he opened for Steely Dan a few years ago? And that I was the only person there who appeared excited about the performance of said song? And Aa and our friend Mike didn't get why I was so excited? But then later when I told my sister I saw Michael McDonald open for Steely Dan, her first question was "Oh my God! Did he play that Running Scared song?!"

BEHOOOOOLD!

2008-07-28T22:11:00.000-07:00

After years of complaints and frustration that our little blue couch just wasn't comfortable enough for the two of us, we finally did something about it. Craigslist offered up, and we grabbed, this killer sectional - cheap, comfy, and cuuuuute.

Last night, we both lay down on opposite ends of our sweet new sectional and watched a movie. It was The Sting. We both fell asleep before the end of the movie. It was awesome.

Cake Wrecks

2008-07-25T12:05:00.000-07:00

My new most favorite thing. Particularly because of this.
Or, maybe this.
or, for the love of God, this!

Hey! Want To Know More About Shingles?

2008-07-23T16:25:00.001-07:00

I do right now, obviously. Perhaps you do too! Dr. Sanjay Gupta to the rescue.

Standout line for me: "In most cases, the shingles rash and blisters go away in a few weeks or months, but in some cases the pain can last for years." Hey, great!

Cumpleanos Amigos!

2008-07-22T11:17:00.000-07:00

So last night, while waiting for a seat at Senor Moose, Aa turned to me and said, "I never got a cake for my birthday. This is the first year I haven't gotten a cake for my birthday in a long time." We then had a discussion about the challenges of celebrating Aa's birthday. (background: in the past, I have thrown / co-thrown him two surprise parties because I thought he was passively hinting he wanted people to acknowledge his birthday, but he didn't want to be the one to organize or remind anyone. I was very, very wrong in my analysis of his desires in those situations. I'd learned to never, ever again throw him a surprise party. The only exception is if he dies before me and I have to make funeral arrangements.)

After a few minutes, we got a couple of sweet counter spots. We both noticed a really yummy piece of half-eaten tres leches cake sitting on the counter. And we actually both went, "hmmmm" and looked at each other. Aa then said, "DO NOT tell them it is my birthday".

Then we started ordering food. And, holy cow, the food. The eating and the eating and the more eating. During one break in the eating, I turned to Aa and asked, "Hey, do you know what cumpleanos means?" He said, "Yeah, it means friends. I remember we would sing a song in Spanish class, like Bienvenidos cumpleanos or something. It was a song about friends." I grinned at him and went back to my eating. A plan began to form in my head. I could lean over to one of the cooks or the waiters and tell them, in Spanish, that it was Aaron's birthday and we needed a little of that awesome-looking tres leches cake to celebrate. Very exciting.

Unfortunately, all that eating we did led to a final bloated check-in. Aa couldn't handle more food. Neither could I. So my super-slick plan would go unrealized. We left the gustatory wonderland of Senor Moose and started waddling home. As we waddled, I decided to share my thwarted plan with Aa. I explained that cumpleanos actually means birthday. He was annoyed at first, until he realized the song he used to sing in class was actually "Happy Birthday". At that point he started berating his own inability to speak any Spanish. We wound up laughing about the whole thing. But I've been thinking about this today. Apparently, I haven't learned my lesson. I still want to surprise/embarrass Aa. I wonder why that is.

PS - I know I need a tilde above the n's in cumpleanos and senor, and the upside down excalamation point. But I don't know how to make them happen. So, blah.

Because you don't have enough crap bookmarked yet

2008-07-18T09:46:00.000-07:00

Well, whatever. You don't! Because you don't yet have my sister's blog about her impending parenthood bookmarked. Seriously. You may be thinking this blog is only something that's of interest to me, as I will be Aunted with the birth of this Superbaby. Well, you're WRONG! This blog is of interest to everyone. EVERYONE. Mainly because my sister is the funniest person in the Midwest, if not the whole country.

Very Special Announcement!

2008-07-16T19:58:00.000-07:00

It's Aaron's birthday today!!!

He's currently out eating way too much grilled meat at Korean BBQ. Yay! Happy birthday babe.

Getting Married When You're Already Married

2008-07-16T15:00:00.000-07:00

My Salon Of Shame co-conspirator Ariel wrote about Aaron and me and our getting weddinged plans on Offbeat Bride. I love the comments - it was really nice to see we aren't the only people to have gotten hitched for insurance! Also, it's fun to see a phrase my awesome co-worker Jenny made up get some love.

Wherein I complain at length about my health

2008-07-14T11:18:00.000-07:00

So, three or four years ago, I was diagnosed with gout. Yeah, that weird inflammatory condition you get if you're a 50-year old man who eats too many cream sauces and drinks too much beer. At 29, about a month after having run a half-marathon, a doctor looked me in the face and said I had gout. Turns out he mis-diagnosed me, but not after I took a regimen of pills that knocked me out for 3-4 hours each time I took one. But even after all that, I was profoundly relieved to find I'd been mis-diagnosed. How could I have gout?

Sunday, I found myself in urgent care near my parents' house because I was getting freaked out by what I thought was a spider bite. Except within four days, it had spread so it looked like a spider walked across my belly to my back, taking bites as he walked. Bites that were getting kind of...hurty. I was going to be in Chicago for two more days and it was clear my strategy of lifting my shirt and asking my sister, "hey, does this look like a bug bite to you?" wasn't helping. Turns out, I have shingles. Yep, shingles. The emergency room doc said that they're seeing cases in a lot more people these days. But I still had - and am still having - kind of the same reaction I had to the gout diagnosis. How could I get shingles? Who the hell gets shingles?

Turns out, pretty much anybody can get shingles. It just happens, it's the chicken pox virus, pretty much anyone can get it, blah blah blah. Basically the viral version of crappy luck. But still. That didn't make me feel any less weird when I had to call friends to cancel plans because of my shingles. And it's not gonna help when I have to go to work tomorrow to explain why I'm leaving early after being gone for four days (follow-up doctor's appointment! For the shingles!). Oh, right, and two weeks ago I was knocked flat with a respiratory infection and missed a full week of work then too. But now? I have shingles, so I'm gonna be MIA for a little bit again. Hey, sorry about that.

In a few months I'll think it's totally funny that I had shingles. But right now? It's uncomfortable and frustrating and I just can't find the funny in it.

Gifts from the Interweb

2008-07-08T16:48:00.000-07:00

Mystery of the Meat-Eaters' Molecule (thanks, Nick!)

The Rocka-Fire Explosion covers Usher's Love In This Club (you will probably only like this if you ever went to Showbiz Pizza as a kid). I recommend watching the whole 4 minutes and 31 seconds. Really, really.

Hi, Normal Life!

2008-07-07T11:01:00.001-07:00

AND! By the way! I feel better. Still coughing, still sounding funny...but I'm finally back at work. Yesterday I did a super-slow run. I've been tasting food (and eating! MEALS!) since Friday evening*. It's very, very exciting.

*I am shopping a new diet book pitch because of this - "The Upper Respiratory Infection Diet: Lose A Pound A Day!"

One of the most fun interviews I ever did

2008-07-06T21:35:00.000-07:00

Photo Credit Alan Berner / The Seattle Times

That picture above is of Pierre Sundborg. He's a retired engineer here in Seattle who, a few years ago, decided to ride every Metro bus line in numerical order end-to-end. Seriously.

Last week, the Seattle Times wrote a really sweet piece about him. I just read it, and I sat here grinning like a dork the whole time. I could hear Pierre telling stories and laughing while I read the article. He actually called me a couple of weeks ago to tell me the article was coming out. I asked him if he was looking forward to it, and he laughed and said "This is your fault! I don't know whether to thank you or blame you."

Pierre is one of the people I feel ridiculously lucky to have met. My job isn't always sunshine and roses, but getting to talk to somebody like him is about the greatest thing ever. And I love that someone else asked about his story. I'm happy to get blamed for that.

My interview with Pierre (about 13 minutes in)

Going Crazy

2008-07-03T14:40:00.001-07:00

So I've had this insane respiratory infection thingie that has knocked me flat since Monday. Monday, people! I have a killer sore throat - it actually feels like there's a nasty plug of some kind in there which makes swallowing and talking difficult. My voice sounds awful and hoarse (which, yes, thanks for asking, makes my job where I talk on the radio for a living kind of tough to do). I've been bored enough to clean out our closet, clean out old clothes in my dresser, wash every dirty piece of fabric in the house, change (and then change back) the design of our getting weddinged site, and make carrot salad and baked tofu for me to snack on when I actually feel hungry (not often right now). I also tried to work from home yesterday - but much of my job consists of talking to people on the phone and I am having a tough time doing that.

I know I'm supposed to be resting and all, but I can't seem to settle down long enough to actually do it. I feel like I should be doing something. How do you get yourself to settle down when you can't seem to? How do you force yourself to rest? I can't figure it out, and telling myself it's the only way I'll get better ain't working.

tour ended...

2008-07-01T16:27:00.000-07:00

i could try and write a post about tour...but ryan wrote the best one. i couldn't have said it better.
read it: http://ryanschierling.blogspot.com/2008/06/end-of-tour.html

tour part 2

2008-06-28T13:10:00.000-07:00

played kirby's last night. always a good time, even when you think that it is going to be that ONE time when the place does not deliver. in the end, it is about the people...which leads into something i have been thinking about on this tour..the people. at the end of the day, we are doing what we are doing so that we can connect ourselves to other people through the performance of music. when there are no people..which has only happened once or twice in the last 6 years it can be, obviously, very hard to deal with. but those nights where there are only 4 or 5 people in in bozeman on a monday night...well...sometimes those are the best shows. that is a common cliche of course..but when you have been gone from home for weeks...having some sort of connection and appreciation for what you are trying to do feels really good.

and then there is the food. i wont complain about it. we all know what diner food is like. all i will say is that i am going to be eating food made on my stove in my kitchen for the next two weeks. and i am very grateful for the cleanliness of my bathroom.

Sniffle

2008-06-27T22:30:00.000-07:00

If had been a long week of work eating my life. I needed some sunshine and a way to get my brain out of the office. So I ran home from work. About 8 blocks from home, I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and took a total header. I fell hard enough that my glasses flew off, and I kind of lay on the sidewalk for a minute waiting for the return of the wind I'd just knocked out of myself. Various parts of my body hurt, but I got up and finished my run. I stopped at the gas station by my house to get some antiseptic and beer (I kind of figured I earned the beer).

Then I got home and discovered we had no bandages. So I went back to the gas station. I scraped up my elbow and leg pretty good; none of the bandages were big enough. So I got a dusty old box of gauze wrapping and some dusty medical tape. Each time I went into the gas station, I stood in line and watched as the dude behind the counter made nice with every other lady who was in there. It was Friday night. All the girlies were dressed nice, smelling good, buying beer for their fun evenings out. But not me. I was sweaty and stinky and bloody, and the gas station dude never even made eye contact with me. Not once in either of the times I was in there.

Walking home, I realized you actually need gauze pads to go under the gauze wrapping to cover the wound. (Well, OK, I didn't realize it- that's what was written on the back of the box of gauze wrapping.) I didn't have any stupid gauze pads. But I didn't care. I'd already cleaned the dirt out of everything and used the antiseptic. So I just used toilet paper. Then I called Aa and left a truly pathetic message about how much I would have liked him to be home tonight. (It's tough to wrap gauze around your elbow with no help!) Then I burst into tears.

During my whole little saga, the Zacker was sitting and staring at me expectantly. So I got it together, changed my clothes, and took him for a walk. A block away from my house, some guy was working on his motorcycle. He was blaring music from his car radio. It took me a second to identify it. But then I did - it was"Shoplifters of the World Unite" by The Smiths. I started grinning, and as we walked by motorcycle guy, I thanked him for playing it. "I was in a real shitty mood until just a minute ago. But getting to hear this song just made me very happy", I said. He smiled and said "You bet. Just remember you'll never be as miserable as these fuckers". Which I think is the best thing I've heard all week. So, motorcycle-fixing Smith-listening neighbor man, again I say thank you for snapping me out of my fantastically crappy mood. And I suppose I should thank Morrissey, too, for always being a more miserable fucker than me.

UPDATE: Never use toilet paper on bloody scrapes instead of cotton or gauze. Seriously. Because the next morning you'll go to re-dress the scrapes and you'll find some of the TP has gotten so soaked it's basically become part of the wound! Then you have to pull the TP out. And yes, that does suck mightily. But still. Morrissey! More miserable! Hey!

tour

2008-06-26T15:24:00.001-07:00

i am on tour with the band and i am tired..but having fun. the heat and humidity of the midwest has been a welcome taste of home and a reminder of why the northwest can be so cozy sometimes. 90+ temp days take their toll.

that said, the shows have been great for the most part. we are playing better than we ever have...the songs are working well and the crowd response has been affirming. if you want to see pics...check out ryan's blog..the photographer who is traveling with us for the 2nd time around..he is a glutton for punishment...but we are very happy that he has joined us again.

Anyway...i could write so much more about the tour experience..and this is our sixth..but i don't really know what more i could say right now as i am so in the thick of being gone...and yet being at home every night on stage...that it is a confusing mess of emotions and thoughts and distances and people that i just would not be able to write anything that would have any degree of coherence.

more when i get back.

New Tricks

2008-06-23T09:29:00.001-07:00

I'd say it took me longer to really figure out how to drive than most people. After getting my drivers license, my first solo jaunt in a car (to drop off a video a mere 8 blocks from my house) led to me forgetting when I could turn left, getting beeped at, freaking out, turning into oncoming traffic, and then running over a bush on an island at a gas station to avoid hitting another car head-on. Hardly a success. Another time, on a post-college road trip to Graceland, I ignored the gas gauge while taking my turn driving. We wound up on back roads in the middle of Kentucky looking for someone who could help us either find a gas station or get extra gas. My friend Karen, who owned the car we drove, kept asking how I could forget about the gas gauge. I still don't have an answer for that question. I just did.

When I lived in Chicago, I never owned a car and was thrilled about it. I didn't need a car. I could walk or take transportation, or if absolutely necessary, get a cab with no problem. (I didn't like spending money on cabs unless I really needed to be somewhere.) I planned my routes so I could do everything I needed - shop for groceries mainly, but also take care of other necessary errands. Even when I was totally broke and jobless, I could still afford to take public transportation if I saved my change. My friends with cars always seemed to be in an endless war with the city - and the city was always winning. They needed to move their cars every 6 hours to avoid being towed. They would waste time circling around looking for places to park near the bars they frequented. They'd get tickets on a monthly basis. I never felt superior to friends who had cars - hell, they'd give me lifts places sometimes, and it was a fun treat - but I also knew I was just not cut out to be a car owner.

7 + years ago, Aa and I moved here to Seattle. And almost immediately, I got my first car. It actually belonged to Aa's grandparents - a red Geo Metro with about 19 miles on it. It was adorable, but it felt like driving a whiffle ball. I liked the car, but I hated all the obligation that came along with it. I sold that car because I found I hated car ownership. But a year later, I found myself so frustrated with Seattle's bus system, I bought another car - a 1991 Honda Accord. It was a good car, but I still hated everything that came along with ownership. It drove me nuts. Part of the problem was I couldn't let go of the anger I felt at Seattle. I'd moved to a city, goddammit. Why the hell did I need a car to get so many places? For the longest time, I thought of Seattle as an arrogant suburb rather than a city. To be honest, sometimes I still do.

But I digress. During the last 7ish years of my roller coaster relationship with cars, Aa happily drove around a little 1998 Volkswagen GTI. He bought it almost as soon as we got out here. He's done all kinds of things to the car that he says makes it "more responsive". As a passenger, I think he just made the car louder and bumpier. But the thing with the GTI is, it's a manual transmission. And, grandma that I am, I never learned to drive stick shift. Aa tried to teach me once. It didn't go well. So I've spent the last several years (! YEARS!!) simultaneously pledging to learn to drive stick and sort of putting it off. I like to think it's not entirely my fault. Most people will spend a Saturday afternoon in a parking lot with you and think you're ready to go. Uh, no. I am a student with special needs. This means that over the years I've had sporadic lessons, but was still terrified to take the GTI out on the street.

A couple of months ago, my friends Phyllis and Julian showed up on my doorstep. Phyllis had just gotten a car w/ a manual transmission. And Julian was committed to teaching me to drive stick that day. I was shocked. And freaked the fuck out. But I went with them and spent 3 hours in a parking lot. And then - glory of glories! - I drove Phyllis' car to the pet food store and home. It was THRILLING.

Since then, I have driven the GTI only very rarely. The car, in my mind, is still Aa's car. And he is into his car in a way most people I know are not into their cars. This is not to say he's like a meathead about it - he just likes his car and pays a lot of attention to it. So driving that car in a less-than-expert fashion kind of freaks my shit out.

Aa's on tour till early July. And this weekend, I found I had to drive the GTI. My palms were sweaty, I talked to myself a lot, and I killed the engine more than I care to admit. But by yesterday evening, I was able to go from a stop to first gear without killing the engine. I wasn't talking to myself as much. My palms were still sweating, but I was actually having fun.

I don't think I'll ever come to love driving. (Nor, honestly, will I ever forgive Seattle for forcing me to become more car-centric, but that's something else entirely) But this weekend, I leapt over some hurdle with driving and the GTI and a bunch of other stuff. It's exciting, and I'm really proud of myself. And I don't hate the act of driving nearly as much as I used to.

Do you live in the greater Chicagoland area?

2008-06-19T10:40:00.000-07:00

Pictures of Aaron and a pickle at The Bagel by the awesome Ryan Schierling, who is on tour w/ the band for the second sweaty Midwestern summer in a row.

If so, you should go to The Darkroom tonight and see Spanish for 100. (The Darkroom is a "new" bar. By that I mean it opened after I left Chicago in 2001.) The show starts around 9, and the guys are the only band playing tonight (??), which means you can roll in, see them kick some ass, and then hang out and have a decent conversation w/o worrying about when the next band will start, forcing you to yell. Also, buy a T-shirt! They're pretty cute. And, gas is expensive. Dang.

Sort of related: Tankboy, what's your deal w/ dudes in undies?

Bye Edith

2008-06-17T12:57:00.001-07:00

Edith Macefield died earlier this week. She was 86. Edith refused to sell her teeny Ballard house to developers back in 2001. So the developers have been building around her house. It's in many ways a real-life version of this Disney cartoon. Except Edith never got married or had kids. And the house can't blush, as far as I can tell. Or blink. Um, and it doesn't have a nose.

A Happyish Flood Story

2008-06-15T17:32:00.000-07:00

I got to talk to the Gregory family at Black Sheep Creamery in southwestwern Washington about how their farm and home were totally destroyed by floods in December. And then how, in 6 months, a volunteer effort that was nothing short of miraculous helped them get back on their feet again.

You can hear the story I did that aired yesterday on Weekend America here. (It's the first story.) You can hear a much longer interview I did with Brad Gregory here (about 13 minutes in). Lots more lambies making noise in that second one.

And, yes, I know, the guys at Weekend America spelled my last name wrong. I asked them to fix it. I'm sure they will soon.

And, no, I don't care that the only people who ever spell my last name right are relatives who have the same last name. I'm still not changing it when I get weddinged.

Why I'll be moving to Nebraska

2008-06-12T14:22:00.001-07:00

Or at least thinking pretty hard about it...because my most awesome sister lives there, see. And she's having a baby.

I am so excited I can barely stand it. I'm gonna be an aunt to the smartest, funniest, cutest kid ever. Seriously, there's no way this kid won't be President or something given who the parents are. All of that is totally objective assessment. Cold hard fact.

Thank you!

2008-06-04T17:33:00.000-07:00

Thanks to all of you for your nice notes and suggestions for chilling myself out when my brain starts to spiral into crazy. A lot of it has been really helpful. I'm feeling a lot less spazzy and freaked.

Also? I don't know how many times I have to re-learn this but exercise really, really helps (as mentioned by the brilliant ladies over at C and C's neighborhood). Hugging the Zacker works too. Although he can really only stand so much cuddling before he gets annoyed, unless he's the one to initiate.

K, so anyway, thank you all. You guys are pretty nice.

Baby Panic Attacks

2008-05-31T15:24:00.000-07:00

I've lately been having these mini panic attacks*. You know what I'm talking about? When you start thinking about something and then you just sort of keep spinning it around and around in your head until you find yourself unable to breathe, and unclear on your own reality? Aa's had this long-standing gift when it comes to talking me out of these episodes (as well as the big ones, where I wind up in a ball in tears in some corner of our house, but that hasn't happened for years thankfully). Lately my panic attacks have to do with: our house, the wedding planning, and the future in general. Then this gets all balled up and becomes "OHDEARGODITSALLSOBLEAKWEARE SOSCREWEDIDONTEVENKNOWWHATTODOORWHERETOGOWHEREISTHEDOGINEEDTOCRAWLINTOBED".

So, I have a question for you, dear readers (both of you). If you start feeling your mind spin out like I described, what do you to rein it back in and calm yourself down? Like I said, Aa is amazing at calming me down and bringing me back to reality. But he can't be around all the time, and it'd be cool if I could calm myself down too. Any tricks or tools you've developed would be great to know. Thanks!!

*And please, don't worry, I'm fine. Sometimes I just get worked up about stuff is all.

Futility

2008-05-26T19:04:00.000-07:00

Because neither Aa nor I really know the difference between weeds or flowers, our yard / garden care is either:

abject neglect, because we don't want to rip out any of the nice flowers the lady who owned this house for 30+ years planted and lovingly cultivated
violent, oafish, Vikings-razing-a-peaceful-village action wherein we rip, hack, yank, chop everything out of the ground.

We just Vikinged the hell out of our backyard for the last three hours. Since it is late May in Seattle, it should be completely overgrown again by Wednesday morning.

Gee, Anne.

2008-05-21T09:43:00.001-07:00

So I've noticed this thing lately. When people are looking at the printed version of my name (spelled Jeanne, which is my given name), they stop for a second. Then they uncertainly sound out
"Gee...Anne?" It's definitely a new facet of the precious gem that is how people mess up my name (listing the ways people mess up "Yandel" is a whole other post, if not a whole other blog entirely). For years people have seen my first name and pronounced it "Jean", which is - obviously - correct. If anything, it's been the i in "Jeannie", which is what I go by, that has caused pronunciation trouble in the past. People see that and almost always default to "Jeanine" (pron juhNEEN). I guess I can understand this new "Gee...Anne" phenomenon - I mean, my name is spelled just like Leanne, but still. It's weird. Who in the world is named Gee-Anne? I don't think the name even exists - at least, this ridiculous collection of bad baby names doesn't list it.

I don't know. It's just odd, and that's really all I have to say about it. Except that this morning one of the guys at my regular coffee place called out "Gee...Anne?" when my drink was ready. And I laughed without thinking and said "it's Jean! Jean! It's just the French spelling!" Which was probably kind of mean. Sorry, young coffee man.

**UPDATE! After I wrote this post, I remembered that my last name showed up as "Yanobel" on a race registration sheet this past weekend. This wouldn't have been so bad if the form I'd filled out hadn't been one of those with one square for each letter of your name. You know? And still, they get one letter wrong and then throw another one in there for the hell of it.

Also, that whole "facet of a precious gem that is how people mess up my name" bit, above? Good lord, is that some awkward writing. Bad Jenna.