Archive for Random Tuesday Thoughts
Random Tuesday Thoughts #10
Posted by: | CommentsHey ya’ll, it’s Tuesday which means it’s all random, all day. Want to play? Click over to the UnMom and sign up.
One. Percy Jackson.
Lauren spent half of the movie sitting in my lap, fingers in her ears because she was scared by the intensity of certain scenes. She hardly ever lets me cuddle her anymore. Even though my legs went numb, even though I couldn’t see much around her, those minutes holding her, my nose in her hair, were the best moments of my week. We get so busy and so distracted and so disconnected in our lives. I never forget that I love her, but that day, as Percy Jackson battled mythical creatures on the screen, I felt my love for her in every atom of my being.
Two. Toilet Paper.
Our ferret Teddy is a troublemaker. He steals my shoes and hides them all around the house–just tonight I found my black pump behind the dryer. He nips my ankles, “enticing” me to play. He digs in the cat dishes, scattering food across the kitchen floor. He rolls in his litterbox. He’s adorable. (Facetious? Yes and no.) The other night, I walked into the most darling of his tricks: He had stolen a 12-pack of toilet paper double rolls from the linen closet and tried to hide it under the bed. Keep in mind that this guy weighs 3 pounds and 12 rolls of toilet paper weighs at least that much. Can you imagine dragging something that weighs as much as you do and is 10 times your physical size across a room? And then? Imagine you shred it. SHRED it. Three rolls, down to the cardboard tube. And then, for good measure, drag the shredded bits all over the room. That’s my lovely Teddy Bear. Always a character.
Three. LOST.
I love this show, and this season is the best yet. However, it seems like this year there are more commercials than show. I know that the ad rates must be juicy-good for the network, but come on! More show, fewer things to skip on the DVR, please ABC.
Four. You lost me at Kate Gosselin.
Steve will jump for joy when he reads this: I will not be watching the next season of Dancing with the Stars. The producers have lost their minds–this cast is ridiculous. The Bachelor? Kate? Some ESPN babe who made a sex tape? How are these people stars? I’ve watched every season with love for the art of ballroom dance. But my love only extends so far. I wonder what else I can find to do with my Monday nights?
Five. Ring.
I have not been able to wear my wedding ring, and it’s bumming me and Steve out. I love my ring. It’s gorgeous and different and expensive. However, for the past two months it has given me a blistering rash that acts like an allergic reaction. I wear it until the pain is unbearable, then I take it off and let my skin heal. The owie peels away, leaving a bright red band just on the top of my finger. It seems bizzarre that I might be allergic to sapphires, but that’s the only explanation I can think of. If I were somehow allergic to gold, I should have a rash around the circumference. I have to visit the dermatologist this month for the first of my twice-annual skin checks, and hopefully he’ll have an answer.
Random Tuesday Thoughts
Posted by: | CommentsIt’s Tuesday, and here’s what I have been thinking about. Brain dumps are fun! So head over to The UnMom’s blog and read her weekly ramblings, and check out the other bloggers, like me, who follow in her footsteps.
One. Olympics.
I waited up last night to watch the Chinese pairs skaters but fell asleep about 3.2 seconds before the first couple started and woke up about 2.3 seconds after the second couple finished. Frustrating. Apparently, they came in 1st and 2nd. Hopefully, YouTube will have the performances up tonight. I was really looking forward to watching them. I wish I were an ice skater.
Two. Anxiety.
Does anyone here have a tip or two for dealing with anxiety? Usually, mine is tempered by depression but since I’m not feeling very depressed, all I get is this crazy gnawing in my stomach and the feeling that the world is about to crash in on me. It’s not so bad that I can’t function, but it’s bad enough to keep me from sleeping soundly. Any advice or information is welcome in the comments or by email to lynn (at) humanbeingblog [dot] com.
Three. Valentine’s Day.
Steve and I went to see the movie on Sunday, and I thought it was cute. Steve on the other hand saw Ashton Kutcher in the first scene and apparently hated the whole thing. I told him watching a true chick flick like Valentine’s Day–and in the theater no less — was a valiant act that I would remember for the rest of my life. I also repaid the favor with a blow job. Seemed fair. After all, it was a national holiday (and that’s the only time married men get that kind of thing from their wives, right girls?)
But can we please talk about the rudeness? (Not of the blow job, but of the people in the theater). We had never been to this theater before, which is located behind the Aurora Mall. I admit that I’m a snob, but these people were even rude to the rednecks sitting behind us. One couple brought a baby and didn’t leave when the baby started screaming. A couple to Steve’s left kept up running commentary throughout the movie. And the chick sitting next to me got a phone call AND ANSWERED IT at the movie’s climax. I was not very nice, and she eventually took her call out of the theater.
The tickets at this theater were only $6.50–full price. I guess you get what you pay for in terms of fellow patrons. We’d rather pay an extra $4 each for a touch of class from the rest of the audience.
Four. Oil Change.
Would someone please come pick up my car, take it to Grease Monkey for an oil change, then to the car wash? I’m about 300 miles beyond oil change time, and the inside of my car hasn’t been cleaned since fall. Help.
Five. Tattoo.
I keep dreaming that I’m in the tattoo artist’s chair getting a big spray of cherry blossoms across my shoulders and upper back. I don’t know if this means I want said tattoo (I kind of do) or if I am craving spring, or a trip to Washington DC or maybe to Japan. In my dream, the tattoo is beautiful and makes me feel safe. So maybe I’ll go get it.
Six. Weapon.
Steve wants us to buy handguns. I used to be very anti-gun. And then I shot one. Because of the upcoming Zombie Apocalypse (aka 12/21/12), we both think that it would be smart to at least be able to protect ourselves on the chance that all hell breaks loose.
On Sunday — because it is fun and somehow also romantic — we went to the Firing Line shooting range only to find that there was a 2-hour wait for a slot. We started browsing the gun store attached to the range, and soon I found myself comparing the weight and triggers and grips of various .357 revolvers like I knew what the hell I was doing. Funny that just two years ago I threw up when I fired a gun for the first time. Now, I’m kind of excited by the idea of owning one and coming to the range to practice.
The old dude behind the counter was a cautionary tale about how nutty gun people can be. You see, because he’s afraid of home invasion, he always wears an ankle holster with a .22 pistol and a belt holster with a .45 automatic pistol. In his living room. And in his car. He told us he’s both been shot and has shot another person. He pretty much freaked me out with his stories. I do not want to become that dude, who reminded me of my grandfather in his last year of life — delusional and paranoid. I have no intention of getting a conceal/carry permit. Or of ever shooting another person.
But I like shooting paper targets. That’s fun. And it will be a hell of a lot cheaper if we own our own weapons to practice with.
Seven. Groupon.
A few weeks ago I signed up for Groupon, which is a coupon service to promote local businesses. A business offers a deal–say 50% off flowers. You buy the coupon for $25 and get $50 worth of flowers. Sweet. I’ve now bought 3 of these: one for half-off Bovine Metropolis Theater, which we haven’t yet used. Another for half-off flowers,which I used to send my sister a bouquet.
Today, I bought a groupon for $100 of photo scanning services for $40. This deal is the answer to a Very Personal Ad I put out a few weeks ago. You see, our wedding photographer gave us the negatives and 3.5×5 prints and low-res scans of almost 400 photos. However, my intention is to make a Blurb.com book. I scanned in all the photos we wanted in the book but our scanner? Bleh. The photos are washed out and not high enough resolution to blow them up to a full-page, as I want several to be. So, no wedding album almost 5 months post-wedding.
My VPA was this: I want someone to scan all of my negatives for me so I can build my book with good quality photos. Today, the Groupon was in my inbox. The universe answered my ad! Now I just have to pick out the 150 or so negatives I want scanned for my book and take them in.
Groupon rocks. (http://www.groupon.com)
Random Tuesday Ramblings
Posted by: | Comments
It’s Tuesday, which means random ramblings. To read the random thoughts of others and see the master who created the blogging phenomenon, check out the Unmom.
One. Happy Birthday, dear blog, happy birthday to you.
For some reason, I had it in my head that human, being was born in early February 2009. Nope. Last night, I checked and she was born on Jan. 4, 2009.
I remember coming up with the idea of this blog while walking to my car after work. I had shut down another long-term blog and was writing notes on Facebook. I wanted a bigger audience, so I found Wordpress and started making a new blog.
I’ve always tended to write a rather open journal/life blog about the condition of being human. I had also just read something about the idea that we are spiritual beings having human experiences, and part of our struggle as humans is to be rather than do.
Since I’m on the path of learning how to just be, I thought I’d title the new blog human (comma) being. As in I’m a human working on being who I am. And that’s how the sausage was made.
I think it takes most bloggers a year or so to really figure out what their blog is about. This blog is about telling my story so that I can inspire, inform, amuse and entertain you. Some of what I write is a cautionary tale. Some of what I write is about getting the poison out of me so I can move on. Some of what I write is about gratitude. And most of it is probably TMI. Oh well. Hi, I’m Lynn, and I’m addicted to telling my story with very little filter.
I’m so grateful for every single person who reads human, being. I’m grateful for my handful of subscribers, and for the people who comment. I’m grateful for the people who send me emails. I’m even grateful for all the weirdos who find this blog by searching for naked kids (because my most successful post is about nudist camps for kids).
I love my blog. I don’t know what I’d do without it. I don’t know who I’d be without it, because it (and you) have become a key part of where I’m going and how I’m growing. Thank you.
Two. I’m being inundated by offers of retreats and classes and journeys.
Lately, I’ve unsubscribed to most of the mommybloggers I used to read because I’m not getting much out of them, and subscribed to a bunch of people who I think will help me along the new trajectory of growth I can feel myself beginning. The trick is that all of them offer retreats and coaching and eBooks and classes and interesting journeys. And, I want to do every single one of them.
Which is part of why I wrote the blog last night about what I need, right now. I feel overwhelmed by gurus.
I’d like to do some of this retreat work. I think it would be a) fun and b) forward-moving and c) inspiring. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like a retreat or class. But how to choose? And how to pay? Dilemmas. Universe? Any help here?
Three. Depression check-in.
I think the combination of counseling and homeopathy and Vitamin D and T3 has really helped my feelings of depression this season. The physical symptoms are still there–lack of motivation is strong, lack of focus is strong, sugar cravings are moderate. But the actual sadness and irritation and seething rage that usually make up the end of January and early February are just hovering along the edges.
What I have felt, though, is anxiety. Crushing, can’t leave the house anxiety. As I’ve felt this, I’ve come to realize that anxiety has always been part of my SAD picture. I didn’t recognize it before. I have no good tools for managing anxiety, separately from the depression, aside from valium, which I have taken to get out of the house on a couple of days. Last Thursday, when I couldn’t go to work, anxiety was my jailer. Yet another layer in the complicated physiology of Lynn to understand.
Four. Salsa partner search.
On Sunday, I went to a party at Motion en Fuego, Brigette Ellis’s studio, that was designated as a partner search. And, once again, I was disappointed. Male salsa dancers in Denver tend to get to the advanced beginner/early intermediate level and stall out. There were a lot of guys there, but only one was interested in performing and none were interested in competing.
So, since I’m working on listening to the universe (as always) and letting go of the HARD to make way for the EASY, I think I’m going to change my Very Personal Ad, which I posted on Havi Brooks’ The Fluent Self blog on Sunday. I do not want to find a salsa partner. I want a salsa partner to find me. I am taking the search off my plate, and asking the universe and all who are in it to bring me someone who wants to practice, perform and compete. (and so it is, amen)
Five. Car conversations.
For most of first and second grade, Lauren hated to talk to me about school. I’d ask her questions, and she’d get more and more obstinate, which led to me trying to force her to talk to me, which led to her literally pinching her lips shut and shaking her head with her fingers in her ears. Nice.
Something happened in third grade. Now, she volunteers information about what she’s learning as soon as she gets in the car. She’s very engaged while discussing what they’re learning about the Gold Rush, and this book called Shiloh she’s reading in her book club. She loves me to quiz her on her times tables and her spelling challenge words. And, she’s even volunteering information about her social life, which before seemed to be the greatest secret on earth.
When you have a baby, for the first many years you know almost everything that happens in her life. When I got divorced, I lost the experience of half of her life–the time she spends with her dad. The 8 o’clock phone call ritual rarely bears much more fruit than a quick goodnight. It’s both great and weird to be getting (finally) this glimpse into my daughter as a real person with real feelings and thoughts and fears and frustrations. Yes, she’s always had those, but at 8 and two-thirds she finally has the intellect and vocabulary to express all of it.
And I’m loving it. Especially the car conversations. They rock.
Six. Girl stuff.
Tomorrow I’m going to upload some old blogs about my struggles with the Fucking Mirena and the Aftermath, which is basically abnormal cycles to the max. I think, like my blog on Vitamin D (my second most popular blog), these tales can help other women who think they are losing their minds, as I did, but rather are just having bad side effects from progestin.
Dear body, please decide. Am I still fertile, or not? Because this 35 days of bleeding, followed by 40+ days (now) of not bleeding, with little hints that you might be letting it flow any day, then not, is on my last nerve.
Yes, 40 and a half is a little early for menopause. I tried progesterone cream and re-entered puberty. I tried Vitex and had cycles like I’m having now without taking anything. I’m grateful that I’m not having hot flashes or night sweats. I’d just really like some regularity, you know? So I know when to wear my $20 fancy panties and when to wear the $2 granny panties. Thanks for listening.
Random Tuesday Randomness #6
Posted by: | CommentsIt’s random Tuesday, ya’ll! If you want to play, please visit the Un-Mom’s site and put your name in the Mr. Linky.
One. Blackout curtains
Our bedroom has been so cozy and pitch dark since I moved the blackout curtains from hanging on the outside of our windowseat to covering the window itself that I have slept through my alarm twice now. This morning I opened them and watched the sun rise as I used my light box. Both made me feel better today.
Two. Christmas shopping
I’m just not into it this year. The kids both want expensive things. I had no idea that Littlest Pet Shops were so freaking expensive. Ryan as usual wants video games, which means he gets about 2 presents to open from us AND Santa. I’m at a loss for what to buy Steve or my family members this year. Is it cheesy to say screw it and buy nothing but gift cards? Does Santa give gift cards?
Three. Books
I’ve read two and a half really great books recently. The first is The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, which was full of gorgeous writing and storytelling. I want to write a book that pretty someday. The second is The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, which was entertaining and the first whodunit in years that caught me by surprise. The half is Gate at the Stairs, which I’m halfway through and loving. I’m partially loving it because the author, Lorrie Moore, signed it for me. I can hardly put it down. What in the world shall I read next?
Four. Winter
I know I’ve been a bummer lately. That’s winter for you. I’m feeling better today after three solid days of lightbox use. I didn’t realize how much it was helping me until I stopped. Kind of like Joan Rivers and botox.
Five. Boredom
Are you bored? I am. But also un-energetic. I want to go someplace new, have an adventure, take a risk. It’s been a long time. I keep finding myself in clothing stores, as if adding a new blouse will rip me from the clutches of monotony. But it doesn’t. It just adds another thing to the Goodwill pile next year or the year after.
Six. Values
I’ve been thinking about what I truly value, or as I should write Value with a capital V. Those are the things that should guide my life and my spending habits. And they are, in no particular order:
- learning/experiencing new things
- physical and mental well being
- creating things
- sharing what I know
- connecting with people
Nowhere in that list is “fashion” or “big house” or “television and internet staring” or “fancy car.” Yet these–not the things in my list–are the things I either tend to spend my money and time on or feel strong desire to spend my money and time on. Things that make you go hmmm. I think I need more than chiropractic to get myself back into alignment.
Happy Tuesday to all, and to all a good rest of the week.
Random Tuesday Thoughts
Posted by: | CommentsIt’s been a while since I’ve been random, so here we go. If you want to play the Random Tuesday Thoughts game, be sure to add your name to the Mr. Linky over on Keely’s blog. She’s the one who started it all.
One. Thank you.
Losing a pet you love–especially your favorite pet–in a word, SUCKS. Thank you for all of your kindness. It’s made us feel a little better.
Two. Ferret Heaven.
This morning, Lauren told me that she’s been dreaming of Pharley in Ferret Heaven. “He’s the calmest ferret there, and his best friend now is Dave, who looks just like him except he has pink eyes like Jack, which is one reason why Pharley likes him.”
She went on to describe the tunnels and the toys and all the fun Pharley and Dave are having, and the fact that Dave thinks Pharley is pretty cool and is now his best friend.
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t speak ferret, but I do speak Pharley, so he’s the translator from Dave to me. But don’t worry Momma, he’s very happy there. He gets LOTS of treats.”
Three. Jealousy.
Steve and I used to be part of this group of people who were our party friends. They were rich, and they throw the most amazing shindigs. We stopped hanging with them for various and sundry reasons, but mostly, because we aren’t rich, and when they’d travel, as they often do, they’d get tighter and we’d feel a little more on the outside. One of the guys in the group updates his blog now and again, and today I got an email with an update about a beach vacation he and his wife and this group of people just got back from. And I noticed another one of my friends, who I didn’t realize until now had married into this group, in the photos. And I started to burn with jealousy.
I know, it’s ugly. I hate this feeling.
Being part of this group was akin to being part of the popular clique in high school. I had a great time. Steve never quite felt like he belonged. And while I don’t quite miss the whole lifestyle–at 40, I don’t do well partying until 4am unless I have a week to recover–I miss that feeling of being included. Since we dropped out, we haven’t found another social outlet, and I’ve put on 20 pounds (nothing like a little friendly competition with a bunch of beautiful people to get your ass into the gym). Feeling this way makes me understand that it’s about time we find a new group of friends we both like hanging out with.
Five. Money.
Which brings me to money. It’s crossed my mind to take a holiday job, something part-time in retail maybe, to help pay for Christmas and pay off the credit card I somehow maxed out in September. I really don’t wanna, but the only other option is for me to cut back my spending drastically, which I also don’t wanna do. It’s not like I’m spending thousands of dollars a month on cosmetics and handbags. Cutting would mean never eating out, or going out. Neither sound like an appealing option to me. I hear that phone sex pays about $15 an hour. I guess I could do that from home. (or not)
Six. Weight loss.
OMFG I’m fat. Somehow, I’ve put on 7 pounds since the week before the wedding. I am not pleased with myself. I’ve let all the old bad habits creep back in–not going to the gym at all (since August!), eating like shit and skipping meals, drinking soda (even diet is awful for me and makes me crave sugar), drinking caffeine. I pulled out my winter wardrobe and all of the pants? Too small. I can’t go shopping for bigger clothes (see Five, above) nor do I want to. Last night at salsa practice I was winded after one run through. That’s sad. I usually put on about 5-10 pounds over the winter due to the SAD sugar cravings, and if I do that this year, I’ll be pushing 200 and plus-sizes. Disgusting. Something’s gotta give, and I think it’s the daily candy bar and couch surfing.
Seven. The novel.
I’m spending this weekend with Lorrie Moore, whose novel A Gate at the Stairs is on the best sellers list, at three different Lighthouse Writers events. I’m hoping hearing this genius of a writer speak and taking a “uncrafty workshop on craft” will motivate me to start over on my novel. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, thinking about research I need to do, thinking about the storyline. I have about 100 pages written, but I don’t think I’ll use much of it, except as a background exercise, because I started hating Jessie, the main character. She became very shrill very quickly. I don’t want to kill her off, so I’ll start over, knowing where I don’t want to go.
I’ve been in contact with one of Lighthouse’s novel writing teachers–a brilliant man named Bill Henderson–and if I can get out of debt, I’m going to hire him as my writing coach. While I know I can write, and have been successful writing short stories, I don’t know how to write a novel. I figure Bill can teach me. Sure, I could read a book, but I learn better through 1:1 instruction.
Eight. Purging the blogroll.
The only way I can carve out time for working on the book is to give something up. For the past 10 months, I’ve been following about 80 blogs, reading them through my Google Reader daily, or at least every-other day. After Blogher, I picked up another 25 or so blogs I really liked. Well, blog reading is taking up about 90 minutes a day. I love ya’ll, but something’s gotta give. I want to whittle my blog reading to about 15 minutes a day. I feel a bit guilty about this, because it seems one of the tennets of blogging is Thou Shall Read As Many Blogs As Possible and Leave Pithy Comments Almost Every Time. Also, I think instead of going to Blogher, I’ll be going to a weeklong writing retreat. Same week, same cost. But which is going to get me where I want to be?
Nine. What the?
I just realized that in this blog, I’ve said I want to add more time in my life for working out, cooking meals and eating healthier, having a social life, continuing dancing and maybe getting a part-time job. I am crazy.
Random Tuesday Thoughts
Posted by: | CommentsJoin the movement! Post your Random Tuesday Thoughts like the Un-Mom!
One.
I know it’s fall because our house stinks of feet. Why, you ask? Well, fall means saying goodbye to the flip-flops of summer and hello to gym shoes. My precious fashionista of a daughter hates, loathes, refuses to wear socks with her sneakers. Which means they reek after just two weeks of gym class. And it will get worse. So much worse. Trudy worse. (not a typo) You see, Trudy was my college roommate for one semester, and that chick had the stinkiest feet on the planet, so stinky that I made her put her shoes outside of our door until the RA told us to stop stinking up the entire dorm with those rancid kicks. Lauren’s feet get that bad. If we put her shoes outside, the neighbors complain. We’ve tried threatening, punishing, making her go to school barefoot unless she wears socks. I could spank her and make her give away her teddy bear and she’d still refuse. So I don’t fight it, and plan to buy her a new pair of shoes every three months or so. And make her wash her feet before bed. And plug my nose and complain a lot, thinking maybe, a little humiliation will make her wear socks. So far? It ain’t working. Lauren 1, Mom 0.
Two.
Last summer Steve bought a new laptop to aid in his job search. I begged suggested he buy it so that he could get out of the fucking house have a change of scenery and maybe, you know, meet some new people who could turn into good networking contacts. Steve loves bragging that he spent $87.30 last month and $40 of that was on gas and $40 was on a haircut. So to get him to invest in a laptop was quite the feat. Which he did. And it made him very happy and even got him out of the house a little. But then, one Sunday morning, I very sweetly made him breakfast and brought it to him in the family room. I set his glass of OJ on the coffee table … and it spilled all over his laptop. Fried it. Poof! $750 up in smoke. He said it was an accident and it wasn’t my fault. I felt awful. We tried to have it fixed but he hadn’t bought the “spillage rider” on his Best Buy service plan. After getting the incident thrown in my face during a couple of fights (ooh, we fight dirty!) I told him I’d buy him a new fucking laptop. But then, I couldn’t afford it. Still can’t. In the meantime, I have lost my iPod. I planned to buy a new one this month in lieu of spending my usual double-budgeted amount on clothes. So yesterday, I ambled into the Apple store to pick one up. And there I spotted the iPod Touch. Which has internet access. And email access. And apps (is there an app for catching a spilling orange juice glass? maybe). On a complete impulse, I bought one for Steve. No, it’s not a laptop, but it’s close. All he really wants to do is read theonion.com and watch YouTube videos and listen to his music. Which the iPod Touch allows him to do. He was blown away by the gift. Happy as a clam. Giggling almost. He promised never to throw the laptop wrecking of 2008 in my face again. (If he does, I’m taking the Touch hostage.)
Three.
I signed up to host the 3rd Grade Holiday Party tonight. I was under the influence of showing up my ex, who won’t sign up for anything at school.
WTF was I thinking?
Four.
25 days until the wedding. Well, 24, because we’d be married by now if it was Oct. 3. Two dozen days. The other night, Steve asked me if I was ready to be Mrs. Steven C. And yes, I am. But maybe still Ms. Lynn G. I still haven’t decided if I am changing my name or not. Part of me wants to show that I’m truly and deeply making this commitment and I intend for it to be permanent, because changing your name? Big pain in the ass. Huge. And the other part of me likes being Lynn G. It’s who I’ve been for 40 years, even when married last time when I did not hyphenate but rather went with two last names. (thereby showing my lack of commitment) I want to be a feminist and keep my name, but it’s my father’s name so how is that feminist? Torn. That’s me.
Five.
I make the most kick ass chicken green chile enchiladas. They may not be pretty like Jen @ userealbutter’s would be. But damn, they taste good, if I do say so myself. Mmmmm. mmm. Speaking of Jen, I swear to god I put on 10 pounds every single time I read her blog. Her photos are delicious looking. And speaking of butter, anyone else see Julie & Julia? I loved it. Even though Julia Child turned out to be a bitch in the end.
Six.
I am tired of cleaning up ferret shit.
Seven.
Steve has finally figured out what to get tattooed on his body. We are going to get new tattoos together, but they won’t be matching. But they will have similarities. We’ll take pictures. The big event will happen 2 days after our wedding. I know what I’m getting too but haven’t figured out where to put it: on my belly or my thigh or my left side curling up around my ribcage. I keep thinking that someday, I’ll get a tummy tuck and I don’t want the work to be ruined, so tummy may be out. Then again, I could be in a horrible karaoke accident at any moment that could disfigure any part of my body that is tattooed. So maybe I should just get it where it will hurt the least. Yet another decision I will make at the last minute. The only thing I know for sure in this matter is I want to be able to see this one.
Eight.
I don’t look like the kind of girl who gets tattoos, do I?
Random Tuesday Thoughts
Posted by: lynn | Comments (1)One. I (heart) my comment spam.
Whenever I’m feeling a bit down, I go read my comment spam. These spammers, they have the compliment DOWN. They make me feel so smart and useful and successful. Except for the one that tells me maybe I should do more research on the topic, because I’m an idiot. And, if I click through (but not at work for god’s sake), I often find some decent porn.
Two. The overwhelm continues.
I was concerned that my new director didn’t know that I exist. Not anymore. Four emails yesterday. He is enthusiastic. He is smart. He is ON IT. And he’s not even officially in the job yet. This is going to be a sea change for me, because I’ve pretty much been able to do my job and check in with the person in that seat as I wanted to. He’s going to keep me on my toes.
I’m struggling between sticking to my already overflowing to-do list and jumping on what he wants me to do. And that’s why I’ve worked almost 20 hours between yesterday and today.
Three. LOST!
The season premiere better live up to expectations.
Four. New nephew the late-night host.
My new nephew is very cute for a newborn. However, I’m struggling to remember his name: Carson. I keep saying Carter. Since I’m not a late-night TV watcher, I keep thinking: Ok, what was that dude’s name on the Tonight Show? The original one? With the turban and the fat dude? Johnny something … ah yes. Carson. This morning I called Laurel and told her she has to name her kid something easy, like George or Mary, so I can remember it.
I held Carson for 10 minutes in the hospital on Sunday, and I had ZERO baby craving. None. I batted my eyes at Steve, who was sitting in the corner of the room as far away as possible from said newborn, and asked, “Don’t I look great wearing this baby?” His reply, in effect: “Yes, but you look better when you take it off.”
Five. Woot! Personal Essay Writing Class!
I used to be a regular at Lighthouse Writers Workshop, Denver’s rock star writing community. Can you say Carleen Brice? And David Wroblewski? Not to mention Colorado’s Poet Laureate, Chris Ransick, and a bunch of other figures of literary awesomeness.
I had been an avid poet and short story writer, and I loved my workshops–the sharing, the bonding, the teachers, the students, the writing. When I had Lauren, I stopped workshopping. OK, I stopped writing. For years. I’ve taken a few half-day courses. And in 2005 I attended about half of the 8-week novel writing class I paid for (I didn’t love that teacher, unfortunately).
I’m very excited about this new 8-week class on personal essay writing because I already have a place to publish my essays: here. And I’m excited to learn from the teacher, Shari Caudron.
Mostly, I’m excited to have story assignments. I do so much better with them.
Six. Massage Envy: Rubbing me the wrong way.
For the past 2 years, I’ve had a membership at Massage Envy, that chain massage place where you pay $49 a month for a massage. My experience there has been touch-and-go: The first year, I found a therapist I loved. Then he left, probably to open his own place and make more money. Since then, I haven’t found someone who rubs me the right way.
I’ve decided to quit my membership for a few reasons.
First, I’m not going often enough to justify $50 a month. I have four unused massages sitting in my account right now.
Second, no one is clicking with me.Did I mention the very overweight therapist I’ve gotten stuck with who SWEATED on me during treatment? Or the guy with bad cigarette breath?
Third, the therapists have time management issues when it comes to sessions longer than 50 minutes. For example, last month I had a 90 minute massage, during which the therapist spent a ton of time on my lower back, then lost track of time and had to rush through the rest of it. Since I’m so bad at using my membership, I tend to do 90 and 120 minute massages. See first.
Fourth: Each massage room has a sign suggesting the tip. In general, I think that’s rude. It makes your customers think tipping is required, or that if they don’t tip they’re a schmuck. (I do tip every time; I just don’t like being told to do it.) In addition, the tip card suggests tips on the “industry standard” rates of $65 for an hour massage or $95 for 90 minutes.
I’m sorry, but that’s like saying to a restaurant guest, you know, we decided as a marketing ploy to charge a regular price of $50 for your steak, but across the street you’d pay $95 for the same thing, so why don’t you tip the waiter on the amount you’d pay across the street. Call me petty, but this bugs the shit out of me to the point that I think about the tip the whole time I’m being massaged.
Final Straw: Sunday. I signed up for a two-hour massage, and got booked with a new therapist. She was nice, and we chatted a bit to get started. She did a great job of working my arms, hands and wrists for about 10 minutes total, which is much longer than anyone ever works those areas. Then, she started on my shoulders. And stayed on them — and particularly on two silver-dollar-sized sections on the front of my shoulder joint — to the point where it hurt and I had to ask her to move on. And she kept coming back to those points. I had asked for full body massage. I had asked her to move on. I was naked under a sheet. I was in a vulnerable position. I couldn’t exactly get mad out loud now could I? So I lay there and seethed. And winced.
In the end, she spent more than an hour and 10 minutes rubbing my shoulders and neck, and then rushed the rest of the massage. She hit every raw nerve in my body. It was like she was massaging my bones instead of my muscles. (I know these people are certified by law in Colorado, but this person must have barely passed.) And then, the time was up and I had to tip. I gave her $20 and was pissed (see Fourth, above). For the rest of the day, I was sick, and sore, and headachey, and nauseous. Yesterday morning, I saw the bruises: two black and blue points on the fronts of my shoulders. I am pissed. It’s the last straw, so I’m quitting.
I’ll have 30 days to use up my remaining 4 massages, but I guarantee I’ll to them in 4 50 minute sessions. Talk about rubbing me the wrong way.