My dream last night involved me needing a double mastectomy and my ovaries removed.  So I went about it by removing one ovary with one breast at a time.  I made it through the first operation and looked down at my stitched up chest with no nipple and started mourning my breast more than the missing ovary.  I know, totally weird.

So what does this have to do with anything?  I don’t know.  But here’s what I think it may be somehow related to, in a convoluted way that just shows how messed up I am.

I have been completely off routine the past 2 weeks.  Between birthdays, holidays, and a broken fridge I have been at boy’s for 2 weeks straight, not running a whole lot, not eating great, not doing a lot of homework (not good).  My diet is the worst.  I have been eating a lot of sugar and over-eating at meals and feeling really crummy afterward.  And then tonight, I had escargot.  yup, that’s right.  Boy and I have discussed my past love of weird foods - (I’m talking frog legs, pastrami, canned vienna sausages - yeah, I used to LOVE that stuff) - I thought I was over those days.  But apparently not.  I like escargot, really, I do.  But what upsets me most is that I had no qualms about eating it.  Nothing.  Not a stir.  And I’m having issues this evening about losing my convictions.  I used to feel passionately about eating well and responsibly.  Where’d that go?

So what does this have to do with losing a breast and ovary in my dream? (why yes I did wake up and grab my boobs first thing in the morning and was quite relieved.)  I have been eating crappy, I feel crappy about myself, wether it’s true or not I feel like I am putting on weight, so I feel like I look like ass, and in my contorted reality, feeling feminine involves being lean.  So if I feel like I look like ass, I feel like I am losing my femininity, hence losing my boobs and ovaries.

Hopefully next week will be quiet.  And boy is leaving to geek it out at comic con.  Just me and Jack and a whole lot of studying to catch up on.  I look forward to becoming a creature of routine once again.  And rejuvenating my energy level by being alone.  BlogHer hasn’t even started and I’m already drained by the amount socialization required for my job.

The dog park is a weird place, socially.  There are definitely social circles, those people who go there every day, twice a day, bring a dog brush and run it through the coat of any dog that passes by.  Weird.  I have my does and don’ts.  Like don’t bring your lunch to the dog park, spill your fries, and let the dogs clean it up.  Not cool.  Don’t feed my dog a red vine because that’s what you give your dog as treats.  Don’t use that brush on my dog.  And my #1 peeve - don’t bring kids to the dog park!  The dog park is for dogs, not for kids to run around.  With kids around, I have to block Jack off from whatever half of the yard the kids are running around on.

Today at the dog park a dog fight broke out.  It happens, often with the big dogs.  After the fight broke up a man charged over to a woman and said “what’s your name?!  my dog’s bleeding, it was your dog.”  The woman apologized and the chow was bleeding from the ear, so the woman apologized.  However, since the man was aggressive in his approach, OF COARSE her dog lunged.  She was visibly shaken by this man’s approach.  He also accused her dog of biting his hand where he had a spot of blood.  He made her write down her name and information, and she was so upset she had to leave. 

I’ve seen this woman at the dog park before.  She has a pitt mix puppy.  And I’ve never seen a problem with this dog before.  The dog did not instigate the fight, just charged into the brawl when it started.  Here’s what I think, knowing that legally the woman whose dog bit is entirely responsible for everything - but you stick your hand into a dog brawl, it’s likely to get bit.  I’ve had to pull a pitt off of Jack before, Jack was obviously pinned under and the owner wasn’t budging so I took him by the collar and yanked so Jack could get out.  There have been times where one dog is obviously aggressive and the owner is not taking the right preventative steps, people at the dog park usually step up and let the owner know unless he/she takes responsibility for training the dog, the dog is not welcome.  Especially in Berkeley where the majority of dogs are rescues.   But by the same token, I accept there is a risk of Jack getting injured at a dog park in a brawl.  I also worry when he attacks, but if someone takes special interest in Jack I usually give them a warning not to approach him directly because he will get fearful and respond in a lunge.  So far the worst experience I had was Jack going after a man and the leash escaped me and the man bounced around and around and around which just instigated Jack.  The chaotic dance of Jack lunging and this man bouncing around went on for a good minute or so.  To top it off, he was blocking me from my dog so I couldn’t reach Jack and I was so pissed by this man’s reaction.  It’s one thing to train a dog, it’s another to train a person how to respond to a dog.  Anyway, this was just a tough call.  The woman whose dogs started the fight has a history of dog brawl instigations, and the worst part is, she stands back and yells which, in my opinion, increases the chaos level.  I admit, I have a good dog and I’m lucky.  Just like I would never get a car bigger than my Jetta because I wouldn’t be comfortable driving it, I don’t know if I could get a dog bigger than 30 lbs because I don’t have the emotional fortitude to deal with the stress level in training.  But I learned after several bad experiences with Jack that me getting stressed makes a situation worse.  What does work, I make eye contact, stay calm, point to my nose, and make Jack focus on my nose until whatever chaotic is occurring goes away. 

Dogs are dogs.  They fight, play rough, and it’s important to know triggers and what they best respond to.  But I was upset by the entire situation and unsure who was right and what was fair.  I hope the girl and her dog are okay, I hope this doesn’t keep her away from the dog park because it’s so important to start socialization early.  I understand how seeing your dog bleed can be jarring, but how you react is also important and returning the aggression on the girl didn’t accomplish anything.  When Jack is a little older I want to adopt a little brother or sister for him, but I know this situation will stay in my mind when we go through the rescue process again.

Dear San Francisco tourists - WALK on the left, STAND on the right

I didn’t go to class this evening.  I went to have some vegan Vietnamese food in Oakland instead. 

Part of the reason I didn’t go to class is because of a sinus ache that is returning from over a month of not fully recovering from a sinus infection.

I haven’t run more than a mile or two in a while because my knee hurts, but I’m too scared to go to the doctor because I’ve convinced myself the doctor will want to replace my knee.  I’m too young for this.

I’ve put on some extra pudge.  But it doesn’t really bother me as much as it usually does.

Boy and I have grown close.  It’s nice.

The closer we get the more the events of last fall haunt me.  But that’s not a bad thing for me and boy.

Sometimes after watching Jon and Kate plus 8, I start talking to Jack like Kate does her kids.  Because I am a strong hard-ass and he will grow up to be the best dog he can be with my help.  I am shaping a dog people.

Jack just sneezed like 5 or 6 times in a row.

I was looking forward to BlogHer.  But now I am wary of such a large community of women.  Mostly because I am tired of mothers who think being a mother makes them more valuable an individual than other women who don’t have children.  It’s not cool.  I’m hoping stereotypes will be broken.

I have serious stomach issues.  Sometimes I have to rush boy home so I can go to the bathroom and he has taken to running in circles around me yelling “poop emergency!  it’s a poop emergency people!!”

Boy turns 38 tomorrow. 

I remind him of his age everyday.

I just made him some tea and saw a dead little fruit fly in the water and just scooped it out without changing the water. 

I don’t feel bad about this.  I think I would have done the same if it were my tea.

He’s going to read that and spit on my waffle in the morning.  But that’s okay.

Because I made him a chocolate cake with cayenne pepper and cinnamon.  It’s awesome.

When I was 14 my grandfather died.  It was one of those deaths that everyone knew was coming.  My mom brought me and each of my siblings over one at a time to visit with him right before he died.  He was sort of fading in and out of talking gibberish and making sure we were all okay.  Every time he drifted my step-grandmother brought his attention to me, sitting at the foot of his bed, and he would smile.  I remember being woken up by my mom early one morning because she had sat with him through the night.  She sat on the side of my bed and woke me up and before she opened her mouth I knew what she was going to say.  I had a dream the night before I was locked in a room with his coffin.

This was a series of dreams I had been having for a good 6 months prior to his death.  I would wake up mid sobbing or puffy eyed and not really remember the dream but knew it had something to do with him.  I didn’t handle the funeral very well, but I blame my sister for that.  She’s the strong one.  And right before the wake she cracked like I had never seen her do before and it scared the shit out of me.  If she can’t handle something, I know I won’t be able to deal.

The dreams didn’t stop, however they did change.  The first one started with a phone call.  My grandfather called from heaven with some news to deliver and after talking to my mom and not being able to get her to listen, I got on the phone.  He told me the news, and I knew he had to hang up but I shouted “I miss you” and he was gone.  I woke up and ran to deliver the news to my mom.  The dreams continued sporadically and the phone calls changed to my grandfather coming over to spend a day with me around the house to catch up on how everyone was doing.  The weird part was sometimes we would speak in French.  I had always regretted not being able to speak in French with him (he was fluent - from Zurich) but I had yet to become fluent. 

Anyway, that’s the only death of someone who was very close to me.  And I don’t think the dreams were foreshadowing anything.  I think the dreams were there to help me deal with fear.  I wrote about my grandmother being sick.  She finally made it home last week after delays with infections.  And my dreams about death started up again.  And this isn’t foreshadowing anyone’s death.  That woman is a steel magnolia.  I expect she’ll surpass everyone’s expectations like usual, although she will take a little longer to do so this time around.

Instead this is more of a selfish concern about growing up.  I will face mortality again inevitably.  And I think my psyche is prepping me for facing my fears, getting the tears out in my sleep until I’m strong enough to think about them when I’m awake.  So I push away a little, call my mom, ask her to check up on people for me because I’m too scared to do it myself. 

I think part of learning how to love is learning how to deal with death.  No one is naturally good at dealing with death.  But I do know that the more I love someone, the more likely I am to keep a certain distance.  And I’m sure everyone does this to a degree.  The dreams that started again have knocked me off kilter.  I’m stubborn and really good at convincing myself I’m tough.  But not so much lately.

I turned 27 on Sunday. 

I could go back and reflect ”On Turning 26” but I spent a good year reflecting back on the decisions I made during that year and, well, sometimes it’s okay to not analyze everything.  I baked a tart (surprisingly delicious), had a good brunch (cafe cacao!), wore a dress (over jeans, b/c I insisted on wearing one despite the foggy cold), took off for the beach, watched Jack and boy dodge waves and get sand in their nooks and crannies, ate at my favorite restaurant Hulas Island Grill and Tiki Lounge, then drove home with a tired puppy passed out in the backseat and good tunes on the drive.  And then I stayed up to 2:30 am studying for a midterm, went to work, came home, and spent a solid 3.5 hours in a classroom on 12 midterm questions - and I didn’t even finish!  So I came home, cried a little, dug into my princess cake, then went to bed where I curled up in a tight little ball for most of the night and proceeded to dream that I was stuck in that classroom working on those 12 questions until 1 am. 

And now, a full day later, I’ve recovered from my midterm.  It helps that when I got home and sat down on the floor Jack took a tennis ball and nudged it all the way up my back just to let it fall.  Priorities, you know?

I got a tennis skirt for my birthday, which sounds weird, but I’ve been wanting one for a while.  And I fully expect my game to improve just by wearing a pleated tennis skirt.  And I’ll be wearing it to run in too.  Because I can.

so the lemon bar reviews are going on hold.  Due to, well, pudge.  Hips and thighs to be precise.  Once I get back in balance, i’ll pick these up again.

I know, 2 movies in a row! 

I went to see this Sunday night.  And I left completely pissed off, but I’ll get to that later…  I really like how the movie brought my attention to the subtleties of affection that I take for granted.  Without words the actions are amplified and it brought me back to the time where you really really really want to hold someone’s hand but aren’t quite sure how to go about it.  That was nice.  I have a new respect for the small motions of falling in love.

The chubbies were funny.  But seriously, obese people are one of those PC topics that you aren’t really supposed to make fun of… but now that Pixar/Disney did it, does that mean it’s okay now?  Believe me, I’m not that PC, like at all.  I happily poke fun at anyone any day, but it seems to me that making fun of overweight/obese people hasn’t crossed-over into that territory yet.  It’s still lingering in the shadow of only self-deprecating humor is acceptable, but no one else can poke fun.  And now Disney did it.  Good for Disney.

Okay, here’s what totally pissed me off.  This movie has a great message about consumption.  And Americans are so obsessed with consumption.  (I actually catch myself getting anxious and wanting to go buy something to soothe my anxiety - bad, bad.)  So I love that so many people will see this movie and enjoy it.  But when we got up to leave after confirming that the closing credits song was indeed Peter Gabriel, I looked over to see all the effing wrappers, drink cups, and bottles scattered down the row.  I was PISSED.  Here was this message about people buying over-sized everything and the trash accumulating and that’s exactly what people did when the movie was over.  I left that theater with a plastic bottle that I insisted on carrying all the way home just so I could make sure it got put into the recycle bin and all these people just left their trash.  I know, boy said it too, someone will come along behind us to clean it up - but seriously?  Did they just watch the robots on the screen and nothing else?  Okay, i’ll stop now.  Just know, if you see someone glaring at you with squinty eyes and a thin line frown after you leave your trash behind, that’s me…  that’s right, changing the world through passive aggression one person at a time.

I meant to write about this movie when I first saw it several months ago.  It’s a really good movie, but it left me emotionally stirred and I couldn’t figure out why.  The whole time boy and I were watching it I fluctuated between really wanting to turn it off and really liking everything about it.  B/c I’m a girl like that.

But I think there were 2 things that caused this: the love story and the family aspect.

The love story - Steve Carell’s wife died and left him raising 3 teenage girls that hate him in only the way teenage girls can.  He’s a funny-tragic character and is too hung up on his dead wife to date.  (I know, I’m not good at movie reviews.)  But anyway, he meets a girl and decides she’s his 100% perfect girl only to find out it’s his brother gal.  Hysterical temper tantrums of self-pity ensue (I so relate to temper tantrums of self-pity.)  It’s all about mixed up timing when you meet the one you want to be with, but trying to go after it anyway.  I like this idea, because I think timing is an important element to love, but no one goes without getting hurt in real life.  And in the movie it seemed too simple.  That was my first frustration.

The family story - I don’t know where it took place.  Over Thanksgiving in a big wooden house somewhere in upstate New York.  Big family, all together, playing games like crossword puzzle competitions, talent shows pulled together in the living room and casual dinners around a big table.  Kids, grand-kids, brothers and sisters and cousins.  I don’t have any cousins.  And my family is scattered all over the place.  And our holidays went from formal dining to a split between having to choose between real family and step family.  I turned to boy during the movie and asked if he could imagine having a family reunion like that where everyone gets together to play board games.  No, he couldn’t imagine it either.  But, it looked really nice.  It looked like fun.  And this frustrated me because I think I’ve convinced myself that families like that don’t exist.  All families are highly dysfunctional and you can’t convince me that there wasn’t some cousin Johnny cut out from the scenes because he was drunk at the other end of the table shouting obscenities at someone.  The more I watched the more I wanted to turn it off but the more I couldn’t turn away. 

I expect there to be a big divide between friends who know exactly what I’m talking about and those that don’t have a clue.  Scenes like that in a movie make me want to not have kids because I don’t want to have them if I don’t have a big family to surround them with.  Of course the family scenes were a bit idealized in the movie, but I’ve seen families make it work.  Anyway, it’s something to think about.

Lemon Bar #4 - that center cafe with the red awning in SF City Center Mall food court.

I like this cafe.  They have these good vegan cookies that are my vegan sugar bombs that I used to get all the time. Also, a large staff of tiny little asian girls that think “Sexy People Leave Tips!”  After my cold, that was now about a month ago, I had this cough that would not frickin’ go away.  It drove me and my cube mates nuts b/c they probably all thought I was contaminated.  I was cleared of walking pneumonia and diagnosed with basically a cough for habit’s sake.  I was prescribed these capsules - basically, I require numbing to break the habit of coughing.  And these little capsules, well if you accidentally pop one in your mouth your whole mouth goes numb and you could choke.  Today I think one popped on the way down in my esophagus; the capsule kind of got stuck for a while followed by a weird “did I just swallow or not?” sensation.  So with all this said, I decided on a lemon bar, to perk up my numb esophagus of course.

I saw it in the case and thought damn, that’s a lot of powdered sugar on top!  Good sign.  But it’s also square.  I like my lemon bars big flat rectangles.  Much to my chagrin, the powdered sugar on top is a little too much.  It’s too overwhelming and it’s the last flavor to leave my mouth so instead of feeling like I ate something tart and refreshing, I feel like I had a spoonful of powdered sugar.  And sometimes I do take a spoonful of powdered sugar at home when I feel like it, but that’s not what I want when I get a lemon bar.  The rest is totally average - not a very crumbly lemon part, just curd-y enough, but nothing spectacular in terms of flavor.  The crust is annoying.  It’s so average.  I like my lemon bars to have a distinct color difference b/w the crust and curd, this one is all monochrome.  I don’t know, there’s something irritatingly average about this one.  Maybe it’s just my mood getting in the way…

I’m debating the last bite, if you can believe it.

Jack was curled up in my lap last night and I was watching TV (Hopkins, so gonna be my new favorite summer show) and petting Jack.

me: Hey!  did Jack hit his head on something today?

boy: oh yeah, while you were getting your hair cut he was playing and pouncing in the tall grass.  He pounced into a tree.

me: hard?

boy: umm, yeah - he had to step back for a couple of seconds…  I laughed.

Jack’s got a knuckle-sized knot on the crown of his head.  He must of pounced full force into the tree.  But I’m glad his adolesence hasn’t kept him from playing like a puppy.