Monthly Archives: January 2008

Dirty Little Secret

not so dirty. more so shame on me. but I have horrible eating habits. it’s a dirty little secret because people think I eat really healthy because I preach it like no-body’s business and am really into that healthy lifestyle nonsense, and overall I think I eat better than most people. but if heaven exists it’d be a place where I can eat stale cakey donuts, stale cotton candy and marshmallows, saltines, and figs all the livelong day.

During the holidays while at work I was pushing 3 cups of coffee daily with tons of sugar and if someone set out a box of cookies, which was nearly daily, I’d be responsible for clearing half the box. And I have tried 3 times this year to try the Master Cleanse, a trendy 9-day fast that involves drinking a cayenne pepper maple syrup lemonade, laxative tea at night, and mint tea throughout the day. But it’s like setting yourself up in the new year just to let yourself down. I wanted to break my sugar habit – the same sugar habit that drove me to break the fast by going on a pastry hunt for the biggest sugar bomb within walking distance all three times I tried it.

The worst part of my sugar habit is that I hide it very well. When ex-boy turns his back, I can easily down 5 marshmallows keeping 2 jumbos in my cheeks for later without him noticing. A commercial came out a while back that had an average sized woman coming home from work and reaching into the fridge to pull out a huge piece of chocolate cake for dinner and the message was staying healthy isn’t just about size. I had been found out and exposed, bastard health insurance companies.

So shame on me. And now that I have confessed, and will surely get a lecturing call from my mom, maybe I’ll now work a little harder to change my habits. I can at least say that I’m back to drinking tea instead of coffee, the pale and weak herbal kind of course.

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a few notes on books

The first time I saw form reflecting content in a book and realized what was going on, I got really excited about it.  I think it was in Dave Eggers You Shall Know Our Velocity.  A description of a boat ride had blank pages that followed the boat being slammed up against a wave and flying through the air.  And omigod Dave Eggers just got that. much. hotter.

So I started looking for books that had interesting things done with the pages and text.  And by far the best book to do just that is People of Paper.  It’s an elegant looking book with slightly raised cover art and a band paper jacket that someone once stopped to admire when I had it sitting on my desk.  On perusing it, sometimes every other page gets skipped aside from a few words.  Further along, each page has two columns of writing for separate voices speaking at once and then sometimes the columns are completely blacked like a toddler had some fun with a permanent marker.  And then, this is what sealed the deal, there was a hole in a page.  A single word had been perfectly cut out in the middle of one of the pages.  I was beyond impressed and let it slide that in the end it was a commentary on writing a book.  And oh the agony of being a writer.  Fortunately most writers have the ego to compensate for the agony.

I’m currently reading Raw Shark Texts and it has the same features of words on pages squished together to create the shark that haunts the plot.  There are other word forms throughout and an entire sub-plot about words and “letter-bombs” being used to confuse the villain.  It’s a stretch and I compared it to mix of Clive Barker’s Weaveworld and People of Paper.  Ex-boy gave me Weaveworld to read when I was bored of reading female authors and I kept coming back to him with comments like “someone really thought this was a good idea to publish” and “umm, what?  there’s a rug and people live in the rug?” and then further along there are several scenes where someone jerks off and that person is just so evil his ejaculate turns to evil snakes, this is already after introducing the person’s shit turning into snakes…  Seriously?  did Clive Barker write this whole book while sitting on the toilet? 

But in any case, I think the form reflecting content fascination is coming to a close for me.  Until then I’m going to stick to the old standby of David Mitchell where I can just read without paying attention because I won’t know what’s going on until the end anyway because that’s the point.

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it’s a time of year thing (warning, there’s a bit of whine in this)

It lasts generally around the end of January until end of April.  I can’t stand this time of year.  With the holidays gone and all the reason to celebrate gone, I search endlessly for ways to celebrate something.  So I end up doing silly things like buying all those Little Debbie heart-shaped cakes that come out for Valentine’s Day and eating through the box even though it tastes like a spoonful of sugar and flavor extract.  Between January and April I usually go to craft stores and Ikea and buy everything pastel and I eat my way up the scale until May hits and I can go play outside in the sun again and I wonder what I was thinking during those past few months that had me sitting on the couch unmotivated and not excited by anything.

For the moment what’s got me is the short-term crappiness that is out-weighing the long-term goals.  I am pretty sure I’m the oldest one in my class and likely the only full-time employed person.  And my what was at first a charming little apartment has turned into a thin-walled trap were my bird of paradise was tossed out by the landlord and my upstairs night-shift neighbor is a trashy sex-fiend (it’s a combination of hearing her or her dog who usually barks during it.  someone needs to rescue that dog and my ceiling from being ruined with swiffer marks.)  So I pay $925 a month for a place that lacks adequate seating to have a place to store stuff in between sitting on ex-boy’s couch.  So no one better complain that I’m not going back to Louisiana anytime soon to visit because it has been almost 2 years that I’ve lived by myself and I don’t have a chair, my bed is also my couch made of foam, and my landlord cuts my heat off between 8am-5pm and 10pm-6am (is that even legal?)  By June.  I will have a frigging chair.  (just a note that I said the same thing last year but then decided to go back to school.  Alas, no chair and all of Spring ’08 has been dedicated to finding a way to pay for school.  but i need a chair!)

Wishing I could fast forward to Easter.

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Grateful for self-check out

when trying out something trendy from Skinny Bitch requires going to the store and buying a laxative tea called “smooth move.”

a time I really needed self-check out:

3 years ago when I asked ex-boy if he needed anything from Target and he replied with a very sad face “preparation H.”

(Once upon a time, I was the best girlfriend ever.)


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Success, sort of

I can get off the ski life standing up – damn straight.  I just put the board down, glided off until I hit the snow bank to stop, threw my hands in the air, then looked all around to see who saw that miracle.  That’s right bitches, I can get off the bunny hill ski lift upright, not the summit lift because you’ve got to be kidding me there is a steep drop right off the lift and I’m supposed to glide off that?  I just didn’t even try and I hit it right when I got off and laid there laughing while I heard that infamous siren that indicates “idiot fell off the lift and we all have to stop and wait until she gets up off her ass.”  My ass was bruised at the point, so it took a while.

And while you can’t really tell by the look of my knees, I did a bit better than last time at the snowboarding.  Which means I glided across the end zone standing up (I didn’t know how to stop so I just hit it face first only to have a 7 yr old ask “ooooh, are you okaaay?”)  but point being, if there was a photo finish, I’d be standing in it. 

And at the end of the day, all I wanted was to have the 2.5 mile beginner run under my belt, just something to brag about really.  So that’s when ex-boy and I took the lift to the 8,000ft summit.  And it was cold, and kept snowing, and my gloves were wet on the inside, and why did I start feeling like ass half-way up?  But I wasn’t going to complain, I’m a hard-ass snowboarder.  So I sucked it up and when I managed to peel myself off the snow coming off the lift, I kicked off my board and ran to the nasty smokey meat restaurant because I didn’t know why but suddenly I have that I’m gonna hurl sensation.  Altitude sickness – who knew? 

After warming up a bit, we started the beginning of the run, head on into blinding snow drifts.  Ex-boy hit it thinking he would surely run into someone.  But me, I was so tired of falling and getting back up that I just kept on, maybe even closing my eyes because I was nauseated and tired and it’s not like I could see anyway, or control my speed really.  Realizing if I didn’t hit it now I was probably going to hit it on that tree, I skid down on my butt and the fresh snow hit my face and ouch did I lose the skin on my face somewhere because I CAN’T FEEL MY FACE.  And I kicked off my board, and with 2.25 miles left of the run, I gave up and started walking down, burping all the way from my leftover altitude nausea.  A few hills down, I got back on it.  But it was flat, so I stood on my board and did a very awkward wiggle to try to get myself going until I ended up just reaching down and pushing myself along in the snow to the next hill until I could build some speed.  Any way you look at it, I made it down that 2.5 mile beginner run, and then ran ran ran to the car to get back to the lodge only to take Jack snowshoeing again before the hurt really set in.

The cabin was fun, and Jack hopped up on the bed in front of the fireplace and laid there for hours with a smile on his face.  When we lived in Pensacola, I knew I could get stuck there living near the water, working in a touristy place at the beach, as long as I can be outdoors near the beach (not some retail job where your manager asks if a colleague is trying to make herself rape-proof, yeeeeah ask me about that.)  It’s the same reason I hesitate to go to Hawaii – just give me a job at a surf shop and put me outdoors near the beach and I will be content for life.  If I could run a kayak, bike, ski rental shop in Tahoe and be near water and outdoors, I probably wouldn’t flinch.  But this led to a conversation between me and ex-boy about being content verses being satisfied that will surely come up again. 

My knees:


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clipped too soon

When I first got Jack he peed like a girl, squatting really low to the ground and kind of shaking.  Gradually he moved up to lifting his leg and doing so very unsteadily.  And then he started to mark his spot on our walks, which I encouraged with saying stuff like “who’s my little man, good job.”  He once fell into a thorny blackberry bush while peeing which led to an awkward conversation with a man beginning with “why is your do walking like that?”  But overall, he’s figuring out how to pee like a man. 

I think it started with the mistake of letting him sleep in bed with me.  So now every night prior to falling asleep I get a 25lb slam against my side.  And if I move in the middle of the night, I get another 25lb slam as he finds my side again.  And when I wake up he’s slammed me over to the edge of the bed.   Then he started thinking my bed was his bed and he would growl when I moved or cower back to the bed to show that he hates the 6 am run.  Now when I approach directly he rolls over, belly-up, and sprays. 

And this habit has extended to anything he doesn’t want to do – put on a harness, go into the kitchen, get off the couch, stop chewing the table leg…  He’s a little puss.  And I’m not raising my voice, just usually pushing him in a general direction or picking him up and moving him to where he’s allowed, and on comes the spray. 

I’ve made him into a momma’s boy and I have to stop it before I lose my apartment deposit to his tinkle issues.  Little puss needs his balls back so he can toughen up.

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more of a dog that can fly and new love


And who knew that snowshoeing could be this much fun…

Snowshoeing from Al on Vimeo.

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the boy who will never give up on me

I sat on the couch today with frizzy frizzy hair, slightly smelling of manure from bathing Jack after the hike but not taking a shower myself, and crying because I caught a cold.  Not crying because I feel crappy, crying because all I wanted was to get through the week without getting sick.  And the first day I stop concentrating on staying in good health, I wake up with a sore throat and post-nasal poop.

I wiped my crusty nose, dabbed my eyes with wadded up toilet paper, put braids in my hair to cut down on frizz, and sat slouched over while I chewed my way through some vitamins.

Ex-boy walked by, looked up and said “your hair looks very nice.”

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further evidence on a dog that flies


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my milestones

It seems like everyone around me is talking about the milestones their children have met or not met.  After ex-boy and I split, I had milestones of my own.  I had to make them short-term because I needed to assure myself that I could bounce back quickly – Thanksgiving (survive family and work without lingering on personal issues), Christmas (survive the awkwardness of spending it with your ex), Macworld (the most stressful time of year for work on top of trying to put closure on personal issues).  And I had convinced myself that once these were done, it would all be smooth sailing.  And I just passed the last one I set for myself.  And nothing seems to be clearer or have gotten any easier.  If anything, things are more confusing than ever.
I’ve always had a plan and a goal.  And a back up plan.  And a way out of a situation that allowed me to control my surroundings.  But for the next few months I don’t have a plan, a goal, or any idea of where I hope to end up.

And someone please get me a xanax so I don’t have to walk, hike, or run anymore as a way to ward off the anxiety because my legs are about to fall off and my hamstrings about to snap and Jack now hides and tinkles when I pull out the harness and leash as if to say “momma, I know you have to run so you don’t snap, but really, I’ll be okay if you want to just leave me in bed.”

In short, I failed to reach my milestones.

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