It was a weekend that could be considered bad, but I will look past the bad parts and state that overall, it was still good. Saturday I had to work. I started off the morning with a gingerbread latte from Starbucks and overall had a nice day. When I got home, Paul had wrapped his Christmas present for me and done some chores while I was gone. He seemed out of sorts, and I couldn’t really pinpoint what was wrong with him. When I asked he denied anything being out of the ordinary, and finally said he had a bit of a headache. In my mind this settled the question, he often is a bit melancholy when he gets headaches so I didn’t worry about anything further.

We headed out to go to dinner, look for a Christmas present for Paul’s dad, and do our weekly grocery shopping. In the car, Paul revealed that he had found my gift to him while searching for gift bows. I had been really excited about my gift to him, a twelve-piece set of high quality kitchen knives. He loves to cook, and has been drooling over the set for months. Since buying them, I have looked forward to seeing his excited face when he unwrapped them.

Paul and I have a history of Christmases in which he has money to spend and spoils me, while I fail miserably at making him happy. This year, I finally was able to get him a really good gift, something that would really show how much I love him. Finding out that the surprise was spoilt, I was completely upset. I began to sob, wailing that Christmas was ruined yet again. I’d never even considered that he would find the gift before I had a chance to wrap it. I’d stashed it in the guest room closet, where he never goes….unless he’s looking for bows.

Damn. It. All.

Paul was horrified that I was crying. Since I was driving, there wasn’t a lot he could do to comfort me (and was probably not too confident in my ability to sob uncontrollably and steer the car at the same time). He put a gentle hand on the back of my neck, under my hair, and rubbed it soothingly. He assured me it was all right, he loved his gift, he wasn’t disappointed, and he would have me unwrap my present when we got home and just do Christmas gift exchanges very, very early this year. Slowly I quieted down. “Is that why you were acting weird earlier?” I asked, sniffling.

“Yeah, a little,” he admitted. “I debated over whether or not to tell you.”

I wiped my nose on my sleeve. “It was good you told me,” I said, considering things. “You have no poker face.” (He doesn’t.) “I would’ve seen your face when you opened them and known that you knew what you were getting.”

“That’s true,” he agreed.

We went to Azteca for dinner and actually had a pretty nice time, despite my meltdown over the discovery of his gift. At home later, he let me unwrap my gift. I was hesitant about this. I always want to wait until Christmas morning, this year more so than ever because we wouldn’t be visiting family or having traditional Christmas, but he was insistent (and he and I have never made it until Christmas to exchage gifts anyway). I unwrapped the large box he presented me with and found a Kitchenaid mixer, an item I have coveted my entire adult life. It’s black and gorgeous and perfect for baking! Paul may be the cook of the house, but I adore baking and have only recently begun indulging in this enjoyable hobby again.

On Sunday we decided to take a bike ride together. Since I didn’t own a bike, the first order of business was to go to Target and purchase one. As we walked outside, Paul said, “It’s snowing.”

“Yeah right,” I muttered. Weather reports had been calling for snow, but I wasn’t buying it.

“It is,”he insisted. “Look.”

Sure enough, snow flurries were falling.

We still went to Target for my new bike, but decided it would be more fun to take the Jeep out to Highway 20 so we could see thicker snow. That road gets closed down for bad weather conditions in the winter, but this early in the season, it was a great place to see snow. We packed some cheese, ham, and crackers for lunch and went out on our drive. As we followed the road east, the snow grew heavier and the road icier. After lunch, Paul had me slide behind the wheel to get some practice driving in the icy conditions.

It was hard at first. The Jeep wanted to wiggle every time I pressed down on the brake, so I tried to just alternate between gently using the gas pedal and coasting. I was starting to feel a little more comfortable, just as red and blue lights lit up behind me. I’d been watching the road and not the speedometer, and had unknowingly been doing 40mph in a 30mph zone (and, a few hundred feet ahead of me, the speed limit increased to 45mph). The cop who pulled me over was a giant douche, lecturing me about weather conditions and cars in ditches. Whatever, asshole, I thought as I forked over my license and the registration. My vehicle is what yanks cars OUT of ditches. He wrote me the ticket, and Paul rejoiced that I’d managed to be pulled over in front of a full, heated restroom.

We resumed our Sunday drive, and had no more run-ins with the law. We pulled into a viewpoint that overlooked a river, and Paul snapped a few pictures. Then we took turns skidding the Jeep and spinning it out in circles on the icy, snow covered parking lot. That was good fun. When it was my turn, I tried to get in using the rockrails but they were solid ice. No problem, I reached up and grabbed the steering wheel and swung my leg up to pull myself in.

Rrrrriiiiipppp!!!

If you guessed that the sound was my jeans splitting at the seam, from thigh to crotch, you’d be right.

And if you guessed that Paul threw back his head and laughed at my plight, you’d also be right.

Damn cheap jeans. Nothing to make a girl feel fat like splitting her pants.

We headed home to make a yummy dinner of bacon-wrapped scallops, baked potatoes, and green beans. While we waited for dinner to cook, we watched a movie and drank Scarlett O’Haras (these are drinks made with Southern Comfort, cranberry juice, and lime juice).

Today it’s snowing harder at home, with weather reports predicting we’ll get anywhere from two to six inches before the storm blows through. Zumba has been cancelled, which bums me out because a lot of people from work were going to come. Ah well, we’ll all get together next week. I made delicious cupcakes with my new mixer. Half have cream cheese frosting, and the other half have peanut butter frosting.

It was interesting trying to get my baking supplies on a snowy day. I ventured out earlier this morning, before the storm had really gotten going. I quickly discovered that the roads don’t get plowed in Marysville. I watched two different accidents occur on my short trip to the store, and saw one older car just sitting in a ditch. People don’t seem to know how to drive in the snow and were skidding everywhere. I was relieved to get into the store.

After the grocery store I headed to Costco for cat litter and margarita mix. Cars were parked at crazy angles throughout the lot. Since the parking lines were still visible, I found snow a poor excuse to park like retards. People are stupid and lazy. I couldn’t be grumpy though, because it was snowing!

I made it home without incident to enjoy my baking and to do some laundry. Now, cupcakes are done, and I’m sipping hot coffee and relaxing. I’ll be glad when Paul’s home from work.

And now the dryer is beeping, so it’s time to get off my butt and fold towels.

This morning I finally woke up feeling truly better, for the first time in a week. I think this was partially because I went to bed by 7pm last night and didn’t emerge from sleep until 8:30am today. Sleep truly is the best medicine.

Since I had some energy for the first time in days, Paul and I decided to bundle up and go for a walk. This has become one of our favorite pasttimes on Sundays. We find a nice walking trail and explore it together, and afterwards we try a new gourmet cupcake place. Today we started our journey at Marymoor Park in Redmond. I love that park. We headed out on the Burke-Gilman trail, which is one of Paul’s favorites from childhood. We’ve done part of it, a couple of weeks ago, starting in Bothell and walking a little over two miles to Woodinville. The whole trail is huge: it’s eighteen miles long, beginning in Seattle and extending all the way to our starting point last time in Bothell, where it intersects with the Sammamish River Trail. It’s a great place to do some walking or biking. Today, we did four miles total. On our way back to the car, the sun even broke through the clouds. It was a beautiful walk. The fresh air helped me tremendously and I held up way better than I’d anticipated.

After our walk, in keeping with tradition, we drove into downtown Kirkland to try some fresh baked cupcakes. The bakery we went to is called Sweet Cakes. We got two cupcakes each: a mint and a Snickerdoodle flavored cupcake for me, and an Orangecicle and a peanut butter for Paul. We saved two and ate two (I ate mint, he had his Orangecicle). I looooved the mint and Sweet Cakes is my favorite place so far. Paul said that while the frosting on his really was like an orangecicle, he didn’t care for it in cupcake form. We’ll see what he thinks of his peanut butter.

After cupcakes we headed to Bellevue Square, as I wanted to go to Williams Sonoma. Lately I’ve been very into baking, and have created a batch of brownies that were inhaled at my office potluck and a batch of cupcakes that, while tasty, were not pretty. I have not yet figured out how to pipe icing correctly. At the store I found not only the book on cupcakes that I sought, but also a mechanical piping bag. I never knew such a thing existed, but I was intrigued and wanted it. I am now in possession of both my cookbook (bake book? cupcake book?) and the new device.

We left the mall and drove back to Kirkland, where we had hot peppermint mochas from Starbucks and sat by the waterfront, talking. The night was cold but crisp and I loved the fresh air.

Our final stop was back in Bellevue, at a restaurant called Earl’s. We’d eaten there in Canada and it was our favorite dining experience of the vacation. The one in Bellevue did not disappoint: we had fresh salads, superb filet mignon, buttery and garlicky mashed potatoes, and a variety of fresh grilled vegetables, including beets, which I have never been served in any other restaurant but enjoy heartily. The drink menu at Earl’s is also to die for, and Paul and I each allowed ourselves one martini. All in all, the meal was fabulous, and I tipped generously.

Even after all the day’s activities, I still feel pretty good, and I’m happy and relaxed. Today was just the kind of day I envisioned us having when we planned to move to Washington. Life is so amazing right now, I hope we are always this happy.

So it’s been a month since I started Zumba, and I’m getting good results in ways I never imagined. I haven’t dropped a lot of weight, I haven’t stuck to a strict diet, and I haven’t been miserable.

I’ve actually been having fun.

The first thing Nancy, my Zumba instructor, tells us at the beginning of each class is to listen to our own bodies. “Nobody knows your body like you do,” she says. After mulling that over though, I realized how little I really did know my own body. For my entire adulthood I’ve been struggling to put myself into what I think I should be: lean, thin, conforming to a cetain look and a predetermined number on the scale. I’ve been at war with my body for as long as I can remember. What got me to Zumba in the first place was my body’s utter rejection of my gym workouts and the realization that what I’d been doing wasn’t working.

Once I slowed down, I realized that I could actually pay attention to how I felt after certain activities or meals and see what works and what doesn’t. Zumba agrees with me. I love the upbeat dance moves and the sight of Nancy’s relentless smile as she leads us to push ourselves beyond our wildest dreams of what we could do. I also love the long walks Paul and I have been taking on our Sundays together. Fresh air is like a drug to me. I get out into the cool, fresh autumn air, and I inhale deeply and fill my lungs with that amazing fresh air and feel instantly happy.

As for food, when I actually pay attention I can tell what my body likes and what it doesn’t. Despite my love of the occasional cheeseburger and fries splurge, after eating that I realized that it made me feel tired, sluggish, and cranky. Pretty much anything greasy has this result. If I’m going to splurge, I’m better off following my sweet tooth. A cookie or a cupcake doesn’t bother me, as long as I keep it to just one. And fresh foods, salads and fresh veggies and lean meats, make my tummy happy.

Portions are also something I’ve revamped. I’ve been eating far less than my body wants for far too long. So now, if I’m hungry I eat a healthy snack, instead of waiting it out because it’s not one of my designated times to eat.

Maybe it’s that I’m not obsessing about what I’m eating for the first time in ages. Maybe it’s that I’ve found an exercise that doesn’t bore the hell out of me, that actually makes me feel good. But whatever it is, I feel better and stronger than I have in a really long time.

Not bad for only a month’s work.

Today started out less than pleasant for me. I tend to forget that things don’t agree with me, in this case vodka. As a result of this forgetfulness I treated myself to an indulgence of four raspberry lemon drops after dinner last night (yes, yes, in the safety of my own home where I wouldn’t be tempted to drive anywhere and where minimal mayhem could be caused). These drinks, although delicious and refreshing, with fresh squeezed lemon juice, turned out to be a bad judgement call. Around six-thirty this morning I woke up with a pounding headache, my head spinning. I got up to blow my nose, movement made me queasy, and I spent a good long while in the bathroom hurling. Once my system seemed clear of the vodka, I felt a bit better, and went back to bed for a couple hours. When I woke up, I didn’t feel one bit better, and was incredibly unhappy with myself for causing this self-inflicted agony. Strains of “The Worst Hangover Ever” by the Offspring rang in my achy head as I forced myself to eat a little oatmeal so I could take aspirin. Task accomplished, I dragged myself back upstairs and slept until eleven. By then, I was feeling a whole lot better, although Paul took great enjoyment in taunting me for my hangover and for my late sleeping.

The weather was rainy and very windy, but by afternoon the sun was breaking through and we decided to get out of the house. As we drove into Seattle, the sky opened up and rained on us some more, and the temperature was only 49 degrees. Brrr! Luckily the rain had pretty much stopped by the time we parked downtown, but the wind gusted and I felt like I would fall over as we stood waiting to cross the street. I didn’t mind it, though. It felt so good to be outside walking in the fresh air.

We ducked into Sur La Table, and Paul admired the expensive pots and pans like a kid in a candy store. He picked out a new pair of kitchen shears and I got myself a new coffee cup for my desk. After that, we headed down the street to Pike Place Market. It was the first time we’d been since moving up here. I went downstairs to the restroom and when I came back, Paul handed me an absolutely gorgeous bouquet of fresh flowers. “Here, I know you like stuff like this,” he said. I was so excited! I hardly ever get flowers, and flowers for no occasion at all, just because he loves me and wants to make me happy, are just the very best. I was beaming the whole time we walked through the market, holding my flowers proudly. When we got home I lovingly put them in my best vase and displayed them on the dresser in our room. I may have also taken several photos of them to post on Facebook. Just sayin.

We hung around downtown awhile longer, browsing in shops and talking. I love Sundays now. Since they are the only time Paul and I get together where one of us doesn’t have to work, they are special and we are making the most of them by spending time together. Everything seems to be going so incredibly well right now, I can hardly believe it. Paul and I are getting along great and having fun together, work’s been good, and of course I am loving the fall season and am super happy we are in Washington.

On the way home we stopped at a Tully’s in Woodinville and sat by the fireplace, sipping our lattes. I got my pumpkin spice latte, which is my fall favorite. The evening was simple but pleasant. We finished our coffee and headed home, stopping on the way at Haggen’s for our weekly groceries. We had dinner at Wendy’s because I was craving a cheeseburger (yes, I know that is not diet friendly food, but I lost three pounds by throwing up vodka, so I figure it’s okay).

With things going so well, I am calm and relaxed and feel really good.

I can’t pinpoint the moment in which I fully, consciously realized that there was something more to my nervousness than just normal daily stress. I can remember waking up in the middle of the night as if I’d just had a terrible nightmare – heart pounding, mouth dry, gasping for breath, sweating. The strange thing? I hadn’t had a bad dream at all. This continued for awhile, until finally I overheard women at work talking about similar symptoms, and their subsequent diagnosis with anxiety disorders. I’d never heard of such a thing, but with no other real way to solve my mystifying midnight mania, I made a doctor’s appointment and explained to my m.d. exactly what was going on. He explained that what I was experiencing were panic attacks, a result of my very own anxiety disorder, and he prescribed Xanax to ease my anxiety.

Fast-forward a year: I am usually okay without the meds, and I can pretty much talk myself down from anxiety on my own. I’ve learned things that trigger a calm response, like the scent of lavender, or certain music. I’ve determined that my (mild, I think) OCD is linked to the anxiety disorder. For the most part, this issue doesn’t affect anyone but myself, although it does get annoying to just have to double- triple- quadruple-check that I’ve shut the garage door, or replaced the gas cap, or remembered my cell phone. Seeing it once, apparently, is not enough for my brain. Other things, like the need to have everything organized, alphabetized, and orderly, can be a bit much for Paul at times. Although he is incredibly helpful and does not tease me, he also does not indulge me in my obsessive compulsive tendencies. When I ask him to vacuum the floor for the third time in a week, he looks me straight in the face and says, “no, it doesn’t need it again” (this only happened once, and no, I was not happy about it). I grudgingly admit that working out has a very calming effect on me and that since I started Zumba, I have been doing a lot better.

So, what got me thinking about all this? It certainly wasn’t anything bad that happened today. Paul and I both impulsively called and asked for vacation days at work. Our bosses generously allowed us the day off. We had lunch at Panda Express and then headed to Seattle to walk all the way around Green Lake. The distance is only 2.8 miles and we completed the walk in about an hour. It was the perfect way to spend the afternoon. The sun was shining down on us, a breeze kept things cool and comfortable, and we talked and teased each other as we walked around. After our walk, we headed to Trophy Cupcakes to get a treat. Gourmet cupcakes are my new favoritest indulgence, having had a mint chocolate one in Vancouver that just made me sooo happy. After cupcakes we finished the afternoon relaxing together, Paul napping and me finishing a book I’ve been reading (“In Her Shoes” by Jennifer Weiner, love her). The day finished with Paul making me steak, green beans, and rice for dinner and settling in to watch “Family Guy” and play on our laptops.

It was the perfect day, and it certainly did not cause me any anxiety. That, to me, is an improvement. Not too long ago, I would get nervous and irritable and could even spoil a really good day with my exaggerated views on, well, whatever was getting blown out of proportion in my head. I’m glad that I can have days like this now, where there are no demands placed on me, where I can just relax and enjoy the place I live in and the wonderful boyfriend who loves me even when I do act like an anxious crazy person.

I know that my anxiety disorder is not something that will ever fully go away. I do feel, though, like I have gotten a lot of control over it in the last year, and that I understand myself a lot better.

Last week, I decided to kick off the month of October by focusing on losing some of the excess weight I’ve put on since moving to the Northwest earlier this year. Overall, I’d say I had mixed success with my first week of true weight-loss efforts. I did lose one pound, so I’m at a good start. My friend and coworker Angela has been trying to get me to go to her Zumba class for months now, and I finally agreed to go even though “coordinated” will never be the first word that comes to anyone’s mind when describing me. To my own surprise, I actually love Zumba. It’s so fun! The dance moves aren’t so challenging that I can’t figure them out, and following the steps and listening to the music is a great distraction from the fact that I’m working out. I was so instantly hooked, that I ended up staying and taking a second class. That was great, but two back-to-back Zumba classes left me so sore I was only able to drag my lazy ass to the gym again once this week.

I have a new focus on my diet, too. That part was instigated by a trainer at my gym. I complained to her about my struggles and we went over what I eat together. Then she reprimanded me for the food choices I make, and outlined what I should be eating to get successful results (she was also pretty anti-Zumba, but I think that’s more because it’s the hot exercise right now and she’s losing customers to it whether or not it actually works). After my lone gym workout with her, I headed straight to the grocery store to buy the suggested new foods. At the checkout, I paid for chocolate flavored protein powder for shakes, baby carrots, a cucumber, and some string cheese. The idea is that instead of snacking on hundred calorie packs, which are still full of carbs, I’d eat my veggies and the little cheese.

For breakfast, I’m having a protein shake and some low-sugar oatmeal. Morning snack is carrots, afternoon snack is cucumber slices and string cheese. For lunch I have those frozen Healthy Choice Steamers meals. Dinner is whatever Paul cooks, which lately has been a lot of chicken, fish, and salad.

The protein shake has been the hardest thing to, er, swallow. The first morning, I added the powder to some milk. It was grainy and didn’t desolve all the way, so I was less than thrilled. The next morning we didn’t have any milk, so I added the stuff to water. Oh. My. Lord. That. Is. Some. Nasty. Shit. Do not try this method unless your taste buds are completely dead or you feel the need to punish yourself for some dastardly deed. So this morning I finally got the shake, if not right, at least much better. I got some frozen raspberries at the grocery store last night and threw them, the powder, and the milk into the blender. The only issue I’ve had with this is that the mixture needs to be consumed rather quickly, as if it sits it sorta develops a weird consistency.

Although my first week wasn’t fabulous for workouts, this week I will improve. Tomorrow, I will attend both Zumba classes and hopefully I can stagger into the gym Tuesday morning. I rearranged my schedule on Wednesdays so that I can make the night Zumba class. And soon the gym at work will be opening up, so Angela and I will work out on my lunch hour together. If I can keep losing a pound a week, I’ll be satisfied (although more would be awesome), and I think I can probably step it up to two pounds a week once I’m not struggling to move after the increased activity.

I think this can actually be done.

We’re back from Canada and I must say, I adore that place! I do not love it as I do Seattle (I don’t think anywhere else will ever own my affections as Seattle does) but Canada was a very fresh, different experience, and makes me yearn to plan more international vacations, so that I might immerse myself in different cultures.

On the night we arrived in Vancouver, the street our hotel is on was blocked off with police tape. We drove around the block, taking in the fire trucks and hazmat team. Finally, Paul found a place to park in an underground parking garage (the stench suggested that our parking spot probably doubled as a homeless person’s bathroom) and walked to the edge of the commotion to learn what was going on.

Canadian police are actually pretty nice, as long as you don’t cross their caution tape. We got to witness one man doing this, and the subsequent yelling at him by a slender female police officer. Just as quickly as she’d been authoritive and sort of loud, she turned to us and became professional, polite, and geniunely sympathetic. She explained that there had been a chemical fire in a neighboring building and that it was evacuated indefinitely. With nothing else to do, we walked to a nearby restaurant for appetizers and drinks. The place we hit on was called Cactus Club. It features a fabulous menu and, on that particular evening, was the host of a wedding reception. Paul’s mom and I enjoyed taking in the dresses of the partygoers.

We did finally get checked into the condo, and I fell asleep that night with the curtains open, enjoying the view of the city lights from my floor-to-ceiling window. The next day we visited Grandville Island, formerly known as Industrial Island. It’s a market similar to Pike Place, with fresh breads, candies, produce, and souveniers. We wandered the market and took everything in. After lunch, we chose fresh salmon, a lovely sourdough bread as well as assorted cheese breads, vegetables for salad, and the most amazing fruit tart that I’ve ever had in my life to take back to the condo for dinner.

While in Vancouver, we also took a trip to Stanley Park to take pictures and enjoy being outdoors on a sunny day. That afternoon we piled into the car and drove up to Whistler, where the Olympics were held. I would love to take the drive to Whistler again in a few weeks, when all the leaves have turned orange for fall. The town was picturesque and I loved it. Poor Paul got a parking ticket (we did pay for parking, but he entered my license plate number wrong), so we were given the experience of visiting the Canadian parking authority. The woman behind the counter took our receipt and promised to handle the ticket. I am still amazed at how easy it was to take care of the issue.

While in Vancouver we discovered Earl’s, a hip and yummy upscale restaurant that just happens to also have a location in Bellevue. The food was delicious! We dined at Earl’s twice in Vancouver, and a third time for lunch once we reached Victoria.

On Wednesday we took the ferry boat to Nanaimo, which really does not get the attention it deserves as being a great place for a vacation. That town is beautiful! We had a nice walk along the shore, through a park. We got to see fish, crabs, and starfish. I liked Nanaimo and would definitely spend time there again. After a lunch of fish and chips (delicious, but waaaay too greasy!) we drove to Victoria. Our arrival there was anticlimatic compared to the one in Vancouver, which suited all of us just fine. We purchased two day tickets for a hop on, hop off bus tour and spent the first day checking out downtown Victoria.

On Friday, we had breakfast at a diner and then went to tour Butchart Gardens. To anyone who likes botany or gardening, I highly recommend this place. Even on the gray, rainy day that we toured the gardens, it was a fantastic experience. The original garden was built in a rock quarry. From that, designer Jennie Butchart developed an Italian Garden, a Rose Garden, and a Japanese Garden. There’s a carousel and a stage for summer outdoor performances. The gardens also host a summertime fireworks display. I loved it and we got some beautiful photos of the gardens.

Saturday, Paul and I had planned on going out kayaking, but the owners of the rental booth were gone until October. Dismayed, we got lattes at a local coffee shop and instead went to Oak Bay Marina. I wanted to visit the marina because the bus tour promised that it was a popular place to spot seals. None appeared, but I did find a shot glass for Paul at the gift shop! From there we took the bus to Mile Zero on the bus tour and walked through Beacon Hill Park. The park is immense and features beautiful gardens, a play area for kids, and a giant totem pole. I loved the park and could have spent the whole day there. Finally, we were too hungry to keep exploring and walked back downtown for lunch.

The trip was wonderful! Obviously I haven’t detailed every minute of the vacation, but these were some of the unusual things, as well as my favorite highlights. I’m relaxed and ready to rejoin the working class, at least until our next vacation!

Hey look! It’s me!!

Typing!!

In my blog!!

I know there hasn’t been a lot of that lately, and that anything I have posted may or may not have been, arguably, substantial. I’m living my life, I’m just not taking the time to actually write about it. Which I am going to try to turn over a new leaf and correct.

Again.

Not that anyone ever promises to reopen a neglected blog.

Ever.

Okay, so anyhoo, that said, life has been really busy. I’m on loan for six months out of sales, on what is called the Fios Jeop Desk. In layman’s terms, this means that I take orders that need changing rightthisverysecond or fix ones that have something wrong with them, like wrong address or something else mildly important. I’ve been there a month and am loving the feeling of loving my job.

I also just completed my second course toward my bachelor’s degree. I don’t like school. If it weren’t for the stigma of being a dropout (again) I would probably quit because it’s nonsense. Bachelor’s degree programs at my college require group activities and projects, which I have already stated I feel is stupid because I’m taking online courses specifically because I don’t have time to rely on other people to do work. In my last class the final project was a PowerPoint presentation, which was frusterating because my teammates had no freaking clue how to use PowerPoint. This I find incredulous. I certainly don’t expect everyone to know how to use it, but I do expect students who had to complete several presentations before they earned their Associate’s degrees to have a firm grip on the fundamentals. My classes now are only five weeks long and I feel I could really take two at a time, except that I don’t have the patience to deal with two different learning teams at a time. As it goes right now I’m staggering my classes, taking a month off between each one. I didn’t actually plan this, but I took July off because we had multiple little trips planned and I didn’t want to worry about schoolwork, and I’m taking September off for our vacation to Canada.

So yes, I have been busy.

Today was my first day off by myself since I went on the Jeop Desk. I got up early to take the Azera in for an oil change, since it’s the car we’re taking on vacation. I was pleased that there was no wait at Grease Monkey and even more pleased when they accomplished the oil changing in under twenty minutes. I was less than pleased, however, when I walked out through the rain to my car and found that they’d left the driver’s side window down. Nice, guys. No, no, a little water never hurt anything, but that doesn’t mean I want today’s showers scattered all over my leather interior. Fail, Grease Monkey.

Other than that, today was pleasant. I got my hair cut (too short, by Paul’s standards apparently) and had a nice pedicure. I got some new clothes for our trip and am sort of ready to go back to work tomorrow.

After all, I’m actually going to a job I like.

On the off chance that anyone cares about what I’m reading or what I recommend, I am making a summer must-read list with some of my favorites. All books have made me abandon real life in order to sit and read for hours on end. Enjoy!

The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. The story is told by lab terrier mix Enzo, who tells about his life with his master Denny, who risks his life savings to follow his dream of racing. The book has a happy ending (promise!) and really brings home the feeling of the bond between man and dog.

Leaving Unknown by Kerry Reichs. After Maeve Connolly gets fired from her job, she decides to load up her pet bird and drive from east coast to west, stopping in towns along the way with particularly unusual names. She breaks down in Unknown Arizona and by the time she can afford her car repairs, she’s developed relationships with the town’s quirky residents and longs to stay, but feels she must complete the trip she started and move on to L.A. I liked it not just because of what a different story it is, but also because Maeve’s bird is named Oliver, which made me think of my kitty (and if Oliver could talk, I bet his mouth would be every bit as foul as the bird’s).

Augusta, Gone by Martha Todd Dudman. This true story is incredibly heart-wrenching, even to me who does not have kids yet. Dudman writes about her teen daughter’s descent into drugs and overall crazy behavior, until she finally hits the breaking point and sends Augusta away to get help. Even though I was by no means as out of control as Augusta, it really gave me insight as to how my mom must have felt as she dealt with the more difficult parts of my adolescence.

Bitter Harvest by Ann Rule. This is another true story, a chilling account of Dr Debra Green and how she murdered two of her three children in a house fire in 1995 in Prairie Village, Kansas. Prior to writing about the fire itself, Rule writes about the troubled marriage of Green and Dr Mike Farrar, Green’s brilliant mind, and her childlike mental state despite a through-the-roof IQ. Not a light read, but gripping.

I’ll add to this as I read more. Happy reading!

When I was 19, I went shopping at the Ontario Mills Mall with my friend Jen. Among the stores we browsed was Skechers, where we fell in love with what we would deem our “shiiiiny shoes” (you have to draw it out when you say it). They were white sneakers with two shiny colored stripes on each side. Mine were blue, Jenn’s were gray. Of course, my shiiiny shoes are long dead, as I am murder on white sneakers.
But now, I have new ones.
Saturday was cold, rainy, and boring, so I found myself in the Lady Foot Locker at the Everett Mall. I was actually there because I’d glimpsed a pair of pink Adidas earlier in the week and was thinking I needed to own them. Much to my disappointment, the pink shoes I’d sought were not nearly as cute up close and I didn’t really want them.
And that’s when I spotted them….the shiiiiny shoes.
Adidas makes a very similar style of shoe as my old Skechers, but sports three colored stripes each side instead of two. They are called Adidas Superstars and I loved them in high school. But on Saturday in Foot Locker, I found the ONLY shiny silver ones I’d ever seen. I was thrilled. And they were on sale, so of course I just had to have them.
I love my new shiiiiny shoes. If I weren’t poor as all hell I would buy Jenn a pair so she could have shiiiny shoes again too.