Ah, so last weekend really wasn't all it could have been, but it was more than what it could have been at the same time. Eh?

Anyhow, I finished my sweater. Yay for me. Pics:

Yeah, the sun is in my eyes, so I look all squinty.


Again, quite squinty.
So that's all for today, really. Nothing much more to say.

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I wax painfully at the cut on my finger. It’s been there for 1 whole day. It’s really such a little cut, I see no reason for it to be there at all. One should have faster-magic epidermis so that one can get over smallish-paper-like cuts faster. However, one does not.

The rest of the day will come and the weekend will follow shortly. After that, weeks go by, then months, then years. Is time speeding up as I grow older. I take that back, I’m not growing older, I’m shrinking older, as that’s the type I’d much rather be.

Reading Miss Angelina’s posts have gotten me all poetic and thoughtful. I guess that’s really why I read her. Her blog. Hmmm. And now that she’s gone and gotten some comments going, I can pretend I talk to her all the time and she’s my best friend who lives in San Francisco (my second-favorite city in the world) and she says things like “deluxe” and means it; how if I ever did that, I would just sound like a lameass and how she’s much better and more realistic than my other pretend friends. Then I can go on about how I wish I was somewhere with cool fascinating people, and of course I would be telling this to my “rl” friends, and they would just have to shove me in a trashcan and leave me there for a while. But then again, maybe I’ll just sit quietly in the corner and think about the cut on my finger.

My mind isn’t being made up at all. I feel as if I’m standing at a crossroads where one path has a sign stating “Left” and the other “?” and I’m just not ready for that kind of commitment. Of course, I have been making quite a few commitments lately. I like my gung fu dojo so much I actually signed on for a year. I figure that’s okay, as my cell phone contract is for 2 years, and I’m paying my car off this month. Why must I expand my living to fill my means? Am I fucking nuts?

In other news, I think I may just have to go see “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” this weekend. I’ve been looking forward to it.

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I was in the shittiest mood during the past couple of days. Faux-pas included:

Bawling out my v. good B. who so didn’t deserve it.
Being v. v. irritable and huffing and puffing around work (includes stomping).
Being a general bitch to pretty much everybody.
Near-crying at work many times.
Crying at home for no apparent reason.
Wanting to kick someone. Anyone.

I really have nothing to attribute any of this to, and I think that that may be the thing that made me so v. annoyed with everything.

So I’m feeling much better now, which I think actually has to do with exercise. I went to my first gung fu lesson last night to discover that not only am I not a badass, but I’m horrible with coordination. If you’ve ever tried to learn dancing from someone by just watching, you might be able to feel my pain when I say that I looked like a dumbass. I’m okay with it, though, as I’m assuming that that’s what one is going to look like when trying to pick up a bodily art form like martial arts after a 12 year hiatus.

Thankfully, I remember most of the stuff I learned last night, and I will be going back tomorrow night for the next lesson. Tonight at the gym, I hope to practice a bit on the movement and the different steps taught to me while trying to look less like an idiot.

Since the lesson seemed to go well, and I liked the instructors, I’m thinking that I am indeed going to sign up for this dojo. I haven’t even seen the cost, which could be devastating, but I’m thinking it’s going to be rather inexpensive, if they’re going by the prices other places are fronting when accepting new recruits. Will let you know when that happens as well.

Life on the home front could be less boring, if I was actually into trying. The trip for Australia has been planned, and I have gotten the vacation time to go at the end of August. The unfortunate thing is that I have 3 really really good friends leaving for lands abroad at the same time, just days before I return to the states. This could very well be a problem. Most likely, once they leave this summer, I will rarely see them again, as when they return to the states, they’re all planning on moving to New England. I haven’t a clue where I’ll be at that time, but I just hope we don’t all lose each other in life and whatnot. I know that sometimes communication just breaks up, and that isn’t necessarily bad, it’s just that these 3 people have been such huge parts of my life for the past 4 + years. They’re the center on which friendships with other people stand.

I guess we’ll just have to have a kickass party before I leave for OZ. *Sigh*
Anyone? Bueller?

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So when did adding a jesus fish to one's signature on company emails suddenly become appropriate?

I really haven't anything interesting to say. Life has been full and busy and I really haven?t had the time to think about much, even when I should be thinking about writing in here.

Sunday was spent carousing and shopping. Looking for technical books (especially on citrix) can be a big pain in the ass around here. Border's is usually my first choice, but when they didn't have what I needed, I was forced to walk over to Barnes and Noble (yes, the area's 2 largest bookstores are indeed across a parking lot from each other) to purchase the book there. On the way back to Border's to get the B, I slipped into CompUSA to ogle some of the toys I would love to have, but can't afford. I had barely touched the mouse on the new G5 when a v. creepy voice asked me if I needed help. I did, in fact, so I asked for some technical manuals (none of which they had, of course), and unfortunately gave Mr. CompUSA-creepy-pants an excuse to talk to me.

He wasn't horrible, but he was creepy in the way that only geeks can be creepy. However, it would be a sin to call anyone working at CompUSA an actual geek, as they're just more like losers. And I know I will definitely get flamed (<- ooh, old-school) for even saying this, but it's my prerogative, and I'm sticking by it. These people are not geek chic (like me, duh), they're geek goobers.

So Mr. Lame starts puffing himself up like a farking techno-peacock as I slowly edged away. As soon as I was out of eye-line, I shot right out of that store, and back into the arms of my non-geek boy. The hott(t)est thing in the store was an iPod mini in pink.

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When I was little:

I thought that white chocolate was just normal chocolate without the brown coloring.
I pretended that Joey McIntyre had my personal telephone number and called me nightly and he was my boyfriend and loved me v. v. much.
I kissed Wil Wheaton goodnight (every night) for at least 3 years.
I wanted to marry Jean-Claude Van Damme (until I realized that I had outgrown him circa 1991).
I sat on the roof of my house without fear.
I jumped off v. large rocks into v. swift rivers without fear.
I was envious of those who got junk food in their lunches.
I read more than I played.
I dreamed of having a purple Geo Storm to drive around in.
I wanted to be president.
I wanted the world at my feet.
I wanted to be Elizabeth Wakefield.
I hated being the tallest person in my class.
I was teased intolerably at school.
I cheated while playing board and card games.
I wanted to have braces.*
I broke into the Mormon Church behind my house, just to see what it was like inside.
I made up stories and wrote them down.
I had it easy

* All the girls with braces I knew were pretty. I never had to have braces, as my teeth were perfectly straight.

As an aside, I got the call from the State St. dojo at home last night. I've decided to try it out, and if I like it, I'll join there, instead of the Latah St. dojo, as the Latah St. dojo has members that I really really don't like. Update on the kung-fu mastah (that would be me) next Wednesday.

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So, just to post some kind of update here, I haven’t heard anything from the dojo yet, and haven’t been proactive enough to call them myself. It seems to be the intended way of things, as I ran out of money far too quickly this month anyhow. I figure I’ll contact another dojo in town at the beginning of April when I get paid. After thinking about the dojo on State St. (the one with the free trial or whatever that I signed up for), I have pretty much decided against joining there, as the traffic there isn’t all that great. Also, I found our about the other dojo that just happens to be closer to my house, and, as a plus, they have their prices and everything online, so that may just be the thing for me.

I’ve been really horrible about going to the gym for a while with really no excuse. The B and I had a wonderful first bike ride of the year last Sunday, where my cruiser made its debut. It’s the most comfortable bike I’ve ridden in a really long time.

Spring has pretty much sprung around here, but I’m still unimpressed with the lack of leaves and flowers. Patience with the weather has never been a strength of mine, and I have made a promise to myself to live somewhere that has spring for at least half of the year within 2 years.

I am currently waiting with bated breath for a magical deposit (!) from the government (!!) to appear in my bank account. With this magical money, I shall pay off my car and purchase plane tickets to Michigan for a trip planned for this summer. The B and I will be making a pilgrimage to the land of my grandparents and great-grandparents, along with my mother, to visit the extended family, most of which I haven’t seen in over 7 years. One of the many many reasons to be able to wear a bathing suit without feeling horrible is the lake my grandmother lives on. Sparkling, it comes with a bit of a beach, a dock complete with a speed boat, and a floater to sunbathe on. This will be the longest actual vacation I’ve taken in years, a total of 8 days.

I haven’t been to my grandmother’s house since I was 12, which happens to be the last time I saw all of the extended fam. The last time I saw my grandmother herself was 1997, circa green-haired Devlyn. She called my choice of hair color “festive.” I miss the fam terribly, and cannot wait to spend time with all of them. Also planned is a customary side-trip to Mackinac Island, to which I’ve been too many times for me to remember, but each time is better than the last.

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So the B and I went to see the Glenn Miller Orchestra perform last night at the Morrison Center. Indeed, we both love Glenn Miller’s musical arrangements, and the way that it is generally so upbeat and happy. We own plenty of phonograph records (yes, yes, we're record geeks) that we listen to on a fairly regular basis, and we’re pretty comfortable with his work and the repertoire the band was used to.

I have to say I was a bit disappointed. I also have a feeling that Glenn himself would roll over in his presumptuously watery grave if he knew about this.

Some of the members of the band were fabulous. Others were at least good. However, on more than one song, it just didn’t seem like they were all together – like the music was strained or they weren’t comfortable with what they were playing. The vocalists had no style, though they were good.

We stayed until intermission, but decided to leave then. I had come to hear one of my faves, “Chattanooga Choo-Choo,” which I ended up being disappointed hearing, as it was lackluster. We went to eat at Chili’s instead of staying for the rest of the show.

It may be rather Seinfeldian of me, but what’s up with recognition applause? I dig applause in and of itself, and I dig applause after a performer does a solo. But when a song is performed that’s a popular tune, people seem to think, “ooh…. Oh! I know this song!!!” *insert clapping wildly, along with whistling after listening to the first few bars*. And seeing how at least 80% of the audience held social security checks in their sweaty little hands, one would think that the audience would be a little more…well… refined.

Then again, this is Boise, Idaho.

On another aside, as I was waiting for the B outside of Chili’s before departing, I had a thought that comes to me every once in a while that shocks me right out of my socks. What in the hell am I still doing here? I don’t really like Boise. I’ve never liked Boise. The air quality here sucks. The small-town mindset of the city council and majority of the population sucks. The proximity of anything I enjoy doing at least partially sucks. Granted, Boise does have some things going for it, but 75% of everything here sucks. The gleaning of an awesome job and low living rates keeps me here for the time being. Oh what I would give to have the money to move….

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So for the past 2 years or so, I’ve been thinking a lot about joining a local dojo to start taking kung fu lessons again. Mind you, I was in a kung fu dojo for about 2 years, circa 1990, and have not sparred since. So on Saturday, when the boy and I were heading out to Eagle to get his hair cute, I saw a new kung fu place had opened right there on State St. I was v. excited, as most of the karate places around here are of the other sorts, i.e. tai chi or whatever. The only other kung fu dojo I knew of was on Chinden in Garden Shitty City, in an old run-down building. So I pretty much made up my mind right then and there in the car to call up the place to see what’s going on.

Lo and behold, when we reached the barber’s in Eagle, I noticed a drawing box on the counter. You know, one of those little punch-out cardboard boxes with a slot in the top commonly used for drawings or signing up for gyms at odd places. Only this one was for the exact same aforementioned kung fu dojo on State St. Of course, it was kismet. I hurriedly filled out a form, slipped it in the slot, and am anxiously awaiting a phone call from them. The form said that I would get 4 weeks free, but I know enough to have the money to purchase a gi and whatnot.

I’m just really really excited about this prospect. A year ago I may not have filled out the form or taken steps to actually be a part of this, but now I feel like I’m ready to take on something new. I won’t kid myself: this will be hard, but well worth it. I know that I will most likely get horribly sore after the first few sessions. I’m actually quite looking forward to it.

I badly need a change from the gym. My visits are becoming more like sentences, and I rarely actually want to go. I still force myself, and I realize that it’s all worth the effort, but it’s just not fun. I’ve never really liked going to the gym, even though it makes me feel good eventually. The cardio section of my workout consists of dull repetitive motions, even when I’m doing intervals. I barely put it up with weight training. I know I need to do something; I’ve even thought of actually taking up jogging, and I’m in no way a jogger or runner.

I’ll let you know how it goes once I get into it. I highly suggest to anyone trying to release extra poundage to get into a physical activity that you like. Everyone is different (uhm, duh), but even taking a stroll around the block or riding your bike on the weekends helps a bit. I wish I had a friend that would have fun going with me, but most of my friends are far too interested in not working out at all, or just not paying the extra money. Maybe it will be good to have something I can really get into myself.

I’m so fucking excited.

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just too tired to really write anything this early. so, since i actually liked today's friday five, we'll for a little of that:

What was...

1. ...your first grade teacher's name?
Fuck if I can remember that. Pffft.

2. ...your favorite Saturday morning cartoon?
I always liked Thundercats and the Disney cartoons. Wasn’t so big into the Warner Bros. empire until I could really understand the jokes, so I must have been around 20 or so. Didn’t like Voltron, but I did like She-Ra. Then again, altogether, I really didn’t watch that much teevee when growing up. Hmph.

3. ...the name of your very first best friend?
Su-san. 1st grade, Laurelwood Elementary school in the south bay. I think I called her Susan for quite a while before she set me straight. How embarrassing.

4. ...your favorite breakfast cereal?
Nutri-grain with almonds in it and Shredded wheat. We didn’t have junk food in the house. Not that I really missed it, but when I went to my friends’ houses to spend the night, I always looked forward to the next morning when we could gorge on Coco-Puffs or Honey Grahams. After my first bowl, the sugar rush would be so bad I would want to puke. I don’t know how anyone (everyone) got through their childhoods eating sugary cereal. It just doesn’t seem like a v. good idea to me.

5. ...your favorite thing to do after school?
I always just liked to go to people’s houses. They had the siblings, the toys, and the sugary after-school snacks. I wasn’t really big on having anyone at my house, as I always thought they might be using me for something. After my mom had a little talk with me when I was around 9, I realized that the girl across the street and the carnies that lived next to her only hung out at my house so they could swim in our pool. So yeah, going to other peoples’ houses was a way to make sure I wasn't the one that was taken advantage of. Or something like that.

wake me when the day is over.

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Once in a great while, life slows down just enough for one to be nearly able to grasp time. This obviously hasn’t happened to me in a v. long time. It seems every year just gets shorter and time speeds up to an incredible pace, faster than the movement of the earth, faster than the speed of light. Even last Saturday, when all I did was knit and watch movies, the day struck in a blinding flash of light and was quickly gone. I grieved for its loss for 5 minutes, then went to bed.

When I was younger, I couldn’t wait for days to end. Going through the days at school and looking forward to weekends and holidays propelled me through my years in elementary as well as higher learning, These holidays went quickly, of course, but the start of school thrilled me as well and got me back into a structured schedule, something which I had missed while on vacation. Holidays were filled with play: riding my bike with friends all over town, spending nights curled up on the trampoline in the backyard, swimming in anything that held water, making up swim-dances with Courtney to entertain my family, enjoying youth. It seems that I have come to the conclusion that youth is indeed wasted on the young. I’m sure when I get older, I’ll look back at these years in my mid-20’s and think the same thing.

The boy will be making his appearance again in my life, returning from hiatus in NYC and Egypt today. Though it feels as if he’s been gone for a year, the time has gone by quickly. I had a lot of fun with friends and going out and having time to just do what I wanted to do without thinking about anyone else but the cat. I was able to eat exactly what I wanted when i wanted, which included meals of just salmon and broccoli, or (last night) meatballs and asparagus. The meatballs burnt the hell out of the top of my mouth. It still stings.

I missed my boy a lot. When he was gone, I wasn’t able to expect anyone to be happy when I came home (except the cat). I had no one warm to sleep with. I had no one to cuddle with on the couch, no one to mark the improvement and length of my sweater every 5 minutes, no one to take out the garbage for me, and no one to distract the cat when she’s needling my bare knees.

The boy arrives at 16.10, and I’ll be there to pick him up with a smile on my face.

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So, first things first: my mom rocks. Like literally rocks.

The 'crew' and I went to see my mom perform at the ol' Blues Bouquet last Friday night, and I can tell you that I am the daughter of a most talented mom. It's amazing how she commands a crowd and how she can slap the boys in her band into action. She knocks people over without looking guilty; she takes no names and she leaves broken hearts in her wake. I'm awfully glad she's my mom.

my mom, the siren
So, just going to the Bucket proved to be as intoxicatingly entertaining as the band. People-watching in a Blues bar in Boise really can be fun. The performance of the ever-increasingly drunk crowd almost outdid my mom's awesome vocals. We laughed almost the point where we cried. So, if you were at the Blues Bouquet last Friday night, and just happened to set foot on the dance floor, this one's for you:

Ms. Pink Sweater was all about the dancing. She was one of the first ones on the floor, which can be really daunting at times, especially when the place really wasn?t that hopping yet. When not on the dance floor, she was sitting at a table full of what was presumably (and presumptuously) frat boys in their early 20s. The unfortunate thing was that she kept bringing dragging these boys to the floor, trying to get them to do anything but sit there and drink. None of them were v. cooperative until they were at least 3 pitchers in. Moving their bodies was obviously v. v. uncomfortable, and they tried to kind of move their knees a bit instead of following Ms. Pink Sweater, who was rockin' her groove. Here?s to you and your shaking booty, Ms. Pink Sweater. You rocked, and we all felt a little sad for you. Next time, leave the frat boys at home, and just have fun.

Ms. Skinny Legs was in a much better position, as it looked like she was there with her significant other. She was in a gauze-type dress with thick black tights. I think she may have been at least halfway drunk by the time she came to dance, as was the man she was dancing with. As she spun this way and that, her dress started to come unzipped, and had come down at least halfway before she realized that the top half of her dress was coming off. It was cool, though? her partner was Mr. Striped Sweater, who was beyond the painful body-moving stage the frat boys were at? though he was at least in his mid-40s, he was hopping and jumping and throwing his body about. His specialty was tossing his body back and doing the stereotypical "white-boy" dance, which was best left back in the '70s.

A girl I went to high school with also ended up showing up. For some reason, I want to call her Olivia, mostly because she looks like an Olivia - fair-skinned with dark tightly curly hair framing her face. Her name most likely wasn't Olivia. I didn't talk to her, but she just happened to be dancing with someone that could have been her father. And hopefully he was.

As the frat boys got more and more inebriated, they loosened up to the point where they were having fun. One even went up to my mom a few times to thank her for playing, and kissed her hand. It totally grossed me out.

In other news, my dear friend Sara, in an attempt to use my bank?s new downtown ATM, accidentally withdrew $300. She even screamed at the poor machine, trying to make it stop after hitting the incorrect button 3 times. So really, Sara should have purchased the drinks, non? Well, she didn?t. Bitch. Here she is with her happy withdrawal:

and how she felt after the ATM gave her all of that money:

aw, poor sara.

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