Would it be wrong to say I miss hurricanes?
I think it would. I don't quite mean I miss hurricanes, as much as I mean I miss watching them progress, but hoping there wouldn't be mass destruction. I guess, I could say I miss having more diverse weather, that's more euphemistic and PC. Here in San Diego, the weather is pretty spectacular, but we get very spoiled and complain if it's a little cool when we want to go to the beach. If it's humid and hot and we are just laying around the house and can't catch a breeze because a large portion of the population doesn't have air conditioning. It hasn't rained in forever here. Our landing is kind of falling apart, the plaster is crumbling off the wood supports, and today, when the FP stepped on the bottom step, the concrete on the edge broke off completely. I think everything is so dry it's deteriorating in the heat.
Going back to my childhood, I remember huge rainstorms and having the power go out for hours. It was fun. We would stumble around looking for the emergency candles and votives and light them. We would each get a candle to carry around, even though I was young. I always loved playing with fire, so that was part of my excitement. I remember watching some sitcom when I was little in which they had to eat the ice cream when the power went out. I think power outages meant eating ice cream while holding a candle to me.
The next day, I would walk to the bus stop, and inevitably the street would be a lake. I thought that was neat too. I would walk around the edge and slowly stick my foot farther and farther into the middle to see how deep it was.
I haven't lived too much of my life around snow, but one of my most memorable days in Boston was the April 1st snow storm. The whole city was pretty much shut down. Pretty much. I didn't go into work, because I assumed it was shut down. I got a call from my boss asking where I was. He was cool about it, but he basically went in just to open the door for me so I could count inventory. My friends and I just trudged around downtown and went bar hopping. That was a great day.
When we moved to New Orleans, there was weather galore. Sometimes after a long steady rain the streets would be flooded, and I would be driving down a street wondering if I should turn around or risk driving further down the river. If you have ever driven in water, it's a scary feeling, because you're steering, but you can feel the car float, and you don't want to take your foot off the gas pedal, whatever you do.
Whenever there were hurricane warnings, everyone asked everyone else if they were evacuating. We never did. Too much of a hassle, we didn't have the money, we didn't know if our cars could idle on the interstate that long in all that traffic without conching out, we didn't want to travel with 2 freaked out cats, and we didn't want to miss out.....
There. I said it. One time, we were in Pennsylvania when a storm system was headed to New Orleans. Our flight home was scheduled on the eve of the hurricane. The FP's parents were trying to force us to stay there, but we couldn't get stuck in Pennsylvania and not be able to get back to our cats. So, our flight connected in Atlanta, but of course it was cancelled by the time we got in. So, we rented a car and drove back. That was the most empty drive on an interstate ever. There was some traffic going east. But no one, NO ONE, was headed our way. When we got in town, it was like a ghost town. The storm jogged east, I think, and we sat on the front porch and played guitar. There was not one drop of rain, but some pretty strong wind.
There was a tropical storm one night that was pretty bad. Once again though, we sat on our front porch and watch the rain blow in sideways, and the transformers blow out, one by one. It was like fireworks. It turned out, that our friends who lived across the street from us were also on their porch watching the storm. It was so black out though, that we couldn't even see each other.
I won't go into Katrina. If you know me, which most of you do, you know that we stayed in New Orleans for the storm, and we left the day after.
And here we are in San Diego now. The whole east coast is preparing for this Irene character. I'm going to come out and say it, I kinda feel left out. I know that's wrong. But I'm just being truthful. She seems to be falling apart, Irene, but you have to be prepared, right? She could reform. Anyway, If 77mph winds hit a city like New York, there could be some damage. There are probably some old buildings that aren't hurricane safe up the east coast. Lots of plants and tree branches could blow around like flying weapons. I don't want anyone to think I don't feel for these people and hope no one's hurt and damage is minimal. Waiting for storms is a big interruption and a loss of income even if it doesn't hit. They are a big pain in the ass no matter what happens.
It's been hot and humid today. The HOA in our complex was replacing the hot water heaters today, so there was a notice that the water would be cut off all day today. I had filled the brita pitcher to the brim, and I filled two pitchers for miscellaneous water in the kitchen. In the bathtub, I filled a little garbage can with water for flushing. Of course, they only had the hot water off all day. Most of the day we've had water.
We've had CNN on all afternoon. We took a long nap with the blinds flapping in the light breeze. As the reporters repeated the same information over and over on CNN, I slept hard. I woke up, and it felt like we were in New Orleans again, waiting for an approaching storm.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Walkabout
To update you on the Fuzz, she's almost back to normal. She will let me pet her, and she's sleeping out in the open on the bed again. She did jerk her paws away when the FP tried to pat them, and she pulled away when he tried to stroke her nose. She still is itching, but that usually takes a day or two to go away.
So, yesterday, after I wrote the blog, I decided to go to the zoo. We have a yearly membership, and it expires the end of September, so I want to go as much as I can, assuming I might not be able to budget a membership renewal into the finances. I had to pack my water bottle in a plastic grocery bag, and then I put that in purse. When I stopped along my walk and took the water out to have a drink, I felt self conscious like people were going to think I was drinking hooch.
I am so used to wearing flip flops, that I put them on, thinking they were the best choice for the excursion. I live in Golden Hill, and I totally miscalculated the distance from here to the zoo. I forget how long it is to get up the winding walking path on Zoo Place, and then to cross the street and actually get into the front entrance of the zoo. I thought it was a mile, mile and a half tops. I just now google mapped it. 2.6 miles. It took almost an hour. I am not a walker. I walk to the 7-11 down the street which requires going up and down 2 hills and I think that's an accomplishment.
Anyhoo, getting back to the flip flops. Not the best choice. Okay, they were a better choice than those terribly uncomfortable white mary jane stripper heels that I wore once, but I think it was worse than walking barefoot. I remember my sister walked from the garden district in New Orleans to the Bywater barefoot once. That's like 6 miles. But she was way more of a walker then than I am now. So, my flip flop strap on the inside of my left foot started to chafe on the way there. I was contemplating whether I could stay past dark and splurge on a cab, which I figured would be $5, but now knowing the mileage, I know it would have been closer to $10.
So, I went in and went straight for Big Cat Trail, with a stop at the ring tailed lemurs at the intersection of Front Street and Center Street or somewhere around there. It was after 6, and it looked like the cats may or may not have just had dinner. They were all lazing around bathing themselves. Not too exciting. The snow leopards started pacing, which used to be exciting until the last time we went to the zoo.
That time, all the cats were active. One snow leopard was pacing across the front of the cage, and the other was more erratic. It was hot and I think they were testy. Whenever the one would cross the other's path they would have a spat. The one time the claws came out and they roared at each other it was right in front of me. I was a little scared.
This time, this preteen or young teen girl was complaining to her mom in front of the snow leopard "enclosure". She said she was using too many pictures on the cats, and all they had to offer was drinking water and pacing. Her mom tried to explain to her that they were not circus animals. I wanted to pipe in and say, you should have been here the last time I came! Then this other girl asked how they clean the cage. Her dad explained how they have that smaller cage in the back that they lure them to, and then someone goes in and cleans. So knowledgeable, that dad!
After that, I thought about going to Panda Canyon, as I think the new exhibit is called. I didn't go, because my feet hurt, and I thought it would be special to share that experience for the first time with the FP. So, I headed back up to the Elephant Odyssey. I don't really pay much attention to the elephants. There are way more and they seem much happier at the Wild Animal Park, one of the few things there that are really exciting. Whenever we go there, we barely see any animals.
So, I got to the one area where there are guanacos, capybaras, and ducks. I was focused on the ducks, because the last time we went there was a mama duck with about 10 teeny baby duckies. They were so small and cute! So, I was looking for them in the water. On the higher side of the waterfall I saw regular sized ducks, but no babies. So, I don't know if they moved them to another exhibit or what. There were capybaras though, swimming and frolicking in the water. That was cute. There were like four or five of them, and they were playing like otters, of course not as graceful in the water as otters.
One went to the bottom of the falls and was using the falls like a whirlpool jet on it's butt. I had never paid these guys much attention before, but for the moment they were the most exciting thing I'd seen.
I progressed to the Jaguar, who was pacing in that front area like always. It's sad, because he's so pretty, yet so unhappy. The lionness next door was sitting in the small partition of the enclosure, facing the glass. Just sitting. Everyone was going right up to her, and she didn't bat an eyelash. One family had a discussion about how maybe it was a one way glass and she couldn't see us. People at the zoo have such dumb conversations and sound like morons, no offense. I know the FP and I have had dumb conversations that someone overheard and thought we were dumb. Can I say dumb anymore, anyway? Or is there a more PC term I should be using, Forrest Gumplike?
Anyway, the male lion was chillin out in the very back of the big enclosure. Much of a letdown after the last zoo visit, which was to be expected. Last time, the male was pacing the whole length of the front of the enclosure, and as he was heading toward me, he would be staring me in the eyes. He didn't just do it to me, but he would do it to everyone standing in front of him. That was an experience quite like nothing I've ever experienced before. Meanwhile, while he was pacing, the female was in that smaller enclosure area, pounding on the reinforced steel wall (hopefully that's what it was) that used to be a door leading to the jaguar enclosure. I mean she was using all her might trying to get in, alternating between pounding and scratching. When she pounded, I could feel the ground shake, when she scratched it made this horrible metal reverberation. The jaguar seemed to alternate between scared shitless and curious. He kept running in and out looking at that steel wall. That was something else.
So, the sun was getting low, and I had to make a decision. Did I walk around more and catch better action as the sun went down, and splurge on a cab? Or did I leave right then and try to make it up 26th street before the sun set? I took the cheap and painful way out and headed to the exit. As I was walking down the cactus walk, I realized the sun was setting fast, so I started walking faster, even though it was killing my feet. It was dark dusk by the time I got to that wooded part of the path on 26th street, going uphill. But there were still people running, so I wasn't too freaked out. Ever since we first moved to San Diego, and I realized that people live all around the canyons of Balboa Park, I've been scared to be anywhere wooded and hidden in the park after dark, especially after dark. I had this vision that if I didn't make it past that point before dark, a transient would grab me off the path and drag me into his lair and mug, rape me and make me cuddle afterwards with his stinky dirty flesh if he didn't decide to kill me.
Obviously, that didn't happen. I made it home. 5.2 miles to and from the zoo. I can't really estimate how much I walked in the zoo, but let's just call it .8 and say I walked 6 miles yesterday in my shitty nonsupportive flip flops.
Today, it hurts to walk barefoot on the tile in the apartment, and my ankles are the part of my legs that hurt the most. If I ever do this again, I have to remember to wear my Nikes.
So, yesterday, after I wrote the blog, I decided to go to the zoo. We have a yearly membership, and it expires the end of September, so I want to go as much as I can, assuming I might not be able to budget a membership renewal into the finances. I had to pack my water bottle in a plastic grocery bag, and then I put that in purse. When I stopped along my walk and took the water out to have a drink, I felt self conscious like people were going to think I was drinking hooch.
I am so used to wearing flip flops, that I put them on, thinking they were the best choice for the excursion. I live in Golden Hill, and I totally miscalculated the distance from here to the zoo. I forget how long it is to get up the winding walking path on Zoo Place, and then to cross the street and actually get into the front entrance of the zoo. I thought it was a mile, mile and a half tops. I just now google mapped it. 2.6 miles. It took almost an hour. I am not a walker. I walk to the 7-11 down the street which requires going up and down 2 hills and I think that's an accomplishment.
Anyhoo, getting back to the flip flops. Not the best choice. Okay, they were a better choice than those terribly uncomfortable white mary jane stripper heels that I wore once, but I think it was worse than walking barefoot. I remember my sister walked from the garden district in New Orleans to the Bywater barefoot once. That's like 6 miles. But she was way more of a walker then than I am now. So, my flip flop strap on the inside of my left foot started to chafe on the way there. I was contemplating whether I could stay past dark and splurge on a cab, which I figured would be $5, but now knowing the mileage, I know it would have been closer to $10.
So, I went in and went straight for Big Cat Trail, with a stop at the ring tailed lemurs at the intersection of Front Street and Center Street or somewhere around there. It was after 6, and it looked like the cats may or may not have just had dinner. They were all lazing around bathing themselves. Not too exciting. The snow leopards started pacing, which used to be exciting until the last time we went to the zoo.
That time, all the cats were active. One snow leopard was pacing across the front of the cage, and the other was more erratic. It was hot and I think they were testy. Whenever the one would cross the other's path they would have a spat. The one time the claws came out and they roared at each other it was right in front of me. I was a little scared.
This time, this preteen or young teen girl was complaining to her mom in front of the snow leopard "enclosure". She said she was using too many pictures on the cats, and all they had to offer was drinking water and pacing. Her mom tried to explain to her that they were not circus animals. I wanted to pipe in and say, you should have been here the last time I came! Then this other girl asked how they clean the cage. Her dad explained how they have that smaller cage in the back that they lure them to, and then someone goes in and cleans. So knowledgeable, that dad!
After that, I thought about going to Panda Canyon, as I think the new exhibit is called. I didn't go, because my feet hurt, and I thought it would be special to share that experience for the first time with the FP. So, I headed back up to the Elephant Odyssey. I don't really pay much attention to the elephants. There are way more and they seem much happier at the Wild Animal Park, one of the few things there that are really exciting. Whenever we go there, we barely see any animals.
So, I got to the one area where there are guanacos, capybaras, and ducks. I was focused on the ducks, because the last time we went there was a mama duck with about 10 teeny baby duckies. They were so small and cute! So, I was looking for them in the water. On the higher side of the waterfall I saw regular sized ducks, but no babies. So, I don't know if they moved them to another exhibit or what. There were capybaras though, swimming and frolicking in the water. That was cute. There were like four or five of them, and they were playing like otters, of course not as graceful in the water as otters.
One went to the bottom of the falls and was using the falls like a whirlpool jet on it's butt. I had never paid these guys much attention before, but for the moment they were the most exciting thing I'd seen.
I progressed to the Jaguar, who was pacing in that front area like always. It's sad, because he's so pretty, yet so unhappy. The lionness next door was sitting in the small partition of the enclosure, facing the glass. Just sitting. Everyone was going right up to her, and she didn't bat an eyelash. One family had a discussion about how maybe it was a one way glass and she couldn't see us. People at the zoo have such dumb conversations and sound like morons, no offense. I know the FP and I have had dumb conversations that someone overheard and thought we were dumb. Can I say dumb anymore, anyway? Or is there a more PC term I should be using, Forrest Gumplike?
Anyway, the male lion was chillin out in the very back of the big enclosure. Much of a letdown after the last zoo visit, which was to be expected. Last time, the male was pacing the whole length of the front of the enclosure, and as he was heading toward me, he would be staring me in the eyes. He didn't just do it to me, but he would do it to everyone standing in front of him. That was an experience quite like nothing I've ever experienced before. Meanwhile, while he was pacing, the female was in that smaller enclosure area, pounding on the reinforced steel wall (hopefully that's what it was) that used to be a door leading to the jaguar enclosure. I mean she was using all her might trying to get in, alternating between pounding and scratching. When she pounded, I could feel the ground shake, when she scratched it made this horrible metal reverberation. The jaguar seemed to alternate between scared shitless and curious. He kept running in and out looking at that steel wall. That was something else.
So, the sun was getting low, and I had to make a decision. Did I walk around more and catch better action as the sun went down, and splurge on a cab? Or did I leave right then and try to make it up 26th street before the sun set? I took the cheap and painful way out and headed to the exit. As I was walking down the cactus walk, I realized the sun was setting fast, so I started walking faster, even though it was killing my feet. It was dark dusk by the time I got to that wooded part of the path on 26th street, going uphill. But there were still people running, so I wasn't too freaked out. Ever since we first moved to San Diego, and I realized that people live all around the canyons of Balboa Park, I've been scared to be anywhere wooded and hidden in the park after dark, especially after dark. I had this vision that if I didn't make it past that point before dark, a transient would grab me off the path and drag me into his lair and mug, rape me and make me cuddle afterwards with his stinky dirty flesh if he didn't decide to kill me.
Obviously, that didn't happen. I made it home. 5.2 miles to and from the zoo. I can't really estimate how much I walked in the zoo, but let's just call it .8 and say I walked 6 miles yesterday in my shitty nonsupportive flip flops.
Today, it hurts to walk barefoot on the tile in the apartment, and my ankles are the part of my legs that hurt the most. If I ever do this again, I have to remember to wear my Nikes.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
My Cat Is Pissed At Me
So, I haven't really written much about the other cat, The Fuzz. She is the apple of The FP's eye, and honestly, if we had a kid I would doubt whether he could love a child more than he loves this cat. If it were socially acceptable and she would go for it, he would take her around in a papoose or a sling.
Anyway, she's very cute.
She's got short legs, but she's big and fluffy. She has medium length fur, except for on her tail, which is longer. She realizes that her tail is her best asset, and she really flaunts it sometimes. She will walk like the way models walk, and she will swish her tail or hold it upright.
She looks like a domesticated cat that has no survival skills for outdoors, like a persian, and she has no survival skills either. As my sister said, she's dainty. And she's not assertive at all. Whenever there are treats or people food to be had, she gets a quarter of it at best. When she wants to inspect or play with some object, she first gingerly paws/bats it with her tufty paw. Then she delicately sniffs it.
Her favorite thing in the world is cat food. So Stinksy has to be on special expensive prescription cat food because he is prone to crystals in his urine. It doesn't look very appealing, but she gets so excited when it's time to put more food in the bowl. She can be passed out deep in the bowels of the closet, but once she hears that telltail sound, she's up and on her way over. She does not like to eat when a human is standing nearby. She will wait until the human vacates a 6 foot radius. Then she takes that tufty paw and scoops a pellet onto the floor. She delicately paws it again, and then she takes it in her little teeth and barely chews it. Then the next one. But, she might only eat 15 kibble at one time. She likes to eat very small meals about 8 times a day. So, like every time she wakes up, she goes for the food bowl.
Anyhoo, getting back to her being pissed at me. She doesn't really trust us. Especially when we are standing. She does not like for us to pick her up. If someone so much as touches the pet taxi and she hears it, she goes into hiding for at least an hour. When she wants affection, she will come to us and demand it. Even if it's the middle of the night and we are passed out. Sometimes she will meow in my face and wake me up. I pretend I'm still asleep, but she will meow some more. Then she will nip my arm. It's cute and all, but I hate being disturbed when sleeping. The FP will wake up and throw his arm across me to pet her. So he's rewarding her negative behavior by positive reinforcement.
She tends to get fleas, although, I don't find the fleas, just rashy bumps. The vet said that she is probably allergic to the flea bites, so it feels just unpleasant really. So, I have to use Advantage on her. It really effects her on the first day, so I try to wait until I have to give it to her. So, it was getting pretty bad. She was on the back of the futon this morning, innocently hanging out. So, I thought that was a good time to sneak up and give it to her without assistance. So, I applied it, and she was off to the closet to cower for the rest of the day. Every time I tried to approach her, she would squint her eyes, as if my presence irritated her like the medication.
It really makes me feel bad every time I have to do this. She hates me for that first day. So, I had to sneak her some treats. I had to sneak them, because I could give Stinksy a whole bag of treats, but if he knew I were giving her some too, he might have to see how many she got and steal them. The treats were in the kitchen. So I turned the water on full blast. Then I also shook the rice in the plastic container. I oh so quietly took the treats out of the cabinet and opened the lid, making sure not to rattle them around. I reached my fingers in as quietly as possible and retrieved 4 treats. I gave them to The Fuzz, and she ate them. A few minutes later, she came out. When I looked at her, she gave me the old squinty face and ran under the table, where she is now. I guess that's progress. Hopefully tomorrow, she will come take a nap with me because she will have missed all the human contact she didn't get today.
Anyway, she's very cute.
She looks like a domesticated cat that has no survival skills for outdoors, like a persian, and she has no survival skills either. As my sister said, she's dainty. And she's not assertive at all. Whenever there are treats or people food to be had, she gets a quarter of it at best. When she wants to inspect or play with some object, she first gingerly paws/bats it with her tufty paw. Then she delicately sniffs it.
Her favorite thing in the world is cat food. So Stinksy has to be on special expensive prescription cat food because he is prone to crystals in his urine. It doesn't look very appealing, but she gets so excited when it's time to put more food in the bowl. She can be passed out deep in the bowels of the closet, but once she hears that telltail sound, she's up and on her way over. She does not like to eat when a human is standing nearby. She will wait until the human vacates a 6 foot radius. Then she takes that tufty paw and scoops a pellet onto the floor. She delicately paws it again, and then she takes it in her little teeth and barely chews it. Then the next one. But, she might only eat 15 kibble at one time. She likes to eat very small meals about 8 times a day. So, like every time she wakes up, she goes for the food bowl.
Anyhoo, getting back to her being pissed at me. She doesn't really trust us. Especially when we are standing. She does not like for us to pick her up. If someone so much as touches the pet taxi and she hears it, she goes into hiding for at least an hour. When she wants affection, she will come to us and demand it. Even if it's the middle of the night and we are passed out. Sometimes she will meow in my face and wake me up. I pretend I'm still asleep, but she will meow some more. Then she will nip my arm. It's cute and all, but I hate being disturbed when sleeping. The FP will wake up and throw his arm across me to pet her. So he's rewarding her negative behavior by positive reinforcement.
She tends to get fleas, although, I don't find the fleas, just rashy bumps. The vet said that she is probably allergic to the flea bites, so it feels just unpleasant really. So, I have to use Advantage on her. It really effects her on the first day, so I try to wait until I have to give it to her. So, it was getting pretty bad. She was on the back of the futon this morning, innocently hanging out. So, I thought that was a good time to sneak up and give it to her without assistance. So, I applied it, and she was off to the closet to cower for the rest of the day. Every time I tried to approach her, she would squint her eyes, as if my presence irritated her like the medication.
It really makes me feel bad every time I have to do this. She hates me for that first day. So, I had to sneak her some treats. I had to sneak them, because I could give Stinksy a whole bag of treats, but if he knew I were giving her some too, he might have to see how many she got and steal them. The treats were in the kitchen. So I turned the water on full blast. Then I also shook the rice in the plastic container. I oh so quietly took the treats out of the cabinet and opened the lid, making sure not to rattle them around. I reached my fingers in as quietly as possible and retrieved 4 treats. I gave them to The Fuzz, and she ate them. A few minutes later, she came out. When I looked at her, she gave me the old squinty face and ran under the table, where she is now. I guess that's progress. Hopefully tomorrow, she will come take a nap with me because she will have missed all the human contact she didn't get today.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
What I Like To Wear Is What Not To Wear's Nightmare
So, I would say that if the FP had a chance, he would throw away most of my "wardrobe." I was dressing after a shower (I didn't take one yesterday, but I did on Sunday, so not that gross in my book) when I thought of my topic for the day. My horrible clothes.
I've had this fear that one day Stacy London and Clinton Kelly are going to walk in and unpleasantly surprise me. They would pretty much burn all my clothes, and buy me uncomfortable shit that I would barely ever find occasion to wear. I mean, really.
This is what I am wearing right now.
A moo moo or housedress. Well, I'm not leaving the house in this thing. Okay, I do use it to go to the beach sometimes. I bought this thing in Walgreens about 8 or 9 years ago. So, while it may be a product of a sweatshop, I guess those nimble little Chinese fingers didn't get all stuck and arthritic in vain. I gotten my $10 out of this dress for sure.
I really hope I didn't shatter your image of me, if you don't know me personally. Although, I still think only people who know me read this. My blogs about my life are so glamorous that I must seem like a member of high society. If you didn't know me, you probably pictured me stylishly dressed in the latest New York fashion with some stiletto Manolo Blahnik strappy shoes sitting at my Mac in my fashionable loft style condo with views of the Pacific Ocean from the cliffs of La Jolla a la Carrie Bradshaw of the west. Nope, I'm sitting here in a teeny Golden Hill apartment with views of the rest of Golden Hill in my moo moo.
Now, I realize it's ugly, and I'll probably change into a less flammable wardrobe choice when I cook dinner, but it's that part of the day where it's still warm, and I want to enjoy that shower fresh feeling, since it's such a rare experience for me.
So, I wear a lot of leisure clothes. And I buy them at Wal-Mart, Target and Ross, mainly. I used to go to thrift stores in my youth, but it's too much work. And I tend to wear clothes a couple of times before I wash them. I'm not working, and I'm not working up much of a sweat between my little morning jog, so, really, it's not that gross. I will walk out of the house with hideous old t shirts and my "coffee pants" (an old black pair of exercise pants) to go to the store.
Don't get me wrong, I do dress differently to go out or play a show. I kind of wear almost costumes when I know I'm going to play a show. Usually, I wear bright colors, matching or not, and striped socks or tights, maybe a Hello Kitty shirt or Paul Frank socks. These are some shoes that found me at Target. I was looking for flip flops, because the purple $1.99 ones I got at Marukai Home were about to go and getting really uncomfortable to wear. Of course, it's so hard to find size 7 flip flops in summer that aren't hideous. So, I was giving up and walking away, when these shoes sparkled at me.
This was the only pair, and it was my size. I wasn't even looking for anything besides flip flops, but I couldn't not get these. I mean, I was always looking for Hello Kitty shoes in my size at the gift shop in 99 Ranch Market, and they never had them in stock.
Here are my four bottoms that I probably wear the most right now.
These are my new house shorts.
I think I got them at the most horrible Wal-Mart I've ever been to. It had low ceilings and it seemed more disorganized than a normal Wal-Mart, and it just kind of sucked (more than a regular sucky Wal-Mart). Anyway, they were like $7 I think. I was looking for a $4 price point, but I couldn't find it. I have been wearing them mostly with one of my grey wife beaters, that I wear about 3 - 5 days before giving it up to the laundry basket.
Here's my jean skirt that I've had for several years now.
I think I got it on the clearance rack at Wal-Mart. This thing is great because it's a skirt, and it's jeans material, and it has pockets. My mom used to always go crazy for having more and more pockets, especially when traveling. I remember one time I think my parents were going to Israel and Egypt. They had gone shopping to buy stuff for their trip. My mom was ecstatic to show me this fishing vest she had bought for the trip! I mean she was so excited! She also had this bra that had zippers inside the padding to put money and ID and credit cards in. That didn't seem convenient, but she loved that bra.
Sometime in my life I realized that I inherited the pocket craze from my mom. I kinda hate jeans. They are uncomfortable, and no matter what cut they are, they always cut into my muffin top. I've never had a fancy expensive pair of jeans, so I can't say what those are like. My BFF's ex-hubby had a pair of those $500 no wash jeans the last time I saw him. You know, the kind that you are supposed to freeze to "refresh"? He didn't actually buy them, someone gave them to him as a gift, but if someone gives you $500 jeans, you have to wear them. Just don't wear them to go farming or painting, I guess, which why would you wear jeans for those activities anyway? It was dark, so I didn't get a good look at them, but when his phone started ringing it lit up through his jeans emitting a nuclear like glow. Unfortunately for him, this is my lasting impression of him, as it is bound to be a long time until I see him again.
Anyway, jean pockets are great. If I don't want to bring a purse, I have pockets. One for money, ID and debit card. One for keys, since if we're going out, there's a 90% chance I'm driving home. One for cellphone. The "secret pocket" that no one knows about, especially policemen when searching for drugs, usually has a guitar pic or two in it. They usually just stay there, because when I WASH my jeans like any self respectable red blooded american who knows the value of a dollar and the toil of sweat, the pics don't fall out, but they get a cleaning.
Black cargo pants. from Target or Wal-mart.
Yeah, I love these. More pockets. Right now there's money in the cargo pocket that I discovered the last time I wore these. That's another great thing about pockets - hidden money! I bought these before our end of winter road trip to Sedona, the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas. There was that crazy cold front that covered the I8 with snow and we had to drive behind a snow plow all the way through the mountains. Anyway, the pants were for the Grand Canyon. I had to wear tights, stretch exercise pants and then the cargo pants on top to walk around the canyon. And still, when I had to step up to my knees in snow, it was a little chilly on my legs.
Oh, my sweatskirt.
I really don't know where I got it or when. But it's like an old friend to me. Okay, it's not really sweatpants material, it's not fuzzy inside, but it's soft and worn out like a nice pair of sweatpants. I really like skirts, because they have air conditioning. My legs get hot in pants. It's funny, because I don't really shave my legs, so I have this kinda long, fine hair on my legs below my knees. I guess the friction from skirts and stuff rubs the hair above my knees off.
So, this blog has been long enough. I won't photograph each fruit of the loom wife beater and old t shirts and dresses. You get the picture. Anyway, please, I beg you, don't pull a prank on me and sign me up for What Not To Wear. Now, I'm not writing this in hopes that someone will secretly do it. I mean, sure I would love to spend someone else's money on clothes. But it would have to be at the stores I like. And I would not buy a $70 T shirt. But, the main reason I would hate to be on that show is the way the show ends. When the victim has to go out to a party with friends and family to debut the new look. We don't have many friends here. If I were on this show, TLC would have to hire extras to fill out the crowd. How embarrassing that would be! I would rather go out in public in the moo moo.
I've had this fear that one day Stacy London and Clinton Kelly are going to walk in and unpleasantly surprise me. They would pretty much burn all my clothes, and buy me uncomfortable shit that I would barely ever find occasion to wear. I mean, really.
This is what I am wearing right now.
I really hope I didn't shatter your image of me, if you don't know me personally. Although, I still think only people who know me read this. My blogs about my life are so glamorous that I must seem like a member of high society. If you didn't know me, you probably pictured me stylishly dressed in the latest New York fashion with some stiletto Manolo Blahnik strappy shoes sitting at my Mac in my fashionable loft style condo with views of the Pacific Ocean from the cliffs of La Jolla a la Carrie Bradshaw of the west. Nope, I'm sitting here in a teeny Golden Hill apartment with views of the rest of Golden Hill in my moo moo.
Now, I realize it's ugly, and I'll probably change into a less flammable wardrobe choice when I cook dinner, but it's that part of the day where it's still warm, and I want to enjoy that shower fresh feeling, since it's such a rare experience for me.
So, I wear a lot of leisure clothes. And I buy them at Wal-Mart, Target and Ross, mainly. I used to go to thrift stores in my youth, but it's too much work. And I tend to wear clothes a couple of times before I wash them. I'm not working, and I'm not working up much of a sweat between my little morning jog, so, really, it's not that gross. I will walk out of the house with hideous old t shirts and my "coffee pants" (an old black pair of exercise pants) to go to the store.
Don't get me wrong, I do dress differently to go out or play a show. I kind of wear almost costumes when I know I'm going to play a show. Usually, I wear bright colors, matching or not, and striped socks or tights, maybe a Hello Kitty shirt or Paul Frank socks. These are some shoes that found me at Target. I was looking for flip flops, because the purple $1.99 ones I got at Marukai Home were about to go and getting really uncomfortable to wear. Of course, it's so hard to find size 7 flip flops in summer that aren't hideous. So, I was giving up and walking away, when these shoes sparkled at me.
Here are my four bottoms that I probably wear the most right now.
These are my new house shorts.
Here's my jean skirt that I've had for several years now.
Sometime in my life I realized that I inherited the pocket craze from my mom. I kinda hate jeans. They are uncomfortable, and no matter what cut they are, they always cut into my muffin top. I've never had a fancy expensive pair of jeans, so I can't say what those are like. My BFF's ex-hubby had a pair of those $500 no wash jeans the last time I saw him. You know, the kind that you are supposed to freeze to "refresh"? He didn't actually buy them, someone gave them to him as a gift, but if someone gives you $500 jeans, you have to wear them. Just don't wear them to go farming or painting, I guess, which why would you wear jeans for those activities anyway? It was dark, so I didn't get a good look at them, but when his phone started ringing it lit up through his jeans emitting a nuclear like glow. Unfortunately for him, this is my lasting impression of him, as it is bound to be a long time until I see him again.
Anyway, jean pockets are great. If I don't want to bring a purse, I have pockets. One for money, ID and debit card. One for keys, since if we're going out, there's a 90% chance I'm driving home. One for cellphone. The "secret pocket" that no one knows about, especially policemen when searching for drugs, usually has a guitar pic or two in it. They usually just stay there, because when I WASH my jeans like any self respectable red blooded american who knows the value of a dollar and the toil of sweat, the pics don't fall out, but they get a cleaning.
Black cargo pants. from Target or Wal-mart.
Yeah, I love these. More pockets. Right now there's money in the cargo pocket that I discovered the last time I wore these. That's another great thing about pockets - hidden money! I bought these before our end of winter road trip to Sedona, the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas. There was that crazy cold front that covered the I8 with snow and we had to drive behind a snow plow all the way through the mountains. Anyway, the pants were for the Grand Canyon. I had to wear tights, stretch exercise pants and then the cargo pants on top to walk around the canyon. And still, when I had to step up to my knees in snow, it was a little chilly on my legs.
Oh, my sweatskirt.
I really don't know where I got it or when. But it's like an old friend to me. Okay, it's not really sweatpants material, it's not fuzzy inside, but it's soft and worn out like a nice pair of sweatpants. I really like skirts, because they have air conditioning. My legs get hot in pants. It's funny, because I don't really shave my legs, so I have this kinda long, fine hair on my legs below my knees. I guess the friction from skirts and stuff rubs the hair above my knees off.
So, this blog has been long enough. I won't photograph each fruit of the loom wife beater and old t shirts and dresses. You get the picture. Anyway, please, I beg you, don't pull a prank on me and sign me up for What Not To Wear. Now, I'm not writing this in hopes that someone will secretly do it. I mean, sure I would love to spend someone else's money on clothes. But it would have to be at the stores I like. And I would not buy a $70 T shirt. But, the main reason I would hate to be on that show is the way the show ends. When the victim has to go out to a party with friends and family to debut the new look. We don't have many friends here. If I were on this show, TLC would have to hire extras to fill out the crowd. How embarrassing that would be! I would rather go out in public in the moo moo.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Getting Old
I sprained my thumb yesterday. I was locking the front door on my way out, and something funny (funny painful, not funny ha ha, mind you) happened. We went for drinks, so I didn't worry about it too much, but it was a nagging pain. It looked like the tendon or muscle was sticking out more than usual. I woke up in the middle of the night, and it was hurting. So, I found some medical tape and wrapped it up so it wouldn't move.
When I woke the next morning, it hurt even more. So I taped my index finger to my thumb for more support. We have a band, and we usually have band practice on Monday night. Luckily for me, the singer postponed practice til Friday. Our drummer has had all kinds of arm/nerve issues for a while. His arm was hurting, so he was also relieved to not practice.
The FP decided he wanted finish this song we had been recording, so he worked on that all afternoon. I decided that I wanted to put a sax part in. Yes, I play sax, no, I'm not that good, and yes, I was a band fag. I had to unwrap my index finger, of course, but my thumb was still safely mummified. So, I recorded my sax parts, and my thumb wasn't hurting too bad. Then I recorded a bass part. This kind of irritated my thumb, but the more I moved it around it seemed to loosen up.
I took the tape off my thumb, and it didn't feel too bad. Of course, now that I'm typing this blog on the computer my thumb is not happy. I guess I have to wrap it back up.
The FP said, you know the band is getting old when the drummer has a pain in his arm, the keyboard player sprained her thumb and it's too late to practice after the singer gets off work around 6pm (she does live in Encinitas). Too bad we're not quite old enough for medicare to cover our aches and pains. I wonder if we will be playing music long enough that we get to the point where we have to wear Depends on stage because we can't wheel our scooters off stage fast enough to not shit or piss our high waisted poly blend pants. If that time comes, I'm going to form a band called It Depends. Maybe we can get a sponsorship from Depends and travel the country in a comfy RV playing to all the retirement communities, sitting room only, show start time 4pm.
I wonder if I should sue the landlady for faulty door locks. She'll just think I'm suing her because I'm jealous of her relationship with the FP, though.
When I woke the next morning, it hurt even more. So I taped my index finger to my thumb for more support. We have a band, and we usually have band practice on Monday night. Luckily for me, the singer postponed practice til Friday. Our drummer has had all kinds of arm/nerve issues for a while. His arm was hurting, so he was also relieved to not practice.
The FP decided he wanted finish this song we had been recording, so he worked on that all afternoon. I decided that I wanted to put a sax part in. Yes, I play sax, no, I'm not that good, and yes, I was a band fag. I had to unwrap my index finger, of course, but my thumb was still safely mummified. So, I recorded my sax parts, and my thumb wasn't hurting too bad. Then I recorded a bass part. This kind of irritated my thumb, but the more I moved it around it seemed to loosen up.
I took the tape off my thumb, and it didn't feel too bad. Of course, now that I'm typing this blog on the computer my thumb is not happy. I guess I have to wrap it back up.
The FP said, you know the band is getting old when the drummer has a pain in his arm, the keyboard player sprained her thumb and it's too late to practice after the singer gets off work around 6pm (she does live in Encinitas). Too bad we're not quite old enough for medicare to cover our aches and pains. I wonder if we will be playing music long enough that we get to the point where we have to wear Depends on stage because we can't wheel our scooters off stage fast enough to not shit or piss our high waisted poly blend pants. If that time comes, I'm going to form a band called It Depends. Maybe we can get a sponsorship from Depends and travel the country in a comfy RV playing to all the retirement communities, sitting room only, show start time 4pm.
I wonder if I should sue the landlady for faulty door locks. She'll just think I'm suing her because I'm jealous of her relationship with the FP, though.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
The Saga of Stinksy and Pete
So, if you've been reading this blog, then you know all about Pete. To recap, our friend moved away and gave Pete, the betta fish, to us. He had a bowl with a big open mouth. Our cat Stinksy started fishing as soon as he saw Pete in his bowl. So I bought a small tank with a lid on it. I put Pete in the bedroom on a high bookshelf that the cats rarely jumped on. So, Pete was ignored by the cats. But he got lonely being in the bedroom all day with little traffic. So, I decided to put him on the dining room table against the wall. He survived one or two days with no interest from the cats. And then, Stinksy noticed. He would paw the glass to get at Pete, but this was not satisfying enough. He would move the tank.
Then this morning (this is where the update starts), I found the tank moved, and the lid was moved off it a little. Luckily, Pete was safe in his big seashell. So, Pete gets more interaction, but maybe not the kind he wanted. So, I needed to do something. I had a wood board that was supposed to be a little ledge for the cats, but I never put it up. I needed small brackets to hang it, and I never got them. So, I had another larger piece of wood. So, I sawed off two legs, then I nailed the three pieces of wood together to make a protective lean to for the tank. I put it over the tank, then I anchored it in front with a 15 pound dumbbell on each side of the tank. So, there is no room for Stinksy to open the lid, and he can only push the tank back against the wall.
Just now, Stinksy woke from a 2 hour nap. The first thing he did was jump up on the dining room table to check up on Pete. Pete was napping in his shell. Stinksy looked at the tank for a minute or two, then jumped down to have an afternoon kibble merienda. So, we'll see what happens...
Then this morning (this is where the update starts), I found the tank moved, and the lid was moved off it a little. Luckily, Pete was safe in his big seashell. So, Pete gets more interaction, but maybe not the kind he wanted. So, I needed to do something. I had a wood board that was supposed to be a little ledge for the cats, but I never put it up. I needed small brackets to hang it, and I never got them. So, I had another larger piece of wood. So, I sawed off two legs, then I nailed the three pieces of wood together to make a protective lean to for the tank. I put it over the tank, then I anchored it in front with a 15 pound dumbbell on each side of the tank. So, there is no room for Stinksy to open the lid, and he can only push the tank back against the wall.
Just now, Stinksy woke from a 2 hour nap. The first thing he did was jump up on the dining room table to check up on Pete. Pete was napping in his shell. Stinksy looked at the tank for a minute or two, then jumped down to have an afternoon kibble merienda. So, we'll see what happens...
Saturday, August 20, 2011
How OCD are you?
So, I have never been to a shrink. I would love to go and get evaluated. I would also love to go to get tested for allergies. I have a feeling both would have interesting results.
So, if you read one of my other blogs, you know that I determined on my own that my dad has Borderline Personality Disorder. There is debate about this diagnosis, because some think it was a thrown together profile that doesn't exist, that they just combined a bunch of generalized symptoms, etc. Well, whether it was made up or not (and aren't all psychiatric disorders "made up") it fits. So, I could have that. I definitely fit the descriptions. Of course, children of those with BPD could have it, or they could just feel unstable from the reaction to dealing with someone with BPD.
Anyway, I have been aware of things that I do in keeping with BPD - like having overly strong emotional responses to situations, or having that feeling of abandonment. So, it's that Catch 22. Are you crazy if you know you are crazy?
I know I'm crazy, but it still makes me crazy. I definitely get OCD with things. Like locking the door. If I don't remember the action of locking the door, I wonder if I did lock it. Even though it's an automatic response. As far as locking the car door, I almost always double check, especially if the FP has the keys. We often arm the car alarm in silent mode, so if I didn't hear the horn, or the silent mode click then I doubt whether it was locked. And sometimes the FP might not lock it if he's carrying a bunch of stuff out, which he usually is - catering bins, groceries or musical equipment, or sometimes all three.
When I'm in the middle of some task and another unrelated task has to be dealt with, I always need to finish the first thing, or come to what I see as a certified stopping point. This is bad when it comes to working in a restaurant, because really, if you need a recook or something like that, it should be urgent. But, I tend to have an attitude when I'm cooking the line, which usually just has to do with control issues and doing things my way and me putting out unsatisfactory food.
When I set an alarm, I have to set it for what I call a "soft number". That just means an even number. I usually will set it for 5:48 instead of 5:45. I will use 0,2,6, and 8. I'm not sure what I have against 4, but I think it's too close to 5. 5 is way too hard for an alarm. 5 means that I will probably turn off the alarm and oversleep. I think the FP has this issue too. Weird.
The FP has his own mental things going on. The one interesting OCD thing that he used to have was 7s and stars. His conversations would have to be in syllables of 3 or 5. So if he was carrying a conversation with someone on the phone, he would draw a 7 (with a hook for 3 segments) or a star for 5 segments. If the other person finished his or her thought without finishing a 7 or a star, then he would say something with the correct amount of syllables to complete it. Weird huh?
Another interesting thing I used to do was obsessively monitor my food intake. I would count items as servings or units. So, say I ate an ice cream sundae with 2 scoops of ice cream, whipped cream, fudge and nuts. That would be 5 units. Or maybe 6 if I had a lot of whipped cream. My daily intake might be 12. But if I ate a regular sized sandwich, that might only use up 1 unit. But I also used to count individual things, like skittles or M&Ms or nuts. So maybe 20 skittles was one unit. I know this is similar to an anorexic way of thinking, but I have always loved to eat too much to become anorexic.
One habit I have trouble shaking is waiting until I get home to eat something. Say, if I buy a bag of chips, salt & vinegar (which make my mouth water just thinking about them), I will try not to eat any until I get into the house. I'm not sure what this accomplishes, because either way, I'm probably going to devour the whole bag. But, I guess, if I wait until I get home and I can sit and eat them in front of the TV, I can savor them more. Eating in the car is more of a mindless compulsion for me.
So, anyway, that's a little more insight into my psyche. Fascinating, huh?
So, if you read one of my other blogs, you know that I determined on my own that my dad has Borderline Personality Disorder. There is debate about this diagnosis, because some think it was a thrown together profile that doesn't exist, that they just combined a bunch of generalized symptoms, etc. Well, whether it was made up or not (and aren't all psychiatric disorders "made up") it fits. So, I could have that. I definitely fit the descriptions. Of course, children of those with BPD could have it, or they could just feel unstable from the reaction to dealing with someone with BPD.
Anyway, I have been aware of things that I do in keeping with BPD - like having overly strong emotional responses to situations, or having that feeling of abandonment. So, it's that Catch 22. Are you crazy if you know you are crazy?
I know I'm crazy, but it still makes me crazy. I definitely get OCD with things. Like locking the door. If I don't remember the action of locking the door, I wonder if I did lock it. Even though it's an automatic response. As far as locking the car door, I almost always double check, especially if the FP has the keys. We often arm the car alarm in silent mode, so if I didn't hear the horn, or the silent mode click then I doubt whether it was locked. And sometimes the FP might not lock it if he's carrying a bunch of stuff out, which he usually is - catering bins, groceries or musical equipment, or sometimes all three.
When I'm in the middle of some task and another unrelated task has to be dealt with, I always need to finish the first thing, or come to what I see as a certified stopping point. This is bad when it comes to working in a restaurant, because really, if you need a recook or something like that, it should be urgent. But, I tend to have an attitude when I'm cooking the line, which usually just has to do with control issues and doing things my way and me putting out unsatisfactory food.
When I set an alarm, I have to set it for what I call a "soft number". That just means an even number. I usually will set it for 5:48 instead of 5:45. I will use 0,2,6, and 8. I'm not sure what I have against 4, but I think it's too close to 5. 5 is way too hard for an alarm. 5 means that I will probably turn off the alarm and oversleep. I think the FP has this issue too. Weird.
The FP has his own mental things going on. The one interesting OCD thing that he used to have was 7s and stars. His conversations would have to be in syllables of 3 or 5. So if he was carrying a conversation with someone on the phone, he would draw a 7 (with a hook for 3 segments) or a star for 5 segments. If the other person finished his or her thought without finishing a 7 or a star, then he would say something with the correct amount of syllables to complete it. Weird huh?
Another interesting thing I used to do was obsessively monitor my food intake. I would count items as servings or units. So, say I ate an ice cream sundae with 2 scoops of ice cream, whipped cream, fudge and nuts. That would be 5 units. Or maybe 6 if I had a lot of whipped cream. My daily intake might be 12. But if I ate a regular sized sandwich, that might only use up 1 unit. But I also used to count individual things, like skittles or M&Ms or nuts. So maybe 20 skittles was one unit. I know this is similar to an anorexic way of thinking, but I have always loved to eat too much to become anorexic.
One habit I have trouble shaking is waiting until I get home to eat something. Say, if I buy a bag of chips, salt & vinegar (which make my mouth water just thinking about them), I will try not to eat any until I get into the house. I'm not sure what this accomplishes, because either way, I'm probably going to devour the whole bag. But, I guess, if I wait until I get home and I can sit and eat them in front of the TV, I can savor them more. Eating in the car is more of a mindless compulsion for me.
So, anyway, that's a little more insight into my psyche. Fascinating, huh?
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