Gus is staring at me.

This year, I accompanied my boyfriend home for Christmas.  His family may have been a touch of a culture shock, but very nice people.  I felt welcomed and learned an awful lot about his roots, Jeffersonians, and a large swath of the South, and today, he dropped me off in DC to enjoy the an amazing Christmas gift- 2 nights in a swank hotel room with a very loose agenda and absolutely no required human interaction for 2.5 days.  I visited a few sights today- the American History museum, the Freer Art Gallery, and the Textile Museum.  I had some amazing food, and I adopted a creepy new addition to the family.

His name is Gus.

Clearly, the message here is that my boyfriend rocks, even if his thanks for that is going to be that he gets to get stared at by a rainbow pony for the drive home... because Gus?  Gus has informed me that he prefers to ride in the front so he can see things.  LIKE YOUR SOUL.

I have a lot of heavy stuff going on these days.  My dad is getting better, and in doing so, he's driving me up the wall.  My job is a constant source of angst and frustration, and fixing that situation, one way or another, is going to be a project.  My injured shoulder can't decide if it wants to get better or worse... but for the next two days, I don't have to fixate on those things.  I've got space and a great big city and a MASSIVE squishy hotel bed, and I can practically feel myself decompressing from a knot that I've let get way too tight.

All my things to worry about will surely still be there when I get home.  For now, I'm happy that I don't have to worry about anything deeper than where the yarn stores are in relation to the museums in the mall and the meerkats in the zoo.

10 DAYS? WTH?

In the waiting room of the Ortho this morning, himself mentioned somewhat casually that Christmas starts happening in 10 days.  That's not at all in line with my thinking of "a month or so," I swear.  I was also pretty surprised to realize that if I hurt myself on the first, and today is the 14th, that that's basically 2 weeks ago.

Dude.  Time. It's flying. Or something.

I appear to not be injured in the serious sense of the word.  My sling has been banished (thank God), and I'm to report for PT next week, and apparently I just really bruised my bones nicely.

An observation on the nature of people...

Tell people you were hurt playing derby, you get a lecture. Tell people you were trampled at Toys R Us on Black Friday, you get sympathy. Tell people your girlfriends beat you, and you don't have to worry about any more eye contact for the duration of your store visit.

True Story.

The "I" Word.

I've become a much better derby skater this season.  To be fair, that wasn't hard to do.  When some friends watched me in my first bout in March, they observed that I'd probably be more effective if I spent more time not staring at my feet.  I'm pretty sure I spent most of that bout trying to not get hit, rather than trying to be effective... but things have gotten better.  When we went to Lake Charles to pay Lafitte's Ladies in October, yes, we lost- but I was still an effective member of my team, I helped hold back the other girls, and while I didn't actually send anyone flying through a wall like my hero Vixen did- I gave as good as I got.  It's been a progression.  In the past few weeks, one of my favorite jammers has told me that when we scrimmage, I'm on her list of blockers to avoid because I'm getting very effective at taking her down.  I'm not scared to hit the scary ones.  I notice that the really awesome blockers are trying to take me out and they sometimes fail.  It feels great.

So, of course, I've really been looking forward to the bout next weekend.  I want to help my team win, for a LOT of reasons.  First up- they've beat us twice.  Once was this season, on their turf.  Due to timing, a lot of us couldn't go, and our team skated short with 10 on the roster.  Those 10 lost by 2 points.  Second up- they're a good team.  Winning against them would be a great victory for my own team, and we don't have the greatest track record as we're going into the closer for our first full season.  And well... that's the league that has given a home to my arch-nemisis, a person who I have major issues with that have absolutely nothing to do with derby.  Acknowledging this may make me a bad person- but there you go.  I don't like her, and thus, I'd like to have something to do with one of her league's teams going down.  I never said I was a nice person all the time.

Thursday night at practice, I went down and, for the first time that I can recall in my derby career thus far, all action stopped, everyone took a knee, and I was tended to by the nurse and chiropractor who make up our on-skates Emergency Response team.  I tried to get myself scooted off the track as quickly as possible - it wasn't quick enough for my tastes- and I made sure that I said out loud LOTS of times that the ONLY reason I was going to the ER was because I knew I couldn't miss work tomorrow and, you know, it's "just in case." Because I'm such a responsible person, and really, I'm sure it's not that bad.  I even turned down Jiz-zam's repeated offers to drive me to said ER, because, you know, it's not all that bad.  After I got my diagnosis of "not broken, but it could need more attention- if it still has serious issues in a week, go see an ortho" I wasn't too worried.  See? Not that bad!  And on Friday night when I sewed myself a sling out of sock-monkey fabric, I knew that I must really be ok because after all, who could operate a sewing machine if they were injured and not just a little bit banged up?  It's not that bad.  I'd wear my sling for a day or two, being good and resting it like I'm supposed to for Saturday, maybe even Sunday, and then I'd be fine on Monday before practice and the sling could live in my skate bag for the next person to get a boo-boo at practice.  Even if the sock monkeys are upside down if it's worn on the right arm, it's really cute... it'll make somebody feel better. I surely don't need it!  Hurt doesn't mean injured. I'm fine.

Today was a good day.  I wore my sling but I had more mobility.  Lots of motions don't hurt to execute... but when the act of scooping washing powder out of a box with the hand attached to my injured shoulder made me almost cry, I texted the coach and asked her to go ahead and put in the alternate.  It may not be "that bad" but what are the odds that it will be so healed that in 6 days, I can go full-tilt and be a 100% player for my team? Slim.  What are the odds that I'd just hurt it again, and this time with 300 or more witnesses to my stupidity for pushing it?  Too high.  And well, my dude is flying in for this one, and he's going to be Santa!  While I love it when he's here to watch me skate, the idea of having Santa as my date to the ER while I'm sweaty and wearing too much make-up just curdles my blood a bit (no matter that it would indeed make a great story. It would).

I'm heartbroken that I don't get to close the season out on the track with the team I've worked so hard to become a useful member of.  Seriously- this shit makes me cry.  I know I can be useful, but being useful trackside or NSOing or whatever is not the same, and it sucks.  Our next bout isn't til March, which in Derby-time seems like a decade.  This is not a decision that makes me feel warm and fuzzy AT ALL. The alternate deserves to skate, for sure- but so do I.  I do not want to rock my sock-monkey sling and drink a beer in shoes.  I do not want to be outside of that smelly-ass locker room at halftime.  I do not want to put on a cheerful face and be all stoic like the other injured girls who have come before me.  Fuck that! I. Want. To. Skate.  This is one of those times where nobody should doubt that I came by my derby name honestly... Angst Muffin, indeed.

Alas, Roller Derby is a grownup sport with grownup decisions and I guess that there's some obligation to act like a fuckin' grownup, so here we go.  Starting tomorrow, I'm not going to pout- much.  I'm not going to cry about my poor little shoulder injury when Jiz-zam has been out most of the season with two broken collarbones (well, the same one twice), and Shootzie can't skate til she gets a job with insurance, and Fuds and Pawn Brokeher can't skate til they have their babies.  I'm going to spend my Sunday night getting it out of my system and then I'm going to support my team and do something useful with a cheesy ass smile on my face, sock monkeys, and a beer in my hand.

I'm so going to win the after party.

If you have ADD and you know it, clap your- MASTADONS!!!!

• There are two gestures that I'm ready to officially outlaw- the fistbump, and the raising of the roof.  In the past 2 weeks (and in a professional setting, no less), I've seen these combined frat-boy actions at least 9 times.  NINE. TIMES.  Surely that makes physical assault at least a little justifiable, yes?
• When one is truly ready to maim in the workplace, it's a sign that it's time to go camping.  Tomorrow is a vacation day so that I might extend my weekend camping trip by a bit, set up my camp in daylight, and help a good friend prepare for our evening's entertainment- a 4-Loko tasting.  Lest that sound declasse, rest assured that we've found the appropriate pairings- I'm bringing 4 varieties of spray cheese, Sabine's got the Bimbo brand snack cakes and Pixie Sticks, and Michelle got the crackers.  There's also a battleship game with shotglasses planned, a wedding, a wake, and shenanigans with glitter, all in the context of a medieval war weekend.
• I'm prepared to cook Thanksgiving dinner for my sister's family and my dad.  I'm sad to say that most of the recipes I'm using (same as last year) are penned by Paula Dean.  There are 4 pounds of butter in my refrigerator... and 5 boxes of cream cheese.  This is probably not the time to mention that in October I set myself a "lose 14 pounds by Christmas" goal, and I'm not quite halfway there.  
• I've been having a TON of fun practicing intimidation techniques in scrimmage practice.  TONS.  Derby in general has been going really well.  The last bout that I was in felt like a turning point in which I started feeling like I was a lot more useful.  Knocking people down is well and good, but I feel like I'm finally able to contribute something real in the "fucking with their program" department, which really is the most important part of being on the track for me.  I've also finally gotten transitions figured out- after only 9 months of Not Getting It.  I'm looking forward to next year's season and being more than just a name on a roster and a place holder because, you know, good players need rest.  
• Dylan and I have begun planning our Christmas Vacation to his ancestral homeland (Virginia).  I'm giddily looking forward to being in a car with him for all that driving, as well as the meeting of the kinfolk (I'm pretty sure I shouldn't address them as such), the meeting Washington, DC for the first time that counts, and apparently, you can get 3 bottles of wine for $10.  However, it's going to be balls cold there, so I'm starting knitting now.  I've already made one hat that is too small and one that is too large, so I'm hoping the next one shall be just right.

Second verse, same as the first...

I was sick. First an ear infection, then bronchitis and the other ear got infected.

Then I got better.  Well, I started getting better.  I had a drastic improvement from "feels like death" into "feeling mostly human with a cough."

Then I went to San Diego for a weekend, and it was amazing.

And now I'm sick again.

I'm just glad that I got to go to California and have a lovely bit of vacation with my guy, even if now I'm right back to probable ear infections, and another week of not working out, not skating, and not getting my stupidly massive to-do list done.

MEH.

A happy moment in a sad Wednesday

I had every intention of participating in a M-F version of NaBloPoMo, but then the first of November wasn't much worth talking about.  I'm getting to the point in my work calendar where life goes from "stressful because there's too much work to do" to "stressful because there's not enough money coming into the office." It's a change of tempo, but not much of a condolence.  

This morning I ducked out of the office for a few minutes when the phones got to be too much.  I'd gathered up loose change last night to take it to the Coinstar machine, and so that's what I did. I don't actually try to "collect" change- but it happens.  I'm a pocket-user, and I keep change receptacles on my dresser, in my bathroom, in my car, and on my washing machine. I didn't weigh the nylon shopping bag full of change (and bobby pins, stick pins, buttons, etc...) but I'm guessing it was a 20 lb bag of change. It's been a year or so since I cashed it out.

Anyhow- the gimmick is, you lose 9.8 cents per dollar if you want cash, but gift certificates have no fee taken out.  Christmas is coming and I'm an Amazon addict.  I don't mind getting the gift card to keep almost a tenth of my money!  I scraped my money through the machine, collected my Chuck E Cheese tokens that fell out of the bottom (haven't been there in at least 2 years, maybe 3), and saw that the total money sorted was $10 less than my plane ticket I bought for my trip to San Deigo this weekend.  BANK!  That was happy.... but then the machine was out of Amazon gift cards, so instead of a card I got the entire amount in cash, with no service fees.

It isn't a major victory in the grand scheme of things, but it makes me happy, so I'll take it.

Some Enchanted Evening...

Not everything went right.  Nobody remembered ice..or tongs. I chose the wrong shoes (ow), came perilously close to what could have been a nasty car accident, had a middle-of-the-night fight with an air conditioner because for the first time in my life I was too hot.  We panicked a few minutes because we weren't sure the best man's shirt was really where it ended up being.  At the reception while having a conversation with somebody's grandmother, I chose words poorly and while attempting to tell a very sweet and sincere story managed to make myself sound like a raging tramp instead...and made the groom's father hyperventilate and choke on cake in the process.

It really was just about perfect, though.  I may even officiate another one of these shindigs one day, especially if there are kilts and twinkle lights involved.

Zombie Apocalypse Preparation Day

The Shreveport Zombie Walk was on Saturday.  I got dressed for the occasion as a zombie hunter since the league had been invited to come be "Zombie Crowd Control" on skates for the event.  I figured that you need somebody with a gun to keep zombies in line, right?  Well, that, and I hate fake blood.

My outfit consisted of: A black T-shirt, cut up a bit over a red tank top, a black "dance" skirt (short), black shorts (short), and fishnets over dance tights, with a bit of dramatic eye makeup and teal blue "war paint" lines under my eyes.  I finished it off with my belt buckle made of .30-06 shells, a toy rifle, and my awesome STOMPEH! Doc Martens, and headed out the door.  I tossed my gear in my car and decided to move the gas can that I'd left on the front walk back to the carport it should live in.

I live in the country.  It's very "in the sticks" (no highspeed internet OR pizza delivery), and for the most part I'm surrounded by older people and a few young families.  We have a neighborhood but everybody is spread out a bit, with their homes on 2-4 acre lots.  In my section, neither neighbor on either side has a fence, so we've got a pretty big sprawl of pawn between us... and as I walked over to deposit my big red gas can (and get gas all over my hands because I can't do anything without making a mess) I noticed a trio of 2 men and a woman walking in my general direction, coming across the neighbor's yard.  They were still there when I went back around, so I walked towards them and offered a "Can I help ya'll?"  One of the gentlemen stepped forward and explained that he was a realtor showing the property across the street, and his clients wanted to look around the neighborhood and get a feel for things.  I cheerfully told them that it was a great neighborhood that was really quiet and full of great people, and headed back to my car.  As far as I can tell, those folks vaporized on the spot- I didn't even see them as I left, tears rolling down my cheeks and smearing my war paint because they probably got the impression that the neighborhood houses backwood militants who do their yardwork in fishnets and warpaint.  I got myself under control quickly, but then my dad called me to let me know that I needed to turn around, because he just realized that I'd forgotten my pants (britches, actually)... and I had to pull over to get my giggles under control.

Just for fun- here's a picture of me with Jesus.

My shirt read "The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers" until I corrected it with a Sharpie to say "zombies." The creation of that shirt was a comedy of errors, but I didn't burn my house down in the process, so I called it a victory.

And...

Found him!

Things Happened.

So let's see...

That May bout?  My team (the Bayou Bruisers) won.  The following two, against the Cenla Derby Dames - one home, one away- were well played, but we were not victorious.  However, my life still rocked, because for all 3 bouts, a CertainSomeone happened to fly across the country to visit, and to watch us skate, and that's a pretty awesome thing.  And hey! He's flying in town again for our interleague bout this weekend, in which I'll be a Bruiser again, and it's going to be smashing.

That's pretty much the happy end of things.

In the "life happens, and damn does it keep you busy" department, the Things That Happened weren't so swell.  In late June, my dad fell... and in July, on the weekend when CertainSomeone and I were going to head to New Orleans for San Fermin en Nueva Orleans, we ended up going to Dallas again for dad had landed himself in the hospital.  Lots of THINGS happened, including a Kyfoplasty and 50+ days of rehab, but yesterday my dad came home to me, having been deemed fit to live on his own but with some assistance.  I feel like I could honestly write a book right now about how one who isn't expecting to do so can navigate the medical (and Medicare) system without ending up admitted themselves, but I'm probably not well qualified. I made some mistakes- one of which may have caused a pretty big setback in dad's recovery when I chose a rehab facility that looked great on the surface but had I done my research properly, I'd have steered away from.  Anyhow- lessons have been learned.  If you ever have a loved one in the hospital for something more serious than a hangnail, get yourself a notebook and record everything.  Put everyone's card in the pocket. Write on the back of the card who they are and what date they became relevant... and be grateful for the people in your life who will let you vent every single day about how much the situation sucks, because they'll help an awful lot... and try not to hold grudges against people who aren't being as involved as you'd like.  Chances are, they're prioritizing as well as they can, even if it seems unfair.

SO ANYWAY.... My dad came home yesterday!  That's great.  He can now get around the house with his walker and some bitching, and he's pretty decent at propelling his wheelchair.  He's hoping to regain his independence as quickly as possible, but I think we'll be ok even if this situation lasts for awhile.  I'm looking at a lifestyle change of sorts, at least temporarily... but I don't mind.  Since he's been in treatment, my days have consisted of a schedule that involves leaving for work most mornings around 7:15 and getting home around 9:00 (or later) most nights, so I think I'll adjust pretty easily to needing to go straight home from work to check on the old man (and nap).

As for me?  Well, for me, stress manifests itself in the form of indulgence in cookies, bourbon, and more nicotine than it should.  I've gained 10 pounds, maybe 12.  I've missed a lot of practices.  I've had way more junk food than I should have, but I've taken my vitamins religiously.  Now that things have turned around a bit with dad, though, those are all factors I plan to address.

And lookit! Some of my girls and I made the front page of a local paper (and it's not even a mug shot).  Things aren't all bad... truthfully, they're pretty good all things considered.

And that's my update of Things that Happened.

Sabine says my ADD is ruining her feng shui today. OH LOOK BUNNIES!

Actual excerpts from our Google Chats today:

me: I am taking the MOG MY LIFE SUZCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! today.
YOU'RE WELCOME.
Sabine: I am so stupidly happy.
STUPIDLY HAPPY
me: GOOD.
YOU DESERVE IT.
I LOVE CAPITALS TODAY.
Sabine: I LOVE EVERYTHING TODAY
me: Who put glitter in your cheerios?

---

me: Ok. "Bri and 4 other friends are attending Pre-Rapture Orgy" made me LOL.
Sabine: NOBODY INVITED ME TO THE ORGY.
me: ....
Bri is inviting you to the orgy.
Sabine: Having Bri invite me makes it EVEN BETTER.
I LOVE TODAY

--

me: subcontractors eating my brain
Sabine: you haz subcontracted ZOMBIES?!?!
me: YES.
AND THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND WORKERS COMP
Sabine: Must be cheap labor at least.
me: true...
Do you want to know what just happened to me?
Sabine: YES
me: Remember that thing...... several months ago? Last summer?
<cutting out all the good stuff. But it was REALLY funny. And awesome.>
Sabine: I just have to say it, I love us. Really, I do.
me: I love us, too.

--

me: http://www.patspapers.com/story_stack/item/baby_cakes_offer_up_proof_in_the_frosting/
Sabine: I blame my inability to comprehend that on my lack of wubby as a young child.
me: right.
Sabine: My Mother failed me.
and because of that she will never find out the sex of her grandchild via Skype.
so really she failed herself too
me: hopefully she'll never find out from cake, either.
Sabine: Pink cake always tastes like ass anyway. I can't imagine what blue cake would taste like...blue coconut?
me: COCONUT IS NOT BLUE WHY THE FUCK DO PEOPLE DO THAT. Didn't we JUST have this conversation????
COCONUT DOES NOT TASTE BLUE.
Sabine: Right, cause that is after all your favorite tampon scent.
me: Coconut doesn't even smell blue. MY blue tampons are BlueBERRY scented.
Sabine: blue raspberry?
me: sure.
Sabine: You totally just broke my brain.
me: Hey! I just got good news. I think that means I'm probably going to step on a rusty nail or something.
Sabine: Dammit, Sarah. Your ADD mind is fucking with my feng shui today.
me: :D "Rapture" by Blondie just got added into the bout playlist.
me: Ok, so I bought a package of Hanes boyshorts. And they're the MOST COMFY UNDERPANTS in the world. It's like a 16 hour hug for your ass. LOVE them. Can't find them online to order more. Iz SAD.

<Sabine is unavailable for chat>

Despite all the crap I'm about to say, I'm really in a great mood.

My internal dialogue entertains the hell out of me sometimes.  Somewhere around the age of 12 I figured out that I wasn't supposed to just always say those things that I was thinking, though, and most of the time my tact filter kicks on and I don't spread snark and sarcasm every damn time I open my mouth.  That internal dialogue is for ME- and select others that I choose to share it with, but for the most part keeping it internalized is for everyone's better interest... and clearly, it's broken today. Or malfunctioning.  Or I left it next to my contact lens case or underneath the banana I meant to grab on my way out the door.  Regardless- it is 10:13 AM, and one co-worker has already cried at me, another is hiding in the warehouse "cleaning" (because it hasn't happened for 3 years, so today is the perfect time to do that), and I've dropped f-bombs on Sabine's wall because the bracelets she posted a picture of annoyed me because they are probably a really great idea and that makes me sad.

So instead of telling you what is on my mind, which includes things like Craigslist Ads Inspired by God (there's a true story there), how flighty artists annoy the Bejeebus out of me (though I was saved by amazing non-flighty artist Boompoet, who is now my favorite person until at least close of business today), and how all this annoying week-ness is really getting in the way of the weekend GETTING HERE already.... I'm going to tell you what I told Sabine earlier:

I don't wish to explain how it is that I came to google "Extreme Ironing", but I did. That's the high point of my morning.

You're Welcome.

Just another bit of rambling

There are bloggers out there who, upon having a medical Thing going on, will offer their readers full disclosure.  They don't hold back when discussing the intricate workings and malfunctionings of their bodies, and as a result they grow to be loved in the blogosphere and people send them free Starbucks gift cards just for being that awesome.

Luckily for all of us, I don't aspire to that level of greatness and I don't mind buying my own coffee.  So I had a Little Medical Thing going on, and yesterday I had a Little Surgical Procedure, and now I'm on my way to being back to normal except for a Little Incision that needs a few days to get happy.  There are pretty much only two downsides to this that are going to effect me more than the soreness - 1) my insurance sucks and my deductible could buy a reasonably decent but older used car outright and 2) the post-op medication is requiring me to stay out of the sun, and even to exercise caution in the car.  Seeing as my plan was to be at Crown List this weekend being involved in Jeanie's elevation ceremony - NOT HAPPY.  As for the deductible- well, that's what I have savings for.  It's not where I'd have liked to have spent it but it isn't going to "hurt" me as long as I don't end up in the market for a car anytime soon... which is not something I was planning on anyway.

This weekend, instead of being there, I'm going to stay home and try to hole up and do something artistic.  I'm not sure what- it may just be framing some photos that I've been neglecting, but I figure if I've gained a free weekend I should do something with it, and I'm not going to be doing yard work, obviously.

So, other than that....


I had a phone call from a local rapper who needed help pronouncing my derby name as it kind of sounded like "Angus Muffin" in the first cut of his track.  It just so turns out that when speaking, said rapper has the voice of Ton Loc and even uses the phrase "Let's Do It" which turned me into a squealing schoolgirl.  A few hours later I'd seen to it that my Ton Loc voice-alike had called Sabine, who agrees that should rapping ever not pan out, this guy could make MILLIONS by selling recordings of himself reading just about anything to 30-something women.

And yes.  My derby league now has our very own rap song that I don't even think anybody really solicited.  We've gotten some neato-cool free things, don't get me wrong, but that may be on the top of the list- and apparently, a music video is to follow.

Other than all that? I'm getting excited about next weekend. I should be all healed up (and non-vampiric) in a few days, and having all of my people in town for the next bout is making me very happy.  It's nice to have things to look forward to and in that department I'm quite blessed, if not a little impatient.

It's Not About Me.

There's a difference between trying to be THE better person and trying to be A better person.  I do strongly believe that the former shouldn't be a goal; it shouldn't, but it can be tempting.  The end result might be the same but the motivations that get you there are sometimes more important.  WANT versus DO, though- that's being challenging for me today.  Challenges aren't supposed to be negatives but seriously... today?  I'm whiny.  I want things to be easy and perfect and lacking in conflict and moodiness and sadness, and when I don't get what I want, sometimes I get off kilter and my responses aren't the greatest.  I'm human.

This morning I let myself get sucked into my own little private pity party for awhile.  It's been a stressful few days/week, and letting myself wallow in that rather than meeting its' challenge isn't good.  It isn't good for me, or for the people I might poison with my crappy attitude if I let it stick around.  It doesn't do anything but perpetuate negativity and we have too much of that available as it is without growing more.

"To have true friends and be loved by them, we must in turn feel love and sympathy for others." His Holiness the Dalai Lama posted that on his Twitter today.  It's simple. True. Short enough to remember and kind of make my little mantra for the next day or two until the clouds pass and things get a bit easier around here.  I do not question that I have true friends. I do. We have a good system but that system only works properly if everyone holds up their end of the support network when chips go down... and while I'm not saying I've been an asshole, the people that I want to support deserve the best.  They deserve better than they can ever be given, by me or by anybody else... but at the very least, they're going to get the best that can be mustered.  Dammit.

It isn't my job, today, to be self-absorbed, at least not beyond the point of taking care of myself so I can take care of others.  Tomorrow, Wednesday, next week, next month... that day will come, and it will be fine, then, but for right now my job needs to be trying to figure out how to make things a little bit easier for others.

It's kind of like a roller coaster, but without the lap bar.

So- I had an a really great vacation. A friend hosted me in San Diego for 2 days of beach walking, Mexican food, seals that didn't seem interested in going clubbing at all, and lots of downtime.  Downtime seems much easier to accomplish when the company is good and the air smells like the ocean, I'm telling you.  Usually I epically fail at relaxing and it starts to feel like work but that wasn't the case.  California is gorgeous and I totally get the appeal of the west coast now.  The trip to and fro, despite being long, was easy.  Sabine's great suggestion of Tylenol PM and a stiff drink before boarding to come home was a great one (file under: Sabine is Still Not a Role Model).

Annnnd then I came home and reality kind of jumped up and said "HI!!!!!"  On Easter, Max was killed in a motorcycle accident.  Now, Max is not one of my close friends. I've known him for 15+ years, and he's always been around, but we never got cozy.  That being said, he was really close with a lot of the people I do consider close enough to want to be able to tend to their needs and - big surprise - situations I have no control over don't exactly set well with me.  I'm doing what I can do to help make things easier for those that I can but it's still rough to see my people hurting and not being able to fix them. So instead, I'll make up the beds and get out the skillets and do some cooking and fawning.  Sabine and I are going to hang blinds, too... because nothing distracts people like wrenching the power tools away from Sabine and I and hanging up the blinds for us.

Basically, I'm thinking that when you add together a really good weekend and a really harsh Monday, you get something that feels a bit like being hit by a truck with some pleasant tones.  And this is why I don't write Hallmark cards...

--

Puppies napping.

I'm going to babble now.

Do you ever notice how things have a tendency to come up out of nowhere and then suddenly repeat themselves in different parts of your life?  It doesn't have to be a deep something. In the past two weeks, I've had at least 6 unconnected people mention in conversation how much they love Count Chocula.  I've also had a book and a subject come up repeatedly in the past little bit.  The book is Buddha's Brain: The Practical Neuroscience of Happiness, Love, and Wisdom.  When it came up for the 4th time in as many days this morning I went ahead and Kindle'd it - it may not be coming up for a reason but at the very least, I trust the taste of those people who are reading it and seemingly getting something out of it.  That's easy.

The subject? Not as easy.  For some reason the theme of full disclosure and internet privacy and personal openness keep coming up, and they're tangling themselves in such a way that they can't be isolated separately, at least not in my little brain.  I've tried to sit here and write out my thoughts but all I really get is a convoluted tangle so apparently, it isn't really ready to be written about... we'll just call this a bookmark and maybe I'll get back to it later.  Or not. I seem to be expert at saying "I should write about that!" and then promptly not doing it.  Or even belatedly not doing it... anyhow.  We'll see. It gets thinks, though. Lots of thinks.

--

I'm officially counting down now, by the way. I'm on an airplane in 48 hours.  Squee!

Pizza, Tiki Bowls,and Nude Hose

The Scholars' College Reunion was this weekend. Unlike many schools, we don't do class years - we just do the entire damn college every 5 years.  Anyhow- I had an amazing time.  Walking to campus from Brent and Jeanie's was nostalgic (I used to walk that route, as I rented part of the duplex across the street from them for a bit, and before that I was at their house all the time anyway).  Walking home? Not as nostalgic. Turns out they've fenced in the impound lot AND fixed the cemetery's fencing so that sneaking out the back is harder than it once was but we worked it out.  It wasn't very much of a shortcut but it was scenic.  It turns out that Tiki Bowls still taste like Pineapple Juice, we're still more excited by "You Never Even Called me by My Name" than by most other songs, and reports indicate that current Scholars' students still arrange themselves around the table based on who actually read the text.  Thank God for things that never change!  Furthermore, my souvenirs from the weekend include t-shirts, a brick with a plaque on it, and a railroad spike, which also indicates that not much has changed about my sentimentality.  John as Sara's plus one did a great job of ferrying us around, babysitting purses, tolerating inside jokes that weren't applicable to him, and hanging out in a college kid bar.

Sunday after Jhan's family and John got on the road, the rest of us took off in the Firebird to take some pictures around town.  There was Public Indecency at the Train Station, possible violations of "no skating" rules downtown, and we're not going to talk about the cannon at all, but we did have a ton of fun.  Such a ton of fun was had that I made it home, sent a text that said I didn't need any recovery time because I felt great!... and promptly passed out in the Comfy Chair with a pile of cats for an hour and a half.

I'm hoping for an easy - and fast - week this week.  I'm rolling into it pretty damn happy with the state of the me in general and all recovered from the weekend with only a pile of laundry and a sewing project to keep me occupied until the next weekend gets here - which I am anticipating eagerly.

--

I spent way too much time dwelling on this earlier.  Kinda creepy, eh (the link, not the dwelling)?

Keepin' it classy.

me: http://blogs.shreveport-bossier.org/blog/post/2011/04/12/Town-South-Food-Wine-Pho-Slush-Puppies-andLive-Bait.aspx
.... are you feeling any better?
Sabine:  my kind of place. I'm maintaining. I haven't gotten sicker. Sinus congestion is being handled by meds and the scratchy throat hasn't turned into a full blast sore throat. I'm taking this to mean that the emergen-c powder I snorted is doing some good.
me:  did you really snort it?
Sabine:  How do you take Emergen-c?
me:  You put the powder in the vodka, jackass.

So now another thing that I am seriously desperately looking forward to is going for pho in a place that sells Slush Puppies. That may be the last Slush Puppy machine in Shreveport. Or in the WORLD. 



.... Woah.  "Bait Shop Pho" would be a righteous punk rock band name.  Somebody get some talent and get on that.

Feel better soon, Sabine.

Coronation, Spring Sling, and Tournament of Champions weekend

I should know better than to overextend myself to the point that I just don't like humans because even comprehending their existence is just too much work for me.  I did that this weekend, by the way.

God, it was fun.

Lemme recap:

Friday - left work, went to the doctor, got the verification that yes, what do you know, it IS an ear infection! Then I went to get my fantabulous friend Charles from the airport after he'd been traveling for something like 15 hours.  We ran some errands he needed to tend to, him punch-drunk from being awake and flying for eons and me because shots of steroids and antibiotics make me a little bit fun to be around.  Wheeee!  We headed out to Lake Bistineau (Charles's purpose for being in town was an SCA event he was cooking for), I stayed for a little while, and then my punch drunkiness and I went home for bed.  For reasons I still haven't grasped I didn't sleep well, and it was a long and restless night. 

Saturday - the Beekeeper and I got up and out of the house by 8 AM so that we could make it back out to the SCA event for the morning festivities.  Moose and Bri's final court was great.  Havordh and Gana's Coronation ceremony was sweet, and Ifor made me cry a little bit.  The rest of the morning was spent visiting with sweet friends I have missed dearly and turning over my proxy letters for the Pelicans'* meeting that I was going to miss to go be a derby girl later... and I'm definitely a little sad about that.  See, I knew that when the time came for a polling, my dear Jeanie was surely going to be polled positively on, but I wasn't expecting an announcement about her impending elevation to be made that night.  I'm a touch heartbroken that I missed it, but whenever, wherever her elevation is - I'm going to be there.  Even if it is on Mars and it conflicts with my own investiture of Empress of the World (which I can totally reschedule, because I'll be the boss by then).  Sooo- bittersweet on that. Thrilled that my dear friend is being recognized but sad that I wasn't there to see her face when it was declared.

ANYhow- we got home a bit after noon, and I tried to take a nap. Didn't work.  The trip to Jacksonville was uneventful.  The dressing rooms of pop-up tents behind the rink actually kind of rocked... it was a pretty day and locker rooms, even good ones, usually smell like stale hockey player and ham sandwiches.  I was cranky due to just being sleepy, a little nervous (though not nearly as bad as last time), and just a bit wonky.  It passed.

Game recap- I was skating as Blocker 2 in 3 lineups.  At least 4 times when those lineups came around- Blocker 2 was in the box.  Discouraging, but... eh. Whatchagonnado?  I yelled like a damn fool instead.  I went hoarse cheering and felt like I contributed better in the jams I was in than I did last time, so that's something.  I wasn't nearly as nervous this time, which helped.  We were skating in front of a much smaller crowd- which helped.  I've seen one video so far of a jam I was in and... it was better than last time. I'm still not thrilled with my skill sets but I have a feeling that I'm getting closer to a lightbulb moment.

And then there was a party.  Oh yes.  There was a party, and it was lovely, and there was bourbon and pole dancing (I engaged in the former but not the latter).  I got back to my room at around 3 AM, and we woke up at 7:30 which was a special sort of hell but entirely necessary.

Sunday - I'd like to say I was super productive but really, all I accomplished was picking Charles up, dropping him off at the airport, napping, reading most of a book, and playing trivia.  I got invited to play on a Tournament of Champions team at the pub, and while Team Chum Bucket did well- we didn't win money, just tickets to a Mudbugs Playoff game that I'm not able to go to since it conflicts with my reunion this weekend. Oh well. It was fun, and the french fries were amazing.

--

When I first decided that, for 40 days, I was going to banish all animal proteins AND soda from my diet, I was a bit delusional.  Soda lasted for over half of it - but is back.  It's back in moderation, though, not nearly to the degree it was first.

As for meat?  I've not fallen off the wagon at all, however - I WANT TO.  This has become a stubbornness thing and not a health thing, which I don't like, but I really honestly miss fish, and just to make it clear - I would probably stab you with a spork for a rare tuna steak right now. And don't even get me started on salmon. Or crawfish. Or even shrimp, and I'm not really a huge shrimp fan.  EvilSara, being my best enabler has actually figured out the math for sunrise in New Zealand on Easter Sunday vs. where I'm going to be at that precise moment in the event I should feel the need to play the "Screw it, it's Easter somewhere" card and you know what? I might do that.  I'm NOT EVEN CATHOLIC.

I don't think that I'll be allowing pork or poultry back in, though (and beef wasn't really a factor to begin with).  Honestly, I feel REALLY good these days, and I do believe that diet has been a large part of that.  I think that I'll be able to practice moderation, though, and allow back in some fish now and then without compromising whatever progress I've made in that department.




*For those not in the SCA - the Order of the Pelican is kind of like the "lifetime award for service" in our organization.  Present members are allowed to have input (or polling) before the decision is made to induct a new member.

Two things, having nothing to do with one another.

Sabine has inspired a new word in the Tribal Language (which I'm pretty sure we still call Squidspeak): scarcasm. The word that I inspired is agnuish.  Personally, I like scarcasm better, but we're all about full disclosure up in this joint, right? Right. If any of you actually geek out on etymology enough to want to write an appropriate definition for either, feel free.

--

Amazon sent me an email this morning subjected "Now available: The Unclaimed Baby."  Clicking on the email led me to see that that's the title of a Harlequin Romance and that Amazon hasn't gone into adoption facilitating, so it was short-lived excitement but I had a few great seconds of thinking that my dad had upped the ante in his attempts to get me to adopt a herd of children.

In lieu of actual content...

1.) What smell brings you a fond memory?

There is a particular combination of diesel, motor oil, and dirt that smells exactly like every truck my dad ever had when he was still in the oil field.  It smells the best when the truck is slightly warm, and seems to go with vinyl seats and a haze of sheen on the floorboard that will stain the cuffs of your pants if you're not careful about how you get in.  I find that smell accidentally, sometimes, usually when I'm going to look for something in one of our shop trucks at work.  It doesn't bring me a specific memory, but just a general sense of happiness in the wooshing back of my childhood. 

2.) What song makes you nostalgic?

Not that it's the only one, but here lately Possum Kingdom by the Toadies has been making a comeback.  It reminds me of the summer in between my Sophomore and Junior years in High School, when Squid and I worked together at McDonald's and were dating a brother and sister that lived in Converse (Mary, who is still amazing, and Corey, who still looks a little bit like Lyle Menendez).  Between the four of us, I was the one with the vehicle I wasn't sharing with a parent and so the 4 of us spent a lot of time crammed into the front seat of my tiny Mazda truck.  We went to the public landing a lot with our portable CD player, and while I'm pretty sure that it was actually Green Day's "Dookie" album that we listened to the most, I remember very clearly the indignant, loud, 4-way damned argument that broke out over whether or not this song was about vampires or rape.  That fight resulted in one person choosing to walk home and a breakup that probably lasted for at least 3 days (which was a very long time, back then).  Wikipedia says "neither" (where the hell was that 16 years ago?) but I still think it's about vampires.  And I still think Corey was kind of a dumbass for saying rape.

3.) What taste reminds you of school?

Thunderbird with grape Kool-aid. Not that I've HAD Thunderbird with grape Kool-Aid since school, but I can still remember what it tasted like.

4.) Which season makes you remember the most things in your past?

Autumn.  I get super nostalgic around Halloween/ Day of the Dead.  No particular reason; almost every deceased person I miss passed in the summer or winter.  I don't get nostalgic for football or marching band. Honestly... I'm not sure much of consequence has ever happened to me in the autumn but it's still my season for reminiscing. 

5.) Which memory do you treasure?

It's no secret that I have an awful memory but I seem to do just fine at remembering the important ones.  I remember when I met Squid, Sabine, James, and John, all specifically. I don't remember exactly when I met Evil Sara but I do remember lots of memories of her from before we were BFFs and still just Freshmen/Sophomores at LSC.  I remember when all my favorite kids were born, a few extra special first kisses, and more than a few times when one of the people I love made me laugh so hard I couldn't breathe... or started snorting.  So- given that I have such a crappy memory, we'll just say that anything I do remember is probably still there for a great reason.

Wherein Sabine will likely ridicule me for still liking Pantera...

Yesterday a handful of us did a 6 mile riverfront skate.  I plan on going back, maybe even this weekend, and doing the full length of the available trail (8.9 miles round trip).  In celebration, I've made myself a skating playlist of angry grungy metal-ish sort of music that is concrete proof that I didn't find much at all wrong with 1992-1995.  Anthrax, Ugly Kid Joe, Pantera, and LL Cool J all in one place.  It makes me happy, and I'd share it with you but I'm afraid it's just too awesome to unleash on the internet, and anyway, slap bracelets have already started making their comeback and I don't want to be responsible for that kind of thing.

This is still awesome. You know it is.

While skating, the revolving sign at Centurytel informed me that ZZ Top and Lynyrd Skynyrd are coming to town, which might just be the best musical act to come to Bossier since the last time Lynyrd Skynyrd came to Bossier.  I've seen both bands, loved them, and will pay a ridiculous amount to freakin' Ticketmaster to do it again.  I will also sing along to every single song- badly- and I will chant "Freebird" like a moron.  I'm looking forward to it already.

I just realized that I made a reference earlier to how the last time I saw ZZ Top was "A few years ago."  A few years ago when Jeanie was pregnant with Kenny... and seeing as Kenny just got his Black Belt in karate, is only a few inches shorter than me, and has his own iPhone, I'm officially doing That Thing that Old People Do.  Dammit.


Annnd that's it. I'm preoccupied.  One of my dear ones called a bit ago and is rushing to town on account of his mom having an emergency surgery.  While I'm delighted to have a chance to put up a buddy in the guest room and do some catching up, I'm also kinda worried. 

Have a shiny weekend!

Wherein our heroines work it out re: grammar and unicorns.

I am the only person in the entire world who can change her diet pretty majorly AND increase physical activity AND go camping for 3 days AND still maintain the exact same weight.  To the OUNCE.  I win, guys.

I'm not really complaining.  Weight doesn't matter so much to me these days.  I'd still LIKE to lose another 20 lbs, because I'm pretty sure that's one of the requirements of keeping my ChickCard that also gets me out of things like changing my own tires and squashing potentially venomous spiders.  Anyway- the fascinating thing to me today is that in 2 weeks, my body fat percentage has dropped and my resting metabolism has increased by something like 300 kcals.   

Oh! And Sabine bought me a present and even though she isn't owning it I'm becoming more and more certain that it might be a unicorn.  See how good she is at throwing me off the trail:

me:  grammar check? Boughten vs. bought.
me:  "Grandma gave me a store-boughten dress" is correct.  "Sabine has boughten me a unicorn" is not correct?  I mean, not the fact of the unicorn you have in your office, but it should be "Sabine bought me a unicorn" right?
Sabine:  Hypothetically speaking it should be "Sabine bought me a unicorn." - if I in fact had bought a unicorn. But I'm not owning the purchasing of a 108 inch unicorn.  If I bought a 108 inch unicorn it would require way more than just 3 AA batteries to operate. just sayin'
 me:  That's just for the glow collar. Unicorns don't take batteries... but it's ok.  I'll pretend I don't really know what it is. That way I can be "surprised."
Sabine:  I hope your Hypothetical unicorn will provide you with years of joy.
 
Yeah. Hypothetical. Sure.
--

Gulf Wars was great. I thought about doing another Top10 List, as has been done in previous years, but... no.  The weather was great, the company was stellar, I wasn't there long enough for the sheer volume of people or even specific people to make me feel the need to go hide in the parking lot.  I had some great moments with people I adore.  Brent's Knighting and John's earning of his squires' chain were both very awesome to be a part of.  It was good but I'm not putting together a punchlist... I'd forget something.  We'll just say it was exactly what I needed for exactly as long as I needed it, and I came home feeling amazing, loved, healthy, and my feet didn't hurt.   

--

Day 4 already? It's going fine.  Yesterday I didn't have anything I'd call a craving but I did feel a little more short-tempered and impatient than is typical.  Today I'm as happy as a basketful of kittens with a fresh ball of yarn and I'm hugging everybody I work with so maybe the crazy has passed... then again, maybe this is the crazy. 


--


If anybody has any great ideas on how I ought to fancy-up my helmet and wiffle ball bat for San Fermin in Nueva Orleans, holler.  It feels like July is going to be here very soon and I do so wish to be... er, the Bulle of the Ball? That just doesn't sound right.  Ideas, people!

Your Monday Crazy Advisory!

So, um.... I may have quit smoking cold turkey about 36 hours ago.

Or I may not have. I bought a "GreenSmoke" Electronic cigarette, which gives you nicotine but no tar and fiberglass and fertilizer and...stuff (we're just gonna call it stuff for now), so I really don't know what you call it.  But I am visualizing the e-cig as a "help me stop smoking" therapy item and so that's what it is for me.  Just like Chantix was but without the added fun and benefit of the BatShitCrazy and the spontaneous crying and the vivid dreams and the irrationality.  So really, I'm pretty much taking the fun out of quitting.

So my plan WAS to use the e-cig to slowly rule out smoking in certain places. Like my truck to start, and then I'd work it out from there.  And yesterday, I woke up and was going to stop and get cigarettes and I just kept putting it off, because really- this 'lil gadget is keeping the edge off but it doesn't have an odor and that's the thing that's been getting to me lately, the stank of being a smoker along with this little niggling idea in the back of my head somewhere that MAYBE I'd be a better athlete if I weren't doing it, because I think I read that in a book somewhere and books are always right.  Instead of buying cigarettes I went and spent 3 hours detailing my truck and decided that I was just going to do this, and so doing this is what I'm doing.      

I've quit multiple times before (the longest was for... 6ish months?) and I can't swear that this time is going to be different but I think that I am ready for it to be, and this is the absolute BEST time to be a non-smoker because it's spring and I love the smell of grass and honeysuckle. 

So- there's your advisory.  If'n I seem a bit touched or off or maybe a little antsy, chances are that it isn't you.  Patience will be appreciated for the next little bit.

Time for some Happy.

This week has kind of sucked.

Work is picking up.  I'm the Office Queen for a seasonal business and this time of year, things start getting hinky.  I imagine bears coming out of hibernation require a little bit of time before they hit their summertime groove, and that's what this feels like.  I'll be fine in a week or so as I get myself back into the swing of how things are for the busy 8 months of the year around here.  In the meantime though- my stress level has gone up higher than I typically allow, and I need to refocus some after-hours attention on letting it go. 

Normally, I take a 10-day vacation in March and I start getting ready for it in early February. This week, due to a number of factors I've cut it down to 3 nights/2 days, and I start getting ready for it... tonight. This shouldn't be a problem, but it feels very discombobulated.  If I forget something, I'm going to not have a second chance to remember it, and instead I'll just find myself mooching off of my friends if it's that important. I doubt that's going to be a problem though... most of my friends are the human embodiments of Swiss Army Knives and they always pack extra. Heck, I usually pack extra... but this year, I'm just going to kind of jump and hope it works. After all- it's just a couple of days. I can do without anything but my pillow for that long.  The important thing- in the very near future I'll get to enjoy time with some of my dear ones, and when you take that into context, it doesn't matter if you forgot your shoes. Which I just realized I don't have on my packing list...

On a very high note though- full vegetarianism is treating me very well. I'm feeling pretty awesome, and I've only felt a twinge of longing once when the roommate was frying boudin (but seriously, Ghandi would want some of that).  I'm sleeping soundly, I've got good energy levels, and I don't find myself craving salt or pickles or bananas, so I'm thinking that I'm being pretty well balanced.  It would be PERFECT if I could find a locally available and yummy nut-free granola that didn't have candy in it... but then again, I still want that unicorn, and some degree of want is good for you.

So, yeah. Lent is the trial run, but I'm putting serious consideration into just staying on this wagon once Easter passes.  We'll see how that goes.

This is my guilty pleasure song of the day.  Do share it with me? 

Wherein our heroine is a graceful creature of poised elegance and then stays up too late.

So last night we started a run of minimum skills requirements testing.

Last time I did the timed 25 laps- I sucked. I got 20.5.  Last night I only got 23... but I also managed to wipe myself out in the most spectacular manner possible with the timer running. In one fall--- unassisted by anybody other than myself- I managed to land on my ass, my ear, and my thumb. Actually- I may have rolled over my own thumb because sometimes, I just channel a gazelle and it's so hard to hold back that urge. I completely knocked the wind out of myself.   I do know that the thumb isn't broken and that's really about all I can say for it.  Anyway. I'll be doing that again next week (timed laps, not "interpretive Serengeti dance of joy on wheels").  And if I don't get my 25, I'll be doing it again the week after. This is something that I am capable of doing when people aren't watching and/or timing me- I'm certain.  So I just need to turn that part of my brain off and get the crap done, preferably while remaining in a relatively not-on-my-ass sort of position. 

And in a more somber note, one of the freshies totally gets the "derby practice sucked" trophy.  Looks like she's going to be having surgery for a spiral ankle fracture and I'm very heartbroken for her.  Out of respect for her and her cast, I shall now stop complaining about my black thumb and get the hell over it.

--
I'm not going to stop complaining about my heinous bout outfit, though.  I really thought that it was fine in the mirror but all I see in the pictures are big biceps and a high waist that isn't flattering at all. And boobs. I normally don't complain about those but the ensemble looks far less "sassy" and far more "trailer park" than I was going for.  Sabine and I have a plan. After seeing my ass on Youtube I'm thinking that my long-suffering housemate is going to be forced to use his helmet cam to tape me skating in the street in a selection of outfits.  We'll work it out, anyhow.

--
Last night, I got home from practice, crawled into the bathtub, and proceeded to read 3/4 of Bailey's Cafe over again just because I was feeling a bit homesick for the book and wanted to crawl up inside it.  This resulted in my actually going to sleep at 2:30ish, which was not a Very Good Idea.  I can't brain today, kids. I have the dumb.

Look, guys! I'm NOT DEAD!

So, alright. I'm still processing a lot of the weekend but here's the stuff I've got in words thus far:


When I first got interested in the idea of derby, I read blogs and as many websites as I could. Some blog somewhere had a collection of peoples' bout day rituals. Things like "take a nap" and "have a long lunch with my derby wife" and "go for a nice mile long run and meditate with a pony."  Those people live in a different universe than us. In our universe, we showed up at 1 to get the rink ready and didn't leave again until the bout was over and the rink was cleaned up.  Nap? Seriously? I'm glad I had the forethought to bring food I could eat on a nervous stomach with me, because I don't think I'd have left otherwise, even to run to the grocery across the street.  Obviously we need a bout production staff that's made up of people who aren't skating and who aren't working the bout itself, but then, we also need a unicorn on that staff so that he can glitter the track for us with his magical horn of glitter sprinkling.  I'm not complaining, though.  Having lots to do and keep my mind busy was great for me. It kept me from getting into the mad panic stage of the day until the doors opened at 6... and then the bottom kind of fell out and I got all the nerves all at once and suddenly I was not having any fun at all. 

That expression kinda sums it up.

I didn't quit or even threaten to- though the thought crossed my mind.  According to EvilSara, I was pretty much shaking visibly and I don't doubt that. I do know that I was nervous enough to be really rude to people that I really like and I feel like a major ass about that.  So- the skateout portion was a nightmare for me. I didn't care much for the "demo jam" to show the rules, either... but once the game got going, I was much better. I think I even had some fun in the second half.  By the end I was considerably less hating-of-the-world, and was able to spend a few minutes with my sister and her kids and other loved ones who came.

I love that muffin and the amazing girl who made it (Katie, who is holding the poster).

See the 5 on my arm? That was a good hit.

Mi familia.

By the time I settled the evening's attendance numbers with the rink owner (671 + the free kids + skaters and volunteers), helped clean up, and got in a friend's truck to go find the afterparty I was absolutely crunchy and drained. We stayed at the afterparty for about an hour, if that, before I grabbed my people and we went home so I could try to let myself reinflate or decompress or... whatever.  It was good, though. The 12 or so of us that made it back to the house had some pretty educational conversations and then I managed to get something like 5 hours of sleep, if that. Daylight Savings time threw me off, but I didn't feel exhausted or even extra specially sore... just really emotionally hungover and kind of weepy and very "don't talk to me, k?" 

Fortunately Sunday was a low-key day.  I had a ton of things I had planned on getting done but ended up napping through a movie with Mouse, Squid, and Kevin, then went and enjoyed a gorgeous afternoon hanging out with a friend whose car had stranded him. Unfortunately there was no Sunday afternoon solution to that so it turned into a lovely dinner with said friend, dragging said friend to the skating rink for a little bit, and then fixing up the guest bed for said friend to sleep in until Toyota could get him figured out this morning.  Not what I'd planned at all but a good way to slowly come back from my little funk I'd landed in. 

And now- here we are. It's Monday. I have practice tonight and I FINALLY put on the new wheels that have been driving me nuts for a week (I wasn't going to do a wheel change right before a bout so I had to sit on them til now and they're SO PRETTTTTTY). 

Oh, right. And we won. Apparently the actual score was 234-61 which wasn't exactly what I thought it was but I was pretty dumb by that point.

Now- I've got a hell week of work ahead of me (working in 2 offices, getting ready for a home show, getting ready for a radio live remote and the seasonal pickup of the business in general makes for a stretched-out office queen), but it ends on Thursday because baby brother and his fiance and I are heading down to Lumberton to go camping with 4000 of our closest friends and see a very dear family member get some very well deserved recognition, so that shall be my light at the end of this tunnel.
Granted, I've not actually started packing yet but I'll work it out.

Well, damn.

My heart is pretty much broken for Japan right now.

Happy Fat Tuesday! Now go away.

It is Fat Tuesday and I have the BEST PLAN EVER for my Carnivale evening!  Are you ready for this?

I'm going to go home. 
I'm going to put on my comfy PJs.
I'm going to grill up a little bit of salmon.
I'm going to sit on the couch, watch a movie, listen to the Refreshments, write, sew, read a book, and play with my dog ALL AT THE SAME TIME while balancing a book on my head, if I want to...
And I'm going to enforce a "no cell phone, no texting, no computer" moratorium on myself without feeling guilty about missing a call or text.  I've got the house to myself thanks to Beer Club for the roommate, and I am going to take advantage of it for one glorious evening... and then I'll be bored and ready for people again, and maybe a lot less irritable, snappish, and irrational. Wouldn't that be nice?  If you've not been interacting with me today you are missing out, let me tell you.  I am SUPER awesome. And sarcastic.

I'm not broken, I'm not mad, no, you didn't do anything, I swear.  I'm just crunchy and crispy and frayed and the redhead needs to plug into her docking station and charge.

I so wouldn't wear shoes in my bubble. Just sayin'. Buy me one and I'll prove it.

Just because he's psychic, a friend sent me this this morning. I'm contemplating making it required reading for all of the people who are ever entrusted with being the grownup in charge of watching me.  The timing of it was perfect in one of those ways that things never really are- so thanks, Paul. 

This is me not thinking about it.

Just so we're clear, The Thing I'm Not Thinking About is the upcoming bout. It's my first one to skate in and as of today a few shy of 650 tickets are sold and kids under 10 are free (and not holding tickets) and then there will probably be tickets sold at the door.  I'm not sure what my actual statistical odds are of whatever dumbass thing I do ending up on YouTube is, but I could probably crunch some numbers, if I were letting myself think about it.  Instead, I'm going to think about EVERYTHING else.

--
So, I'm pretty sure Butterbean here at work told me that he was giving up Skoal for Lent because if Jesus could wonder in the desert for 40 years he could give up spitting in a cup for 40 days.  I love my job so very much some days, it hurts.

Lent.  I haven't made an attempt at Catholicism for well over a decade and I do not identify as one, but I do always try to observe Lent in some way by sacrificing something that I would be well served to do without.    This year, I started out planning BIG- but after a conversation with EvilSara, who is apparently taking this year's turn with the RealityBat, I've toned it down to something that's actually attainable.  I don't like setting myself up for failure, and I was.

So- I've backslid a bit on my dietary habits.  I was being a pretty good pescetarian-with-the-occasional-poultry there for a long time, but my adjusted schedule (skating, spring in general, and now work is getting crazy with the busy season) has wreaked havoc on the things that I consume.  I've not been bringing my lunch to work with me and at the end of the day it has been far too convenient to hit a drive-thru-- and I really do NOT enjoy fast food. So I've been both eating junk and not liking it, and even if my weight or shape hasn't suffered I think my health and energy may have and I know that my sense of self discipline has.  Thus, the first adjustment is to kick it totally Vegetarian-style for Lent and hopefully without very much junk involved.  When you're allergic to nuts being a vegetarian is a total pain in the ass, but at least I love soy. That's something.  I also have a blender that is smarter than I am- it did my tax returns for me and got me a hell of a refund, and it also makes amazing shakes.  I'll live, and hopefully emerge with some healthier habits post-Easter.

My next adjustment is to eliminate all sodas in all forms, for the same reasons. I'd originally said all caffeine, but I'm not ready for that. I like coffee and tea in moderation but don't consume either in large quantities. Coke Zero is pretty much useless. 

Finally- I'm going to be a more reliable housekeeper.  I'm going to put the laundry away when it is done.  I'm going to unload the dishwasher once it has run. I'm going to stop using the big chair inside the front door as the landing pad for everything that I don't feel like dealing with.  I've always prided myself on keeping a relatively tidy home and my recent lack thereof is jacking with my zen, and there's no excuse for that.

For now, though- it's the last weekend of Mardi Gras. While you couldn't drag me to another parade for love nor money, I do plan on indulging just a little bit here and there and I shall nap in abundance.  I'm also going to work some more on my love letters because that is turning out to be such an indulgence, and I'm loving it.  Happy Carnivale, ya'll.

Questions, Answers, and Love Letters

According to The Internet, March is Question and Answer Month.

I do not promise to answer every question because if you're asking for something like my credit score or home address, that's just not going to happen.  I will, however, promise to answer every reasonable question, even the uncomfortable ones as honestly as I'm able, though I am the one deciding what is reasonable.  Now that the wiggle-room has been installed, go for it.  If'n you want to ask something, I'd love to answer you.
Probably.

--

Apparently, the 10th day of the Month is supposed to be "love letter day". I'm half tempted to accept mailing addresses from people who want an outrageously mushy yet entirely fabricated hand-written and possibly scented love letter.  Is that creepy or awesome?*  I used to have amazing love letter writing chops, back in the day when I was in high school and sending my boyfriends off to Basic Training or jail.  I suspect that I'm taking this idea in NOT THE DIRECTION that Boompoet intended for it to go when he posted his own entry, but he won't be surprised... and I'd kind of like to see if I still know how to write a letter.  We'll see.

--

So, skating in my first bout in 9 days, and it looks like 650 tickets are sold and that doesn't take into account that kids get in free.  HolyShit, ya'll. 

--

The new Dropkick Murphys album makes me very happy.

*No, really. Creepy or awesome? I need a ruling.

Two posts in one day isn't always a good thing.

I am not listening to Tom Petty anymore.  Now I'm listening to Body Count and it really isn't quite angry enough.  Surprisingly, I'm still in a really good mood I'm just all indignant at the moment... and I'm venting so I can go back to my happy place.

So here's the thing.

I've met some REALLY nice people from the Internet.  A couple of them I consider to be good friends now, all because of sites such as OKCupid or Match and the like.  Granted, I've also met some folks who I think probably need a lesson in honesty in advertising but it what happens, and it doesn't mean that the impression is an entirely negative one.  You know how menu photos of food rarely really resemble what shows up?  Well, that's because menus are using the food item's eHarmony* picture.  Sometimes what you get isn't exactly what it looked like on paper but I've had very few bad experiences with meeting people via the Interwebz.

So, today, meeting a new person for lunch. No big deal, right? Well, ok, I make EVERYTHING a big deal but in the grand scheme of things, this isn't major, it's lunch.  We find one another, we sit down, we order, and we start talking. He starts talking.

Turns out, by "separated/divorced" he actually meant "haven't gotten around to leaving my wife yet but it's totally on my to-do list and right now I think I just want to run around some to make sure I'm sure, but it's all kind of the same thing, right?" 

Seriously, I don't have a lot of deal-breakers.  Looking at my dating history I daresay I'm pretty damned open-minded (Sabine would say way too damned open minded, but then, Sabine loves hearing the stories).  HOWEVER...

Lemme just say this - and I'm going to preach it like I'm the One Who Makes The Rules.  "Still Married" is not "Separated." Separated means - We've moved out. We're working on figuring out whose Grateful Dead T-shirt that was in the first place, but one of us has signed a lease somewhere else, or gone back to Momma's, and we're done with this and we're going to get to a lawyer soon but we may have to wait for our tax return.  Life might still be messy but we're done. That's what "Separated" is.  Once you've hit "Separated," if'n you think you are ready for it then fine- go put yourself on the dating-and-eligible market. Get yourself a profile or a wingman, and have at it, just disclose your status clearly.  And- in the event it needs saying- "Divorced" means that you're NO LONGER MARRIED. Right? Right.

If you've not gotten to one of those points, though, and you just absolutely positively can't refrain from shopping around, do the rest of us a favor and go find a "married but looking" website or support group or whatever.  I don't adhere to that set of ethics but whatever.  Call it what it is, though.  That way any participants (or potential ones) in your activities are at least fully informed and not sitting across from you in public contemplating hitting you in the nose because you're breaking the rules.

And no. I did not stick around for the food to actually get to the table (nor did I initiate any physical violence). I left. Because that's what righteously indignant derby girls do when people break the rules of common sense and fair gameplay. Instead, I came back to work and had lunch with my office girls, and now I'm going to order myself a new set of skate wheels just because I can because married men annoy me and wheels are cooler than a little black dress any day.  But first, I'm going to watch this clip of my very favorite example of RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION.

*Nope. I do not, nor will I ever again, have an eHarmony profile. I did, once, about 9 years ago or so. They FIRED ME.  eHarmony can burn.

A Most Stunning Weekend Recap

Friday night, I hit the Centaur float loading party with a few of the derby girls in search of the Grand Marshall so we could find out where we were in the lineup.  I'm curious as to how the Krewe actually gets any WORK done at said party, but that's beside the point.  We wondered around, didn't find the Grand Marshall but we did have a good time.  We climbed onto not one but TWO floats, and dude - anybody who is doing parades NOT on a huge float with a bar in the back is obviously doing Mardi Gras wrong.  I'm not going to go join a Krewe or anything, seeing as I wish to keep my 14.827 minutes of weekly free time all to myself but I'm going to have to find a way to bribe myself onto one of those floats eventually.  Somebody should get on my plan for that.  And then we went to a bar and skated in the bar so we could play with our outdoor wheels a bit, and it was good.

Anyway- Saturday morning we got the van, got to downtown, got our spot in line as # 72 and #73, and put on our skates to try out outdoor skating (since most of us hadn't actually done that yet).  It was fun.  Rolling around to the floats was a blast, and not just because the gypsies had jello shots.  Then we decorated our van, and then we waited. And waited. Being more than halfway back in the lineup got us on the road around 6:15, and off the road around 10:30ish, I think. 

Thoughts on parade skating:  The family section was great.  People were giving us beads and high-fiving and interacting nicely with us. A few mommas called us names that were a bit unsavory but nothing got out of hand. Then we went down the steep gravelly hill into the "adult" section and it wasn't nearly so fun.  People were harassing us to give them things (we weren't allowed to throw beads since we weren't a Krewe vehicle), getting into the road with us, slowing us down, cutting in front of the van that was trying to keep all of us in its headlights, and interacting in a not-as-nice way.  Also- with 70+ groups ahead of us, a lot of trash was on the road. I got a trinket's plastic bag wrapped around my axle and went down pretty hard on my knees, then was "assisted" by a drunk man with a pocket knife- good times.  Lots of beads/ beer bottles/ trash in general littered the road by the time the parade was reaching the halfway point and it didn't get better.  Also- 5.25 miles is a LONG way when you're dodging trash and drunk people.  We've got a plan for making a better parade experience for next year, though. My plan personally involves nightsticks and getting Mouse to make us a few stun guns out of disposable cameras. 

Oh, and in the interest of full disclosure, I didn't skate the entire distance. About a half a mile from the end I went to shoes so I could help try to prevent incidents (and because my toes were quite angry with me).  I so should have been a bouncer. I think I missed my calling.

--
So, we got home at Midnight from the parade, and even though Mouse was at the house did not really hang out with her at all. I took a bath, counted my bruises, and went to sleep hard. We'd brilliantly scheduled a 10 AM scrimmage with The Vixens for Sunday morning to run through NSOs and stuff.  I was surprised that I was both on time and not dead.  The roommate (whose new derby name is Bee-lz-Buzz) had his NSO staff ready to go and I think we did a good dry run.  Now we just have to do it again in front of all 650 spectators to whom we've sold tickets for this bout and try not to puke in the process. 

--
Monday I had to silence my cell phone because every 14 seconds I had another Facebook notification.  Seriously- I'm not sure when I've ever felt so freakin' loved ever.  I have the greatest people ever, and some of the little personalized birthday wishes just totally rocked my world.  And THEN! My cats sent me flowers. And THEN! Then my derby peeps brought me a cookie cake and a lovely card and a gift card AND a 12-pack of Woodchuck Cider, which just goes to show that they know that the way to my heart is by being filtered through my liver first... So the day ended on a very nice, very good, happy sort of note.

--
And now it is Tuesday, I've got my office door closed so I can listen to Tom Petty loudly without disturbing anyone, I've got a lunch date at noon and tomorrow is a vacation day. Life, it is good.

Note to Self.

Holy crap, ya'll. Tomorrow I'm gonna be 32! I'm excited.  I don't have a single "thing" planned besides a normal Monday but something about that is making me really happy this year.  I just sort of feel like all I've got to do is just be and it feels really good.

The past 10 years have been.... they've been a lifetime, really.  Sitting here today it seems like everything prior to 2001 is ancient history.  In an effort to commemorate, I thought I'd write my 22-year-old self a letter*.


---

Dear 2001 Sarah,

Welcome to Texas! You've already been here for two months, and it got off to a bad start.  Close friends suffered a major loss, you and your husband aren't acclimating well to your new jobs, and you're getting depressed.  You've been married for 7 months now.  It's not working for either one of you, and that stinks. You and him both feel like you're missing some sort of clue that is supposed to make this work, but if you want my honest opinion, I think you were both young, romantic, and dumb.  He's a great guy, and you're a great girl.  And here's some news... before too long, both of you are going to realize that there's not enough dedication in the world to fix it. You're just ill suited.  You're going to call it quits and you're going to have a little bit of hurt and some drama, but you two will emerge as friends... and his next wife is going to be absolutely amazing and he's going to make it work because he got his training wheel time in with you. So don't feel like a total failure... just don't be so shortsighted next time.  Not that you'll listen.

Shortly after your marriage ends, your mother is gong to get very ill, and she's going to pass away.  This is going to be a dark and miserable time, and you're going to have to set aside your own mourning to be there for your father, and it is going to be so very hard.  You'll have the support of some friends that want to be near but can't, not as much as they'd like.  You won't be alone but often you'll feel that way.  A long-distance love affair will keep you going and give you some hope but ultimately, you're not going to be good at long distance.  There's going to be more feeling like failure and that's a bad thing, because in 10 years he probably won't even really still be holding that against you, and you won't be holding it against yourself, either.  Unfortunately, you're going to drink too much and smoke too much and you really should remember to rest and try to do some healing. You won't- but you should.

A year or so later, you're going to meet a man at a club one night who seems so magical and charismatic and brilliant that you won't be able to believe your luck.  You're going to have to have surgery and he's going to take care of you and when you come out of your morphine induced haze a few weeks later, you're not going to bother telling him to go home.  This is going to end up sucking like a chest wound but I wouldn't undo it if I could, at least, not in it's entirety.  It is obviously a lesson you need to learn, but I would at least lock up your credit cards and tell a couple of your friends to keep a closer eye on you so that maybe it could end a few months earlier before it all got as bad as it did.  You're going to get hurt badly. You're going to end up broke and with a lot of debt.  You're going to end that chapter as a very sad, very insecure person, and you will feel like you've completely failed at life.  You're going to feel like Texas has completely and irreversibly broken you... and then you're going to leave Texas for Louisiana with nothing but "healing" on your mind.

As the years go by, you will learn to value the people that are important to you as the most cherished things you have in your life.  You are going to buy a home out in the woods where all of the ones dear to your heart can feel "at home" and you are going to take great joy in gathering them near.  You're going to heal, largely because of their amazing, dysfunctional, and perfect influence on you.  You're going to be built up better than you ever were before, and you're going to learn to trust in your ability to make decisions that aren't always bad for you.  You'll fall in love, again, and you'll fall out, but you'll take out of that one of the best friends you've ever had and a confidence that you can redefine relationships without losing them altogether, when it's right to do so.  You are going to lose people that you love very much, and you're going to mourn their losses with your family and friends, and you're going to shore one another up with love and a lot of bourbon.  You are going to have more blessings than you know what to do with and you will always find somebody who wants to spend their time with you because you're actually a fun person to be with.  You will have helped to build an amazing family that defies all practical definitions, but is perfect in it's impracticality.  You're still going to suck at "Capital R" Relationships but you're not going to mind so much, because you're so damned charmed in all the other parts of your life, so it's going to be ok.  You will only be alone when you want to be and you'll rarely ever be lonely.

You're going to lose some weight, get active, and you're going to end up actually looking forward to the joy that your next 10 years will bring, rather than just wishing they would get over with.  And then you're going to buy a pair of boxing gloves and then some roller skates and then a beautiful life is only going to get more enchanted. 

I don't want to ruin all the good parts, of course, so I'll close this out with this:  You'll realize one day, shortly before your 32nd birthday that you haven't been depressed in half a decade or more, not like you used to be.  You'll figure out that that excitement you feel almost every night when you go to bed is akin to that of a child on Christmas Eve, because you just can't wait to see what the next day will bring... and you're going to get to have that every day, because you're just really damn happy.

How badass is that?


Much Love,



31.999 year old You.



*Nope. Not an original idea. I stole it from a book.