if we're gonna make it then we're halfway there

First off, happy v. belated birthday to my sister, who turned an age that it is not delicate to print here on Thursday--I wasn't able to call because I was in training all day and then had to run to the first meeting of my writing class, which didn't get out until after nine p.m. (eleven p.m. in Iowa). Apologies, but I hope it was a good one!!

To the rest of you, I'm sorry that I haven't written in ages. Tammy came up Thursday night to stay with me for a week, and it's been great to see her, but this has put a small kink in my traditional blogging pattern since I'm typically ready to collapse by the time I finally go to sleep. We stayed up and did some catching up Thursday night; I worked all day Friday; we had dinner with Claudia Friday night; I spent most of yesterday cleaning my kitchen/bathroom, having brunch with Lauren, making potato/leek soup, and reading a romance novel; and I spent most of today sleeping in, followed by working on my own romance novel.

For those of you who have been intermitently checking the romance blog, be forewarned that I'm not going to update it anymore (and in fact am going to delete it)--I want to sell my novel, and I don't want the blog to jeopardize that. You'll just have to wait for it to come out in paperback! But, after my quick but v. productive writing session at Starbucks this afternoon, I am one chapter (3600 words) closer to finishing it. If only I could make myself sit down and write every night, I would be done in no time--so I'm setting a goal to finish my novel in October. Whether that will happen remains to be seen, but I've plotted it out so comprehensively that it should be possible.

After coming home, I talked to my parents, and then met Shedletsky for dinner. Tammy was 1.5 hours late for dinner (no surprise there), so Shedletsky and I had bruschetta, followed by mussels, and caught up with each other while waiting for Tammy. Once she arrived, we had main courses and coffee, and then loitered on California Ave. for half an hour, feeling like the hooligans that we most certainly weren't. After seeing both of them together, it felt like all was right with the world; or, if it was still wrong, it was wrong in the right kind of insane way, if that makes any sense.

Now I need to go to bed, so that I can begin the work week anew. Yippee. Goodnight everyone!

we were meant to live for so much more

[editors's note: this was supposed to post last night, but there was a problem with blogger]


I need to stop reading books about characters confronting their destinies--they just make me unhappy, because then I start panicking when I think about my own situation and the fact that life doesn't wait for you to figure out what to do with it. I actually like what I do at work, and find it interesting, and have every reason to be perfectly satisfied with it, and I accomplish a lot and am making serious progress with my career, etc. But, I have this lurking sense that I should be doing something else, that my fate (or my overactive ego/subconscious/whatever) demands a different path...and so when I'm reminded of that (such as when I read a book about confronting destiny), I suddenly become achingly unhappy with the pain of wanting something that I cannot quantify or name.

The longing to do something else is sometimes unbearably strong--like the strange urges I get to chop off all my hair, or move to a foreign country, or drive too fast through the foothills. All of my moves in the past year and a half have been triggered by this desire to do something wildly different from what I'm currently doing; yet in all cases, it was just a substitute for doing something that would actually get me closer to my destiny. It's like I keep choosing things that seem like what I should do (because they're hard/challenging) rather than what would be easy to do (because it may be my destiny). I don't know why I'm avoiding it almost as hard as I'm trying to embrace it, but I always avoid what feels right in favor of what feels difficult. I played the flute and piano growing up, even though my mouth was exactly the wrong shape for flute and my hands were too small to progress to octave playing; I chose SymSys for all the wrong reasons; I work in a field that I've never really felt passion for; and to be honest, even though I've never said it before, I think I would have liked Boston better and sometimes wish that I had gone to Harvard instead, even though I've loved Stanford and don't regret coming here.

Anyway, this won't be resolved tonight, and the regret that is clawing at my heart will eventually subside again into a dull throbbing that barely reminds me of its presence while I go about my successful daily life. Sleep will help; I always feel a bit ragged after a couple of days of early conference calls and late meetings, and so tomorrow should be better. I also have my first creative writing class tomorrow, and by the time I get home, Tammy will be here to stay with me for a week--and so life will be too fun for regrets. Yay.

what a concept...i could use a little fuel myself, and we could all use a little change

When I was in Iowa last week, I had lunch with my parents at Sharon's, the oft-discussed tavern in the back of the American Legion hall, where the menus are written on posterboard and tacked to the fake-wood-panelling walls, the main decorations are flourescent beer lights, and the waitress is charmingly obnoxious (although she is much-provoked by my father, so I can't blame her). I had never noticed the 'vegetable burger' on the menu before, but this time I did, and I commented to my parents that Sharon probably didn't sell many vegetable burgers, given the lack of vegetarians in the county. It was then that I learned that 'vegetable burger' does not mean 'fake burger made of vegetables'; instead, it means 'burger with vegetables' (in this case, lettuce, tomato, pickle, and onion). This actually makes a lot of sense; cheeseburgers, bbq bacon burgers, bacon bacon cheeseburgers, avocado burgers, etc., all denote what ingredients are included with the burger. Then again, a hamburger isn't made of ham, so perhaps I don't know what I'm talking about. The moral of this story, though, is if you are a vegetarian and you come to visit me in Iowa, you might want to bring your own entrees, since you won't find any substantial food in the restaurants in my hometown. Unless, that is, you can subsist on cheeseballs and breaded mushrooms, or french fries and iceberg-lettuce salads. Mmm.

I wasn't feeling well this morning, so I slept in and got to the office around 10:30. I more than made up for it by staying there until 11:30pm (with a break from 6:30-7:30 to run home, change into comfy jeans rather than my professional-seeming skirt, and grab some dinner). I have to be in the office by eight tomorrow, so I suppose I should go to bed. Hopefully I can get all caught up on my work this week so that I can have more free time starting next week; I am thinking about my romance novel all the time right now, and I want to strike while the proverbial iron is hot.

I leave you with the happy thought that, now that I have finished all travel for the foreseeable future, the TSA has lifted some of the bans on liquids, creams, and gels on airplanes. Look for another elevated threat level in December, since I'll be on my way home for Christmas then, but you can expect safe skies for the next few weeks. Lucky you!

for better or for worse

Is it a bad sign that my toes are still numb from standing around in my uncomfortable three-inch heels for eleven hours yesterday?

I'm back in California, after an uneventful flight that I was fortunate to make, given how much packing I had to do this morning. Yesterday was extremely fun, but I don't really feel like blogging right now. What I *do* feel like doing is writing my romance novel, but I think I should go to bed instead--I have a bunch of meetings tomorrow and hundreds of email messages to wade through, so I can't slack my way through my first day back in the office. But, you can see a few pictures from the wedding (as well as some random pictures from other activities this summer) below--and express your thanks to Katie for picking dress colors that match the scheme of my blog :)

Bedtime now, but I shall probably feel more talkative after a restorative ten hours of sleep. Goodnight!

Elaina, Katie, and I--unfortunately I have always been dwarfed by them, but our friendships have survived for over a decade despite my height deficiency. 

Me and my brother. 

My brother was not thrilled about Katie's nuptials :( 

Me and my friend Dave at Katie's wedding - Dave and I used to work at the convenience store together, back when I was the Pepperoni Princess. 

Downtown Seattle and the Space Needle--hello future! 

A few of the mafia kids in Seattle after Jasmine and Michael's wedding. 

Some of the random fireworks we shot off for Indian Independence Day. 

Claudia flying a kite by the San Francisco Bay (in July--many of these pics are rather delayed). 

The only good thing about Rawlins, Wyoming 

The house my father bought for a couple thousand dollars and moved to the round barn site--pretty sweet for the price of a designer handbag, eh? 

The Round Barn - if you have ever heard me complain about how the round barn managed to ruin most of my birthdays, you will be happy to finally see my nemesis. 

The view of my ancestral home from the opposite hill; the current house is obscured by trees, while the dirt pile has now been replaced by the beginnings of the new house (this pic was taken in July, so you can't see the new house yet). 

twist and shout

I'm exhausted, but I began to fear that a continued hiatus in posting might lead to a loss of my loyal fanbase. I spent eleven hours on three-inch glittery heels, trussed up in a corsetted dress that did wonders for my posture even if I was concerned about breathing too deeply...and it was all wonderful. Katie got married today, and the whole day was lovely; unfortunately I'm now running on fumes, since I spent last night with her after spending the day at a bridal tea/luncheon, the wedding rehearsal, and the rehearsal dinner (where her grandmother plied me with margaritas--that grandma can hold her tequila!). It was great to have one last night to convince her to run away with me instead of marrying James--I failed :( But, since we spent too much time talking, we slept for less than six hours, and I rolled out of there at seven to come home, take a shower, fix up my hair, grab my dress, and meet her at her hair stylist's to give her moral (morale?) support.

I can give a better recap of the wedding in the coming days--I have a couple of pics on my camera that I can post, and there are things that are worth sharing, but I *must* go to bed. I have to arise at seven tomorrow morning as well, since I have to finish packing and leave for the airport by nine. By tomorrow night, I'll be back in California! Then, it's business as usual, and those of you who live there should expect to see some of the truly awful movies coming out in the fall lineup. On those pleasant thoughts, I wish you sweet dreams--goodnight!

do you especially think i'm not a genius?

Today was a usual day in small-town Iowa; I woke up late, watched part of 'The Young and the Restless', took a shower, dolled up my hair and makeup--and spent a bit of extra time on it when I realized that I only have to make it three more years to *not* fulfill my senior prophesy. Some bitch on the senior yearbook committee wrote nice or at least normal prophesies for everyone in my class, but my prophesy would be that I would drop out of Stanford, move to Mexico, marry a goat farmer, and live in a barn, barefoot, with our four kids. Needless to say I was pissed, but the whole dropping out of Stanford thing didn't happen, and I don't think the four kids will happen either. Revenge was mine, of course, since she's not married to the guy she prophesied she would end up with, nor is she happily employed in Colorado; instead she's got two kids by two different fathers, and I believe neither of them is known. I shouldn't be happy about that. In fact, I'm rather apathetic about it. But, anyway, I digress.

So after cleaning myself up and donning my Versace sunglasses, thus becoming exactly the snob that my brother has accused me of being (but a snob with a heart of gold!), I went into town with my mother and had a lovely lunch at one of the two restaurants we always go to when I'm home. My father joined us a bit later, and I got to order cheeseballs--I only can get them here, since they haven't exactly taken California by storm. They're not the Cheetos-style cheesepuff variety; they're deep-fried balls of processed cheddar cheese. Mmm. My parents are clearly regulars, since the waitress knew to bring out an iced tea when she heard my father was coming. There were clearly other regulars there as well, as evidenced by the fact that a seventy-year-old man went back to sexually harass (jokingly, or at least non-threateningly) the waitress and she threatened to rip him some extra nose-holes with the oxygen tubes currently hooked up to his face. Ha!

The rest of the day was uneventful; I spent a bit of time on the phone with someone from work, and also spent a lot of time trying to plot out more of my romance novel. I'm backtracking a bit before starting again; I had started it during the National Novel Writing Month (two years ago! damn!) and didn't take a lot of time to plot then, but I wanted to do some character development before picking up the story again, since I feel that I don't know my characters well enough to write really effective or believable dialogue. Also, I like writing with a fountain pen in a lovely journal, but I don't want to write the whole book like that--scribbling down my character thoughts seems like a nice compromise.

My vacation is just flying by--tomorrow I have to spend cleaning up the detritus of my childhood so that my parents will have an easier time moving the contents of my room to the new house, and then I have wedding stuff on Friday in preparation for the actual ceremony on Saturday. Then, I go back to California! Sheesh. Too bad there's no beach here, and also too bad it's flippin' cold--I'm not used to taking vacations in non-warm, non-exotic locations :) Then again, with the amount of wildlife near the roads, this occasionally feels exotic--I'm probably in more danger of getting killed by an animal here than I was on that safari in South Africa, although I think I would rather have the drama of getting eaten by a lion over the mundane alternative of dying in a deer-induced car accident. Goodnight!

magic man

I'm in Iowa, home of my forefathers. I arrived on Saturday, after an exhausting journey marked by too little sleep and too much time spent on the shopping concourse of the Minneapolis/St.Paul International Airport. I had a fun time from 7-8am watching the woman working at The Body Shop explaining to all of her potential customers that she couldn't sell them anything in liquid, gel, or cream form--needless to say, she wasn't doing much business. I also bought a pair of sunglasses, and had breakfast at a restaurant; my layover was over four hours, which was frustrating, but somehow strangely relaxing. When I arrived in Des Moines, I went shopping with my parents, had a late lunch with them at our favorite restaurant (where the bar was playing the Iowa/Iowa State game, our big intrastate rivalry--the Cyclones lost tragically, much to the excitement of half the waitstaff and the chagrin of my family and the rest of the waitstaff), then came home.

Yesterday, my mom cooked an extreme amount of food for a joint birthday party for me and my sister. Then, I tried on my dress for Katie's wedding, which barely fit after my double helpings of ham, baked beans, scalloped potatoes, and lemon cake--but the dress fit like a glove when I tried it on this morning, so the stomach distension was apparently temporary. After my sister and her family left, I spent the rest of the afternoon napping. Yay!

Today, I went to a seamstress to get the dress shortened, spent the afternoon pretending that I was going to get up an accomplish something (but instead catching up on the soaps and watching Dr. Phil and Oprah), and then had dinner with my grandmother. You know you're back in Iowa when you can go out for dinner, both people can have chicken strips, baked potatoes, and iced tea, and the total for both people comes out at ~$12. I can easily spend that much on just myself for a meal out in California. Anyway, I came home, watched 'CSI: Miami' with my parents, and then played my gameboy.

It seems that I've completely reverted to my teen years--compensating for a lack of friends by spending too much time watching CBS and drinking tea. Actually, I had friends in high school, but none of them are here anymore--and when they were here, we didn't start hanging out a lot until I had a car, so the first couple of years of high school were characterized by a lot of 'Walker: Texas Ranger'. Yes, I watched his show before he was a cult icon...and I'm proud of it!

My vacation is going to go waaaaay too fast--it's not as relaxing as sleeping on a beach, but it's nice to see my family. Also, apologies for the lack of communication--my parents are having issues with their internet connection. Now, it's time for me to go to bed!

strange fruit from a forbidden tree

So, my birthday week (yes, I can drag my birthday across an entire week) has been relatively boring. That's been mostly my own fault; I haven't particularly felt like making lots of plans because I've been stressed about work, and I'm leaving tomorrow night for a sojourn in the land of my lost youth (a phrase that I continue to use with shameless abandon). So, I've done nothing more substantial than work, sleep, and read a bit to take my mind off work. I picked up a copy of 'The Areas of My Expertise' by John Hodgman, and I read about a third of it tonight--I had seen the author on 'The Daily Show' last fall, and thought he was hysterical, but the book had languished in my Amazon 'things to buy later' cart until I bought it on impulse while ordering the second season of 'Lost'. You can tell it's my kind of book--in his description of the states, he claims that Iowa is 'The Hobo State'. I've never been happier.

Let's go to the mailbag...


9/12/2006 ('happy birthday to me') comments:

Beaver Creek, Co. said...
As mentioned in the phone message - when you get to IA, you will receive a birthday gift(s) that will make your friends envious. You will be proud. Very proud. It meets all appropriate requirements - pink, utilitarian, ridiculous, of display quality, etc. Guesses will be entertained. But my PC access is questionable at this time.

Editor's response: I mentioned this to Vidya, and her exact response was:
'Vidya: IT'S A PUPPY
!!!!!!!!!
I AM JEALOUS!
MAN, I LOWE PUPPIES'
I really hope it's not a puppy. I have no idea what it is, but if it's a pink, display-quality (which probably means lapdog-sized) puppy, I'm not going to be thrilled.


felicia said...
70 is a little young to be in a nursing home, don't you think? why not shoot for 90? happy birthday, sara!!!

Editor's note: aim low and you won't be disappointed.


9/11/2006 ('look into your heart') comments:

Sammi said...
youre not that old aunt sara but i can see how u feel old considering your oldest neice is a FRESHMAN in highschool...remeber those days?

Editor's note: that doesn't seem possible. In fact, I refuse to believe that it's true. If I never come home again, I can believe that my nieces and nephew are pre-teens forever.


8/31/2006 ('don't you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say') comments:

Alan said...
It seems the Talbott family is bad news for restaurants. Years ago we ate at a place on the pier in Santa Barbara - up in flames the next week!

Editor's note: I'm not surprised by this--Walter could start a fire MacGyver-style with a piece of twine and some shards of glass, so it stands to reason that the combined powers of his family could result in a build-up of combustibility to the point of spontaneous ignition, even without twine or glass.


Okay, that's it for the mailbag and this post--goodnight, everyone!

happy birthday to me

My birthday/the national day of mourning is officially over, and we can all return to our regularly-scheduled lives. I'm glad that I'll hit all of my milestone birthdays on milestone anniversaries of 9/11--I'll turn 30 on the 10th anniversary, 40 on the 20th, etc. Hopefully I'll be one of those really cranky, obnoxious seniors, so that when I'm 70, I can make nasty jokes about the twin towers while the staff at my nursing home is trying to get us to make 50th anniversary collages or some shit.

Today was nice, albeit tame; I didn't clean up my kitchen tonight because I went out for an unexpected dinner with Terry and Claudia, and then had to work when I got home, so my kitchen is quickly turning into a biohazard. I have to clean tomorrow before I end up with cockroaches, mice, or other vermin--nothing drives me crazier than a dirty kitchen, so I shall overcome all of this tomorrow. Now, though, I should go to bed, since I have a conference call in five hours. Thanks for the birthday wishes, everyone!

look into your heart - you will find there's nothing left to hide

From CNN.com tonight: 'President Bush and other top officials joined thousands gathered across the country Sunday in tearful tributes, prayers and quiet reflection on the eve of the fifth anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks.'

Clearly they didn't get the memo about my birthday party.

Actually, it wasn't that raucous; it's hard to get too raucous on a Sunday afternoon, especially since I'm taking pains with my apartment to make it more grown-up (some mementos from college notwithstanding--the catfish, Prom King, and the hordes of romance novels are hardly adultlike, but I'm trying). But, most of my favorite people who were in the area showed up, and fun was had by all. No one had a heart attack on my premises, so hopefully this means that I will not be subject to a class-action lawsuit from my friends in the near future. Verdicts on the food:

1) The devilled eggs, corn casserole, spinach artichoke dip, and potato salad were all enjoyed, but were too standard to merit a lot of excitement.
2) The baked beans won quite a few converts to my mother's recipe; in fact, several people put them on top of their maidrites, which was a stunning innovation. Mine weren't quite the same as hers (I cooked mine with the lid on--was I supposed to?) but they were v. close and v. delicious. I'm going to eat them for dinner tomorrow night too! I bought some potato chips special for that occasion.
3) The maidrites (aka sloppy joes) were a hit with the nonvegetarians in the audience--particularly the one kid who was born in Minnesota, and the excitement when he heard that they were there was so visible on his face that everyone else laughed in stunned amazement. However, when I mentioned that they are also occasionally called 'loose meat sandwiches', some of my raunchier friends turned the conversation to decidedly-non-family-safe venues.
4) The chocolate chip chewies were devoured, but not at the rate I anticipated, which means I had an entire pan left over--I sent a bunch home with Claude and Vidya, and will take some to work tomorrow so that I don't end up eating them all (which I'm definitely capable of--I made them, so I can vouch for their ingredients, but they're so addictive that I'm sure fairies must be smuggling cocaine into the flour).
5) The Indian flag jello salad (which my family may recognize in the more familiar guise of Christmas ribbon salad, although I replaced the red layer with an orange layer) didn't set properly--I don't know what I did wrong! But, the jello salad was more for shock value anyway, so I don't care.
6) The strawberry shortcake was the sleeper hit of the party--and everyone was willing to try, and subsequently won over by, the idea of putting half and half on their strawberry shortcake. Mmm. I love strawberry shortcake so much, and these were perfect, especially w/the fresh strawberries I bought this morning, so it was fantastic.
7) The funfetti birthday cake wasn't even cut into, since we were too busy stuffing ourselves with strawberry shortcake--so I'll have to take it to work tomorrow.

Anyway, moral of the story is that I should have invited more people--there were people from work that I would have invited, but I didn't think I would have room. In actuality, no one even sat on the patio, so if the party had gotten bigger it probably would have split--and there would have been more people to eat the food and spread the cholesterol around. Oh, well, next time I'll change things up a bit.

My birthday party was fantastic, but I'm also glad it's over--as you can tell, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen the last two days, and after I clean up tomorrow, I'll want a break for a couple of days. Tonight was lovely, though, especially with the mix of oldest friends, newer-but-still-old friends, and friends from India. Also, Claudia stayed after everyone else took off, and we drank tea and caught up for a couple of hours--I hadn't seen her since before I left for Seattle, which feels like ages ago, since she was on the east coast all last week. So, all is well in my world again.

It's officially my birthday, and I'll be officially 25 in less than six hours (Iowa time--my birth time was 8:11am). Ugh. Haha. 25 isn't that bad, but then again every day is one step closer to the grave, so it's not like 25 is swell either. I'm going to go to bed now, and when I wake up I'll be old! Happy 9/11, everyone.

yes i am spectacular

Sorry for the hiatus--I've been busy, and therefore tired, and therefore not willing to forsake an extra ten minutes of sleep at the end of a hectic day in order to blog about said day. I should be going to bed immediately, but I felt like writing, and the constant urge to blog finally superseded the equally-constant urge to sleep.

I'm gearing up for my party tomorrow; my shopping list included:

3 pints sour cream
3 8oz. packages cream cheese
2 cans whole-kernal corn
2 cans creamed corn
2 boxes jiffy cornbread mix
3 packages butter
2 packages chocolate chips
2 10oz. packages frozen spinach
1 can crushed pineapple
5 lbs. hamburger
miracle whip
white bread
hamburger buns
Bisquick
strawberries
half and half
4 dozen eggs
10 lbs. potatoes
1 funfetti cake mix
1 container funfetti frosting
bacon
1 can pork and beans
instant onion
mustard seed
ketchup
more ketchup
1 container of Cool Whip
lemon, lime, and orange jello

If you recognize all the fixin's for a true Midwestern feast, you would be correct, and you deserve a chocolate chip chewie (there's plenty of those here--I baked two batches tonight). I went grocery shopping at 10pm last night to avoid a) the crowds and b) the judgmental stares of the well-heeled residents of my neighborhood, who would probably look askance at my heart-attack-inducing cart o' goodies while they stood in line with their fresh vegetables and their skinless chicken and their classy bottles of white wine. They don't know what they're missing--today, I churned out ~8lbs. of potato salad, 36 boiled eggs (which I'll turn into deviled eggs tomorrow), a funfetti cake, two batches of chocolate chip chewies, 5lbs. of maidrites (aka sloppy joes), and a Jello salad that looks like the Indian flag. I also cleaned my room, cleaned my living room, kept up with the endless dishes produced by my cooking frenzey, and did three loads of laundry. And, I went to the mall and bought a vase and some makeup, and stopped on the way home to buy flowers for my living room. All in all, it was a productive day, so things should be okay tomorrow, although there's still a bit left to do--I have to go back to the store to procure ice, beverages, and more ketchup and butter; make spinach/artichoke dip, strawberry shortcake, baked beans, and corn casserole; clean my bathroom; clean my patio; clean up the remnants of stuff in the kitchen; and make myself look presentable for my danged friends. That means it's bedtime, or else I'll sleep 'til noon and not get everything done.

I am glad that I'm celebrating my birthday tomorrow, though--it looks like Monday promises to be frustratingly somber, as I expected the fifth anniversary of 9/11 to be. I may just switch my birthday permanently to the 10th; I celebrated last year on the 10th, and the scavenger hunt in Hyderabad was one of the best birthdays ever. Hopefully tomorrow will live up to my wildly-inflated expectations. Goodnight!

i want a girl with lips like morphine

Plans for my birthday party are shaping up beautifully; which reminds me - if I forgot to invite you, let me know and I'll send you my new address. It's Sunday afternoon, which leaves me a few days to put the last stuff in order, go grocery shopping, and embark on a massive kick of baking, boiling, and frying in an effort to turn out all of the classic foodstuffs of my lost youth.

Actually, when I say that 'plans are shaping up beautifully', I mean 'the guestlist is shaping up beautifully'; and by 'beautifully' I mean 'into a horribly large mishmash of representatives from every era of my post-Iowa life'. That just makes it more exciting though. Will there be enough spinach artichoke dip? Will there be enough tasty beverages? Will people dance in my papasan until it falls apart? Will my college friends and my expat friends engage in a 'West Side Story'-style conflict, replete with murderous dancing and crazy antics? The answers to all of these questions will present themselves as the party unfolds on Sunday afternoon.

I still haven't finalized the menu; I'm trying to focus on things that can be prepared a bit in advance, since I hardly want to spend my birthday party cooking. For instance, I really want to make tenderloins because I *love* tenderloins and never get them here (Californians apparently no longer embrace the tenderloin, even if there is a district by that name in San Francisco). But, tenderloins require frying and are only half as good if they're cooked in advance--so if there are tenderloins, it requires me to mind a pan full of sizzling fat and pork, leading to the inevitable smell of grease permeating the house. Hmm. I could grill on the ol' George Foreman, but that's not very exciting. But, I feel that I need some meat products - perhaps pigs in a blanket? Or, ooooh, maidrites! My mother passed on the 'maidrites for a large group' recipe--I may have just struck on a winner. The other option is roast beef salad, but that would probably result in a mutiny of all hands, considering that it's ground-up roast beef, Miracle Whip, and sweet pickles. Luckily, I do have a jar of homemade sweet pickles (thanks sis!) in my fridge, so I can make all kinds of midwestern delicacies.

But, I will make corn casserole, and baked beans, and perhaps scalloped potatoes, and some kind of jello salad (Mom - if you read this, can you send me the recipe for the green jello salad with the marshmallows if you have it?), and deviled eggs, and spinach artichoke dip, and chocolate chip chewies, and a funfetti birthday cake! Since it's California I should have a salad, but no one really wants to eat salad anyway, and that hardly goes along with my birthday. Unless, of course, it's a salad made with either Miracle Whip or Jello.

Okay, I should go to bed rather than contemplate all of this--I have another seven a.m. call tomorrow. I'm really not made for this type of lifestyle; I'd much rather stay up all night and dream the day away.

the war is over, the rain is falling

Unfortunately for Princess Aiko, her aunt had a baby boy today, effectively ending all debate on whether Japan will revise its male-only succession rules to allow Princess Aiko to inherit. Honestly, being a female royal in Japan just sucks. One princess got married last year, and she had to abandon the family and her title altogether because she married a commoner, even though the crown prince was able to marry whomever he pleased. I'm not saying that I would automatically turn down the chance to be part of the Japanese royal family, but it doesn't seem like a very sound proposition to me.

I don't really want to go to bed, but I know that I should--I have a conference call at seven a.m. tomorrow, and those always drive me nuts. Sorry for being so boring tonight, but my impending old age is sapping all of my humor. Sigh. Goodnight!

six sigma heart

So, there's this song called 'Carousel', by this band called As Tall As Lions. I've heard it a few times over the past couple of days because it's been recommended to me by pandora.com (more on that in a second). Anyway, there's this repeated line that actually says 'sick sick my heart' (which, in my defense, doesn't exactly make sense). But, because I spend too much time thinking about work, I kept hearing 'six sigma heart'--six sigma is a method of quality assurance, originally used in the manufacturing industry, but recently applied to the more squishy realm of customer service, and I've done a bit of reading on it without actually understanding any of it. I'm usually pretty good at understanding song lyrics, but when I strike out, I strike out big. Luckily I looked this one up, since I knew it couldn't be 'six sigma', before it got permanently ingrained in my consciousness.

Anyway, if you haven't already, you need to check out pandora.com. I read a New York Times article about it earlier this week, and now I love it. It's part of something called the Musical Genome Project, in which some company has hired a bunch of people to listen to songs and categorize them by the type of instruments used, the key, harmonies, etc. Now that they've built up a profile of tons of songs, they can custom-build a streaming playlist for you based on a song that you put into their search box. For instance, I put in 'Dani California', the latest single from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and my customized 'radio station' plays music by Franz Ferdinand, The Killers, other Red Hot Chili Peppers songs, as well as lots of bands I've never heard of and several songs that I've really enjoyed. As you're listening, you can give a thumbs-up or thumbs-down to songs that you feel strongly about, so that it can continue to tailor its selections to your tastes. Brilliant, eh? Sure, some people may see this as yet another way for someone to get data about you--but I've already made peace with the fact that I love bad music, so if this is divulged publicly someday, I won't be upset at all.

I didn't finish putting my apartment in order; I would make progress for about fifteen minutes, and then take a half-hour break, so there weren't many noticeable changes today. However, I did recycle a whole bunch of cardboard boxes. Also, I made myself a ravishingly-delicious omelette; 'omelette' may be kind, since the pan was too small and so the egg got too thick to adequately fold, but 'ravishingly-delicious' is only inaccurate if you think that it's an understatement. Never again will I pay $10 for an omelette, unless I'm out with friends and don't want anything else on the menu. My omelette contained green peppers, onions, mushrooms, and cheese; I'd sauteed the peppers and onions before making the omelette, so they were soft and tasty rather than crunchy and overwhelming. Combined with two pieces of buttered toast, this was the best meal I'd had in a long time. Yay for cooking! It is sad, however, that I love cooking, but am sized out of most kitchens--I can only reach the bottom shelves of all my cabinets, which means that I'll probably get more use than I would have liked out of the stepstool that I bought. Oh well--now that I'm almost 25, I suppose I'll have to come to terms with the fact that I will never be described as 'leggy', unless there's some sort of nuclear holocaust and everyone elses' legs melt off except for mine. But in that case, everyone else will probably be so bitter that it would feel like a Pyrrhic victory. Hahaha.

catch a dylan song or some eclipse of the moon

I saw 'Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest' today with Zach and Oniel. Of all of the things that I could have done to celebrate seeing Zach for the first time since before I left for Ireland, this was not the most auspicious thing to pick. Frankly, the movie was disappointing, even moreso that it would have been if it were just boring.

[warning: spoilers follow, for those of you who haven't seen it--which, judging by the box office numbers, probably only includes my parents ;) if you don't want to know, skip until the 'no spoilers' section below]

The writers and producers of this movie didn't seem to understand what made the first 'Pirates' movie so successful. No one cared about the plot, or even about all the explosions--what made the movie special was the interaction between the characters, the occasional moments of surprising character development, and the chance to see all of the main characters do exceptionally crafty things or plan ahead in clever ways. This movie attempted to create a plot to span two movies, and because so much of this movie was set-up for the third movie, the three main characters (Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, and Elizabeth) went their separate ways for most of the movie--and none of them are as entertaining alone as they are with each other. There was far too much focus on how 'cool' the sea-creature special effects were, and about twenty minutes' too much usage of the Kraken. Surprisingly, I thought some of the best lines came from Commodore Norrington, who was really a one-dimensional bit part, but allowed to grow a beard for this particular outing.

But the worst was that none of the main characters developed in ways that made me love them, and two of the three of them did things that seemed uncomfortably out of character. Sparrow going valiantly to his doom with the Kraken would have seemed heroic and tragic if he hadn't spent most of the movie either absent or being an ass--for instance, it was never explained why it was necessary to send Will on a suicide mission, nor did he do anything to rectify the situation. And the whole thing with Elizabeth and Sparrow was just weird--granted, pirates are hotter than 'good guys', but in this particular movie, Will Turner seemed more clever than Sparrow, despite being held back by all his heroism and morals.

I guess the problem for me was that I felt some level of affection for the characters after the first movie, and this movie destroyed a lot of my good will towards them. I know I'm overreacting--but I would have the same reaction if they made a fourth 'Lord of the Rings' and Aragorn turned into an alcoholic. I'll still see the third one in hopes that they can redeem themselves--and I hope that the writers turn out a halfway-decent effort and aren't the same people who turned out 'Matrix: Revolutions'. And also, this wasn't as bad as many of the other movies I've dragged my friends to, so I can still be redeemed!

[end spoilers]

I spent the rest of the day doing some desultory unpacking, with a trip to Target to get a trashcan for my kitchen and some necessary hardware to hang some shelves. Tomorrow, I have more errands to run, and then I need to get rid of all of the boxes that have accumulated in my apartment--this means either recycling them here, or dumping them clandestinely on Stanford campus or at my place of employment. It's been lovely having a three-day weekend--this was my first weekend in my apartment in a month, and I desperately needed it. Now, it's time for bed--hopefully I'll wake up at a decent hour tomorrow so I can accomplish something, but don't hold your breath.

peanut butter jelly time!

My kitchen cabinets are woefully understocked, as I discovered today while I cleaned and organized them. My canned goods amount to one can of chicken noodle soup and one can of slices olives, which is somewhat short of the week's worth of non-perishable food items suggested by all the 'survive the next big earthquake' checklists that I like to read and promptly ignore. There were also ten pairs of shoes strewn about my living room, but none next to my bed where I could slip into them in the case of broken glass. Granted, since my bed is under my window, the only broken glass will already be in my bed, which is a rather horrifying thought. My refrigerator contains around forty bottles of beer and alcopops, as well as several containers of random condiments and some milk that is on the verge of expiring. I have most of a loaf of bread that I bought before I went to Seattle, but thanks to the miracles of ultra-processing, Safeway bread lasts for several months and could probably be considered one of those non-perishable food items that I should be stocking up on. It's no wonder I've been eating out to much--my 'home-cooked meals' are currently limited to Easy Mac, oatmeal, granola bars, bread with some random condiment, or a cup of tea. Ew.

So, I found myself craving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tonight, and luckily I live within walking distance of Safeway, so I ran over to get the necessary ingredients. I came back with more than I had intended--yogurt, cottage cheese, milk (yes, I'm inviting lactose intolerance, but I seem fine with all of those delectable foods), apples, salad greens, dressing, and ice cream. I'm still far from being able to whip up a pleasing meal, but it's a start; I should do more staples-stocking this weekend, if I get around to making a list. The peanut butter (crunchy) and jelly (grape, in a squeezable plastic bottle) sandwich was the best thing I've had in awhile, and the cold, non-rotten milk was heavenly. It's funny that I enjoyed this more than the Spanish omelette that I had at a cafe for my 2pm 'breakfast' (you can tell I took advantage of the opportunity to sleep in!)--but I was annoyed that I paid $10 for an omelette and a diet coke when I could have made the same thing for a fraction of the price. Or, gone back to India and had four or five lackeys make me the same thing for a fraction of the price. Either way, there are times when I'm fine paying $10 for breakfast because I live in California and everything is expensive here and I really didn't feel like cooking anyway; there are other times when $10 seems like highway robbery. Today was a highway robbery day, so maybe that will encourage me to cook more in the future.

Despite my rather late start, I managed to thoroughly clean my kitchen, do the dishes, and reorganize the refrigerator and my cabinets. I also unpacked a couple of the boxes still in the living room. However, I had made the mistake of browsing at Walgreens while waiting for some prescriptions to be filled, which led to the even bigger mistake of buying a romance novel. It was 'Match Me If You Can', Susan Elizabeth Phillips' latest effort, which has just come out in paperback. Her storylines are becoming a bit formulaic (granted, this is to be expected of romance novels)--but all of her stories are rather similar, particularly the ones in the series she has going about the fictional Chicago Stars football team. In a nutshell, a brainy, adorably-insane girl falls in love with a drop-dead gorgeous athlete with a surprisingly-large brain to match his killer instincts. Basically, it's like porn for women--while porn for men is dominated by hot chicks and average-looking guys, these novels contain absurdly-handsome men and women who sound like they might actually be real women (even though they aren't). Unlike porn for men, however, there is much more plot and much less sex. And, while Phillips' storylines are all the same, her dialogue is always snappy and amusing, so her plots can be forgiven. Of course, despite all my good intentions to put my house in order, I threw in the towel around seven, and read the book straight through (with that one break to buy peanut butter and jelly). Now, I should consider going to bed, since I do want to accomplish things tomorrow. Goodnight!

don't you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say

I ran a fool's errand today; I took a painting that I bought in South Africa to an art store for framing, and spent somewhere between 10 and 20 times the original cost of the painting on stretching and framing. The painting is 19" by 45", and framing ain't cheap, especially for an odd size that has to be custom-stretched and framed--I had an internal debate about whether it was worth framing, but I do really love it, and it will look quite striking in my living room, and it's something that I will have forever (and with me, that's no idle threat, since I tend to keep everything). So, in approximately one month, I will have a glorious red painting to grace my walls. Hopefully by then I will also have a TV and some semblance of order in my life, but who knows.

In other news, I trimmed my toenails, and all is well with the universe.

Another errand I ran today was to stop by this Japanese stationery store in Palo Alto. They had a lot of absurdly cute stuff, but I refrained; I did buy a card for someone because I couldn't resist it. I also bought these amazing little miniature disposable fountain pens; $4.95 each, and probably 3.5" long. I got one in pink and one in green, and they look deliciously tacky next to my more-sophisticated, real fountain pens. That store could drain serious funds from my bank account, and so I'm not allowed to go back there anytime in the near future--especially since I'm contemplating a trip to the Crate and Barrel outlet in the East Bay this weekend. I wonder if you can take methadone to get over an accessory addiction? Or am I destined to end up homeless, destitute, pushing my blankets and tattered clothes around in a lovely rolling entertainment cart with some pink-sorbet pillar candles to light the lonely nights?

After buying pens and getting my artwork framed, I had an impromptu dinner with Adit, and an even more impromptu dinner with Sri (who called Adit right after we ordered, and ended up coming to the restaurant and eating our leftovers). Adit told me the reason for the closure of my favorite Thai restaurant in Mountain View - the place that Walter's family went for his college graduation had a major fire on the same terrace where we enjoyed our curries, and the restaurant is closed until further notice. So, we ate at Amarin instead, where we went for the 'spicy' dishes in a successful attempt to burn out the lining of my mouth. Yay. Then, Sri and I took Adit to the airport, and I came home to wrap up some work and write this blog post.

Finally, you'll be happy to know that I don't have tuberculosis; the doctor prescribed some stuff to get my allergies under control, but was not too concerned. They should be under control just in time for me to go back to Iowa and catch the end of hay-fever season--lucky me! Now, it's time for bed.

warlocks in wonderland

I'm having trouble focusing tonight because I'm unnaturally obsessed with my toenails. They're not unattractively long, but they're longer than I like them to be, and everything is so disorganized that I can't find any clippers (even though I know I have at least three pairs), and so I'm forced to endure my toenails until I either a) clean or b) more likely, snap and buy another pair of clippers. It's the little toes that bother me--my toes are so small that the toenails are also miniscule, which means that it doesn't take very long at all for the pinky toenails to grow to the point that the grown-out part is equal in size to the still-attached-to-nailbed part, and that's when they start to drive me mad.

But enough about that. I just made an appointment for tomorrow with one of the company doctors to check out my lingering sore throat and cough; granted, this happens every summer around this time, and it will eventually go away on its own, but I'd like to speed the process up since I just feel kind of icky as a result. Hopefully I can actually be squeezed in tomorrow, or else it's probably another weekend of hacking up my lungs in a most unladylike manner.

I have nothing of interest to report, so I'm going to bed. Two more days of work, and then a three-day weekend! Yay!

there's always a siren singing you to shipwreck

I got to work for an eight a.m. conference call, only to discover that the other participant had cancelled it after I woke up (and checked my mail with the desperate hope that it had been cancelled while I slept) but before I got to the office. I hate when that happens! However, I was able to get breakfast as a result--scrambled eggs, spicy roasted potatoes, and zucchini bread did much to restore my spirits. I worked all day, except for a brief lunch hiatus with Alaska Matt, and then came home with the intention of putting my room completely in order. It didn't quite happen, but I did do some laundry and organize my closet, so progress was achieved.

In other news, I saw a catalogue for Stanford Continuing Studies in the cafe near the laundromat, and I rushed home to sign up for a fiction-writing class this fall. I wanted to take the novel class, but it was already full, so I signed up for the short-story class instead. It meets every Thursday evening, conveniently beginning right after Katie's wedding and conveniently ending right before Christmas. Hopefully this will trigger a burst of creativity on my part, and induce me to finish my romance novel; if nothing else, it will provide me with a library card so that I can take naps in Green Library again and relive the days of my lost youth.

The funny thing is that I complain that I never have time to finish my novel because I'm so busy with work--but the fact that I'm so busy with work is what has enabled me to be able to afford a slightly-overpriced $500 continuing studies class. I had wanted to take continuing studies classes when I first graduated, but my entry-level salary was just enough to cover rent, car payments, trips home, and endless stops at Pizza My Heart with Walter; continuing studies had to fall by the wayside, even though I had plenty of free time and a bona-fide 9-6 job. Now, I have the money for continuing studies, but no time, since my job is more like 7-7 and I require at least eight hours of sleep. Anyway, I'm happy that I signed up--I decided to just do it without thinking about it and psyching myself out. Now, I can use the professional opinion of a Stegner Fellow (=prestigious writing fellowship at Stanford) to discover whether I actually have any talent at putting imaginative stories on paper, or if my talents are limited to recounting the admittedly-crazy things that happen to me with near-constant frequency.

Classes don't start for a month, however, which leaves me plenty of time to slack off. I'm going to begin now by going to bed!

makin' noise for the boys in the vatican

To anonymous commenter #3 on my previous post, who suggested that I should 'get over [my]self already', I appreciate the advice. I doubt that I will ever get over myself entirely, because I'm waaaaay too analytical, and I subject myself to the same intense scrutiny that I apply to all problems, whether they are spreadsheets, relationships, or things on my always-endless to-do lists. However, I think that I have gotten over myself to some extent, or at least demonstrated some small measure of 'personal growth'. I no longer obsess over whether men can fall in love with women who are as witty as they are, or whether I will ever be 'normal', or who my friends are, or why I don't trust most people, or many of the myriad issues that I've obsessed over in the past. Frankly, I've stopped caring what most people think of me. I'm still obsessing over other things, like what to do with my life, whether my phobia towards commitment is healthy or concerning, and why I have these occasional (usually contained) impulses to chop off my hair or wreak havoc with my stable friendships or run away to other countries. Anyway, these issues aren't going to go away anytime soon, but I will attempt to get over them--and until that happens, you're just going to have to put up with me.

Anyway, I was in Seattle this weekend for Jasmine and Michael B's wedding. Question: does that mean I should start calling Jasmine 'Jasmine B.'? Answer: I don't think so, since she's not taking his name, but that would still amuse me. The trip was fantastic, although I'm exhausted and still sick. I think the illness might have actually been allergies, since the island was covered in weeds and my cold got excruciatingly worse over the weekend, to the point that I lost my voice from coughing so much. I feel much, much better today, but that could also be from the 10 hours of sleep I got last night.

But enough about my health. I got into Seattle Thursday night and promptly went to Jasmine and Michael's apartment, where I hung out with some of our mutual friends until ~one a.m. I left for Orcas Island early the next morning with two of the other bridesmaids, whom I didn't know before but whom I now like quite a bit. The trip to the island was something of an ordeal--an hour and a half drive from Seattle to the ferry, an hour and a half wait for the ferry (you have to show up early to get a spot), an hour-ish ferry ride, and then another twenty-minute drive to the hotel. We got there in time to grab a late lunch and try on the bridesmaids dresses (mine fit perfectly except for a slight adjustment to the shoulder straps), and then we rehearsed the wedding. The rehearsal dinner involved a quick and mostly-futile attempt to teach the wedding party how to dance so that we could dance at the reception; I was too rusty on the swing steps I learned at TASP to do very well, and it was clear that my rock-step could use some work [the rock-step is the third part of the standard swing pattern]. Despite my lack of coordination, Shedletsky and I pioneered the rock-paper-scissors-step; this graceful move involves doing a couple of rounds of standard rock-stepping, then breaking apart in what would normally lead to the woman being spun--but instead of spinning, each person throws rock, paper, or scissors with their free hand. You go back together and swing out three times to achieve the classic best-of-three game; the winner gets to spin the loser on the next set of steps. Great, huh?

There was a bonfire that night, which didn't help my lung issues at all, and I went to bed at midnight and slept until eleven. I spent the rest of the morning/early afternoon with Jasmine and the bridesmaids, getting our hair done and helping each other into our dresses. The wedding was around four p.m. in this grassy area overlooking the ocean; the setting was gorgeous, the ceremony was the perfect combination of casual and classy, and everything went very well. The reception and dinner were lovely and delicious respectively, the dancing went surprisingly smoothly given how few of us actually knew how to dance, and the whole day was great. After the reception ended, I went back to the house that some of my friends rented and played mafia until two a.m. I hadn't played mafia in ages, but it was fun. Of course, what wasn't fun was that I only got three hours of sleep as a result, since I had to wake up at 6:30 to go back to the house, pick up Doug, Can, Sean, and Henry, and go to the ferry for the trip home. This lack of sleep caused several disasters: 1) I left my wallet in the restroom of a truck stop (thanks to the miracle of Google Maps and the fact that I remembered that the truck stop was off the same exit as a casino, I was able to use the satellite feature to recognize the right truck stop; I called and they had the wallet, so Jasmine picked it up for me on the way back later that day, and I discovered that everything was intact!); 2) I forgot to fill up the rental car with gas before returning it, thus having to pay their extortionate $7-per-gallon refill fee, resulting in an $89 charge; and 3) I just realized that I didn't grab a skirt out of the closet of my hotel room, and it's probably gone forever. Sigh. I usually am not that scatterbrained, so yesterday was rather frustrating.

Despite the frustration, yesterday was still nice; we got back to Seattle in time to have lunch with Dan Y. and John W., who lived in Loro with us my senior year. Dan regaled us with stories of escaping terrorists in Peru, and it was great to see both of them. Then, Doug navigated us to a hill overlooking downtown Seattle with a great view of the space needle, and we whiled away some time there before I left for the airport. I liked what I saw of Seattle, so hopefully I'll get to go back someday. And, Orcas Island was gorgeous--perfect for a wedding, and I could have easily spent a couple more days there.

Now I'm back in California, and I'll be here for almost a month--yay for stability!

darjeeling puttabong

So I bought this tea awhile ago ('darjeeling puttabong', as you might have guessed from the title); it was more expensive than the looseleaf Irish Breakfast tea that I got at the same time, and yet I like it much, much less. I like my tea almost like I like my Guinness--really dark, but with cream on top to cut the bitterness. Darjeeling puttabong is more of a light, almost floral tea, even after I let it steep for ten minutes. Meh. Oh, well, it gave me an excuse to use my awesome teapot, so I can't complain too much.

After that effortless display of tea snobbery (which, ironically, showed that my tastes are still plebian rather than refined), it's time to report that I have nothing to report--I did nothing today but work, sleep, and go underwear shopping in anticipation of wearing a dress on Saturday that I have never tried on or seen. I decided I should arm myself with a strapless bra just in case, and this of course resulted in a thorough replenishment of my lingerie stocks. Not that anyone will ever see what I bought, unless I'm in a tragic car accident that results in massive head trauma but relatively little damage below the neck, or unless I start outsourcing my laundry duties. On that slightly depressing note (compounded by the fact that I turn 25 in less than three weeks!), I'm off to bed.

this is the dawning of the rest of our lives

I have nothing to say. How sad is that?

Let me attempt to dredge something up. I had dinner tonight, quite impromptu-ly, with Terry. I should have stayed home and worked; I wasn't really able to sleep last night, and so I went into the office at 7:30 (a full hour earlier than necessary), which afforded me the opportunity to eat breakfast with Subz before the ubiquitous conference call. But, that threw me into a slow decay of energy, which bottomed out around 3:30 and forced me to come home and take a nap. The nap lasted two hours, rather than the thirty minutes I had intended to take, so hopefully I'm still able to sleep tonight, but I'm not going to hold my breath. Of course, holding my breath would ensure 'sleep', or at least its cousin asphyxiation, but I'd rather wake up sans brain damage. I came home from dinner and did the two hours' worth of work that I should have done at the office, and now it's time to go to bed so that I can get up for my seven a.m. conference call tomorrow.

What did I do to deserve so many early mornings? I'm perhaps the antithesis of a morning person--there are times when I feel that I would rather stab myself in the eye than get out of bed in the morning. In an effort to ensure that I don't do that tomorrow morning, thus protecting my precious eyesight for one more day, I should probably go to sleep. Goodnight!

and if i said it a hundred times before--expect a thousand more

So I stayed home sick from work today, because I picked up a nasty cold that unfortunately is not the bubonic plague. I get so tired of just having a sore throat and a runny nose, rather than buboes. Sigh.

Staying home was a good idea in some respects; I may work 12 hours a day in normal circumstances, but my sole concession to work/life balance is not working in the office when I'm miserably ill. In other respects, it wasn't good at all, since I ended up sleeping from noon to four--it definitely made me feel better, but had no positive impact on my jetlag. Between all that sleep and all of the sweet tea I've imbibed to soothe my throat, I'm wide awake and surprisingly punchy. That feeling will probably not last through my 6:30am alarm, so I should consider going to bed. I hate going to bed, though--that's why I should be a novelist. I would thrive in my own little world, where the day would start at noon and last until I fall asleep over my keyboard, where I could periodically take naps in my gorgeously-arrayed bed or a gently-swaying hammock, where I could subsist on strawberry shortcake, oatmeal, steak, and Diet Coke (okay, perhaps 'thrive' isn't the best word). Instead, I need to get up at 6:30 so that I can make it to the office by eight for several hours of meetings and conference calls. Oh, joy. Wish me luck!

wish upon a star, but do you know what stars are?

I feel like I've been up forever--perhaps because I have been. My August 19 just ended, only 36.5 hours after it started in Hyderabad. It started v. surreally, too--Darragh, Kim and I went clubbing with the other expats before leaving for the airport. The club was called 'Ahala' (which I prefer to call 'Holla', as though it's alluding to SoCal-rap-speak), which has replaced a club that I went to in one of the Taj hotels in Hyderabad last year. Happily I only had one drink, which was key since they charge 750 rupees (~$16) for a single screwdriver. That sounds like the same extortionate prices that the government occasionally pays for screwdrivers, although the government's screwdrivers contain less Absolut and more metal.

Anyway, the ridiculous prices weren't surreal (although they should have been, given that that's more than I've paid for four-course dinner extravaganzas in India)--but it was surreal when photographers for the society pages in one of the local newspapers showed up and started snapping pics of us dancing. It quickly went from amusing to creepy as more photographers kept showing up, including a couple of videographers who seemed to be filming some sort of conservative Indian version of 'Foreign Girls Gone Wild' (conservative because we were all modestly attired, wild because they liked filming up and down from head to toe, v. slowly, in a way that didn't seem to be destined for the evening news). It will be interesting to see if these pics show up in a bona fide newspaper, or if one of my friends someday will recognize me on an illicit Indian porn site.

Being in India was great, but the trip home was brutal and I'm suffering from some crushing exhaustion. I managed to avoid falling asleep after getting back to California this afternoon, although it was a close call; I hit upon the brilliant idea of staying up by rereading one of my favorite romance novels ('Ain't She Sweet' by Susan Elizabeth Phillips), which worked like a charm since I couldn't put it down and so stayed up until almost midnight with it. Tomorrow, though, I need to get up and accomplish something with my day--my apartment is messy and I want it to transform from an ugly duckling to a beautiful swan. So, I shall take myself off to bed, and perhaps tomorrow I'll have energy to accomplish something (hahahaha, I'm so optimistic).

when you find me there you'll search no more

I can suddenly barely keep my eyes open, which is unfortunate since I have all this stuff that I want to do for work and don't have time to take care of. Alas. Anyway, today was good; I managed to sleep well last night, and then spent a whole day at the office thinking (painful!). I left around 7pm and brought Jogi back to my hotel for dinner, which was v. nice. We were later joined by Salim and Heather (and Darragh, after Jogi left), and so I had a great, relaxed, entertaining few hours in the hotel restaurant. Now, I should really go to bed--I have to be on my way to the airport in 24 hours!

It's strange the directions that life takes you; when I was growing up, I never dreamed that I would live in India (except when I was reading 'The Secret Garden' and wanted to have an ayah/nanny and parents who died of typhoid or some other crazy disease), let alone live in India long enough that I would feel jaded when I returned. While other people went shopping tonight, I had no desire to go--my house is already full of as many Indian textiles and mementos as I can keep, and my drawers are going to overflow if I don't get control of my spending habits. I've also fully (almost, rather) quelled my 'I'm gonna die' adrenaline reaction to riding in cars with the drivers here, which I think is a big accomplishment. However, I am going to die if I don't get some sleep--goodnight everyone!

exhaustion

I am beyond exhausted, and it's all my fault; since I was 'recovering' (aka hungover) yesterday, I slept until eleven, and then took a nap in the afternoon. This meant that when I went to bed a little after eleven p.m., I was only able to sleep until three a.m. At that point, I awoke and laid in bed, tossing and turning fitfully without falling asleep again. Sadness! This made me an extremely surly participant of the summit today, and a v. tired attendee at the dinner tonight.

However, dinner was delicious--it was Indian Chinese, which is like Chinese food but spicier. We went to Waterfront, which was where my going-away dinner was last fall, so that brought back bittersweet memories. Now, it's ten p.m. and there's work that I should do, but I'm too wiped out.

Two more days and I'll be getting on a plane!!

today is our independence day

If an alien spaceship showed up at the Novotel in Hyderabad, I'm curious to see if the security guards could get it to stop long enough to sweep under it for bombs. They take this duty v. seriously; I went into the hotel complex Sunday approximately five times with the same driver, and they checked under the car every single time. You would think that it would be clear that a car full of five people wouldn't be a suicide-bomber car; it's not like suicide bombers are so easy to come by that groups send several in the same car. Of course, that would help to increase the death toll from such a bomb, but it wouldn't do much for recruitment.

Anyway, today was India's independence day, and I spent it recovering from a thoroughly-Western night of drinking and general debauchery. Monday was the first day of the conference I'm here for, and by the end of it I was thoroughly exhausted--I took a ten-minute power nap between getting back to the hotel after work and leaving for dinner at Angeethi (home of the delicious murgh makhni and garlic naan about which I waxed so enthusiastically last year), but it wasn't exactly long enough to revive me. Murgh went a long ways toward ensuring my healthy, which I then promptly destroyed by coercing three other people into playing Circle of Death with me. We'd been pretty good up until that point; leisurely chatting, followed by a nice Salim-produced fireworks display. Salim loves to buy the string of 10,000 firecrackers, which lasts a long time; he also bought mortars to set off a bunch of nice aerial fireworks. But, Circle of Death was the beginning of the end. The four of us drank enough to become completely giddy and hysterical, which meant that we had tons of fun last night and all felt v. sick this morning. Salim said it would have been quicker and easier if he had just let us take turns hitting him in the head with a baseball bat, but where would the fun be in that?

So anyway, I spent the night at Regina's, then came back here with her around noon and had a nice lunch at the hotel. I didn't do anything the rest of the day, and now I'm ready for bed.

I only have three days left of this whirlwind trip--crazy! Now, it's time to see whether my jetlag will let me sleep through the night; goodnight, everyone!

one way ticket

I woke up this morning to the sound of a hotel staffmember knocking on my door at 9am. He v. thoughtfully decided to hand-deliver my newspaper; apparently, the little bag with the handles on it is meant to be carried to one's room and delivered immediately, rather than hung from the door to await one's attention. There is no placard that says 'Do Not Disturb'; there is a little light outside that is supposed to signify one's desire to be left alone, but I can't find the switch to activate it. Therefore, I am destined to be awoken every morning by a man delivering a paper that I have no intention of reading. Welcome to India, indeed!

Anyway, despite that inauspicious opening, today was brilliant. I went to brunch at the Taj Krishna, which is one of my traditional haunts of old; most of the expats still go there every Sunday, and so I had my usual croissant with salmon, followed by a barbecued chicken pizza, followed by an order of fries that never ever comes, followed by a cup of black tea. Mmm. I had a fabulous time seeing Roy, Leigh Anne, John, Holly, Heather, Salim, Regina, Brian, and the other expats who have arrived more recently. Then, those of us who are here for the week went to Charminar to buy bangles--which is one Indian commodity that I don't need any more of, given the boxes upon boxes of bangles currently inhabiting my living room. I limited myself to one set of four, and focused the rest of my energies on attempting to cross the street without being run over by autorickshaws, cars, buses, motorbikes, regular bikes (always seemingly consisting of more rust than metal), or even a donkey-drawn cart. The area around Charminar is considered the old city, and it is a madness-inducing swirl of people, vehicles, dirt, animals, amazing Technicolor saris, bangles, turbans, and other fantastic products. There are people *everywhere*, mostly staring at the unexpected white people in their midst, unless they are actively trying to run over said white people. Actually, no one seems desirous of running people over; instead, they just don't care if people are crossing the street. This makes navigating the Charminar area v. difficult. The Charminar itself is a Muslim monument in the center of a roundabout, while the only parking area is off one side of the roundabout and the bangle street is off the oppposite side. Therefore, to get to the bangles, one has to navigate the unintelligble traffic patterns of an Indian roundabout, with the disadvantage of not having any wheels or horns. I highly recommend it, and it probably explains why I ended up with so many bangles--the adrenaline rush from surviving the street crossing leads to a lust for life that bangles are strangely suited for.

Anyway, afterwards Darragh and I split off from the group and went to this lovely handicrafts place, where we each bought gorgeous rugs (yay for consumerism). We came back to the hotel, worked on the presentation that we're giving tomorrow, and then I went over to Salim and Heather's. We ended up going out for dinner at this place called Little Italy, which opened after I left; it serves Italian and Mexican food, which I found to be an odd combination. The Italian food was excellent, and I love Heather and Salim, so I had a great night.

Now, I'm going to go to bed--surprisingly, I'm doing really well with the jet lag, considering I made it through the entire day without taking a nap or relaxing much at all. Hopefully it doesn't hit me tomorrow, but only time will tell. Goodnight!

dehydrated

I have arrived in India, and I have checked into a hotel that is so new that they apparently haven't turned the water on to my wing yet. So, even though it's 3:25am Sunday here, and I've been travelling for an unknown amount of time (actually, it is known, but I'm too tired to figure it out), I can't go to bed yet because the maintenance guys are coming back. Predictably, the maintenance guys consist of one guy who turns the tap on, and another guy who carries a walkie-talkie and supervises. I've really missed India!

Among other amusing things, I'm watching the news (on a nice flatscreen tv), and the Indian version of CNN was showing footage of security guards checking luggage at the airport. The best piece of footage involved four men standing around while one guard picked up a small duffel and tossed it five feet. I couldn't tell what they were checking for--if they were checking for bombs, they would have been blown up, and if they were checking for drugs, they wouldn't have found them without opening the bag. Perhaps they were stress-testing the seams on the bag? In any respect, I feel much safer than I have in ages.

The flight was uneventful, although I stink something terrible since I wasn't able to bring deoderant, toothpaste, perfume, etc. I was, however, able to bring Ambien, and we all bought these amazing neck pillows in the airport. I always scoffed at people who lugged around neck pillows before, since I thought they were for chumps--but, after the blissful sleep that I had on my SF-Frankfurt flight (aided by an Ambien, a face mask, and my noise-cancelling headphones), I'm fully converted to chumpdom.

My sleep on the airplane didn't start as early as I would have liked, since Lauren did my Q2 review on the plane--I'd been joking that it would happen all week, since it was due to happen on Thursday and we were both v. busy in the lead-up to our trip. But, the joking apparently put the idea in her head, and as usually happens with me, joking turned into destiny. So, after the fasten-seatbelt sign turned off, Lauren came back to my row (where I luckily had an extra seat beside me), and we spent an hour talking about my performance at work. It was actually quite productive--we had a good chat, and flight attendants periodically brought us drinks and refreshingly-moist washcloths. I think that my company should introduce the moist-towelette tradition in all reviews, as it was lovely! Happily, my review was great, since it would have been rather awkward to be stuck on a plane with my manager for 24 hours if the review had been difficult.

Okay, the water is now on, which means I can shower and go to bed. Goodnight everyone!

welcome to the grand illusion

Contrary to popular belief, spinach-artichoke dip is not improved after sitting in soapy water for five days. Actually, I'm not sure if anyone ever held that belief. But, since I haven't been cooking and have barely been home the last few days, I forgot that I had left a pan and a casserole dish soaking in the sink, and the soaking had long since gone beyond 'helpful' and into 'disgusting'. So, I cleaned up the remnants of the spinach-artichoke dip tonight; a year ago, I would have just left it, so I think I'm growing up. Actually, a year ago, I would have left it and the servants would have taken care of it, but in some strange way I still feel that I've made progress.

I'm leaving for India tomorrow, right on the heels of some drastic changes to aviation security rules. I think that I'm a harbinger of terrorist activity; I was born on September 11, and most of my major trips since then have been within days of terrorist activity--I booked my London trip last year only days before the tube bombings, I left Hyderabad less than a week after a terrorist threat kept us grounded in our apartments, I made it to Sri Lanka just months before the Tamil Tigers and the government restarted hostilities in their decades-long civil war, and I left Dublin a day late because a bomb scare grounded all flights. Kim went so far as to say that when I'm travelling, the Homeland Security threat level should automatically go up to 'severe'. However, I'm not concerned--so far nothing has happened to me, and that's all that matters!

I'm pretty much packed up, and in some ways the whole ban on liquids is a good thing, since it cuts out several pounds of carry-on luggage. In other ways, it totally sucks; I'm not looking forward to a 24-hour trip without toothpaste, deoderant, contact lens solution, or lipgloss. There are gonna be some pretty nasty people on arrival in Hyderabad--and this time, I'll know to use the airplane bathroom right before we land, since an airplane bathroom at the end of a ten-hour flight is still preferable to the holes in the ground (with carefully-placed blocks for one's feet) in the restrooms at the Hyderabad airport. This is particularly true since I won't have access to hand sanitizer or soap until I retrive my checked luggage. Ah, the joys of travel.

Last night, I hung out with Claude, and she v. kindly accompanied me on my quest to find a bridesmaid's dress for Katie's wedding. Not that it was much of a quest, since I'm not a Bridezilla (or Bridesmaidzilla, if those things exist); I tried on four or five dresses, liked two, tried to order one and was told that it would take eight weeks, and so ordered the other one. The second one fit perfectly, except for the requisite shortening required by my pint-sized frame, and I'm quite excited. You can see it here. Katie picked pink, for which I will adore her forever, more than I already adore her, which is quite a bit. And, I look v. fetching in the gown, which means that I have a chance of stealing her away from her fiance at the altar, which would cause the scandal of the decade back home and guarantee me a partner in crime for future road trips across the US. Then again, I don't want to have to pay for law school, so I may have to let her stay with James until she's done with her student loans, at which point I can swoop in. Great plan, eh?

Okay, I should probably go to bed so that I can get up v. early, finish packing, and work for a couple of hours before going to the airport. The next time I write, I should be in Hyderabad! Yay!!

[And also, congrats to my nephew Zane, who got two blue ribbons at the Iowa State Fair! Don't you all wish that *you* could go to the State Fair??]

all i really learned from love is how to shoot somebody who outdrew you

I probably shouldn't even be attempting to blog, since I'm rather tired, but if I don't blog, my fans start getting antsy. And by 'fans' I mean 'my parents'.

I went to bed late last night and had to get up early, which resulted in me not showering before work. I also didn't put in my contacts. Nor did I fully wake up for several hours, which was frustrating. So, when I left the office around noon to fill a prescription for malaria pills, antibiotics, and Ambien (a delightful combination!), I was excited to find that I would have to wait for it to be filled, and so I ran home (only two blocks away from the pharmacy) and took a half-hour nap. It was fantastic, and completely saved me for the rest of the day.

I left work around six, went to the mall, and procured some necessities. Not that expensive mascara and moisturizer are really necessities, but I like to pretend that they are so that I feel less guilt over my ultra-bourgeois lifestyle. Then, I came home and crossed off a surprising number of rather unpleasant (and therefore avoided) tasks on my to-do list. Now, it's time for bed--and I leave for Hyderabad in three days! I got my passport and visa back today, so unlike my Dublin experience, it appears that I won't get deported. Yippee skippee.

taste the saline running down your cheekbone

I really just like the line in the title of this post; it's so melodramatic. As you probably know, I'm all for melodrama! This means that I've thoroughly enjoyed listening repeatedly to the song that my father recommended to me - 'The Riddle' by Five for Fighting. You would think that a band called 'Five for Fighting' would be a little more hard-rock, but the singer is extremely fond of singing in falsetto. I love falsetto almost as much as I love melodrama (funny how they go together), so I'm enjoying this song quite a bit. The title of my post isn't from that song, though; I just threw that in to confuse everybody, including myself.

Okay, that was a rather meandering opener to this blog post--apologies!

Today was fine, although I need to break my stupid habit of not doing anything at work and then working from 8pm to midnight to make up for it. I feel like I'm allowed to relax just a little bit given the amount that I worked over the past few months, but I don't really have time to relax a lot--but if I didn't relax at work, I could get my stuff done and come home at a relatively normal hour. But, it's difficult for me to stop being stupid, so perhaps I'll continue this idiotic trend until I go to Hyderabad. Since that's less than four days from now, my prophetic vision of time-wasting seems destined to come true.

I have nothing of any importance at all to share tonight, so I'm going to go to bed. I will, however, leave you with this: picture of Johnny Weir. I'm so jealous of this guy; the color commentary on him didn't come right out and say that he was gay, probably to avoid losing the viewership of the small percentage of Americans who a) didn't catch on to his lifestyle after watching him parade around in furs and designer jeans, and b) wouldn't want to watch him skate if they did catch on. Not that male figure skating seems to be a popular sport for the heteros, but Johnny Weir's color commentary was awesome--it was all about his designer jeans and handbags, how much he spends at Gucci, and his hundreds of pairs of designer sunglasses. I don't know where he gets his money, but he has fabulous taste, even if he's too inconsistent to medal.

Only three and a half more years until the next winter olympics! After realising that, it's time to cry myself to sleep; goodnight everyone!

just waiting for the daylight to come crawling in on me

I was not nearly as productive as I should have been today. I didn't get out of bed until noon, which was awesome. Then, I tried to clean my room, but got hungry, so I went out for lunch instead. Despite the fact that I had people over yesterday, I didn't really have any food in my refrigerator; the only thing in there is a lot of beer, which is sad because a) I bought too much and then had more brought to me, and b) I don't drink alone, so I'm destined to have a lot of beer sitting around for awhile. So I went out for a burrito instead, and also got my car washed. Then, I came home, took another stab at organizing my closet, failed, talked to my parents for awhile, tried with my closet again, failed again, and then leapt at Claudia's offer to 'study' at a cafe. However, the cafe we chose was a lovely place that was not meant for studying; we realized almost immediately that it was more of a fancy-eating-place than a dirty-studying-place, but we stayed anyway and were rewarded with two awesome desserts and a delicious cappuccino. Claude came back to my apartment with me and was going to study here, but we just ended up talking for a couple of hours, before I finally kicked her out so that I would have the energy necessary to unearth my bed from the detritus accumulated from my efforts in the closet.

I really love my bedroom; if I keep the door closed, it stays almost perfectly dark in here until well after noon. My windows face the west, and there's an overhang on my patio that prevents all but the late-afternoon sun from reaching the bedroom. This would sound like a complete disaster, but as I believe I mentioned before, there are skylights in the bathroom and kitchen, and so those rooms can be bathed in light while the bedroom is still encased in sleep-sustaining darkness. Despite my utter laziness today, I'm really excited about getting the place organized and decorated--I'm already half in love with this place, and I'm sure that once it's prettied up, I'll be delirious with happiness. Now, though, it's far from perfect, which makes me sad, and so it's time to go to bed before I flip out and spend all night reorganizing things. Goodnight!

my fast likes the windows down (down, down!)

I was reminded tonight of how fantastic those Volkswagen fast commercials were, and for a few blissful moments I was carried back to the 2006 Winter Olympics, watched in the comfort of my gorgeous corporate apartment with a key cadre of individuals (namely Tammy and Claudia, with a few guest appearances by Oniel). Ah, the memories.

Today was great, albeit a bit stressful at first; I had people over for a barbecue since Emily is visiting this week, but I woke up late and took too long to get ready, and so I only had a couple of hours before people arrived to buy groceries, make food, and put my apartment in some vague semblance of order. My family will be happy to know that I've gotten much faster at turning out foodstuffs than I was during that marathon potato-salad endeavor (which took me about five hours longer than it should of because I was such a slow and meticulous chopper). I threw together a batch of chocolate chip chewies, made a Greek salad (which I knew didn't look right, and I didn't realise until ten hours later that I had forgotten to add feta cheese), cooked up some delicious spinach artichoke dip, washed dishes, and gave an abbreviated scrub-down to my bathroom before my guests arrived. All that was left after they showed up was to cook sausages and steaks on my absurdly-small George Foreman grill.

In some ways, I was rather unlucky today; case in point, I was in danger of dropping the (closed, plastic) ketchup bottle, and saved it by sacrificing the (open, glass) relish jar, which then shattered on the kitchen floor, spreading glass and relish everywhere. There was glass between two of my toes, and so I just stood still while my friends found my broom and cleaned up around me. Nice of them, eh? I had visions of them leaving me trapped and then pillaging my apartment Viking-style, but they refrained from the burning and stealing tendencies that are so ingrained into the human psyche. Since this was the second time in two days that I've dropped something that shattered, I think I need to start being a bit more careful with dishes of food.

In other ways, though, I was completely lucky; my friends put together my patio table, which would have been extremely difficult for me to do by myself. This allowed us to sit outside and enjoy the late-afternoon sunshine, and all in all it was quite lovely. The barbecue crowd was rather small, since many of our friends were out of town, but I saw Garry for the first time in a couple of years, which was great. Shedletsky also came over, which I thoroughly enjoyed. The arrival of Claudia, Victor, Laura, and later Oniel ensured that we would spend a significant amount of time reminiscing about the past, but that's always nice because our collective past is rather amusing. And, of course, it was wonderful to see Emily--it's been over eighteen months since the last time I saw her, which seems impossible, so hopefully I'll see her more in the v. near future.

The immediate future, however, contains my bed and my pillow and no alarm clock. When I do get around to waking up tomorrow, I'd like to organise my closet, clean up my kitchen (including a thorough mopping of the area contaminated by the relish before it begins to reek), and perhaps meet up with Claude for some coffee if she's available. Then, it's just four days in the office next week, and I leave for India on Friday! I can't freaking wait.

i heard my mama cry--i heard her pray the night chicago died

Dad - you thought having Red Hot Chili Peppers stuck in your head was bad! How about a little Paper Lace?

In completely unrelated news, today was just a so-so day. I was barely able to drag myself out of bed, and so decided to make myself feel better by wearing one of my Indian outfits--the one with the long red tunic covered with rows of rainbow sequins, and the yellow scarf with the beads on both ends. Anyway, I was walking to my car, carrying my laptop bag, my purse, the dish with the yellow cake, and the plate with the blueberry cake, when I realised that my scarf was dragging on the ground. While I was fussing with the scarf, I forgot that the blueberry cake was just resting on top of the other container, and so I didn't balance it properly, which resulted in the plate shattering on the sidewalk, destroying the cake in the process. Actually, the cake looked really damn good, and I thought briefly of trying to salvage it (you know they say that women are more likely than men to eat food that they've dropped on the ground--probably a survival instinct from back when it took us all freaking day to make some boring meal), but decided against a rescue operation when I noticed that the cake was covered in ceramic shards. Dirt is one thing, but I don't know how I would explain to a paramedic that I had sliced up my esophagus by eating cake off the ground.

So, I threw away half of the best cake that I had made in months, and went to work in a thoroughly surly mood. Work was okay, but definitely not exciting. I came home and tried to clean, but failed miserably; so I went to Target in an attempt to get underbed storage containers, but they didn't have any. The day finally, finally took an upswing when Claude fortuitously called me around nine p.m. I was on my way back from Target and about to stop for dinner, and she was just leaving her lab, so we decided to meet at CPK. I enjoyed my traditional roasted garlic chicken pizza, and then Claude came back to my place for a pot of tea. She left about twenty minutes ago, and I should probably go to bed because I have a ton of stuff to do tomorrow before my barbecue guests arrive. I also need to figure out how I'm going to barbecue, since I haven't had time to get a grill; hopefully people won't mind a little George Foreman fat-reducin' action.

My bedroom is taking shape even if my living room is a mess; I reoriented my bed for the third time in six days, and have apparently gotten more adept at it since I didn't end up with any new bruises. The major problem now is the living room; I can't figure out where I will put a TV (particularly a nice, large TV) if I still have my couch and loveseat in the room as well. I could put the loveseat in my bedroom and forsake a dresser, but that seems silly. If you had told me ten years ago that I would ever be paying $1300 a month for a one-bedroom apartment that I didn't even own, I would have told you that you were a fool. Alas, times change, and I was stupid enough to move to one of the most expensive areas in the world. Oh, well; the sadness that I feel at spending so much money on housing is ameliorated by all of the delicious Mexican food and sushi that I consume on an almost-daily basis. Granted, sushi isn't exactly cheap, but it also isn't exactly a tator-tot casserole, so it does have its benefits.

More blogging won't do me any good tonight, though, since sleep is the most important thing currently on my agenda. Goodnight, everyone!

the love i made is the shape of my space

I have to go to bed, since it's one a.m. and I got up a little before seven this morning. I should have gotten up even earlier, but I just couldn't do it, so I took my seven a.m. conference call on my couch in my pajamas. Awesome, huh? Then I went to work, worked, came home and threw a cake together, went back to work for a meeting, came home around 6:15, and had Vidya, Claudia, and Roopa over for a tea party. There was minimal tea and maximal food; I shouldn't have made two cakes (blueberry cream cheese coffee cake and lemon cake) for four people, but I plan to take the leftovers to the office in a shameless attempt to buy friendship, so it's all good. I also made a lot of devilled eggs, and Claudia made delicious cucumber sandwiches and salmon/avocado sandwiches, so all of that food made all of us rather uncomfortable by the end of the night. Also, three of us managed to spill boiling tea on ourselves at some point; I was lucky because, even though I spilt the worst (to the point where I feared that I would end up like my brother did that one time when he spilled the boiling coffee and burned off half his chest), I was able to run into my bedroom and strip off the burning clothes in exchange for some pajamas. I was actually alright, although Claude seemed rather amused when I mentioned five minutes later that my stomach was still warm from the tea, but warm on the outside rather than the inside. Judging by the silence that I'm guessing you read that sentence with, you probably had to be here for that to be funny.

Anyway, it was a great night, but unfortunately I had stuff that I had to get done for Dublin before they got into the office, so I worked from around 11pm until now. Now it's time to go to bed!

we're all dumb and jaded

I went to Taco Bell tonight, where I proceeded to order my two standard baja chicken chalupas. I also ordered a 'small diet coke', which was silly because Taco Bell is one of the primary purveyors of Pepsi products. However, I have never been met with such an unequivocally negative response to such a request before. Most food service workers will automatically say, 'Diet Pepsi?' or 'is Diet Pepsi okay?' This dude, however, just flat-out said, 'We don't serve Diet Coke'. No offer for a different beverage, no indication that they serve Pepsi product, no nothing. I was shocked. Luckily they actually gave me chicken chalupas; the last time I went to that particular Taco Bell, they gave me beef ones instead, which just weren't the same. I think that Taco Bell only has serious appeal when you're there with several of your most insane friends; the rest of the time, it's just kind of dingy and depressing. Despite all that, though, I keep going back--I think they put MSG in the baja sauce or something.

Today, I had a conference call at eight a.m. (which is better than seven a.m., which is when my day starts tomorrow, so I should *really* go to bed). But, I came home around noon to wait for the Comcast guy, and didn't go back. I got here just in time; there were delivery guys waiting for me outside with my new patio furniture, and they'd been there for twenty minutes. I was stunned. I had requested Tuesday as the delivery date, but the woman at Crate and Barrel had said that the shipper would contact me about the move time. I never got a phone call, so it was lucky that I showed up when they were here. Yay! Now I have patio furniture, which I need to set up. I also reoriented my bed again, and the new scrape is higher up on my arm, where it luckily doesn't look like a track mark or like an abusive boyfriend grabbed my wrist. I tried putting together my stupid Ikea desk, but I'm missing some screws and the desk itself sucks, so I'm debating getting a new one, but I have so many other furniture (and television) purchases that I'd like to make, so perhaps I should wait. I also need to buy plane tickets to two weddings. I had a nice long chat with Katie this afternoon; this was the first day we'd talked on the phone in at least four months, and she happened to pick the day where I wasn't sitting in the office, so we were able to do some proper catching-up. I also unpacked several more boxes and washed a load of dishes, and then worked tonight for a couple of hours, so all in all I had a v. good day.

Tomorrow, however, there are no guarantees; it will start too early, will most likely last too late, and I need to come home and clean up some more because I'm having a tea party for two (well, three, if you count me, which you should, because I'm making the dessert) on Thursday and need to have a place for my lovely lady friends to sit. Take care, everyone!

P.S. Alan, I have always loved that poem! Excellent choice :)