Predictions, Postulations and Other Bits of Random

I haven't done a journal entry in forever and things have been pretty wonky lately. Lots of ups and downs and sideways.

I have been battling with my health, my weight and a (mostly) mild case of depression. The last part is not an easy thing for me to admit to. In hind sight, I should have recognized it much sooner, but that is also the nature of the beast is it not? All three, of course, play into each other, so its hard to get a handle on one without grabbing all three by the horns.

The last year has been hard health wise. First it was neuropathy, then it was vertigo and stomach cramps with a healthy dose of vomit for good measure. After that it was a strained back. We will not discuss the number of sinus/chest/mucus filled illnesses that I have hosted in my body in the last eight months. Just to make matters more eventful I realized that in the last five months I have put on an average of ten pounds a month. Oh yes, that means I have gained FIFTY pounds without any significant change to diet or exercise. Clearly it was time to see a doctor. Unfortunately, Western medicine had nothing for me. Two months of being bled and peeing in a cup and no one had any answers or even mild hypothesis. This was very frustrating.

Thankfully, just when I was about to give up, a friend recommended a lovely woman by the name of Stephanie, who combines Eastern and Western medicine. Why the hell not. At this point, I don't care what it is so long as it works. I was expecting some sort of crystal hippie, chakra realignment with some ground up tiger bits that I would need to boil in water and shotgun. What I got was a very smart lady who not only has her degree in psychology, has been a yoga instructor and a reiki healer for 23 years but is also doing some serious research in bio-physics and quantum physics. I totally hit the jackpot. A week of following her instruction, which was primarily breathing exercises and diet change, and the vertigo was gone. Evidently, I had been slowly hyperventilating myself to death. The average, normal, non-stress monkey person takes between eight to ten breaths per minute. I was taking twenty six to thirty. Go me.

So, now I see Steph once a week and she does a combo of breathing exercises and yoga and tai chi and massage and therapy. I've also changed my diet drastically. As little sugar as possible (this includes foods with sugar in them...like half of what you would buy at Safeway), as little processed foods as possible. LOTS of veggies and legumes. Also, I have increased my exercise. I aim for two hours of honest to goodness aerobic exercise a day. I succeed 80% of the time. I'm still a slacker when it comes to strength exercises. Baby steps. I'm two weeks in and I have no idea what the weight is doing because I don't own a scale. I'm thinking of changing that.

I'm hoping that soon, I will have my old body back and with it will come my confidence. Unfortunately, when I look in the mirror I don't look like myself and I don't like what I see. My confidence and self esteem are shot and going out into public is one of my least favorite things to do ever. This may also have something to do with the fact that I can't afford to buy yet another wardrobe for my current size. A wardrobe a month is just down right expensive. Thankfully, my roommate is letting me borrow some of her stuff (thank you Sarah!) so I have more than just yoga pants. I think I've turned the corner, but I am definitely not out of the woods. Baby steps.

My pets are usually terrible little animals, but sometimes they make up for it with wonderful moments of cute. I just had one of those moments.

I am sitting up in bed, madly entering information into QuickBooks when I hear a soft little snuffle and a faint snoring. It is coming from directly beneath my ass. I peer over the edge of my bed and there is my cat Charlie. He has decided that if he cannot be on top of me due to my laptop, he will be under me. He is curled up with one of his toys and has even dragged a little bit of blankie underneath my bed. I reached down to give him a scritch and my movement woke up my pup who was sleeping under the covers down by my knees. He then hopped down and crawled under the bed with the cat. The two of them are down there snuggling and making soft little sleepy noises occasionally punctuated with a purr or happy snort when I give them pets.

I love my kids.

God help me, work is trying to kick my ass. This week is actually ten thousand times better than last week. Last week several of my employees decided to behave VERY VERY BADLY. As the resident HR/Operations person, finding out that people had done the following was very disturbing:

1. Used their company credit card to purchase cigarettes and then threw away the receipt while saying "oops, I must have lost it"...in front of their subordinate.

2. Left their brand new $2K MacBook Pro sitting in a canvas bag in the middle of the Exhibition Hall floor at a national conference and walked away from it (Thankfully it didn't get stolen, but someone did bring it to our booth).

3. Made sexual comments about the opposite sex to a subordinate while on a business trip and when the subordinate told said person that their comments made her uncomfortable responded with "Well, you better get used to it, because it ain't gonna stop".

4. Left their $2K limit credit card on the scanner at work for a week (this same person gave me attitude for removing it from the scanner because they "couldn't find it and couldn't understand why someone would move it").

5. Rented a car under their name and then handed the keys to another employee while the one that signed the rental agreement drove in a different car to a different city.

Most of these issues have been resolved, but it means that I have been living up to my catch phrase. As one of my employees so aptly put it once upon a time...they pay me to be mean.

Now, I have most of that under control or well on its way to being under control, so now I can deal with the fires of this week. Audit, Event Coordination for a conference of 250 and re-entering the entirety of our QuickBooks files for Mac from the last three months into QuickBooks for Windows. Yes, usually I could just convert QB Mac to a QB XP file and import it, but our Mac file is corrupt and therefore won’t convert. I am the data entry QUEEN! Where are my minions when I need them?

I just did my taxes. For 2004 & 2005. After a bizarre and unfortunate set of events which led to: 1) my taxes not being done when they were supposed to be; 2) my QuickBooks file containing all pertinent information being completely corrupted and unusable; and 3) almost all of my hard copy data from my company being destroyed by the weather, I have FINALLY completed and submitted my taxes for 2004 and 2005. I'm afraid I was struck immobile for two years by the TERRIBLE FEAR of how much money I was going to owe Uncle Sam. I finally decided that it was simply time to bite the bullet and figure it out so I could start making payments. It turns out that I don't owe Uncle Sam a damn thing. In fact, he owes ME. Woot Woot!!! He actually owes me more than I'm billing him for because the only deductions I can show for my business with any form of paper trail are the 1099's that I sent out to my contractors, but I'm going to just be happy that I have those and therefore I owe NOTHING! NOTHING!!!

This calls for a happy butt wiggle.

I went on a date this evening. We actually had a lovely time. He was witty and strangely open. He doesn't fling poo. He says he's not that kind of monkey. We had a couple of conversation topics that I would not have guessed would come up until date two or four. None of them were bad, I was surprised and pleased by his candor. The whole thing actually sort of reminded me of another date I had about four years ago. Once again, I almost decided not to go last minute, bucked up because we were going to one of my favorite restaurants and I figured I would at least get to eat a delicious dinner and realized upon arrival that "Well shit. This isn't going to suck". Three hours of comfortable conversation, a delicious sushi dinner and seventeen billion cups of tea later, turns out I was right. We decided we're going to do it again next week.

Match.com guy wrote yet another non-sucky email. Witty, complimentary, slightly sarcastic and included an invitation to coffee and/or tea. I think I'll take him up on it. Yay for being brave!

Yep, I've got it again. I think it is almost time to find a roommate who does not work with a roomful of 8 year olds (they're cute little buggers, but they are PLAGUE CARRIERS) or I should encase myself in a bubble. I've tried vitamins and lysol but its just not cutting it. Thankfully, my boss is awesome and even though I have an office of my own that we could lock me in to wallow in my own snot, he is actually making me stay home and get better. Did I mention that I have the BEST BOSS EVER? Because I do.

In other news, due to my inability to leave my bed except for food and bathroom breaks, I felt the need to find a new web comic. I came up with Questionable Content (www.questionablecontent.net). If you like witty, sarcastic banter, the mocking of subcultures, obscure indie band references and hot sassy women of every size, then this web comic is for you. And by you, I especially mean Jayme. Tyler I know you will read this post. Make her do it. She will laugh and laugh and laugh. I will also now refer to her as spookypants.

What else has been going on. Oh yes. Boy update. I spoke to Tahoe boy on the phone last week. He emailed me his number and we had a genuinely pleasant chat on the phone for about half an hour. He was upfront and told me he had called several of his other lady friends and explained that he wasn't really in the right mood for romancing right now. He also told me I could call him if I wanted to because he wasn't ready to be a monk, but he couldn't guarantee what his response would be. I appreciate his honesty, but I don't think I want to get involved. He also started developing feelings for one girl that he was seeing, but she shot him down because...well...because he was developing feelings for her. Seems kind of shitty that. Anyway, long story short, his head is super messy. I wouldn't mind being friends right now, but he's got a dead friend, a bruised ego not to mention that he has his fingers in about six different pies and he's not even sure if he's hungry. Nothing wrong with that, but not my style either. Now, while all of this has been going on, I got an email from a guy off of match.com. It didn't suck, so I responded. His response to my response didn't suck either. We've been exchanging witty emails for about two weeks now. Turns out he's funny and twisted. I might consider a cup of coffee should he ever get around to asking. If not, I get a bi-weekly amusing email for free. Yay me!

Oh yes! I almost forgot. I saw K this weekend. He showed up at the 1st Weekend of March Party. We drank, we danced, we flirted. He smooched me. I ended up taking him back to Zac's house because he was too drunk to operate a motor vehicle. I put him to bed. I shot him down. Twice. And then was forced to threaten his manhood. And then there was blessed blessed sleep. He tried to tickle me awake the next morning. This would have been more amusing except that:

a) I was mildly hung over
b) I had slipped in a spilled drink the night before and landed HARD on my toosh (ouch!)
c) Ariel fell right after I did and kicked me VERY SOLIDLY in the ribs on my right hand side (ouch again!)
d) K's version of tickling involves jabbing his fingers in between aforementioned kicked ribs and vibrating his fingertips at sonic speeds while simultaneously digging for my internal organs.

I can't believe I used to find this shit cute. Let's just say hindsight is 20/20 and leave it at that.

The rest of the weekend was awesome. I got to hang out with Zac and Shawn. I spent some quality girl time with Ariel, had a lovely 3 am chat with Ryan and went to a celebration tea for Bronwyn, which let me see all of my SLO girls at once. Yay! Oooh and I got a sassy new summer jacket. Its a little white cap sleeve coat with very flattering pin tucks and it goes purrrfectly with my new ballet flats. Speaking of shoes, I wore my diabolical LBD to the party and a faboo new pair of (gasp!) high heels! This may not seem exciting to some, but I'm a shoe whore who loves a good stiletto, and I haven't been able to wear high heels for about six months now due to silly neuropathy infested feet. However, my moment of triumph has arrived! I wore the shoes for at least four hours and I didn't kill myself, crack my foot off at the ankle or have to do that terrible duck waddle/goose step combo to stay upright. Yay! My feet are finally getting better!

I have also devised a new plan of action in the exercise department. I am lousy at going to the gym and I'm not quite confident enough in my new found feet to try them at a dance class yet, so I am going to be walking to the BART station to get to work from now on. The cost of BART ticket to gas in car ratio is about equal, but the 1.6 mile walk each way means I get a lot more bang for my buck. I already did the walk once (then the sick pounced on me) and it was pleasant but still enough to get my blood pumping if I don't lolligag. I want to try this out for a month and monitor my weight/waist size and see if it makes a difference.

I think that's it for now. With any luck sleep will soon claim me. That or my cat will claim my belly and force me to be still. Hrm.

Insomnia sucks my left butt cheek. No. Not in the good way.

Sexy Little Black Dress. Check.
Sassy Stiletto Heels with Ankle Strap. Check.
"Come Fuck Me" Red Nail Polish. Check.

Yep. Ready for the weekend.

I don't know if I'm getting back in the saddle or just being an idiot. Its such a fine line between bravery and stupidity and I'm notorious for being the latter in regards to the opposite sex.

I didn't mention it earlier, but I met someone on my little trip to Tahoe. We had fun, I assumed it was just a weekend fling, but was open to seeing him again. His world exploded the night before we were supposed to leave for home. He found out a friend had committed suicide. Completely understanding that life had just gotten very messy I suggested we grab coffee sometime when things had calmed down. He seemed a bit distant (gee, I wonder why), but agreed and said he'd get in touch when life had evened out a bit. I figured that I probably wouldn't hear from him. He surprised me with an email last week apologizing for being weird at the end of the previous weekend and letting me know that things were still crappy but he'd drop me a line the following week. Totally understandable. I responded and let him know that there was no rush, but I was glad to hear from him. Turns out he has a date on Monday. Its not with me. I'm not crushed. Mildly disappointed. I understand you can date more than one person at a time, but I don't usually have the energy to play the competition game. Perhaps I'm lazy, but the effort required to stay in the running when the person you are seeing is seeing more than one seems like more effort than I want to expend. And yet, somehow, I have issued my own dinner invitation. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. I'm not sure what would be worse, him telling me to politely fuck off or us actually going to dinner. God I've gotten jaded.

This weekend I am heading down to SLO for a bridal shower and the First Weekend of March Party. The party dress code this year is semi-formal to formal and the guest list includes people that I feel the need to look particularly well put together in front of. I need a dress. This is particularly the case because none of my currently owned super fabulous dresses fit me right now. This is an issue for another day, but I doubt that I will be able to shed twenty pounds in two days without killing myself, so dress shopping it is. I've spent the last several months being very frugal so this premeditated shopping expedition seems terribly decadent because I'm not in it to get any old dress. Oh no. I need my own version on the holy grail of dresses. Geh.

Dear Universe,

THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

This weekend was AMAZING in so many ways I can hardly count them all. Once upon a time a wonderful friend of mine took me down to fairyland (tm) and introduced me to a group of people that immediately felt like family. That was four years ago and since then (as with most families) people have changed, moved away (me included) and some relationships have grown distant. I have felt all of that immensely and while I accepted that this is how the world works, there was a part of me that felt that I would never experience that sense of group acceptance again.

Then came this weekend.

I am not saying that I connected with each and every person present. I am not saying that these people will be my bestest bestest friends for the rest of my life, nor am I implying that I believe that we should all move into the same neighborhood, get into pairs and have kids at the same time so our kids can be bestest bestest friends forever either. What I am saying is that I found another group that had that "something". The energy of positive acceptance. The "it" that I can only describe as finding my tribe. Finding another bit of possible family.

I have spent the last six months in hiding. Erecting walls and putting defenses in position to protect myself. I left a negative situation where I had started to feel ostracized. My first experience in my new home was one of ridicule and rejection. I closed up and built walls. This weekend my defenses were taken down. Not harshly or with vehemence, but subtlety and with a quiet hand that let me know they simply were not necessary anymore. Not only did I not need to hide myself, but it would be a shame to do so because I have so much to offer and there are people out there that want me to be whatever the hell feels right and they LOVE IT.

Hello WORLD!!! Its good to be back.

I get to pass go AND collect two hundred dollars! I do NOT have to go skiing this weekend with my dad. Now, I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. I love spending time with my dad, however I do not like to ski and I abhor skiing with him.

My father is a kamikaze skier. He is the crazy man that leaps out of helicopters to go flying down the side of the mountain that you're really not supposed to be on, taking a twenty foot drop off a cliff to then weave through a forest of trees which ends with some sort of retardedly steep slope with bits of mountain poking through the snow. Of course he does all of this at the age of 60. My dad rocks.

The problem is, I don't really like to ski, and the skiing I do enjoy is really at the intermediate level. You pick up a little speed, there still aren't any terrible bumps (moguls) and all in all you have a relaxing and yet exhilarating experience. It drives my dad nuts. He wants me to ski with him. I want to stay alive and keep all of my body parts attached. Unfortunately, the fact that I refuse to do anything daredevil-esk while I have wooden sticks strapped to my feet and I'm standing on a mountain of slippery white crap has convinced my father that he must TRICK ME into skiing. As you can imagine, this goes no where good.

Thankfully, however, my mother stepped in on my dad's latest scheme (which was surprisingly successful I might add). Dad's best friend and I made an agreement that he would go to Burning Man with my father (did I mention that my dad rocks?) IF I would hit the slopes for a day. I should have known better. The phone calls started three weeks ago. The guilt trips and stories of a crappy snow season with no possibility for me to fulfill my side of the bargain if I didn't go skiing THIS weekend became more urgent and more frequent. Finally, I agreed to take a day away from my previously planned trip to Tahoe with my friends to go and ski for a day with my dad and his buddies. However, after going over to my parents to pick up ski gear, my dad tells me that his best friend probably won't count this soon to be day of skiing because I didn't come up with them and therefore I would need to come up and ski with them again.

Excuse me.

Thankfully, before I could respond, my mother (who had been listening in) jumped into the conversation, read my dad the riot act and proclaimed that I should be having a weekend of fun and relaxation, not running hither and yon trying to please my him and his buddy who had actually already reserved a trailer for Burning Man and a damn ticket. Thankfully he took the hint and we decided to reschedule. Let's hear it for intuitive mothers.

I love Free Will Astrology and THIS...

It's time to take down the "Under Construction" signs and clean up the messes from your works in progress. At least for now, your heart has lost its drive for further renovation and rehabilitation. Whether you think you're ready or not, then, it's time for a grand re-opening. I suggest you offer free toasters or other incentives to pull in new clients, as well as to coax disaffected old ones into returning. It may also help to put up an "Under New Management" sign.


...is my horoscope for this week. I find this to be almost eerie considering the weekend I am gearing up for. I am going to Tahoe for four days with a large group of people of whom many I have never met and many more that I have not seen in a good long while.

I moved back to my home town about six months ago and I have been a bit of hermit since my arrival. My lack of social activity is not due to any discord with my friends, but can be entirely contributed to my need to center. My heart and my mind were under construction. My mum was not well, I had just left a very stressful job that I was considerably torn over and my love life had been on a roller coaster. While I usually try to portray myself as an extrovert, I am really a closet introvert and in times of extreme stress I revert to tucking myself into a ball in the corner with a good book. I usually only get to that point in extreme cases, when my battery is completely tapped out and I'm a hop skip and a jump from going loony.

Now I am beginning to peek my head out of the covers and this weekend is the first time I will be seeing many of these people in many months. I am nervous. I've heard that some feel that I have slighted them because I have not attempted to make contact. I know of at least one that bears a grudge. I have taken this into account and while I did consider going back to playing hide and go seek (you can't see me if I can't see you), I thought that it really is time for me to get back out into the land of the living and breathing and doing and dancing and loving and singing and crying and laughing and...

Watch out world. Here I come again.

I was informed of my bag status some weekend about six months ago by one of my best friends and her significant other. They both told me I was a bag. It had started two days before as an obscure and random joke. They had been walking to school and chatting about world events. She got overly excited about something and he made an off handed comment about her needing to breath into a bag so she didn't hyperventilate. She blew in his ear. Foolishly, he made the proclamation that he "was NOT a bag". Through his vehement denial, he unwittingly gave birth to the first bag. Himself. Of course, she is a bag too. Then they roped me into their baghood. It really should have died there, a little bit of inside joke so absurd that it was almost not funny. But people were curious. Who's a bag? Why are they a bag? YOU'RE a bag!!! Suddenly there were bags everywhere! We formed a bag council. I am now one of the bag high poombahs and as such, I have a bag name. All bag's with enough clout to bear a name must have said name relate to food that is indicative of them in some manner. There is Doggy Bag and Matzah Bag. Cheese Bag, BBQ Bag, Schnitzel Bag and Baguette. I am Biscuit Bag, the ultimate cookie, the perfect compliment to strong cup of tea. I AM a bag and I'm proud of it.