Explorers Are We

The Madness

2007-03-17T19:09:00.000-06:00

I’m sitting watching that semi-wretched semi-remake of Bewitched with Will Ferrell and Nicole Kidman because my March Madness brackets are truly terrible. I can’t stand to watch anymore games in which my picks lose. Thanks Duke, Creighton, Illinois, Washington State, Maryland and Arkansas! And that’s just part of my list.

Huh…I forgot Steve Carell was in that movie…

Where was I? Oh right, my pathetic brackets. As you may all recall last year, I was in a pool at YB. One where money was involved, and where I had to count up the points, which only made my ultimate second to last place finish that much more painful.

This year I was invited to Trout’s family and friends’ bracket. Only allowed to enter one bracket, something bigger than money is at stake…pride is on the line…and apparently a trophy, but I have serious doubts it actually exists. The ol’ YB gang is also doing a bracket again, except this year, only one of us still works there. I have three brackets entered there, which is really helping my chances. I’m feeling okay about that.

However, the same cannot be said for the other game. For a brief and shining moment on Thursday night, I was in second, that’s right second, place. I was feeling pretty good about myself. Then VCU beat Duke in the first upset of the tournament and my bracket has steadily gone downhill since. Sure, sure, I’ve had a couple wins here and there but I’ve now sunk to last place. Last, friggin’ place. In a bracket with the most enthusiastic, passionate and lovingly sarcastic college basketball fans I’ve ever met. Hopefully I get invited back next year.

Oh, hey, look at that. Bruce Almighty is on now. Isn’t Steve Carell in that one too? Sounds like a good idea to me.

And to all of you I’m competing against, you should be thanking me because I’m making your lives just a little easier. You’re welcome.

Hasta.

Rub-A-Dub-Dub

2007-03-14T21:28:00.000-06:00

Trout and I just got back from a lovely round of drinks and dinner with his former college advisor, and I’ve got some time to kill before Lost starts, so I thought, in an effort to try and keep my word this time around, I’d try and write a post. I promise nothing spectacular or profound, but it’s at least something, right?

So, last night I caught/developed some obnoxious stomach flu bug, thing. Thankfully, I was able to finish the after-work work that needed to be done before the stomach cramps hit full force. I spent the remainder of the evening laying on the couch doing a lot of moaning. Trout might call this mansick…but well I’m not a man, so I’m not really sure how I should classify it. But needless to say I did a lot of lying around making disgruntled/discomfort noises while Trout tried to watch some show on the Military Channel where stuff blows up.

Around 9:00 Trout suggested maybe taking a bath would help. The thought was very intriguing, whether it would help my stomach woes or not. Intriguing enough, even, to get me up off the couch. You see, I love, love, LOVE baths. You may look at that last statement and think….um, okay. Why? You seem very adamant about that. It’s a bath. Neat. Well I have a very good reason behind all this.

Growing up, we had always had a very large bathtub in our house. The large built into the wall model was later replaced by a beautiful porcelain claw foot. The tub was deep and long enough to allow the user to stretch out almost completely. Nothing melts away the stress of the day or muscles aches, pains or stiffness like a nice, long soak. Add some bath salts to that equation (especially Burt’s Bees) and I can assure you there are few other places I’d rather be. Living with dorm bathrooms for four years, trips home always entailed at least one good soak in the bathtub. One of the main selling points for my apartment in Denver was the claw foot-like (albeit short) tub.

Now, the apartment in the 5400 does have a tub, but it’s your typical shower-tub combination. It’s certainly long enough, but not quite wide or deep enough for proper enjoyment. I thought of all of these things as I sat in the tub last night hoping the hot water and relaxation would help calm my stomach. It did help temporarily, but oh, how I miss the tub at my parents’ house.

I know it’s highly unlikely that it will happen, but when Trout and I actually start to look at houses, I swear if one has a decent claw foot in it, I’m going to have a hard time not wanting to buy the house on the spot. Okay, I might want a nice yard too, and a basement, but even if it doesn’t have these things, it will still be really hard.

I’ll Think of a Title Later

2007-03-01T21:03:00.000-07:00

This week has been only a little less crazy than previous weeks, but at least now I’m trying to limit my evening work tasks to an amount that won’t cause me severe burnout by week’s end. I said I’m trying, I haven’t quite gotten there yet. As I write this I still feel like I should have made more phone calls to various volunteers and clients about various issues that are going on. I did make the calls that absolutely needed to be made, but I just can’t push past that tonight. Is it possible I am doing the bare minimum right now? Perhaps. Am I saving a little bit of my sanity along the way? More than likely.

So instead of spending a couple hours on the phone this evening, I’m sitting on the couch, watching reruns of The Office while trying to get back into this blogging habit.

So, since I feel like this is kind of my first post back after a very long hiatus (sure I’ve posted sporadically for the last couple of months, but this somehow feels different), this is going to be pretty random.

So here are a couple things going on/things on my mind as of late:

Trout and I are looking into buying a house. The housing market in the 5400 is, shall we say, less than ideal, so the chances of getting into a house in the immediate future are a little tricky and fairly unlikely. We met with a real estate agent this evening, initialed and signed a lot of paperwork and are now officially on our way to start looking for a house that might lead to buying a house. Even if it takes us awhile, we’re willing to wait, because any house, even a fixer-upper, will be FAR better than this apartment. Oh, how we won’t miss this apartment.

Last night’s season premiere of America’s Next Top Model was unlike any other episode of ANTM that I’ve watched. And why is that you ask? What was so special about this particular episode? Was it dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks Kathleen trying to explain when it’s okay to wear fur? Was it the appearance of two plus size models (which I actually think is really cool), or the first mail-order-bride-model? Nope. Nope. And nope. It was unlike any other episode because Trout was watching it with me. My guilty pleasure was no longer safe in the sanctuary that was my little apartment in Denver. My guilty pleasure was now open to ridicule and snarky comments. Which, truth be told, wasn’t all that bad or undeserved. The model boot camp was kind of lame and some of those casting calls were just painful. But still, I’ve gotten him addicted to Lost and The Office. If I can just get him to like ANTM and Ugly Betty I might get to watch TV in a snark free zone. Although if that happened I’d probably just end up missing it. Okay you can make fun of ANTM, but don’t even attempt it with Ugly Betty. That show is great, and I'm not ashamed to admit that.

Trout and I head to Steamboat tomorrow, as long as the roads hold out. With that said, I should probably go think about packing and checking road conditions.

Not Tonight

2007-02-28T19:34:00.000-07:00

I've had work related things every night after work all this week. I actually had a bit of free time this evening...but then I realized that America's Next Top Model two hour season premiere is on tonight. And then Lost is new.

There will be no posting tonight.

I'm not one to schedule my life around TV shows, but come on people, it's America's Next Top Model and Lost. My guilty pleasure and the show I refuse to stop watching despite its slow moving and crazy confusing plot lines; I'm happily lounging on the couch tonight.

See you tomorrow night.

Making a Brief Appearance

2007-02-24T08:17:00.000-07:00

I think I’ve officially become the lamest blogger ever.

Ever.

Seriously.

I could ramble off the many and various reasons why I’ve become the lamest blooger ever, but that would be well…perhaps it would be a little on the lame side.

I wish I had some great insights on current world events. There’s a lot going on right now. The 2008 presidential race, global climate change, Anna Nicole Smith. Hell, I don’t even need to have great insights about current world events, I wish I could just write something about anything going on in our world today, or even just my world, for that matter.

But I just haven’t, and I wish I knew how to get back into the habit of writing. I know my work schedule has been (as Trout, and the French would say) like, le crazy, but I always have some amount of downtime in the evenings (even if it’s not as much as I would want). I usually spend that downtime watching TV or occasionally reading. The main thing is, I just want to find something low key that allows me to get my mind off work. Watching TV or occasionally reading seem to be the most obvious choices.

Oh, wait a minute, I could blog. Huh. How ‘bout that?

Not that this could lead to anything, but I’m going to really try and return this blog to its original state. I know you’ve heard this all before, but as I try to find ways to keep my sanity intact, I think this might be an excellent way to keep me out of a straight jacket.

Not that I have any readership left after being so defunct, but for those of you who still remain, it might actually be worth it.

Stay tuned.

I Have a Problem

2007-02-04T21:30:00.000-07:00

For the Super Bowl, Trout and I made up some snacky foods to enjoy while we watched the game. After a quick trip to the grocery store, we came home and made some little smokies in Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ sauce and layered bean dip.

I could cut myself off from the little smokies, the beer, I could even stop myself from the chocolate covered gram cracker cookies. The dip is a whole different story.

Despite being continually full today, I couldn't stop eating the dip. It just sat there, with it's layers of refried beans, guacamole, sour cream, cheese and tomatoes, taunting me. I could manage a break from the binging once the bowl of chips emptied, but then Trout just brought the remaining bag of chips into the living room. Once the bag of chips entered the scene, I was done for. I took a small break from eating to talk to my parents, but once I was off the phone with them I started up again, even though it was 9:00. I finally realized it was really too late to be eating and finally put plastic wrap over the remaining dip (which wasn't much) and forced myself to put it in the fridge. The bag of chips is almost gone and I've lost count of the times I've told myself I should stop eating because I'm full.

It's official, I'm addicted to dip. If it's in front of me, I won't be able to stop eating it. And that doesn't just include layered bean dip. The same goes for chips and salsa, guacamole, queso, spinach artichoke dip, Alfredo sauce (to dip with bread), and olive oil with balsamic vinegar (also with bread). Luckily, I don't have a reason to eat my favorite category of food very often, so at least when I do gorge myself, I don't feel as guilty as I could.

Have a great week, everyone. I have work related events going on every night this week, so posting just isn't going to happen, even if I wanted it to. See you all here next weekend!

Ooh La La

2007-01-31T19:24:00.000-07:00

Because I'm a huge dork and am still a little giddy about the couches, here are some before and after shots of our living room. Grown-up furniture is fun!

Livin’ It Up in the 5400

2007-01-28T09:26:00.000-07:00

I had a whole first paragraph written out last night about actually writing before Sunday morning and how proud of myself I was. However, before I could finish the post I fizzled out and ended up helping Trout decoupage our TV cabinet instead. Anyway, now it’s Sunday morning, and hopefully this post will actually make it to my blog.

This weekend Trout and I had nothing particular planned. However, a combination of events led us to do something neither one of us had ever done before. Yesterday, after searching in two different towns, we purchased real, grown-up furniture.

It all started Friday night at a going away party for one of Trout’s coworkers. A couple of his coworkers and I were admiring the host’s living room furniture. Those of us in the conversation discussed how nice it would be to one day own actual furniture that wasn’t inherited from friends or family, or bought at a second hand store. We agreed second hand store furniture could usually be restored and decorated to one’s own tastes, but the inherited furniture, more often times than not, left the spaces in which they occupy looking mismatched and eclectic, but not necessarily a good eclectic. This describes Trout and my living room perfectly.

The second catalyst to this story has been in place since I moved to the 5400. As you all know, I left my massive (and free) couch in the hands of a thrift store before I departed Denver because Trout already had a couch, and it just seemed silly to bring mine along. Well, Trout’s couch is really a loveseat, and a pretty worn down, sagging loveseat at that. It’s been a great little piece of furniture, it’s served us well, but it’s very hard to get (or stay) comfortable on it for any period of time anymore. It’s also more of a futon than a loveseat, as the cushions fold out to make a mattress/sleeping pad of sorts. This gives the whole couch little structural support. Now that we have an actual guest bedroom, we have no need for a sleeper sofa, let alone a couch that makes our backs hurt.

Watching an early morning soccer game between Tottenham and Southend, Trout and I decided that enough was enough, we needed a new couch. This was not an impulsive sort of idea, we have been thinking about this for awhile now, but this morning, we realized we couldn’t go on sitting like this for much longer. After looking in three different furniture stores, (and going to a town 30 miles away) we found our new couch. I should probably pluralize that, because after a bit of debate we also bought the matching loveseat. Now, once we saw the couch we actually liked, we realized we had one big obstacle to get over. We had to release ourselves of our college furniture mind frame. Just because a couch isn’t $50 doesn’t mean it’s not worth investing in. Spending money on something you would use everyday is okay.

And spend a lot of money we did. Or I should say I spent a lot of money because I was the lucky soul who handed over her credit card to pay for our new lovely pieces of furniture. I do get double frequent flyer miles, so not only do we have classy furniture, but we’re also well on our way to earning a free trip to somewhere, at some point in the future. It’s a win, win situation!

Tomorrow the new sofas arrive and we have to figure out a way to break it to our current loveseat/futon. In the meantime we’re being extra nice to it, and we should probably remove it before the new couches arrive, otherwise it might throw itself in the dumpster. It deserves better than that.

Greetings from the Ice Planet of Hoth

2007-01-21T14:09:00.000-07:00

I really thought I’d do a better job and updating now that my schedule has slowed down a bit. Yet here I am, a week since my last post, and I’m still struggling with things to write about.

I’ve come to realize two things about writing on this blog now that I’m in the 5400. It was easier to write about things when I was living in Denver because I didn’t have to be so anonymous about everything. There was a certain amount of anonymity built into to writing about Denver, just because of the mere size of the city. Just because I wrote about Snooze or Lechugas wasn’t going to reveal details about my exact location in Denver, my profession, my coworkers or anybody else I would talk about. In the 5400, it’s quite a different story. Now, if I write about local hangouts in detail (including real names), then the real identity of this quaint little town will be revealed and it will only be too easy figuring out what I do and what Trout does for a living, and then, well, I guess I wouldn’t have to worry about struggling to write a post, because there would be no more posts.

Now I realize that having to change how I write about certain topics isn’t a really stellar reason why I haven’t been updating, but I think it’s partly to blame. Coupled with shifting my frame of mind, when I was in Denver, I think that blogging might have filled the void where my social life should have been. It is much easier to come up with semi-interesting posts when you have (what seems like) all the time in the world. It’s not like Trout and I are out on the town every night, but lounging around at home with him, watching a movie or reading a book while he ties flies is a hell of a lot more exciting than sitting at home by myself trying to find something to watch on network television on a Saturday night. Then, blogging was a much more exciting and intellectual option, now, well, it’s just slipped amongst my priorities.

That being said, let’s talk about the weather! No matter how anonymous I want to remain or how super-social I’ve been lately, it’s hard to ignore the perpetual deep freeze we’ve found ourselves in the last couple of weeks. The wind rarely blows here in the 5400, but when it does, it usually means a significant weather change. Sometime during my second week of work, from the comfort of my cozy little office, I watched the wind whip the trees from side to side, knowing that while it tossed trees around, it was also sweeping all the warm air out of the valley and the temperature would quickly drop. By the next day, it was well below zero with a fair amount of snow on the ground. We haven’t hit above freezing (and, until late last week, above 10) since. Only on Thursday and Friday did the roads and sidewalks start to melt. Today we awoke to 6 more inches of light fluffy snow, but, thanks to overcast skies, it’s in the 20s. We’re still not looking at above freezing temperatures for awhile, but at this point, we’ll take anything above 20.

When it’s this cold, it’s almost a toss up whether to walk to work or drive. We don’t have a garage, and my car doesn’t have an engine heater. Driving about ½ mile requires me to warm the car up for at least 15 minutes, which is such a huge waste of gas. Even after a sufficient warm up, my car hates this kind of weather, and lets me know this in any way it can. However, walking to work requires bundling up in a long sleeve shirt, sweater, pull over fleece, winter coat, long underwear, a couple layers of socks, ear band, hat, mittens and a scarf. If the wind isn’t blowing, it’s pretty easy to stay warm, except that trying to breathe with out the buffer of your scarf means instant freezing of one’s nasal passages. Which is the better of two evils? For most of last week and the first part of this week, Trout and I both walked to work, but by the end of this week, I was dropping Trout off on my way to the office.

Both Trout and I have to head into our respective offices at different times today. To save time, we’ll be driving. The roads have not been plowed, possibly because the city of the 5400 doesn’t actually have any snowplows, but drive, we will. It’s quite the adventure. At least the weather is warmer. Not warm, just warmer.

And on a completely unrelated note, I think I’ve found the recipe for the Oatmeal Peanut Butter M&M Monster Cookies my elementary principal used to make. I haven’t had them in almost 10 years, and because they’re pretty much the best cookies on the face of the planet, I think I’m going to do some baking this afternoon. It will give me something to do while Trout watches the Bears and Saints game.

That’s all. Stay warm and at the very least, I’ll see you all here next week.

Hasta.

Thoughts on a Lazy Sunday Morning

2007-01-14T10:11:00.000-07:00

Life has finally started to pull itself into something that can resemble normalcy, something organized and even routine. It’s about friggin’ time. And you know what comes with routine, folks? Oh that’s right, Kathryn starts to post again! I can hear the collective cheers of my readership now…

Where was I? Oh yes…routine, normalcy, leaving the chaos behind. This should not be mistaken for dull, boring and predictable, it’s nothing of the sort. I’ve been looking forward to a bit of routine since moving in December. It’s nice to distinguish between the work week and the weekend. For about a month there, I was living in one continuous weekend. As lovely as that sounds, it’s not all that great. The weekends are wonderful because you don’t get to experience them everyday; they’re the mini-vacation at the end of the week. Sure, sure I was on vacation for a good long time, and shouldn't and won't complain about it, but I was ready to feel productive again.

Work continues to be one big learning experience. Thankfully it’s not such a huge source of stress anymore. I’m actually enjoying my weekends and I better understand what needs to be done and how I can go about doing that. I still have a lot to learn and the amount of work this job requires is still a little overwhelming, but at least now it seems like something I can do. Hurray!

Trout and I have joined a gym. Oh that’s right, you heard me correctly. We’re actually paying to go and workout somewhere. At the very least, we figured spending money on something would be a good motivator to get our money’s worth out of the experience. It feels great to be active again. It’s a gruesome reminder how out of shape I am, but hopefully that’s going to change. It also helps I won two free training session with gym’s owners at the gym’s open house. Trout and I can get in shape and actually know what we’re doing in the process.

Falling into a comfortable routine might not make for the most interesting posts, but sooner or later interesting insights on life in the 54oo or otehr various things will come out. It’ll happen, just give it time. Stay tuned.

Following Suit

2007-01-07T07:55:00.000-07:00

Getting up this morning and making my way to the living room, the first thing I noticed was that, at long last, Trout was updating his blog. Seeing this, I realized it has been a while since I updated. I’ve sat down with my laptop on several occasions to try and update, but lately the energy just hasn’t been there. But seeing Trout make the effort, I realize I have plenty of potential topics, but I know most of it I just don’t want to indulge in such a public atmosphere. Yet, I still want to write, so here goes.

Christmas and New Years were great. It was nice to be home and to narrowly miss the second of the now three snowstorms to hit Colorado in the last month. By narrowly missing the storm I mean we made it into The Ranch before the worst of it hit, but we then spent several hours for a couple days helping Jenn and Phil dig their way out. Trout and I were gone for a week and a half, and when we arrived back in the 5400 on New Years Day (because I started work the next day), we were both glad to be done living out of suitcases. It’s good to be home.

Now that Trout and I are back in the real world, things are great, if not insanely busy. I feel simultaneously excited and massively overwhelmed with all I have to learn and do. By the end of my first week I felt less stressed than at the beginning because I actually learned how to do the majority of the tasks my job requires of me. However, waking up this morning, my brain immediately began thinking of all the things that need to be done in the very near future that I didn’t realize on Friday. The stress level has shot back up again, something I hope will subside a little bit when I can actually get to work on everything that needs to be done. I’m sure I’ll eventually love my job, unfortunately, the learning curve is getting in the way of that at the moment.

I’m also sure the pancakes Trout is making right now will help alleviate some of my stress too. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go see if he needs any help.

Hasta.

Before

2006-12-20T10:11:00.000-07:00

Alright, after a third attempt and a differnt approach, here are the before and after of my new haircut. Oddly enough, this is the most recent picture that I can find with my hair down, even thought it was taken at Christmas last year. Just imagine my hair a couple inches longer and you'll be good to go. If this Christmas is anything like last Christmas, (because, as Trout likes to remind me, we are a "picuture family"), there will be plenty of picture from this time around as well.

After

2006-12-20T10:07:00.000-07:00

A former coworker from YB sent me the pictures we took the last time I was at YB (almost a week after my official last day). I always think cropped pictures look a little funny, especially since I know what the original picture looks like, but this is far better than the pictures I took of myself.

Unpacking: The Week (So Far) In Review

2006-12-20T09:53:00.000-07:00

Since arriving in the 5400 on Saturday evening, I’ve spent the majority of my days unpacking and trying to find places to put all the stuff from the boxes. It’s been a daunting and arduous task, but progress has been made on several fronts, but there is still a lot of work to do. Here’s a little recap:

Sunday: Trout and I arranged the master bedroom closet so both his and my clothes would fit in the closet. This required a trip to Walmart in a nearby town to buy the organizational supplies that we needed. Both of us hated spending that much money at Walmart, but we truly had no other option; one of the few downsides to small town living. Miraculously, with summer clothes stowed in totes and suits and really formal clothes in the guest bedroom closet, everything we wear on a daily basis fits in one closet.

Monday: The master bedroom was completely de-cluttered and everything is now where it needs to be. The bathroom was also unpacked and organized. Thankfully Trout doesn’t have many toiletries, so that way all of my stuff could fit. While this doesn’t seem like a lot, it was nice to get two of the rooms completely done. Somewhere amongst the unpacking I did manage to get to bank to get my accounts set up.

Tuesday: Unpacked the living room. All of my books came out of their boxes (which had been in the living room since Trout brought them back from Denver after Thanksgiving). Unpacking the living room also meant rearranging the furniture so everything fits. With the exception of the kitchen totes, all the boxes have been unpacked. Of course this in no way means everything is in its proper place but at least the living room is now livable.

Today: The guest bedroom, which has served as a storage area until now, needs to be addressed. There is a bed in there, so I guess you could say it can serve as a guest bedroom, it’s just that it’s piled high with empty boxes and random other objects that don’t have a home yet. Trout’s kayak and guitars, camping and fishing gear and bike trainer are also all somehow stuffed into the room. This room isn’t going to be as big of a transformation as the other rooms, but it will at least improve a little bit.

The kitchen will come last because Trout and I have a lot of duplicate things and we still need to decide what we’re keeping and what needs to go. Unfortunately, until then, the kitchen is pretty much out of commission. This isn’t too big of a deal since we’ll be gone for such a long amount of time, and this way no food will go bad while we’re gone.

I tried posting some pictures earlier this morning of my new haircut, but for some reason, they haven’t shown up yet. I’m hoping they magically appear pretty soon, but if not, I’ll just post them again a little later. I don’t know if I’ll post again before Trout and I head out on our holiday adventures, so if not, Happy Holidays, everyone!

Writing From a New Location

2006-12-18T09:11:00.000-07:00

Greetings from the 5400!

I thought I'd write just a quick little note to let everyone know that I made it to the 5400. I realize the picture above is as cheesy and corny as all getup, but it was no small feat to get out of my old apartment (I had a TON of help from Abbey and Dan, I wouldn't have been able to do it without them). The funny thing is (not funny, "haha" funny, but funny, none-the-less) on Saturday morning, as I headed up to my apartment after a quick trip to the store to get breakfast for my moving crew, and after a long night of cleaning and doing things like soaking my blinds in the bathtub and trying to wax as many floors as possible while still living in the apartment, my landlord pulled me aside to let me know that he probably wouldn't be around during my appointed check out time. He said that he trusted the apartment would be cleaned well enough and that I could just leave the keys on the kitchen counter. After all the sneering and knitpicking, he didn't even look at the place before I left. I know I shouldn't complain...but all that stressing and scrubing the baseboards with a friggin' toothbrush was really for nothing. Although it wouldn't suprise me if that's not the last I hear from my landlord; it really wouldn't surprise me if I got a note in the mail telling me about extra charges or some crap like that. I didn't even have a chance to attempt to negoiate some of my deposit back, so I better not hear from him, but I won't second guess that.

While Trout's at work today, I get to try and upgrade the apartment from complete and total disaster area to (at the very best) cluttered and crowded. I'll update more later, and I still promise to have better pictures of the haircut very soon ( I realize this picture isn't the best representation, but it's something, right?), but in the meantime, I need to run to the bank to set up new accounts so I can spend money other the imaginary money on my credit card.

I still can't quite believe that I get to live with Trout, but I'm finally here, safe and sound, and I couldn't be happier. Good times!

Packing: Day Four and Five

2006-12-14T22:20:00.000-07:00

I finally talked to my landlord yesterday evening, and now I have this dreading feeling that he is going to make my life just a little harder than I would like it to be come Saturday morning. For a brief, shining moment, I thought I wasn’t going to have to wax my hardwood floors. For a brief, shining moment, I thought we’d be able to head out of town by 10:00am. For a brief, shining moment I thought my landlord wasn’t going to live up to his reputation as being a big ol’ pain when it came to moving out. Oh, how I was so wrong, so very, very wrong.

To make a long story short, my landlord believes the following:

The nice men who are going to move The Couch will somehow damage something when they move it. A look of dread/disappointment washed over his face when I told him who would be picking up The Couch. I had to reassure him I would be home when they moved it, the people moving it are qualified to do so and that I would be sure to record any damage done to the building so he could charge the thrift store. I almost reminded him that the couch was moved in by my boyfriend, brother-in-law and boyfriend of my sister and they managed to not damage a single thing when they moved The Couch in, but I was afraid he might have an aneurism just from the thought.
I am not trying hard enough to get the apartment as clean as possible. When I told him that I couldn’t get the 15 or 20 years of grime off the floor next to the base boards in some parts of the kitchen, he gave me a disapproving look like the only problem was that I wasn’t trying hard enough. I should mention, after spending hours on my hands and knees with Mr. Clean and a toothbrush, the reason the floors won’t come clean is because the previous tenant (or possibly even the landlord, I’m not really sure) waxed over the dirty tile floor. While scrubbing yesterday I found little pieces of hair and bits of food waxed into the floor. My landlord then proceeded to tell me in all his years of being a landlord, only one tenant has cleaned an apartment to the point where it was as clean as when they moved in. And I should be prepared to wax all the floors in the apartment. Oy.

I don’t know what he can do if doesn’t think the apartment isn’t clean enough because he’s already taking my entire deposit for getting out of my lease a month early. He doesn’t really seem interested in looking at the apartment before the walk through on Saturday, even though he expressed major interest and concern over it just three days ago. I just hope he remembers that he said he would touch up the spots in need of paint. He’s also promised (in writing) that he would provide me with the supplies I need to wax the floors. So far, nothing has been mentioned about when and where I can pick up those supplies, even though the floor waxing has been a major topic of conversation. He’s supposed to stop by tomorrow to have a quick look at the apartment, let’s see if that happens.

Alright, so enough of my venting session about my landlord. On a lighter, much more exciting note, I cut my hair on Tuesday. I wasn’t going to mention it until I was in the 5400 (because I wanted to surprise Trout) but I unintentionally told him on the phone last night. Pictures, however, will have to wait until I’ve moved. The ones I’ve taken myself are not very good, so I’ll wait until someone else can take a picture for me. I’m still getting used to the change, but so far I really like it. I still can’t get over how fast I can get ready now. And I’m going to save a bundle on shampoo and conditioner. And I won’t be shedding 1 ½ foot strands of hair all over the place. Okay I’m done gloating about the new haircut. But in case you missed it, I really like it.

Considering how the day is shaping up tomorrow, I may not be able to post. The next time you’ll hear from me I’ll be done with the move and in the 5400 for good!

Woohoo!

Packing: Day Three

2006-12-12T21:48:00.000-07:00

Today didn’t feel nearly as productive as yesterday, but one very important thing was accomplished.

Many in the readership have expressed interest in how The Couch will be removed from the premises. Several of you have suggested taking a chainsaw to it and then either taking it out the front door or out the living room window. Dan even thought about hoisting it down from the living room (in one piece) by stringing ropes out the living room window and bathroom window. Taking it down the very narrow, back staircase and then somehow lifiting it about the banister, was also considered. It appeared that getting it out the apartment in any way than from which it was brought into the building was a better alternative.

Well all of that doesn’t matter now because I’ve found someone else to do it for us. Today, I walked to the Catholic Workers Thrift Store, conveniently located 5 blocks from my apartment, to merely inquire if they could at least take The Couch on Saturday morning. The nice man who runs the store said they would gladly take it. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be open until 10:00am that Saturday. This would surely push the move out timeline back, which isn’t the most ideal thing considering the 5400 is about 5 ½ hours from Denver. I still thought this was workable, though, at least I had a place to take the couch that wasn’t a random alley. Then, the nice man in charge made a phenomenal suggestion. They have a truck that picks up donations on Mondays and Fridays! Not only do they pick up donations, but they also move the furniture for you. That’s right, folks, the nice men from the Catholic Workers Thrift Store will be taking The Couch out of my apartment, through the narrow hallway, down the winding stairs and out the front door for me!

I made sure to let the nice man in charge let the nice men who will be moving The Couch that it will take several people and will need to go down some rather tricky stairs. The nice man in charge assured me the nice men who will be moving The Couth do this sort of stuff all the time and that there was nothing to worry about.

So that’s exactly what I’m doing. I don’t have to worry about The Couch anymore. This is a very good thing, considering I now have room to worry about other stuff. Running errands and the like took longer than I expected, so a minimal amount cleaning got done today. Holes from picture hangers and curtain rods were filled, but that’s it. I will be spending a good amount of time tomorrow with my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser trying to get all the grime off my kitchen and bathroom floors, something I’m pretty sure the previous tenants didn’t do. I’ve always thought those floors looked grimy and just overall gross, so I’m hoping this will fix the problem and leave a big ol’ smile on my landlord’s face when he does a preliminary look-through of the apartment tomorrow.

That’s all for now folks. Another update for another day. I don’t know if I’ll be updating tomorrow (a disappointment, I know) because I’m off to have drinks with some former coworkers at our favorite local hangout tomorrow night. Thursday also promises to be a busy day (lunch with another former coworker at Tom’s and a night at the theater), as does Friday (pick up paycheck, donate TV, close bank accounts, couch pick up and the arrival of Abbey, Dan and my good friend Sarah along with Jenn and Phil coming to hang out later that night). It seems the week is quickly coming to a close and it’s only Tuesday. Today was my slack day, but I still feel in control and I hope that’s still the case come Saturday morning (or even Friday night).

Good night folks, I’m sure I’ll talk to you very soon. Hasta.

Packing: Day Two

2006-12-11T16:47:00.000-07:00

I realize posting about packing may not be the most exciting thing in the world, but, in all honesty, I need something to do other than sit in front of my TV while I wrap my more fragile belongings (ie my glasses and dishes) in newspaper and then into large Rubbermaid totes.

So far I’ve packed all but six days worth of clothes and all of the dishes, pots, pans and utensils I won’t be using again while I live in this apartment. I think I’ve done fairly well for a day’s work, and the sun’s just starting to set. The frustrating thing is because all that I’ve packed is usually hidden away in closets and cupboards, my apartment looks more cluttered than it was before because I now have more boxes and suitcases out in the open. Before the night is over, I’m hoping to box up the odds and ends that were out before the additional boxes emerged, in an effort to keep the apartment under control.

My landlord stopped by this morning to let me know the bug guy was on his way up and looked nervously into my apartment. Just as he was always worried I (or any of his tenants, for that matter) would somehow destroy the historic integrity and overall condition of the apartment, I have a feeling he is worried I’m going to leave him with a huge laundry list of things to clean up, only after he’s discovered I really have destroyed some part of the apartment. Perhaps this is a fear of any apartment manager, and maybe it’s just a happy little quirk my landlord has. Either way, as far as I know, everything in the apartment is intact and I fully intend to leave the place cleaner than when I moved in.

Tomorrow I’m actually taking a break from the apartment to run some errands (which mainly consists of buying things directly related to the move). The afternoon, however, will be spent filling all the holes in the walls left by my picture hangers and curtain rods as well as scrubbing the kitchen and bathroom floors and probably the walls. It doesn’t feel like it now, but I really, really hope this is going to make Friday night and Saturday morning really, really easy.

Saturday can’t get here fast enough. That first night in the 5400 is going to feel so good.

Let the Packing Begin

2006-12-10T08:38:00.000-07:00

Friday was my last day at YB. I don’t know if it’s really set in that I don’t work there anymore. I have to stop in next Friday to pick up my paycheck, donate my TV and eat lunch at a café that, according to most of my coworkers, serves the best hamburgers in the city. It’s only six or seven blocks from my apartment and I’ve never been, so one of the program managers insisted that we go (for various reasons, we couldn’t make it last week). Knowing I’ll be back makes it harder to realize that I’m not staff anymore. Sleeping in on Monday will help, I'm sure.

So, now begins the arduous task of packing up my apartment in a manner that doesn’t cause me, or anybody who is helping me move, large amounts of stress. Other than a couple standing appointments, I have the whole week to devote to the process. Today will consist making lots of lists, and figuring out what I need in order to live for the next six days. If I don’t need it, it will be packed away in a box or tote.

I still feel confident that by the time Saturday morning rolls around, I will be very well prepared for the move. I think those who are helping me have their doubts, but I really am going to try and make this move as painless as possible.

Because getting the couch out of the apartment is going to be painful enough.

All I Want For Christmas

2006-12-03T19:08:00.000-07:00

Apparently, people think I’m hard to shop for. I’ll admit that it’s hard for me to tell people what I want for Christmas and my birthday. Most of the time I don’t need anything, so therefore, figuring out what I want is always a struggle. For whatever reason, when asked the magic question, it’s hard for me to remember that two months back I thought it would be nice to have a certain CD, or book, sweater or pair of shoes.

Because Trout and I were friends for a little over a year before we started dating (and had known Abbey for almost as long), he already heard about this gift-buying challenge before we were even a couple. To help him out in this arena, he introduced me to the world of Amazon.com wishlists. I have no problem adding little random items whenever I remember it would be nice to own something; it's actually kind of fun. Most things on the list are little: CDs, books, DVDs. Until a week or so ago, there were very few big ticket items (who wouldn’t want a Bose system to go with their 40 GB Ipod?). I’ve since removed the unrealistic items hopefully to ease any shopper stress. I’m a very simple person, it will take very little to make me very happy.

This year, also thanks to Trout, I made a Christmas wishlist for the first time since I addressed them directly to Santa Claus. This caused a little bit more stress than I expected, but I made it through and got the list sent out to the appropriate parties. As a side note, whoever in my family drew my name in our annual Christmas Present Draw, let Trout know if you would like to see the list, he has a copy of it.

If I really am hard to shop for, then, according to ads on television and radio, I am a rarity because women are actually very easy to shop for. It appears that all women want is jewelry. If it’s sparkly or shiny, the females of the world can think of nothing else they want for Christmas, and for that matter, Valentine’s Day, their birthdays and anniversaries. Now don’t get me wrong, I like looking at jewelry as much as the next girl. If given any sort of jewelry for whatever reason, I will most certainly not reject it. I’ll wear it very happily.

There is nothing wrong with getting jewelry on any occasion, but the extent advertisers go to during the holidays to convey how much women want the bling is a little outrageous. So far, my favorite ad goes something like this:

Voice Over Guy: When a women says…

Woman: Honey, I don’t want anything for Christmas.

Voice Over Guy: What she really means is…

Woman: (in a sultry-esque tone) I want diamonds.

Until I heard that one the radio earlier this week, I was always slightly amused and a little dismayed with this theme:

Pondering Husband: I got my wife diamond earrings for Christmas last year, I want to surprise her, what you do suggest I get her this year?

Jewelry Store Owner: Why don’t you surprise her with a beautiful diamond pendant or necklace!

Because clearly surprising her with something besides diamonds would be unacceptable.

The ads are so frequent and becoming more and more ridiculous, I almost want to stop watching TV and listening to the radio until after Christmas. I remember feeling this way last year as well. Advertisers are making women out to be bling obsessed harpies. We couldn’t possibly be content without jewelry; if we can’t get diamonds, we’ll settle for pearls or maybe a mix of diamonds and other precious stones. See? We’re very easy to shop for, after all!

To take a stand against such atrocities, you will not find anything resembling jewelry on my Christmas list or wishlist this year. If you feel so inspired to buy me something sparkly or shiny, by all means, knock yourself out. Just know that, when I open up gifts on Christmas and any other occasion, and I see a CD, board game or cookbook, I’ll be just as happy.

Woohoo!

2006-11-28T18:42:00.000-07:00

Today I was offered (and tomorrow I will accept) a position for a job in the 5400. It's official, I'll have a job before I actually move.

That is all.

Amidst the Chaos

2006-11-26T09:33:00.000-07:00

Moving is never an easy thing, and I don’t consider myself very good at it. I grew up and technically lived in the same house until I moved to Denver in 2005. I moved back and forth from BH to L-town every fall and summer, but packing up a dorm room that can fit almost entirely in my Honda isn’t the same as packing up an apartment, or even all the things you acquired and purchased to fill an apartment.

I will admit that the dorm moving days were not very organized and often slightly frantic at times. The whole process did improve over the years, but even now, no matter how organized I feel, no matter how far ahead I try to get, I still feel like a inconvenience to people, feel like I own too much stuff, and wish I could hire professional movers so that I wouldn’t have to feel bad about any of the aforementioned qualms.

The time has come to move again and this time around I hope all my planning will help ease at least some of the stress that will inevitably hit me smack up side the head on moving day. I made a trip to the 5400 two weekends ago and I took a majority of my clothes and shoes. When Trout left yesterday, he left with my kitchen table and chairs, books, bookshelf and my curtains. Some large items that came with me to the apartment will not be coming with me to the 5400. However, even if my entertainment center and couch will have a new home, they still have get out of the apartment down the curving, awkward staircase and out of the building. Every time Abbey and Dan come to visit, Dan takes a good long look at my couch and schemes ways to get it out of my apartment, ways that he hopes are easier than what it took to get it into the apartment. So far, these ideas include sawing it in half, dropping it out of my living room window, and just leaving it in the apartment as a permanent fixture; an apartment improvement.

With moving day less than three weeks away, the apartment is now in a constant state of chaos. Boxes and totes are strewn about my living room, having already made one trip to the 5400, they will soon be filled once again with the remainder of my personal belongings. Until then, they leave my living room cluttered and hard to move around in. The apartment isn’t nearly as empty as I thought it would be, but it will be soon enough. The next three weeks are going to fly by.

When I’m not thinking about how to pack the apartment, my mind immediately starts thinking about my last two weeks at work. I have two almost impossibly huge projects I have to complete before I leave, and when I think about the state of my office, and realize it is more of a disaster than my apartment, I wonder if those two projects will actually be finished before I leave. Everyone at work (well everyone who knows at this point, some people weren’t there on Wednesday when I made the announcement) is very supportive of my decision to leave, which gives me hope that the remainder of my time at YB will not be uncomfortable or awkward. I am very grateful that this is the case and not what I feared it would be, but the fact of the matter is, work both physically and mentally speaking, also in a state of chaos. This project is consuming all of the physical space in the office, and thinking about how to ensure its completion consumes my brain an average of 10 hours a day (during the work week, that is…but then again it bleeds into my evenings and weekends too).

As if that weren’t enough, I’m also applying for jobs in the 5400 on the side. Originally, I was going to wait until after the first of the year to really start job searching, but some opportunities have come my way that I couldn’t just ignore. As a result I’ve submitted my résumé to a couple of nonprofit agencies in the area, and now have a phone interview this coming Tuesday I still need to prepare for. I’ll also hear back from the other agency this week about whether or not I will interview with them, one in which I really need to study up on if I get the interview. Somewhere amongst the chaos I need to find time for this too.

Normally, with the two thousand things going on in two thousand different directions, I would normally be freaking out, with a little hyperventilating thrown in for good measure. This time, however is much, much different. Amongst all the chaos, there is order. The end result of all this far outweighs any current unpleasantness. Work may be crazy and the apartment is, and will remain, in a state of disarray, but all that really doesn’t matter, and almost seems inconsequential. In less than three weeks, I get to be in a place I’ve never been before, but have waited my whole life to find. That’s what matters, and it’s the one thing that’s keeping me calm and focused amidst all the change. I can’t think of a better motivator than that.

Happy Thanksgiving

2006-11-23T08:54:00.000-07:00

As Trout and I get ready to head down to The Ranch to enjoy lots and lots of food, wine, football and everything else that comes along with this great holiday, I must share my good news, briefly, before heading out for the remainder of the week.

Yesterday, I gave my two weeks notice at YB and will be moving the the 5400 on December 16th. The drama and knowing I would never be anything but "the assistant" were not good enough reasons to make me stay in Denver. It is time to move on (and up) and I couldn't be happier.

I get to move back to the small town atmosphere that I've missed more than I ever expected. I get to find a better job that will challenege me in more ways than how to most efficiently create mail merges or organizing personnel files. Most importantly, I finllay get to live in the same city and state as Trout. We've had to deal with the long distance thing for over a year now, and I can't wait to put that chapter behind us. I have no regrets and it's been fun, but I'm so ready to not have to do that anymore.

Alright, more will follow after the holiday, but I just had to share because I've been wanting to talk about this for months now, and haven't been able to. Now that everything is out in the open and everyone who needs to know, knows, I can write about it all I want. Woohoo!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Coming Soon

2006-11-21T21:17:00.000-07:00

Big news will soon be featured here at Explorers Are We.

Yes that's right, you heard it here, folks. Months in the making, this news, and not being able to write about it, has caused the content of this blog to disintegrate rather quickly. But soon, all will be corrected. Sure, sure I've made a lot of excuses these last couple of months for my less than stellar updating-skills. But the root of it all is this simple fact: anything worth writing about, the things that I've truly wanted to get off my mind and out into the public could not be professed to the general public. Yet.

However, after tomorrow, I will be able to clear the air. I'm guessing that most of you already know what this news will entail, but for those of you who still remain curious, stay tuned, because, even with the approaching holiday, I will post. Even if I have to do it in the wee hours of the morning, while fighting off a (first, second or third) food induced coma, I will write something worth reading.

Hasta,
Kathryn

The Best Part of Waking Up? Eah. Maybe…

2006-11-12T15:24:00.000-07:00

Trout loves his morning coffee. He has tried to kick the habit, but still starts his morning with a nice, black cup of the magic sauce. When either of us visits one another, mornings always start out with obtaining coffee in some way. Usually this means an early morning outing to Starbucks, or a nice greasy breakfast (except when we go to Snooze, it’s not so much greasy as freakin’ amazing and sometimes smothered in chocolate, cinnamon butter or syrup), where coffee is ordered right off the bat. On rare occasions (and this only happens when I’m visiting Trout, because I don’t own a coffee maker), we sit at home and drink homemade coffee. It is very much a little morning ritual when we get to see one another. It just wouldn’t be morning without it.

I’ve never been a coffee drinker, despite loving the smell and coffee flavored things like Dairy Queen Mud Pie Blizzards. However, since I started dating Trout I find myself drinking coffee more and more. On the rare occasion I would drink coffee (as opposed to the glass of orange juice at breakfast or the hot cocoa from Starbucks), I would override the coffee flavor with cream and sugar. I know, I know, I’m a disgrace to coffee drinkers everywhere.

I remember having a conversation with Trout, quite awhile back now, about my concerns that dating him would turn me into an actual coffee drinker, or even, get me addicted to the stuff. I wasn’t sure what to think about this, but still didn’t worry about it too much, as I was still drinking orange juice or hot cocoa when Trout enjoyed his morning cup. However, in the last few weeks, when offered coffee, not only do I accept, but I don’t ask for anything in it…and the killer part is, I actually enjoy drinking the stuff. It is no longer a struggle to finish the cup. I drink it with ease and then wonder if I should ask for a refill. By myself, it hasn’t become a morning ritual, by any means, and I don’t have withdrawals yet, but a part of me wonders if that’s what’s next.

Although, now that I think about it, I did get a caramel latte instead of regular coffee the other day…so maybe I’m not as far down that road as I think I am. Or that’s what I’m telling myself anyway.

2006-11-08T21:54:00.000-07:00

I realize that I should feel really good about voting this past Tuesday. It was the first time I actually voted at a polling center. The only other time I voted (in the 2004 election) I voted by absentee ballot. I felt that whole process was very anticlimactic, voting weeks before the election. So, this year I thought things would feel different. However, that wasn’t quite the case.

Colorado changed its voting system this year. Instead of only being able to vote in your precinct, you could vote at any location in your county. This seemingly convenient system actually created longer lines and wait times for pretty much the entire state. I stood in line in the gym of my neighborhood’s rec center for over an hour before I actually got into a voting booth. Now I realize that there were people who had to wait in line much longer, and that maybe an hour doesn’t seem like a big deal. But I’m from a small town in a state with a very small population overall. I don’t do lines. And for that matter, I don’t do the whole paying for parking concept either, but that’s a whole other story. I made conversation with the people next to me in line, found out some of them actually lived only a few blocks from me and tried to stay cool as we all inched close to fulfilling our civic duties. Overall, it was a situation that no one could immediately improve, and at the end of the process I was mildly annoyed, but nothing that lasted longer than five minutes and nothing that would keep me away from the polls in the future.

I did my best to become an educated voter. I read over my blue book several times, talked about the issues with coworkers and friends and tried to ignore all of the advertisements on television as best I could. However, when it came down to it, as knowledgeable as I was about the candidates and issues, there were only two that I really cared about: the Amendment that would define marriage as being between one man and one woman and a Referendum that would give domestic partners basic legal rights. I have refrained from getting political or jumping on too many soap boxes since starting this blog, most of the time I don’t feel like I would be able to really state what I’m trying to say. However, I will say this, there isn’t any other issue that gets me more riled up and more frustrated than the obstacles that gay couples (and individuals, for that matter) have to face in our society today. Considering that the US likes to pride itself in being the land of opportunity and freedom, where everyone has the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, it’s pretty damn selective about who actually gets to partake in those rights. I think it’s ridiculous that some citizens of this country don’t have the same rights as others because of who they love and want to spend the rest of their lives with.

Needless to say, I was so disappointed and frustrated when Amendment 43 passed and Referendum I did not. I realize Colorado was not the only state to pass such legislation (except you, Arizona, thanks for giving us hope, but making English the official language? Okay…), but a part of me is scared to think of what could be next. Was I naïve to think our country was more open minded then this? I’m still proud to say I voted, and I realize that both victories and defeats are all part of the civic process. Of course, there were good things to come out of this election, so I can't complain too much, but another part of me is also glad to know that I won’t always live in a state that doesn’t allow basic civil and legal rights to all its people.

It will be an interesting two years. Can't wait for 2008.

These People Know Me

2006-11-05T15:24:00.000-07:00

While I’ve met a lot of amazing people since moving to Denver, there’s something uniquely wonderful about the people who knew me “way back when…” people who know my history, knew me before I was the person I am today.

I got to spend the weekend hanging out with one of my best friends from college, Sarah. We met our freshman year; we lived in the same residence hall and were on the Residence Hall Association senate together. We both applied to be RAs and ended up working in the same hall for the remaining three years we were at UW. For four years we lived, at the very most, 6 floors apart. We saw one another everyday, we took a spring break to our little hometowns together. Sarah really is, one of the nicest people in the entire world. She always has a smile on her face and she somehow has the ability to make me laugh and even squeal (shocking to even me!) like I’m a 16 year old. Even after five years, we are still finding strange similarities and parallels in each others lives. This also usually entails laughing and a little squealing. I love it, I miss that. And best of all, since she lives in Greeley and we now see how close we really are, we’ll hopefully be hanging out more.

We headed to a hockey game last night, but dinner lasted longer than we anticipated, and we never actually made it to the game. It didn’t matter though, we had a lot to catch up on, but at the same time it felt like it had only been yesterday since the last time we really talked. Even though we ate way too much food, both at dinner and breakfast this morning (at Snooze, of course!), and we couldn’t find the dueling piano bar after dinner last night, just walking around and talking was the perfect way to spend the weekend. Next up: a trip to Greeley! Woohoo!

Thanks!

2006-11-03T17:42:00.000-07:00

To everyone who gave their two cents about my haircut conundrum, thanks! I appreciate everyone’s point of view and perspective.

And just in case any of you are still interested…I think I’m going for the shorter haircut. It’s time I embrace what I’ve got, even if it’s not the norm. And, if for any reason, I have a hard time embracing everything, I’ll just have to wait a month and the problem fixes itself.

I’ll post pictures when the big day arrives.

A Question For the Masses

2006-10-31T19:50:00.000-07:00

A while back, I mentioned that as soon as my hair was long enough, I was going to cut it, donate it to Locks of Love and come out of the whole experience with a fabulous short haircut. A couple months later than I originally planned, my hair is finally long enough to go through with the original plan, and not a moment too soon. I’m tired of deciding what to do with it every morning. Drying it takes an extra 15-20 minutes out of my morning, not drying it means it’s wet for a good part of the day, and if the weather is cold enough, it freezes the second I walk out the door. I’m tired of shedding two foot long strands around the apartment and my office. At this length, even one strand of hair seems like a lot. It’s a wonder that I still have hair on my head considering how much I leave everywhere I go. Now that the moment has arrived, however, I’m having a bit of a dilemma.

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s just a haircut, but hear me out, okay?

As previously mentioned, I’ve had short haircuts in the past. The shortest was almost 5 years ago, and was by far my favorite haircut. I was all ready to get a very similar haircut, but then I started looking at other, shorter haircuts and I began to reconsider my options. Here’s the thing, though. My medical history has left me with some rather large scars on the back of my head. Just above the bottom of my hairline and slightly to the right sits a backwards seven with a very fat stem area where hair no longer grows. Almost any length of hair would cover up the top part of the seven, but the vertical scar would be very noticeable with hair shorter than four inches. In the past, the thought of ever having a haircut that exposed the scars was never an option. In the last couple of weeks, however, that doesn’t seem like such a horrible thing. It’s not like I would be able to see them. So what if they’re showing a little bit?

The styles that are becoming more and more appealing are ones that would expose the scar to some extent. So, the question I pose to you, my ever faithful readers, is this: do I go with the longer haircut, one which I know works with my hair type and would cover up the scars, or do I say screw it and go with a new, shorter haircut and embrace what I’ve got, even if it’s not exactly the standard for hip, trendy or very pretty? I’m still giving myself a little bit of time to think this over (and to get a little more length, just in case I decide not to go really short). In the meantime, let me know what you think.

Daylight Wasting Time

2006-10-30T20:35:00.000-07:00

I used to like Daylight Savings Time. It was like this mini-holiday at the end of October, a little addition to the sweetness of Halloween. The extra hour of sleep the first day made you feel good because you got the extra sleep without having to sleep in. It’s easier to get up in the morning. For a little while, even the non-morning people of the world can feel like the early hours of the day are their friends. Daylight Savings Time makes the morning a wonderful place to be.

I used to like Daylight Savings Time until I fully realized what it did to the evening hours. It robs us of it, that’s what it does! I didn’t really think much of it until this evening. I work until 6:00 or later, depending on when my interns’ rides (which could be parents or the city buses) arrive, and now with the time change, 6:00 is engulfed by complete darkness. Normally this wouldn’t bother me, but now, despite how nice the weather, I can’t walk to work anymore. Walking to work is one thing, but walking home in my neighborhood in the pitch dark is an entirely different issue. While I like to think my neighborhood is a safe place to live, I’m smart enough to know that it’s not a place that a skinny little small town girl should be walking around after dark.

So now, I’m dependent on my car 5 days a week. Thank you, Daylight Savings Time, thanks a lot.

Order Restored

2006-10-28T19:58:00.000-06:00

I usually consider myself to be a fairly organized person. Okay, I will admit there are one too many dust bunnies in my apartment, but for the most part, the place usually looks very presentable. However, I go through phases where nothing related to cleaning gets done. At all.

Clothes are strewn across the bedroom.

Shoes are in every room of the apartment.

Dishes are stacked in both sinks.

Leftovers get a little too left over in the fridge.

It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but there is one good thing that comes out this domestic chaos: the cleanup. It is surprisingly cathartic to restore the apartment to its orderly, clean state. Tonight I folded the clothes merely tossed in the closest over the last couple of weeks, picked up the other clothes and shoes, unpacked my bag from last night’s stay at The Ranch, generally put the bedroom and living back in order. Tomorrow, I’m washing dishes and even (!) balancing my checkbook.

It’s going to be a good weekend.

Thoughts About Jobs

2006-10-28T18:14:00.000-06:00

Yeah, yeah, so I'm obsessing a little bit about jobs lately. If recent posts aren’t evidence enough, I’ll let you all know that things on the job front are not exactly satisfactory. No detail is needed at this point, I’m sure someday you’ll get the whole story, but for now, all you need to know is that it’s caused me great unrest the last couple of months. Hence, not being able to think or write about much else.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking when it comes to jobs and careers lately. Sure, I still have some high points at work: when the last person walked out the door of our fundraiser a couple weeks ago, and knowing it (logistically) went off without a hitch, hearing about how impressed people are by our youth, or basically anything that has to do with our youth’s successes. I still believe in the organization’s mission and still think what we’re doing is an essential element in the community, some things have just changed.

Today an inkling of satisfaction creeped back into my job. At 7:30 this morning, I spoke to 500+ Nordstrom employees about YB. Yes, it was early in the morning, yes it was at this crazy shopping mall that I get turned around and ultimately lost, every time I go, but I really do like speaking to people about our organization. It breaks up the monotony of office work, and it provides a reminder of why I chose to work at YB in the first place.

On top of that, Nordstrom is a very charitable organization, and it’s always refreshing to see large groups of people, and large organizations, who want to give back to their community. I was able to sit through the store’s entire yearly-all-staff meeting, and what struck me the most was how happy everyone seemed to be. There was this uplifting atmosphere that I realize has been missing from my workspace since July. These people were all excited and joking around, you could tell they felt good about what they did for a living. There’s nothing wrong with retail, I love shopping as much as the next girl (and would love it even more if I had the means to actually shop once in a while) I just know I’d suck at it, so I’ve never considered it as a job option. So watching all these people in this particular field do what they do, and loving it, was just fascinating to me. I realize that somewhere amongst those 500+ people, someone wasn’t 100% content with their job, but the atmosphere was just so different from what I’ve been used to. It really made me think twice about where I’m at in my job and career.

Talking with one of my coworkers last week, got me thinking about the first job I had in high school. I started out bussing tables at Ole’s Pizza and Spaghetti House in my hometown the summer after my junior year of high school. I can remember driving home at the end of every night, smelling like pizza, a salad bar and the deep fat fryer all mixed into one, with sore feet and a little bit of cash in my pocket (which would later turn into a lot of cash when I actually started waiting tables) feeling like I really accomplished something. I don’t know if it was because Ole’s was my first job, but I just don’t get that feeling anymore. I know I had those moments in the beginning at YB, but I can’t even remember the last time I left for the day really feeling good about my job like I did when I was schlepping dirty dishes and jugs of salad dressing. Obviously, I don’t want to go back to bussing and waiting tables for a living, but I do know I want to go home with that feeling again. This isn’t anything profound, but, until a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t realize that was missing, and that’s something I want to get back.

So, you see despite all of my recent whining, it is slowly going away. I know that things need to change, and I am 100% certain that it will change, very, very soon.

I feel like I’m getting back into the groove of things. I’ve got nothing going on tonight, and since it’s only 6:00, you just may get another random post from me tonight.

Oh, you could only be so lucky!

sigh

2006-10-22T20:05:00.000-06:00

With another busy, stressful workweek and another wonderful weekend behind me, I am trying to do my best and live up to my blogging word. I still feel exhausted, still swamped at work, and still struggling to find the motivation to do my job to the best of my abilities. I realize my posts have been anything but uplifting, amusing or even interesting. I don’t want to turn this blog into a forum to whine about my current situation, but dammit, I feel like my current situation is slowly sucking the life out of me.

The fundraising event finally happened on Wednesday morning. Logistically, it went very, very well. This makes me extremely happy because this was the one area I actually had control over (and was in charge of). The room looked great, we didn’t run out of food, the speakers (all youth) were phenomenal, and the room was packed with people. A snowstorm the night before may have affected attendance ever so slightly, but even with the weather, around 280 people attended. Financially speaking, it was a little disappointing, but in an effort to remain as positive as possible, I’m not going to talk about that aspect. If I did go into it in any detail, a very long diatribe would follow. None of that tonight!

Getting through the week was a challenge, mainly because the beginning of the week involved 10 and 12 hour days. Looking back I really should have been more productive on Friday, because now I’m going to have to play major catch-up tomorrow, but I could hardly muster up the energy to get things done that absolutely had to be completed on Friday. On the bright side, being incredibly busy should make the days go by much faster.

Getting through the week had one very worthwhile reward: a weekend celebrating Abbey’s 21st birthday. I laughed so hard on Friday night, I could hardly breathe and my sides ached for hours afterward. Trout, Rothfuss, Phil and I watched the university’s football team win the annual “Border War” in the 30 degree, partly cloudy weather and Trout and I managed to leave L-town without having to take a big blue bunny named Lenny with us (as far as I know, anyway).

Despite all my bitching about my week, I really am fortunate to be able to retreat on the weekends. For the last three weeks, when work has been at its most stressful, I have been able to see Trout (on two different occasions!), hang out with my family (three weekends in a row) including Abbey (twice!), Jenn (all three weekends!), Mom (just once, but it was still a ton of fun), and Phil (all three!). There has been some relief during the week, in the form of lunches out of the office or drinks after work, it’s really the weekends that have pulled me through.

Thanks to everyone who has helped keep my wits about me this past month, hell more like the past four months. I know I haven’t been the most pleasant, but I really do appreciate the support

Even though work will still continue to be a challenge, things will definitely be clearing up a great deal sooner rather than later; there is a light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. As long as I keep that in mind, I’m hoping this blog will return to its regularly scheduled programming.

Oy

2006-10-15T19:36:00.000-06:00

This weekend, my mom and Abbey came down to visit. This was, of course, a ton of fun. I got free Avs ticket through work for Saturday’s game, so between hockey, Snooze, and the Botanic Gardens Pumpkin Festival, it was another great weekend. Well, except for when I forgot my apartment keys in The Ranch and had to wait for Jenn to bring me my keys. That wasn’t so great. But all things considered it was another wonderful distraction from work, and next weekend looks like its shaping up to be the same. Three weekends in a row with major plans…I just may be able to keep my sanity.

The coming week will, undoubtedly be the busiest week I’ve had in recent memory. Our big fundraiser in on Wednesday; the first part of the week will be spent working on last minute details and the second part of the week will be spent making sure all the loose ends are tied up. Between our fundraiser and various other social commitments (including another Hockey game, lunch at Tom’s, drinks with coworkers to celebrate the end of the fundraiser and the weekend in L-town to celebrate Abbey’s birthday), I’m busy every night for the next week.

I know some of you have expressed interest in updates on the upcoming week. I promise I will let you all know how the fundraiser turns out and how much of my sanity is still intact. In the meantime, I don’t think posting is going to happen, look for a new post next week. Hopefully by then I will be a much more relaxed person.

Secondly, A Recap

2006-10-10T19:39:00.000-06:00

Alright, folks, it seems I’m back in a blogging mood. For tonight at least. Here’s a quick little rundown of the last week or so:

As previously mentioned, my little car needed some major front end work done to it. After dropping her off Monday morning, I got her back this morning all fixed up and ready to hit the road. I tell myself that she definitely drives much better now, even if I can’t really tell the difference. I tell myself I can notice it, so that moment when I handed over my credit card doesn’t seem as painful. I know the work needed to be done, but it’s not nearly as visible as some other repairs she gone through.
Work is still insanely busy. We had an abrupt staff change early last week and I am now almost solely in charge of a fundraising event that will have a guest list of around 300 and needs to raise figures in the 6 digit range. And this event is next Wednesday. On top of the fundraiser and all of my other “normal” workload stuff, I’m also in charge of three teenage interns. Most days at work, when I don’t feel exhausted, I feel like I’m always two steps away from feeling in control. I’ve started dreaming about work…not good.

On three much happier notes:

Trout came to visit this weekend. Any time spent with Trout is a good time. It should also be noted that time spent with Trout is never long or often enough. Luckily, he got Columbus Day off, and was able to stay until Monday morning. So even though I just complained it wasn’t long enough, it was a longer visit than a normal weekend, and I really am happy about that. I won’t go into a hugely long summary of all our activities, but they did involve a Grateful Dead bar, suit shopping, Jackass Number 2, Thai food, Snooze, and a 1500 piece jigsaw puzzle. Pretty much, perfect, except that whole I had to go back to work and he had to go back to the 5400.
With any luck, because one of my coworkers kicks some major ass and will cover for me, I won’t have to work an event (on a Saturday) in a couple of weeks, which means Trout and I can meet up in L-town to celebrate Abbey’s 21st birthday (something we’ve been talking about for over a year now), and to celebrate Trout’s “bestest manfriend’s” birthday as well. If it doesn’t work out, and I end up working, not only will I be sorely pissed off that I have to miss my sister’s birthday, but Trout and I won’t see one another until Thanksgiving. Cross your fingers and knock on wood that this works in my favor, I need the celebrating, people!
My mom is coming to visit this weekend. I have no idea what we’re doing yet (although I believe breakfast at Snooze is definitely in the works, I was serious when I said I could eat there everyday), but like I said, I really need all the relief and distraction from work as I can get, and the next couple of weeks are going to be really hectic in that category, so a visit from my mom is just the ticket. Can’t wait.

Okay, that's all I can give right now. The next few weeks promise to be very interesting, so that will either mean I'll have lots of stuff to write about or I'll just be too exhausted to write anything. You may see me soon, you may not. Sooner or later (but probably later) I will post about it all. You have my word.

First, A Suggestion

2006-10-10T19:26:00.000-06:00

Pick up a copy of the most recent TIME magazine. There’s a great article about the genetic similarities and differences between humans and our nearest and dearest cousins, the primate family, and more specifically chimpanzees.

I realize the only articles that I’ve recommended lately have to do with evolution or anthropology, but well, it’s my blog and I can recommend anything I want. As you can all tell by now, articles like this one get me all sorts of academically excited and somehow simultaneously makes me wonder what I’m going to do with the rest of my professional life…

Crap.

2006-10-02T22:25:00.000-06:00

Today was just incredibly…bad. A Monday through and through. Today’s events will not only cost me a lot of money in auto repairs, but, professionally, it may also cost me my sanity.

I know I’m not being very specific, but I don’t really feel like going into a detailed story about the drama that’s surrounded work the last month or two. If there is one thing I can remain a little optimistic about is that I will no longer be bored out of my skull. Although, that might turn into being stressed out of my skull, not sure which is worse.

Car trouble is car trouble and, in my case that usually means the credit card and some slow, deep breaths. That is much easier to deal with.

So, I guess that makes two things to sort of be optimistic about. And tomorrow is Tuesday.

Make that three. Woohoo!

Motivation

2006-09-28T22:07:00.000-06:00

Since celebrating National Pancake Day, nothing blogworthy has really happened. I’m completely unmotivated at work. I put off grocery shopping through the weekend and this week, until Jenn and Phil came over for dinner last night, in which I realized the food in my house would not suffice for three people. I now realize that while I like to cook, I hate to grocery shop. I also hate to wash dishes. The pile created by last night’s dinner is still strewn about my kitchen. I like the satisfaction of having a clean kitchen, it’s just really hard to get the motivation to make it happen.

I don’t know if you can make yourself be motivated or if it’s just something that happens, but regardless, I’m going to make myself motivated this weekend. I have to make a trip to Target and a Hobby Lobby, two places fairly far away from my apartment. All rooms in my apartment also need to thoroughly cleaned. We’re talking dusting, vacuuming, mopping, scrubbing, the whole nine yards. Lastly, and certainly not leastly, I need to watch the commentary on seasons one and two of The Office. Oh yes, folks, it’s going to be a busy weekend. And enormously exciting to boot.

I think writing about it has already made me a little motivated to get this all done. Remind me to write about it again tomorrow night so this might actually happen.

On a side note, I think this is the most fragmented post I've ever written.

Oy.

Celebrate

2006-09-25T22:15:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow is Pancake Day (or at least it is in Denver). Normally I wouldn’t be excited about this, or even know about this random holiday (no matter if it’s incorrect or not—I realize that International Pancake Day is in February), but that was before I was introduced to Snooze.

Snooze is this restaurant a couple blocks from my apartment that serves amazing breakfast food. More specifically, it makes the most amazing pancakes. They serve everything from peanut butter and chocolate, white chocolate and raspberry, to the crème de la crème…pineapple upside down pancakes. I’ve always liked pancakes, but this place makes me want eat pancakes everyday for breakfast. They’re fluffy on the inside and crispy on the outside and served with flavored butters (like cinnamon or honey and ginger). In addition to pancakes, they also have omelets, burritos, fresh squeezed orange juice, and a tasty little dish called molten chocolate french toast (topped with bananas and walnuts).

Tomorrow, in celebration of Pancake Day, Snooze is serving 12 different kinds of pancakes. 12. Different. Kinds. Of. Pancakes. There was talk in the office today of an early morning breakfast meeting tomorrow. I realize it wasn’t an entirely serious conversation, but it seems unfair to Pancake Day to suggest something like the possibility of picking from a dozen different kinds of pancakes and then not follow through.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

It Really Is A Small World After All

2006-09-22T20:43:00.000-06:00

There has been several discussions amongst my coworkers about the “small town” feel that exudes from Denver. Apparently, a lot people think that Denver is small town. At this point in the conversation, I like to tell people if they think that a metro area of almost a million people is small town, they need to visit my hometown with me to realize what small town really feels like. 217 people is small town, the Denver-Metro area is not.

Obviously I don’t see Denver as small town. Every face I see walking down the street is a stranger. It doesn’t help that I know very few people in Denver, but even if I did, the majority of the people I pass on the street everyday would be indistinguishable for the next person I passed. That’s one of the things I like about small town, among so many other things, you actually see people you know. People say hello when they pass one another on the street. You can go to the bar and strike up a conversation, that has actual merit to it, with a someone, not just small talk.

After today, however, I have to rethink my scope of Denver. It could be more “small town” than I previously thought.

After work today, I headed downtown, first to run some errands, and secondly to try and help curb my new obsession with The Office. I was headed down to the Virgin Megastore (the closest store that actually sells DVDs) to get seasons one and two of the TV show to try and make up for the fact I unintentionally missed the series premiere last night. Once I got to the 16th Street Mall, I was still six or seven blocks away from the store, so I hopped aboard the free shuttle service that runs the length of 16th Street. Two or so blocks from my stop I noticed a guy walking down the sidewalk and thought he looked a lot like a kid I went to high school with. Rationalizing my thoughts I realized this was Denver and that there was a very slim chance that one of the 31 people I graduated with was walking down the sidewalk of a major shopping center at the exact time I was riding the bus down said street. I mean, it sort of looked like him but, who knows how much people change in almost 5 ½ years. There was no way it was actually someone I knew, that would just be too crazy.

I got off the bus and stood waiting for the stoplight when I heard a voice behind me say “Kathryn?” When I turned around, well, what do you know? The guy I saw walking down the street was in fact one of my high school classmates. In the year and half I’ve been in Denver, this has never happened. I’ve seen a couple of my coworkers from a distance walking downtown (where they still live and work), but never has something this random and out of the blue happened. I shop at the same supermarket as one of my current coworkers as well as one of my former coworkers and haven’t seen them the eight months I’ve been shopping there. What better place to run into people, but the grocery store? Yet every face (with the exception of some of the checkers) is completely foreign to me.

My mom (in true “small town” fashion) ran into Dan’s mom at the grocery store, or somewhere like that, a couple of months ago and told her that Dan was in Denver going to school. So I knew he was in the city, but I never would have thought I would very randomly run into him. We spent a couple of minutes catching up (as much as you can do amongst the throngs of late afternoon Friday shoppers trying to maneuver around the only two stationary people in the crowd) and promised to have drinks sometime to actually catch up. It was one of those moments that was so unexpected, it almost seemed wrong for it to last five or ten minutes.

We went our separate ways, and as I looked for The Office (unsuccessfully I should add; Megastore my ass), I couldn’t believe what had just happened. After today’s events, I’m going to have to admit defeat to my coworkers. If I can run into one of my fellow 31 high school classmates in the middle of Denver, then maybe it really is the small town of all the major cities in the country.

Is gooood yeaaah?

2006-09-20T20:38:00.000-06:00

Call me crazy, but I can’t wait to see Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan.

My previous boyfriend was a huge Ali G (or more accurately Sacha Baron Cohen) fan. He owned both seasons of Da Ali G Show on DVD and laughed hysterically every time he watched. In the beginning I didn’t find the show nearly as amusing as he did. Generally I’m not a huge fan of, what I call, awkward humor. Humor based on making other people feel completely uncomfortable, I used think this was not-so-funny. This, however, is no longer the case. Now it’s just plain funny.

For those of you who may not be acquainted with Cohen, he’s a British actor who portrays three roles on his TV show. Ali G is a Jamaican-English “gansta”, Bruno, the gay, Austrian fashion show presenter and Borat, a Kazakhstani reporter. Those who interact or who are interviewed by any of Cohen’s personalities have no idea they’re being played. This is perhaps the most remarkable thing about the show. Ali G manages to score interviews with people like Gore Vidal, Donald Trump, Boutros Boutros-Ghali, and Andy Rooney. The guy freakin’ asks the Secretary General of the UN (after introducing him as Boutros Boutros Boutros Boutros-Ghali) if Disneyland is part of the UN, and he calls Buzz Aldrin, Buzz Lightyear. Once I got past the awkwardness of all these interviews I just had to wonder, how did Ali G get past all of these peoples’ agents? Do your research people!

So, eventually I could watch the shows and not feel uncomfortable about each interview or encounter Cohen’s characters have with various cross sections of the world. Once I crossed that hurdle I realized that Da Ali G Show is more of a sociological experiment than a comedy sketch show. The most interesting aspect being the different ways people reacted to each individual. People got downright bitchy with Ali G; people were a little more tolerant of Borat’s antics, but still many became thoroughly offended when they figured out his not-so-hidden sexual innuendo driven requests. It seems that people are most tolerant and patient with Borat. He says things that are, most times, patently offensive, but it’s as if people merely brush it off because he’s that clueless foreigner; it’s okay because he doesn’t know any better. He’s not trying to be offensive, so they let it pass.

And that is why I’m so excited to see a whole film about him interacting with us clueless Americans. Maybe it’s that anthropological geek in me, but this movie is going to be hilarious. Watching people deal (I’m guessing not so gracefully) with the cultural “other” because they’re just as ignorant about it as the supposed foreigner will be funny and fascinating on so many levels, I’m so forking out $10 to see this one.

Fall

2006-09-18T21:10:00.000-06:00

I know it’s not official until Saturday, and school started several weeks ago, but I think summer officially came to an end this weekend. Even if we technically have a couple days left of summer, fall has definitely arrived in my life.

At work, the fall session starts tomorrow and the office will once again be filled with energetic middle and high school students. The office has been completely sans youth for the last month. I don’t think I could have gone much longer without them around. The crew leaders were back two weeks ago, which also helped a tremendous amount. I never thought I would actually be glad to have temporary officemates who sing along to Pussycat Dolls using highlighters as microphones, hold dance-offs or play the same ‘chero song over and over again. Things are back to normal and not a moment too soon!

I think (and I know I run the risk of completely jinxing it by saying this) the heat wave is over. There is a certain feel in the air, a crisp coolness that hangs around longer than just the early morning hours. This morning, after a cool weekend and even cooler nights, the final sign of fall happened: the heat was turned on in my apartment building. The building is heated by steam radiators; as I was making my bed this morning, there was a subtle smell in the apartment I couldn’t quite place, but definitely recognized. Walking past the heat register, I quickly figured it out. The smell of metal slowly heating up was soon followed by a quiet hissing, and I realized I’ve never been so happy to know fall was here.

Living, sometimes working, and often driving, with no air conditioning this summer has never made me more eager to pull the sweaters from the top shelf of my closet or curl up in my slippers and polar fleece pants after actually cooking (!) dinner. I have also vowed to myself that as long as the days stay long enough, I will be walking to work unless it is absolutely necessary. A nice long walk on a brisk fall day is so wonderfully refreshing, I can’t believe how cliché it makes me sound.

Now if only I could skip the whole Ice-Planet-of-Hoth, bad road conditions with crazy drivers aspect of winter, I would be in stellar shape.

Also, everyone should head over to World O’ Trout to welcome him back to the blogosphere. A month and half without internet, I’m not sure how he did it. I would have gone crazy.

Kids These Days

2006-09-17T14:42:00.000-06:00

I haven’t really used this blog for social commentary or ranting about too much. However, after reading this article, I have no choice. Sit back folks, because here comes a good old fashioned rant, a mini-soap box speech if you will.

Perhaps I’m a little biased because I was an RA and lived/worked in a residence hall, complete with roommates, single beds and communal bathrooms, for all four years of college. Yes, I will admit I only had a roommate for a semester and was fortunate enough (because of my 24/7 job) to share a bathroom with only one other person for two years of the four I was in school. I did however, despite my slightly upscale (for the school I was at, anyway) living arrangements, did have to deal with roommate conflicts on a weekly basis, and did for two years share a bathroom with 6-12 other girls.

I think there is a lot to be said about communal living. To me the whole college dorms experience is more than just a right of passage. I think that it is an excellent way for students to learn how to interact, live and work with other people. It teaches patience and cooperation, compromise, etc, etc. All of which will undoubtedly help you once you enter the “real world.” Like I said, I only had a roommate for a semester (when she left school, her spot was never filled, I didn’t opt to have a single room, I just lucked out in that sense), but I did share a room with one of my sisters for all but my last year of high school and a couple summers when I home from college. I’ve experience the whole “roommate” dynamic for a good long time. I’m trying not to a hypocrite in this post.

Roommate conflicts and even floor conflicts became an increasing problem every year that I worked for Residence Life. Talking amongst other RAs, we came to the conclusion that people just don’t know how to live with one another. They grew up with their own rooms, and when they’re suddenly put into an environment where they not only have a roommate, but have to live on a floor with 50 other people, many times the basic, common courtesies just don’t exist or took awhile to establish themselves. Most of the conflicts were resolved, but other times you’d just be left in a state of disbelief. Are people really that incapable of sharing with others? Can people not interact with others on any level?

Of course this doesn’t happen all the time, I was lucky enough to have, as a whole, great floors where the majority of the people got a long. When my residents moved off campus, many of them chose to live with one another. If you can survive in a dorm room with one another, living in an apartment should be no sweat.

But this whole luxury living thing just floors me. For one thing, it’s not setting up very realistic expectations for students once they enter the real world. Few students on getting their first job and moving into that first apartment will be able to find a place with granite counter tops, swimming pools, fire places and designer furniture that is affordable. And if they can find a place like that, hiring some one on top of that to clean the places and even do their laundry is a whole other expense and expectation. Secondly, luxury apartment-like dorms don’t promote community. That’s what I loved most about living in the dorms. Sure, I wanted to pull my hair out sometimes because of the loud music or when people trashed the elevators or lobbies, but I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything. It was hard enough to get community started in our halls because so many kids came for the same town, knew one another in high school and remained in their little social circles. I can’t imagine how difficult it would have been if everyone had their own rooms and bathrooms and never had any reason to come out and social with the rest of the “rooms.”

This is going to make me sound like a bitter senior citizen, and I realize I’m not that far distanced in age from this college population, but I think the youth of today (or at least the ones who can afford to live in luxury dorm rooms and pay people to move their stuff for them and arrive at school in an f-ing limo) have this sense of entitlement they feel they’ve earned simply because they exist.

Maybe it’s the way I was raised, but I feel like you should have to do at least a little bit for what you have in life. I know I certainly haven’t had it hard in my life in any extent, but I can do my own laundry, clean my apartment and do my own grocery shopping. I don’t consider those things to be the tough things about life. If, for whatever reason, laundry, cleaning and groceries are the biggest forms of adversity in your life you must face, well consider yourself the luckiest person on the whole planet, quit whining and remember to separate your colors from your whites; no one wants pink socks. And if someday you can afford to have someone else do all of that for you, great, fantastic, more power to you. If you have to do all those monotonous, mundane chores for yourself at some point in your life, something tells me you won’t be a worse person for it. If anything, you might actually gain something from it.

Thank you.

[gives bow, steps off of soap box, picks up soap box, remembers she has laundry in the washing machine, exits stage left]

The Best of What’s Around

2006-09-13T20:18:00.000-06:00

I love the Dave Matthews Band. You will hear no apologies from me about this, you cannot convince me otherwise. These guys just plain kick ass. I know there are plenty of skeptics out there; I realize some of you may think that DMB is just the group that filled the void for all those half-baked white guys who had nowhere to go or nothing to bob their heads to once Phish stopped touring. I realize that DMB’s fan base has been largely infiltrated by frat boys in their identical polo shirts (or “vintage” t-shirts), cargo shorts and baseball caps who raise their plastic cups of beer and chant “Daaaaaave, play What Would You Say!!!” I could care less about all that, I’ve loved this band since the 8th or 9th grade, and my kids will undoubtedly think I’m lame because I’m still listening “that one band.” I’m not a stoner or a frat boy, but this girl from small town America loves her some Dave Matthews Band.

Last night, after waiting since I was 14, I finally saw DMB in concert. Jenn, Phill and I tried to get tickets last year at one of their three shows at Red Rocks, but the tickets sold out in 11 minutes. We didn’t have a chance. This year, playing at a larger venue—The Pepsi Center—Jenn, Phil and I managed to get decent seats.

I won’t go on and on about this concert like I did the Paul McCartney concert, but I can’t end this post without saying a couple of things:

I now understand why people love to see these guys in concert. They are tight, one second they’ll be 10 minutes into a crazy jam (but still maintaining the integrity of the song) and in the span of a couple beats, if that, they’re back into the melody of the song, even if it includes switching time signatures or musical styles. They were completely together, 100% of the time. Amazing.
As a result of the previous statement, I now have to go buy every live CD they have released. Listening to the studio albums is no longer enough.
If one can rock out on a violin, Boyd Tinsley did it.
Watching Carter Beauford play the drums makes me wish I could play the drums, or at the very least, have half of his rhythm.
It’s amazing you can understand Dave Matthews when he sings, because you can hardly understand one word when he talks.
I’ve now heard my favorite song of all time played live. Yeah, I realize the song is about a peeping Tom, and I feel a little skeezy singing along to it, but the guitar combined with the violin, percussion and upright bass, I get goosebumps every time I hear it. I actually let out a squeal when they started to play it. Yeah, that’s right, I squealed.

Okay, so I think my brief recap ended up being just as long, or longer than the other post, but I’m done gushing about my one concert outing of the year, seriously. I’m done now.

You may return to your regularly scheduled program.

Something to Hang on My Fridge

2006-09-07T21:28:00.000-06:00

I’ve been published.

One of the pictures I took at the Dog Daze event a couple of weeks ago made it into the Highlands Ranch YourHub newspaper this week. Not only that, but the pictures are being put into rotation on the Highlands Ranch website as well.

I know it’s not a huge deal, but it is a kind of fun to see the pictures somewhere other than my computer or my blog.

What? No Lollipop?

2006-09-06T22:11:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, I did something I have never done as an adult. After over seven months of having health benefits, I actually went to the doctor.

My throat, and more specifically the glands under my chin and around my neck, have been a little sore and/or swollen for the last couple of months. I didn’t think much of it, and just ignored it, or I did until this weekend. While lounging around with Trout this weekend, somewhere between discussions about the possibility of killing polar bears with handguns and the award for best ass and facial stubble on a (supposedly) deserted island, the pain turned from occasional annoyance to constant discomfort.

Seeing that it was visibly bothering me, Trout suggested I go to the doctor when I got back to Denver. My initial thought was that I couldn’t go to the doctor because I wasn’t really sick. Sure, the thought had crossed my mind a couple times over the months when I realized that I still had swollen glands or a sore throat, but this was nothing major; just a minor nuisance that eventually went away, even if just for a short time. This was not a problem worthy of going to get looked at.

Growing up, we only went to the doctor if it was absolutely necessary. On top of that, the doctor I saw on a much more regular basis wasn’t my pediatrician, but my neurosurgeon. Going to the doctor today still makes me nervous. I think subconsciously, upon seeing the three year old magazines among the mauve and teal upholstered waiting room chairs, my body prepares itself for the worst, even though the worst rarely happened. I don’t like getting that knotted feeling in my stomach, I try to avoid that whenever possible. In short, visits to the doctor were for the serious stuff. Even if the thought of going crossed my mind over the last couple of months, I never seriously considered it. Sore throat? Drink some water and suck on some Vitamin C drops, and you’ll be just fine!

Back in the office on Tuesday, having been sidelined from doing any work due to lack of email and internet, I jumped into uncharted territory and made an appointment. Somehow I managed to not only get the doctor I wanted, but I got an appointment that morning. Now that everything is said and done, I have to say it really wasn’t too bad of an experience and I’m glad I went. For a minimal fee I was given peace of mind and a clean bill of health; just a slightly agitated throat due to allergens and other unhappy things in the air. It may have taken me many months to figure out this particular perk of the job, but now I know why they’re called benefits.

Except that whole unexpected tetanus shot I had to get, that wasn’t so cool. Since I now see a doctor of internal medicine and not a pediatrician, I didn’t get a lollipop (or even a cool band-aid) either. I guess it’s not always advantageous to be an adult.

PPA Falls

2006-09-05T22:38:00.000-06:00

Unfortunately, I didn't get a good picture of the actual Falls, the zoom on my camera just wasn't quite good enough to capture it.

The next time Trout and I take this hike, we're going to the top of the Falls and I'm swimming in that little pool in the top picture.

One Year

2006-09-05T22:28:00.000-06:00

A little over a year after we first met, Trout and I started dating. In a series of events that could (to quote Trout, and to which I will completely agree) comprise a novel, our friendship finally turned into a relationship over Labor Day Weekend 2005.

To celebrate this milestone, Trout and I spent the weekend relaxing in the 5400. We drank wine and ate yummy cheeses (who knew there was decent brie out there, and it’s even better with Mango chutney on it) with Trout's new coworkers, some friends and family, hiked up to some gorgeous waterfalls and pools (pictures will follow this post because, well, let’s face it, I like showing off pretty pictures), played cards with Trout’s step-brother and his wife (Chad, you’re going down next time; Trout lucked out for second place with that last hand) and got Trout good and addicted to Lost. It was a perfect mix of activity and laziness that I think both of us desperately needed.

This weekend’s activities were, quite possibility, the polar opposite of what happened last year. I could launch into a very long post on what exactly went on last Labor Day that made it so freakin’ amusing. But out of respect for some certain people who were at a certain party at a certain person’s house in a certain college town, I shall refrain. I will, however, say that the evening’s entertainment involved Boon’s Farm, homemade watermelon wine and someone everyone lovingly referred to as Mrs. Boogie. Good times!

Looking back at this weekend’s events and where I’m at now and how that compares to a year ago, it hardly even seems like my life. I am in such a better place now, I can’t even believe it. The biggest changes in my life have happened in the last 12 months, and Trout and that fateful weekend last September was just the beginning.

Happy Anniversary, honey!

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It's also worth noting this is my 100th post. Thanks for humoring me and sticking with this little venture of mine for so long. Your support and continued interest in my occasionally entertaining life is much appreciated.

The 5400 and My Philodendron

2006-08-31T17:50:00.000-06:00

Not that I've done a great job lately about updating, but I thought I'd mention that everyone will have wait for a new post until after the holiday weekend. I know, I know, you're all thoroughly disappointed, but Tuesday will be here before you know it.

I'm headed to the 5400 tomorrow afternoon to see Trout, where that other important date he alluded to will be fully celebrated. We haven't really figured out what exactly that celebrating will look like, but it does deal with some nice wine and smoke Gouda tomorrow night. Delicious.

Since Dirk asked, (and because I can't for the life of me remember what I was going to write about) I also thought I'd update everyone on the house plant situation. The Philodendron made the trek from the office to my apartment with me earlier this week. It's now sitting happily on my coffee table (re-potted by yours truly) where I hope it will receive the sunlight it needs while I am away. I'm crossing my fingers that it's still alive when I come home sometime Monday afternoon/evening. The spider plant also survived the trip and is happily sitting on my kitchen table in a little bowl of water until its roots are big enough for it to be put in a more permanent home. So far everything is still green and very much alive. It could be an entirely different story in another four days. Cross your fingers and knock on wood, I'll need all the help I can get.

Alright, I'm off to go watch the regulars at this great little Italian dive sing karaoke while I eat yummy spaghetti with homemade noodles. Happy Labor Day Weekend, everybody!

Tales From The Country

2006-08-29T21:27:00.000-06:00

I can’t even begin to tell you how nice it was to be home this weekend. As Rosellen, very accurately, pointed out, my roots in the city are not nearly as deep as they are in my home town/home state. It’s possible that will shift over time, but something tells me my heart will never be fully at home in the city.

But enough of the nostalgia, one of the most interesting things about my weekend was how it ended. Saturday evening was spent eating burgers, potato salad, triple chocolate chunk brownies and drinking $7 wine from plastic cups with old (and new) family friends. After everyone had left, Mom, Dad and I were dozing off when the phone rang. Growing up, the phone rarely rang past 9:15 unless there was a problem. The phone ringing at 9:45 on Saturday night proved to be no different. There was definitely a problem.

The cattle drive from Friday morning left some stragglers behind. The cows and their calves that didn’t make it down the mountain with the rest of the herd, made their way down the mountain on their own. Normally, gates are left open in connecting pastures so that the remaining cows and their kids…er…calves…can make their way home without having to walk down the highway. Sometimes too many gates are open, or the fence is easy to slip through and the traveling bovines still find their way onto the highway.

Perhaps you all can see where this is going. Unfortunately, one of the unsuspecting cows that made it onto the highway also made it into the path of an unsuspecting pickup. The phone call came from a neighbor who was headed home who came across the accident and was trying to figure out who the cow belonged to. The poor girl needed to be identified, moved from the road and any other loose stock had to be secured in someplace where they wouldn’t meet the same fate. Mom and I went with my Dad, partly to be there in case he needed any help, and partly because we figured it would be more eventful than sitting at home.

Roadkill is a common site in my homestate. Making our way home, Jenn, Phil and I all commented, at separate legs of the trip, the amount of little white tufts on the road. The rabbits have not had a good month. Deer on two separate occasions have ran into my car; whenever my Dad bought a new pickup, he would get a different, tougher grill guard to help salvage the vehicle if it were to have an unhappy encounters with the wildlife.

Thankfully, in my animal/automobile escapades, the animals lived and there was minimal damage to the car. While most people in my immediate family hit deer at least once a year (I should note this is not a reflection of poor driving, but when there are groups of deer that can number in the hundreds that like to hang out close to the highway, there’s really no avoiding the situation no matter how hard you try), grill guards and driving larger vehicles in general, leave damage to a minimal.

None of these scenarios was the case Saturday night. When a Ford F-150, driven by someone who probably had no idea there could be livestock anywhere in the vicinity of the road, is abruptly stopped by a 1200 pound animal, the pickup and the cow do not come out of the situation in good shape. The pickup’s front end was half of what it should have been, every fluid it contained running down the highway. The hood wasn’t just bent, it was rolled up. It may have just been my imagination, but I could have sworn the front of the pick up had an indentation roughly shaped like the side of a cow.

I don’t I need to elaborate what happened to the cow. Because of the time of night, and with limited resources, all that could be done was to make sure all the other cows and calves were fenced in somewhere and to move the bovine casualty off the side of the road. Mom and I watched my dad help the cow’s owner pull it off the road (with the help of a tow rope and a pickup). The whole situation was very strange, unlike anything I've previously experienced, and certianly not somoething I would ever see living in Denver. Sitting in our pickup with my Mom, hoping to lighten the mood, or at least break the silence, all I could say was “Well, that’s certainly something I didn't think I’d see this weekend.” In response, my Mom agreed and said suspected I would write about it here.

She was right. So here you have it, folks, asphalt laced hamburger. Delicious!

Live From the BH

2006-08-25T15:03:00.000-06:00

Finally deciding to dip into my PTO, I hitched a ride with Jenn and Phil to the BH this weekend. They are staying with Phil’s family in the nearby “city,” so this is the first time we’ve all been home at the same time (since they were married three years ago) that I get to sleep in what used to be my room (now the guest room). The top bunk in the other bedroom will remain un-slept in this trip. Finally!

Stepping out of the car last night, I’ve never been so glad to be home. Even though it’s a little smoky from forest fires, I’m still convinced it's cleaner than the city. I can see the stars again, there are more trees than houses; I’m looking out the window right now and I can’t see an inch of pavement. I woke up this morning, not to sound of car horns and sirens, but instead, to the sound of Sandhill Cranes. Normally this isn’t the most soothing sound in the world, but this morning, in combination with the 52 degree temperature, was in a word, heaven.

As I was getting dressed this morning, I could hear a lot of “mooing” in the distance. My parents’ house is about a quarter of a mile off the main road, and that much noise from cattle means only one thing: someone was moving cattle off the mountain and down the highway. I chuckled at myself when I realized that I would much rather get stuck in a traffic jam that involved live animals than other cars. At least the wranglers try to get the cattle to move out of your way. No such luck with automobiles.

The only thing that puts a damper on my time at home is the fact that I have to spend a good chunk of the day inside due to dilated pupils. Trips home usually mean at least two mandatory appointments: the eye doctor and hair dresser. Unfortunately, my hairdresser (the only person I trust to do anything major with my hair) is out of town this weekend (no short haircut for me), so I had to settle with just the eye doctor. Now I have pupils the size of saucers. Until they return to normal size and I can see up close again and can stop wearing the sunglasses, I’m enjoying the wireless internet and satellite TV at my parent’s house.

So, really I have nothing to complain about. I can still see the TV and computer screen, so even though I’m stuck inside for a bit, at least I have endless possibilities to keep me entertained.

As soon as my eyes are up to it, I’m taking a walk to go see my Dad at the shop across the highway (saying across the street implies it’s a block away, it’s really more like half a mile away). Until then, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch the end of a Project Runway rerun.

Frisbees and Puppies!

2006-08-22T20:59:00.000-06:00

No further explaination needed. I will say this, though: someday, the dog I have will not wear sweaters, or dresses or hats, but they will play frisbee. Oh yes, they will play frisbee.

Oooh La La

2006-08-22T20:57:00.000-06:00

A big ol' standard poodle with a big ol' French poodle haircut. Wow.

Awwwww

2006-08-22T20:55:00.000-06:00

I just thought this was a cute picutre. And yes, that dog is wearing a ballerina outift. With sequins.

Snoopy

2006-08-22T20:52:00.000-06:00

Snoopy won the best dressed dog contest. His owners were nice enough to take off the vest, hat, goggles and binoculars immediately after the contest was over.

Scooby

2006-08-22T20:49:00.000-06:00

Speaking of Great Danes, this is Scooby. He's so freakin' big, his back legs are as long as my legs.

Freeway

2006-08-22T20:44:00.000-06:00

Freeway was, by far and away, my favorite dog that I met at the event. He belongs to a lady who runs a Boxer rescue group. As a puppy, Freeway fell out of the back of his original owner's pickup and ended up losing his leg. I was lucky enough to watch Freeway while his owner set up her booth. Despite having 25% fewer legs than all the other dogs at the event, he was still able to pull me around like a 6 year old walking a Great Dane.

The Dog Daze of Summer: A Pictorial Presentation

2006-08-22T20:18:00.000-06:00

As promised, here are the pictures from this past Saturday. Even after cropping pictures to eliminate faces of the dog owners (I’m trying to be a conscientious blogger, and not post pictures of people who haven’t given me permission to do so), there’s still a fair amount of pictures of dogs dressed up like people. I’m not a huge fan of dogs in clothes, and the majority of the dogs at the event were not in costumes. There was a contest for best dressed dog, and it did make for a great photo op, so all of my faithful readers will have to endure pictures of dogs in people’s clothing.

Enjoy.

Dog Daze at The Ranch

2006-08-21T20:59:00.000-06:00

This weekend, I volunteered at Jenn's Dog Daze of Summer event for the Metro Districts of Highlands Ranch. I'm really tired from waking up at 4:30am to work part of a golf tournament today, so this post will be brief. More will follow when I have pictures to illustrate my adventures in the 'burbs.

I will say this though. Not only did I get to spend all of Saturday morning surrounded by dogs of all shapes and sizes, but I got to take pictures of all the dogs and their owners. Dogs and pictures, oh heck yes!

Stay tuned and good night, all. I have some sleep to catch up on.

My Not-So-Green Thumb: Part II

2006-08-17T20:16:00.000-06:00

Since the last time I tried my hand at a houseplant, I’m happy to announce that no other plants have withered and died in my care. I should also mention I haven’t allowed another plant in my apartment since the death of my primrose. Very impressive, I know.

I’m really hoping that, with my past planting experience, my second try at this is much more successful. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been growing some plants at work. Well, not so much growing a snipping off sprouts from other plants in the office and allowing the roots to form in a Styrofoam cup full of water on my desk. By next week the plants should be ready to…uh…plant. This weekend I’m headed down The Ranch again (this time to help volunteer at one of Jenn’s events. There will be dogs there; I couldn’t pass this one up). While I’m there, I’m going to buy some potting soil and one more flower pot so my plants will have a home.

With the upgrade from Styrofoam cup to pot with deliciously nutrient soil, I’m crossing my fingers that my plants will just be so happy with a change of scenery that they’ll thrive and have long and happy lives.

Wish me (and them) luck!

The Beginning

2006-08-15T21:57:00.000-06:00

Sometime last January, Trout had written a post on an old and now defunct blog about the day we first met. A month later, while sorting through boxes in my new apartment, I came across an old training schedule that included that date, and before chucking the calendar out, I made a little mental note of that particular day. As I unlocked my apartment door after work tonight, it dawned on me that today was more than just payday.

Exactly two years ago, Trout and I first met. He was the first person I saw and talked to when I arrived in the 7200 for my last year of school. He was working the front desk of the hall I would be working and living in, and he gave me the information I needed to get into my room. The conversation was brief and I ended up chatting with our boss (whose office was behind the desk where Trout was working) longer than I actually talked to Trout.

The whole getting-my-room-info-so-I-can-get-all-of-my-crap-out-of-my-car-and-into-my-room procedure was all very routine to me. I had done the exact same thing the two previous years and I couldn’t even tell you who I talked with at the desk either of those times. But for whatever reason (was my subconscious trying to clue me into something?), I can remember minute details about that conversation including Trout’s mannerisms and speech inflections. If I think hard enough, I could probably even tell you what he was wearing (that’s a nifty memory trick that seems to run in my family).

At the time, I saw nothing remarkable about that encounter. I would have never guessed something so “ordinary” would hold so much meaning to me and still be a topic of conversation (or blog post) two years later.

Crazy.

No Thanks, I’ll Just Read the Book Again

2006-08-14T21:21:00.000-06:00

I spent the weekend in The Ranch enjoying the finer things of life like cool basement hangouts and cable television. Jenn had an event this weekend and was unable to make the trip home to the BH with Phil, so we enjoyed our Saturday night without our significant others in the truest fashion: after enjoying some strip mall Chinese food, we curled up in our respective chairs and enjoyed HGTV, TLC and movies on the big screen TV.

After scrolling through all the On-Demand possibilities, we decided to watch Memoirs of a Geisha. Jenn read the book a couple years ago, and I finished reading it a couple of months ago. I like the book and the movie wasn’t all that bad either. I know there was plenty of talk and maybe even a little controversy because many of the actors in the film were Chinese, but it at least looked like the filmmakers were trying to keep the historical/cultural integrity of the book intact. Then again, what do I know…it all looked pretty and shiny to me.

Of course the movie wasn’t exactly the same as the book. I understand that screenwriters must pick and choose and change things to make books more appealing on the big screen. Despite the differences in the movies, I enjoy all the Harry Potter films and the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. I can fully understand why things were left out or changed. Even though I love all of these books and wouldn’t have minded seeing literal screen adaptations, no matter how long, I can at least respect the writers’ decisions (except maybe the slightly corny ending to Chamber of Secrets).

But seriously, people, do you have to change the endings entirely? I won’t give anything away, in case some of you want to see Geisha and may not know how it turns out. It’s not hugely different from the book, but they just kind of cut the story off to make it more of a Hollywood/romantic and happy ending. Another case in point: The Devil Wears Prada. I was really looking forward to the fireworks at the end, but they turned that all happy-go-lucky too, not to mention changing some major plotlines to accommodate it. I won’t even go see The Da Vinci Code. I love Audrey Tautou (don’t even start, Dirk), but Tom Hanks? Seriously? I don’t even want to go anywhere near a theater or the DVD aisle that it’s in. I cringe to think of what may have been altered, especially after reading the reviews.

To top it all off, I’ve now discovered that when I watch a movie based on a book I find myself thinking did that happen in the book? every time something semi-major occurs in the story. This doesn’t make the movie any more enjoyable for me. In fact, it just distracts from the whole thing. With this new revelation I’ve made a decision: if I’ve read the book (with the exception of my beloved Harry Potter), I won’t be watching the movie. If I want to watch the movie and read the book, I’ll watch the movie first. If a movie is good enough to make me want to read the book, I think I'll rarely finish the book feeling disappointed. I know it certainly wouldn't be the case the other way around.

The Road to [insert small town name here]

2006-08-12T14:57:00.000-06:00

While at work, I listen to my favorite radio station via their streaming audio on the internet. For eight or so hours a day, I enjoy the sounds of what they call “World Class Rock.” A mixture of 60s through today, they play everything from Depeche Mode to The Grateful Dead, Simon and Garfunkel to The Clash. To top it off, like many radio stations around the country, they have artists come play live in their studio. The Studio C recordings are top notch, people. Every year they release a CD of the year’s best sessions; only 30,000 are released and they always sell out within a few hours.

This past week they played all of their Studio C recordings in alphabetical order by song name. They started at 6:00am Monday morning and wrapped up late Friday afternoon. Yours truly listened to a good chunk of the songs and I found myself frequently turning my computer speakers up past a “reasonable volume” to enjoy those one-of-a-kind live versions of my favorite songs.

I don’t claim to have good tastes in music. It’s eclectic, limited and, at times, unadventurous. Seriously, I used to listen to New Kids on the Block and I still have a Lou Bega CD in my collection, I will judge no one on their musical tastes. To each his own, I say, even if it is Toby Keith or REO Speedwagon. Listening to Studio C recordings this week, it became apparent there were a fair number of artists or groups that played far more than others. One of those people was Lyle Lovett. I heard him at least once a day for the entire week. And listening to You Can’t Resist It, Private Conversation, and She’s No Lady (all of which are played on any normal day as well), not only reminded me how much I like Lyle Lovett, but it also brought back memories of Spring Break my junior year of college.

I’ve come to realize I don’t tell very many stories on this blog, and tend to just focus on the present, but I’m changing it up today. And yes, I realize it took me four paragraphs to get to the point of this post, but some people may have nothing to do today and might actually enjoy a long post.

Working as a live-in-staffer for three years of school, half of my spring breaks those years were spent working. The first year, my trip back to the 7200 to work was delayed because of a monstrous snowstorm that pummeled the area causing everything, including the university, to shut down for a couple days. My junior year, I took the second half off, hoping I wouldn’t get stranded in town when I had a chance to escape for a little vacation.

As luck would have it, the weather was perfect: sunny, crisp and clear. There would be no problems leaving town this time. One of my best friends from college (also a live-in-staffer) worked the same half of the break as me and we decided to take a little tour of our respective small hometowns for the remainder of the break; hers in the southeastern part of the state, mine in the north centralish region. We spent a couple of days in each place, as neither one of us had been to the other’s hometown before. We ate at the local dives, gave the 5 minute tour (because that’s all the time we needed), and just hung out. If it weren’t for the slight drama caused by the then-boyfriend, it would have been perfect, but I digress. Sure, it wasn’t tropical or wild and crazy, but it was my favorite college-spring break trip.

It was on this trip, during one of the many hours spent in the car, that I was first introduced to Lyle Lovett. Sarah had picked up some CDs she had left at home by accident, and those albums became the soundtrack for our trip from the CW to the BH. She was so excited to have found her Lyle Lovett CDs, and I didn’t really know what to expect. All I knew about Lyle Lovett (other than the general fact that he was a musician) was that he was once married Julia Roberts. Needless to say, with no real expectations, when Sarah put in The Road to Ensenada, I was completely surprised. He wasn’t country, rock or folk, but played with hints of jazz and blues…who was this guy and why hadn’t I been listening to him? Every song I hear by him, I like, a lot.

I very rarely buy CDs, my library is very small, and the music I do listen to, tends to be mix CDs, or albums I’ve ripped and burned from other people. One of these days, I’m not going to feel like I’m so tight on money and I might start frivolously shopping again. When I do, I will undoubtedly be beefing up my CD collection. And without a doubt I will be buying a lot of Lyle Lovett albums, among the random other CDs I should have owned years ago.

Until then, I’ll just keep turning up the radio every time one of his songs comes on the radio.

Air Conditioning, How I Miss Thee

2006-08-10T20:49:00.000-06:00

The air conditioner at work has been malfunctioning lately. This malfunction happens on such a regular basis, it’s created a new routine in my day. When it’s decided the AC is not working, I put in a call to our maintenance manager. Shortly thereafter, the AC repair guys comes in, asks me what the problem is (the air is working in the back of the building by not the front), he then goes up to the roof and works his magic. He then comes back inside to make sure (cool) air is once again coming out of the vents, and lets me know to call if it stops working again. By the end of the day, the AC decides it’s had enough, makes a loud, angry noise and then quits working. After the majority of the office concurs the AC has indeed shut off again, I put a call in to our maintenance manager and the process starts all over again.

This has gone on four times this week and several times last week. Yesterday afternoon, the AC decided it was tired of this routine and quit working altogether. That’s the conclusion we’ve come to anyway, because when the AC repair guy came in today, he came in to confirm we, once again had no AC, then said he would go check out the problem. This time, however, he never came back. Thankfully, the weather hasn’t been as hot as a couple weeks ago, so the situation could be much worse. The weather, however, is still in the mid 90s and the office is likely in the 80s.

Usually the AC makes the office cool enough to wear pants, long sleeve shirts and even jackets, on occasion. We are not used to the warmer weather. Today, our controller said “I’m going to the bank and when I’m done there, I’ll call to see if the AC is working.” I thought he was only half joking, but he never came back to work. We used every fan we could find to try and blow the cool air from the back to the rest of the building. Instead, all it did was blow around the existing hot air and all we could do to stay cool was to make frequent trips to the back of the building.

I can live without air conditioning at my apartment, the ceiling fans and the cooler nights are making it easier to cook and sleep. I can live with the fact that the air conditioner in my car is making angry noises because I rarely drive it. The fact I live without the AC in most aspects of my life means that I really do expect it to be cool at work. When it’s warm and uncomfortable in the office, all I want to do is curl up under my desk and take a nap. At least the water cooler dispenses chilled water.

Despite the heat, today was one of the better days that I’ve had at work in the last month. I’m still not sure if things are looking up for the long run, but hopefully, if the air conditioner is fixed tomorrow, it’s a sign of better things to come.

Joining the Cool Kids

2006-08-08T23:03:00.000-06:00

My younger sister, Abbey, has created her own little space in the blogosphere.

Everyone (all ten of you) should stop by and tell her hello.

Movin' On Up

2006-08-07T23:12:00.000-06:00

Since I’m almost positive that everyone who reads this blog also reads Trout’s (and if you don’t, you really should check it out…read the archives until he can update again, you won’t be disappointed), you all know that he moved this past weekend. And since I know that the readers of this blog are very smart people, you probably also guessed that I spent my weekend helping him move.

For the two years that I’ve known Trout, I’ve also known that the reason he came back to the 7200 (a Troutism that sounds so much cooler than L-town) for school was so that he could live and work in the state. It’s also safe to say that for almost as long, I’ve known he’s wanted to live and work in the 5600. So, when Trout was offered a job there, after the celebratory dinner and wine, the unofficial countdown began. When school or work became particularly annoying or unbearable, “only x number of months left” was repeated often. I don’t know how many times we exclaimed, “You’re moving to the 5600!”

This move has been a long time coming, and I couldn’t be happier for him. For two and half years, most of his belongings and anything that resembled a real life has been packed away in a storage unit or dispersed to friends’ houses. He’s lived in shoe box sized rooms, had to share a bathroom with 10 other guys, eaten cafeteria food, and literally lived at his job 24/7; no one deserves this move more than Trout.

This weekend a large group of people packed up his room and emptied his storage space into a moving van, a smaller group drove halfway across the state and then a new group of people unloaded everything into his new apartment. This weekend, glimpses of the Trout I’ve waited two years to see, finally appeared. He has furniture and dishes, cooking utensils, framed pictures and books...boxes and boxes of books. Of course I knew he had all of these things, I even saw some of them when we had to retrieve things from storage, but this weekend they emerged from their boxes and became part of his life again: his queen sized bed (as opposed to the crappy twin he’s been sleeping on for 2 ½ years), his pint glass from Murphy’s Pub, a picture of his Dad holding him as a newborn, and a big blue bunny named Lenny. It’s a Trout I didn’t know, but the more I find out, the better it gets.

After Jenn and Phil dropped me back off at my car in the 7200, I ended up hanging out with Trout’s best friend from high school and his family. Feeling a little mopey (because for some reason, to my frustration, that’s what happens when I have to leave Trout; I don’t want to leave all sad, yet it happens, every time), getting to spend the afternoon with people who’ve known him for such a long time helped me to shift my frame of mind from “poor me” to “I’m so lucky.”

Above all, despite how much I don’t like living 5 hours away from Trout, I feel incredibly fortunate. Not only am I in a wonderful relationship, but Trout is finally where he wants to be.

Congratulations, baby. I can’t say it enough; I’m so happy for you.

Praise Jebus!

2006-08-01T20:22:00.000-06:00

The reprieve we had from the heat wave was short lived. The cool temperatures that graced the beginning of the last week were nowhere to be seen in a few days time and the triple digits where back just in time for the weekend.

Upon the insistence of Trout’s friend Dave, Trout and I made one last trip before his big move to the 5600. Retreating to cooler climates, we spent the weekend in Steamboat Springs and Winter Park. Here are the highlights:

I finally made it to Steamboat. It’s taken since October, but Trout and I got there at the same time. And I finally got to meet Jenn (Dave’s lovely wife).
Also got to meet the famous Sadie-dog and Marley. Oh how I wish I could have a dog.
I got the best sleep I’ve had in at least a month. It was dark and quiet and even when I woke up briefly in the mornings, my mind didn’t turn on and start thinking a million miles a minute.
Got to hang out in a dive of a bar in Winter Park and listen to Jebus (the band Dave sings and plays guitar for). Give me a dive bar over some swanky lounge any day. The drinks are much more affordable.
Went (car) camping for the first time in years. I have a looong way to go before I’m equipped and experienced enough to be an outdoorsy person, but I’ll get there. Not only was I cold for the first time in months (and was actually happy about it), but I saw the moon, stars and Milky Way; I really, really miss that living in the city. Hooray for camping!
Overall, I was just incredibly thankful to escape the city and enjoy something a little more slow paced, quiet and cooler. I was never more thankful for the weekend than on my trip home when I got stuck in traffic on I-70, 50 miles outside of Denver. Yes, that’s right, stuck in traffic for an hour, in 90+ degree heat, on the interstate. Apparently half the city had the same idea to escape the heat as I did.

This weekend helped me realize that while the city is fun and exciting and unlike any other thing I’ve done thus far in my short, fairly simple life, it’s not a permanent thing. I need nights that are dark, quiet and star gaze-able. When the temperature climbs, I don’t want it to be intensified by miles of asphalt, concrete and car exhaust. When I’m driving down the interstate I want to be able to go the speed limit, not 55 miles below it.

Call it cliché, but you can take the girl out of the country, but I guess you can’t take the country out of the girl.

Puppy Dog

2006-07-31T20:26:00.000-06:00

My family's dog, Harely. Harley and all the dogs I got to hang out with this weekend (especially Sadie and Marley) really made me wish my living situation could accomdate a dog. Even though I like cats, it's safe to say I'm definitely a dog person.

Blocked

2006-07-31T20:12:00.000-06:00

I can't write.

Complete and total writer's block.

I have plenty of things to write about; I had a great time in Steamboat Springs and Winter Park this weekend, but the sentences just aren't living up to my expectations. I could vent about work, but that would be counter productive in my attempt to find a zen-like peace with my occupational frustrations.

So for now, until this goes away, I will be posting random pictures.

Enjoy and let's hope I find inspiration to write before I run out of pictures.

[Untitled]

2006-07-25T21:41:00.000-06:00

Sunday night I had all of these ideas floating around in my head about posts I could possibly write. Because I had already posted that day, I decided to wait and spread them out over the rest of the week. For once I wasn’t going to have to think about what I wanted to write about.

Monday started out well…as silly as it sounds, I really did want to write about the Goo Goo Cluster discovery. I don’t get out much, people; ice cream flavors are a big deal to me. The problem is, I really can’t remember any of the other so called “great” ideas I was going to cover.

On Sunday night, after watching a special on NBC with Tom Brokaw called Separate and Unequal, I felt compelled to write about the subject matter covered over that hour. The problem is, there are so many facets to the socio-economic/racial divide in America, I don’t even know where to begin or how to address it in a deserving light. I see this divide every day at work. Over the last 7 months I’ve become very aware of the problems this country faces, but few people are actually addressing. Despite seeing it firsthand, I still feel too inexperienced and uneducated to write a worthy post. Give me another six months and you might see me on my soapbox. Stay tuned.

And after that, I really have no idea what I wanted to write about. Even though the heat is subsiding just a smidge and the evening thunderstorms make my apartment a little more livable (and sleep-able), I still wake up most mornings feeling exhausted, even after 8 hours of sleep. I will blame my inability to remember simple things like what I was going to post about or what I was going to tell Trout during our nightly phone conversations, on a lack of quality sleep.

Thankfully, tonight is the coolest it’s been in weeks, so I’m hoping with all of my windows wide open, I may actually be able to sleep with covers. That would be a welcomed change. Hopefully it helps me upgrade my appearance from walking zombie to sleep deprived. I can only hope.

Hello, My Old Friend

2006-07-24T19:52:00.001-06:00

Yesterday was a very lazy day for me. So lazy, I somehow managed to forget that I could go running once the weather cooled off. Apparently it isn’t quite routine yet. This welcomed lack of activity made it very hard for me to get motivated to do anything, especially going grocery shopping.

Oh but I’m so glad that I did. Not only had I run out of staple foods like bread and orange juice, but the more fun food items were also missing from my kitchen. I’m trying to cut back on the unhealthy snacky foods and beef up my fridge with more fruits and vegetables. However, no matter how healthy I eat I will always, always, always have to have ice cream in my freezer. So as I strolled down the frozen food section, I was absolutely delighted by two things. Not only was ice cream on sale, but great googley-moogley, they had Goo Goo Cluster.

Not only is Goo Goo Cluster one of my favorite ice creams of all time (tied only with Cold Stone’s Founder’s Favorite), but I haven’t seen it anywhere in years. I probably haven’t enjoyed a big heaping bowl of the GGC since I was in high school. I thought they (whoever “they” might be) had just stopped making it.

Taking that first bite last night, it was just as good as I remembered. Chocolate ice cream with a touch of marshmallow (not to be confused with Rocky Road, GGC has creamy, puffy marshmallow flavored ice cream, not actual marshmallows) mixed with caramel and chocolate covered peanuts; heaven in a bowl that you can eat with a spoon.

In case the founders of GGC had indeed stopped making it and decided to try running it again, I need to ask my readership a favor. Could you all go out and buy a carton (or two) as to help ensure that is sticks around for a while. You can buy it at Safeway.

Thanks in advance, you won’t regret it. And if you don’t like it, well pack that puppy with dry ice and send it my way.

2006-07-23T12:52:00.000-06:00

The coup de gras: the banner. They didn't leave this one up either. Go figure.

2006-07-23T12:49:00.000-06:00

Washing machine. There was also one on the dryer door, ironing board and in the dust pan.

2006-07-23T12:48:00.000-06:00

The sugar canister before and after.

2006-07-23T12:44:00.000-06:00

A little, fuzzy, but it should be noted that the picture normally in this frame is of Jenn and Phil's cat Rocky, as a kitten. The wording below the picutre is "meow." Needless to say, when they found this one, they put Rocky's picutre back right away.

2006-07-23T12:40:00.000-06:00

This was the first card they found. At this point they thought it was the only card we hid. They've never been the victims of a prank, but I guarantee they'll be more suspicous next time.

A Picture is Worth...

2006-07-23T12:30:00.000-06:00

I have nothing going on today, I feel like posting, yet I have nothing really post-worthy to write today. So instead of writing, I have decided to post some pictures.

A while back, Trout wrote about a little prank that we played on my former landlords. Since Trout was unable to make it down to help me place all the cards, I took pictures for him. I didn't take picutres of all the cards (my camera's memory card isn't that big), but I did want to capture the more clever and diabolical places. Since Jenn and Phil have only found roughly 30 of the 50 cards hidden around their house, I will only post pictures of the ones I know they've found.

Enjoy!

How Cool is This?

2006-07-23T09:57:00.000-06:00

A geek out moment, brought to you by CNN.com.

Don’t Stop Believin’

2006-07-20T20:59:00.000-06:00

I mentioned in my last post that a part of me wishes I could sing. It’s not that I can’t sing at all; my senior year of high school, I was an alto in the choir and I can carry a tune without too much difficulty. That little part of me that wishes I had a killer voice, however, is the same little slice that also loves karaoke.

When I lived down in The Ranch with Jenn and Phil, I had a decent amount of exposure to karaoke. Phil had Karaoke Revolution (from the makers of Dance Dance Revolution) for his PlayStation, and much to Jenn’s chagrin, Phil and I played that game, and sometimes we’d even play it during parties or when other friends came over. Next to some of Phil’s perfect scores, I’m at least in the top 5 with my rendition of Britney Spears’ Hit Me Baby (One More Time).

However, despite all the at-home-fun, we didn’t venture out to share our singing with the rest of the world very often. While I was living in The Ranch, Jenn, Phil and I went to a karaoke bar just once. Even though that was over a year ago, I will forever be reminded of that night every time I hear Welcome to the Jungle, Tiny Dancer, Total Eclipse of the Heart and It’s the End of the World As We Know It. By the third or fourth song, everyone was singing along with the person on stage. It was entertaining whether or not the person singing was actually good. And even if they weren’t, it didn’t matter, they got cheers no matter the performance.

And that’s the great thing about karaoke. You don’t have to be good, you can make a total fool of yourself and no one cares. That was the reasoning I told myself when, most recently, I found myself at a karaoke bar. A large group of us went to this little Mexican dive to sing karaoke a couple of weeks ago. I was still trying to distract myself from the previous week, and after a gin and tonic (yes, folks, I know that’s not the way to cope or distract oneself), I sang a duet with Phil’s younger sister (Bohemian Rhapsody), I was the only one besides Julse, who knew all the words. Oddly enough, I also sang that song at my high school graduation party with a group of guys because I was the only one who knew all the lyrics. Apparently, it’s my karaoke song.

After a successful performance that even got the DJ to turn on the disco ball and multi-colored stage lights, I decided to go a step further and sing a song on my own. So after another gin and tonic, and thumbing through the song catalog a couple of times, I finally found the perfect song: Punk Rock Girl by the Dead Milkmen. Okay, so not many people were going to know (and hence, be able to sing along with) an obscure punk song from (as corrected by Trout) the mid 80s, but it wasn’t a pretty sounding song either. There wasn’t much of a tune, and some of it was spoken more than sung. It wasn't supposed to sound good and people wouldn't know if I butchered it anyway; perfect. After waiting through the next round of songs and continually stealing Phil’s mug of beer, as to not lose my nerve, I finally took the stage.

It was pretty terrible. The table I was with was very supportive, but I think they were just humoring me. I think I nailed the talking/singing parts more than the singing parts, but I didn’t care too much. By that time in the night, I was warm and fuzzy enough to think that, after hearing it performed, Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’ was, quite possibly the most quintessential karaoke song of all time, I kid you not. Besides, after the terrible rendition of La Bamba, a dead-on Cartman impression through In the Ghetto, and Phil and Julse’s Baby Got Back, no one was going to remember my song one way or another.

I don’t think I’ll ever take up singing lessons, but I will undoubtedly still be singing along to my radio in my car, or in my apartment at the top of my lungs not caring if anyone else is listening. Besides, I’m not that bad.

A Guilty Pleasure

2006-07-19T20:10:00.000-06:00

I went to happy hour at the usual hangout with Rebecca last night and we decided that despite everything we’re doing to get back to normal this week, we will never fully get over what happened. The best we can do is to get up and move on as best we can. With that being established, tonight’s post will be nothing but shallow and frivolous. Another way to move up and onward.

There’s this show…on FOX…a reality show…a competition show where America votes for their favorite competitor…I…can’t…stop…watching…it.

No, it’s not American Idol.

Let’s call it American Idol’s less-popular little sister. Mistaken for its wider known sibling, it dreams of being friends with the cool kids someday. But alas, it’s been thrown into the slums of summer reality TV, and it just may never reach Idol primetime status. But I love it none-the-less.

Oh yes, that’s right folks, I love me some So You Think You Can Dance?

I think, somewhere deep inside my psyche, the little girl who wanted to be a ballerina never died. The funny thing is, I never wanted to be a ballerina when I was a little girl. Yet, for some reason, I watch these people on this show and wish I could do all the dances they’re performing. Okay, I take that last statement back; I wish I could do everything but contemporary. Anything contemporary in the fine arts realm holds no appeal to me…but that’s a diatribe for a whole other post.

Where was I? Oh, yes…I wish I could dance. And not just going out on the dance floor and being able to move around to the beat without looking too much like a fool. I can do that just fine, thank you very much. I mean I wish I could waltz or tango, swing, dance around like a maniac to Broadway music (which also brings up a wish that I could actually sing…but I digress once again), tap, or even be able to do a little hip-hop (alas there’s no junk in the trunk to make that one happen).

This little voice in my head tells me I could be capable of doing it, but I have no means to find a way to prove that to myself. So, for now I will live vicariously through second-class summer reality TV. And when I’ve had my fill of dance, I can continue my first reality TV guilty pleasure…America’s Next Top Model. The only difference there is that I have no want or any ambition to take up modeling as a hobby.

You can all breathe a sigh of relief.

My Return

2006-07-17T22:13:00.000-06:00

Two weeks ago, Trout and I were enjoying a beer at a local bar, looking forward to a 4th of July full of soccer and fireworks. My mini-vacation was a much needed break from the disappointment from the previous week. Before Trout left on the morning of the 5th, he told me, reassuringly (because I was a little mopey), “don’t worry, I’ll see you in a week and a half, that’s nothing.”

A little over 24 hours later, work was turned upside down and time became irrelevant. Since then, the weeks have crawled by and have simultaneously been a blur. It took me a week before I finally started returning to my normal routine. Very slowly the haze of shock and disbelief began to lift and I was able to do simple, everyday tasks again: pick up my clothes, wash dishes, do laundry, cook dinner. Doing these things felt therapeutically normal and oddly foreign all at the same time. I felt human again, but significantly changed in a way I never imagined.

This past weekend, I went to L-town for a friend’s wedding. When I finally saw Trout, I couldn’t believe it had only been a week and a half since the fireworks and festivities. This has, quite possibly, been the longest 10 days of my life. As with regaining my daily routine, it felt therapeutic and foreign to be out amongst people who weren’t engrossed in the same situation where I had spent so much time.

Now that I’m back home, things continue to improve. The only thing I’m not doing is running. As beneficial as that would be, the recent heat wave makes it very hard to want to run. When it’s still 90 degrees at 10:00pm, and living in an apartment with no AC, running is the last thing I want to do.

Little, random things still bring back memories and every once in a while, I still can’t believe what has happened. I think I will always have moments where I can’t believe the previous week’s events are a part of my life. On the other hand, I’d be more worried if those thoughts became so routine it never bothered me.

An Update

2006-07-09T13:00:00.000-06:00

As to not disappoint all 10 or so of my loyal readers, I feel the need to at least let you know I’m amongst the living.

After what could quite possibly be described as the longest and worst week ever (despite it only being a three day work week), I have retreated to the sanctuary of the suburbs. It’s been a tough couple of days, folks, and this coming week doesn’t promise to be any easier. All the problems of the previous weeks pale and are petty in comparison to what has happened this week. Recent events have simultaneously made me want to give up on the world and have left me strangely driven to continue to try and change/help improve my little corner of the world. I won’t go into any more details; this is neither the venue, nor do I have the energy to re-hash everything again. Most of you know enough to know what I’m talking about, anyway. For those of you who don’t, consider yourself lucky.

Staying in my PJs until 2:00pm, playing lots of Mario Kart, eating a lot of comfort food, watching hours of shallow-happy television, movies, and doing a little retail therapy have helped far more than I would have thought. Never underestimate the power of keeping your mind distracted. Tonight the distraction continues when a group of us (to belatedly celebrate Phil’s birthday) head into (or return to) the city to sing our hearts out at a karaoke bar.

Thanks to my friends and family for all their support this week, it is appreciated far more than you will ever know. I love you all and I wouldn’t have been able to keep my sanity if it wasn’t for you.

Motivation

2006-07-05T22:09:00.000-06:00

I’m sitting in my living room tonight, trying not to be too mopey because I’m now on the other side of my long and crazy fun weekend. As much as I want to chronicle everything that happened this weekend (because a lot happened for this socially deprived girl), I feel like this blog is becoming a bit monotonous. I don’t want it to become an “I did this, then I did this, and this and this” kind of thing. If I could get away with that, I would, I’m not a good enough writer to make that interesting all the time. If anything, I’ll post some of the pictures from this weekend so you all have some of idea of what went on.

In case any of you are going to hold me accountable for the things I say in this blog, I thought I would update you on my running. Yes, all you doubters out there, I am actually still running. I’ve even upped my distance slightly and don’t feel like I’m going to die nearly as early in my routine. I guess that’s what the professionals call “progress.”

The strange thing about this whole situation is what motivates me the most every evening. It’s true that I find it to be a good stress relief after work, which after last week and the weeks to come, is greatly needed. However, I’ve discovered that the main reason why a routine has been easier to create than I originally thought is, sheer boredom. Okay, so maybe boredom is too strong a word. Very rarely am I ever bored. Even though my social life may not be the most exciting thing in the world, I can usually find something to do.

Running has, on the other hand, given me another hobby. When I feel a bit restless, or I’m not sure what to do next, I now have another option. It gives me a reason to get out of my apartment and out amongst the living. Despite the ways I’ve found to spend my time, I realized I was missing a little of that; I live in this great neighborhood and I was missing out. I would have never guessed it would turn into something I could even classify as anything, let alone a “hobby,” but there you have it. Whatever works; I’ll take it!

Grown Up

2006-07-03T09:05:00.000-06:00

I have graduated from college. I have a great job with decent pay, great benefits and paid vacation. I live by myself in a one bedroom apartment that I have almost decorated to my liking. I am in a stable, fantastic relationship with a wonderful man. Occasionally, I even socialize with coworkers, family or friends on the weekends or after work.

All of these statements somehow have combined to make me an adult, a concept I am still having a hard time comprehending. I don’t feel like an adult. I see other people my age (or close to) everyday and I still don’t feel like I can relate to them, they seem older than me, more mature or more put together somehow. This isn’t a slam on myself or anything like that, there’s just some sort of disconnect between how I see my life and how I see my peers’ lives.

I don’t think I’ve spent my life with this romantic vision of adulthood, and have somehow become disappointed when living it isn’t as glamorous as I had imagined when I was a kid. But maybe that is my problem; I could never relate to the adult world entirely because I never was an adult, and so these romantic notions somehow crawled into my head, and now that I’m here, I realize that it’s just my life. “Just my life” is a very good thing, folks, please don’t take that last statement the wrong way; I have never been happier.

When I was younger, I always had a hard time imagining what it would be like to be older. When I was six, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be 12, when I was twelve, it was hard to see myself at 18. And unremarkably, every year I would become an age I once had a hard time picturing. For awhile I had a hard time grasping what it would be like to have my own place, support myself, and ultimately just be on my own. But somehow, it just happened and now here I am.

Yesterday morning Jenn, Phil, my Mom and Dad came over for brunch. It was the first time I prepared a meal for more than one other person (besides myself). Okay, sure there wasn’t much cooking involved. I cooked some bacon and my Mom helped me with the scrambled eggs. The rest involved cutting up a lot of fruit and mixing the orange juice, setting the table etc, etc. It was really nice to have (almost) the entire family together. I acquired an iron bench from an evicted apartment in the building (with permission from my landlord, of course), which fit nicely in my kitchen and gave everyone a place to sit. I’ve had countless breakfasts with my family, but this was the first time everyone came to my place. Best of all, I didn’t feel a disconnect, making breakfast in my own apartment for my family felt like my life.

Slowly, but surely I’m actually beginning to realize that I’m an adult, not just some 23 year-old who stumbled upon this life by accident.

It’s About Friggin’ Time

2006-06-30T20:48:00.000-06:00

Friday. It’s finally here. Not only is it Friday, but it’s also the beginning of a four day weekend. As the week slowly progressed, it managed to improve just a little bit everyday. And no matter how much the week improved, considering how it started, I'm just really glad it's not Monday anymore.

My delayed future boss and I went out for margaritas on Thursday night. We eventually ended up at the Italian dive across the street watching what can only be described as Chicano American Idol. The neighborhood is largely Mexican-Italian, and every Thursday karaoke is king. From what my boss told me, the same group of people sings every week. These people have their songs mastered; they sing their bad songs very well. Between the yummy drinks, and the Neil Diamond crooners, the edge from the week almost completely dissolved away. It was a good thing I didn’t have more to drink, otherwise, when one of the regulars started singing Poetry in Motion, I would have lost it like I did that night at the bar in the 5600.

My half day went by extremely quickly and surprisingly smooth. The workshops are slowly getting back on track, and hopefully by next week’s session, things will be where we want them to be. My parents, Jenn and Phil showed up a little after noon and we went to the Body Worlds 2 exhibit at the Nature and Science Museum. The exhibit itself was amazing. Being able to see the body in such a raw and naked form really makes you realize how simultaneously durable and fragile the human body is. Unfortunately, the exhibit (a traveling special feature), despite having been in Denver since the beginning of March, is still extremely popular. The space was packed with people almost from start to finish. The exhibit was laid out extremely well and despite all the people, it was still easy to maneuver around and see everything.

And despite the excellent end to me week, I’m glad to be enjoying the peace and quiet of my own apartment. Tomorrow I’m headed back to the ‘burbs to celebrate Phil’s birthday. Everyone will be back out at my place on Sunday for brunch (it will be the first time I’ve cooked for more than one person) and Trout rolls into town on Monday for the soccer game and fireworks on Tuesday. It is going to be a very good mini-vacation, so good I just may forget all about my week of Mondays.

Yep, You Guessed It

2006-06-28T23:31:00.000-06:00

It was decided by a majority of my coworkers that today was indeed another Monday. It may have been upgraded to more of a Monday afternoon (still Monday, but with an end the crapiness in sight), but the fact remains it was still a Monday. Because of today’s events, tomorrow will be hectic (translation: possible Monday) and because I’m only working half of Friday that too will cause much chaos (translation: possible Monday). At least there’s a four day weekend coming up, and we all need this one.

Several things happened today as the result of one event. Some of these outcomes are positive, others, well they just plain suck, for lack of a more eloquent word. My mood has balanced itself out, so the drama of this week is slowly subsiding and I am able to accept it with a better attitude. With that being said, do you want the bad news or the good news first?

Let’s start with good news, shall we? Okay.

Good thing #1: I get my own office, again.

Good thing #2: Dirk, we no longer have to compete to see who has the more annoying coworkers/officemate. It’s all you, buddy.

So with the good things out of the way, you may have been able to figure out that, yes, my officemate is longer my officemate. This means two not so good things...

Bad thing #1: My officemate’s position will not be filled anytime soon, so I have to take over the Summer Workshops. I should also mention the kids who are attending these workshops are out of control because my officemate didn’t know how to manage them. At all. Now it’s my problem.

Bad thing #2: My promotion has been delayed and there is no real idea when it is actually going to happen now. I’m going to try and help with fundraising as much as possible, but with all the admin and accounting stuff I have to do on top of it, it won’t be nearly as extensive as I want. In essence, I’m back to where I was two months ago.

I’m really trying to keep a good attitude about this, I really am, but there’s only one thing that keeps running through my head right now.

Is it Friday yet?

Yep, It’s Still Monday

2006-06-27T19:15:00.000-06:00

I realize that universally, very few people in the world actually enjoy Mondays. Perhaps this is unfair, maybe Mondays have even acquired a bad reputation by accident. However, the sad truth is, most generalizations are rooted in some bit of truth. No matter how much Monday tries, not matter what he does to try to win people over, he will inevitably still be hated and dreaded by millions each and every week.

Particularly bad days at YB are considered Mondays. You could consider it a spin off of the classic Office Space line “Uh, oh. Looks like someone has a case of the Mon-days.” There was a really bad week a month or so back that we still refer to as “The week of Mondays.”

Yesterday was an okay Monday. Yeah, I was exhausted by the time I got home and had to get up extra early, but I was able to spend it outside and didn’t have to really do anything. Today, however was quite possibly the worst Monday I’ve ever had. Not only was I (and most of the staff, for that matter) still worn out from yesterday, but I was just in a terrible mood. Everything was just flat out pissing me off. Internet not working…pissed me off. People not wanting to leave voicemail messages so they called me back to leave message for various people around the office…pissed me off. 80 kids with unending amounts of energy…pissed me off. Feeling unenthusiastic about my moves in Warfish…pissed me off. My officemate…pissed me off.

An issue arose at work today (which was actually the cause of some conflict last week as well) that could inevitably affect my job in some substantial ways. I won’t go into any details until tomorrow, because by tomorrow at this time, I’ll have a better idea of what is going on, and so will everyone else around the office. But needless to say, what I was told about this arising situation turned this already emerging Monday into a full-fledged kick-me-in-the-ass Monday. Oh yes, folks, at this rate, I may get to experience another week of Mondays. At least my week will end a little earlier than usual this time around.

Hopefully.

It's Only Monday

2006-06-26T19:37:00.000-06:00

My week started at 5:00am this morning. I spent the day sitting at the ninth hole of a swanky golf course with one of our interns from work while semi-celebrities played in a charity golf tournament. Every year, YB provides the volunteer staff for this tournament and in return, a majority of the proceeds are given to us. Last year at about this time, I was given temporary, fulltime work at my previous employer to help plan their charity golf tournament. This year, all we had to do was show up. This is definitely the way to go.

Even though the most physical activity I did all day involved helping measure the longest putts of Broncos football players, newscasters, newspaper columnists and other people I should probably know, but don’t, I’m completely spent. Despite the sunscreen, sunglasses, hat, water, and umbrella, I still feel cooked. The thought of getting up tomorrow, running and then going to work sounds exhausting. I feel like a huge wimp.

On a much lighter note, while my week started earlier than usual, it will also end a little earlier and my weekend will last a little longer as well. My parents are coming into town on Thursday night. Jenn and Phil are taking them to Tom’s Home Cookin’ on Friday, and then we’re all off to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science to see the Body Worlds 2 exhibit. Since the 4th falls on a Tuesday, I also get a four day weekend. Trout is going to be down for part of my mini-vacation, and we’re going to celebrate our nation’s birthday by going to a Colorado Rapids Game and fireworks show with Phil (Jenn, unfortunately, has to work all day on the 4th, I wish you could come with us!).

I’m not sure what I’m doing in between the museum and the soccer game, it could involve watching a lot of World Cup (at Jenn and Phil’s or at the pub down the street), cooking my parents dinner at my apartment, or just a whole lotta nothing. I’m fine with any (or all) of them. For the time being, I think I’m just going to veg on the couch and watch the replay of the Italy/Australia game on Univision because American network television is bothering me tonight for some reason. Soccer’s more fun to watch in Spanish sometimes, anyway. ¡Que divertido!

The Adventures of Louie

2006-06-24T14:40:00.000-06:00

I had a rather nostalgic moment during my commute to the suburbs yesterday afternoon. The heat and the traffic were finally getting to me as I approached the turn onto Santa Fe Drive when, the black car that had been following me down Broadway for the last couple of miles, pulled up beside me into the turning lane. The name and logo of the long horn steer on the side of the car immediately caught my attention: it was a Maverick.

My very first car was a red, 1970 Ford Maverick. My parents originally bought the car for Jenn for Christmas when she turned 16. Even though it was technically Jenn’s car, it was understood that the car would be passed on to Abbey and me when we too became old enough to drive. In quintessential small town fashion, my parents had purchased it from a man whose daughter I was an Oompa-Loompa with in summer theater years before. He was the second owner of the car and we were the third. The original and only other owner of the car was a man by the name of Louie (someone who my parents were also familiar with). Louie had taken very good care of his car and obviously took great pride in it. The body was in great shape, the interior also in great condition and the dash cover (that matched the maroon interior of the car) even had "Louie" embroidered into it in fancy script.

Built like a tank, it was the perfect high school car. Sure, it had its quirks (Trout, you think my car now has issues, you should have met Louie), but looking back I really did love that car. The gas gauge only registered to half full, and as a result, I had to calculate gas mileage to figure out when I needed to fill the tank. The car took leaded gas and within the first couple months that we owned the car (before I was driving) leaded gas was discontinued. Every once in a while we had to put additive in the gas tank to make up for this. The seat belts were primatively adjustable. The lap and shoulder belts each buckled in the middle and could be adjusted very minimally for a person’s size . The passenger side barely adjusted and left little room for that seat’s occupant to move. Oil had to be added every two or three weeks, brake fluid about every two months. There was no passenger side mirror, the car just didn’t come with one. We eventually replaced the AM radio with an AM/FM tuner and tape player (major upgrade), but on really cold days, the tape player was slow and cold. The Dixie Chicks and Sarah McLachlan were baritones or basses until the car warmed up.

There was an art to starting the car. It involved reaching through the gi-normous steering wheeling, pulling back slightly on the gear shift, turning the key and pumping the accelerator (no fuel injection on that car!). Abbey never could get the whole process figured out (and was one of the reasons she drove the car the least out of all three of us). For awhile, the passenger side door automatically locked, and I think before we fixed that problem, for some reason the driver side door wouldn’t open from the outside. This problem was quickly fixed, but I’m pretty sure there was a week or two when everyone had to climb in through the passenger side door. Say it with me, people…Class-y!

The body of the car took some hits while it was in our possession. During my year and a half stint as a waitress at Ole’s Pizza and Spaghetti House, one of my fellow employees backed into my car and then was nice enough to drive off and not let me know it was hit. I still remember heading out to my car around midnight, after a particularly long shift, smelling of fried foods, pizza and salad dressing, seeing a very large dent in my car, just in front of the driver’s side door, promptly turning around, walking back into the kitchen, completely livid, and saying to the remaining cooks and my boss who were still cleaning up (avert your eyes, Mom and Dad), “Who the fuck hit my car?!?” It was one of the only times I dropped the f-bomb at work, and certainly the only time I did so in front of my boss. The large dent only allowed the driver’s side door to open about a quarter of what it used to. Eventually, the dent was beaten out by my Dad with the help of some 2X4s and a rubber mallet.

In order to avoid plowing through a line of a Mother duck and her babies, I hit the brakes a little too hard on a dirt road, over corrected and ran through a barbed wire fence…an interesting spiraling design ended up on the hood from the wire. No ducks were hurt and the fence was repaired.

In high school, Abbey and I played in our community college’s band and had to attend rehearsals every Wednesday night during the school year. On two, count them two, different occasions, on the way to practice, a large buck deer came barreling out from the shoulders of the highway (one from the passenger side, on from the driver side) and actually hit the car. I kid you not, we did not hit the deer, they hit us. Thankfully, both times the deer lived and the car only suffered minor scratches.

The car took us to proms and school dances, parties, jobs, graduations, school functions, to the lake (but never the mountains) and weekends with friends. Sure, the car rarely went outside a thirty mile radius from home, but we somehow managed to put 30,000 more miles onto it. However, perhaps the greatest story I have about the car is Louie’s last adventure.

During the summer before my sophomore year of college and having spent my entire freshman year without a car (Louie just wouldn’t have made the 4 ½ hour trek to L-town and back), I knew I needed a car. By the middle of the summer, after spending a day in Billings car shopping, I had a new (to me) car. Abbey didn’t like driving Louie, and we had both been sharing my Dad’s old F-150 to get around. Sadly, Louie’s use had run its course and we couldn’t have five cars sitting in our driveway. I worked at the front desk of the Best Western that summer, a job that has led me to despise hotels, but that a subject for a whole other post. Because very few local high school or college age students want to spend their summers cleaning hotel rooms, the hotel hired international students every summer to work as housekeepers. This particular summer we had a group of Turkish guys working at the hotel. They had international driver’s licenses, could obtain insurance, but had no car. Well, I had an answer to their problem. For a very small amount of money, the four pooled their paychecks and bought Louie from us. I left for college soon after that, and upon my first couple of trips home people I would see around town would ask if I had sold my car. When I told them that I had, their response was usually something like “Oh, that’s what I thought…I saw a group of men driving it through the Wal*Mart parking lot the other day and thought, well that’s not Kathryn.” So once the stories died down, I didn’t think about Louie much.

That next summer I worked at the hotel, again. I worked with almost the exact same group of people and had the same boss. One day, Bob was helping out at the desk and he asked if I had heard what had happened to my car. A little worried it had met a violent and fiery end, I told him I hadn’t heard the story. Louie’s greatest adventure goes something like this: The Turk whose name the car was purchased under had apparently run away from home, was living and working in the US illegally and unbeknownst to the rest of his family. The INS eventually came to the hotel and the poor guy was bounced around the country to various immigration centers until he was eventually deported back to Turkey. The three remaining Turks, after they had finished their housekeeping commitment, took the car and drove it to California. My little car, that hadn’t gone farther than 30 miles from home somehow, someway, made it to the west coast. I don’t know what happened to Louie once he got to California, maybe I’ll see him in a movie someday. I think Julieanne Moore drives a red Maverick in Bennie and Joon, but that was long before his trip…but hey it could happen.

So now, every so often I see a Maverick (but I have yet to see another red one), and a little bit of me misses those late nights driving home from summer jobs or racing home to make curfew.

Here’s to you, Louie, wherever you are.

Another Bouquet Toss

2006-06-24T09:01:00.000-06:00

Jenn and Phil's Wedding, August 2003. I was a willing participant for this toss. Stellar idea Jenn, I'm definitely copying you on this one.

No Introduction Needed

2006-06-23T18:59:00.000-06:00

As promised, here is the previously mentioned bouquet toss picture. Sheena and I tried to convince the people at our table that we technically weren't single, but obviously, that line of reasoning didn't go over so well.

Yes, We Really Did Watch the Game

2006-06-23T17:57:00.000-06:00

And So it Begins

2006-06-23T17:38:00.000-06:00

This lovely picture of Jenn and me prompted Trout to mutter "Oh God, here come the pictures." Like taking pictures is a bad thing...sheesh.

Hello From the 'Burbs!

2006-06-23T17:30:00.000-06:00

One and All:

I'm coming to you live from Highlands Ranch, and more specifically, the room I lived in for eight months (it's now been turned into the home office). I've managed to get my laptop hooked up to the internet, so pictures of the Rockies game (and the chee pudding) are on their way. However, I am having technical difficulties with the scanner so the bouquet toss picture might not be making an appearance until later this weekend. Keep your fingers crossed, I know you all can hardly wait.

And I'd like to publicly thank Trout's stepbrother Chad (for those of you who don't read the comments) for no longer updating his blog. Another crisis averted. You can go ahead and dispose of those "candid" pictures now, Chad. Thanks in advance.

Look for more updates about my adventures in the suburbs, which includes watching World Cup Soccer in High Definition and trying to keep the cat from escaping into the Suburban Jungle.

Cheers,
Kathryn

Insert Sigh of Relief Here

2006-06-22T19:57:00.000-06:00

Earlier this week, Trout told me that his stepmother was going to be sending me a picture from Chad’s wedding that she found amusing. Upon hearing the words “amusing” and “picture” in the same sentence that included me, a slight wave of panic came over me.

I used to be horrifically un-photogenic, I took terrible pictures. There is a school picture that I hope to the powers that be, it doesn’t come back to kick me in the ass someday; I threw away all of my copies, but it has been eternally documented in my high school yearbook (but thankfully not my senior edition). My situation improved drastically after summer jobs in the customer service fields (you learn quickly how to turn on a genuine looking smile on a moment’s notice) and from the hundreds of pictures taken at Jenn and Phil’s wedding almost three years ago. Of course I still take some pretty bad pictures, but the frequency has decreased many times over.

Trout assured me, from what he knew of the picture, that I would also find it amusing. However, when I think about the wedding reception (where I was assuming the picture was taken), and the reasons why an amusing picture would have been taken, I realize I was much more inebriated than I had ever planned on being. All worst case scenarios ran through my head: was my dress tucked into my underwear? Toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoes? Horrible dance moves? Food unknowingly stuck to my face? In my teeth? Despite Trout’s best reassurances, I was expecting the worst.

When the envelope arrived in the mail yesterday, I was hesitant to actually open it. I thought about waiting until I talked to Trout to see if I could get him to tell me what it was before I opened the envelope. Eventually I cowboyed up and opened it. Upon seeing the picture I realized it was nothing like I feared. The picture was of the group of us “single” women waiting to catch the bride’s bouquet. I was standing next to Sheena, Trout’s cousin’s Irish girlfriend, and on the other side of me is a group of younger girls, (and by younger I mean like closer to flower girl age than my age). Sheena’s covering her mouth trying to stifle a laugh while I’m leaned slightly towards her, no doubt muttering some sarcastic, snarky comment about being forced to participate in the toss, which (from what I can recall) dealt with hoping that no one expected us to trample the 10 year olds next to us to grab the chance to get married next. Whether or not Sheena is laughing at my comments, it’s apparent neither one of us wanted to be standing up there. Sheena took the high road and found it amusing, I just look bitter. It really is an amusing picture.

Trout’s stepmom included a funny little note about “Desperate Brides” instead of “Desperate Housewives,” both of which I will never be, but I was so relieved I was neither flashing the wedding guests or demonstrating highly inappropriate table manners that the picture and note are now hanging on my fridge. Crisis averted.

Another Geek-Out Moment, Brought to You by Our Friends at National Geographic

2006-06-21T22:21:00.000-06:00

National Geographic was one of the few magazines in our house growing up. I distinctly remember reading (well more looking at the pictures until I was older) the December 1989 issue. The cover story about the restoration of the Sistine Chapel was fascinating in itself, but I remember being more fascinated with the foldout within the article about artificial limbs and organs. The foldout was a silhouette of the human body that included all of the available artificial limbs and other body parts. As a six year old, I was amazed that something I not only knew about, but something that was a part of me was actually in a magazine.

I should also mention my honorary sister, Mo, works for them in Washington DC, how cool is that? My geekiness is über jealous.

When I moved into my new apartment, my Mom got me a year’s subscription as a housewarming gift. I don’t receive a lot of mail, so the arrival of each new issue always makes for a good day at my place. Thanks to good ol’ NG I’ve had numerous geeky moments since I moved into my new place. I’ve geeked-out so many times with every issue, I can’t believe it.

First, there was this article, and then this, and this, and this and this and just yesterday, my anthropological interest was satisfied yet again with this article. The picture with the shoe is quite possibly the ultimate for my anthropological geekdom. I can’t get enough of this stuff. After having to go through high school with a science teacher who was such a fundie-creationist that he refused to teach evolution, National Geographic is breath of fresh air. Few things get me truly riled up, but try to convince me that evolution can’t be proved and you are in for a heated discussion.

Thanks for stepping up, National Geographic. You can be sure that I will be a lifetime subscriber. And while we’re on the subject…are you going to bring back the Zip Code stories? There wasn’t one in the last issue and I always looked forward to seeing which zip code would be featured (or if I’ve been to any of them). Thanks.

Sick But, Somehow, Incredibly Productive

2006-06-18T21:39:00.000-06:00

To make up for all of my health related maladies, those who are in control of the universe and such things were nice enough to give me an immune system of steel. I very rarely get sick, when the flu or other viruses spread around the residence halls or the office, more often than not, I would come out unscathed. I’ve been at YB almost six months and have managed to avoid everything germ-related that the throngs of youth have thrown our way. Until now. We’re two weeks into the summer session and I have a sore throat that won’t go away, a cough and I think my head is becoming more clogged by the minute.

This weekend I finally got around to buying curtain rods that will work with my windows. Along the way I also managed to pick up a copy of this and this to go with the only other wall hanging in my apartment. Despite a night of horrible sleep, I still managed to get a lot of things done today. I woke up this morning hung both pictures, three set of curtains, went shopping downtown with Jenn, picked up a couple pairs of flip-flops, cleaned my apartment and did my laundry that I’ve been putting off for almost a week. I even managed to catch most of the Australia/Brazil soccer game and finished my workout music mix (shoes came in the mail last week, I start running tomorrow).

Trout will be here tomorrow (which, in all honesty, is the main reason I cleaned the apartment) and on Tuesday we’re going to a baseball game with Jenn and Phil. Hopefully, after a good night’s sleep and a morning run, by the time Trout shows up tomorrow afternoon I’ll won’t be guzzling water and sucking on throat lozenges like they’re candy.

The Officemate

2006-06-17T09:39:00.000-06:00

By the time a person starts looking for their first real job, they have undoubtedly had to work with a wide variety of people, both good and bad. Trudging through the trenches of high school and college employment waiting tables, checking groceries, mowing lawns, babysitting, tending bar or hotel front desks will leave one with enough inspiration to find a better job to last them a lifetime.

Coming from small town, rural America, I’ve worked with a decent cross section of people. Thankfully, none of my former coworkers have been outrageously inept or unbearable to work with. I don’t have nearly as entertaining stories as Dirk, but then again, you’ll be hard pressed to top his coworkers. Since moving to Denver, I’ve been lucky enough to have great coworkers, both at MH and now at YB. We actually socialize outside of work, just for the hell of it. However, the newest addition to our staff probably won’t be joining us the next time we split a pitcher of PBR (oh, that’s right, we drink PBR). And I have to share an office with her.

I’ve attempted to write about this several times already and every time it comes off as whiny, shallow and just not funny. My officemate is a good person, very likable and her heart is in the right place. It’s not that I don’t like her, and having to vent about her makes me feel a little guilty. With that being said, I still find the need to write about it. If I was a better writer this might come out wittier, or cleverer, but this is the best I can do:

My officemate is in her late 30s, but she uses the words “awesome” and “totally” more than any of the youth in our programs.

Instead of using words like “good” or “great” like saying “Okay, great, I’ll get that done for you.” She’ll use “beautiful” instead. At least once a day, I hear something like “Oh that’s beautiful. Thanks for showing me how to print file labels.” Or (when ending phone conversations) “have a beautiful day.”

She thinks that anything the youth do (and keep in mind they’re teenagers, not six year olds) is “cute” and “adorable.” She also uses those adjectives to describe the kids in general. “Which one is José? Is he the adorable little guy who was wearing the green shirt today?” This particular conversation came about when we were signing a birthday card for José’s 16th birthday.

When I finish phone conversations that are clearly not work related, or chuckle at emails (or blogs, but I don’t think she knows what those are), she asks, in the same high, wispy, slightly condescending voice she uses to talk about our “cute” and “adorable” youth, “Oh, was that your hunny-bunny?” I haven’t referred to a boyfriend as “hunny-bunny” since I was fifteen, and even then it was a joke. She’s not joking.

She informed me one day, when I tried to help her re-word a letter that was going to be distributed to parents about our summer workshops (I was trying to explain why words like “awesome” don’t belong in formal business letters), that she avoids using certain words “because of the vibrations.” Apparently words like “sorry” and “please” don’t work well with the balance of the universe.

In our programs, we emphasize the importance of the business handshake, and as a result, when the trainees come in to work, they shake the hands of their peers and staff members. Since we’re in the front office, we end up shaking a lot of hands throughout the day. I admit, this is a surprisingly uplifting part of my day, and thankfully, my officemate has an explanation for why this is so inspiring. In her airy, hippy-dippy voice, she told me “Oh, I know it’s so great to shake the youths’ hands, you can just feel their positive energy being transferred to you.” I’m pretty sure the vibrations came up again in this conversation as well. Mystery solved.

Now, I’m all for religious freedom and expression, even ones that include crystals, vibrations and astrological charts. However, the thing that really baffles me is that my officemate, whether subconsciously or not, thinks that not only should we help the youth with academic, business and leadership skills, but we should be helping improve their souls as well. That’s fine, but YB is not the place to being doing that. I don’t know if she sees our youth as these poor disadvantaged, unenlightened beings that need to be shown the way, but last week’s workshop was a little too much. At one point, the youth had to sing Amazing Grace and other spiritual hymns while trying to center their breathing in order to identify their inner-vibrations. The whole situation was just so out of place and awkward that I had to retreat to the back of the building.

As strange as my work environment is sometimes, and I wish I had my own office again, I also have to keep my fingers crossed that my officemate works out. My promotion doesn’t include an office change, but she’s next in line to take over all my administrative duties when I switch positions. If she doesn’t stick around that might put a hitch in when I get to start working in development fulltime.

What I wouldn’t do for a cubicle right about now…

Nothing to Do

2006-06-14T18:40:00.000-06:00

The triple digit weather has zapped all energy out of me, so the most productive thing I could think of to do (after making another batch of guacamole, that is) was to change my blog template. Even though I eradicated most of the grey, I was feeling restless with that look. Let's see how long this one lasts.

I keep meaning to post about my current office sitauation, and if I can muster up the energy to do that, I might post again tonight.

Later.

I’m Not A Runner, But I Play One On TV

2006-06-12T23:29:00.000-06:00

Recap time folks: I am chronically unathletic. Because of this condition I avoided sports (with the exception of Ultimate Frisbee) like the plague and dentist appointments through high school and college. For some reason I also associated physical activity with athleticism and therefore didn’t do much to get or stay in shape.

In high school everyone knew I was the band/drama/academic team geek and there was never any question as to my athletic ability. So when I was a freshman in college, I was really confused why people kept asking if I was on the cross country team, or if I ran track in high school. Didn’t being in the marching band automatically correlate with non-athleticism? Apparently not. And apparently, unbeknownst to me for the first 18 years of my life, I look like a runner. I found this rather amusing because I hated running. Ever since I developed asthma in the second grade, not to mention my inability to really excel at any sport, running and overexerting my lungs just lost its appeal..

I’ve since outgrown the asthma and have come to realize I can still get in shape without having to become a killer basketball player. Since starting (and then, finishing) college there have been some short-lived occasions where getting shape was almost a reality; emphasis on short-lived and the almost part of that statement.

This weekend marked the beginning of the World Cup. I went to L-town to hang out with Trout. This, of course involved a lot of World Cup watching, and inspired us to go buy a soccer ball to kick around one afternoon. I suppose I could blame the altitude (L-town is at 7220 feet, a good 2000 feet above Denver), and after several short sprints and a little bit of mild jogging around the park, I was completely spent. I was not happy about this. However, I realize I have the ability to run decently, and hell, since I look like a runner, why can’t I be a runner?

Before I could talk myself out of it, as soon as we got back to Trout’s place, I ordered some new running shoes. I’m tired of being out of shape and feeling all lethargic and sluggish. It’s getting too hot out to actually walk to work now (with a 20 minute walk, if it’s above 70 degrees, I am too sweaty for comfort by the time I get to work), but I still want to get some sort of exercise. As soon as my new shoes arrive in the mail (hooray for zappos.com!), I’m going to start running in the mornings before work. No, seriously, I really am. Something happened this weekend and my frame of mind shifted. Instead of thinking I should exercise because it would be the right thing to do, I actually I want to exercise because it would make me feel better.

I realize it’s nothing profound, but it’s enough to get me out of bed every morning, put on my running shoes and do what I really never saw myself doing, ever: running just for the hell of it.

Works for me. Wish me luck.

Explorers Are We

The Madness

Rub-A-Dub-Dub

I’ll Think of a Title Later

Not Tonight

Making a Brief Appearance

I Have a Problem

Ooh La La

Livin’ It Up in the 5400

Greetings from the Ice Planet of Hoth

Thoughts on a Lazy Sunday Morning

Following Suit

Before

After

Unpacking: The Week (So Far) In Review

Writing From a New Location

Packing: Day Four and Five

Packing: Day Three

Packing: Day Two

Let the Packing Begin

All I Want For Christmas

Woohoo!

Amidst the Chaos

Happy Thanksgiving

Coming Soon

The Best Part of Waking Up? Eah. Maybe…

These People Know Me

Thanks!

A Question For the Masses

Daylight Wasting Time

Order Restored

Thoughts About Jobs

*sigh*

Oy

Secondly, A Recap

First, A Suggestion

Crap.

Motivation

Celebrate

It Really Is A Small World After All

Is gooood yeaaah?

Fall

Kids These Days

The Best of What’s Around

Something to Hang on My Fridge

What? No Lollipop?

PPA Falls

One Year

The 5400 and My Philodendron

Tales From The Country

Live From the BH

Frisbees and Puppies!

Oooh La La

Awwwww

Snoopy

Scooby

Freeway

The Dog Daze of Summer: A Pictorial Presentation

Dog Daze at The Ranch

My Not-So-Green Thumb: Part II

The Beginning

No Thanks, I’ll Just Read the Book Again

The Road to [insert small town name here]

Air Conditioning, How I Miss Thee

Joining the Cool Kids

Movin' On Up

Praise Jebus!

Puppy Dog

Blocked

[Untitled]

Hello, My Old Friend

A Picture is Worth...

How Cool is This?

Don’t Stop Believin’

A Guilty Pleasure

My Return

An Update

Motivation

Grown Up

It’s About Friggin’ Time

sigh

Insert Sigh of Relief Here