Diary_of_a_Nobody's Xanga

Monday, July 14, 2008

Mon, 14 Jul 2008 15:52:46 GMT

Oh and the BF has requested that I add a post about what I did last week.

I sat on a banana. Not in the "if you know what I mean" way. But an actual banana. Which I sat on. And smushed. While it was sitting on the counter.

Me and my stupid ideas

Mon, 14 Jul 2008 15:50:58 GMT

I've had this idea in my head for awhile now that I really wanted to go fishing.

It seems like it would be the perfect sport for me. Requires minimal physical agility, most of the time is spent hanging out and I like fish. My favorite game is the plastic fishing one where the fish go around opening their mouths and you hook them with your plastic ball on a string. I have fond memories of it from when I was a kid. When I was about 8, my brother took two of my cousins and I to a nearby lake that was having a kid's fishing competition. One of my cousins fondly remembers how my mother kept putting sweaters on her until she had about 7 or 8 of them on and no amount of complaining about how hot it was would change my mother's mind. I remember pulling in about 4 or 5 fish that day. Each time the line would jerk, I was estatic. By the time we left, we had two buckets full of trout. I'd even placed 3rd in my age group. Although my record would be crushed about 10 minutes after I left.

We got to the lake and rented the poles and bought whatever bait the guy told us to. Sure I'd just been cheated out of $20 because they claimed to only have 2-day passes but since the lake is closed tomorrow I'm basically just buying the 1-day pass at the inflated rate. But I was going to do this, dammit.

The sun was scorching so I wanted to find a spot near a tree. After a mile of hiking over rocks and under trees (in flip-flops because I clearly didn't have any foresight) I'd lost my patience when my bag snagged on a tree and ripped open. We settled on whatever shade there was and set up camp. As I handed the BF my pole, as predicted I hooked myself. Just barely. But enough to make to scream and holler. Mostly for attention.

The BF opened up the bait and wondered aloud if they'd forgotten to put the bait inside.

"Um...they're alive so look under the dirt," I answered.

"Oh gross."

After 15 minutes of trying to figure out how to break the worms apart on the owner guy's advice (and my squealing and gagging on my part) the poles were baited. Much to my surprise, I could still cast. But that was all I could do. After flinging two worms into the drink, I gave up and picked up a plastic worm that someone had dropped to use instead. I'd found a nice spot and somehow avoided getting stuck in the weeds. Then I saw a fish. A catfish by a big rock just below where I'd cast. Then thoughts started to fill my head. Oh crap, if he bites then I'll have to bring him in and somehow remove the hook. What if it hurts the poor catfish. I don't really want to eat him. We didn't bring a bucket or anything, where am I going to put a catfish? So instead, I just reeled the line in as fast as I could. Then I proclaimed that the fish just weren't biting there and moved on.

As it turns out, I really didn't need to worry. The tiny fish were too small to bite the hook and the catfish weren't interested in the worms. Even when the BF spotted a catfish at the edge of the lake and put the worm right in front of him. Even when he poked the fish on the head with the bait. Even when he pushed him with his pole. That fish just wasn't into him.

On our way out I stopped by the bathroom to wash my hands. It was only then that I realized just how red I was. And it was then that I remembered we forgot the sunscreen. Right now I'm burnt to a crisp and all my clothes hurt so bad and my complexion closely resembles a cooked lobster. But I can say that I've gone fishing as an adult and will never get the urge to go ever again.

Next week, gun range.

Prison and Me

Tue, 27 May 2008 15:30:13 GMT

On Thursday, I took the day off so I could drive 45 miles out of my way and sit in the parking lot of a prison. No, I was not put in jail nor was I visiting someone who is.

I'd like to say that I didn't silently scream "Eek!" as I drove past the sea of orange jumpers in the yard. I'd like to say that as I sat in the car waiting that I didn't frantically jump and turn every time I heard a noise behind me. I'd like to say that I didn't slump down a little in my seat in case I saw someone I knew. And I'd like to say that I don't believe in stereotypes and don't have preconceived notions but obviously whether conscientiously or not, I do.

I will say this though. If driving through a parking lot can put me on edge that much, I can only imagine what it would be like to be inside. If you want to scare your child straight, this is the place to be. It might not work on every kid, but it'd sure as hell work on me. *Note to self, must replace embezzled money before someone notices*

The mystery man

Wed, 14 May 2008 23:03:31 GMT

Every day on my drive home from work there's this man that walks down the same street with his cane and backpack. I don't know who he is or where he's going. But he always puts a smile on my face. And I couldn't tell you why.

Sometimes when I'm sitting in traffic I give him a story. I think he got his limp from a war injury when he courageously rescued someone and got hurt in the process. Or maybe he was born with it and that look of determination that he always has is just a sign of how strong he is. Maybe he's walking home to his family after a hard day at work. Or maybe he's just taking his evening stroll. Maybe he's carrying his work home in his backpack. Maybe he's carrying a change of clothes because he's stopping at the gym. Maybe he's taking night classes and he's carrying his notebook and pens.

But whatever reason it is that draws him there every night, it warms my heart to know that tomorrow he'll still be there. He'll still be carrying that backpack and walk up that hill with his cane. Unless it rains. Then he probably takes the bus or drives.

Random Encounters

Mon, 05 May 2008 16:21:58 GMT

These days life is simply moving too fast for me. I miss the days when you could count on every day to be the same as the one before. Apparently we're going to buy a house now. Eeek.

On Saturday we went for a second round of looking at the houses on the market. These were ones we picked out so we knew they would suit our tastes more. Now without further ado I leave you with some of the better moments of the day.

BF: There's a lot of open area out there, do you think it's a fire hazard?
Realtor: Nah, there's fire breaks and sprinklers. I think you're pretty safe.
(ten minutes later at the next house)
BF: Do you think this could be a fire hazard?
Realtor: No.
(ten more minutes...)
BF: Now what do you think about the fire thing here?
Realtor: Stop worrying about fire!

(upon visiting a Spanish-style house with lots of archways)
Me: I really hate the arches for some reason. Could we turn them into squares?
(long pause while the realtor looks around)
BF: He doesn't know what to say to that.

Me: Wow, I really like the huge built-in BBQ in the backyard.
Realtor: Yeah , you could cook a lot of meat on this BBQ.
Me: Yeah, hot dogs.
Realtor: Um...I mean like real meat. The raw kind.

Me: This is nice but the master bedroom looks a little small.
Realtor: Why do you need so much space in here. Do you romp around a lot or something?
(long extended pause with some giggles)
Realtor: Uh...I mean do you run around a lot...or something.
Me: (chuckle) Yeah, we play tag a lot.
BF: Yeah, freeze tag sometimes.
Me: But since there's only two of us, sometimes we have to stand there for a long time until the other person comes back.

Fire and water

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 14:54:24 GMT

Last weekend we held a bonfire for our out-of-town guests. But there was one thing we didn't count on, the unpredictable weather of Spring.

We got to the beach as it started misting. We assumed it was because of the high winds and proximity to the water. As I trudged over to the pits, I noticed there was no one else around. Typically not a good sign.

I screwed up and had told everyone to park at a lot that was half a mile away. The BF grumbled about it as he carried the bundles of wood the entire distance.

The fire was started and to my embarrassment I realized that two bundles of firewood make a pretty pathetic looking bonfire. Luckily our friends showed up with reinforcements. In the shape of an entire dead tree in the back of his truck. No. Seriously. They had to go out there four times to carry all the wood back.

But I will admit that it made an impressive fire. Not that size is everything.

Just as the fireworks from the nearby amusement started to go off, someone exclaimed that they had lost their glasses in the sand. Nearly a dozen adults fell to the ground pawing at the sand in the dark as if trying to unearth a treasure. By the time we found the glasses, sitting on the chair where it was placed 20 minutes before, the fireworks were over.

Everyone was cold and no one wanted to do anything. We were all content watching one of the guys prod the fire with a 2x4. Of course, I wanted a turn. And they were not shy about giving me encouragement.

"Poke it. Poke it harder. You're being too gentle. Poke the hell out of it. Poke it on this side."

Then it started to rain.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Tue, 01 Apr 2008 15:39:01 GMT

She passed away on Saturday. I hope she's at peace now.

When bad things happen

Fri, 21 Mar 2008 16:09:35 GMT

A few days ago we were called into a meeting at work. Generally speaking, nothing good has ever come out of an impromptu meeting around here. Our fears were confirmed when we were told that our boss would not be returning to work.

About two years ago, our boss had gone out for a few months when she was first diagnosed with cancer. She is one of the strongest people that I've ever known. She faced the surgery and the recovery always with a smile on her face. She even tried to argue with her doctor to come back to work before he would allow her to. And for two years life continued as it always had.

Then in December, another colleague and I were called into her office. The moment the door closed I knew it would be something bad. With a brave face she quietly told us that the cancer had returned and much stronger. Even as she told us that she wanted us to take charge of the office while she went off to start chemo, she never shed a tear. An emergency meeting was called that afternoon to let the rest of the staff know. Everyone at the table was reaching for the tissues but she remained stoic. It didn't surprise me. She was always so levelheaded and calm.

But in the days to follow her resolve began to slowly crumble. At first she had just stopped smiling as much. Then she started saying less each day. Then she started dressing differently and not doing her hair or makeup anymore. When we tried to make jokes around her, she could only force a small grin.

She wasn't supposed to start chemo until after the holidays but she had gone home one Friday and decided she couldn't come back. We understood. She needed the time to prepare herself for the treatments. She didn't want visitors and she didn't want to talk. It wasn't until I picked up some of her unfinished files that it really hit me how hard this was for her. Even in her handwriting I could feel what she thinking. Her usual neat cursive had become a jumble of shaky scribbles.

We knew the treatments weren't going well. She had reacted badly to the medication and the procedures kept getting delayed. We knew all along that even if she got better, she wouldn't be coming back. Part of it was selfish, I admit. We all wondered what it would mean to our group if she didn't come back. But even though I knew it was likely, I still didn't believe it. As the weeks passed without updates, we knew that no news probably meant bad news.

The cancer has spread to her brain. She's stopped talking, either as a side effect or a withdrawal tactic we don't know. But doctors have given her 1-2 months max. We aren't allowed to go see her and they're clearing out her office next week. I've known that all along I've been groomed to take her position should anything happen but now that it's here it feels so wrong to even consider it. I know this post can't help her but I'm hoping that it helps me come to terms with it.

Two Wheels and a Basket

Mon, 17 Mar 2008 15:46:46 GMT

On Saturday while taking a trip to one of my favorite places, Target, we'd spotted something we've been waiting two years for. They were finally having a sale on their bikes. Sure, they'd probably been on sale a handful of times already but I'd been relying on the classic method of "randomly shopping and praying for the day it goes on sale while I happen to be there".

We'd almost bought bikes two years ago but at the time reasoned that we didn't have a place to store it and we didn't need another expense. We'd been kicking ourselves since. Sure, we still don't have space for it and it's actually more expensive now than it was then but who doesn't need a bike? Everyone could use a bike.

I'd taught myself to ride a bike in about an hour when I was 10. All I had was my sister's old green cruiser bike with a wobbly wheel. I'd been riding for a day when I took a corner too fast and flew off my bike and skinned too many body parts to count. That was the last time I'd touched a bike. So I shouldn't have any trouble, right?

Saddened though I was to see that they had since changed the color of the women's bike from pink to blue, at least I was comforted in all the accessories that I could get with it. A Barbie horn that emits such a loud, high-pitched screech that calls dogs from miles away, got to have it. A white basket with a pink flower in the front, I'd need it for carrying things obviously. Streamers that flutter in the wind, duh! A cute matching water bottle, well of course I would need something to put in the basket. So what if my bike ends up looking like it belongs to a third-grader? I'll be the last one laughing when you need a place to put your stuff and need to alert people to your presence. Sucker. Maybe all those things will make riding a bike less painful this time around.

Towers

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 15:27:16 GMT

Has you ever played the game PixelJunk Monsters®? The BF downloaded it for the PS3 a while ago but I am still addicted to it. Its basically a defense game where you build towers and stop the "monsters" from getting to the end or in this case, stop them from getting to your short, round buddies.

I've never been a big fan of strategy games unless the strategy involves just going balls-to-the-wall and doing whatever looks prettiest. The concept of planning out each move to maximize effectiveness requires more than my ADD self can handle. For years I watched the BF play the games and would only offer comments on how a red tower in that spot would make the colors more pleasing to the eye.

When he first downloaded it, I rolled my eyes at him. Then he made me sit down and play with him because he wanted to try out the 2-player mode. I obliged. After a few rounds of making my little character run around shaking his booty to upgrade towers, I was hooked. The BF would come home from work and find me sitting in the dark in front the tv desperately trying to make my little guy dance so my cannon could turn purple before the next wave of monsters came. Then he pointed out that if I could pass a level without losing a life, I'd get a rainbow over that area. A rainbow? Holy crap, I have to replay all those levels so I can have a rainbow-filled world!

For weeks, whenever someone asked what I wanted to do I always replied with an enthusiastic, "Play towers!!"

Sure I may instinctively shake my booty whenever I'm waiting for something to load and I may dream about cannons, so what? But nothing will ever change the fact that I still think an arrow tower would look nicer in that spot even if its useless. Makes it more balanced looking.