Manta Ray!

Look at Maren's nifty picture!

How in the world did that remote get *there*?!

Sometime in the last two months I went bowling at the Surf Bowl with Nick and Jennifer. Before (and during) the bowling, the three of us were slamming back Vodka and Red Bulls or Vodka tonics, the tasty ones that Jen likes.

There was some heavy metal freak screaming and playing a guitar inside the bar and the tv was showing something ridiculously benign and probably just as stupid.

Every once in a while I turn into kind of a klepto when I'm drinking. But this night was different, because I was stealing in order to increase the average intelligence of the bar. I decided that the entire bar could use a nice helping of CSPAN.

Jennifer and I cackled as I hid the remote beneath the bar. How it got into my Coach purse, I'm not entirely sure of, but I'm pretty sure my hands had something to do with it. I believe I actually stuffed it inside my jeans first, because Jen had to grab my purse on the way out since I conveniently forgot it was hanging on the back of my chair.

I pulled it out of my jeans and stuck it in my purse. Then we bowled three games with probably three more drinks a piece. I actually managed to beat Jen one game, by three points or something, but only because she was having an unusually bad game.

The drunker I got the less concerned I was about the bar folk who were stuck watching CSPAN, and we left the bowling alley drunk and happy. Took a turn to Denny's because Jen and I were not ready for the night to be over and Nick had to go to work at 2am.

The next morning I open my purse to find that remote waiting to be returned to its natural habitat.

I haven't thought of this night in a while, mostly because I haven't had time to get to Santa Cruz since that weekend what between school and skiing. Tonight on the phone Nick informed me that he was eyeballing that remote and wondering what to do with it.

I apologize Surf Bowl. I was not being malicious - I really was trying to educate those poor people. And seriously, you probably shouldn't keep the remote out on the bar for idiots like me to confiscate.

So that was a waste of $2,000 ...

Three hurrahs for my Strategy of Technology class coming to an end! If only it would have met its end in a more pleasant way, I'd be completely rested today and very happy.

The class itself was okay - the information was of some interest to a geek like me, but the professor butchered that class in such a way that I hardly knew what assignments we had from week to week. Syllabus? What's that? He was using a syllabus from someone who used to teach the class and never bothered updating it. So the assignments on that were not what we actually needed to do - ever!

As far as yesterday goes, my grade was a 97% - I think. I'd say I actually knew if he'd graded half the work I was supposed to do, so who knows, maybe I really had a B. In order to clarify some things, he let us ask a slew of questions the first night. One of our questions was would the final be open or closed book. Open, he says. I wrote that down as I'm very attentive to things that might affect my nerdy GPA.

Last week he gives us a list of ten obscure and fairly random questions. Many of them are from readings that were never assigned, and of course this guy never once lectured on any key points. Then he says, "Well, I can pretty much guarantee that numbers 1, 3, 4 and 6 will be on the final. I like to ask those. Plus you need to evaluate one of the (many, many) videos we watched."

Sweet. I can do that. I studied on the way to and from Kirkwood last weekend, which means I was up reading homework, taking notes, all that scholarly crap in the car at 6:00am. Bleh.

I get to class last night to find out our final is not open book, so all the cute little tabs I have (Evan calls these "page savers") from my super cool 3M pink highlighter that I rescued from the snow outside of Brennen's condo won't even help me.

Shit.

My face flushes and I break out into a light sweat underneath my Desperate Housewives tracksuit. (I was too bloated to wear real pants) I'm cursing to myself, totally freaked out, because even *I* cannot bullshit that well.

A minute later I have a mild epiphany: Nothing really matters. I'm here, I have to take the test, so what's the use in worrying about how I really know nothing at all?

He gives us the test and lo and behold only like half the questions he told us to research were even on there. Nice. Very cool. Fortunately I knew the basics of most of them and scribbled with a fury I haven't seen since my honors English class of junior year. I finished in just under an hour. Five essay questions.

At this point I'm pretty sure I've blown my A, if I ever had one. I'm a little bummed, but I'm gonna buy burritos for Nick and I and relax to prepare for my Economics final.

Outside the Burrito Shop a man selling Street Week asks me for money. Lying I explain that I have no cash and I'm sorry, a byproduct of working in San Francisco for so long. Then he says, "A chicken or steak taco would be nice. On your way out?"

Fine. I buy him one of each, bring him salsa, a fork, and a napkin and realize that one grade in a poorly taught class doesn't mean anything. The moment I bought someone else food they couldn't afford (even if he does have some cash on him) I did something far more meaningful than getting an A in a class no one will ever think about again.

Cheers.

Tonight is Econ. Of course I haven't studied ... we'll see if I can blow this A too.

;)

It might not be good for me, but at least it's free ...

I can admit that I eat McDonald's, and lately I've been doing it rather frequently for breakfast before skiing. And yes, my pants are a little tighter, but hey ... at least I'm getting my protein and carbs, right?

Today I've eaten a yogurt, an oatmeal, and have about half a cup of lettuce to eat for lunch. So when Norma asked me if I wanted McDonald's (for free) for lunch, I immediately thought, "NO!!!!" but then I realized the less I spend this week, the more I can splurge next week on my vacation with Nick.

So yeah, I'll take the fatty food for one more day.

Also, this makes me feel like I'm skiing - and even though I'm not, Nick is, which means one of us should be eating the garbage food.

Hurray Free Micky D's!

Tonight ...

An apple.

The last scoops of Jif extra-crunchy peanut butter.

Rice-a-Roni (the San Francisco treat!) and Tuna Fish.

I have no food. I have money to shop and no time. I am eating two yogurts today because that's all I have that's fresh and edible.

To be Continued ....

When life hands you lemons

make lemonade.

My mom always says this when things are difficult. I wonder if today, after getting terminated from her job while on disability, she can say that?

I hate worrying about my family.

Hate hate hate it.

I'm going to try and start sending them money every month to help them out with everything.

Raging Panties?

Seriously, that was a search query that found my blog somehow. Now I'm not even sure I know what raging panties _are_, but I'm gonna take a stab at it anyway.

Three things come to mind:

1) Volcano Poo (not going to elaborate because I'm pretty sure we've all felt the singe of molten lava reducing our intestines to goo)

2) A very bad venereal disease of some sort. Untreated Herpes comes to mind ... or maybe Chlamydia.

3) A person with uncontrollable lust who needs to get some right away.

They are all very good options. I hope they help whoever needed to find information about raging panties.

My Candy Heart ...

Your Candy Heart Says "Get Real"

You're a bit of a cynic when it comes to love. You don't lose your head, and hardly anyone penetrates your heart. Your ideal Valentine's Day date: is all about the person you're seeing (with no mentions of v-day!) Your flirting style: honest and even slightly sarcastic What turns you off: romantic expectations and "greeting card" holidays Why you're hot: you don't just play hard to get - you are hard to get

What Does Your Candy Heart Say?

The world's most ridiculous Hallmark holiday in the world has come and gone, and what do we have to show for it?

Erm, I mean happy valentine's day, guys.

I don't have any_thing_ per se, but I did have a wonderful ski-filled weekend, which you all know is more than a Valentine's present to me.

This was the first weekend since my fancy ski clinic and so far it seems I've learned enough to keep me going quite awhile. I ski faster now, with better balance and I could ski anywhere Nick wanted to go. We did chair 6 of course, and Eagle Bowl off chair 10. I liked that run and I'd never done it, so experiencing something new was really cool. Ended the day in the Palisades, and though my knee is still sore, I had a great time.

On Saturday Jen's family came to Kirkwood and I got to help the little ones ski. Alex, her four year old brother, is crazy and tried to ski backwards after he saw Nick doing it. Then, little boy follows me inbetween some trees on chair 5. Little nut. "Monkey see, monkey do," were Cindy's favorite words to me by the end of the day.

Steve, Nick's brother, was extremely helpful with the children and didn't have a bad run of skiing himself. He's a little prone to falling, and didn't always like the runs we took him on, but trooped through One Man Chute when Nick got him lost.

The hot tub was a necessity, and I'm glad we are giving repeat business to the Vagabond Inn in South Lake since they held onto my fancy pillow for two months before I claimed it. I'm pretty sure the owner of the motel was using it to sleep with though because he didn't want to give it up.

Oh yeah, this is supposed to be about Valentine's Day.

Well, in there somewhere was a nice dinner with some Wet Woodies. Stop pervert, I'm talking about a drink at the restaurant. Very tasty. I haven't had a brain freeze like that in years, but when you are thirsty and you get a slushy mai-tai tasting thing, you must suck it down quickly.

Happy day after. Hope it was good for everyone.

Weebles Wobble But They Don't Fall Down

I'm pretty sure it's a conspiracy. BART, I mean. Yes, I'm talking about Bay Area Rapid (haha) Transit.

It's gotta be a conspiracy against the passengers, because otherwise those poor train drivers would get so bored of saying, "MacArthur, MacArthur station. Final transfer point to Richmond," day in and day out.

Today BART had some problems with the Richmond line which as you can guess caused problems for everyone else. My train came on time, except it wasn't the train I normally take, and it was packed full of bored, irritable, sleepy people. We stood in that train like Weeble-Wobbles in the hands of an unruly six year old. There was hardly room to stand, let alone worry if you are breathing onto the shoulder of the person next to you, when suddenly the BART train driver started messing with us.

VroomSlam! VroomSlam! VroomSlam!

This was his idea of a controlled stop at every station. Races to a stopping point, slams on breaks (VroomSlam!). He did this repeatedly as though to teach us a lesson. The whole car of people swayed side to side in unision like the larges team of Weeble-Wobbles ever.

Good news is that a bad morning train is much better than a bad afternoon one where there are strange and unusual smells and people are greasy after a hard day at the office.

That, and I really miss playing with Weeble-Wobbles.

The CDT Conference ...

that I'm attending right now, is really so interesting that I had to go the hotel's front lobby and pimp out the wireless network so I could find something to do.

I'm told if I come away learning four things, I did good. Well, I did that this morning so now I can eat candy, drink coffee, and plan my ski trip this weekend.

I even did some homework! Woot.

When it's Time to Change, You've Got to Rearrange

Oh yeah, sing it Peter Brady.

A few weeks back I stopped taking my trusty birth control pills. The reasons surrounding this are many, but primarily because my neurologist and I agreed that if I'm having a hormonal string of headaches, it doesn't make sense to be putting that crap into my body on a daily basis. So I threw out the pack before I'd even gotten to the special green pills.

Things have been remarkably good so far - no headaches, except for those caused by my sinus infection, and mostly I've felt completely normal. I'm also off of all the other migraine drugs except for Frova which is something I take for a few days before the "bad week". Of course now I don't really know when that is. I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough though.

The past few days have been strange for me because I'm finally thinking the way I imagine many women think on a regular basis. Overanalyzing every detail in my relationship; getting angry when he says the wrong thing or eats my frozen yogurt despite the fact that there was basically no other food in my house.

I'm crazy. And manic. And very annoying.

I'm also overly tired and running on about 5 hours of sleep the past few nights, so my already wacky emotional state is supercharged like static cling - sticking to all the negativity and weird self-doubt I have about all the change I'm about to endure.

I graduate soon. This summer, in fact. I will be looking to move and get a new job. I'm intimidated and anxious about the whole process. Somedays I feel like things are great and I'll get a better job than I have now without any trouble; others I wonder if I even made the right decision to go back to school for this MBA thing. It's a lot of opressing debt. It's been hard. And I'm about to find out if it was worth it.

Which is pretty crazy because realistically it's just the slip of paper that opens those doors, meaning that my potential income will be higher for the rest of my life, as I gain experience and better jobs.

I'm confident enough now that if I wanted to do business consulting for dentists, I could, and it's always in the back of my brain given the people I talk to and how they react.

I'm fairly adept at responding to change and handle many aspects of it well; however right at this moment I wonder all those thoughts about myself that sneak in late at night when I'm alone.

Am I good enough? Am I smart enough? Can I even afford to pay back all the money I borrowed to invest in this brain? Will I ever have a job making more money than the amount I borrowed to get through UCSC and business school?

It's a crazy stressful time. Finals loom around the corner.

My advice to women everywhere: do not stop taking that glorious, glorious pill during a stressful time. Go to Maui and then stop. Have a love child and reduce your chances of cancer. Bottle me some milk to try. While you are there, hug Maren for me and have her call me to talk me off the ledge.

It's okay to sit down, so long as it's in a Lazy-Boy

My mother, who decided to move away from me and live up in the woods like a crazy person with my father, recently ruptured a disc in her lower back. This highly energetic, borderline spastic, eccentric hippy of a woman has been immobilized by her aging body.

On disability she now whittles away the hours crocheting and knitting, in a Lazy Boy chair picked out especially for her. The tale of the chair is something else entirely, but it took nearly three weeks to buy and have delivered. These people live so far off the beaten path that delivery to their area is only twice a month.

Her chair is a beautiful mom shade of pink-fuscia, and apparently she loves it. It is the only space, besides her bed, where she can spend extended amounts of time.

We've signed her up for Netflix and recommended some tv shows, and although the delivery of the precious silver discs that relieve her endless boredom and misery is considered slow, I think she likes the system nonetheless.

In a few weeks here I am going to visit my parents in their tiny house, probably full of dishes, dog hair, and dust. Pappy's recent knee replacement went very well, but I think he's still crippling along while mom is a prisoner of the Lazy-Boy.

It's unimaginable for me to actually go up there while my mother is so confined and immobile. That with her searing pain and numbness is literally almost too much for me to see.

My most vivid memories of my mom involve her energy and ability to run around for hours, just like her mother before her and so on. I can't imagine seeing her so immobilized and the thought is nearly inconveivable. She's always has more vivacity and zest for life of anyone I've ever known.

Here though is where her amazing fortitude shines as she's managing to keep an upbeat spirit as much as she can and still, amazingly, doing things around the house she shouldn't, like feeding Bonnie their great pyrenees dog who weighs almost as much as I do. Every three days she tackles the various dishes, garbage and torn apart heads of lettuce that Pappy tosses carelessly in the kitchen sink.

I know she's very much looking forward to my visit, but honestly I'm afraid to see her so frail and in pain. I don't want to acknowledge the idea that my parents are mortal, aging, and ultimately breaking down cell by cell every day.

It's so funny to get to an age where you think you worry about your parents more than they do you. Awkward, uncomfortable, and yet so full of love it hurts.

Hang in there moomsie. I love you and will do everthing in my power to make you laugh and have fun even if you are confined to that chair for 8 months like the doctor said.

If it doesn't burn for two days, it's just not good for you...

A lot has happened recently that's been pretty good. I'd like to update this site more frequently, but I just don't have the time with school and work.

Nearly two weeks ago I found myself driving up to Kirkwood with Nick. We were planning on heading up there for some skiing and hopefully a chance to say, "Happy Birthday" to Brennen. I was gearing up for a day of skiing after what had been a highly emotional week, and even though I love to ski, a tiny part of me was reluctant to go.

We got the most excellent parking space even though Nick tried to argue with the Kirkwood parking person and tell him that we needed to head to Edelweiss. Crunched up the snow in our boots and started getting ready. Grappling with my second boot buckle, I glanced sideways to see Brennen skiing over to us. I stayed where I was because he doesn't really like to wait, and so I kind of just said hello to everyone with my butt in their faces. I'm sure they appreciated it, ski pants and all.

A tiny finger poked my bum. Poke! Poke! I turned around to find Maren who flew all the way home from Maui to surprise me and I grabbed her and immediately started stifling the sobs.

We skied, we drank, we played fun games with Nick and Sarah and somehow talked about herpes way too much.

Seque to the next weekend where I crunched with my ski boots up the snowy path yet again, only this time to take an expert level ski class to get some help with my form and balance.

It was slightly windy (although nothing like the previous weekend where it was blasting me off the mountain) and snowing. I finally bought some cold-weather gloves and my hands stayed toasty warm all day long. I wore Maren's fleece-lined ski pants on account of the weather, and everything was great.

We got up there early as the drive from my sister's house proved quicker than we thought, although I was pretty much useless and suffering from carcolepsy the whole way. I've no idea what was wrong with me. The good thing about being early is you have time for a breakfast burrito from Monty's, which is essentially an entire meal wrapped in a tortilla. The thing even has hashbrowns _inside_ of it. Yum!

We skied chair 6 all day long, and had a stop over at chair 10, but the lift was too slow for most of the people in my class. Got off the lift at chair ten and hung a right to do a wicked traverse in what was basically a white-out. It was amazing to get to our run and just listen to the quiet - nobody was out there. It was absolutely beautiful and the snow was fanstastic. Easily, my favorite run of the entire day.

Plus, let's face it, I'm not really in shape to do chair 6 all day long without a break. That's why I do chair 4. Anyway, my legs were screaming at me by lunchtime but I had to go back out and practice. I learned how to double pole plant, which probably sounds rudimentary to you, but for me it's the balance technique that really helped.

Once I started poling better I noticed I felt a lot more stable in the snow and could control my speed without having to stop at all. Excellent! Who likes to stop anyway? We also skied a very short 45 degree hill as a test to see how we'd made it through the day. To give you an indication, the first time I skied it, I fell down for a couple of turns. Second time, no problem at all.

I was voted most improved skier in my class by my instructor, but that's probably because I ate it right away while we were getting divided into groups. Drove home to play with my nieces and their hot tub, and ended up having a wonderful time.

My legs hurt for a couple of days afterwards, but it felt really good.

I'd like to take another class again in February if possible, but we'll see. I think I'm going to Oregon that weekend. I'm a little bit nervous that I will forget everything I learned before I get up there again since I'm not going this weekend, but I'm proud of myself. It felt good to work so hard at something and see marked improvement in just one day.