Before I even sit down to write, I know that all I want is to let the tide of warm bed, warm bed, warm bed sweep me back out to wherever it is that we go when we sleep.
The girls and I snuggled up and read a few pages of Susan Cooper in the California King, and then all drifted off together, breathing off-beat, competing, deep sleep breaths. In my case, dreaming of missed deadlines between the snooze alarms until finally I rose to blog. Monday night blogs are often made of such stuff and nonsense.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Sunday, February 27, 2005
The 100,000 mile club
The latest thing I'm getting rid of is a 12" x 12" official (but cheesy) document with my father's name on it saying he's a member of United Air Lines 100,000 MILE CLUB. "In appreciation of your valuable contribution to air transport progress." It's signed by Edward E. Carlson, the President of United, and my guess is that it dates back to the mid seventies. Dad traveled a lot then. I remember being bemused when, just before my 10th birthday, my mother uncharacteristically spoke up in protest of one of his business trips. She claimed that he'd missed 8 of my first 10 birthdays. I hadn't noticed. I don't remember caring. Ouch.
I've kept the mile club certificate for about two years (since I unearthed it among other paperwork), planning on sending it to my dad for his amusement. But it's an awkward shape, and while I didn't want to fold it, I also obviously never went to the trouble of buying an envelope that it would fit in or rolling it to send to my dad. With my new understanding of Dad (my mom and sister and I reviewed the facts a bit more last weekend), I'm thinking it's best for everyone involved if I just throw it out. I doubt he remembers it exists, anyway, and I cannot conceive of any good coming of sending it to him now.
Why keep it? Why have something that reminds me of my father's chronic distancing from his family and his responsibilities if I really don't care? Does the presence of this funky dated thing he'd been given make up for his absence from my childhood? Or just serve to suggest to me on some level that I should be outraged, even though I'm not?
My sister said we'd been victims of negligence. I'd said, "Thank God for that." Again, ouch. But there it is.
I've also gotten rid of more clothes and some books and whatever optimism coffee had given me during the day and 2 glasses of wine had given me during dinner. But this last thing, the optimism, is quite likely to return of its own accord after some shut eye and/or after D and I actually sit down in the livingroom with no computer and no video games going and spend time together talking - a rare occurrence, these days.
The BIC time spent with the gals from the writer's group this morning did me no end of good, too. Their encouragement, sympathy and suggestions all were very much appreciated. I think a very creative country is on the horizon. I just have to slogging through the cold, lonely Derth of Enthusiasm to get there.
I've kept the mile club certificate for about two years (since I unearthed it among other paperwork), planning on sending it to my dad for his amusement. But it's an awkward shape, and while I didn't want to fold it, I also obviously never went to the trouble of buying an envelope that it would fit in or rolling it to send to my dad. With my new understanding of Dad (my mom and sister and I reviewed the facts a bit more last weekend), I'm thinking it's best for everyone involved if I just throw it out. I doubt he remembers it exists, anyway, and I cannot conceive of any good coming of sending it to him now.
Why keep it? Why have something that reminds me of my father's chronic distancing from his family and his responsibilities if I really don't care? Does the presence of this funky dated thing he'd been given make up for his absence from my childhood? Or just serve to suggest to me on some level that I should be outraged, even though I'm not?
My sister said we'd been victims of negligence. I'd said, "Thank God for that." Again, ouch. But there it is.
I've also gotten rid of more clothes and some books and whatever optimism coffee had given me during the day and 2 glasses of wine had given me during dinner. But this last thing, the optimism, is quite likely to return of its own accord after some shut eye and/or after D and I actually sit down in the livingroom with no computer and no video games going and spend time together talking - a rare occurrence, these days.
The BIC time spent with the gals from the writer's group this morning did me no end of good, too. Their encouragement, sympathy and suggestions all were very much appreciated. I think a very creative country is on the horizon. I just have to slogging through the cold, lonely Derth of Enthusiasm to get there.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
What is this?
It's sometimes hard for me to tell what is depression, what is discouragement, and what is just plain sleepiness. I wind down after 8pm, and by 10pm I'm done. I'm sure I've said this before. Yes, it could be that my days normally start at 4:45am. But last night, I had a (fairly) full night's sleep, and today I did nothing more taxing than run the children around to dance & riding & do some housekeeping, and I feel so unable to think or do anything right now. And for me, stress and depression often lead to the desire to sleep. So it's hard to know what is what.
Nothing more to write now. I'm trying to honor this - this what? fallow? - time rather than beat myself up about it.
Nothing more to write now. I'm trying to honor this - this what? fallow? - time rather than beat myself up about it.
Friday, February 25, 2005
Home again, home again
Soooo... although it is technically Saturday early morning in California, if I were in Hawaii, it would not yet be midnight Friday night. And I have not yet gone to bed, so I'm back-dating this blog to show Friday.
We just got home. If I'd had internet access from Hwy. 5, I would have blogged there.
After helping S put her tooth under the pillow - she lost at breakfast in the Howard Johnson hotel room in Anaheim - I am blogging. I have not yet gotten in my pj's, haven't said hello to the rat & bird, haven't moved my bags to the bedroom (or even seen the bedroom), although D & I did unload the car. It is our custom to do so after every trip, no matter how exhausted we are. It's a carry-over from training he got from his father.
The ride north was uneventful but long.
It is, as always, very good to come home.
We just got home. If I'd had internet access from Hwy. 5, I would have blogged there.
After helping S put her tooth under the pillow - she lost at breakfast in the Howard Johnson hotel room in Anaheim - I am blogging. I have not yet gotten in my pj's, haven't said hello to the rat & bird, haven't moved my bags to the bedroom (or even seen the bedroom), although D & I did unload the car. It is our custom to do so after every trip, no matter how exhausted we are. It's a carry-over from training he got from his father.
The ride north was uneventful but long.
It is, as always, very good to come home.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Hotel rooms
Here's a confession for you:
Hotel rooms will always remind me of Science Fiction Conventions.
Why?
Because for 10 years in a row, I only saw hotel rooms at Science Fiction Conventions, or "Cons," as we geeks and recovering geeks and relapsed geeks call them.
If I weren't so falling-asleep-at-the-keyboard exhausted, I'd write more. Note to self: write about conventions and hotel rooms sometime.
Tomorrow morning we'll experience just a little more Disney and consumerism, and that should do it for about two years, I think.
Signing off...
Hotel rooms will always remind me of Science Fiction Conventions.
Why?
Because for 10 years in a row, I only saw hotel rooms at Science Fiction Conventions, or "Cons," as we geeks and recovering geeks and relapsed geeks call them.
If I weren't so falling-asleep-at-the-keyboard exhausted, I'd write more. Note to self: write about conventions and hotel rooms sometime.
Tomorrow morning we'll experience just a little more Disney and consumerism, and that should do it for about two years, I think.
Signing off...
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Day 3 of the Magic Kingdom
The girls are sitting on one of the hotel room's Queen beds, drawing pictures of one another and chatting cheerfully. D is dozing in a chair. I was sure that I would be too tired to post anything, and tonight might be the first night this year that I really resented the concept of writing daily in this blog.
But then I read my friends' blog entries (Julia, Suzanne, Clare), and I am re-inspired to stick to the plan and be a writer. They inspire me with their lives, their work, their spirits.
When I think about writing a poem, I think about observations I've made about the world around me. I think about writing about something simple and straightforward that actually means something so much more. Life's truths in a simple thing I've noticed at Disneyland, for example.
I wish I could post a real example of the example. But today, as yesterday and the day before, I was too busy living to write about living. I also must say that the company I keep makes a difference. If I were at Disneyland with Julia, Suzanne, or Clare, for example, I feel that we could sit at a table anywhere in the park and I could scrawl something clever or meaningful on a napkin and they would not only understand, they would support me. And I could share what I wrote later, and they'd get it. Not just the thought, but get the poem, too. An audience is very helpful for an artist.
I'm going to get offline and work on a poem now.
But then I read my friends' blog entries (Julia, Suzanne, Clare), and I am re-inspired to stick to the plan and be a writer. They inspire me with their lives, their work, their spirits.
When I think about writing a poem, I think about observations I've made about the world around me. I think about writing about something simple and straightforward that actually means something so much more. Life's truths in a simple thing I've noticed at Disneyland, for example.
I wish I could post a real example of the example. But today, as yesterday and the day before, I was too busy living to write about living. I also must say that the company I keep makes a difference. If I were at Disneyland with Julia, Suzanne, or Clare, for example, I feel that we could sit at a table anywhere in the park and I could scrawl something clever or meaningful on a napkin and they would not only understand, they would support me. And I could share what I wrote later, and they'd get it. Not just the thought, but get the poem, too. An audience is very helpful for an artist.
I'm going to get offline and work on a poem now.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Disneyland, day 2
This was the first full day at the Park, and it really wasn't a *full* full day, because I slept a little late, and therefore did a morning run a little late, and got the girls to the park a little while after it opened. D was still in the hotel bed until after that time, but I'd expected that and so wasn't really bothered by it.
The weather has not been cooperative. In fact, it's been dumping buckets off and on, which means fewer people in the lines, but it also means we're having to dress in layers to stay dry (and therefore warm), and that we must peel ourselves out of the ponchos and down coats and raincoats we're wearing to find ourselves again at the end of the day. We also played out that routine in the middle of the afternoon, because we'd had too few layers and were wet and chilled, and I'd taken the girls back to the hotel for a hot bath and dry clothes.
We've ridden plenty of rides. We've spent too much money on the food, even considering the fact that we're trying to eat food we have in the hotel room and healthy snacks I've brought to the park with me. We also have seen a show - a live production of Snow White, and the girls had some quality time with Mickey and Minnie when there wasn't a huge line. We've walked a lot, we've window shopped a little.
We've done most of the park without Mark and D, but we did meet up a couple of times and spent the last hour and a half at the park together, too. Tomorrow, D plans to get up early with us so we have a decent start at rides etc. before the crowds gather. I just hope it's not raining so hard tomorrow.
The girls are finally asleep, after a late dinner (which itself was after a nap in the hotel room). D is dozing in a chair, and I now plan to read, then hit the hay myself. We have not turned on the TV once. Hooray!
The weather has not been cooperative. In fact, it's been dumping buckets off and on, which means fewer people in the lines, but it also means we're having to dress in layers to stay dry (and therefore warm), and that we must peel ourselves out of the ponchos and down coats and raincoats we're wearing to find ourselves again at the end of the day. We also played out that routine in the middle of the afternoon, because we'd had too few layers and were wet and chilled, and I'd taken the girls back to the hotel for a hot bath and dry clothes.
We've ridden plenty of rides. We've spent too much money on the food, even considering the fact that we're trying to eat food we have in the hotel room and healthy snacks I've brought to the park with me. We also have seen a show - a live production of Snow White, and the girls had some quality time with Mickey and Minnie when there wasn't a huge line. We've walked a lot, we've window shopped a little.
We've done most of the park without Mark and D, but we did meet up a couple of times and spent the last hour and a half at the park together, too. Tomorrow, D plans to get up early with us so we have a decent start at rides etc. before the crowds gather. I just hope it's not raining so hard tomorrow.
The girls are finally asleep, after a late dinner (which itself was after a nap in the hotel room). D is dozing in a chair, and I now plan to read, then hit the hay myself. We have not turned on the TV once. Hooray!
Monday, February 21, 2005
Greetings from Anaheim
Yes, Anaheim. Exhausted child capital of the Western United States.
The girls and I made it to the hotel, and an hour or so later, to Disneyland. In the space of three drizzly hours, we went on six rides (with a break for hot chocolate and fritters in New Orleans square), met D and Mark, and stopped for a bite of pizza in Tomorrowland, and then we girls made our slow way back to the hotel: R carrying D's leftover pizza, and me carrying a passed out, bootless, S.
D and Mark stayed to close out the park (any minute now, they'll probaby start back to the hotel too.)
S was bootless because some time after we left the pizza joint (where she had fallen asleep in my lap), her pink rain boots had slipped off her feet. I didn't even notice this it until I was out of the park. I had turned around and we were making our slow way back, retracing our steps. And then I reached D by cell and found out he had the boots. That was a relief.
I have mixed feelings about the experiences the next few days will hold, but I'm also fascinated by the concept of trying to stay fully conscious of the present, of each moment, while in the midst of the commercial hype experience of the magic Kingdom, land of children melting down and parents bickering. In a sense, this is the perfect place to focus on nothing more than what is happening moment by moment. But it's also a place of many distractions and countless emotional triggers and manipulations. Observing and experiencing, while staying conscious of what's really important (which is none of this stuff) - now that'll be a neat trick.
I'd best sign off before I get any more incoherently philosophical, I suppose. Thank goodness for the hotel's high speed internet access so that I can continue my daily whatever-this-is.
The girls and I made it to the hotel, and an hour or so later, to Disneyland. In the space of three drizzly hours, we went on six rides (with a break for hot chocolate and fritters in New Orleans square), met D and Mark, and stopped for a bite of pizza in Tomorrowland, and then we girls made our slow way back to the hotel: R carrying D's leftover pizza, and me carrying a passed out, bootless, S.
D and Mark stayed to close out the park (any minute now, they'll probaby start back to the hotel too.)
S was bootless because some time after we left the pizza joint (where she had fallen asleep in my lap), her pink rain boots had slipped off her feet. I didn't even notice this it until I was out of the park. I had turned around and we were making our slow way back, retracing our steps. And then I reached D by cell and found out he had the boots. That was a relief.
I have mixed feelings about the experiences the next few days will hold, but I'm also fascinated by the concept of trying to stay fully conscious of the present, of each moment, while in the midst of the commercial hype experience of the magic Kingdom, land of children melting down and parents bickering. In a sense, this is the perfect place to focus on nothing more than what is happening moment by moment. But it's also a place of many distractions and countless emotional triggers and manipulations. Observing and experiencing, while staying conscious of what's really important (which is none of this stuff) - now that'll be a neat trick.
I'd best sign off before I get any more incoherently philosophical, I suppose. Thank goodness for the hotel's high speed internet access so that I can continue my daily whatever-this-is.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Massage Day
I had my second-ever massage today, again at my sister's house, again with the Greek-God-gorgeous masseur who uses Lomi Lomi technique. This massage was not unlike the one I had in August. I might have been slightly more relaxed, however, and this time, and the masseur and I chatted easily about energy work and being present and forgiveness and other Important topics.
Before the massage, I had run (5 miles) and after the massage, the girls and Aunt J and Mom and I went out to a late lunch. We ordered far too much food and took home tons, then didn't have dinner. It's now bedtime for the girls, and for Mom and me, too. We're beat! We'll be here tomorrow until around noon, then head to Disneyland for the afternoon/evening. D and his buddy will be driving down tomorrow and will meet us in Anaheim whenever they get there. With the promised free high-speed internet access in the hotel room, I hope to be able to blog more, and more thoughtfully, during the week.
After the massage, I felt especially freed up and closer to poetry than I'd been in a while. If I can continue that momentum, I'll have new work by the end of the week. Time and mood and discipline and inspiration are all critical elements for me. And by time, of course, I mean time alone. That should be an interesting thing to try to attain in Disneyland!
Before the massage, I had run (5 miles) and after the massage, the girls and Aunt J and Mom and I went out to a late lunch. We ordered far too much food and took home tons, then didn't have dinner. It's now bedtime for the girls, and for Mom and me, too. We're beat! We'll be here tomorrow until around noon, then head to Disneyland for the afternoon/evening. D and his buddy will be driving down tomorrow and will meet us in Anaheim whenever they get there. With the promised free high-speed internet access in the hotel room, I hope to be able to blog more, and more thoughtfully, during the week.
After the massage, I felt especially freed up and closer to poetry than I'd been in a while. If I can continue that momentum, I'll have new work by the end of the week. Time and mood and discipline and inspiration are all critical elements for me. And by time, of course, I mean time alone. That should be an interesting thing to try to attain in Disneyland!
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Back in Hemet
Well, it was a good test of the new car, driving 500 miles in pouring rain. We were in the car from 6pm-midnight and again 8am-1:30, stopping only for meals and pitstops at exotic places. I'm trying to just fit in a quick post while we're getting a simple dinner together here at Mom's, and so I can't tell the off-road adventures of finding a bathroom in the middle of Nowhere, California in the pouring rain. But I will write it, when I don't have family members in the next room wondering where in the world I am!
Nice to be here, safe and sound, and to have had a long nap in the afternoon, too, while Mom and Aunt J watched the kids. They were in the next room, playing loudly, and still I slept like the dead on the couch. I must have needed it. :)
Nice to be here, safe and sound, and to have had a long nap in the afternoon, too, while Mom and Aunt J watched the kids. They were in the next room, playing loudly, and still I slept like the dead on the couch. I must have needed it. :)
Friday, February 18, 2005
on the road soon...
I thought I'd better blog now, while I'm on my way out the door at work. I actually stopped work 30 minutes ago, in theory - but of course, it's taken me longer than that to leave.
I probably won't have a chance to blog until tomorrow night once I'm at my mom's. Until then!
I probably won't have a chance to blog until tomorrow night once I'm at my mom's. Until then!
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Pre trip thoughts
I don't have any. Ha!
Actually, I'm just trying to keep from experiencing either the pre-trip, I'm-not-ready! panic and the pre-trip exhausted-but-still-awake daze. Making a list of things to do has helped.
I'll feel much better once I've confirmed hotel reservations for tomorrow night. That way, I know that I won't need to make the drive from here to Hemet in one straight shot, so if we start out later than 4pm (which we will), it won't be 2am before we stop to sleep.
Two days ago, I got rid of an aboriginal wall hanging I've had down for years but haven't had on the wall for years. Yesterday, it was a woolen seat belt thingy that I've never really used. Today, it was old dresses and costumes that are musty and ridiculous to keep. Not to worry - the good stuff will be donated and is not just being trashed. (That robin, for example, will go to a good home, Suzanne.)
Actually, I'm just trying to keep from experiencing either the pre-trip, I'm-not-ready! panic and the pre-trip exhausted-but-still-awake daze. Making a list of things to do has helped.
I'll feel much better once I've confirmed hotel reservations for tomorrow night. That way, I know that I won't need to make the drive from here to Hemet in one straight shot, so if we start out later than 4pm (which we will), it won't be 2am before we stop to sleep.
Two days ago, I got rid of an aboriginal wall hanging I've had down for years but haven't had on the wall for years. Yesterday, it was a woolen seat belt thingy that I've never really used. Today, it was old dresses and costumes that are musty and ridiculous to keep. Not to worry - the good stuff will be donated and is not just being trashed. (That robin, for example, will go to a good home, Suzanne.)
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Software troubleshooting
Last night a colleague made changes to the database that we use all day at work, and as a result, there were a number of confused users and a number of broken things that needed mending this morning. The changes were very helpful and a long time coming, but I spent nearly all my day (when I wasn't training the newest hire) trying to trouble-shoot the problems, document them, alert users, and then help the colleague fix the problems.
My last job was all about fixing problems and troubleshooting software, and I really miss those tasks. If I could have a positionthat was more analytical (but still had all the lovely perks of my current job), I'd take it. I think it's the critic in me and the detective in me and the co-dependent "make everything better" in me all combined.
Countdown to vacation: two days, and I'm now focusing on doing all the laundry so we have plenty of choices to use when packing light for the trip. The other things: like running, selling my car, organizing all my belongings, and cleaning the whole house, are already fading on my list of to-do's.
My last job was all about fixing problems and troubleshooting software, and I really miss those tasks. If I could have a positionthat was more analytical (but still had all the lovely perks of my current job), I'd take it. I think it's the critic in me and the detective in me and the co-dependent "make everything better" in me all combined.
Countdown to vacation: two days, and I'm now focusing on doing all the laundry so we have plenty of choices to use when packing light for the trip. The other things: like running, selling my car, organizing all my belongings, and cleaning the whole house, are already fading on my list of to-do's.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
A long day, nearly over
If I ignore the mountain of clean laundry in my bedroom one more day, I can go to bed now. I ran around a little bit like the proverbial headless chicken today, but everything worked out in the end. I'm still here, aren't I?
The day went something like this:
Worked 8 hours, made a quick stop at home for things I needed for the afternoon, got S at daycare, got R and her classmate Jacqui at school, took the 3 of them to Whole Foods for a snack, took Jacqui to her dentist appointment., left her there (her mother would be there to pick her up after the appointment), ran R to her riding lessons, started to go to Kaiser to pick up R's vitamin+fluoride prescription, came to my senses a mile down the road, went back to the lesson, hung out in the car with S while it rained a bitterly cold rain, tried to write on my laptop while she tried to distract me, helped R get the horse cleaned up after her lesson, dashed home, met the babysitter (Jacqui's older sister) and her mom waiting at my house, ran a bath for R & put dinner an organic cheese pizza in the oven & broccoli in the microwave to steam, printed my writer group colleague's new pages, made a CD of my bit of revision (but didn't have time to review or print), went to writer's group meeting, came back, took sleeping S and sleepy R in the car with me to drive the babysitter home, came back & got the girls (now both sleeping) tucked into bed, did the dishes, read more of my new book If the Buddha Got Stuck (thanks Tom), cleaned up a few things in the dining room and kitchen, blogged.
Will be back at work in less than 7 hours, training a new hire for the day on top of my usual daily duties.
The good news here is that while all the above is a lot, taken one moment at a time, it's not a big deal. (Of course, the other good news is that this kind of day is now very much the exception rather than the norm.) Also, part of the reason this week is so cramped is that next week, I'll be on vacation in southern California. Vacation. For a week. Vaaaaay-caaaaay-shun.
The day went something like this:
Worked 8 hours, made a quick stop at home for things I needed for the afternoon, got S at daycare, got R and her classmate Jacqui at school, took the 3 of them to Whole Foods for a snack, took Jacqui to her dentist appointment., left her there (her mother would be there to pick her up after the appointment), ran R to her riding lessons, started to go to Kaiser to pick up R's vitamin+fluoride prescription, came to my senses a mile down the road, went back to the lesson, hung out in the car with S while it rained a bitterly cold rain, tried to write on my laptop while she tried to distract me, helped R get the horse cleaned up after her lesson, dashed home, met the babysitter (Jacqui's older sister) and her mom waiting at my house, ran a bath for R & put dinner an organic cheese pizza in the oven & broccoli in the microwave to steam, printed my writer group colleague's new pages, made a CD of my bit of revision (but didn't have time to review or print), went to writer's group meeting, came back, took sleeping S and sleepy R in the car with me to drive the babysitter home, came back & got the girls (now both sleeping) tucked into bed, did the dishes, read more of my new book If the Buddha Got Stuck (thanks Tom), cleaned up a few things in the dining room and kitchen, blogged.
Will be back at work in less than 7 hours, training a new hire for the day on top of my usual daily duties.
The good news here is that while all the above is a lot, taken one moment at a time, it's not a big deal. (Of course, the other good news is that this kind of day is now very much the exception rather than the norm.) Also, part of the reason this week is so cramped is that next week, I'll be on vacation in southern California. Vacation. For a week. Vaaaaay-caaaaay-shun.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Valentine's Day
It's Valentine's Day.
Two co-workers gave me little candy treats, which was nice. I passed them out to my family so the dinner table had *something* festive on it. It was the second night in a row that I'd made a real meal. Tonight was steak (for D), homemade pesto ("puts hair on your chest" variety), pasta, asparagus and hollandaise sauce. And wine for the grownups - a cheap Australian cab. Last night, I actually doubled my entire cooking repertoire by adding two new items: ratatouille, and polenta. (Thank you, Moosewood cookbook.) The family actually enjoyed it, although S would not touch the ratatouille, even though she likes all of the ingredients on their own, except the red bell pepper. Maybe next time.
The very best part of both of these meals was that D did the dishes afterwards. I am amazed by how willing I am to cook a good meal if I don't have to do the dishes too. I've explained this to D, and I think we've got a new understanding. Who knows - this time next year, I might be able to make six items!
I was a straight A, occasional B+, student until 8th grade when I took Home Economics and received my first and only C on my report card. As I remember, I just couldn't be bothered to care about sewing a perfectly straight line or making a burrito in the electric skillet just so. I figured good enough was fine in those areas, I guess. In the interest of full disclosure, I explained this to D before he married me. And fortunately, even though he was raised by a stay-at-home French woman in a pristine house with daily gourmet meals elegantly presented to him, he never criticizes me for my sub-sub-Martha abilities. Phew!
Non-sequitur: I went to the gym and ran for a bit on the treadmill after work, which was also nice.
In honor of the Hallmark-imposed holiday, D gave me flowers, and I gave him flowers, and we gave each other our undying love. Again. I know what you're thinking: you're thinking, "How boring. Twenty-two years together [we count the year we broke up], and they still are ga-ga over each other. Ho. Hum." It's a burden, but somebody's gotta do it.
Non-sequitur #2: Today I got rid of a little plastic pill case with the days of the week in raised print and abbreviated in Braille on 8 little sections. I know there are only 7 days of the week, but the pill case is rectangular, and the openings are symmetrical. The last one is labeled "8th day." What pill does one take on the 8th day, I wonder? I mean, the 8th day never comes, does it? Not if you're counting M-F. Or even if you repeat one day, what if your vacation lasts 9 days? Then what? You can see how completely impractical this case is and why I must get rid of it.
Actually, I must get rid of it because I got a replacement one that's larger before I went to Japan. I take several pills a day, and when you add in the girls' vitamins+fluoride, the little case didn't cut it anyway. And finally, it's yet one more thing that I would only have kept because it belonged to my maternal grandmother. But I have more important things to remember her by.
Here are the pills I take daily:
Glucosamine + chondroitin for my joints
Iron because I tend to get anemic otherwise, and for some inexplicable reason, iron works for me like fiber in my diet and my digestive system shuts down without it. Go figure.
Calcium to help prevent osteoporosis
Extra C to keep the immune system up
A multi-vitamin for anything I missed :)
Here is what I got rid of yesterday:
A white slip that never quite fit me right to begin with, and which I really don't need now that the gingham dress is gone too.
Here's an interesting fact:
I sat down thinking I had nothing to write and thinking the most I would do is say that I didn't feel like sharing anything and how I need alone time blahblah and don't get enough of it blahblahblah. But instead, actual sentences came out. Amen to that.
Two co-workers gave me little candy treats, which was nice. I passed them out to my family so the dinner table had *something* festive on it. It was the second night in a row that I'd made a real meal. Tonight was steak (for D), homemade pesto ("puts hair on your chest" variety), pasta, asparagus and hollandaise sauce. And wine for the grownups - a cheap Australian cab. Last night, I actually doubled my entire cooking repertoire by adding two new items: ratatouille, and polenta. (Thank you, Moosewood cookbook.) The family actually enjoyed it, although S would not touch the ratatouille, even though she likes all of the ingredients on their own, except the red bell pepper. Maybe next time.
The very best part of both of these meals was that D did the dishes afterwards. I am amazed by how willing I am to cook a good meal if I don't have to do the dishes too. I've explained this to D, and I think we've got a new understanding. Who knows - this time next year, I might be able to make six items!
I was a straight A, occasional B+, student until 8th grade when I took Home Economics and received my first and only C on my report card. As I remember, I just couldn't be bothered to care about sewing a perfectly straight line or making a burrito in the electric skillet just so. I figured good enough was fine in those areas, I guess. In the interest of full disclosure, I explained this to D before he married me. And fortunately, even though he was raised by a stay-at-home French woman in a pristine house with daily gourmet meals elegantly presented to him, he never criticizes me for my sub-sub-Martha abilities. Phew!
Non-sequitur: I went to the gym and ran for a bit on the treadmill after work, which was also nice.
In honor of the Hallmark-imposed holiday, D gave me flowers, and I gave him flowers, and we gave each other our undying love. Again. I know what you're thinking: you're thinking, "How boring. Twenty-two years together [we count the year we broke up], and they still are ga-ga over each other. Ho. Hum." It's a burden, but somebody's gotta do it.
Non-sequitur #2: Today I got rid of a little plastic pill case with the days of the week in raised print and abbreviated in Braille on 8 little sections. I know there are only 7 days of the week, but the pill case is rectangular, and the openings are symmetrical. The last one is labeled "8th day." What pill does one take on the 8th day, I wonder? I mean, the 8th day never comes, does it? Not if you're counting M-F. Or even if you repeat one day, what if your vacation lasts 9 days? Then what? You can see how completely impractical this case is and why I must get rid of it.
Actually, I must get rid of it because I got a replacement one that's larger before I went to Japan. I take several pills a day, and when you add in the girls' vitamins+fluoride, the little case didn't cut it anyway. And finally, it's yet one more thing that I would only have kept because it belonged to my maternal grandmother. But I have more important things to remember her by.
Here are the pills I take daily:
Glucosamine + chondroitin for my joints
Iron because I tend to get anemic otherwise, and for some inexplicable reason, iron works for me like fiber in my diet and my digestive system shuts down without it. Go figure.
Calcium to help prevent osteoporosis
Extra C to keep the immune system up
A multi-vitamin for anything I missed :)
Here is what I got rid of yesterday:
A white slip that never quite fit me right to begin with, and which I really don't need now that the gingham dress is gone too.
Here's an interesting fact:
I sat down thinking I had nothing to write and thinking the most I would do is say that I didn't feel like sharing anything and how I need alone time blahblah and don't get enough of it blahblahblah. But instead, actual sentences came out. Amen to that.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Nothing new to say
But here's something old. The thought's appealing, although I won't be following through on it. Today.
i will throw out all my papers
every bill letter poem story
invoice report card application form newspaper
clipping scrap of wrapping paper
card print record receipt notebook slip
post it note
and trash each new one that comes
read or unread
dear or free or worthless
i will let them go before i have even held them
and why not?
and what freedom
then
what freedom
- 10/00
i will throw out all my papers
every bill letter poem story
invoice report card application form newspaper
clipping scrap of wrapping paper
card print record receipt notebook slip
post it note
and trash each new one that comes
read or unread
dear or free or worthless
i will let them go before i have even held them
and why not?
and what freedom
then
what freedom
- 10/00
Saturday, February 12, 2005
OK
Today I took the girls to see Oklahoma at the Orpheum theater. We had balcony tickets and R sat with a friend from school & his mom, while S & I sat two rows up, about as high up in the theater you could go. It was a very good production. I know some musicals - I was in The Wizard of Oz in 7th grade, and The Sound of Music in 8th grade (I played Maria - it was the high point of my career), and then in college I was in West Side Story. But I'd never seen Oklahoma and didn't even know the story before today. R had asked me, "What's this going to be about, anyway?" and all I could say was that I thought there was a probably a boy-meets-girl element to it. There was. As well as a few other things that I'm hoping pretty much went over the girls' heads.
S did pretty well sitting still. She only whispered a few times, "Mommy-mommy? Mommymommymommy, when's it going to change? if too much time had elapsed between scene changes. After the show, she said she'd liked it, but she also said it was violent. Oops.
(You know, I was going to link the above word "Orpheum" to the theater site, and found instead photos of the urinals at the theater. And then, compelled by morbid curiosity, I spent I don't care to admit how long looking at the urinal.net site. Or at least, much of it. You want culture or worthwhile musings? Go to my friend's blogs - listed to the right. You want a site entirely devoted to pictures of urinals all around the world? Well, here ya go.)
On a more significant note, a couple of days ago, I got my latest copy of APJ, The American Poetry Journal, with a short poem of mine in it. I went to the web site to see if it had been updated, and I see that the editor mentioned my name there, too. D and I just had a short conversation about my poetry. I feel like it's been about five years since I wrote anything of worth. In all that time, I could have been working on honing my craft, maturing as a poet, pounding out the one thousand mediocre lines it might take for me to write one really good piece. So what does this whining mean? It means that I feel behind. And what am I going to do about it? Write. Now.
Poetry, meditation, sleep.
Tomorrow I work 6am-2pm.
Yesterday I got rid of a wooden giraffe mask. I don't remember who gave it to me.
Today I got rid of a blue gingham dress I haven't worn in years.
S did pretty well sitting still. She only whispered a few times, "Mommy-mommy? Mommymommymommy, when's it going to change? if too much time had elapsed between scene changes. After the show, she said she'd liked it, but she also said it was violent. Oops.
(You know, I was going to link the above word "Orpheum" to the theater site, and found instead photos of the urinals at the theater. And then, compelled by morbid curiosity, I spent I don't care to admit how long looking at the urinal.net site. Or at least, much of it. You want culture or worthwhile musings? Go to my friend's blogs - listed to the right. You want a site entirely devoted to pictures of urinals all around the world? Well, here ya go.)
On a more significant note, a couple of days ago, I got my latest copy of APJ, The American Poetry Journal, with a short poem of mine in it. I went to the web site to see if it had been updated, and I see that the editor mentioned my name there, too. D and I just had a short conversation about my poetry. I feel like it's been about five years since I wrote anything of worth. In all that time, I could have been working on honing my craft, maturing as a poet, pounding out the one thousand mediocre lines it might take for me to write one really good piece. So what does this whining mean? It means that I feel behind. And what am I going to do about it? Write. Now.
Poetry, meditation, sleep.
Tomorrow I work 6am-2pm.
Yesterday I got rid of a wooden giraffe mask. I don't remember who gave it to me.
Today I got rid of a blue gingham dress I haven't worn in years.
Friday, February 11, 2005
FRIIIIIDAY!
It's been a long week - for me, the kids & for D, who said he felt beaten into the ground by work every day this week. Ouch.
But the weekend has begun in fine, fine form with dinner out at a great sushi joint downtown while friends watched the girls in exchange for us having watched their son for 4 Wednesdays while they took parenting an evening parenting class. They'd also given us a gift certificate for the sushi restaurant. It doesn't get much better than that. I may never need to eat again. (Gee. I've never said that before.)
It's almost 10:30 and I'm off for my 30 minutes [note to self: do not fall asleep on the couch this time] meditative reading. Raw fish in my stomach while I read about Buddhism. That'll work.
But the weekend has begun in fine, fine form with dinner out at a great sushi joint downtown while friends watched the girls in exchange for us having watched their son for 4 Wednesdays while they took parenting an evening parenting class. They'd also given us a gift certificate for the sushi restaurant. It doesn't get much better than that. I may never need to eat again. (Gee. I've never said that before.)
It's almost 10:30 and I'm off for my 30 minutes [note to self: do not fall asleep on the couch this time] meditative reading. Raw fish in my stomach while I read about Buddhism. That'll work.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Peace
I am sleepy, and I am so ready to be in bed and asleep that I almost resent "having" to write. But I chose to do this for a valid reason, and I will continue to do it. And not just for the sushi that L said she'd get me.
Quiet meditative time is a great thing to do at the end of the day. It brings such peace. I will one day soon start my day that way as well.
Today I got rid of a glass (or perhaps porcelain) figurine of a round-bellied robin. I don't know where it came from. I am not even going to go get it and describe it in more detail here. I'll get it off the shelf only to put it aside for the rummage sale the girls school holds in May.
I feel like I've started a very important journey. At last.
Quiet meditative time is a great thing to do at the end of the day. It brings such peace. I will one day soon start my day that way as well.
Today I got rid of a glass (or perhaps porcelain) figurine of a round-bellied robin. I don't know where it came from. I am not even going to go get it and describe it in more detail here. I'll get it off the shelf only to put it aside for the rummage sale the girls school holds in May.
I feel like I've started a very important journey. At last.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Ash Wednesday & Chinese New Year
What does it mean? The start of both Lent and the Year of the Chicken on the same day?
I usually give up something for Lent. In the past, it was often chocolate, or coffee. Last year, if I remember correctly, it was meat.
Besides the fact that I'm not Catholic, and in fact, I'm not even a practicing Presbyterian at the moment, I do think there's something wrong in just making the 40+ days before Easter an excuse to diet. I don't think I'm fooling God or myself there. It's a sacrifice, yes. But for the wrong reasons.
And I do think setting aside a special period of time in the year as sacred is a good thing. Maybe it's not just coincidence that the Lenten period is more than long enough to establish a habit. If I was able tp start writing daily - well, at least posting a sentence or two daily - after just 3 weeks of doing it, what else could I develop the habit to do?
Here's what I want to try, starting today:
1) 30 minutes of quiet time a day - either reading some spiritual teaching or book (Tolle, for example, or the new Charlotte Kasl that my birth father sent me) - or meditating, or a little of both. The trick here will be not falling asleep while I'm doing it.
2) Getting rid of one thing per day.
Today I got rid of my old, old, old blue sweat pants.
The quiet time starts right
about
now.
I usually give up something for Lent. In the past, it was often chocolate, or coffee. Last year, if I remember correctly, it was meat.
Besides the fact that I'm not Catholic, and in fact, I'm not even a practicing Presbyterian at the moment, I do think there's something wrong in just making the 40+ days before Easter an excuse to diet. I don't think I'm fooling God or myself there. It's a sacrifice, yes. But for the wrong reasons.
And I do think setting aside a special period of time in the year as sacred is a good thing. Maybe it's not just coincidence that the Lenten period is more than long enough to establish a habit. If I was able tp start writing daily - well, at least posting a sentence or two daily - after just 3 weeks of doing it, what else could I develop the habit to do?
Here's what I want to try, starting today:
1) 30 minutes of quiet time a day - either reading some spiritual teaching or book (Tolle, for example, or the new Charlotte Kasl that my birth father sent me) - or meditating, or a little of both. The trick here will be not falling asleep while I'm doing it.
2) Getting rid of one thing per day.
Today I got rid of my old, old, old blue sweat pants.
The quiet time starts right
about
now.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
"placeholder" post
Just a note to say I'm here, all is well.
D got our two computers hooked up to a router which means not only do we have DSL, but we can both be online at the same time. I tell you what. Modern technology is sure cool. He was looking at pictures of Titan's moon on the Mac while I was watching a Dar Williams video online on the PC, and we were both giddy with excitement that all this was possible. Who'd've thunk it?
D got our two computers hooked up to a router which means not only do we have DSL, but we can both be online at the same time. I tell you what. Modern technology is sure cool. He was looking at pictures of Titan's moon on the Mac while I was watching a Dar Williams video online on the PC, and we were both giddy with excitement that all this was possible. Who'd've thunk it?
Monday, February 07, 2005
Spring cleaning
This afternoon & tonight the girls and I moved the futon out of S's room and moved it to the livingroom to give the princess more space in her royal chamber. She ended up with so much room, we moved Lemon's cage to her room from R's room, to make R's room roomier too. If I weren't so asleep (and I hadn't just written then accidentally closed the window on & deleted this post!), I'd make a Dr. Seuss story out of it.
The girls sorted things into bags of keep/toss/donate, but I still have to go through them to make sure I don't accidentally throw away a family heirloom or donate a rubber-band-and-clay sculpture-of-the-hour. Two downsides to having such creative children are (1) the amount of artistic media they use, some of which used to be handy household items before they were added to a collage, and (2) the quantity of artistic pieces they produce. I mean, it makes me think of Mrs. daVinci: "Lee-OH-nar-DOH! Will you please stop leaving little clay horses in the bread oven?!"
I also made some changes to the livingroom that seemed necessary after the move of the futon. We'll see how they look in the honest, unforgiving light of day. Not that I was being creative or anything. I leave that to the rest of the family.
Sure.
The girls sorted things into bags of keep/toss/donate, but I still have to go through them to make sure I don't accidentally throw away a family heirloom or donate a rubber-band-and-clay sculpture-of-the-hour. Two downsides to having such creative children are (1) the amount of artistic media they use, some of which used to be handy household items before they were added to a collage, and (2) the quantity of artistic pieces they produce. I mean, it makes me think of Mrs. daVinci: "Lee-OH-nar-DOH! Will you please stop leaving little clay horses in the bread oven?!"
I also made some changes to the livingroom that seemed necessary after the move of the futon. We'll see how they look in the honest, unforgiving light of day. Not that I was being creative or anything. I leave that to the rest of the family.
Sure.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
The big stuff behind me...
It sure feels good to be on the other side of both the Auction and the half marathon. The run went well - much better than last year at the same event, which was the first time I tried a half-marathon. The last 3 miles weren't torture, I didn't have to walk at all, and I have no blisters or sore marks from clothes rubbing, as I have had in the past. Buying new, appropriate clothing paid off, as did the training. I trimmed four or five minutes off of my time from previous halfs, but it felt like more somehow.
Because there were over 4,000 people running this race, I didn't even pass the Start line until a minute after the official start, so I think in the end, my pace was about 11.5 minutes per mile. This is slow - about 90% of the people there ran faster than that, and the finishing runners did about 5 minutes per mile. Heck, they could have run the race and then had a latte and gourmet breakfast, played a thoughtful game of chess and napped before I made it to the finish line. But the whole race, I told myself I was only running to run, not to beat anyone - not really to even beat my old time - and that my goal was to run strong. Phew! It's over, and it feels like I succeeded in what I set out to do.
It's also such a beautiful course. Really gorgeous, and mostly downhill: through Golden Gate park surrounded by redwoods and eucalyptus, past beautiful gardens, the Tea House, and even a field of bison (much to my surprise), and then about 2.5 miles along the Pacific Ocean, beyond the pump station and almost to the zoo, and another 2.5 miles back and finally up the only real hill of the course, which I pounded up and passed people on to have a strong finish. Last year, it rained the whole time. This year, it was so beautiful, I would have gone to the beach and still been warm. I tried to just enjoy my surroundings, and told myself that it was going like a walk through the park - only slightly faster and for a long time. Actually, with my pace, it is only slightly faster than a walk!
I made it to a very short BIC time at the cafe with Julia, then just hung out for the afternoon, resting a little on the couch with a sleepy S before going out to the pet store for everything from millet and vitamins for the bird, to a salt lick for Beatrice the rat and a toothbrush for Albion the dog.
Yummy dinner of Chinese food, more water (I've been drinking all day), and bedtime for the girls & me. I was too sleepy to stay up past 8, but once again, I got up only to blog. Now back to bed!
Because there were over 4,000 people running this race, I didn't even pass the Start line until a minute after the official start, so I think in the end, my pace was about 11.5 minutes per mile. This is slow - about 90% of the people there ran faster than that, and the finishing runners did about 5 minutes per mile. Heck, they could have run the race and then had a latte and gourmet breakfast, played a thoughtful game of chess and napped before I made it to the finish line. But the whole race, I told myself I was only running to run, not to beat anyone - not really to even beat my old time - and that my goal was to run strong. Phew! It's over, and it feels like I succeeded in what I set out to do.
It's also such a beautiful course. Really gorgeous, and mostly downhill: through Golden Gate park surrounded by redwoods and eucalyptus, past beautiful gardens, the Tea House, and even a field of bison (much to my surprise), and then about 2.5 miles along the Pacific Ocean, beyond the pump station and almost to the zoo, and another 2.5 miles back and finally up the only real hill of the course, which I pounded up and passed people on to have a strong finish. Last year, it rained the whole time. This year, it was so beautiful, I would have gone to the beach and still been warm. I tried to just enjoy my surroundings, and told myself that it was going like a walk through the park - only slightly faster and for a long time. Actually, with my pace, it is only slightly faster than a walk!
I made it to a very short BIC time at the cafe with Julia, then just hung out for the afternoon, resting a little on the couch with a sleepy S before going out to the pet store for everything from millet and vitamins for the bird, to a salt lick for Beatrice the rat and a toothbrush for Albion the dog.
Yummy dinner of Chinese food, more water (I've been drinking all day), and bedtime for the girls & me. I was too sleepy to stay up past 8, but once again, I got up only to blog. Now back to bed!
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Pre race eve
Thanks to those of you who have wished me luck for tomorrows half-marathon jog, (including my birth dad in his wonderful letter which arrived today!). I'm a little late getting to bed, but I'll sleep well now that the school auction is finished (for me, anyway). I think it was a great success, and I'll describe it in greater detail tomorrow. I'm sure people are still bidding hundreds and hundreds of dollars on the great class art projects, like felted wall hangings and watercolor collages, and the quilt that R's class produced. Beautiful stuff, and a great way for the school to make money. I bid on and won a date for the girls with their respective teachers, and a romantic getaway in Point Arena including dinner out and a tour of a lighthouse. Now I'll just have to find a weekend when we can go and somewhere for the kids to stay.
One more glass of water to hydrate myself before the morning, and then to bed!
One more glass of water to hydrate myself before the morning, and then to bed!
Friday, February 04, 2005
Friday night, sleepy
The thought is that tonight I will sleep as long & well as I can because tomorrow night, I'll be too nervous about Sunday morning to sleep, Sunday morning being the half marathon.
And yet again, I drag myself from the "big bed" where the girls & I have crashed, so that I can stagger to the keyboard, the drool still hardly dry on the side of my face, and sit down at the keyboard with only one eye open against it's harsh unfeeling white glare. And write.
Uh. Yeah. That'll do.
And yet again, I drag myself from the "big bed" where the girls & I have crashed, so that I can stagger to the keyboard, the drool still hardly dry on the side of my face, and sit down at the keyboard with only one eye open against it's harsh unfeeling white glare. And write.
Uh. Yeah. That'll do.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Salsa red
Salsa red is the color of my new car. After six months of putting my name on a list, I was able to pick up the Prius today. For the most part, I'm just selfishly excited about having this car. I mean, I feel so American about it, so consumer greedy, materialist, self-indulgent - like some of the guys at work who compulsively think about cars, talk about cars, look up pictures of cool new cars online, put pictures of cars on their desktops, know car stats like baseball stats - horsepower, fuel injection, liters, maximum speed. Bells and whistles. I'm very proud of myself for having a hybrid. And salsa red, at that. Who'd have thought?
On the other hand, though, I think of the expense of it all, and that it'll take me years and years to pay it off, and that until I sell the 2 year old Escape, I own two cars - something that I'd vowed I'd never do. I think about how what I've spent on this car would keep a respectably sized third-world village in food and clothing for a decade. I think about all the dangers of caring about a thing like this, about being so proud about what is after all just a possession.
And then I remember that this particular possession will get anywhere from fifty to sixty miles per gallon, and that it's a car (all we need) instead of a mini-SUV, which after two years, I can say we don't need. (I realize that my birth mom and her husband just got a new Escape and that they're as excited about it as I am about this Prius - but they'll really use four wheel drive. It's not wasted on them.) And I remember that this car has driver and front passenger seat-mounted side and front and rear side curtain airbags, Smart Key entry System (I only have to walk to the car & the key in my purse sends a signal and unlocks it), HID headlamps, integrated fog lamps, Vehicle Stability Control, and a battery with a 10-year, 100K mile warranty. And that at a stoplight, it goes silent as the gas engine completely shuts off. Zero emission. Yeah. And it's salsa red. How kewl is that?
The bad karma car salesman story goes like this:
I put my name on lists with two dealerships. This is a questionable practice to begin with, but when you're told it will be four to nine months for a car to arrive, you get experimental. At the second dealership, the one I ended up going with, I put my name on the list as a casual backup plan on the off-chance that they could get me the vehicle sooner. I spent a total of 2 minutes with each salesman at the most. Just enough time to give them my name and contact information. And that was it. I never saw them again for 6 months. I did, however, make calls to both of them around the beginning of December, asking if I might be able to push and get the car before the end of the year to take advantage of a $2000 tax credit. Salesman #1, north of here, was helpful, but very slow to respond to messages, slightly impatient and patronizing, and whenever I called for him, I was either put on hold for five minutes or more, or completely cut off by accident. The receptionist was chronically confused, and the rental department they had (I'd rented the Prius from there for a day to test it out in August) was so uneducated about the car that they nearly talked me out of it with their doubts and ignorance.
Salesman #2, south of home (between home & work, and where the sales tax is a quarter percent lower), was decidedly slicker and more experienced. He was very quick to respond to every one of my calls, and he offered me slightly different packages or colors in case I wanted to go that route to get a quicker car. It could have annoyed me, but in this case it impressed me - as did the phone staff there. They were courteous and helpful. They knew my salesman's schedule, and never disconnected me while transferring my call to his voicemail. Ironically, his salesmanship made me think of getting the top-of-the-line navigational package, which comes with a 6-CD player, a GPS, and bluetooth technology. I'd told him I'd take either the middle package I'd originally signed up for or this fancy version. Then I called Salesman #1 and told him that I'd consider the high-end package too, if it would get me the car sooner.
I also asked for pricing for the cars before they came in. Salesman #1 gave me a vague answer, even after he'd had time to look it up. Salesman #2 called me a day quicker with an exact amount for each package.
Both salesmen gave me a heads up that my car would be arriving about two weeks ago. Salesman #1 said it was the navigational package I'd requested, in salsa red. Salesman #2 said it was the middle package I'd originally ordered, in salsa red. I had a choice to make: whether to go with the snazzy car from the less helpful salesperson at the inept dealership where the tax is higher, or go with the good-enough-for-me car from the better salesman at the competent dealership where the tax is lower.
When D pointed out that you can get a GPS for not a lot of money, and then carry it with you outside of the car too, and when I realized that I don't really want any more excuses (like bluetooth) to spend time on the phone while in the car, and that I can only listen to one CD at a time, anyway, I knew that there was no point in spending $5G more for a car from the salesman who wouldn't even give me an exact price.
I realized this, but I didn't call the northern salesman. A day passed, then two. (Or was it three? I admit it could have been three.) Of course, he called me before I could call him. He said, "I have great news for you! Today's your day! Your car is here!" I'm sure he heard from my voice that something was wrong. I asked him what package it was, and he said, "The navigational. In salsa red. Just like you requested." When I explained that actually, I'd had my name on another list and had decided to go with them, I thought he was going to blow a fuse. I mean, he was pissed. And justifiably so. But still. He could tell I felt guilty about it all, and he played right off that. He gave me a lecture about how "not okay" it was for me to do what I'd done, and how "We really hate it when you--when people--do this kind of thing." I apologized several times, and explained that one of the reasons I didn't feel too bad about it is that THERE'S A SIX MONTH WAITING PERIOD FOR THESE CARS and they have a list of about a hundred people hungry to buy this vehicle. I said, "I'm sure you can sell this car right away to someone else." And he said, "That's not the point." And I agree. He was right. I accept responsibility for my poor judgement and any hurt it caused him. But still. His last shot to me was an angry, "Well. You'll never get a loaner car from us. But that's your choice."
And it is.
But blech. For hours after I spoke to him, I was sure something terrible would happen to me. First of all, I half-expected some sort of punishment from the universe for my bad behavior. And besides that, even though he couldn't do anything over the phone, his anger and bad energy was so strong, I expected it to chase me down where I was.
It was a good lesson for practicing forgiveness of my own mistakes and detachment from other people’s created drama.
On the other hand, though, I think of the expense of it all, and that it'll take me years and years to pay it off, and that until I sell the 2 year old Escape, I own two cars - something that I'd vowed I'd never do. I think about how what I've spent on this car would keep a respectably sized third-world village in food and clothing for a decade. I think about all the dangers of caring about a thing like this, about being so proud about what is after all just a possession.
And then I remember that this particular possession will get anywhere from fifty to sixty miles per gallon, and that it's a car (all we need) instead of a mini-SUV, which after two years, I can say we don't need. (I realize that my birth mom and her husband just got a new Escape and that they're as excited about it as I am about this Prius - but they'll really use four wheel drive. It's not wasted on them.) And I remember that this car has driver and front passenger seat-mounted side and front and rear side curtain airbags, Smart Key entry System (I only have to walk to the car & the key in my purse sends a signal and unlocks it), HID headlamps, integrated fog lamps, Vehicle Stability Control, and a battery with a 10-year, 100K mile warranty. And that at a stoplight, it goes silent as the gas engine completely shuts off. Zero emission. Yeah. And it's salsa red. How kewl is that?
The bad karma car salesman story goes like this:
I put my name on lists with two dealerships. This is a questionable practice to begin with, but when you're told it will be four to nine months for a car to arrive, you get experimental. At the second dealership, the one I ended up going with, I put my name on the list as a casual backup plan on the off-chance that they could get me the vehicle sooner. I spent a total of 2 minutes with each salesman at the most. Just enough time to give them my name and contact information. And that was it. I never saw them again for 6 months. I did, however, make calls to both of them around the beginning of December, asking if I might be able to push and get the car before the end of the year to take advantage of a $2000 tax credit. Salesman #1, north of here, was helpful, but very slow to respond to messages, slightly impatient and patronizing, and whenever I called for him, I was either put on hold for five minutes or more, or completely cut off by accident. The receptionist was chronically confused, and the rental department they had (I'd rented the Prius from there for a day to test it out in August) was so uneducated about the car that they nearly talked me out of it with their doubts and ignorance.
Salesman #2, south of home (between home & work, and where the sales tax is a quarter percent lower), was decidedly slicker and more experienced. He was very quick to respond to every one of my calls, and he offered me slightly different packages or colors in case I wanted to go that route to get a quicker car. It could have annoyed me, but in this case it impressed me - as did the phone staff there. They were courteous and helpful. They knew my salesman's schedule, and never disconnected me while transferring my call to his voicemail. Ironically, his salesmanship made me think of getting the top-of-the-line navigational package, which comes with a 6-CD player, a GPS, and bluetooth technology. I'd told him I'd take either the middle package I'd originally signed up for or this fancy version. Then I called Salesman #1 and told him that I'd consider the high-end package too, if it would get me the car sooner.
I also asked for pricing for the cars before they came in. Salesman #1 gave me a vague answer, even after he'd had time to look it up. Salesman #2 called me a day quicker with an exact amount for each package.
Both salesmen gave me a heads up that my car would be arriving about two weeks ago. Salesman #1 said it was the navigational package I'd requested, in salsa red. Salesman #2 said it was the middle package I'd originally ordered, in salsa red. I had a choice to make: whether to go with the snazzy car from the less helpful salesperson at the inept dealership where the tax is higher, or go with the good-enough-for-me car from the better salesman at the competent dealership where the tax is lower.
When D pointed out that you can get a GPS for not a lot of money, and then carry it with you outside of the car too, and when I realized that I don't really want any more excuses (like bluetooth) to spend time on the phone while in the car, and that I can only listen to one CD at a time, anyway, I knew that there was no point in spending $5G more for a car from the salesman who wouldn't even give me an exact price.
I realized this, but I didn't call the northern salesman. A day passed, then two. (Or was it three? I admit it could have been three.) Of course, he called me before I could call him. He said, "I have great news for you! Today's your day! Your car is here!" I'm sure he heard from my voice that something was wrong. I asked him what package it was, and he said, "The navigational. In salsa red. Just like you requested." When I explained that actually, I'd had my name on another list and had decided to go with them, I thought he was going to blow a fuse. I mean, he was pissed. And justifiably so. But still. He could tell I felt guilty about it all, and he played right off that. He gave me a lecture about how "not okay" it was for me to do what I'd done, and how "We really hate it when you--when people--do this kind of thing." I apologized several times, and explained that one of the reasons I didn't feel too bad about it is that THERE'S A SIX MONTH WAITING PERIOD FOR THESE CARS and they have a list of about a hundred people hungry to buy this vehicle. I said, "I'm sure you can sell this car right away to someone else." And he said, "That's not the point." And I agree. He was right. I accept responsibility for my poor judgement and any hurt it caused him. But still. His last shot to me was an angry, "Well. You'll never get a loaner car from us. But that's your choice."
And it is.
But blech. For hours after I spoke to him, I was sure something terrible would happen to me. First of all, I half-expected some sort of punishment from the universe for my bad behavior. And besides that, even though he couldn't do anything over the phone, his anger and bad energy was so strong, I expected it to chase me down where I was.
It was a good lesson for practicing forgiveness of my own mistakes and detachment from other people’s created drama.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Running at 9pm
...really wakes one up for the necessary hour or so left of the day. Even if it's a very short run (about 2.5 mi).
I see that Julia and Suzanne continue to write very interesting, thoughtful and well-written posts about their lives and life in general. Well. You won't get any of that malarkey here. Just short, snippy things about how I'm too tired to write. Pathetic, but at least (and it's a really good at least), I have no trouble writing every day. The habit has taken hold.
Will I write about bad karma with the car salesman tomorrow? I guess so. Because I can't do it now. Because I'm pretty sure my eyes are going to fall out of their sockets and get my keyboard all icky if I keep typing now. There's something about getting up before 5am every morning that makes after 10pm at night difficult.
But I'm hereby challenging myself to write the car salesman confession/story tomorrow. And Julia has already dared me to write about the dead pet story. So that will have to come, too.
Adrienne's comment to my post a couple of days ago reminds me of the iguana carcass in the freezer story, too, but I'll spare you the rest of those details.
And on that note, say "bonne nuit."
I see that Julia and Suzanne continue to write very interesting, thoughtful and well-written posts about their lives and life in general. Well. You won't get any of that malarkey here. Just short, snippy things about how I'm too tired to write. Pathetic, but at least (and it's a really good at least), I have no trouble writing every day. The habit has taken hold.
Will I write about bad karma with the car salesman tomorrow? I guess so. Because I can't do it now. Because I'm pretty sure my eyes are going to fall out of their sockets and get my keyboard all icky if I keep typing now. There's something about getting up before 5am every morning that makes after 10pm at night difficult.
But I'm hereby challenging myself to write the car salesman confession/story tomorrow. And Julia has already dared me to write about the dead pet story. So that will have to come, too.
Adrienne's comment to my post a couple of days ago reminds me of the iguana carcass in the freezer story, too, but I'll spare you the rest of those details.
And on that note, say "bonne nuit."
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Blog. Sleep. In that order.
Anything I want to write right now feels too much like complaining. So I'm going to count my blessings instead.
Here are some:
a warm, safe, quiet home
a healthy family sleeping in their beds in the warm, safe, quiet home
a bed waiting for me to sleep in, too
a job to go back to tomorrow even though I could not drag myself there today
the moon, the stars, and the daffodils blooming in the adobe
Here are some:
a warm, safe, quiet home
a healthy family sleeping in their beds in the warm, safe, quiet home
a bed waiting for me to sleep in, too
a job to go back to tomorrow even though I could not drag myself there today
the moon, the stars, and the daffodils blooming in the adobe
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