17 December 2010

a broken clock is right 2x a day. or whatever.

I used to make fun of my mother for certain things: stretching in public, her dance moves while cooking, wearing workout clothes hours after she had left the gym, and, let's not forget, her snowman mug. It was a large mug (some people might call it a bowl) and it was a Christmas gift from my sister years before. It was delightfully cheerful: perfectly winter-y and Christmas-y. My mother drank out of it year round. Including July. In my tween years, it was mortifying.

Now that we are in the winter-y, Christmas-y season, and now that my tween years are far, far behind me (thank Jesus), I have to confess: I have 2 Christmas mugs, one with a snowman and one with a pengiun. Amos brought them both into the relationship. I think they were Momma Amos' at one point. Regardless, they ended up in my cupboard. And I love them. Yes, even in July. But now that it's December, I can just nod and smile when I am drinking coffee and Amos comes into the kitchen and comments how festive and Christmas-y I am this morning.

I am my mother's daughter - what can I say? Though I'm drawing the line at public stretching. For now.

14 December 2010

polar bear on my chest.

i bought this. and it is awesome. 

now, if only Amos would get this. we could take the best christmas card ever.


09 December 2010

My to-do list kicks ass.

Things I Did Today:

Today I made a doctor's appointment.
Then I called my insurance to make extra-double sure this new doctor was covered. Only make that mistake once.
Then I made an appointment for a facial.
Then I made an appointment for a massage.
Then I bought a ticket to go visit a friend who lives halfway across the country. Just cause I wanted to.
Then I updated my blog.
Then I road my bike trainer, because at one point in my life, I used to work out.
Then I went to my writing group, who hasn't kicked me out, even though I haven't written anything since the summer. We meet in one of my favourite pubs of all time. Sometimes I say words like 'favourite' and 'pub' and pretend I'm British and scrappy.

Days like today are awesome.

things i am excited about - christmas edition.


Family getting together -blah-blah-blah. Do you know what I'm excited about for Christmas? I am going to bring down all my silverware, silverware that has been washed by hand for over 2 years, and run it in my sister's dishwasher. Yea boy. I'm excited. You should be excited for me. It will all be very, very clean.

The End.

*PS - I'm  not a total Grinch. I am very excited for Christmas, for more than just the use of a dishwasher. But, peeps, it's been TWO FUCKING YEARS since any of my dishes has been sanitized in scalding hot water and scrubbed in the way only a machine can scrub. You dig? It's exciting. But I am not, nor have I ever really been, a Grinch.

02 December 2010

holiday bunting

now that it's december 1st, i am full on in holiday mode. i don't know if it was the early snow this year, or the fact that my life was so busy, with all projects wrapping up in early december, but i am stoked for the holiday season. Thanksgiving, Christmas, you name it, I'm there, with a plate of cookies and some wrapping paper.

don't get me wrong, i have gotten precisely zero gifts so far, and have precisely zero clue what i am getting people, except Amos. we're not really doing gifts this year - just something small - given the whole planning-and-paying-for-a-wedding-and-a-honeymoon-and-a-pre-honeymoon-to-Belize-for-almost-all-of-february (sigh... super pumped)

anyway, back to holidays. now that it's december 1st, i'm all sorts of ready to decorate. wreaths. bells. ribbon. and now bunting. wouldn't the above look fantastic draped across windows in stairwells? particularly my windows in my stairwells? it's homemade, and looks pretty simple, but, alas, i don't have a sewing machine, so i'm having to scour my brain to come up with a way around that (or a way to convince sister with a sewing machine to do it for me...Maybe I can convince her with homemade cookies, a little trade action, no?)

That's all I got. No ending here. Stopping now, must commence scheming about decorating...

25 November 2010


I grew up in Colorado. And I never had even one snow day. I know, what luck right? I have it on my list of "Things to Take Up with the Big Guy." However, since moving to Seattle 3 years ago, I have had several snow days, which is more than making up for the paucity of my childhood. I mean, I have to work remotely on the snow days, but no one sends me emails, no one wants anything, and so my days quickly turn into me baking in the kitchen, phone in apron pocket, emails open on the table, and occasionally, I'll walk over to it, scan to make sure no one needs me, and then continue on making my sweet potato cheesecake. Delicious.

In the years living in Seattle, I've gone from a person disgusted from the city's inability to handle the smallest of snow storms to completely enjoying the fact that the city SHUTS DOWN given 3 inches of snow. It's rather wonderful. Neighborhood coffee shops fill up, the local pizza and beer place is packed, everyone is enthusiastic, except for the passengers on the 1/3 of metro buses that jackknifed and who are now stranded at the office. (Dummies - why did you leave the house?!) I love snow. I love living in a city that lets me unabashedly enjoy it. None of this Denver mentality of getting-thought-it. I much prefer Seattle's freak-out-on-the-outside-and-secretly-enjoy-it-as-an-excuse-to-eat,-bake,-and-drink. Yes, please!

So that's my last 3 days have been like. Working from home, baking up a storm, making some kick-ass save-the-dates, and addressessing the hell out of some envalopes (Confidential to mis padres: Amos' family already got us all their addresses. You haven't. Just sayin'.)

11 November 2010

all right then.

i was listening to NPR (enter joke about stereotypical northwest liberal hippie choices of news-radio) this morning, driving my booty to early morning yoga (i know, i amaze myself sometimes... and enter another joke about stereotypical northwest liberal hippie choices) when the following sentence caught my attention.

...the brothel owners, who used to own a funeral parlor, are helping their neighbors in an effort to preserve the habitat of the endangered toad. In the dusk hours, the toads have begun to be found congregating by their clothing - optional pool.

Hands down the most interesting thing I heard this morning. There is just so much in those 2 sentences.

You're welcome.

02 November 2010

More Enjoyable than Fine China.

Amigos! I've been a busy little bee this week - securing a venue, working my hiney off, dressing up as Suzy Homemaker to go play Bingo in an old folks home - but this morning, I started to dig in and create a wedding registry. Don't worry: Amos wasn't missing out on the fun. He and I were both working from home, and our conversation went back and forth across the living room and home office.*

I'm just going to come out and say it: Wedding Registries are weird. It's the second weird thing I've done while planning. Wedding websites were number one. (Try and create one that isn't cheesy and let me know how that is possible). Like wedding websites, I wanted to just skip the whole thing, but then realized that, under their mega-awkwardness, both are super helpful to guests. So I sucked it up, made a website, and begun registering. I felt like I should be shouting GIMMIE, GIMMIE, GIMMIE when I first starting adding items, simply because it feels totally excessive. Then I realized it's like shopping without spending money. Which is awesome, and I got over feeling weird pretty quickly.

Here's the thing: Amos and I live in a small place. We have tiny closets, teeny cupboards, and teeny-tiny kitchen. Where are we supposed to put anything? I looked into honeymoon registries, but you end up paying like 8% to the companies that run the site, and (I think my guests would agree) I would rather have 100% of my gifts, compared to 92%. I'm greedy like that. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: I really would like hurricane candle holders.
Amos: What's a hurricane candle holder? [pause. Enter conversation about what hurricane candle holder is.]
Me: They would be really pretty. Let's register for 2 big and 2 small. That will look so pretty when we host holidays.**
Amos: Where would they go not at Thanksgiving?
Me: [quiet a moment].
Me: Shit.

I assume the hurricane candle holders will make my outdoor space look exactly like this? Wait, I don't have outdoor space. Damn it.

So, after putting a nice blurb about not expecting gifts (which is totally true. Guests' presence is best present, blender is optional, you get?), we put a little thing about saving up money for a house, which is a goal of Amos and I. Then we began the more traditional registry. Well... almost traditional. We headed to REI, and I found this. Mmmhmmm, check yes to a double sized camping hammock. I will put you on my list.***

Already, this wedding registry feels better.

* Let's be real here folks. We live in the city. Home office is a closet. Actually, home office is part of a closet because how could we possible give up an entire closet? Our shoes have to go somewhere.

**This whole planning our future thing is actually the MOST EXCITING thing about getting married. Really fun. (Oh, and we did register for the hurricanes. We found they can go on a bookshelf and a dresser when not in use. We are very good at space management.)

*** I also supplemented with more traditional things, like a vacuum. But I am way more excited about the hammock then the Hoover.

26 October 2010

getting old-a.

went to see Mumford & Sons last night. Very fun. However, on the way to the concert, I found myself thinking something along these lines:

Have they always had concerts on Sunday nights? How can people do this on weeknights? I wish they started at 7:30 and just skipped the opening band, that way I could get home at a reasonable time.

Then I started counting how many hours it would take if the band went on at 9 and what time that would put me back in my (very) comfy bed. Geesh. Who knew that aging creeps up like this? Next thing you know, I'll be rocking a purple sweatsuit, a cane, and nun shoes*. Or I'll be in a miniskirt and heavy eyeliner, trying to reclaim my youth.

Stand by for which one wins out.

* Nun Shoes = one color (navy or beige), orthopedic shoes that were favored by nuns at my Catholic grade school. Or actually any nun I've ever met.

18 October 2010

favorites folder.

AH! As I'm beginning to plan the upcoming marriage-party for Amos y Me, I've been going and snipping out lovely pictures from all over the web. In the process, I also went through my 'things i love' bookmark folder, and MAN, I found some good things I forgot I saved. Thought you all might be interested in some visual candy, yes yes? (Apologies, most of these don't have links back, as I usually just bookmarked the .jpg. If one of these is yours, please let me know and I will give credit.)

None of these really deal with weddings yet, per say, as I've just begun to appreciate how, um, loaded a wedding can be - with everyone you love having all sorts of big opinions - so I've being a tad private with it right now. That may change in the future. (One of the sincerely lovely things about being a human is the ability to occasionally change one's mind.) Anyway, on to a scattering of my favorites folder!

That's all I've gots for now - a dear friend and I are off to look at an old salvage shop in SoDo. Lovely Sunday if I do say so myself. xox.

01 October 2010


Marriage is a vital social institution. The exclusive commitment of two individuals to each other nurtures love and mutual support; it brings stability to our society. For those who choose to marry, and for their children, marriage provides an abundance of legal, financial, and social benefits. In return it imposes weighty legal, financial, and social obligations….Without question, civil marriage enhances the “welfare of the community.” It is a “social institution of the highest importance.” ... Marriage also bestows enormous private and social advantages on those who choose to marry. Civil marriage is at once a deeply personal commitment to another human being and a highly public celebration of the ideals of mutuality, companionship, intimacy, fidelity, and family…. Because it fulfils yearnings for security, safe haven, and connection that express our common humanity, civil marriage is an esteemed institution, and the decision whether and whom to marry is among life’s momentous acts of self-definition.

From “Goodridge Vs. Department of Health” – Massachusetts Supreme Court Chief Justice Margaret H. Marshall

*Can we just legalize marriage for gays, lesbians, et al yet? pu-leaze? 'Cause it puts a damper on my joy if it's a right that other's don't have... that whole my liberation tied up in your liberation thing. you get?

30 September 2010

petition for a 37 hour day.

Dear Universe,

I'm running into a bit of trouble, ya see. There just aren't enough hours in the day for me to do all things I need to do, let alone all the things I want to do. It's getting to be a bit of a problem. For instance, my to do list includes:

A) a big work deadline on 10/21, followed by an even bigger deadline on 11/18. I believe that puts me squarley in the "crunch time," a.k.a. the "all I feel like I do is work" time.
B) oh, I'm getting married. And weddings don't seem to plan themselves. Plus I want to, you know, relax and have time to enjoy this whole engaged business. it's kind of fun.
C) i need to renew my licensure and of my 3 classes, I am only a quarter way through the first one. Due in mid-November. This is a big one. BIG. my CPA books just keep staring at me.
D) i used to be working on this thing called a novel. Yes, I'd like to get back to that. I've bailed on submitting chapters to my writing group for the last couple months, and it's just getting embarrassing.
E) yes, and i'd like to have much more time to blog. I know blog is an ugly word, but its such a pretty thing. I don't have nearly enough time to scout the internet for lovely photos and interesting tidbits. I need that in my life.

Now, dear Universe, I know people have asked this of you before, and you have remain steadfast in your commitment to a 24 hour day. But please... I'm a bit special and I really need it. I'll be anxiously awaiting your reply.


27 September 2010

BOOYAH marriage.

lovely folks, sorry i up and disappeared on you for a bit. some things were going on. exciting things. things with shiny rings, and serious questions, and surprise picnics on the roof with big bouquets of yellow flowers and yummy BLTs.

that's right. amos and i are engaged. i have spent the last week in total, complete, and slightly overwhelming happiness. no, i did not see it coming, and yes, in the end, that worked for me. we went ring shopping, i've got something beautiful and vintage on my finger, and we've happily told our families, who are so supportive.

i never thought it was possible to be completely exhausted from joy/happiness/bliss, but here i am. i'll keep it short and sweet and see you all soon.

25 September 2010

It gets better.


my god, i do love dan savage. and it does get better. support this and go watch: http://www.youtube.com/itgetsbetterproject

16 September 2010

they should call it sky falling.

you know that dream you have, the one where you're falling and then - BAM - you wake up? I had that, in real life, except I didn't fall and wake up, I just keep falling and falling and falling.

Peeps, I went skydiving. For real. It was super fun. And the scariest fucking thing I've ever done.

It was my sister's boyfriend's quarter-century birthday. My sister doesn't do small birthday shindigs. The girl goes big. Surprise skydiving big. With everyone wearing matching shirts. How could I not get my booty down to Portland and jump out of a plane with them?

So I did.

Did I mention it was scary?

Amos couldn't come (he was man-cationing), so I was going solo. Get there late on Friday, promptly ruin the "surprise" part of the birthday ("So when I told Dad we were skydiving...Ooh, shit. Sorry!"). Truth be told, I hadn't really thought about what I'd signed up for. I just knew I needed lots of cash - this is not a cheap activity - and to show up ready to go at 10:30. On the ride out to the site, one of my fellow jumpers had the gall to tell me that just about every skydiving organization has had a death or two, and ours* - a suicide by an instructor - was no exception. At this point, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I should have thought this through a bit more.

We drove out to the Oregon countryside, threw down some dinero, and signed away every legal right we might possibly have. Seriously. One of the waivers said - paraphrasing here - Skydiving is one of the most dangerous things a person can do. Mistakes and errors happen. We might make a mistake. You might make a mistake. The pilot might make a mistake and you could have broken bones, bruises, concussions, or you may die. This is part of the risk of skydiving and you/your family cannot sue us. Holy crap. It took me about an hour to read all the rights I was signing away. This did not make me feel any more secure.

Post-waivers, post-payment, and post -very-short-15-minute-training-session, we were ready to go! We went out to a field, where we promptly sat for about 2 hours waiting for our turn. Actually, this part calmed my nerves the most. People kept going up in the planes, jumping out, and coming down safely. Including the 84-year old grandmother who went before us. She was fricking adorable, in her tracksuit and super white tenny-shoes. The woman is my new role model. I mean, you all know I have a secret desire to be an old woman.

Anyway, enough celebrating old people. It was time to go. I picked out my bright pink parachute (I insist on high style wherever I go), met my tandem jumper, put on the harness, helmet, and sweet goggles, and hopped onto the tiny little airplane. At this point, I had gotten very quiet. Not speaking quiet. Pale face quiet. I was just focusing on breathing and not vomiting.


The plane was empty save for two foam benches running parallel from front to back. We hopped in the door on the back of the plane and all straddled the benched and scooted back, sitting in a little train of skydivers. We climbed up, slowly, to 13,000 feet, where the views were impeccable: Rainier, Helen, Hood, Jefferson, Adams, Three Sisters, and downtown Portland. Strangely enough, the higher we climbed, the less nervous I became. It seemed significantly less real as the ground became a patchwork of colors instead of actual fields, farms, roads, and houses. Then the back door opened and the temperature of the plane dropped to that of a walk-in beer cooler. About the moment, I officially wanted to lose my shit. F my life.

We slid down the benches and Sister's Boyfriend turned to look back at us as he got ready to leave the plane. I've never seen the kid so pale. Then, right before my eyes, he dropped. As I was registering that he just fell. out. of. a plane., my tandem instructor was pushing me toward the door. At no point were my limbs going to help him out: I was pretty much paralyzed. He had me sit on the edge of the plane, with my legs dangling out, flapping in the wind, as the landscape whizzed by, and wind whipped around me. I have never been so batshit scared in my life. And then we fell forward, the weight of my instructor pushing me out of the plane. Immediately, my stomach was in my throat and my eyes were closed. Reminding myself I paid handsomely do to this, I forced my baby blues open. We hit terminal velocity and my stomach was returned to its rightful place. We fell for over a minute, reaching 120 mph and descended from 13,000 to 4,000 feet. I kept chanting: Please let the parachute open. Please let the parachute open. Please let the parachute open. The universe listened. The bright pink canvas came out of the pack and we began to gracefully drift downwards. That part was fun, except when we did flips, and my extremely sensitive stomach threatened revolt. After putting my instructor in his place (Do you want me to vomit on you?), we returned to a lovely decent, landing softly in the field. Others in our group had a more Wild Ride, including free fall flips and spins, but I am - at heart - a boring girl and falling out of a plane the good old-fashioned vanilla way is plenty for me. Me and the 84 year old woman. The only way it could have been better was if I was in a matching tracksuit.

We celebrated with beer and burgers, followed by more beer at the Green Dragon, a favorite spot of mine (and sister and sister's boyfriend). If you find yourself in tPDX, and even if you are too much of a wimp to skydive, visit them and grab yourself a beer. Maybe a Jalapeno one**, if you feel like living, which is exactly what I was doing.

*Ours was Skydive Oregon, which was very, very good. Highly recommended.
** Srsly. Get one and a plate of nachos and thank me later.

11 September 2010


i went to high school. i went to college. i took a bagillion tests to become professionally certified (to clarify, bagillion = 4). and now, a scant 2 years later, looks like i have to catch up on my reading to keep my licensure.

Oh, and the books cost $430, which is just insulting. i'm kind of regreting this whole grown-up-have-an-adult-job-thing. Can I get a do over and come back as Hannah Montana? Her life seems awesome*.

*I know, the poor child is stalked by paparazzi. BUT... did you see the book Intellectual Property up there? I would gladly exchange one book, one 'azzi. deal, Miley?

08 September 2010

damn it seattle.

if you are going to insist on being summer-y for a measly 6 weeks, then I am def. going to increase my coffee budget. because if this is me in August, god help us in February....

01 September 2010

if a blog was a restaurant...

... it would be Nettletown, this lovely, little hole-in-the-wall that is kind of new to my 'hood. I went with Amos on Friday (when he was playing hooky... shush, don't tell.) I had a lovely lunch of pork noodles and he had lobster and mushroom sandwich, complete with Beechers' cheese. And if you're familiar with Beechers', than you would understand how positively delicious this sandwich was. I plan on returning soon for the baked eggs and huckleberry mimosas. Or the Rogue beer and lemongrass elk meatball sandwhich. Decisions, decisions...

26 August 2010

bee happy.

i'm not really posting today, so there's not much for you to read here. Instead, go read this funny article by Samatha Bee (of the Daily Show) about Being Hugely Pregnant.* Or this one where she and her husband talk about not getting divorced. The woman is funny. I kind of want to be her when I grow up... you know, minus the always pregnant bit.

*If you are in Seattle, get off your f*cking computer and go enjoy the gorgeous summer weather. Seriously.

23 August 2010

dancing with ira.

sorry kiddos, but i'm going to get all braggy on you here. See, I'm sitting at my red kitchen table on a beautifully sunny afternoon, finishing up a late lunch of leftover mussels steamed in white wine sauce, and I have just had the best weekend. the kind of weekends you can't really plan but that sometimes just pop up and make your life slow down and well, to run the risk of sounding downright cheesy, they are just... delicious. there. i said it. but it's true.

it all started with a slow Friday afternoon, which hasn't happened in months at my dear ol' job. I had gotten a cute haircut in the morning, busted out a couple super productive hours of work at a coffee shop, and gone on a nice run around greenlake. i got home around 1, checked on my to-do list and found it insanely short.  i celebrated with a wee bit of a nap, curled up on the couch which had just enough sunshine to be comfortable, but not too much to be hot. once awake, with a cup of coffee in hand, i actually wrote. yea. see the thing is - and i can only confess this now that i think i am coming out of it - i have been in a bit of a writers funk lately. blame it on the sunshine. blame it on the stressful job. blame it on the fact that a cute boy keeps asking me to go on long runs and eat nice dinners or go drink tall boys at dive bars, but i haven't been writing. and when i sat down... it wasn't pretty. i mean, i kept up as best i could on Jackson Riley, and the posts, while not awful, were not great. but there were something. and i'll take it. it's a little weird to have my writer's blocks a public thing, but i'll get used to it.

but on friday afternoon, i began to write a bit of my novel, which has been on hold for weeks upon weeks. and i didn't hate what i wrote. it's terribly long and doesn't yet have plot or much focus, but it's about a girl named Brooklynn and a mother named Adelle and a big farmhouse in eastern Kansas. i'm rather fond of the characters. i think i'll keep them around. i pumped out 6 pages, which is a ton for my little out-of-writing-shape mind. i was exhausted afterwards. i had to take another nap and watch the daily show to recover. (oh, and i did a little bit more work too, just to pay the bills).

friday night was out drinking a fresh (!) squeezed (!) whiskey sour. having never really had a whiskey sour before,i don't think i can now have it any other way that freshly pressed right in front of me. 2 lemons, a lime, and Maker's Mark. Mm-hmm. I sat and ate pot pies with friends and then sat and drank with friends on a huge patio enjoying the slightly chilly but totally manageable Seattle air.

Saturday was filled with trips to the Farmers Market to pick up ribs and veggies and fruit for the week ahead and salmon for dinner that night. We had to celebrate, to kick off our evening right. See, my friends, we were going to see Ira Glass. And while it may be understandable that some of you don't know who he is (a NPR radio broadcast host of This American Life) and some of you who know who he is might not care that much and wonder why I would be so excited (please don't underestimate the bounds of my nerdiness. srsly.) I. was. pumped. Before the show, friends were coming over and we were grilling salmon & asparagus with a side of cilantro pesto, eating a salad with fresh avocado and apple (a combination i had not previous thought of and now cannot wait to try again). We finished off the meal with beer popsicles, which were - surprisingly - very delicious. I was skeptical, and I am a true-blue fan now. I can't wait to try them with huckleberry beer and fresh fruit. Should you ever find yourself at a summer dinner party in my backyard, I fear you'll now know what I'll be serving for dessert.

We saw Ira, and for the most part, he lived up to my expectation. I wished he had a bit more depth to his show - another performer or storyteller would have been nice - but I enjoyed it none-the-less. Leaving the show, we headed to the only acceptable afterparty: a dance party DJ'd by Ira Glass and Dan Savage at the dive gay bar Rebar. It was (wonderfully) what I expected: terrible DJ'ing by two novices, a lot of show tunes set to a techno beat (Zanzabar and Cats, no joke) and probably the best people watching EVER. Ira danced exactly how you would think a 50-year old national public radio host would dance, and it was ever so endearing. Dan danced as one would expect a writer with an affinity for show-tunes to dance, and it was ever so perfect. Dan's husband, Terry, somehow was able to dance to every. single. song. and make it look good (to a disco version of Memories. I don't even know how that's possible). At one point (I think it was when GaGa began to play) everyone behind me pushed up and I found myself dancing on the stage, next to 100 of my new best friends and Ira. All fun and good, if a little surreal. But once people began to push past me, saying "Oh, I just need to touch him. I just need to touch Ira." I knew my stage time was over. There is only so much celebrity worship I can handle, especially of a radio host while in a fairly dive-y bar. Girl gotta know when to peace, you know?

So we left, and headed up to le capitol hill and ending the night with the best burrito ever from Rancho Taco Bravo, the place to stop should you be starving and slightly tipsy at 2AM (just note it for future reference). It's Seattle's answer to fast food - family owned, recognizable ingredients, slightly more 'spensive than Taco Bell, and a million kagillion times better. I highly recommend it. 'Specially the spiced pork Rancho Burrito.

And this morning, after saying adiou to my friends, Amos and I have had a nice relaxing time, cleaning up from dinner last night, looking into a future vacation, watching instant Netflicks. I may go on a bike ride later or I may bake a strawberry pie. It's one of those kind of days. And tonight we are seeing Raiders of the Lost Ark with more friends at this little theater that lets you eat pizza in a booth and brings you homemade popcorn in wooden bowls... seriously, don't mean to be braggy here folks. My life is kinda rocking for the past 48 hours and I just am soaking it up.

All in all, I think I'm coming out of my writers funk - this weekend sure didn't hurt - and looking forward to seeing you all again soon. Peace.

21 August 2010

bathing beauty.

This past weekend, I went swimming in a gorgeous mountain lake. The mountains were tall and deep green, the water was clear dark blue and there was not one cloud in the sunny sky. I, however, did not get much of a chance to look around as I was busy trying to keep my swim bottoms covering my (very) white booty. Here's the thing: On an impulse purchase from the Banana Republic sale rack, I now have a very cute suit that is a size or two too big. I mistakenly thought I could "make it work." (Never watch Project Runway prior to shopping. That phrase should be banned from retail environments.) As my bare ass could tell you, I was failing to keep it classy. Thus begins the search for a new swimsuit, preferably one that, you know, stays on.

i now know my correct size (thank you Nordstrom bra fitting department!) but - unfortunately - it narrows my options quite a bit. here are a couple i am thinking of... (and now, a-hem, please offer your suggestions. that's the whole reason i'm putting this shiznit on here.)

I'm nervous that the color of this suit and the color of my skin are too close... 

I like this one - though I'm a little nervous about the top, u-um, staying up.... (see above on keeping it classy). It's also back ordered until October, but the blue color would look good on my skin.

I love the retro look and folded over bottoms. But a white suit?! And it's super spendy.

Love the color... would I regret the ruffles? (And how weird is it not to have a model in that photo? It's creeping me out.)

19 August 2010

my first day bike communiting.

i was cleaning out my email and found this from last year, on my first day bike commuting (this is what i did prior to blogging... send random emails to my family):

I decided last night that, after 3 years of talking about it, I was going to become a true Seattleite: I was going to bike commute. I had my timbuk2 tote bag ready! My helmet and sunglasses! My spandex! The problems started when I couldn’t get my tote bag adjusted right… groggy Mike was little help. All the other cool bike commuters have their bags tightly cinched to their chest, and mine refused (inanimate objects are capable of such). Annoyed and hurried, I threw everything into a backpack (so dorky) and was out!

My route takes me along Stewart to Second. Both of these are under construction. Not awesome.

Upon realizing that I had no idea where the garage entrance was, I had to come in through the front doors, and take the elevator down with my bike (so uncool.) I got into the bike cages and taking out my lock, I found that they key had somehow gotten lost in the early morning bag switch. Darn it! Back in the elevators went I, switching to another elevator bank with a very nice young man from EY who wished me luck on my first day commuting and asked me if I had ever been hit by a car (really?)

I wheeled my bike into my office, hoping that it would be at least a little inconspicuous. (I did not make eye contact with anyone while I was wheeling in, and my bike does not wheel quietly. It clicks.) After resting my bike (which now takes up most of the walking room in my office), I went to the bathroom, and did the magic trick where one enters in Spandex and exits in a cardigan sweater and ballet flats. As I was applying makeup to my little red face (we all know how thin Irish skin handles physical activity) I thought to myself: This is what homeless people do. They get ready in strange bathrooms, out of a small bag, hoping that when they leave, they smell all right and no one notices.

On that note, I got a paper towel and tried to scrub some grease off my leg.

So now I sit, my bike resting comfortably in my office, my sense of self-righteousness riding high (I’m judging everyone who arrives to work already dressed), having to remind myself that I have to ride home (darn it again.) But I do feel like a more authentic Seattleite.

18 August 2010

Snap, son.

I may be late to the party on the celebration of Prop 8 in the United States district court, but I was rewatching these interviews of the attorneys -- including Ted Olson on Fox (!) -- and I had to share. Snap, son. That is how you win a damn court case.

Ted Olson with Chris Matthews on Fox News

"You don't get to vote on the Bill of Rights."
Conservative lawyer Ted Olson destroys above Chris Matthews on Fox.

David Boies on Face the Nation

"The witness stand is a lonely place to lie."
Best. Line. Ever. Said by David Doies on Face the Nation.

17 August 2010

prayers & thoughts, please.

this past weekend, i ran in the Spokane to Sandpoint relay, a beautiful race that takes a team of 12 runners on a 185-mile route from Spokane, WA to Sandpoint, ID. It was gorgeous weather, great to be back in Spokane (my college city, but I hadn't visited in years), and wonderful to run the race with such a fun team.

However, on Saturday morning, about 20 hour into the race, there was a terrible accident. While along a wide highway in Northern Idaho, a motorist heading east veered from their lane, across the other, and hit a woman and a young runner who were along the west-bound shoulder. During the night, runners could have pacers either run with them or bike next to them to help with running times and to increase visibility to traffic. The pacer in this case - a mother of one of the other runners - was killed. (News article is here). The driver has been booked on manslaughter charges and alcohol may have been involved.

Relay teams began in waves, and we started out at 8:50AM on Friday morning. Since the race is so long (our time was around 27 hours to complete), we got to know the other runners and teams, recognizing their support vehicles and their runners. This team was made up of high school cross-country runners and their mothers. Our team had been leapfrogging theirs and we were ahead of this on this particular leg (about 6:30AM). I saw the ambulance go by while I was waiting for our runner to finish, and I prayed it was not for a runner on the course. Over the next couple of hours, we got word of the accident, who it was, and the tragic death. The race - with teams spread over miles and miles of distance - isn't one that can be canceled, so we finished as planned.

Back at home now, I'm digesting. This situation is making me think about open-course races and their inherent danger, a danger I never understood. It's making me think of how random and tragic life can be. It's making me want to implore people to be aware of bikers, runners, and walkers on the road and to never drink and drive. It reminds me there is so easy answers or ways to ensure things like this never happen again. I haven't settled on some of this issues - like if I will do a race like this again - that will take some time. Meanwhile, I ask you all to keep those affected by this accident in your prayers.
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