Sunday, January 31, 2010

Item NOT as advertised.

Look at the picture of the pizza on the box. Just look at it. See how it's loaded with toppings -- green peppers, pepperoni, sausage and all kinds of goodies. Now look at what came OUT of said box. ONE piece of pepperoni, halved. And 3 molecules of green pepper plant matter. Supreme french bread pizza, eh??

I'm just sayin'.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

you've got to be kidding me.

My entire day was spent in a reverse pac-man grid where I was chased not by ghosts but by giant fat molecules begging to be eaten.

At lunchtime I ducked the sweets and approached the cashier with a healthy salad. As I fumbled for cash, she shifted a basket of cookies under my nose and murmured seductively, "You won! Pick something."

Me: "I don't really want anything."

Her: "But they're FREEEEEEeeeeeeeee" -- her breath lingering on the word FREE, activating the opportunistic starving student part of my brain.

Her charms worked; I blacked out and came to moments later holding a package of cookies.

What have I done??

I realized with horror what had happened and held the evil package away from my body with the tippy part of my thumb and forefinger and accosted the first person I ran into down the hall. "Sam!! Cookies! I got these for free. Here!"

Yes! He was in but he only wanted one. sigh

What to do with the other cookie? No one was around so I folded the package nicely and left it on a coworker's calendar with a note. Then I swiveled back to my desk to enjoy my salad.

After lunch I got up for water and was accosted by more temptation.

A small but growing army of serotonin-deprived office staff (is there any other kind?) darted past like a pack of wild boars shrieking excitedly,"Cuupppcakes!!!", gathering additional throngs of the starving as they sprinted toward the high-carb prizes waiting in the conference room. I steeled myself and slunk back into my chair to chew on ice.

The rest of the day passed with cupcakes, cookies, sweets, and sugary evils flowing through the air like wind but I resisted each and every one.

Dinner out with friends, I resisted dessert.

At the movies, I looked away from the giant snack counter with its 3,000 calorie packs of peanut butter cups and sour patches and ice cream bars.

I avoided all of it.

I made it through the day. I pulled up in the driveway and relaxed in my seat. I thought I made it through with bonus points.

Until I saw the package.

The package of cookies.

A friend apparently started a cookie company and sent me a free sampler package.

Cookies, delivered right to my door.

Not even home is safe!

Could you ever get enough

Of teh cuteness??

- Posted from my phone

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

my nephew's beginning photo skilz

My nephew Michael, whose spleen is almost 13 years old, just posted this photo of me holding a gob of doghair from our freshly-brushed samoyed mix. Proving that our family is really just a bunch of animals, he toyed with the photo and added a nice frame and some other elements. It's so cute!

I love that kid like he's my own. I love all my sister's kids like this, what a great bunch!

Michael's in the front. This is only 3 of the 4 great kids (I say kids but they're not really, not anymore).
Michael with a magician at my dad's birthday party.
You can see the "um...?" question on his face!

Plants are so demanding.

I'm considering getting rid of some of my plants - I have too many and the cat has been mowing them daily; they just look awful.

Before I left for Flagstaff this past summer, I handed a coworker a plant for safekeeping so she could care for it in my absence.

I laugh at what I came back to:

I wouldn't post this if she didn't have such a good sense of humor since she reads my blog. But isn't this hilarious?

- Posted from my phone

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Test post from my phone

This is just a test, repeat, just a test.

- Posted from my phone

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

walking in honor and memory of cancer victims

A few months ago I did a cancer walk with a girlfriend who lost her mother, sister and brand new baby nephew to cancer all this year. It's an absolute tragedy. I've been thinking so deeply not only of what she's going through but anyone suffering through a health crisis or loss (or both). There really are no words. All I can offer is my thoughts, friendship and support.

And so we walked.

The morning started at 4:30 a.m. on a Saturday.

I am missing the portion of the brain that allows one to accurately plan bedtime properly and so at 2am the night before, I glanced at the clock and said, "crap!!" and dove into bed, commanding sleep to fall upon me instantaneously. (THIS I can usually accomplish, thank goodness.)

4:30 came too soon. Me, before dawn:

I want to say something poetic like "the skies were crying for us" because it was pouring, but no, the Gods weren't happy with simple sobs. No, these were tears of sleet. (Thanks, G, that was awesome.) We got there safely, however, and signed in.

Checking in.

I kept choking up, thinking each person here has lost someone (almost 10,000 people!). Some wore signs like "in memory of mom" or "in honor of my sis" but everyone had a story. Here we were, stripped of our daily veneers, raw and open. Walking together to give something back to those dearly missed but also to each other.

The power of like company in grief is mighty.

Some people wore pink:

Pink ladies.

Pink bunnies.

Even Toto wore pink!

Most of us wore warm jackets and ponchos to shield against the damp cold.

Our group got separated by the crowd and I found myself walking next to only one of the other members. We walked along quietly at first until I ventured, "Are you here because you lost someone or because you're supporting J?" And she told me her story. She opened up and we hugged, cried, and laughed, sharing stories of loss and hope. I felt absolutely stripped bare and yet somehow truly alive, standing there in the cold rain, offering all I had -- myself -- in the face of loss and pain. And it mattered.

Here we are at two miles:

Two miles.

Then we found the rest of our group:

All together again!

Prize marigolds, J's mom's favorite flower.

The walk was only a tiny symbolic gesture but every day I think of her and others facing illness and loss. With my thoughts, I hope to pay a silent tribute: your loss matters to me. I care, and I am sorry for your pain. I think of you more than you know.

Monday, January 18, 2010

"We're never so vulnerable than when we trust..."

Friday night I rode the metro home after seeing a movie with a new group of friends. We stood there clinging to the poles, complete strangers and yet sharing struggles, hopes and fears, laughing with the lightness that comes from a collective carrying of burdens. And I wondered to myself, why is it sometimes easier to share vulnerabilities with a stranger?

None of us judged eachother.

The only aura between us was the shared understanding of what it means to be different in a society which eschews diversity even as it applauds it.

We parted ways and I felt a little raw inside. Who is this new me that tells strangers about myself? I used to be shy! (Maybe it's the blog. I should blame it all on the blog!)

So I was thinking of all this, how it feels to open up and expand.

Sometimes I feel like I am ripping open my life. It's exhilarating and terrifying, this trusting of others. Philip Greenspun wrote about it in Travels with Samantha, a cross-country trip he took alone with his dog. He wanted to go out into the world to see if he would be ok. Somehow we all have to find this out for ourselves, and it seems that's the journey I am on now.

I switched lines and waited for the next train thinking about all of this. I was in a questionable neighborhood trying not to draw attention to my lone female state, especially as I was already feeling vulnerable. I took out my phone to distract myself and started tweeting that I didn't feel safe when a scowling, burly guy dropped a two-way radio. The contents scattered everywhere just as the train pulled up.

I bent over to help him but he pulled back suspiciously until he looked up and realized I wasn't stealing his stuff. Our eyes met and we both peered at eachother from behind the walls of our shielded innards. That's when I realized I wasn't the only one who didn't feel safe.

And I thought, that's what we are seeking when we go out into the world.

We are all looking for humanity in eachother's eyes.

“We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone - but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy.” ~Walter Anderson

Arches National Park at sunset.
 May 2009

Thursday, January 14, 2010

um, yeah.

I've been sucked into a black hole but should emerge shortly... talk to you soon!

Sunday, January 10, 2010

sunset in the Puget Sound

I took this photo at Ebey's Landing, Fort Ebey, Whidbey Island, Washington State. I love the colors of the sky.The art auction its in is ending in 20 minutes but if you still want a print, let me know!

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

6 minutes of wonderment

Oh. my. god. I am sitting here, absolutely stunned by the performance I just saw in this video of Swan Lake.

I was impressed at the frogs but keep watching until you get to the graceful ballerina standing on her tippy toes on her partner's HEAD. Not slipping off his glossy smooth hair or anything. Wow.

6 minutes of wonderment:

If you'd have told me the body could bend this way, I wouldn't have believed you. But there it is, video proof.

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