tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96287592024-03-14T11:50:35.005-07:00Other crap that's on my mind.A website about things you probably don't care about, but I do so shove it.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.comBlogger670125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-70532819553230606432011-01-06T10:57:00.000-08:002011-01-06T11:07:11.250-08:00Stuck.I don't know what to do with you little blog. I think I've used you up for a long time saying sweet nothings in your ear for many years now. From a time when blogging was before Facebooking or Twittering, I adored that I could vent or rehash or just mumble on here for no one (or my mom) to read. It's been fun. <br /><br />But now I think I want to try something new. This is not a resolution. I don't make resolutions. I make lists of shit to do. I have lots of those. Plenty of sticky notes on my computer reminding me of the gagillion places I want to travel to, eat at, knitting projects I want to get to, and life long dreams I want to accomplish. <br /><br />So now what? I've thought of a few things. I thought, maybe I'll really truly write that book I've tried writing about 20 times already. Maybe it won't be about my crazy family. Maybe it'll be about my upcoming farming adventures or all the ways you too can save money. Then I thought about doing a more visual blog. On one of our worst vacations, I made it a point to carry a pictorial diary with me. Every day I drew what happened instead of writing it down. I suck at drawing, but for some reason I loved the way they came out. Do I do drawings of an every day freelancer? Would I actually do this? Draw and scan every day? If only I could draw effortlessly on the computer then this would be a no brainer. <br /><br />And then I thought about abandoning you altogether. We've had some good times, but I started becoming tired of it all. And frankly, I didn't feel like I had much to say that anyone would care about. <br /><br />So what do I do? Why can't you answer me, blog? Why?!Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-69750391148929068062010-12-21T10:02:00.000-08:002010-12-21T10:16:16.798-08:00In a world where you're all alone and you get sick.When you're boyfriend flies back to his home and suddenly out of nowhere you start vomiting for 4 hours straight and you have a temperature of 101.5 and your back hurts and you can't even speak on the phone and getting up to get some water takes all of your energy, you realize how much it sucks to be sick and alone. <br /><br />In a world where I was sick just yesterday, I'd have my boyfriend go on Ravelry for me and tell me what all my friends are up to. I'd have him get me water and make the strawberry jam I was hoping to make yesterday. I would have him scan all my important documents for the fire safe box I just bought and pack for Buffalo and Puerto Rico. I would have him take out the garbage (which I did in my pjs, without glasses and my hair a mess) and had him make me toast. I would have had him connect Netflix to our TV upstairs so I wouldn't have to use my computer that goes dim every 5 minutes. I would have had him make me a bath that never gets cold and then carry me to said warm bath. I would have had him get my wallet, phone, ipod and other various things that were all downstairs when I wanted them to be upstairs with me in the bed. I would've liked my hair combed, my back rubbed and my teeth brushed. In this world where I was alone while I was sick, I carried on just fine but it would've been a heck of a lot easier if he was here.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-92065954536526448112010-12-01T20:40:00.001-08:002010-12-02T08:41:10.658-08:00Let the wishlists begin...It's that time of year again, where everyone thinks I want a knitting book and just grabs one nillie willie without realizing that it's totally worthless on me. Okay, not totally worthless - I appreciate the sentiment, but don't waste your money yo. That's what wishlists are for. They eliminate wasting money and guessing. Sure, sometimes a surprise is nice. Gift cards are okay, but also totally feel like you just didn't think too much. It's really a lose-lose for you. And with that said, I present to you the things I want in life, for the holidays, my birthday or just any old day. <br /><br />-If you know me, you know I like natural stuff when it comes to medicine. Therefore I present you with the <a href="http://www.sistersageherbs.com/2006/01/medicine-makers-herb-share.html">Medicine Maker's Herb Share</a>. That's the expensive version that I really want, but the <a href="http://www.sistersageherbs.com/2010/01/gardeners-medicine-herb-share.html">Gardener's Share</a> is just as great, I just don't know how long I'll be living at this house to make it worth my while. <br /><br />-Oh man, how I want to make yogurt every day all the time, day and night. <a href="http://www.drugstore.com/products/prod.asp?pid=181045&catid=9619&brand=53385&trx=PLST-0-BRAND&trxp1=9619&trxp2=181045&trxp3=1&trxp4=0&btrx=BUY-PLST-0-BRAND">Here's</a> the maker and <a href="http://www.drugstore.com/products/prod.asp?pid=181048&catid=135227&brand=53385">here's</a> the starter. Both are not even totally necessary, but just make things a little easier in this homemakers life. <br /><br />-So, awhile back I had a yoga DVD on my wishlist and I stupidly didn't try it out at the library and just went with its 5-star amazon reviews. Big mistake. Dominic's sister got me this present and it turned out to be a dud. I always felt bad about that. Luckily, I did my research this time and came to the conclusion that <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Yoga-Shakti-Shiva-Rea/dp/1591791847/ref=wl_it_dp_o?ie=UTF8&coliid=I1MW5SPKXLAFFV&colid=1OSU7Y7ZKJELC">Shiva Rea</a> is the bomb, and when I want to be yelled at I refer to <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jillian-Michaels-Metabolism-Trouble-Meltdown/dp/B003AP5WZU/ref=wl_it_dp_o?ie=UTF8&coliid=I1SWRYSH3JJ5T3&colid=1OSU7Y7ZKJELC">Jillian Michaels</a>. <br /><br />-Clothes are so hard because of sizes and the internet, I'll never know if I will actually like what you send. But it's worth a shot, right? I've been eyeing these <a href="http://www.landsend.com/pp/SuedeMoccasinSlippers~152356_-1.html?bcc=y&action=order_more&sku_0=::DBR&CM_MERCH=IDX_00009__0000000917&origin=index">moccassins</a> (dominic has too), <a href="http://www.lochers.com/collection5.html">this</a> top or <a href="http://www.lochers.com/collection2.html">this</a> top I've been trying to get for years or you can just call it a day and get me a giftcard at my <a href="http://shopvelouria.tripod.com/contact.html">favorite little boutique</a> in Ballard. <br /><br />-Okay, so I was never really into jewelry until recently. I try to wear one little trinket I own every day and I actually feel a little prettier for doing so. <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/25291219/vintage-napier-apple-pin-small-p701?ref=sr_gallery_1&ga_search_query=apple&ga_search_type=all&ga_page=&order=date_desc&includes[0]=tags&includes[1]=title">This</a> little pin is delightful and <a href="http://www.1928.com/gold-butterfly-eye-glass-badge-holder.html">this eyeglass holder</a> is just precious. I'd happily include both into my small collection. <br /><br />-And if you want me to read/knit/color/clean the world, there's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kiplingers-Personal-Finance-magazine/dp/B00005N7R5/ref=wl_it_dp_o?ie=UTF8&coliid=I6FL87YTP9J2B&colid=1OSU7Y7ZKJELC">Kiplinger's</a> magazine, <a href="http://shop.knitonthenet.com/index.php?cat=Books">A Stitch in Time</a>, <a href="http://www.iloveuma.com/newyorkstreetartcoloringbook.aspx">this coloring book</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Clean-House-Planet-Karen-Logan/dp/0671535951/ref=wl_it_dp_o?ie=UTF8&coliid=I3UOYVN3R8O4UD&colid=1OSU7Y7ZKJELC">this</a> diy home cleaning guide. <br /><br />But that's not all! You can find every other useless, but will make me happy, item on my Amazon wishlist - including everything I've just listed here. You can even sort my list from high to low priority. I spent all day yesterday going through the SEVEN PAGES and decided what was worth being labeled "highest" making your holiday/birthday gift-giving that much easier. <br /><br />Hooray for gifts. I love you all.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-76211290336715201022010-10-09T12:59:00.000-07:002010-10-09T13:03:21.452-07:00COFFEE!!!I do this a few times a year - torture myself by forgetting how much coffee makes me totally nuts. Case in point: Last night I hung out with some girlfriends. You know, the typical Friday night of hot tubbing and body painting and talking about anal sex. So when I had to wake up early this morning and walk to work for an upcoming client showdown, I felt like coffee would prepare me for the rainy Saturday in the office. I had a small cup about 2 months ago and felt okay, so I didn't think anything of it. But now, even hours after drinking a medium (or is that a grande) I'm all sorts of twitchy. My mind is on a racetrack that won't seem to stop. My hands are not in control. I want to do jumping jacks and write poetry at the same time. <br /><br />I imagine this is what people on coke feel like, although snorting coffee beans might not be as much fun.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-6501481158995289142010-09-21T21:29:00.001-07:002010-09-21T21:38:13.134-07:00In a world where houses are easy to buy and sell.So this magical place would be the most amazing land of lands. It would have grass you'd never have to mow. It would have houses that weren't too big, and never too small. It would have hardwood floors throughout and a washer and dryer, of course. It would be in an area that's walkable to the grocery store, the library and the coffee shop, just in case you ever actually wanted coffee from a coffee shop. It would have 3 rooms with 3 closets and 3 doors. It would be on a safe street right in the middle of a good neighborhood, and yet not on the one side that all the traffic is on. It would be smoke-free, stain-free and mold-free. It would not have neighbors above or below. And it certainly wouldn't smell weird. It would have a kitchen that has a gas stove and it would be big enough to have people gather around. It would be the kind of place friends would want to come to, people would want to rent later on and even more people would want to house swap when you and your boyfriend have the urge to move to Paris for a year. It would be absolutely lovely, with crown molding and fixtures that were old but not old in the kind of way that would need plumbing repair in a few years. This place, oh how wonderful you would be, if you were easy to get. If you didn't have to find your credit score and get pre-approvals and other stupid shit that seems so silly and weird and confusing. If you didn't have to look on websites endlessly, take trips constantly and put so much effort into it all. God, you'd be so marvelous if you were all of these things.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-34746005650310160152010-09-03T20:32:00.001-07:002010-09-03T20:36:39.499-07:00And I'm off....I only have a second, because in a little bit Dominic is taking me out to do a little dancing. I had a great half day of work, spending the other half in the sun at Gas Works, napping, reading, laughing, eating, knitting and watching Friday Night Lights. But here's what I really wanted to tell you.<br /><br />This morning, like most mornings, I was walking to the gym when I looked down and saw a dribble of toothpaste on my black workout pants. This happens to me almost every day, and my head immediately goes to jizz. Yep, jizz. Why? Because when the toothpaste is all dried up, it look just like whatever was on Monica's blue dress. So the entire time I'm at the gym, doing pull ups or running 5 miles on a treadmill - I'm also spending half the time spitting on my pants, trying to get that damn spunk off me. <br /><br />Maybe tomorrow morning I'll start brushing my teeth a little more carefully.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-43770535118310248772010-08-17T22:56:00.000-07:002010-08-17T23:11:10.866-07:00Boohoo, no blog for you.Summer goes by like that sometimes. Even when the weather is crappy and then suddenly it's amazing and then it's back to be crappy, I suddenly and quite successfully kept myself pretty occupied. <br /><br />-I spent my weekends at a "summer home" on the other side of town in a nice home with a piano and one of my favorite parks right in my backyard. <br />-I camped with girlfriends and floated on a river in perfectly hot weather. <br />-I took a hellish road trip with Dominic, and while some parts were actually fun - I doubt we'll take another vacation like that one in quite some time. Or at the very least, check the weather report before we even bother getting in the car. <br />-I went to Whistler with another couple and Dominic. We had a pretty awesome time climbing through trees and watching mountain bikers do crazy stunts. I also got trashed during lunch off of 2 glasses of wine. <br />-I destroyed my garden by forgetting to water it. <br />-I almost moved. <br />-I started looking for a condo. <br />-I booked my first Christmas with Dominic's family in freezing cold Buffalo. <br />-I decided to get rid of a lot of stuff that was just starting to pile up and become junk. <br />-I gave to Kiva.org (today, actually) and feel pretty darn good about it. <br />-I ran lots, hiked not enough and only biked a few times. <br />-I canned blueberries for the first time!<br />-I went to the smallest music festival ever in Anacortes and had a real relaxing time with Dominic. <br />-I convinced friends and Dominic to come with me and get midnight massages in the International District. <br />-I almost shit myself in the middle of a park. <br />-I used a trainer for the first time and it wasn't as boring as I thought it would be. In fact, I still use his program every day and feel totally different. <br />-I bet on horsies!<br />-I had a neighborhood bbq, some impromtu bbqs and one at a friend's house where we basically forced them to have a bbq. <br />-And I started sleeping in till SEVEN AM, instead of 5. <br /><br />Summer's weather might've been hohum, but summer itself was pretty rad. Here's hoping Fall will be just as nice.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-35983203759298095662010-07-30T10:51:00.001-07:002010-07-30T11:06:19.189-07:00One of those days.Morning: I go into the locker room of my neighborhood gym. I trust this gym enough to not lock my stuff up. It's the first place ever that I feel comfortable doing that. Lo and behold, my jacket and keys inside said jacket were stolen. It's such a small, stupid thing but I immediately felt down about it. I felt robbed - and I was. Worse off, the man at the desk was convinced I just missplaced it and had to prove to him by walking around 3 times searching for it that it was indeed stolen. By the 3rd roundabout, I was getting teary and calling Dominic to come home cause I had no way to get into the house. He didn't pick up. <br /><br />After morning: I'm thinking of ways to get into the house. I had left a message on Dominic's phone, but his phone blows huger chunks that a sorority girl at a frat party. Plus, I knew he was in a meeting that could've taken hours. I walked to my friend's house hoping she happened to be home, when I knew she was in Denver. So then I thought maybe I could climb my neighbor's shed because our second floor window was open. But then the lightbulb went off inside my noggin, and aha! Our living room window was unlocked and I climbed on through. Crisis diverted. <br /><br />Afternoon: Dominic and I got an invite to go on a HUGE sailboat. This thing was totally sweet and we were very grateful to be allowed on. <br /><br />Shortly after the afternoon: As we were sailing onto the Elliot Bay, I sat on one of the available chairs. Immediately thereafter, I felt like something was poking me so I stood up to move the hooks that I thought were digging into my skin, when I sat it. A bee. Yep, I sat on a bee. It stung and it hurt, but I was a big girl. It actually didn't hurt nearly as bad as when I was stung on the bottom of my foot and so I believe I'm kinda a bee charmer and can just deal with these things. Dominic was very concerned and nice and made sure I was okay, when I was all, "Sure. I'm fine. Is it red? Let's just look at the view. This is silly." I put some baking soda paste on it and voila, another crisis diverted. <br /><br />Nighttime: The view of Seattle on the water was just crazy incredible. It was one of those perfect nights, where we were all eating grilled prawns and steaks and watermelon, while watching the sun go down over the Olympics. It's nights like that that make me feel alive and grateful for the things I have. The people I love. And the beauty in everything.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-58453436626062126872010-07-20T18:13:00.001-07:002010-07-20T18:26:34.087-07:00I remember when...-I wasn't scared to sleep alone. <br />-I was dared to eat a huge ice cream sundae and did it. <br />-you couldn't pay me to run. <br />-I got stoned multiple times a day. <br />-I didn't even think of things like babies, a mortgage or retirement plans. <br />-I thought no one had the problems I had to deal with. <br />-I struggled to pay the rent. <br />-the amount of my loans was more than what I was worth. <br />-I didn't know much about anything. <br />-I only made scarves, lots and lots of scarves. <br />-I hated the winter in Michigan. <br />-I loved swimming in Florida. <br />-Dominic came to my cube and asked me if he could steal my music and we talked and he made me laugh. <br />-I got in trouble during camp and I was on the payphone with my Mom, crying in the middle of the 1996 Olympics. <br />-following Dave Matthews Band one summer. <br />-I walked down the street in hot pink shorts, listening to my ipod in one hand and Dominic's hand in the other - all while laughing hysterically on a hot, summer Seattle day. <br />-the feeling I had when I beat my Grandma in gin. Victorious. <br />-I was the laziest person ever. <br />-I could eat an entire carton of peanut butter cookies, still feel hungry and not gain a thing. <br />-someone didn't label the decaf properly at work and I almost lost my mind because suddenly I was on some crazy jittery high from way too much coffee caffeine. <br />-an Italian man felt pity on my friend and I, and made us dinner when we had no place to stay in Genoa. <br />-I laughed like a donkey. <br />-someone told me I talk too much. <br />-you say you love me.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-31961095433962900912010-07-07T07:02:00.000-07:002010-07-07T18:49:29.325-07:00So I'm in a porta potty...WARNING: This is not for the faint of heart. There. I warned you. <br /><br />Yesterday, I was planning to meet Aubrey for some crazy workout thing that involved jumping in sand and doing push ups till your arms break off. I was already worried to begin with, but what came next might just haunt me till the day I die. <br /><br />Because this workout place was in the middle of a park not too far from me, I grabbed my ipod and walked there. 45 minutes later I thought I found the place, but I couldn't find anyone. And then it hit me. My stomach. Oh, my stomach. I needed a bathroom pronto and luckily I saw a sign seconds before pointing to one. So I walked a little faster. <br /><br />Then Aubrey called. To me it sounded like, "Wah wah wah wah wah" because I was in some bathroom mission haze and just couldn't concentrate. I was pulling on every door in the Visitor Center without any luck. I was getting sweaty - the kind of sweaty that piles up on your forehead when you're about to shit yourself. <br /><br />I saw that I was kinda in the middle of the park. I didn't hear anyone and for a split second I thought about squatting. I'd use a few leaves I thought. It would be like I was a dog, I thought. <br /><br />But I just couldn't, because I knew if I did that would be the exact moment a child with a video camera trying to make his Youtube debut would be walking on by. <br /><br />So, I kept walking and there it was. This shining temple of a porta potty. In reality this could've been a dumpster or a crack den, but at that point all I needed was 4 walls and a pot. <br /><br />Mind you I'm still on the phone, now quivering because I'm too scared to even think about the porta potty being occupied or closed for repair. But alas, it's open and I tell Aubrey "BYE! I HAVE TO GO NOW!"<br /><br />I squat and boy, oh boy, this is relief like no other. Like I've climbed to the top of Mount Rainier or I just found out I won a billion dollars in apples. But then, the unthinkable occurs to me. After 5 minutes of squatting, I go for it - the toilet paper, or as I would put it - the two tubes taunting me with nothing but its cardboard tubeness. And I sit there just staring at those tubes, because now what the fuck am I suppossed to do? With tubes? With no toilet paper and a shitty ass to wipe? <br /><br />AHHHHHHHHHH! I just saw what hell must look like, and it basically looks like a big heaping pile of porta potty shit. <br /><br />So, I'm scrambling - looking around for anything that could potentially be toilet paper. A sock left behind. A piece of paper. A wrapper from my gum. Anything. I had a towel that was going to be used for the work out, but that was my last resort. The towel was whiter than my teeth and I really didn't want to have to use it. <br /><br />I'm still squatting at this point and the phone rings again. <br /><br />"OHMYGODAUBREYDOYOUHAVEANYTOILETPAPERINTHECAR!?!?!?!?"<br /><br />"Shit, I don't. I have nothing."<br /><br />"Ugh. Okay, well I'm in the shitter so just come here and I'll meet you soon."<br /><br />"Where are you?"<br /><br />And I'm thinking, "AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"<br /><br />I think I actually give her directions - and I have no idea how. I was in such a weird out of body experience by now that I just went with it. I told her to sit tight, I'll be right there, but I need to wipe my ass first and foremost. <br /><br />And that's when I turn around and see my potential saving grace. The toilet seat cover thingie. Sure 'nof there wasn't any toilet seat covers, but there was the case that they usually come in. And THAT cardboard was easier to rip up then the tube cardboard that had no toilet paper on it. So there I was, frantically ripping up big pieces of cardboard so that I could properly cover my hand and wipe. <br /><br />And thank god this was one of those poops that magically didn't leave a lot behind. The crisis was slowly coming to an end. I even had enough cardboard to place on the seat since squatting for that long was now making my legs wobbly. I took a seat and contemplated what was happening around me. It was laughable, and scary and I knew it would be a story to tell. <br /><br />We never did end up finding the crazy workout place so we took a walk around the park instead. I actually found a real bathroom at some point and ran in for a proper wipe and a good hand washing. And then I saw a pretty view of water and mountains and tried to forget the whole thing.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-74473554371334421832010-06-30T15:01:00.001-07:002010-06-30T15:42:24.896-07:00Thinking out loud...Every time Dominic and I even consider talking about walking down some stupid aisle (but replace that aisle with a trail somewhere out in Moab) BAM - someone we know gets a divorce, and we're right back where we started. <br /><br />Yes, we love each other. <br />Yes, we already live together, deal with money, argue about stupid things like farting, cook for one another and offer our hand to hold at the doctor's office when one of us gets sick. <br />Yes, we started talking about having babies in the future. YES MOM, WE DO TALK ABOUT THAT BUT WE'RE SCARED AND BABIES COST A LOT AND WE STILL WANT TO GO TO EGYPT AND FRANCE AND COSTA RICA!!! AND WE ALSO LIKE TO SLEEP! AND I LIKE MY BOOBS AND MY ABS ARE PRETTY AWESOME RIGHT NOW!<br />Yes, we want to be together forever.<br />And yes, we pinkie promised this in a shower one time. <br /><br />But god, does anything ever last? Maybe that's not a great way to think about things. Like, let's not get hitched because it doesn't work for anyone else. But that's all I can help thinking about. And even if we do last, what's the difference if we had some ceremony - so we can get more stuff we don't need? So, we have an excuse to take another trip (we take plenty)? So our family can say, "we saw it so it must be true love now." Meh, it all seems silly to us right now. And it also seems financially draining if it doesn't work out. Because either way, even if we don't ever get married - if we break up next year or 20 years from now, whether we exchange rings - it'll still be hard emotionally. It's the financial mess (for the wedding AND the divorce) that seems ugly, annoying and sometimes downright crazy. <br /><br />One time not too long ago, after watching an episode of Thirtysomething where the perfect couple was struggling to connect, Dominic asked if we knew anyone in a healthy, happy long term relationship. I had to think for a while. And finally I said, "Your parents and both my grandparents."<br /><br />There's always common law, right?Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-19830574655306187942010-06-28T17:32:00.000-07:002010-06-28T20:32:59.597-07:00In this world where vacations go exactly how you planned them...Where every day is sunshine and roses. Where there's no traffic and every taco costs 25 cents instead of $30. Where the hiking isn't muddy and Hearst Castle is always open - even on days when it's not supposed to be. Where there's no fog and no rain and no June Gloom. Where your massage dude doesn't speak, and where he certainly doesn't say things like, "Have you had a baby? Because your arm is soooo strong." Where the sushi in LA is just what you wanted. Where you don't get sick from the hotel air conditioner. Where pools and hot tubs can magically cheer anyone up, even if you were hysterically crying before. Where the second B in B&B should still stand for breakfast - not hard boiled eggs and hot water. Where you see old friends, and try to convince them to move to Seattle. Where you spend quality time with one another watching Thirtysomething. Where there are bonfires and smores and beer and lots and lots of other things going around. Where you really love that you can talk to your boyfriends friends like you've known them forever, but you've only just met. Where you go down windy roads for a bit too long. Where you almost hit cow and see the Goonies house. Where you buy a bathing suit from a designer named Barrie! Where you talk about babies and marriage and how many other couples do it right. Where you play blackgammon in the bathroom every morning and knit during long drives. Where the weather is amazing driving home and the windmills are a sight to see. And you try to remember to go back to Big Sur, Pismo Beach and Ashland. Where nothing is perfect, and it's probably the worst roadtrip you've ever had - but you had it together, and one day - like yesterday, we'll laugh and laugh about how ridiculous it all was. And that is okay.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-34129747866921902302010-05-19T22:37:00.000-07:002010-05-27T07:01:36.239-07:00I'm 31, people.I just painted my fingernails neon green. If I were in a teenager's room, with one of those blacklights my nails would be the first thing you see. Why is it whenever I paint them I feel like they are someone else's hands? I'm always surprised to see them done up, like "Who did that to me?" It's all very confusing until one nail starts to chip and then I remember me again. <br /><br />In other news, this morning I saw a woman wearing a pink slipper on her left foot and an oversized men's loafer on her right. She had a cane and stopped every few minutes to look around, as if she just lost that other slipper. I wanted to tell her it's probably in a garbage somewhere. <br /><br />And then I saw a guy at the gym who I always see. He actually drives me crazy, because he walks around like he hates being there. He's slouched over and acts like Eeyore. When I hear him shuffle his feet and act all, 'dopey dopey doh' I just want to shake him. Instead, I just do more crunches and sit up a little straighter.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-9781295147951086332010-05-18T09:58:00.001-07:002010-05-19T06:10:19.302-07:00ImportsDo you ever go through stages of what you like? I do. <br /><br />Sometimes I go crazy for apples, and then I move onto yogurt, and then onto peanut butter, and then I like gardening and then there's hiking and so on. <br /><br />I'm like a 10-year old who can't decide which group to join. <br /><br />And this is how I am with music. I will never let go of my favorites. Cat Stevens, Hot Chip, George Harrison, Bob Dylan and The Raincoats will always make me smile. I could listen to 'If you want to sing out, sing out' a million times and I would request it a million more. But I remember a time when I saw 5 Dave Matthews concerts in one summer, and now you couldn't pay me to buy a cd let alone see him tap his toes in a show. <br /><br />This year I'm really digging any import I can get my hands on - for free. Yes, I'm one of those people who went to Sonic Boom the other day, asked a guy what he would recommend in the way of xylophones and Zimbabwe music. He showed me his favorites, I remembered them and then immediately got them at the library. <br /><br />I can't get enough of this music. I dance around the whole house, while Dominic laughs. It makes me happy. The words make no sense so I can't sing, but I can shake it ridiculously. I don't care that I have no moves or that my neighbors might see. I love this music too much. It's like soulful meets rhythm meets awesome.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-66333787551404908532010-05-15T09:49:00.001-07:002010-05-15T09:57:22.150-07:00I get up too early.I've noticed that if I don't set my alarm, even on the weekends I wake up REALLY early. Like 5am on a friggin' Saturday. I used to eat breakfast, then go back to sleep till about 9, but that just made me even more tired. So I stopped my morning nap but now I'm just the antsy in my pantsy. Why doesn't the world want to hang out with me at 7 in the morning? Or with a to-do list that's mile long, how come I can never muster up the time/energy to do them? Probably because all I really want to do is go by the beach and read The Help and then take a nap in the beautiful weather we're having. But I have to wait another 4 hours because the bus takes way too long to get to the beach I want to go to and Dominic won't be back till noon. The Waiting. The Torture. <br /><br />I guess this means I'll have to walk around with my ipod searching for garage sales and hoping that one of them has the lamp I actually like or vintage lounge chairs for our lawn that don't cost a pretty penny. <br /><br />Stupid blog today, but as you can tell I'm procrastinating just to waste another minute here.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-42732863896349182522010-04-30T21:35:00.000-07:002010-04-30T21:50:01.494-07:00I'm losing it.Exhibit A: A rare hardcover Anne of Green Gables trilogy. Worth $XX? I got it for $1 at a book sale and planned on reading it over our roadtrip. GONE. <br /><br />Exhibit B: A knitting book with bag patterns. Worth $15. I reminded myself that I really wanted to make a certain one that was out of this book and planned on making it after I finished my current project. VANISHED. <br /><br />Exhibit C: My National Park Pass. Worth $80. I was about to reserve a camping spot for an upcoming trip with my girlfriends when I realized I could get a discount with my card. MISSING. <br /><br />I'm pretty sure I'm losing it. I'm not the kind of person who misplaces things. I'm very, very organized. Even in the days where I was stoned 23 out of 24 hours of the day, I knew where my shit was. And now, in the present, I not only know where my crap is but I know where my Mom has her lighter and where Dominic's passport is too. Which makes me feel even crazier that these items have just gone missing. Was it the fact that I moved around year after year? Was it a case of spring cleaning? Or is it that I've simply lost my fucking mind?Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-56624137406283783732010-04-21T09:08:00.000-07:002010-04-21T09:19:56.954-07:00In a place where fancy 3-course meals are only $25...Where the fettucini is hand shaven and the lamb is braised in wine. The piano man plays songs from Billy Joel to Billy Jean. In this actual world the waiters serve food like they're synchronize swimming and the valet boys accidentally hit the gas too hard. In this place, they have guys who pull out your chair, to fix your napkin back on your lap and I'm pretty sure if I asked they might've braided my hair. This is where you have the greatest views, the nicest hostess and no one spits in your food. And by the end of the evening, when you're pleasantly full, wearing a fancy black dress and watching others order the $100 duck - you lean in to ask your boyfriend, "We're still hippies right? You still have your tag from Value Village on your sports coat and we're eating on sale." He agrees, you kiss and the night is all yours.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-92015488654317119282010-04-12T13:05:00.000-07:002010-04-12T13:33:38.451-07:00Move over.It's in the middle of the night, on a Saturday:<br /><br />Me: You're taking half of the bed. <br /><br />Dominic: Don't we both get half?<br /><br />Me: Grumble grumble, asdklfja;ds, zzzzzzz<br /><br />I totally forgot about this conversation until I got home late from a concert last night and we were getting ready for bed. When Dominic reminded me of how silly it sounded, we couldn't stop laughing and then I probably farted. I love relationships.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-74716167129361196932010-04-10T21:35:00.001-07:002010-04-10T21:46:26.160-07:00Okay, go!In a little over a month, we're taking a road trip down the Pacific Coast Highway all the way to San Diego and then driving back up through the middle. We're not putting a time limit on this (oh, the joy of freelancing) so it could take anywhere from 1-4 weeks. We've planned the first 3 days and then I got sick of guessing where we would be when so we're winging it. <br /><br />That's where you come in. Where should we stop? What should we eat? Where should we stay? <br /><br />To give you a little background about us - we are not shoppers. Neither of us buy anything on vacation. Well, I used to buy a magnet as my memento of where I have been but our new fridge isn't magnetic so now I really buy nothing. <br /><br />I like to hike and see the unusual shit. If there's a random dinosaur statue in the middle of nowhere, that's where I want to be. If there's a museum all about gum, tell me. And if there's a farmer's market anywhere, I need to know. <br /><br />Dominic likes food. If other road trips say much about us, we will probably eat out a few times a week (total). Because if there's a campground with a bbq that's where we rather be. We don't need to be in a restaurant if there's a beach that has a better view. But where should we go on the days where we don't want to set up camp? The healthier the better. Remember, we'll be in a car so the less farts and immediate stops, the better. No buffets. No 72 oz steaks. No big family restaurants. <br /><br />He also likes history. Did someone famous die on a cliff? Was there a president somewhere? Let me know, so I can let him know. <br /><br />What else? I don't know. You tell me. <br /><br />Oh, and thanks.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-6044757246297670922010-04-09T03:42:00.000-07:002010-04-09T03:59:40.558-07:00And in this snoreless world, where I am sleeping at 3:42amWhere I sleep a full 8 hours refreshed and ready to start the day. There should be a heaping bowl of Cheerios with a banana, raisins and almonds please. The TV should be set to Bravo or How I Met Your Mother, and there should never be repeats of anything ever. In this lovely land, my boyfriend breathes with ease and I'm not typing this in the other room with a headache and a wineache and a desire to stomp on our wooden floors like a child. In fact, this is the kind of place where the comforter smells like lavender and flowers grow by my feet. Daisies please, but not gerberdaisies because I hate those and I hate anyone who says they like them because they are stupid and wrong and they probably like Clinique - ugh. In this dream world of sleepy wonder I'd like my feet to be warm and not require socks every night. I'd like my hands to be a perfect temperature and I'd love a great big cup of tea to be ready on command with the good, expensive kind of honey I simply can not bring myself to buy in normal world land. This is where I have one of those foam beds just so every now and then I can jump up and down with a glass of wine or a bowling ball at the other end, like the infomercial tells me I can. In my special place I'd like there to never feel a draft through our window and for everything that needs to be done for the day - like the dishes, the laundry, the weeding, the garbage - has already magically happened by our live-in maid that we never see or hear or have to pay.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-67543163906740767192010-04-05T23:08:00.000-07:002010-04-05T23:22:41.829-07:00My boyfriend's making me do it.Get your mind out of the gutter. <br /><br />Today, Dominic asked me "Why haven't you mentioned our little site on your blog?". He didn't say why, but I know the reason. For whatever the case may be, I seem to get a lot of hits on this here stoopid writing forum. I'm thinking a lot of it is due to the little button on the bottom that lets bored people at work surf through the world of blogs. I was one of you not too long ago, so I can understand. <br /><br />So for what it's worth, I present you with <a href="www.lastdyingwish.com">www.lastdyingwish.com</a><br /><br />It's a little thing I came up with after a good friend lost her good friend, and then a few months later she also lost her dad. She's one of those people who keeps getting struck by lightning, but manages to live to tell the tale - over and over and over again. Some say that she could be jinxed, I just say she's a fighter and the girl I can talk to about vibrators. <br /><br />When she first had to deal, I kept thinking, fuck - what if no one knows what my last dying wish is? What if I tell everyone what I want, but when I get hit by that almighty rock, no one remembers. Or worse, they remember something I told them when I was stoned. <br /><br />Thus, I wanted a record of what my last dying wish should be. So I bothered Dominic until he couldn't take it anymore and the site was born. Anyone can enter their last dying wish and of course I ended up writing something totally silly - something that's not actually what I would want on my deathbed - but hey, it's a website that we created and we think it's kinda cool. <br /><br />So check it out - for my boyfriend's sake.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-65438778973564247362010-04-02T09:12:00.000-07:002010-04-02T09:19:22.489-07:00Please don't do this. Please.When I spend an hour and a half at the gym, I know I might not smell like butterflies and candy corns. But why should I have to endure the smell of a fresh fart in the middle of a narrow hallway? Couldn't you have saved that gas when you entered the much wider locker room? Or in the actual gym, where you could easily walk away and pretend it was grunts o' lots guy? No, you couldn't do that could you? You just had to eat burritos last night and then you waited for the perfect opportunity to let one rip in one of the tightest space ever, so that the smell couldn't properly escape. <br /><br />So, from all of us at the gym, I would like to say fuck you. I hate you. And I really despise your fart.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-82838838250350610952010-03-31T18:11:00.000-07:002010-03-31T18:19:27.922-07:00If our siblings were here they would be our friends.Sometimes I feel like I do a lot of work to maintain friendships. It can get exhausting. Last month I decided I'm not going to plan nearly as much, just for this very reason. I was sick of being the one to always ask to hang out and never getting much in return. <br /><br />Dominic and I seem to have this conversation every now and then:<br /><br />"We're cool, right?"<br /><br />"Oh yeah, we're like the coolest, funniest people I know."<br /><br />"So how come no one calls us to hang out on a Friday night anymore? Did we get old? Are our friends lame? What happened?" <br /><br />"I have no idea, but let's go back to talking about how cool we are."<br /><br />When I talked to my sister today, she complained of the same thing. When I talk to Dominic's sister about this, she too says she has no friends either. What the fuck? Both of these people are like the best people I know. And if we all lived in the same city I'm pretty sure they would be the ones to actually call me on any given night just to see what I was doing. Heck, they might forget to call and just knock on our door. Because that would be something they could totally do, not just because they're family - but because they're our friends. <br /><br />And I miss my friends.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-91589182470892880312010-03-24T13:36:00.000-07:002010-03-24T13:52:12.547-07:00Why do all crackhead women sound exactly the same?Right now it's a pretty amazing day in Seattle. I've got a few things lined up for next week that actually involves getting a paycheck. A town not far from here that I love closed school for the day due to sun. And in a few hours I'll be celebrating a friend's birthday in the only way you can celebrate it - with hot dogs and yogurt and asian desserts.<br /><br />And as I type this I'm sitting at a park where the variety of people is up there with what you would see in the middle of Central Park. Except this park is about .00000001 the size. <br /><br />To my right there's an Asian mother and son. The stupid kid is running circles around a water fountain, while the mother stares and shouts things I can't understand real fast like. <br /><br />Next to her is a grizzly man who hasn't shaved his beard in about 50 years. He keeps sneezing and says to himself, "Bless me." He's about 15 feet away from me, but I can still smell his lack of showering. <br /><br />Behind me, there's someone sleeping. I can't tell if it's a guy or a girl because he/she is covered by a huge red sleeping bag. It looks like he's been sleeping since yesterday. And it's 2 pm right now. <br /><br />Behind him, there's a wheelchair. There's no one in this wheelchair of course. It's just there. Hanging out. <br /><br />Then there's a normal looking guy, with his shoes off, simply relaxing. I wonder if he's been recently fired like me. I see a lot of people during the day, now that i have the luxury of doing nothing. I keep thinking, do these people work? Why are there so many of us at the gym at 10:30 am? How are we all affording this? Why do we all look so happy? <br /><br />In front of me, there's an overweight lady finishing her crossword puzzle. She has a shopping cart that she's resting her feet on. I'm pretty sure that shopping cart was a few blocks away from this park 2 hours ago. <br /><br />Then, to my far left there's the typical loud talking bum crowd. They are yelling about who knows what. Actually, as I type this one of the men scream out, "I want some fucking ass corn flakes! Meh! Ahh! Meh! ALJDLSFAL! IWANNA! SHIT!" Seriously, that is exactly what he just said. Word for word. There was a couple sitting with them, and at one point the woman, who this title is named after, just wouldn't stop talking about nonsense. I think someone did her wrong and she just couldn't deal anymore. She, like the corn flakes guy, thought it was necessary to talk REALLY LOUD. <br /><br />I am of the opposite persuasion when it comes to talking in public. Dominic has to say, "What?" about a million times during a dinner date or when we're walking around because I just don't want other people listening to me. People who talk to me on the bus know this all too well. And more likely than naught, I hang up on you the second I'm sitting next to someone - because god forbid they hear me talking about what I've done with my day. <br /><br />Like they care.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9628759.post-13680054153911254392010-03-13T21:40:00.000-08:002010-03-13T21:44:29.443-08:00I can make things out of things!This blog will be short and totally not exciting or entertaining at all. It won't say silly or witty things either. It will simply say that I made my own tooth powder and deodorant today. I used simple ingredients and my new knitting friend showed me how, and even gave me the tools to do so. She also handed me a pamphlet that teaches me to make my own no-shampoo poo (because I don't shampoo my hair and if you have curly hair you shouldn't either - because it's evil and wrong and basically like putting satan in your mane). And really that's it. See, I told you. Totally not exciting or entertaining at all. But I just really wanted to get that out there. <br /><br />I love you all, except for those I don't know. Because that would be weird.Barriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08181666882587766770noreply@blogger.com6