Boring Quest for Veggies

Every time I'm away from Colorado, I go through culture shock of one sort or another. Other places don't have lovely paths to walk on, people will drink ucky beers, and you can look through an entire menu without finding a vegetarian-friendly meal. I thought about this during today's breakfast at a greasy-spoon. I tend to have vegetarian leanings and after days of constant meat, I wanted a little change. (And yes, Constant Meat would be a good band name.)

I was so bold as to walk to the local greasy-spoon and waded through pages of meaty breakfast offerings. I ordered something like the "Meaty-Meat-Meat Omlet with a side of Meat or Meat" and had them hold the meat. I received a slightly raised eyebrow in return.

I was thinking about how Boulder has multiple vegetarian-only restuarants. And how popular it is to have non-fatal food allergies in Boulder. And how bringing food to parties is a great big drama. And how I once (while a more anal veggie) went to a meaty wedding and only ate carrots and cake.

Again, I've either had not enough or far too much coffee today to be interesting. This, like all neon pink fashions, shall pass.

Moral of today's story: seriously, two lattes really should be enough.

An Erinku:
classic rock
saggy plant
shop-a second
Reno home.

It Could Be Worse

While I am fond of many things, I most enjoy it when people say things they didn't think through. A while ago, a circle of us were complaining about various things like having to work, like having a broken-car, like coming up with money for a plane ticket home, when my roomate-at-the-time said, "Oh, I know! You know what really sucks? All my parent's houses are on the beach."

During the silence that followed while we were wrapping our brains around this complaint, she continued, "Well, you know it DOES suck. Becuase sometimes instead of Hawaii or California, I really want to go skiing in the mountains. Or maybe I want to go to a beach that's not always the same temperature." And that pretty much killed that conversation.

I think about things like and am very pleased when such phrases come my way. Another favorite is the girl who, during a discussion of poverty, said, "Oh, I know ALL about poverty. My maid told me about it." Fantastic!

Alas, I've been feeling ucky today and presents have sapped the last of my creativity. But I suppose it could be worse. I mean, it would totally suck to have only have houses on the beach. Because...you might...get tired of sand and warmth? Hmm.

**And, in an odd moment of directly addressing the audience, I've finished my "Monotone Christmas" album. It's monontous and if you have a hole in your life where a monotone song or two should be, let me know...I've got lots of copies. Ad over.**

Moral of today's (a.k.a. random fact): as bad as I hurt today from working out, tomorrow will be worse and way whinier.

An Erinku:
socks
promising to glow
fade quickly
into dark

Unfortunate Acquaintance

Each morning as I stumble though my routine, I'm also going as fast as I can to get to the bus on time. Every morning, I'm running late. And every single day I pass the same guy on the street as he walks in the other direction.

One day, one of us said "Hi." We're now at the point where he says something clever about the weather every day. Actually, he usually says something painfully cliche about the weather like, "Cold enough for you?" And since I'm completely stupid in the mornings, I say "Haha! Hi!" It makes me feel dirty. Especially since I had to take off my iPod to be polite. There's no way he is as cool as what I was listening to.

And so, every day I play with the idea of running either much earlier or much later so that I miss the awkward walk-by. And every day, I manage to squeak out the door at the last minute and see him a block away from home. Such is the danger of the suburb. I use short sentences when I'm tired.

An Erinku:
pile of music
so tall
so much practicing
undone

Homeward Bound

In my little suburb, there is a program named "Call & Ride." It helps fill in gaps in the local bus service. They pick you up in their little van and take you somewhere local...like your home or to the bus station. While I rarely use it, it's very nice in theory and is absolutely the most inefficient program in the western hemisphere.

Today, since I had no need to get home in a reasonable amount of time and since it's always an adventure, I rode the Call & Ride van home. If I walk home from the bus station, it takes about 25 minutes. If I wait at the station, I can transfer to a bus and be home in 15 minutes. So. After sitting in the van for 20 minutes, we finally left the station.

One of the amazing illogical things the van does is it drops people off in the order they got on, not by location. So. You ride from one end of the suburb to the other and back to the other side again. We passed the Hobbit Hole three times before I could exit. We also passed the bus station four times and went to the exact same apartment complex twice. I got home an hour later. It hurts my brain every time I use the Call & Ride van and there are people who use it every day who I assume are completely insane.

The best part of tonight's ride was the lady who got on just before I did. She started off cranky because the driver didn't want to let us on. (He pointed out it was cold outside and when he opened the doors, it made the van cold. She pointed out it was cold outside and she'd like to ride the damn van.) She was the one who asked 15 minutes into our wait, "Are you planning on going any time soon?"

I think it was her first time on because she asked him to turn down the music (the drivers always blast easy-listening as they struggle to hear your dirctions on how to get home). And as we passed and re-passed various familiar landmarks her head-shaking-in-disbelief became bigger and bigger. When her turn came up, she kept yelling over some maudlin version of "O Holy Night" that "REALLY, JUST LET ME OUT HERE. PLEASE. I CAN WALK. STOP. HERE WILL BE FINE!" Sadly, the driver didn't hear her and she was dropped off in a seething mass at her front door. Times like these are my secret love.

An Erinku:
the crinkling
of cat food bag
of ripping
of spilling...dammit!

Uber Clumsy

I sometimes believe strongly in reincarnation. Today was one of those days. I thought about it briefly after I fell in my car. My thought process went something like, "Did I just fall in my car? Isn't that impossible? I obviously am new to the whole having limbs thing. I must be a reincarnated slug, amoeba, or seal."

If I had been asked yesterday if it was possible to fall in a car, I would have said no. Today, I am a wiser person. It is possible and I managed to end up with feet flailing in the air and much upper body stuck under the driver's seat. There wasn't even a good reason for falling, I was just reaching for my music stand across the car.

Of course, since I am the same person who cut my finger on a maxi pad, I really need to not be surprised when I damage myself in seemingly impossible ways. I just need to work more on delivery. As I was telling the whole "falling in the car" story to Chris, I was standing in the kitchen and managed--without moving my feet at all--to stumble on nothing and almost tip over. I'm totally new to feet.

An Erinku:
screaming pink
sock
rumpled on
floor