Dear Birthday Santa-
I was finally able to sit in sunshine for a few minutes today after work, since the sun hadn't set yet. It was awesome and got me to thinking about the obvious: my 32nd birthday is coming. Santa, I've been smacked around pretty hard by life these last two years and I think I've been pretty good, considering. And since I've been told I'm difficult to shop for, I'm making a list:
1. awesome socks. My grandma who passed away recently had been my top supplier in awesome, ugly, or just plain "what the hell?" socks for years. I don't think she meant to feed my sarcastic clothing style, but she did. I walk a lot and socks only have so many miles in them. My sarcastic sock supply is running low!!
2. mid-level to fancy tequilla. I didn't mean to become that one girl who is snotty about tequila; it turns out, though, that my taste buds have different life goals than I do. In spite of working two jobs, I am brutally poor (which leads to #3 on my list) and haven't had my own bottle of tequilla in months.
3. groceries. How the tuition taxation works at the day job is that each of my paychecks looks like I make about seven times as much as I really do (even though I'm taking only two or three credits each quarter!!!) which puts me in (approximately) the same tax bracket as a third-tier movie star. I'm grateful for my second job, since in the current economy, there are many people far worse off than I am. And I've been fortunate enough to have two grocery sponsors each month (thank you, thank you, thank you), but I'm starting to feel the moochy label coming on. I know I probably should've put off school for another year, but I'd waited for almost a decade and was feeling a bit antsy, and I didn't think the whole world economy would fall apart like it has. I'm just thinking a little bit of groceries would give me a different option from the bizarre dinners that I've been living on for the past while. Not that it's bad; I'm just saying options are nice.
4. a latte. I had the realization yesterday that I've not had a latte in at least six weeks. This needs to be remedied.
All in all, Santa, life is going all right. I sleep a bit, I work out a bit, I eat peanuts to a probably unhealthy degree, and I play cello to a definitely unhealthy degree. I just know I've been trying to take care of myself on my own for the last six + months and have been thinking about what would be nice to have around as I transition into another year in my thirties. The latte though...I'm really feeling it. I used to go through phases of a latte a day. What would be the best gift to me currently, Santa, is a coffee shop of my own. Hmm. I think I just drooled a little bit.
Birthday Santa, I know you have a few other billion birthdays to attend to, so thanks for reading my wish list. In the past you've brought me awesome adventures and unexpected gifts; I just thought I'd help out a bit, you know? Anyway, my sponsored rice is done cooking in the next room and I've got some music to practice tonight.
Moral of today's story: sometimes John Denver did know what he was singing about. Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy, too.
An Erinku:
hair
finally long enough
for an
80's pony tail.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Pirouettes in Snow
After days and days of feeling sickly, I started to feel a bit better yesterday. Better enough to be sassy and to want to watch t.v. Due to vicious irony, my bunny-ear-converter box broke and no longer connects my t.v. to the wider world around it. So. I discovered the evil of cable while working out at the local gym. You plug in your headphones and suddenly you’ve walked on a treadmill for two hours and seen a variety of commercials.
Gyms are strange little worlds that I’ve only marginally visited in the past. They smell of sock and sound of lowest-common-denominator rock. I have been amused by various on-line postings about how folks can’t wait for February for the “phony resolution people to leave and us REAL regulars get to have our gym back.” Such rants make me think that perhaps the resolution people felt pretty unwelcome by the regulars and that the regulars could offer to show how to use machines instead of sitting scornfully atop their lofty spinning machine. But I digress. I joined in February and go in the middle of the night, so that must make me some sort of regular. Or some sort of phony who currently can’t walk my usual three+ miles due to snow and having all my daylight hours scheduled solidly. Hmm.
Anyway, I was excited to feel good enough to finally want to watch t.v. At the gym, there was the typical guy doing speed lunge laps which is basically where you very quickly walk like a kitty stretching out its back leg over and over again in straight line around the gym. It seems to be very prevalent here in spite of the fact that it’s very silly-looking. Sometimes when I arrive, there are groups of six or so people doing these laps. It’s like performance art.
However, since the one other person was doing his laps, this meant the cable-powered machines were quite open. I decided to try something new, something scary, and something much taller than my usual treadmill or bicycle. I tried the elliptical. I got my ass kicked in just under eight minutes. I sheepishly walked back over to my treadmill and walked several miles in a short amount of time. I watched that “Clean House” show which always makes me feel better about the fact that I’ve not done my dishes for a day or two.
My story is boring. On my walk home in the snow, I noticed footprints heading in the same direction. Someone had been walking a dog and from the looks of it, the dog was large. Every time the doggie footprints went aways from the person, there was a little pirouette in the person’s footsteps. Sometimes even proof of sliding. I think the dog was having a good time.
My goal next time is to get my ass kicked by the elliptical in just under ten minutes. I am a woman with goals, who smells like sock in the middle of the night, and who likes to imagine people dancing with dogs in a snow storm.
An Erinku:
I will not rest
until I have
a scarf longer
than Tom Baker’s
Gyms are strange little worlds that I’ve only marginally visited in the past. They smell of sock and sound of lowest-common-denominator rock. I have been amused by various on-line postings about how folks can’t wait for February for the “phony resolution people to leave and us REAL regulars get to have our gym back.” Such rants make me think that perhaps the resolution people felt pretty unwelcome by the regulars and that the regulars could offer to show how to use machines instead of sitting scornfully atop their lofty spinning machine. But I digress. I joined in February and go in the middle of the night, so that must make me some sort of regular. Or some sort of phony who currently can’t walk my usual three+ miles due to snow and having all my daylight hours scheduled solidly. Hmm.
Anyway, I was excited to feel good enough to finally want to watch t.v. At the gym, there was the typical guy doing speed lunge laps which is basically where you very quickly walk like a kitty stretching out its back leg over and over again in straight line around the gym. It seems to be very prevalent here in spite of the fact that it’s very silly-looking. Sometimes when I arrive, there are groups of six or so people doing these laps. It’s like performance art.
However, since the one other person was doing his laps, this meant the cable-powered machines were quite open. I decided to try something new, something scary, and something much taller than my usual treadmill or bicycle. I tried the elliptical. I got my ass kicked in just under eight minutes. I sheepishly walked back over to my treadmill and walked several miles in a short amount of time. I watched that “Clean House” show which always makes me feel better about the fact that I’ve not done my dishes for a day or two.
My story is boring. On my walk home in the snow, I noticed footprints heading in the same direction. Someone had been walking a dog and from the looks of it, the dog was large. Every time the doggie footprints went aways from the person, there was a little pirouette in the person’s footsteps. Sometimes even proof of sliding. I think the dog was having a good time.
My goal next time is to get my ass kicked by the elliptical in just under ten minutes. I am a woman with goals, who smells like sock in the middle of the night, and who likes to imagine people dancing with dogs in a snow storm.
An Erinku:
I will not rest
until I have
a scarf longer
than Tom Baker’s
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Self-awareness and how to have a bus seat to yourself
During the past year or so, I’ve taken to listening to much angrier music than I have in the past. I’m not talking about angsty-Beethoven angry, I’m talking about loud guitars with folks screaming lyrics angry. Today on my commute, I had my radio going pretty loud when I wondered what I was doing. Was I singing along? Screaming along? Some sort of hybrid? Scringing? Sireaming? I’m sure there is a word for that.
All I know is that hooting along with loud music while drinking my coffee concoction isn’t something I can do comfortably on the bus. Hmm. Although that’s exactly the sort of behavior that guarantees no one would sit next to me. It would also guarantee that the people in neighboring seats would exchange nervous looks. Hmm. Options…
Moral of today’s story: Dear toes, thank you for waking up in the middle of the night because you were chilly under flannel sheets and two comforters while the heater was on. In the future, toes, try and be like the rest of my body and just admit that there is absolutely no reason to be chilly in these conditions.
An Erinku:
My big sneeze
answered
by silence.
I bless myself.
All I know is that hooting along with loud music while drinking my coffee concoction isn’t something I can do comfortably on the bus. Hmm. Although that’s exactly the sort of behavior that guarantees no one would sit next to me. It would also guarantee that the people in neighboring seats would exchange nervous looks. Hmm. Options…
Moral of today’s story: Dear toes, thank you for waking up in the middle of the night because you were chilly under flannel sheets and two comforters while the heater was on. In the future, toes, try and be like the rest of my body and just admit that there is absolutely no reason to be chilly in these conditions.
An Erinku:
My big sneeze
answered
by silence.
I bless myself.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Words can't quite capture the epic-ness
Right. I've gone off before about my spectactular lack of coordination. Today, I topped my own personal best. My story starts off...at a gym. Contrary to expectations, I did not faceplant on the cycling machine. Nor on the treadmill. I got through my little routine just fine. I did, however, stay a bit too long after sleeping in a bit too late. This, in turn, makes me zoom a little more quickly to the bus station.
In keeping with the irony that powers the universe, since I was running late, I was following the world's slowest driver. I waited through two rotations at one stoplight because he was overly cautious as well. My grumblings increased with each light rotation.
Finally, I zip into the parking lot. The last express bus is getting ready to leave, so I frantically grab my coat and purse, lock my doors and run full speed. For five steps. I tripped on a root in the little garden area. If I had my hands out, I could have done a cartwheel-like motion. Alas. My head is lucky enough to smack the soft dirt and return all my momentum back to the earth. I felt my feet tower above me before flumping back down. The momentum of that pops my upper body off the ground until gravity grabs me back. My shoe was flung.
I stood up and was grateful to realize that not only was my intended bus full of people staring, but there was another full bus pulling in to let folks off, and a third going in the other direction was parked in front of my bus. I, being full of reason and completely covered in dirt and decorative bark, quickly gathered my scattered things and trotted (not ran) back to my car as if I forgot something important.
Today, I'll drive to work because I really couldn't handle:
A) getting on that bus after the most spectactular 10 seconds of my life, and
B) I am still pulling bark pieces out of my pockets.
Moral of today's story: I'm going to avoid FailBlog for the next few days, on the off-chance that someone figured out a good place to tape running fails is at a bus station.
An Erinku (irony still powers the universe):
a sign at the bus station:
"Do not run after buses,
trip and fall conditions
may exist."
In keeping with the irony that powers the universe, since I was running late, I was following the world's slowest driver. I waited through two rotations at one stoplight because he was overly cautious as well. My grumblings increased with each light rotation.
Finally, I zip into the parking lot. The last express bus is getting ready to leave, so I frantically grab my coat and purse, lock my doors and run full speed. For five steps. I tripped on a root in the little garden area. If I had my hands out, I could have done a cartwheel-like motion. Alas. My head is lucky enough to smack the soft dirt and return all my momentum back to the earth. I felt my feet tower above me before flumping back down. The momentum of that pops my upper body off the ground until gravity grabs me back. My shoe was flung.
I stood up and was grateful to realize that not only was my intended bus full of people staring, but there was another full bus pulling in to let folks off, and a third going in the other direction was parked in front of my bus. I, being full of reason and completely covered in dirt and decorative bark, quickly gathered my scattered things and trotted (not ran) back to my car as if I forgot something important.
Today, I'll drive to work because I really couldn't handle:
A) getting on that bus after the most spectactular 10 seconds of my life, and
B) I am still pulling bark pieces out of my pockets.
Moral of today's story: I'm going to avoid FailBlog for the next few days, on the off-chance that someone figured out a good place to tape running fails is at a bus station.
An Erinku (irony still powers the universe):
a sign at the bus station:
"Do not run after buses,
trip and fall conditions
may exist."
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