RJ's great morning capture at the dog park.Friday, November 06, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Would you turn away Lord Byron?
RJ and I hosted some of his work buddies for poker this weekend. It was a small group, most of whom aren't the biggest fans of dogs. Slightly problematic for us given we have two enormous guys, one of which (uh, Aiden) isn't happy unless he's managed to give our guests a thorough tongue bath.
Thinking to keep our guests dry, I bought a dog gate on Saturday morning, and promptly set it in the front door to air out the house. Neither RJ and I could believe we've been in our place this long without a dog gate. It's shocking really. Think of all the guests we could have protected, and all the fresh air we've been missing.
The gate served it's purpose wonderfully, and kept the pups from jumping on arriving guests. Mid-way through the night, after the dogs had settled down, we turned them loose and set the gate in the open front door.
All was well.
Until a large black lab we'd never seen rushed the house, knocked over the gate and began frolicking with Aiden in our living room. I grabbed Emmett as RJ tried to right the gate and wrangle Aiden who'd chased the lab outside. A scarily skinny guy stood on the porch mumbling at us, and at first, we thought it was his dog. A large-ish grey haired woman with barrettes huffed up our steps apologizing. Apparently she owned the enthusiastic lab, not the skinny guy.
I redirected my focus and tried to make out what skinny guy was saying as RJ manhandled Aiden through back through the door.
He asked us..."Would you turn away Lord Byron? Would you turn away William Blake? Would you turn away John Yeats?" His voice grew louder with each question.
I was confused...until I saw the tell-tale white froth on either side of his mouth.
Oh! He's cracked out.
Our open door, laughter and music was too much of a temptation for him. He wanted IN.
That wasn't going to happen. I do my good deeds/charity at work.
Not in my home at 11:00 at night.
We shut the door.
Apparently, we are the type of people who WOULD say no to Lord Byron.
RJ gave him a few minutes to clear off, then checked outside again.
It was the flair of the crack lighter that gave our guy away. He was hanging on the steps.
RJ just said "Yo man, time to get off the porch!" and the dude bolted, clearly not expecting to hear a disembodied voice coming from behind the door.
Oh, excitement.
We realized we've had no neighborhood incidents since RJ's car was broken into over a year ago - we were about due! I guess I'll take a Silverlake crack user who is easily persuaded to leave over the Echo Park heroin junkies shooting up in front of our old house any day.
Thinking to keep our guests dry, I bought a dog gate on Saturday morning, and promptly set it in the front door to air out the house. Neither RJ and I could believe we've been in our place this long without a dog gate. It's shocking really. Think of all the guests we could have protected, and all the fresh air we've been missing.
The gate served it's purpose wonderfully, and kept the pups from jumping on arriving guests. Mid-way through the night, after the dogs had settled down, we turned them loose and set the gate in the open front door.
All was well.
Until a large black lab we'd never seen rushed the house, knocked over the gate and began frolicking with Aiden in our living room. I grabbed Emmett as RJ tried to right the gate and wrangle Aiden who'd chased the lab outside. A scarily skinny guy stood on the porch mumbling at us, and at first, we thought it was his dog. A large-ish grey haired woman with barrettes huffed up our steps apologizing. Apparently she owned the enthusiastic lab, not the skinny guy.
I redirected my focus and tried to make out what skinny guy was saying as RJ manhandled Aiden through back through the door.
He asked us..."Would you turn away Lord Byron? Would you turn away William Blake? Would you turn away John Yeats?" His voice grew louder with each question.
I was confused...until I saw the tell-tale white froth on either side of his mouth.
Oh! He's cracked out.
Our open door, laughter and music was too much of a temptation for him. He wanted IN.
That wasn't going to happen. I do my good deeds/charity at work.
Not in my home at 11:00 at night.
We shut the door.
Apparently, we are the type of people who WOULD say no to Lord Byron.
RJ gave him a few minutes to clear off, then checked outside again.
It was the flair of the crack lighter that gave our guy away. He was hanging on the steps.
RJ just said "Yo man, time to get off the porch!" and the dude bolted, clearly not expecting to hear a disembodied voice coming from behind the door.
Oh, excitement.
We realized we've had no neighborhood incidents since RJ's car was broken into over a year ago - we were about due! I guess I'll take a Silverlake crack user who is easily persuaded to leave over the Echo Park heroin junkies shooting up in front of our old house any day.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
One year ago today...
One year ago today, my husband and I were on our way to Hawaii to begin our honeymoon. We celebrated our one year anniversary this weekend and reminisced about all the craziness leading up to our wedding, the drama (thanks Maid of Honor) and joy (thanks everyone else) of the actual event and subsequent months.
One year plus one day after we handfasted and said our wedding vows, I find one of our readings resonates in a way I could only imagine a year ago...
"Falling in Love is Like Owning a Dog" by Taylor Mali
First of all, it's a big responsibility, especially in a city like L. A.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
when you're walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love, ain't no one going to mess with you.
Because crooks and muggers think love is unpredictable.
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?
On cool winter nights, love is warm.
It lies between you and lives and breathes and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.
It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.
Love doesn't like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,
but you can never be mad at love for long.
Is love good all the time? No! No!
Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.
Love makes messes.
Love leaves you little surprises here and there.
Love needs lots of cleaning up after.
Sometimes you just want to get love fixed.
Sometimes you want to roll up a piece of newspaper
and swat love on the nose, not so much to cause pain,
just to let love know Don't you ever do that again!
Sometimes love just wants to go for a nice long walk.
Because love loves exercise.
It runs you around the block and leaves you panting.
It pulls you in several different directions at once,
or winds around and around you until you're all wound up and can't move.
But love makes you meet people wherever you go.
People who have nothing in common but love
stop and talk to each other on the street.
Throw things away and love will bring them back,
again, and again, and again.
But most of all, love needs love, lots of it.
And in return, love loves you and never stops.
One year plus one day after we handfasted and said our wedding vows, I find one of our readings resonates in a way I could only imagine a year ago...
"Falling in Love is Like Owning a Dog" by Taylor Mali
First of all, it's a big responsibility, especially in a city like L. A.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
when you're walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love, ain't no one going to mess with you.
Because crooks and muggers think love is unpredictable.
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?
On cool winter nights, love is warm.
It lies between you and lives and breathes and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.
It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.
Love doesn't like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,
but you can never be mad at love for long.
Is love good all the time? No! No!
Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.
Love makes messes.
Love leaves you little surprises here and there.
Love needs lots of cleaning up after.
Sometimes you just want to get love fixed.
Sometimes you want to roll up a piece of newspaper
and swat love on the nose, not so much to cause pain,
just to let love know Don't you ever do that again!
Sometimes love just wants to go for a nice long walk.
Because love loves exercise.
It runs you around the block and leaves you panting.
It pulls you in several different directions at once,
or winds around and around you until you're all wound up and can't move.
But love makes you meet people wherever you go.
People who have nothing in common but love
stop and talk to each other on the street.
Throw things away and love will bring them back,
again, and again, and again.
But most of all, love needs love, lots of it.
And in return, love loves you and never stops.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
In case you're not on Facebook or Flickr...
RJ and I spent a week in an amazing rented cabin up between Cambria and Big Sur the week before last. We went to Hearst Castle, saw some wild Zebra on the Hearst ranch lands, stared out off the deck at an incomprable view, rested, read and stuffed our faces. Of course, a week off means I came back to a serious shit storm at work (I guess the world DOES have a tough time functioning without me...ahem) and it feels like my vacation was just a dream.
On that note...
On that note...
Dreamy.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Water police
We have a busybody neighbor. She's friendly with our out of state landlord, who did warn us this neighbor is a bit of a nosy wench.
We actually had to take a stance with our landlord at one point telling her we would no longer tolerate the neighbor's intrusions...she would come onto our property without permission -- she'd gone into our backyard several times ostensibly because she thought something was wrong with Emmett. Nope, he was just bored and howling. Kind of like what her two dogs do all day. Anyway, she'd moved stuff around back there and basically, I think it was her excuse to spy since she has a key to the house in case of emergencies...thanks to the landlord.
So nosy neighbor complained to our landlord about Emmett - of course, I think it was just to circumvent our complaining about her dogs, but irregarrdddlesss, the end result of which was Aiden.
Aiden's a nut, but I love him most days.
Every night at 11pm, I hear nosy neighbor watering her garden. And because I still resent that she came onto the property several times uninvited, I'm tempted to report her to the water police. Because that's just the kind of vindictive person I'm feeling like right now. And really, what gives her the right to water on days other than Tuesdays and Thursdays like the rest of draught stricken Southern Cali?
And just as I'm having this thought, it's like a little light bulb goes off above my head: I'm terribly middle-aged and suburban... already. That's sad.
We actually had to take a stance with our landlord at one point telling her we would no longer tolerate the neighbor's intrusions...she would come onto our property without permission -- she'd gone into our backyard several times ostensibly because she thought something was wrong with Emmett. Nope, he was just bored and howling. Kind of like what her two dogs do all day. Anyway, she'd moved stuff around back there and basically, I think it was her excuse to spy since she has a key to the house in case of emergencies...thanks to the landlord.
So nosy neighbor complained to our landlord about Emmett - of course, I think it was just to circumvent our complaining about her dogs, but irregarrdddlesss, the end result of which was Aiden.
Aiden's a nut, but I love him most days.
Every night at 11pm, I hear nosy neighbor watering her garden. And because I still resent that she came onto the property several times uninvited, I'm tempted to report her to the water police. Because that's just the kind of vindictive person I'm feeling like right now. And really, what gives her the right to water on days other than Tuesdays and Thursdays like the rest of draught stricken Southern Cali?
And just as I'm having this thought, it's like a little light bulb goes off above my head: I'm terribly middle-aged and suburban... already. That's sad.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
It's not a Delorean, but...
I've toyed with the idea of selling my 11 (!) year old car for a a diesel converted vegetable oil car...but not only am I afraid of taking one of the last steps to fully committing to Silverlake yuppie-hood, used vegetable oil is just gross.
Surfing around for options outside of the Cash for Clunkers program, I found instructions to convert an old Honda Accord so it runs on everyday trash!! Talk about the ultimate green-machine.
Surfing around for options outside of the Cash for Clunkers program, I found instructions to convert an old Honda Accord so it runs on everyday trash!! Talk about the ultimate green-machine.
Wait, why aren't more people doing this? Oh, right because it's incredibly complicated.
And way beyond my skill level.
I still think it's awesome, tho.
Sunday, August 02, 2009
First blanket part
I have a co-worker who has been trying to quit smoking. The same co-worker taught me the basics of knitting this past winter, which led to several mangled attempts at making scarves.
Sadly, just as he was two weeks into his smoking cessation program, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He's now on medical leave, and to attempt in some way to bolster his spirits, let him know we're thinking about him, and thank him for teaching us to knit, several of us are knitting separate square to be crocheted together in a blanket.
Of course, given my actual limited knitting, square is a relative term.
But the thought is there.
Sadly, just as he was two weeks into his smoking cessation program, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He's now on medical leave, and to attempt in some way to bolster his spirits, let him know we're thinking about him, and thank him for teaching us to knit, several of us are knitting separate square to be crocheted together in a blanket.
Of course, given my actual limited knitting, square is a relative term.
But the thought is there.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
The Anti-Climatic Hospital Story
This past Wednesday, there was this terrible cramping in my left forearm. I ignored it...by Thursday morning, I could barely move it. I iced it all day at work, then when I got home...it was swelling and so on. Weird, right?
I have Kaiser insurance - before you can enter their pearly gates of medical assistance, they require you call a nurse who determines your medical need based on symptoms -- i.e. wait a month for a doctor's appointment, or just head to the ER. As I couldn't move my arm without pain, the nurse sent me to the ER.
Well, they are seriously drug happy at the ER. The doctor tried to move my arm -- causing me to yell in pain, and then I burst into tears. I must have been loud, because they stuffed me full of morphine shortly after...ugh.
Never again with morphine...I swear I have never been so sick or nauseous. They thought my arm might be broken, so they wanted to x-ray my arm, despite my insistence that the bone was fine. And to do that they had to straighten it. To straighten it, morphine.
After the x-ray turned up normal (um, yeah...I said it would), they suggested I had gout.
GOUT. WTF?
After hearing that, I couldn't stop saying 'I have fat white man's disease' to RJ. In my morphine haze I kept thinking of Henry VIII. Who was, well, fat, white and had gout.
Absurdly, I was also dictating random morphine Twitters to RJ too...probably NOT the best of ideas.
I think he was trying to tweet more sedate-type updates, but I'm pretty sure following the muscle relaxer they gave me to chase the morphine, I was insistent.
After a line with anti-inflammatory meds in it, they sent me home...telling me that
'yep, you probably just had a deep muscle spasm.'
Oh man. I think I learned several important lessons -- including no morphine, no twittering thru RJ on morphine, and unless there's a bone poking out of my body, no ER.
Sorry if you caught the original update on Facebook. So, yea, I'm fine, and can now nearly completely straighten my arm. Hooray for that.
I have Kaiser insurance - before you can enter their pearly gates of medical assistance, they require you call a nurse who determines your medical need based on symptoms -- i.e. wait a month for a doctor's appointment, or just head to the ER. As I couldn't move my arm without pain, the nurse sent me to the ER.
Well, they are seriously drug happy at the ER. The doctor tried to move my arm -- causing me to yell in pain, and then I burst into tears. I must have been loud, because they stuffed me full of morphine shortly after...ugh.
Never again with morphine...I swear I have never been so sick or nauseous. They thought my arm might be broken, so they wanted to x-ray my arm, despite my insistence that the bone was fine. And to do that they had to straighten it. To straighten it, morphine.
After the x-ray turned up normal (um, yeah...I said it would), they suggested I had gout.
GOUT. WTF?
After hearing that, I couldn't stop saying 'I have fat white man's disease' to RJ. In my morphine haze I kept thinking of Henry VIII. Who was, well, fat, white and had gout.
Absurdly, I was also dictating random morphine Twitters to RJ too...probably NOT the best of ideas.
I think he was trying to tweet more sedate-type updates, but I'm pretty sure following the muscle relaxer they gave me to chase the morphine, I was insistent.
After a line with anti-inflammatory meds in it, they sent me home...telling me that
'yep, you probably just had a deep muscle spasm.'
Oh man. I think I learned several important lessons -- including no morphine, no twittering thru RJ on morphine, and unless there's a bone poking out of my body, no ER.
Sorry if you caught the original update on Facebook. So, yea, I'm fine, and can now nearly completely straighten my arm. Hooray for that.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Kegmobile!
Why yes, this is a keg in a trash can on wheels.
So this is a little bit like 10 years too late for me to get super excited about, but I'm still compelled to post it anyway in honor of my beer drinking youth. And maybe like the one time I tailgated at a sporting event.
I'm also incredibly impressed by this inventor's ingenuity. Nice DIY, dude.
$159 bucks will get you the kit to make this happen. Find out more and order here.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Cirque Berzerk
In the last three years, RJ and I have been to quite a few circuses - there was the Genoa family circus, Barnum and Bailey's, and two Cirque de Soleil shows...the terrible Criss Angel Believe, and some other mediocre production here in Cali at the Colosseum.
Overall, I would say we've been exposed to the full gamut. From a small mom and pop affair, to the extravagance of a Cirque show.
We've not been overly impressed by any.
For our Fourth of July, we wanted to get out and see fireworks, but neither of us wanted to cope with traffic or crowds. As RJ's crazy night/weekend schedule starts tonight, we opted out of bbq's to spend some quality date time together.
While searching around for fireworks, we stumbled on reviews for Cirque Berzerk. Hunh. It looked intriguing, but more importantly, the downtown location would give us the perfect vantage to view the Pasadena Rose Bowl and the Colosseum fireworks.
We weren't expecting too much out of the actual performance. I mean it's a one tent circus, and definitely kind of rinky dink.
The old adage 'appearances are deceiving' applies here. I spent the whole night exclaiming 'Wow' and 'Holy crap' and 'How the fuck do they DO that.'
It was great. A combination of cabaret, modern and classic dance, trapeze, rings and acrobatics. All with a strong goth-y cyberpunk vibe. Truly enjoyable.
In the hospitality area, Vaud and the Villains, a more than 16 piece band played for a couple of hours following the show, a stellar soundtrack to the fireworks going off in every direction!
We decided to cap the night with a cocktail, and headed over to check out Seven Grand, downtown. A modern 'old fashioned' whiskey bar, complete with wood paneling, Billie Holiday on the Jukebox, and ten year Talisker.
As RJ twirled me around the bar to Billie's crooning, much to the amusement of other bar patrons, I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear...what a great holiday.
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