Sunday, August 30, 2009

I hope this was worth it

So, remember this from July? You don't have to read the whole post, just go down to the fourth paragraph. Go, because it matters. I'll wait for you.

Okay. So I think I mentioned on the next day's post that it was a fun wedding and we all got hammered and yadda yadda yadda I got home at 4am (no, I did not just "yadda yadda" sex). So here's the story. Because I told Maril and the story made it's way out and now I keep getting mysterious gifts in the same theme. Still trying to figure out where that wine came from.

So I drove Tom with the intention of leaving my car and taking a taxi home. The party lasted quite a while, but in the end there were only a few of us left, and when Tom called the taxi it really (surprisingly) didn't take long for one to show up. We agreed to take this one kid home, a friend of one of Tony's kids, so he was roughly 21 and he lived between Tony's and Tom's. I sat in the front seat (because I always sit in the front seat in cabs) and really didn't pay much mind to the driver.

As we are pulling away, I mentioned to Tom and the kid in the back seat that it was a fun reception but I was kind of bummed because I didn't get to make out with anyone, and I had kind of wanted to, but there wasn't much available talent. Kid-in-the-Backseat says, Hey wait! You could've made out with me! I told him, sorry, but he's like 14 and that's just poor form. He slumped back in the seat and Tom and I continued chatting about whatever while we dropped the kid off and then went on to Tom's. The driver, meanwhile, has not said a word. Until we drop Tom off.

It's roughly 3 miles from Tom's to my casita, and just as we are pulling away, the cabbie says to me, So. You wanted to make out tonight? And I said, Yeah, but I didn't get to, so I'm a little bummed out. He then suggested that I make out with HIM. To which I replied, I can't make out with you, you're the taxi driver. To which HE replied, a little huffily, I might add, What, you won't make out with me because I'm a taxi driver? And I explained, No, not because you're A taxi driver, but because you're THE taxi driver. He didn't understand (we established that he was Armenian) the concept, but proceeded to then use the next 2.7 miles to present to me his argument on all the reasons why, in fact, I SHOULD make out with him. He wasn't a bad looking guy, and I remember throwing in my knowledge of famous Armenians to make him feel better for me not knowing exactly where Armenia is, while he continued trying to convince me how this night should end.

Ultimately, as we pulled into my complex, I thought to myself, You know, what's the point in living life like you're telling a story if you don't actually do anything that's worth telling? So I agreed. I tried to make him feel better by telling him he made a good argument, but really, it all came down to not having much to blog about lately.

Um, the making out part? That was okay. Except he kept trying to do these weird things with his tongue and I kept laughing at it (like, not in an encouraging way) (which I am not so sure is a good thing to do to an Armenian male) (because he got kind of mad) (but not, like, Crazy-Armenian-Cab-Driver-Turns-Violent mad, just mad because some white chick was laughing at him), and finally, after maybe five minutes, I opened the door and said, Okay, that was your tip! He just kind of sat there, and so did I, on the curb, and finally he asked me if I was going inside, and I said yes, as soon as you leave... so he did. There you go.

So really, the stuff that has happened after that is probably the funnier part of the story. Like after I told Maril, every time I got up and walked away from my computer she would sneak on and put a picture of a Broadway Cab as my wallpaper. And how I was talking to a customer up front a few days later and Dana told me she had someone on hold for me that wouldn't hang up, and (acting all serious)(which of course I believed) that it was Broadway Cab and that I left something in one of their taxis and when I finally finished up with the customer there was no call at all, she was just fucking with me. And how like I don't know, three weeks later or something I am sitting in the Beaverton branch and Judy L phones me and goes on and on about how she and her man took a taxi the night before and it came around that the taxi driver knew me but wouldn't tell her how and she wanted to know why, and she was so convincing that I ended up telling HER and then she burst out laughing telling me I was too gullible. But since I told her the story, Sandi in the branch over heard me, and now that branch knows. And then how I was downtown working and an anonymous package came in the courier run and it was that toy yellow cab I showed you on my August 23 post. And then Friday (Friday?) I took a little break and came back upstairs and there, sitting on the credenza, was this bottle of wine. I still have no idea where it came from, and nobody's telling.

So that's it. I hope it was worth it. I would like to go on record by saying that no, I am not, in fact, some kind of tramp, I just feel like a person should do things maybe just a little bit beyond the pale, rather than live a boring, vanilla, nondescript life. And plus I really do a lot for the sake of this blog, so you guys better appreciate it.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Calamity calm

Some days are off days and some are on days and I am learning to treat the off days like they are on days. Meaning the small shit is starting to not affect me.

Like customers who freak out and panic at the last minute and say docs are coming and the buyer/borrower OH MY GOD HAS TO SIGN TODAY and then docs never show up and the customer ultimately blames me for the file not closing on time. Yesterday was the last day to sign refis and the only set of the three that OH MY GOD WILL BE THERE TODAY was one where the broker didn't really care if it closed this month or not. Even then the borrower broke her appointment and then just showed up hours later, expecting me to sign her (I did), like I didn't have anything better to do (I didn't) (but I was supposed to have, I just didn't get the docs we've been waiting on for no lie 3 months). I didn't let it bother me, I just made subliminally cutting remarks to her in the course of the signing that made her confused and me feel better. The old me would have picked up a stapler and hurled across the room before going out to sign the borrower. I will admit I ripped the head off the poor temp receptionist who doesn't understand our industry anyway, but I ended it by saying, Sorry, but I shoot the messenger. That's just what I do.

Or like when it's morning and I am putting on my mascara in the peace of my back bathroom and one of the cats comes out of no where and, in an attempt to be stealthy, tries to, from a running start, jump up on the tiny vanity in there but her paw gets hooked up on the plastic bucket situation that holds all my shit, makeup, hair dryer, various clips and such, and it comes crashing down, bouncing off the toilet and finally landing upside down on the floor, crap scattered everywhere, very dramatic and loud, and the cat, in the middle of all this, falls down as well, but sort of upside down on to the waste basket, and takes off like the devil is on her heels, all this happening in the space of roughly 1.7 seconds while I stand there and watch with a tube of mascara in my hand. Didn't even faze me. I just scooped everything back in to the bucket, replaced it on the back of the toilet and resumed my routine (the kitties, on the other hand, are walking around now like the place is haunted, spooked and skittish, and may not go into that bathroom again for a few days). The old me would have yelled KITTY! and sworn and cursed and slammed shit around for a few more minutes, making a point, and then bitter during the whole drive to work. Nope, not anymore.

Or like when my mom falls down again and fractures her back and I get a call saying she is going to the hospital, and there is a chance that, if they don't admit her, we'll all have to take turns spending the night at her house and figure out how to afford home health care, which isn't saying a lot because despite there being ten of us kids, only four live here, and that means two or three nights a week each, and oh my hell I don't even want to think about that. I just listened to what Shelia had to say and went about my day, thinking normal thoughts, not expounding on it, just dealing. The old me would have sworn incessantly and then hung up and rifled the phone across the room. But nope. Doesn't help a thing. Turns out they did admit her and perhaps that means she will be put in a rehab center so they can get her PT and full time care for a few days/weeks. What do I know about it. Nothing, since you're asking.

So yeah, I am not sure where this new found calmness is coming from or even if it will stick around. Maybe it's the branch I'm in right now. Maybe I'll be back to normal after a few days in the Lincoln Tower branch.

Or maybe I'm finally growing up.

(but probably not)

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Like Me? Pay Me.

The internet is no help.

I feel like I am not stretching my mind capacity (especially with the desk that I am on this week) enough so I try to blog fairly regularly. The problem is nothing terribly exciting is going on and nobody has pissed me off in a long enough lasting fashion so, really, I am sort of blocked up. Creatively speaking. Normally I would just sit here and stare at the blank page before me and try to think of something, but this morning, tapped out, I decided to turn to the internet.

I googled "Blog ideas". Here's the problem. Blogging anymore (like anything else, I guess) is apparently all about making money. Don't get me wrong, I like money. I'd like to have more of it (movie reference? Anybody?). But I don't know if I could commit to the mainstream ideal for this (or any) blog and make it try to generate cash on a regular basis. I'm just not that interesting. Or good. I have Google Ads on this thing but the last time I checked (and I don't even remember HOW to check anymore) I had accumulated roughly $1.32 in revenue. Although that was probably sometime in 2007, I am fairly certain it isn't up much beyond $3.78, and frankly, even if I COULD remember how to log in to my account, it's too depressing to know the balance. Besides, I don't need any gum right now, so cashing out my earnings would be kind of a waste.

I know there are plenty of really really successful (meaning cash-earning) blogs out there, and I salute them. But I also know people who have blogs that started out like mine, a way to tell my life stories from Mexico while I was there to the people back home, who have decided to put a little widget situation on their home pages asking for donations. Um. I don't know. I have kind of an issue with that. I mean it's one thing if you started your TO MAKE MONEY. But kind of another when you are doing this only to fill people in on the haps of your life. Maybe you have a more interesting life than other people do. Maybe a lot more people are tuning in than you ever imagined possible when you started the dang thing. Maybe you are starting to feel incredibly popular. But really, are these all good reasons to ask your readers for donations? I mean, why am I going to pay you? My life won't change if I never read you again. I already contribute to enough charities - you have it a lot better than they do. Trust me.

I don't have anything at all against advertising on the blog (hence the Google Ads), selling advertising space on your popular blog, or any of that. What I DO kind of have an issue with, if you are like me, some chick just writing to fill the time and exercise the brain, is putting a button on your blog saying Give Me Some Money (essentially). For like, no reason. I don't know. I mean, I guess if they are actually generating some income from that, then good for them. But bad for the rest of us because it just illustrates how flipping robotic people are, how we truly are living in a world teeming with sheep that will do anything just because it was suggested to them by a somewhat popular website.

Look, don't get me wrong, if someone wants to hand me a wad of cash just because I am somewhat entertaining every now and again, fantastic. I have like three potential trips to book and not a whole lot of money to do it right now. But to link to your site on all of the social networking sites and in the signature line of your emails and on public forums and as graffiti on an underpass off I-405, and then have something on there that just comes right out and says Pay Me For No Apparent Reason, Aunt Doris, I don't know. It just bothers me.

But that's probably why I don't have any money. I'm too much of a dreamer. Who just can't seem to figure out what to write about today.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

I just can't think of a title.

(I'm not in the right frame of mind to tell the taxi driver story. Sooner or later I will. But I know the story isn't dead yet because on Friday the Orenco branch tried to anonymously send me a present. I say "tried to anonymously" because there was no return label on it, but I'm pretty smart and figured it out. Weirdos.)

So the other day I read on my favorite social networking site that a guy from the class behind me in high school died. He was a fairly well-known kid (and I say that because I am quite certain that over the years PLENTY of people from my class and that class and all the classes around me have died) so it was being passed around from friend to friend. No real details surrounding his death, so it makes you wonder, and makes ME wonder what he has been doing these past 26 years since I have seen him. I remember him mostly because (of course) I made out with him. I was once on this kick of giving hickies (don't ask me why... the literal version of wanting to leave a mark?), and one evening I was at a party and I started to overhear some boys behind me, because they wanted me to, obviously, discussing the actual placement of the hickies they had received. When I turned around I saw that they were three guys I had made out with at various times, and the hickies to which they were referring were in fact from me. It was all in good fun, of course, and we all had a good laugh about it then. This kid that died the other day was one of those boys. So there's my memory. It's sad, being so young and dying. But it happens daily, and this IS the circle of life, I guess.

Beyond that it's been a pretty good weekend so far, lots of stuff done yesterday and I got to meet with that Tracy and finally see her baby. He's 5 1/2 months old. Never let it be said that I don't put things off. Okay, let it be said. I have also been in touch to a great extent with one of my BFFs from high school, Lorie, and it's been great fun chatting. Funny because it is like riding a bike, you never forget how to chat with someone and make each other laugh. We live extremely different lives now but still I feel that same connection.

And while driving around her old 'hood yesterday (it was driving me crazy that I couldn't find her old neighborhood, I knew a lot of people in that 'hood and I just couldn't figure out how to get there anymore and that kind of things bug me but I found it and took a little trip down memory lane) (I'm weird like that) (but, you know, I don't think anybody lives there anymore so it's not like I am some kind of stalker or anything), my sister called me and told me she ran in to an old sorority sister that was actually the stepmother of a guy that I shacked up with for a while once. He was a hopeless drunk and seriously I don't know who I was at that time, what I was looking for, what I was trying to fix in my own life by trying to fix him. Anyway she (the stepmom) told Barbie that he (the ex) was living in an assisted living-type facility here in Portland somewhere, completely incapable of doing anything for himself, in terms of care, like, you know, dress himself (he was doing the landscaping at the facility though so it doesn't sound like he is completely incapacitated) and that one day the cook at the facility took him off the premises and they eloped. So I guess that's the end of THAT fairy tale.

Some things are better left in the past I think. Other things show up on Facebook. Which continues to be fun and entertaining. And sometimes a bit of a time-sucker. But that's okay. My obligations are few and I am my own boss. At least when the kitties are napping.

Happy Sunday to you, unless you are reading this tomorrow, then happy Monday. Or happy four-months-from-now. Or happy all-I-wanted-was-to-look-at-a-picture-of-a-toucan-and-instead-found-this-blog. The Browns won yesterday and so did the Tribe so it's definitely a happy one for me ~

Thursday, August 20, 2009


So I got this new tanning lotion last Saturday, or maybe it was Sunday. Can't remember. It might have been Monday. Anyway, it's a "tingler". Meaning it's supposed to like churn up the oxygen in your skin (?) and ultimately leave you sort of a bright(er) pink that turns into a better tan in a few hours. Not like a bronzer, but apparently all that churning oxygen means the shit that makes a person tan gets kind of a kick in the ass and makes it stand up a little bit straighter afterward. I'm no scientist, hell, I dropped out of Chemistry after two weeks when Mr. Smith threw a ruler at me, so I can't tell you how it really works. But I've tanned three times this week, and I have to say it IS working. I love it, because it makes your skin feel all tingley (get it?) like when you have a sunburn. This is good for the lily white girl hidden underneath this (highly oxygenated) tan girl.

The week has flown by. It's been somewhat enjoyable and not even a little bit stressful. Today had its moments, but nothing compared to last week, and I'm downtown so that's fun. Downtown often means at least one free lunch, and this week has given me two, so the cheapskate in me is pretty happy about that. Plus I've had a pretty decent run of somewhat good hair (except today. Those of you who saw me today, don't judge me by today's hair), and that ALWAYS helps my mood. Tomorrow seems like it will be rather busy as well, you know, GOOD busy, not OVERWHELMING busy, and it's a special occasion to boot (oh relax, don't get all nervous, you) so Chris, Whitney and I are celebrating by going out to that good sushi place on 23rd. Fantastic.

The weekend is going to be enjoyable too (besides one daughterly duty that I must fulfill, but I'm keeping a stiff upper lip about it), in that I am meeting that Tracy for coffee and I might actually book Cancun this week (Cece, are you reading? It might be a good time to act.). So, you know, good, positive shit going on.

I guess because it seems I am always bitching, I should take this opportunity to be grateful for the good things in my life, for the good stories I have lived to tell, and the good friends that I have had for a long time and a short time, to wish a certain someone a happy just-another-day-nothing-to-freak-out-about-but-it's-still-a-fun-occasion day, and to remember that good things are always all around us, sometimes we just have to move crap out of the way to see them.

How's that make YOU feel?

(Because I'm so not going to say it...)

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Running away

I think I have developed some sort of allergy. Yesterday morning, while getting ready for work, I was suddenly stricken with a runny nose. I didn't feel like I had a reason for it, like a cold or anything like that, it just wouldn't stop. I must have blown it ten times before I left the house. And then it was completely fine.

This afternoon at around 3:30, after a completely normal day, I suddenly started sneezing. Not just two-sneezes-and-it's-over, but like, Tom-sneezes (my brother Tom sneezes no lie 17 times in a row after a certain amount of beers and it DRIVES ME CRAZY). I couldn't stop. The left side of my face was the only part affected - runny itchy eye, sniffly nose. It's 9:15pm and I still haven't gotten over it.

I have never been allergic to anything (except the flower of the flamboyan tree, I found out one December while walking through a little park in Valladolid, Yucatan - I got hit in the head with a falling flower and I sneezed and sniffled and teared up for the whole rest of the day. And I was on a date.), so this is really quite odd to me. I don't feel sick at all, not like I have a head cold or anything, I am just all of a sudden stricken with this affliction. And it pisses me off.

Because I don't need to suddenly develope allergies at this age. I know that in theory your body's chemistry alters every seven years or so, and that my siblings have developed allergies themselves over the years, but this kind of shit doesn't happen to me and I think I am going to go the route of "mind over matter". If I ignore it it will just go away. Right?

Anyway, that's this evening's bitch and the whole thing has exhausted me so I am off to bed, to sleep it off, and wake up fresh and clear tomorrow morning. I am sort of surprised it's going to be Wednesday already.

Monday, August 17, 2009


The beauty of my job is that after the horridness of last week, I don't have to go back and deal with the same people and files. I mean, I sort of do, I let the person whose desk I covered know what went on, but I am generally looking forward, to the next desk (you might notice the comma between "forward" and "to" - it's not poor grammar, it is meant to be there. In other words, I am not necessarily looking forward to the next desk, I am just looking forward.).

So this week I am downtown, and I like working downtown except that I can't get on the floor until 7:30am and there are timing issues. This morning I have to anticipate when someone will be in Beaverton first, as I have files to drop off before I head downtown. Which sort of sucks because it means I have to probably get on the Sunset and that means sitting in traffic. And getting a shitty parking space. But oh well.

It was a good weekend, in that I didn't piss it away doing nothing. Scrubbed the bathrooms, vacuumed, cleaned the kitchen. Went to the mall. Met up with friends. I am being positive this week and believe it will be a good one, work-wise. I have good hair and a tan. People like me. I might book my trip this week.

It's going to be a good one.

(I actually was going to write about something else this morning but I decided it might alter my mood, so I think I'll let it wait til later, when I can purge it and then sleep it off. See? Positive foot forward.)

Saturday, August 15, 2009

I would have been happy to throw just ONE punch...

(Friday was a fairly good day, except for the end part, when, if they would have only shown up, I would have gone to blows with a buyer. What part of "It's not happening today" and "I don't have loan documents so don't plan on coming in because there is nothing to sign" do you not get? I'm kind of bitter I didn't get to get into a fight, because I was plenty fired up for it, wild-eyed and verbally (and physically) ready to get down. Oh well.) (But it ended on a happy note, I had a cut and color and my colorist showed me a bunch of neato apps for my iPhone, so I have fantastic hair again and I'll always know where the next speed trap is.)

I woke up with the need to clean the hell out of my bathroom and kitchen. I don't know what got into me, but here I am, bathroom done and kitchen just waiting. I have a lot of crap on my kitchen counter that doesn't need to be there. On those rare occasions that I actually let people in to my house, I get all embarrassed because I think they're looking at it. Maybe they are. Maybe, secretly, they are judging me. Maybe they are changing their opinion of me RIGHT NOW, as I sit here and type this. Hm.

Yesterday the battered Joyce-made-out-with-the-cab-driver story came out of hiding when my landlord/coworker Judy L. played a prank on me. What was I thinking, telling Maril about this? I haven't told you all yet, but it will come, because a) I am not envisioning a ton of stuff to blog about in my near future and b) what's the point of living life like you're telling a story if you don't actually tell the story? I am prepared to let this particular story creep further into my past before I tell you, so give me at least a month. So that would be August 18. I can't make any promises that it will be that day, because once I write something on this blog I promptly forget about it, but it'll come. You guys will probably think I am some kind of tramp, but the important thing is that I know I'm not. You have to really look at things from my perspective.

So between almost beating the smack out of an overly aggressive buyer and having a really good signing with a man who was very well-versed in the Maya philosophies, yesterday wasn't that bad and I move on to Main next week. Well, after I go into work and finish up a couple more files today, that is. Is it me or is work getting harder and harder with every passing week? It could be I am due for a beach vacation. One of these days I will book Cancun (because it's there, looming) and actually have something tangible to look forward to.

So what else is going on? Not a whole lot, clearly. I think the meteor shower did a number on the driving skills of everyone I encountered this past week, so it's probably better for everyone that that's over. Full moon whackiness I can handle; bad driving is a completely different story.

So that's it, I guess. It's Saturday morning and I am feeling pretty accomplished at 8:11am, so that's a plus. Let's see what the day brings me, shall we? If it's anything worth telling, you know you'll see it here.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Not even a memory

So I was cruising Facebook the other night and I saw that a friend of mine, from my college days, who I have been real live friends with pretty much since then, more or less, friended a guy we were all real live friends with back when we were young and naive and fresh-faced. It was at PCC (sure, it's a college, but I have a hard time saying, "Back when I was in college" and referring to PCC as "college"), in like 1983/84, and Jeri and I befriended a group of boys from Lake Oswego. We all had fun and made great memories and then, like everything else, life goes on and people leave Oregon and then one day someone dreams up the idea of social networking and voila, there they are, right in front of you, 20-something years later.

So my real live (and Facebook) friend phones me to tell me that he friended this guy, and I should friend him too. So I sent a request. With a message. You know, like, Hey, long time, what's up? I was happy to see, later in the day, that he accepted the request. So I sent him another message, again, nondescript, you seem well, etc. But I ended it with, I kind of feel like you might not remember me...

And you know what? He didn't! My feelings aren't hurt or anything, but I am kind of, well, surprised. I tried to come up with some stuff that he might remember, where his memory might have been jogged (we never made out or anything, he's gay) (but I don't know if he really wanted to believe it at the time, so all of his ideal-girls were like totally untouchable superbabes and celebrities. So, you know, we all knew. He was like the George Michael of our group). Nothing has worked so far. But isn't it kind of funny, that one person can remember something so vividly, and another not at all? Makes me wonder what I've forgotten, or who, over the years. I don't think anything, really. I mean, I have a pretty good memory. And I've always been one to know the importance of memories, even when you are smack dab in the middle of making them. So it's odd to me. Surprising. Worse yet, sobering. Nobody wants to not be a memory.

I'm not going to talk about the fact that, after yesterday's just overall horrificness, today wasn't that great either. It wasn't as bad, but it wasn't that great either. It started out sunny. Well. It actually started out dark, and with me stumbling to the bathroom only to find my cats torturing a spider and then finally eating it (I guess it's good to know they are doing what I pay them to do), and then walking out to the kitchen after my shower and finding kitty vomit on the kitchen counter, and THEN it was sunny. I told myself I wouldn't let that hinder my pursuit of a good day, and truth be told, I accomplished more in the first hour of work than I did the entire Wednesday before it. But as the day wore on things started getting out of control again, didn't have time to eat anything so I became my surly-groggy-snappy self, wasn't getting the results I wanted, and had to listen to an awful lot of whining. Which I didn't put up with. Which will probably garner complaints. Maybe. Anyway, I second-guess myself at work sometimes and then I think that the person I am covering won't want me on their desk again and then I think, Jesus, I do a lot for a floater, so get over it, but all the arguing in my head doesn't make the day any better, so I finally went home, and am exhausted, and am going to bed way before my bed time.

Because tomorrow, God damn it, is going to be a good day. It just is.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Do your thing, Universe.

It wasn't a full moon so I can't blame it on that. A realtor I spoke with at the end of the day is thinking maybe it's the meteor shower. I want to blame the rain in August but I don't think it was that. But seriously, today just sucked. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. Files didn't close, people were snappy, HUDs were getting rejected all over the place... Totally off my game. And it wasn't just me, or even just my office. I was on the elevator with a guy from the bank downstairs, and even he said his day was just for shit. Whatever it was, it better be over by tomorrow, because I don't know if I can take another day like today.

I figured maybe by blogging about it the universe would make it disintegrate and scatter it to the far corners. Here's hoping.

Monday, August 10, 2009

I don't want to be like July.

What happened to July?

I just got back from tanning - thought I would go at 8:30, after the "How I Met Your Mother" rerun, but it was a stupid episode so I left around 8:15. I noticed it was twilighty, not enough to have to turn on my headlights, but getting there. I started thinking about how much I look forward to the days getting longer when it's winter and spring, and how I barely notice when, after June 20, the days start getting shorter again. By the time I got out of the salon it was dark and I definitely needed my headlights. 8:45. What a bummer.

I think that for the last few years July has just kind of passed quietly without leaving any kind of a mark. Sure, you have the 4th of July, but after that, nothing. Next thing you know, you wake up and it's August. It seems like summer is just June and then the 4th of July and then August, two months and a day. I feel kind of gypped, because for me, winter is like 9 months long with no reprieve. Just cold. Usually wet. But always cold.

So I was just kind of sitting here, remembering where I was last August, and how July 2008 didn't really happen either. I feel sorry for July. July is becoming like one of those people that just plod through life without making any kind of an impact on anyone else. Sure they have one or two days where they're on fire, but once the heat backs down nobody really remembers them. They just sort of fade into obscurity. Like July itself.

I don't want to fade into obscurity. I don't think I would want to be like July.

Sunday, August 09, 2009

Road block

If you find yourself out and about, running errands, and just got out of the supermarket with frozen food in the car, and are wondering why there is so much traffic and why everyone ahead of you is going 25 in a 40 mph zone, and you crane your neck to see what the hell the issue is, don't be surprised if you see this in front of you.
No doubt the person driving it is 185 years old.

Apparently I haven't gotten over it yet.

Saturday, August 08, 2009

Great Mood Saturday and Kitty, quit drinking my coffee

So the Bug Guy called me an hour early on Thursday and asked if I could get home NOW. He's the Bug Guy, so I complied. And of course, when I got there and put the key in the lock, guess what was on the door frame? Yes, a spider. It's a good thing the Bug Guy was there. I think he likes me. We shared cockroach stories (he's a Bug Guy, for Pete's sake, and cockroaches totally skeeve him out. I asked him, like, is it kind of a hindrance to be a Bug Guy and scream like a girl when you see a thousand cockroaches swarm out from behind a refrigerator when you move it? He said yes. He said he has learned to scream INSIDE. Quietly. So no one can hear. Oh, but he's screaming, all right.) and hung out outside by our cars when he was all done until I remembered it was mid-day and I should go back to work. I like the Bug Guy too, but for different reasons. I like him for his big can. Of poison.

So I'm all in a great mood this morning because I had a really (I mean REALLY) great night last night, and I'm sort of basking in the afterglow. It involved a shitload of laughing and laughing is just really good for what ails you. It involved other things too that I will not elaborate on (and trust me they were equally good for what ailed me) so like the whole package was just awesome. That's all I'm going to say about it but if you are reading this and it was you hanging out with me last night, thanks, let's do that again some time soon. My sides still hurt from laughing and you're my favorite person ever.

So I have to do like way more cleaning today (I did finally buy another screw for the new vacuum cleaner, like, it fits the hole but I can't put the nut on the end of it so I have to keep jamming it back in every few minutes, and given how much I hate to vacuum to begin with, it's really just a gigantic pain in the ass. It's just so typical of me: hate to vacuum, so why not a) get a couple of really furry cats and b) have vacuum cleaner issues just lining up and waiting for me at the Target), and I want to hit Nordstrom, and my facial hair is flipping OUT OF CONTROL, and I am going to need to clean out the fridge and then get some food to put in it, and take Tom to run some errands, and probably nap, and threaten to go out to Scappoose to see the bb and her family, and then that's kind of it for today. Except I've been up since 6:10 and all I have managed to do so far is shower.

So now it's like cold enough for me to be back in a sweatshirt instead of just a tshirt. It's total extremes these days. Right now seriously I am guessing it's in the 50s. The good news is I can tan daily again, get myself back to my fighting color, but the bad news is my favorite super-fantastic bed at the salon is broken. Life is just a series of goods and bads, isn't it?

So that's it. Just writing for the sake of it. And there's you, just reading for the sake of it. I'm not giving you any shit about it, or anything, so, you know, keep doing that.

Thursday, August 06, 2009

Idle generator.

I don't have much to report right now - just because my MO is to live life like you're telling a story doesn't mean that I am constantly generating them. So basically here's what's been up.

- I've been in Hillsboro all week, which is fine, because it's not a bad drive and I have a key and can get in no matter what time I leave the house. So on Monday and Wednesday we had to leave the parking lot (here at home) by 7am and not go back in it until 8pm due to some maintenance situation (paving etc). Which is fine, leaving by 7am is nothing. It's the coming back at 8pm that was kind of irritating. Monday night I spent at the hospital with that Marshy and the new bb, so it was no real issue, but last night I stopped a couple of places and then really didn't have much of a choice but to go home well before 8pm. I had to park on the street outside of the complex, and though I got a good spot, I didn't like having to do it. My car is like the number 1 car to steal and I don't want to tempt anyone out there. Plus my karma works in such a way that if I THINK something bad is going to happen, it sort of does, so I didn't want to take any chances. At 8pm the lot was still roped off. I finally moved the car at 10pm, when I heard some other neighbors rebelling and ripping the tape off the entrance and just basically saying fuck it, I'm parking in the lot I pay for. So I joined them. Anyway, that's all done now.

- The girl whose desk I cover in Beaverton that I always bitch and moan about actually quit the other day, right after I finished up covering her desk. I actually told her boss last Thursday that it wasn't as bad as I expected it to be (until Thursday evening and well in to Friday, when it exploded and we had some situations, all that closed, I might add, thanks to a little bit of me and a whole lot of Sandi, the assistant who helped me out). So why did the chick that quit throw me under the bus to Tricia the Lender Rep? She alleged that I didn't do anything all week. Yeah, okay. Because I LIKE doing nothing. I LIKE a nice, long, boring, drawn out day. And she had so many flipping short sales the only thing you CAN do on her desk is work up estimated HUDs. Bitch. I kill myself on that desk Thursday night and Friday and that's the thanks I get? She's no better than the buyer's agent on the file that we pulled out of our asses and got closed when nobody thought it could happen (when I told her it closed she said "wow." And I mean that to be in lower case).

- So I have to have the bug guy back again, he's coming today at 1:30, which means, since I am in Hillsboro, I have to beat cheeks back here mid-day from Hillsboro and let him in, calm the kitties, and have him blast the living hell out of my dishwasher. I don't ask for much. But when my landlord has to pay THAT MUCH MONEY to de-bug a place, I expect death. Not life. Not ants crawling around my kitchen counters and playing in the dishwasher. Irritated? Yes. Because I would rather go tan at lunch or do ANYTHING ELSE besides coming home and doing this all over again.

- By the way, while we're on the subject, every time someone asks me how the ant situation is, and I answer, it's great! No ants at all! I end up going home and finding... ants. So could you do me a favor and don't ask me? Because that's the kind of karma I have. Which is why I moved my car at 10pm last night back in to the lot.

- The weather has cooled considerably. I actually slept with the comforter on last night. Is this good? I'm not sure. I like 80s to mid 90s. So really there might not be any pleasing me.

- So far I have attempted to friend two people on FaceBook at the suggestion of a certain other friend and have been completely blown off, so, please, Certain Other Friend, listen to me when I tell you they aren't going to friend me. I'm fairly fragile. I don't need that kind of rejection in my life. And for some reason I keep doing what you tell me to do.

- In an effort to live within some kind of a budget, I am trying to limit my Starbucks/Dutch Bros mornings to once a week. We'll see how long this lasts. Yesterday I practically dosed off mid-day, and though I am sure it had nothing to do with the lack of coffee, I still blame it on that. I'm a creature of habit and I don't like to be told I can't have something I want, even if it's me doing the telling.

So that's it, I think. Pretty NOT story-generating, huh?

Monday, August 03, 2009

Welcome to the world, baby girl

That Marshy had her baby today ~

Say hello to Sydney H.

(she's smiling because I just said something funny)

Isn't she pretty?

Congratulations, Marsha and Stan!


Ahhh the possibilities of Saturday...

I ran a couple of errands Saturday morning, but really didn't accomplish much. The beauty of Saturday is that if you miss the entrance to one Home Depot and then completely bypass the other Home Depot, where you need to see if you can buy a longer screw for that stupid new vacuum cleaner that came with too short a screw, and it's been sitting in your living room for two weeks now, not completely assembled due to the stupid too-short screw, you can always go on Sunday. Maybe get an earlier start than everyone else, AND you can go to the mall like you had planned Saturday but by the time you had gotten out, the crowds were too much and you just weren't in to it. Sunday. A whole additional day to do stuff and be productive.

Or, you know, not.

Saturday night Jeri and I planned to meet for a drink or two at the Lake House in Lake Oswego. Seems harmless enough, right? Jeri doesn't drink that much, and me, I'm in a sort of semi-recovery situation, brought on by the desire to actually have productive weekends. So yeah, who would have thought that the Lake House would have Mint Juleps on the menu? God knows I love my bourbon. It was warm and breezy and just one of those neato evenings in the summer, on the water, and people were paying WAY too much attention to us. That's kind of our gig, Jeri's and mine. I think our friendship has always been based on performing... anyway, we tend to be fueled by an audience, and we pretty much got one. Truth be told, we left after a reasonable period of time, both only three drinks in (but she has a two-drink limit apparently so she had me drive the convertible Mercedes back to her house. That was very fun.), and I can honestly say that the GOOD news is all the damage was done in a safe environment with no cause for anyone to drive. Nobody gets hurt. In theory.

We had a great time. Jeri has a very well-stocked bar, I might add. Somehow we grew YOUNGER as the night progressed. It was fun, and I like fun, and I think sometimes you just have to stop being an adult for a while and be a teenager with your best-friend-from-high-school and hope like hell that it doesn't come back to haunt you.

Consequently, I woke up on the sofa and went home around 6:30am. From her sofa to my sofa, where I spent the entire day. Still processing all that had been consumed the night before. Sleeping most of the time. Downing water like crazy and hoping I could keep it down. Not showering. THAT part of drunken mayhem I do not like. But it was a good reminder of why I am generally more in control..

Good weekend, though limited. And I always enjoy spending time with that Jeri. I think I am somewhat grateful, though, that those times are not a weekly occurrence, because frankly I don't think my body could survive it.

Saturday, August 01, 2009

Fear of flying?

I like Friday nights at home almost more than I like Saturday mornings, and I love Saturday mornings. From Friday night's perspective, Saturday lays ahead with so much potential and possibility. There are a thousand things I can do on a Saturday, and somehow Friday night makes them all seem so enticing.

I had a nice long conversation with my friend Di in NYC last night. We talked about a lot of things, but there were two major subjects of the conversation - the first one, well, I think I need to think for a while before I write anything about it, and the other, a possible opportunity for her and her husband to move to another city, in a different region than where she is from and where she has been now for some years. My initial reaction to that was GO! I'm a mover. I encourage anyone to do it if they have the chance.

Which got me thinking about that. I wonder if I could do it again. I had asked her if she had immediately jumped on the 'net to see about housing and neighborhoods and employment and weather, because that's what I would have done (she hadn't, yet, but then again, she isn't Grass-Is-Always-Greener Girl like me so it probably didn't even occur to her). So I did.

I like to imagine myself there, already, see what kind of life I would be living, what my home would look like, the route I might take to work. The people I might meet, the restaurants and bars we would go to, the places we would shop. So much opportunity for the new and different!

But I wonder, though, if I could really truly do it? I mean, now, at my advanced age (I'm kind of kidding). Sure I moved around a lot in my twenties and early thirties, and then there was that move to Mexico when I was 39 and then the subsequent one when I was 41, but I wonder if NOW, at 43, I could pack up the house and move, across the country or across the state, even across the ocean... Has my life become too routined and comfortable? Does that mean I'm growing up?

I think if given the right opportunity, the right circumstances, I could probably do it. Because I think that every time in my life that I made a big change like that I was in a mindset that my life was not moving forward. I think for some reason I was born with the idea that if you are not moving, you are standing still, and if you are standing still, you are not living, and we all know what the opposite of "not living" is. I think that idea is probably the reason I am the person I am (you know, spinster with two cats) (by the way, that isn't REALLY how I describe myself.). The question would be, however, what is the right opportunity and circumstance?

I think, since I've thought about it, yeah, I could totally do it. I think the adventure of it would be enough to calm any worry of change. Though for now I am fine being where I am, my feet aren't "itchy" yet, but there's no telling what the future will bring. And I'm not ruling anything out.