daaaa da daaa da daaa daaaa daaa daa...

So Andy's taking a beginning acoustic guitar class at the not so local community college and they have assigned them this song...an "etude" that I know I know! He does not do the "classical"music scene and so seemed almost astounded when I started "da da-ing" to it, and then beyond the one page he was given and into the next stage of the song...but for the life of me I can not remember what it is called.

Da da dit do dum da da dum da
Da da da daaa da dum de doo....

It is going to bug me to no end until I dig out my CD's and try to figure it out. I think it's Bach or Beethoven...I can hear drums and cannons in my head...But it's usually strings that play it. So very frustrating. Especially as they've used it so often in commercials and movie previews...urgh...oh! Movie previews!

I think I know where I'm navigating to next...much easier than trying to figure out which box my CD's have gone to.

Happy weekend before the explosions!

Days Sneak Up on You If You're Not Careful

How did it get to be Thursday already?

I mean, I've still got last week's paycheck in my bag...my laundry has yet to be put away...the one-box-a-day of unpacking has come to a standstill...I have yet to go grocery shopping for the week!

 

Wasn't I just wondering what I could fake for lunch for Monday?  And now we're almost halfway done with Thursday?

 

It boggles the mind.

 

On the positive side of the spectrum, the weekend is only hours away...well, about 30 hours away, but that's nothin' compared to it being a whole week away, right?

Also, HELLO, I have a whole paycheck in my bag!  I must be doing better if I'm not living paycheck-to-paycheck anymore/just yet/for now.  Come ask me how I feel after I fork over the money for the gum surgery 3 weeks or so from now...or for the crown a month after that???  Eeep.  I will never look at even shoddy dental coverage offers with anything but the respect they deserve.

 

A coworker of mine is also having vast amounts of work done on her teeth.  The comment she made that has stayed with me as I think about the upcoming bills is: I don't know how my parents prioritized all this with FIVE KIDS! 

 

Cuz we are both running into the same nice big realization...we are single with no dependants (not counting the friends I've adopted as family) and yet the idea of spending gobs of money on ourselves is just, eep!  What do you cut to keep making things go?  And if you did have to do it for 5 other people on the same salary?!?  INSANE!

 

Now of course for the reality...our dollars are not buying the same amount that our parents' dollars were just 20 years ago.  That is becoming so painfully obvious with every stop at the gas pump and every quarter gallon of milk I buy. (Which is STILL more $$ than my mom spent on gallons for us.)  The canary in the mine shaft for me was always milk and bread prices.  That little bird has been dead for years now.  I used to be a vegetarian in college cuz I just couldn't afford to buy meat.  Tofu they sold by the ton for pennies...if it came down to that again, I'm not all that sure if I could even afford tofu.

 

There was a blip I heard on NPR about some Senator/Governor/person in politics going on the "Food Stamp Diet" to prove a point or 20.  It used to be that food stamps guaranteed you the minimum daily allowances as placed forth by the government.  So you had that pyramid we all grew up with covered.  (Which, I remember being told, is what a pregnant woman should be eating to ensure the health of her fetus and all that jazz.)  Well, such is not the case anymore, apparently.  To cut back, the gov'ment's been subbing carbs for veggies.  This is appalling.  Why on earth would the government want to keep a section of their people hungry and dumb?  Look, if you aren't eating right, you're not thinking right.  Send a hungry kid to school and they are not going to learn jack, trust an ex-teacher on that one.

 

I think I'm thinking too much.  And Andy thinks I should pay attention to politics and what's going on in the world?  I'd go bonkers.  My blood pressure is happy where it is at this point, thankyouverymuch.

 

Now, what next to tackle on that never-ending to-do list?

Quantity vs Quality

Reader, emailingisaformoflurking*, writes:
"Are you cheating on blogger? Why haven't you been posting?"

It's called, "Just shy of being over my head at work."

Right now, this is not quite a bad thing. I'm enjoying the challenge. I am learning to say, "NO." I am learning to successfully NOT say, "Why don't you go and do it your own damned self." But only rarely find the need to even think it. That's when I just smile that half-smile and nod as I jot your task on my "things to do" list. No, it will not be the next thing I do. I may not even get to it until tomorrow. I am very much still a 7th grader at times. I wouldn't mind doing everything for everyone if it wasn't for the one person in the office that does it all for herself. What this tells me is that either she doesn't have enough work, or (more likely) the others? They could also maybe do it all themselves, but choose, instead, to send it my way.

The other day some of my logic slipped out before I curtailed it, so I'll share it with the world now. Andy boiled it down to my not minding/hating/wanting to kill "stupid" people. They're okay in my book. (Really it's more like "people who make stupid mistakes.") It's the competent ones that are assholes that I have a problem with.

I mean:

• If you're speeding in a residential area cuz you didn't realize the arterial speed had changed from 40 to 25 or something, that's one thing. If you are speeding cuz you can? Screw you.
• Oops, you got on the freeway using the carpool lane cuz you've only lived here a few days? That's fine. You use the lane because you're so special, and besides, you think your penis is big enough to be considered a second passenger? Kill you.
• You cut in front of me at the grocery store because you didn't see that the line split to make room for people to pass by? No problem, bonus if you look all "deer in the headlights" and apologize. However, if you feel like it's my tough luck for not pushing grandma out of the way so I could cross the "passage" aisle and now I'm stuck behind you? Don't be surprised when my grocery cart wheels have savaged your ankles.

Better picture of it all, nes pa?

With that in mind, is it any wonder just how I prioritize stuff at work?

Speaking of which...

Happy Tuesday.

I promise, more than once a week postings from now on. I'm not dead in a ditch. Just buried under paper.

*No, not their real name/persona/email.
Even I am not sooooo mean as to call someone out when they are so shy they email instead of commenting directly on my blog.

Choosing Your Music Carefully

Some advice that I really should remember to follow in the future:

The next time you are on the fine line between depression and just plain exhausted uncertainty, feeling like the world is crumbling all around you, or just not quite right in the head due to life, hormones, the alignment of the planets, etc., DO NOT LISTEN TO PETER GABRIEL.

I don't care if the album is called "UP." This is not short for "up-beat." This is not how you will feel as you sit in traffic wanting to pull your hair out as you wait for the traffic, lights or weave out of an almost accident. You will scream at the top of your lungs, and really, even in Seattle where everyone is busy talking on their cell phones as they drive? They'll be able to tell that you, actually, are not on the phone. They will turn and look at you at the stop light; there will be fear in their eyes. You will scare people. You will scare yourself.

Aaauuummm.

What to listen to instead? I'm not all that sure. There is so much to consider.

Music and memories are very much tied together for me.

For Example, I was telling Andy today, as we drove up to the Alderwood Mall, music blaring on the stereo, that I have the most inappropriate songs tied to guys I've dated. I don't think I've ever really been "into" the same kind of music as the fellows in my life. So when one of them, (who loved Erasure and certain other bands that I was kinda "eh" about) and I happened to "discover" we both really liked Closer by Nine Inch Nails? Yep, it kinda became "our song." (I can't believe I'm admitting that one to the world.)

It's not like it gets any better with age. The X? Well, we were driving around Stanford-town/Redwood City. Possibly to go to Beltramos for some lambic. The Butthole Surfers happened to be playing on the stereo. He hears Pepper for the first time. Right. Our song. "They were all in love with dying and they were doing it Texas," baybeee. I know, I know, how romantical and all.

I will always associate Duran Duran with the X. That kinda sucks. I liked them way before him. Alfred can back me up with that one...we had cassette tapes of those boys long before X really got into them. He was all about the Queensriche, Iron Maiden, Styx, and Rush. On the flip side, I will also associate the Go-Go's with him. Yep, he loved the Go-Go's. I wonder if he's admitted that one to the new "I only listen to angry punk rock music" girlfriend? My absolute favorite memory associated with "Our Lips are Sealed" would be him speaking to Richard over the telephone and asking him if his liking of the Go-Go's (which included dancing and singing along to them) meant he was maybe gay? Richard assured him that no, this was not the case. Then immediately sent him an email with just one word:

FAG!!!!

I love you, Richard.

I can't listen to Tori Amos' "Little Earthquakes" without remembering countless miles between the Renaissance Faire, Lake Arrowhead, and LA in my best friend from high school's little Corolla. As PG above sings, "Life carries on, and on and on, and on..." And it scares me to see just how much time and distance and everything has gone on since those days.

I bring this up as I recently "lost touch" with my best friend from HS. Kyra posted a while back about relationships and that Seinfeld episode (which I never saw) where they discuss "dumping" friends? Yep. That's exactly how it feels, like I've been dumped. And then what? All these memories that are a part of you...and that's all they can be now. All part of the past.

So do you sink into that past and surround yourself with the things that remind you of the good times: They Might Be Giants' Ana Ng? The Bobs' My Shoes Are (on top of the world)? A slew of Ren Faire ditties? ("Johnny Be Fine" to be precise)? Or shake it all off and look to a future with one less person in your life? And maybe listen to too much Peter Gabriel in the process?

Quien sabe. But I think I might have to open my ears up to new music, to maybe create new associations so I can take a break from the past.

Blank

My brain is so full of "stuff for work" that I am totally blank in the creativity department.

 

Isn't that just bizarre how work can do that to people?  Suck their brains of all but that which must happen for work for we are Borg and must work for the collective...or whatnot?

 

Is it really only Tuesday?

 

Random.

 

Okay, I need to take a creativity break...or something.  I'm a little weirded out by how I feel right now.  Mind-numbing isn't the word.  It really is more like a "Workmentor" coming by and sucking all non-work thoughts from my head...like I'll never be able to think about anything non-human resources related again...

 

Andy and I went to the IMAX theater last night.  We live dangerously close to it and had no idea.  Spiderman3 is there until mid July or whatever the exact date is when the next Harry Potter flick shows up...in 3-D!!!  I gotta say though, if you're gonna go out to se a movie, IMAX is the way to go.  Andy thought it was way too loud.  Back when I had full use of my hearing I probably would have felt the same.  Instead I thought it was just right.  That makes me so very sad.

 

Anyhow, if you haven't seen Spidey3...well, I'd wait for video...unless you really just want to see CGI after CGI scene.  Which is a valid reason to go in its own right.  It fell prey to the same thing the "I'm Batman" movies did.  Too many villains and too many lessons to be imparted all at once.  Give me one hero, one villain, one damned climax and following denouement in a shorter movie and I am a happy camper.  So many "you know maybe you should reconsider what you're thinking" scenes could have been cut...but the powers that be don't seem to think that the audience can figure things out for themselves anymore...urgh.  The dumbing down of America really pisses me off sometimes.

 

Okay...enough of this foolishness...a little more HR stuff and then I get to go home.  It's just sad when your afternoon break happens at the end of the day...must learn to monitor my breaks a wee bit better.

It's Official!

I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHERE ANYTHING IS ANYMORE.

Andy and our landlord will do that final "walk through" thing today and the house at the edge of town will go up for sale. Or something. By the way ladies, Andy is doing the last of the cleaning, as I gotta work. He's already there, been there since like 5AM cleaning BATHROOMS and mopping floors. (See Andy, don't say I don't advertise for you, free market economy and all...)

Back at the ranch:
In the same vein as the "you know you're a" redneck/knitter/geek lists, I share with you that which is set up and in use in the apartment:

• The coffee maker.
  
• Andy's computer.

(Obviously the bathrooms as well, but technically, as most of the bathroom stuff is in a box "somewhere," I don't consider that "set up" yet. Don't even ask about the bedrooms, I live in BOX HELL.)

Hmmmm....what does this say about the dwellers of this place? Archaeologists would have a field day if Mt St Helens pulled a Pompeii on us today.

But yes, there is once again connectivity "in da house," or what have you. Now I just have to figure out what box my computer is in...then some day I will set up the kitchen, maybe the living room. It's all about priorities, people. :)

Happy Friday!

(BTW, for those who watch my every move...and noticed my flagrant usage of style in this post...I'm practicing my HTML skillz. I've been in need of such at this latest assignment.)

Chubby "Afrodite"

It's all running together....I can't remember where I took this picture...I want to say Ostia Antica, at their mini museum. But it might have been Naples...Or was it on one of our self-guided museum tours?!? So unless anyone knows different? Let's call it umm, somewhere in Italy.
This was not the only "chubby" Aphrodite (Afrodite in Italiano) that I ran across. But I believe it was the first one I could take a picture of -- many museums have a no-picture no-movie rule.

I think I mentioned this when I posted "on the ground" in Italy, but I shall restate it with some visual today. Skinny was SO NOT IN during the height of the Roman empire. The beauty queens were chubby! I am so down with that.

Pale was also in fashion. Women, well WEALTHY women who could afford such a luxury, would bathe in donkey's milk and the like to try to bleach their skin. I was reminded of one of the "Dracula" stories I found when I was in school. I can't remember which crazy queen it was, but she used to bathe in the blood of virgins or somesuch nastiness to keep her skin young, and pretty, and porcelain-esque.

There's this one beautiful sculpture of Hades and Persephone in the Borghese gallery (no pictures allowed, scroll down a bit here and you can get a fuzzy picture) that depicts the moment where Hades is dragging Persephone with him to the Underworld. Once you are finished being simply in utter awe of the mastery needed to show Hades' strong god-fingers digging into Persephone's supple flesh? And it does look SOFT! You start noticing that Persephone is soft all over! She too has a couple places where maybe she had one pomegranate too many. I LOVE IT!

All of this makes me laugh and laugh as, wasn't it the Italians that recently put out that law that their super models can't be too thin or something? Aside from just being rational, I think it might come from the idea of what beautiful was to their ancestors. And that beauty included a little chub!

Okay, time to pack up the computer. See you all (my three loyal readers :)) sometime next week...or whenever the cable gets installed.

PS: I will be in the middle of moving but wherever I find myself with a spare moment, I will gladly pull out my mom's mom-day-gift and at least knit a few stitches. How did this day sneak up on me?!? Follow the link on my sidebar for more info!

I Was Going to Title This One Yellow

Because that was the color of my car this morning.

I understand that it is still 14 days until it's "officially" summer and all, but people! Or should I say TREES! Stop with the pollen producing already! My head is so ready to explode that I am strongly considering stopping at the "Discount Gun Store" on Lake City Way and seeing if I can help it out from the outside.

The stuff gets EVERYWHERE...and it is STICKY. My lungs hurt so badly right now. And yes, eeeeeuuuuuuwww I can feel it in my lungs! That is just so very wrong in so very many different ways.

I thought nothing could be worse. I really did.
Then I found something that is:

Writing a cover letter.

It is official. I am Cover Letter challenged.

I hateses them with every pollen-clogged-pore in my being. Seeing as I am surrounded, literally, by files that contain ten million applications, with said cover letters, (I did mention I'm temping at an HR department this time around?) you'd think I'd be able to just become instantly inspired to create a valid one of my own, right? RIGHT!? WRONG.

Has everyone but me read The Shipping News? I'm on the first part just as he's getting on the boat to Nova Scotia or wherever. But you know how he was a reporter for that guy Punch, or whoever, and no matter how many times the copy editor dude slashes and burns his stories and tells him to add moxy or whatnot (can you tell the sudafed has started to kick in?) and he nods like he knows what all that advice means and stuff? But really? REALLY? He has no clue?

Right. That would be me and the sea of cover letters.
HATESES them.
But I need one. Not necessarily today, but the job I'm applying for closes on Monday, and I'm taking my computer down today, so scratch that...NECESSARILY today it is. Urgh...HATE.

Okay, break's over, back to the grind...

Moving Sucks

I'm sure I'm doing the very human (as Douglas Adams would have said) thing of stating the obvious.

We get to go clean the bathrooms and kitchen tonight! Woo hoo! I know, exciting.

The hardest bit is the "smoothing out" of unforeseen folds/problems...like the P of the ad. There is parking! Sure! But I don't seem to be able to, without developing an ulcer, actually park my car in the space. It's just too narrow! If I actually achieve this feat, then there is the problem of not being able to OPEN the door so I can get out, seeing as my "neighbor's" car is a mere inches away from mine when properly parked.

Yes, obviously, phone calls are going to be made today.

Not a big surprise here, but I'll be taking a web break possibly as soon as tomorrow. Andy has to start switching utilities and all that FUN stuff. And I really should pack up my computer stuff. I'll see if I don't post my absolute favorite picture of "Afrodite" that I found this morning. Think: chubby. Tee hee.

Downsizing...

So when I first agreed to move up to Seattle, friends in tow, I had absolutely no clue where I wanted to live, save for one itty bitty caveat: NOT DOWNTOWN.

The fact is, up until I officially clear out of here, which is pretty soon now, actually, I was literally one block away from the city line (Seattle/Shoreline). Seriously, in my first year+ here in the Emerald City I have been living as far north as is possible while still being able to keep the "Seattle" in my return address.

Today, this has officially changed.

Andy and I have signed our lives away to an apartment complex down near Gas Works Park! Talk about a 142 block change of venue! The way we were going about looking for a new place to live, though, I honestly thought we'd be on 137th or even 100th! Things were going less than splendid in finding new digs. Finding housing with people can really be trying on a friendship, lemme tell ya.

At one point we thought it was us and that maybe it was time for us to look for 2 different places to live, you know, on our own and stuff.

I found a CUTE basement apartment with a black and white checkered floor that would be both cheap and awesome! Well, as long as you were about my height...which neither Andy nor Tim, nor Lev, James, well, pretty much anyone but the aforementioned girlfriends' really...the ceiling? Kinda low. The highest point was 6'4", according to the ad. According to one of the girls I work with who actually saw the place? Well, that was actually only in one spot in the entire place. I.e. a "not safe for Andy" to visit place as he's kinda on the 6'3.75" side of the vertical spectrum.

Then came June 1st. Did you all know about the mass exodus of people come summer in Seattle? I sure didn't. Well, all of a sudden all of these 2 bedroom/2 bath W/D, NP, NS, P(!) ads were all over! The best part? They were popping up in places where we actually wanted to live...or at least close enough for my NO DOWNTOWN self.

See, I have this awful feeling that if I am not very careful, I will become very much like the old man in "Monster House." I like it quiet. I like my space. I hate kids being loud and obnoxious...be they 3 or 33, I have found myself counting to 10 so as to not say things like, "you kids be quiet!" "Get off my lawn!" "Turn that horrible music off!" Etc. and so forth.

So while the place is just around the way from Fremont and all the fun places Andy likes to go hang out? It is still AT LEAST a 10 minute walk away. The downside? The bus stop? Yep, same 10 minute walk away...if not 15... An upside? I can bike to my latest temp assignment. Down...groceries are kinda far. Up: Gas Works Park! Down: ummm the crowds at Gas Works Park. Up: FIREWORKS at Gas Works Park for 4th of July!!! Down: We're going from a huge 2-story house to an average sized 2-bedroom apartment. Up: umm less to clean?

Obviously there are lots of pluses and minuses. The bottom line? We will have a roof over our heads and be moved out of "Wayne Manor" before the "FOR SALE" sign and all the garbage attached to such things starts up.

Speaking of which, I gotta go start packing now.

Happy Saturday!

Liking the Lull

So what kind of work day works best for you?

 

I'm trying to figure this out right now.

 

Obviously right now I am having a lull.  It's that time just before lunch when things slow to a crawl and people don't really want to start anything new because, well, HELLO, it's almost lunchtime!  15 minutes prior to this, of course, I was racing against time to answer 5 different emails and be in 3 different places at once and was so busy I didn't get my morning break which is why, hi!  I'm taking it just before lunch!  Aaauuuummm.

 

I keep thinking that as crazy as things get around here, anything (ANYTHING) is better than having NOTHING to do and not being "allowed" to go anywhere and/or "do" anything that would seem out of place for the front desk...yep still a bit miffed about playing receptionist for so very long and wasting so much time and energy at a place that was sucking my will to live (ah 20/20 hindsight again), I guess I'm still better off with "crazy busy" than with "twiddle my thumbs and toes" and "look professional" while trying to stay awake.  It must be part of some deep set "Calvinistic" work ethic I keep trying to shake off, or something.

 

Having something to do all day at a constant pace might be nice too, though.  Maybe some day I'll get an assignment that runs in that direction?  Lately I've been called in to umm, would it be called a "pinch hit"?  Basically there is too much to be done and not enough people around to do it with a deadline looming, or people leaving, or a business ending, or, well, you name it.  So I come in and hit the ground running.  I never knew how good I was at that before I started temping.

 

The things you learn.

Bizarre Love Triangle

So my one white strand of hair and I are having issues today.

Well, actually I should just say my entire head of hair and I are having issues today. As I noted to Andy the other morning, for some bizarre reason, my hair has decided to start growing straight instead of it's wavy-going-on-curly usual state of being. I generally just kinda shrug my shoulders and um shoulder on.

My hair and I have never seen eye to eye and it does not surprise me that as soon as I'm fine and dandy with it being as big as it wanted to be (think Rome, think humidity, I shudder to think about just how big and curly my hair got on those last days...) it is now so straight that the only body I have left on the top of my head is coming from that one lone white strand of hair I discovered a ways back.

I'm learning to be okay with the white hair. I mean, well, it's still only the one, that I know of. But really and truly, why does it have to be so obviously there now that the rest of my hair has gone lank?

I am obviously far too vain.

In honor of this vanity I shall share one of my favorite versions of Aphrodite:

This is from the National Museum in Naples. The statue was originally meant to be in the middle/at the edge of a fountain so that Aphrodite/Venus could check her um junk/trunk/boootie out in the reflection!
I LOVE that! Wacky Romans.

"Of All the Things I've Lost...

...I miss my mind the most."

-Mark Twain

Andy tells me that he, in fact, did not eat my "ghetto sock blockers."

I guess I have to take that as truth...but honestly, they must have developed space flight and taken off to lands unknown. I HAD three sets going...(10 wire hangers for 50 cents, if I remember correctly) now they are MIA! Along with all the wire hangers I had not converted yet. Did the ghost of Joan "no wire hangers" Crawford come and clean up my room while I was out of town? (If so, she forgot to dust and vacuum.)

The hangers are not the only thing I was running around looking for this past week. I simply cannot piece together a whole lotta things that I thought I'd "put in a safe place" before I left. I'm thinking of my checkbooks. If they didn't make my skin crawl, I'd love the idea of tracking devices for all your stuff. You know, kinda like being registered at Target or somesuch fancy place and going shelf to shelf scanning all the junk you want? Do the same at home! Then your BladeRunner-esque computer tracking system can tell you exactly what happened to that pen you JUST had in your hand!

I think I know just which brain cells died between my pre and post Italy trip. Who says drugs are the only things to damage your brain? I laugh heartily at them! Stress, travel, and information overload are just as deadly to those scorpion shaped neurons (they really are, look)!

Now, add to that what was supposed to be the dental appointment to deal with Phase 2/finish that little root canal thing I had BEFORE the trip...yep, my brain is puddy. Did I fail to mention this little bit?

Right, so last Tuesday, instead of making money, I spent some at my wonderful dentist's office. (He really is very nice and gentle, and not out to cause me physical pain...mental? Well, you'll see.) I was supposed to get my "bling" put in...the gold crown that I was still trying to figure out how I could afford after spending so much on the root canal itself. Dental insurance is a beautiful thing, I hear. I wouldn't know of such things personally.

Well ladies and gents, the tooth is so gone that there is not enough above the gumline to provide sufficient anchoring space for any crown. Right. Well. What this means is that I get to meet YET ANOTHER SPECIALIST! A gum surgeon. They are going to "lengthen" my #18 molar.

Did I already mention I was given permission by my previous dentist's wife to blame this whole debacle on my X? Have I already relayed to you all that if it hadn't been for him and his running off with his campaign manager and her two kids and making my life extraordinarily unpleasant on the Big Island of Hawai'i that I would have kept my next dental appointment and regular cleaning schedule and maybe, just MAYBE all this would have been caught before it all, literally, EXPLODED in my mouth?

AAAaaauuummm, big exhale, big inhale...

Right.
So, where was I? Yes, the gum specialist tacks on another $1400 to the current "how am I going to pay for this" neuron that is slowly growing and destroying weaker and happier cells in my overcrowded cranium, like where the hell I put those stupid sock blockers, check books, and maybe a secret chocolate stash... Not to mention that whole "oh my god they are going to cut out pieces of me" nightmare that is beginning to really freak me out.

At least my allergies are settling down...before I forget the memory, here's another Italy picture:

I am such a snot...we traveled to the medieval city of Erice to see a medieval castle and have lunch at a park from which, on a clear day, you could actually see Tunisia, Africa. This would be the view MJ and I had from our park bench. See everyone, Africa is right in front of you!

All Fun & Games Until Someone Gets Run Over...

Maybe "bowled over" is a better phrase.
Not quite overwhelmed, yet.
My sleep schedule is now back to PST and I've even started a new temp gig (that I actually kinda like after day 2...we shall see). So what's wrong? My sinuses are playing catch up. I missed out on the first round of pollen around here didn't I? Well, rest assured, it found me. That yellow awful sticky stuff was all over my car...and apparently in the vents. I turned them on yesterday morning for a full face blast and spent the rest of the day snifflie and FEELING my sinuses actually SWELL to unusual sizes.

Lovely pictures I paint, no?

So this morning I feel like how the above juggler from Palermo might when his act goes longer than the light. Italian drivers are not exactly known for their patience. Sicilians? Well, anyone from the island can chirp up if you like, but the autobahn experts have nothing on you, seriously.

Terminal 8

JFK's Terminal 8 is the terminal that time (and the renovators/decorators) forgot.

Seriously, there is money to be made by turning this idea into a TV show or something. I'll have to iron it out with the writing team, but I'm thinking a darker "Wings" with nuances of "It's a Living"/"Alice"/whatever other 70s/80s situational comedies we can throw in--without a laugh track.

The main characters HAVE to be the two obviously overworked, yet wonderfully sweet "counter attendants." I would definitely keep the rude and too-cool-to-talk-to-you stewardess who flashes nasty looks at waiting passengers when they come up to try to ask a question. "I am not a counter attendant!" That would definitely have to be her catch-phrase. The effeminate steward with the suitcase whose wheels light up different colors as it roles? Also a keeper. I could not make this up if I tried. As I never saw him, he must be a "first class" steward. Or all they all called flight attendants now? Whatever. The pilot? I don't know about him. He was a little too apologetic during the flight. HE APOLOGIZED FOR THE TURBULENCE. Not as in, "I'm sorry we had to fly through the turbulence," but, "I'm sorry for the turbulence." Ummm what? Maybe his ego is too big...that's it. So I guess we do need him.

How is it I got to know this terminal so well on Saturday?

Well, after arriving at 2 ish New York time, dealing with customs, and saying goodbye to Mary Jane at the very swank terminal 9...I still had about 2 hours to kill before my flight. As it only took getting lost 4 times before finding the correct terminal, I figured this would go fast.

As soon as I stepped through security, I changed my mind. It was like stepping from clean crisp newly painted outside of a house into the haunted mansion. Old, black gum all over the carpets, lights that need new bulbs, arcade games in the hallway with dark/broken screens, no water fountains or working bathrooms within 7 gates or so (I was gate 53, if you've been there, you know what I mean).

When the flight was announced, the counter attendant was yelling to be heard over the wimpy PA. It couldn't have gotten any worse.

And then it did.

After boarding First, Business, Children, and Groups 1 and 2, they had to empty the plane. Grounded, mechanical problems. We would get the next plane coming in, could we all move to gate 55? Thanks.

At 5:55 PM, my original boarding time, my brain already told me it was 11 PM (Italy time).
We didn't take off until after 8:30 PM...there were 6 hours to go to get to Seattle...my body hated me so very much for insisting it do all this horrible traveling when all it wanted was to be fast asleep. Did I mention the babies and turbulence? 4 babies.

We arrived at 10ish Seattle time...or 7 AM in Rome.

Yesterday was a blur. I remember drinking coffee with Andy...and watching multiple episodes of "Lost" while tending the washer and dryer...but man it was hard to deal. I'm told I ate breakfast...and I remember sharing the last of my Italian dark chocolate with Andy when I should have been hungry for dinner, but wasn't...and not much more.

And now it's Monday...instead of flaking it off or even starting a new assignment with the temp office...I get to jump into finding a new place to live. The landlord let us know he wants to sell (while I was in Italy), so I have a lease termination form to sign and a new place to live to find.

Nothing like jumping into real world problems to shake off the jet lag...

When You're a Boy...

Do you all remember that little-played David Bowie song about how everything is easy when you're a boy?

I don't think he ever lived in Italy.

Sure, boys are prized possessions and mama's love their bambinos and are more than happy to have them at home for the rest of their lives...but if they ever want to actually get out and live their own lives...wow, there are some challenges, especially in the "amore" department.  Girls here are great at playing the boy-girl games.  They seem to be the ones in charge...or so the guys I've spoken with tell me.

Here's the secret to getting things done/making things happen, if you are female and are dealing with a guy: be cute.  I don't mean you have to look like Punky Brewster or anything, more like: smile, giggle, play the girl.  Really.  The guys seem to be trained to respond to that.  They might snap out of it if the interaction goes on too long, but when you are trying to get directions, find a good restaurant, cross the street, buy stamps (or even shoes) it puts the ball in your court.

Girls 'round these parts do not make things easy for the guys, ever.  If they are "interested" in a guy they used subtle hints not understood by this here tactless wonder.  Use your blatant American smiles, winks, and jokes to your advantage.  Girls are trained early on to push the boys' buttons to the limits and then somehow in some secret Italian girl way, not take it too far.  I am unschooled in such teachings.  I very squarely fit into the role of unsubtle American woman.

Yes, there is such a role.  The Sicilian tour guide we had even said he has given up on Italian girls and will wait for an American girl to hit on him.  See, in Italy, it is expected for the guy to put himself out there for all the rejection and/or wine and dine and win the girl.  Apparently, in his Sicilio/Italian opinion, American girls are the ones who are trying to catch the attention of American boys and do most of the work in the relationship.

Don't be offended, that was just one man's opinion.  He has obviously not observed ALL American relationships, but popular movies, TV, and his short observations in the states have made him come to that conclusion.  Let's face it ladies, in this day and age of empowered females, we aren't exactly taught to sit around 'til the boys call us.

And before you all drop all your boyfriends and husbands to go find an Italian boyfriend to buy you chocolates and flowers? Remember this: (as told to me by the Canadian guide who has lived in Italy for 9+ years)
     The "Latin lovers" are in for the chase.  Once he as you, the chase is over, and they get bored very quickly.
A con to every pro...turn, turn, turn.

So, it is Friday, my last night in Rome.  I am not displeased.  Rome is a very big city with more big city problems than I want to deal with.  I avoided getting "accosted" by "this" much; was involved with helping MJ and a busload of us NOT get pick pocketed; observed what a purse snatching looks like in real life; but had loads of fun nonetheless.  I really hope I can come back and revisit some day, there is far too much to see in just 7 days.

Most of you are just waking up...as Andy said not too long ago, I am on the wrong side of the world right now, but will soon be traveling back in time to be nearer you all once again.

Italy's Weight Loss Program

I only have a minute as the Rome City Tour began yesterday and so we're back to being on someone else's schedule.

If last night was a taste of what I am to endure these next five days?  I am so going to be losing all the weight the guys on the last tour made sure we gained.  A "casual strole" for this guide is more like you and my idea of what a "power walk" is.

Hmm, the guide this time is a cutie named Stephanie.  I wonder if the guy/girl theory I am thinking up applies to non-Italian guides who have lived for too long in Italy???  If it does...I really am in for an experience.

My guy/girl theory will be posted later, but for your perusal, some advice on shoe buying:
If you want to buy something out of the norm, say really really wide yet not too long shoes...FIND A GUY to sell them to you.
If you do not heed my advice there will be stares and sneers and really awful tones of "Those are MENS shoes!" and lies "Of course we carry your size!"
If the woman cannot find something IMMEDIATELY, she will say they don't have it and start helping the next customer without even saying good bye.
You must hunt down the girl to ask any questions.
Guys will walk around all the displays with you to at least get an idea of what styles you like and then take as much time as necessary to find something that might fit AND that you might like.
If there is nothing at their store, a guy will suggest somewhere else to go, cuz you know the ladies?  Apparently THEIR store is the only shoe store in all of Italy, or something.


More later.

Blue Suede Shoes

So (and I will be misspelling this, possibly on purpose as it is still kinda early in Italialandia)...the Borghesie Incident.

Our first full day by ourselves in Rome, MJ and I trekked up to the B-Gardens to waste time until our room was ready.  Once there, aside from sitting in the shade hoping for some relief from the sun and the heat...it is rather hot and humid in Rome, especially when you have gotten much too used to Seattle weather (my farmer's tan is doing excellently, thanks).

Across the path from us was this "bicycle" rental place.  As I snoozed MJ was planning...And once she saw the three groups of people come in and rent these "car-bikes" (four wheeled, pedal powered, electric motor helped vehicles) her mind was set that we too should join the masses and ride one.

The teacher in me saw all the problems right off the bat--no seat belts, hand powered brake that only kinda worked, a half-stroke of the peddle shot people forward about 5 feet...hoo baby, what fun! Not.

But it was her dime, so I said I would come along, as a passenger.  I would not be responsible for crashing the thing...I did not say this out loud, but maybe I should have.  Either way I was jinxed and I knew it.

All went well as we zoomed around the park and went places I am 99 % sure we should not have been, but this is Italy, we were no less maniacal drivers than all the people in real cars out on the street!  Crazy!  Then came the phallic symbols.  They are everywhere.  I joked during our tour of Pompeii and again at the National Museum in Naples that "I came to Italy and all I saw was penises!"  They really are everywhere and are "jinx breakers" and good luck charms, I'm told.  Maybe it was me making fun of these things that aided in the bad juju?  Quien sabe.

Anyhow, MJ was maneuvering around one of these things when she cut it a bit too close...and my side of the bike slammed into the 3 foot penis-thing in the path (probably there to keep these bike-cars out, I would think...but everyone else was doing it, so MJ insisted we could go there too...whatever).  All I knew was that all of a sudden my foot REALLY hurt.

Instinctively I'd pulled in my knee...the busted one of course, but there wasn't the time, energy or instinct to pull in my foot, apparently.  We surveyed the damage to the bike and saw that the peddle was mangled...that meant...right.  My foot was already starting to strain against my Keen Mary Jane strap.

Of course the very first thing we (I) did was slam on the peddle (with my other foot) until it looked sorta okay again...it still worked, it's good, right? (so going to hell) And we got the bike going again.  Only half helping we got the bike back and the guy actually did a look over and nothing seemed amiss and MJ got her passport back (cuz you had to leave a "document" with them) and SLOWLY we got ourselves away...(so going to hell).  Limping back all the way to the hotel was an experience I don't feel like repeating any time soon.  We picked up ice and I sat and iced and not iced and iced most of the night.

It's not that bad.  I was already swollen from too much salt and carbs, so a little bruising was not going to kill me...we just had to make sure my foot wasn't, you know, broken...my Mary Janes are not fitting too well...the strap is cutting into my right foot...so instead of a trip to the emergency room....we went shoe shopping.

That has to be another story in itself...(I'm good with these cliff-hanger-type endings eh?)  Suffice to say I am now the proud owner of a pair of real Italian blue suede shoes...ka-pow, I feel so very cool...especially as they look an awful lot like bowling shoes.

When In Rome...

...have a Guinness

So do you all remember those times in high school when you felt the outcast?
Maybe your shoes were out of fashion or your hairstyle too uncool or maybe even your sweater was just the wrong color or somesuch similar nonsense?

Well...

That would describe the feelings the "Single Ladies Club" had about me on the Sicily/Southern Italy tour.  While calling home to make sure Andy had mailed off my mom's Mother's Day card (it's not that I don't trust you, just you know, being my paranoid self, sorry), I mentioned to Andy, and now I mention to the world at large, that I was so very happy to finally be one dinner shy of being done with the high school shenanigans.  I was not invited to any of these ladies' reindeer games.  Neither was MJ for that matter.  We were not cool enough, it would seem.

Or maybe some jealousy?

I was the youngest person on the tour.  No two ways about it.  The fact that I got along famously with both the guide and the assistant did not help matters, especially as the aforementioned SLCs were after them.  (Both males, in their 40s/50s, resembling actors, really.)  Rumors started:  I had two boyfriends, I was in trouble with the law, I had had an affair and that would be why I was traveling with my ex mom-in-law...or something similar...it was all so very strange.  I think there was something about the mafia as well, I was obviously persona non grata.

Funny thing?  Unlike those SLCs, I left high school 15 years ago. 

So I had a blast the last night.  After dinner?  After watching all the ladies throwing themselves at the guides?  Buahahaha!  I was one of the select few that was invited out to the Irish pub, not them.  Okay, I may have left high school, but I am still 12 years old. Naany nanny na!

No, I did not sleep with the tour guides to earn my place at the table, thankyouverymuch.  Though I am quite sure if the tour had gone on a few more days, that would have been the next story on the bus to travel down to me.  SIGH...

Anyhow, I am now in Rome, one day away from joining up with the city tour with MJ.  I would be wandering around like a mad woman, but there was this thing with a rented electric motor bike/car, MJ driving, one of the ten thousand phallic symbols in the Borghesie (sp) gardens and my ankle that I will recount at a later date as there is a line for this computer (free internet at the Hotel Italia!).

Laters!

Positano

So....what day is it?

 

Okay, we are in lovely, overcrowded, tourist trapped Positano.  A beach resort town...or something.  I will try to get down the the beach to verify with a picture some day, but "beach" is not a word I can use to describe the small bit of sand that the non mega-bucked turistas can use to sit on and access the water.

 

The hotel is lovely.  Really.  I have decided to take the day off today to rest and maybe give my swollen feet a break...cuz they are, VERY swollen.  I need to use my overpriced internet time (three Euro for half an hour) to find a quick cure.  I would ask for suggestions but I know that I will not get a chance to check back before we take off again. 

 

Did I mention tours go too fast for me?  Though I did get to see Pompeii.  Wow.

 

Okay...off to find a post card...