Thursday, September 24, 2009

When hot coffee is welcome

Dave and I drink coffee every morning. We make 12 cups from fresh-roasted Sumatra beans every day (sometimes twice a day on weekends) and we drink it as quickly as possible.

But, in the summer, that scalding cup of coffee makes sweat bead up on my forehead. I drink it anyway.

But something remarkable came with all of this rain we've had lately. While we were doggy paddling to stay afloat here in North Texas, Mother Nature granted us a meteorological reprieve with stunning results: It was 72F in the house last night and all we did was leave a couple of windows open.

This morning, the cool temperatures are sticking to my skin, making the first cup of hot coffee seem so teriffically indulgent.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Karma's balancing act

I find it easy to relate to Buddhist principles. After all, the teachings aren't all that different from Christian principles, the most obvious dichotomy is that Buddhism puts the burden on the individual, while Christianity often puts the burden on dogma or the Messiah.

But the thing about Buddhist and Hindu philosophies that many people understand is Karma, or the idea that good or bad acts will be returned to you, respectively.

I totally believe in Karma, but I am having a hard time figuring out where my Karma is balancing right now.

I may seem like a total misanthrope, but there are a lot of good things happening in my life right now:

-My niece just learned how to walk

-I am almost finished with my first shawl

-I have plenty to eat (maybe too much, in fact)

-Dave found the perfect bottle of red wine (Twisted Old Vine Zinfandel)

-I quit biting my nails

-I had my first of two major dentist appointments, so I'm halfway through remodeling my mouth

-I'm feeling more connected to my yoga practice

-I have decided to get a hearing aid

-I'm about to go on a trip for my THIRD ANNIVERSARY! (Can you freaking believe that I've been married for THREE YEARS already? I CAN'T!)

-We've been on the receiving end of a lot of rain, which means that cooler temps have come with it, and, thusly, I wore a sweater yesterday

-I have a great husband, a wonderful family and some kickass friends.

So, all of these things are good things. These are things that, by no small measure, make me happy to be alive. If you were to read this list without any context, you would think that Karma is paying me back for good deeds. I would think that, too, except:

-I am about to reach the 6 month mark of consecutive unemployment

-I have very few job prospects

-I miss my sisters, sister-in-law, brothers and brothers-in-law

-I miss my mom and dad

-I am a big steaming pile of lazy and depressed

Although I feel that the second list, which is really short, is outweighed by the first, I just can't shake the horrible feeling that hangs out in the back alley of Club Jobless: Lack of worth.

It's a good thing that I have a husband that really tries to support me. I know it's hard for him, because feelig this way for what has become half of a year can't be easy for a chronic optimist.

In any case, I hope that I get more hits in the win column soon.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

When the time is right

If there is one thing that is true about life, it is that you cannot rush it. God knows I've tried. God knows, too, that I've failed. Everything happens for a reason, and good things will come in time.

Which brings me to my most current realization: Every job that I apply/interview/audition for will not be the right fit. Only one of them will.

I just have to make sure that the right job and I find each other.

I also may need to work on toning down my language. I just noticed how many F-bombs I dropped in the last post. Good thing my mom doesn't read this blog. Not that she would be offended, but she would definitely say, "You're better than that," or "Try harder."

And she's right.

This situation I'm in reminds me of a visit I got from my mother when I was in my second semester at A&M.

It had been a really rough semester so far, and I was flat broke after buying books and replacing some boots that got screwed up in a particularly heinous rainstorm. I also lost my graphing calculator, and didn't have the dough to replace it. So my mom drove up to College Station to spend some time with me and to help with taking care of my situation. She took me to lunch to cheer me up, too.

My mother's visit had been just the intercession I needed to pull myself out of my funk. She didn't know it, but I had been seeing a therapist and was treating some pretty severe depression after I lost my only uncle the previous October.

We had so much fun hanging out with one another, and my mom did something she doesn't do very often, which is surprise me with something she knows that I want, but don't need.

I had coveted a little plush Reveille VII, and my mom presented it to me that day just to cheer me up. It was like there was a light at the end of the tunnel after that. I knew that everything was going to be OK because I had people in my life like my mom.

It was time for my mom to make the trip back to the Houston area, and I gave her a kiss and a hug before I exited the car. As I was hoisting myself from her sedan, the littlest bit of my first tattoo peeked up from my pantsline.

My mother was furious. She said "Dammit, [Miss Dallas]! I thought you knew better!"

Even though the tattoo itself was a something I had done to have a permanent reminder of what my mom means to me, I felt ashamed. I felt like I let her down. I felt like all of my shortcomings were immediately transparent and that everyone could see through me.

My mom called me after she returned home and we both calmed down. Now, she still didn't understand the tatt, but she still accepted me. She let me know that it didn't matter what changed on the outside, but as long as I'm the same person on the inside, as long as I never gave up on myself, I would be OK.

I am hoping that this same attitude applies right now. I'm going through a difficult time, yes, but I've got people that I love and who love me back, and as long as I don't give up, things will work out for the better, when the time is right.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Working hard:Hardly Working, why my MIL puts me to shame and all of the ridiculous things that you see on 1980s exercise tapes.

First things first: I am back at work this week, but like the perennially resurfacing McRib sanwich, it's for a limited time only. I'm filling in, basically doing my Old Job back at The Newspaper. Geez I miss those people.

Now, don't anybody get your hopes up, but I am also working on getting a New Job. Hopefully I find one of those soon, because GOD KNOWS I AM SO FUCKING TIRED OF BEING UNEMPLOYED.

Seriously. I have become the laziest, most resentful, angry and onery human beings to excoriate a slow driver since Rush Limbaugh. Although, it was pointed out to me by some far-right-wing dillweed that he recently lost something like 80 pounds, so, good for him. Maybe he can shed a few more and, you know, maybe be less of a douchebag. THAT would be an improvement.

So, since I'm unemployed still (NOT FOR LONG, HOPEFULLY. Keep your fingers, toes and every thing else you can twist into an uncomfortable position crossed until I say otherwise), I keep comparing myself to other people. People with jobs, no less. I would say something cliche like "The grass is always greener," but the person I compared myself to the other day was my mother in law. Yeah. I don't want her job.

You see, she's about as close to a fucking saint as you can get and not have to bother with all that Catholicism crap. She is a special needs teacher that works with the kids that the education system considers "unteachable." The kids with no family. Kids with learning disorders. Kids with bad attitudes and/or dyslexia. Most of these kids are black. Several of these kids think that my mother in law is racist.


She spends ALL DAY, EVERY FUCKING DAY, trying to give these kids what no one else wants to give them, which is an education, and they have the nerve to call her racist because she doesn't let their copious bullshit get in the way of their own education? RI-FUCKING-DICULOUS. You couldn't pay me enough to do what she does, and knowing that the school district pays her less than a prostitute with two teeth and a heart of gold makes the woman next in line for cannonizing in my book. Jeebus.

And, now for a Callanetics update:

My masochist friend and I just completed our fourth session. My ass is still a pear, my abs are sore and I'm loving the hell out of eating toast and jam after working out.

This also means that I am probably not going to look good in a swimsuit, like, ever.

MMF (My masochist friend) took some pretty crude video of one of our last sessions, and I am loathe to post it. Mostly because I look really masculine in all of the videos, and I prefer to believe that I am not as butch as I may look on camera.

Also, I am a fat ass and I tend to bitch a lot while working out. There are more than a few FUCK YOUs shared with the TV during the course of the Callanetics video, so the video is NSFW.

Also, the more I watch the tape, the less I like the before/after shots, which are DISGUSTING. MMF loves them. I always fast forward when she's not paying attention.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Callanetics: Day 2

Dear Callan Pinckney,

I just wanted to say a few words to let you know how I'm doing with your workout tape.

If you're dead, that's too bad. I hope I'm not disturbing your long rot in hell with this note. If you're not dead, you're probably busy seducing young boys in scrunch socks and matching outfits back to your lair to probe your perfect peach. In any case, we need to have words about your "health regimen," which can also be considered a "fact extraction technique." (I hear that's what Homeland Security is calling torture these days.)

After doing two days of Callanetics, I need to tell you something: You're a total fucking bitch. I would call you a sadist, but you do the "gentle movements" too, so I guess that makes you a masochist and me stupid. Also, I cannot stand your voice (or your face, or your really ridiculous leotard and wacked out hair).

And another thing: how did shots like this one make it into the final video:

Do we need to see that much vagina being suffocated by hideous shades of spandex? No, we do not.

Also, WTF?


And another crotch shot?

iphone pictures 054

You really should've run a background check on that camera man.

Anyway, my ass is sore and I hate you.

-Miss Dallas

P.S. I wasn't joking about the "peach" thing.

iphone pictures 072

Wednesday, September 09, 2009


I'm sure that lots of folks thought I was dumb or silly for starting my Christmas knitting in August. These people are either in denial or non-knitters (sometimes both).

In any case, I started my first pair of Christmas socks a couple of weeks ago. Good thing, because now that I'm transitioning to the heel, I found that while I was drinking beer and knitting among friends on Saturday, I totally effing effed this sock up. Stitch counts on this sock are completely crazy pants. All over the place. Nuts.

So, I'm glad that I started early because, in most cases, a mistake of this proportion would mean a store-bought gift for the recipient so that I might salvage a few extra grains of sanity during the holiday season.

"The perfect peach"

It's amazing what you'll agree to after several beers. I've agreed to write a huge, in-depth magazine article about a subject that is so pervasive and difficult to fathom that no one wanted to talk about it. More recently I agreed to do a daily regimen of Callanetics with an also-tipsy neighbor.

If you follow the link above, you'll see videos of young, blonde, attractive women in modest exercise garb. That's not footage from the "Beginning Callanetics" VHS (!) that my friend procured at a thrift store. There is a lot of gratuitous lingering around the pubic areas on camera. The guy who filmed this was likely a lecherous weirdo.

Get a quick sample of the video:

In any case, there is a loyal and dedicated following of this crazy lady and her torturous regimen. So, my friend and I proposed an experiment: We'll do Callanetics every day for 14 days, mostly to see if this crazy bitch is right, and that after doing Callanetics I can transform my ass into "the perfect peach."

Friday, September 04, 2009


Just a quick reminder, Dallas yogis and yoginis! This Monday, Labor Day, is the National Free Day of Yoga. That's right: FREE YOGA.

To take advantage of the free yoga and meet new and interesting people and teachers, go to the Dallas FDOY site and take a look at the schedule.

Want to meet your dear author and indulge in some free yoga? I knew you did!

I'm probably going to go to three or four classes on Monday:

9 a.m. Tree Yoga in Highland Park:

1 p.m. Dirt Cheap Yoga at the Trinity Audobon Center: and

6 p.m. Hatha flow class at Dragon Fire Yoga:

See you there!

Getting to know your adopted hometown

Dallas and I haven't always gotten along. Sometimes I hate this city. I usually feel this way after a municipal election or some kind of terrible political news. In any case, I could have put more effort in to finding new things to love about Dallas. That's where a few really neat Web sites come in, like the very spot that introduced me to Lee Harvey's:

Another site that helps me find new ways to love Dallas:

There are other ways to find out more about your communities, like interest groups and meetups. I guess I haven't put too much effort into exploring my adopted hometown. I'll get to work on that.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

Little things, big joy

I've officially kicked off my 3rd annual Christmas Knitting Binge. The list is finalized, and if you didn't make it on there this year, you should try to bribe me extra next year if you want something beautiful, luxurious and handmade. Note: I like chocolate and jewelry.

This year, I actually feel like a real Knitter. Get that? A "capital K" knitter, as the Yarn Harlot would have it. I am actually making one wee gift from my own handspun yarn this year. Very exciting stuff. I have also caught the shawl bug. I have plans to make *cough*three*cough* for either myself or gifts.

Another thing that makes me feel like a knitter: I came home from my LYS (Shabby Sheep in the hizzouse!) with a few new treasures and some circular needles to more easily crank out the shawl madness. I really had a hard time narrowing it down, but I came home with a skein of Malabrigo sock, a skein of Misti Alpaca Baby Alpaca Chunky and a skein of Classic Elite Silky Alpaca Lace. Not a lot of yarn, but all of it is pure luxury, and is, therefore, not cheap. After hearing how much I paid for yarn, my muggle husband said, "OK, no more yarn shopping until after our anniversary." And a little lightbulb went off. This was the very first time anyone has attempted to rein in my yarn budget. I am finally a "capital k" Knitter.

You may also notice I'm starting my 3rd annual Christmas Knitting Binge much earlier this year. And they say I can't learn... You may remember what happened last year.

No more knitting marathons (only to then rip out an entire sock and half of my hair) for me. No sireee. I like my sanity intact, thankyouverymuch.

But, if I can help it, as many loved ones as possible will be keeping warm in handknits this winter. All two weeks of it.