Flattery gets you everywhere

Yoga class last night was awesome. I had been racing to the gym after getting off of work and I got stuck behind an awful fender-bender on Mockingbird Ln., and thusly I missed the 6 p.m. spinning class. I always miss that class. I got to the gym, dejected of course, and suited up to get on an exercise bike. I figured that since I wasn't going to be training intervals in a group, I'll train in intervals by myself. Buckets of sweat and 45 minutes later, I was stretching it all out getting ready for my glorious Hatha yoga class.

Last night, we changed things up a bit, and instead of having all our mats horizontal throughout the room, we rotated them to where we were all aligned vertically. What a difference! It kind of made me feel like I was in class for the first time. We did a lot of complicated hip openers that made some of our newer yogis and yoginis a little uncomfortable. One of these is Pigeon pose. We did a pigeon series, first with just our hands grasping the ball of our foot and our knee, opening our ches and extending our back leg to open the hips. Later, we bent our back knee and pulled up our foot towards our torso, to look like this:



The full pose, which I cannot do yet, looks like this:



I am so self conscious about this pose, so much so that I am usually reluctant to do practice it in my asana routines, although it is a great all-over stretch. But, I think I'll be doing it more, especially since last night, one of our class regulars "Dangerous Debbie," said that my Pigeon pose was looking exquisite, graceful even.

I may not be able to post again until Monday or Sunday. I'll be in Conroe for the weekend for my sister Jessica's bridal shower, and hopefully I won't be a dolt and I'll take lots of piccies!

Guilty, as charged

My old dear friend Jack used to help me work through what has become such a problem for me: guilt. Most of my behavior, sometimes perceived as altruism, is motivated by guilt. I stay late at work because I feel too guilty to leave people with work to do. I get to work early so I can help pick up other duties to help our department run seamlessly (or at least attempt to run seamlessly). I went to a cardio bootcamp class at the gym for three months because I was guilted into it, I just couldn't tell the instructor that his class just wasn't for me.

Guilt is really starting to keep me from doing all the things that I love and want to do. I usually don't get out of work until 5:30, but there are classes at 6 p.m. that I really want to attend, most notably a spin class. But I stay late to meet other peoples deadlines, and therefore I miss the class.

Today, I'm going to change all that. I'm leaving at least 15 minutes early to go to that class. No one better stand in my way, and I'll be damned if I'll feel guilty about doing something for myself. Finally.

I hope that Jack would be proud, whatever the heck he's doing these days...

Shave and a haircut

There was so much going on this weekend that I didn't feel guilty about not going to the gym to get gross and sweaty. Friday night, Dave and I had a comforting dinner and watched Jesus Camp and then I curled up in bed and went to sleep, which was awesome. It's nice to be married, and to be so comfortable that we can stay home, watch a movie and I can go to sleep because he knows I love him, and I do, so very much.

For Valentines day, I wasn't expecting anything, and he even told me that he's not so much into it, but when I came home from work, he had a little sack full of goodies for me; a canvas bag that will be perfect for toting around Key West in May, Some herb seeds for the herb garden I've been wanting to plant, glue sticks for the recipe stash I'm working on, and a baseball on which his scribbled "the greatest doubleplay partner a man could ask for -- I love you." It now sits next to my monitor at work so that I can glance at it and know that I have something very, very special at home.

Saturday, I got up early and met a couple of very great friends at the gym for a Saturday morning Hatha Yoga class. They both really enjoyed themselves, and I'm so glad. It's always fantastic to go to a great Yoga class with dear friends, although the room is small and the class is popular. We went to brunch afterwards at The Garden Cafe and we all ordered omelettes. We drank coffee and talked culture, work and movies until it was time to walk back to our house.

After they left I got to work turning the soil in the box that will become my herb garden. I'm going to buy some organic humus and peat for my garden, to lighten it up and create perfect conditions to yield tons of basil, dill, cilantro, sage, oregano and mint!

Saturday evening, after I made a wonderful pot of New England clam chowder, we went out for drinks with a few of our friends and had a wonderful time. We went home, gorged on yogurt and granola, and again, snuggled up in bed. Awesome.

Sunday was relaxing, we played in the dirt in the back yard, played catch in the back yard, and then we had several friends over for dinner (Cajun style rice with veggies and herb cornbread) and we made lemon poppyseed scones, which were awesome!

My sister cut my hair, which is really cute, too.



Anyway, gotta get back to the grind!

Out from both ends

I came home yesterday evening with a sore and upset stomach, therefore, no yoga for me. I cooked a little dinner, green bell peppers stuffed with rice pilaf, seared marinated tofu and steamed soy broccoli. It was very good the first time I tasted it, less so later. I woke up in the middle of the night heaving dinner up, went back to bed only to wake up again for round two.

This morning I tried my damndest to get out of bed and go to work, only to get there and have my boss send me home. So, here I am, at home, on a Thursday, arguably the busiest day in my office as we prepare for the weekend. Thank goodness I was ahead before I left yesterday.

This isn't all bad, I suppose. I feel guilty for not being at work today, but at least I now have time to cozy up next to the furnace and work on my recipe stash, do a little laundry and try not to literally spill my guts everywhere.

Keep your fingers crossed, folks, that I can go into the office tomorrow.

Like water spilled on the nightstand...

... these are the mornings in which I cannot force myself to hit the snooze bar properly. We woke up 10 minutes late, which left me 10 minutes late to the train station, which left me parking in the lot most distant from the platform, which made me walk in the freezing cold temperatures, which left me exposed to the buffeting winds that nearly bowled me over, which made me wish I hadn't lost my other glove.

Stupid glove.

Actually, they were lovely gloves. Black leather and fleece-lined things, supple and elegant with a coy zipper along the back that, when undone, exposed a bright red swatch of calfskin. They were a gift from my mother-in-law. Now I only have one. Where did my left one go? I hearby order all coat makers to put a glove pocket on the inside of each winter coat, so ladies like me can stash their gloves without risking losing one! I'll just sew one in the lining of my pea-colored pea coat...

(Insert utterly cliche segue here)... So, I hop on the train and head into downtown, but instead of listening to the moody folk rock that has become a staple on my iPod, I switched to some drum-and-bass (if you are unfamiliar with drum-and-bass, please try Aphrodite, Dj Dara or Vektor). Niiiiiiiiiice. Very much an urban vibe, especially "Smoke" by Dj Dara. It's like the background music I always wanted to the story of my morning. Like, if I had a camera following me on my morning commute, with the crowded train and me leaning against the car, standing in the stairwell while gazing out the car's window at the skyline and grey atmosphere of a cold Dallas morning, and the camera takes a wide angle shot of me, with the rest of the car out of focus in the background but my reflection visible as I stare out the window.

And now, here I am, steadily editing my way into oblivion. Finger still hurts. Still haven't posted about Sunday. Too much coffee and too much to do. Too much to be to too many people. Thank God for Yoga.

Left turn of phrase

Editor's note: Typing is very painful today because my right ring finger has an infected bit on it due to the cold, murky air of a North Texas winter.

This past weekend was a realy doozy. So much going on can really exhaust you, but at the same time make you feel so real, so alive, so much a participant in a world that you usually watch from the editorial sidelines, telling each team after the fact what they should have done in the first place, knowing that you don't have the guts to follow your own damn advice.

I finally bought a new car this past Saturday. *Hurrah* It's a royal blue pearl 2007 Honda Civic! It's name: Hahn Solo Civic! It's really cute. The new design makes it look very Prius-esque, which is great because I really wanted a Prius, but had to settle for something a bit more modest. He's a lovely machine tho.



That's my father-in-law on my right (your left) and my husband Dave on my left (your right) standing in front of Hahn. Lovely creature, right? I'll put some nice wheels on him and do a few other upgrades when I have a little green to spare.

When I brough Hahn home, I parked him in the driveway and immediately snapped a few shots. Good thing I did, because immediately thereafter a flock of birds descended up on our lot and, however perfunctorily, made many massive bowel movements on my gorgeous, immaculately detailed car. Nice.

That evening, we hopped in Hahn and took a spin down to an art gallery in Deep Ellum called 500X. Great modern art by graduate students from SMU decked the halls. A good friend of Dave's, Vance Wingate, was there, and regardless of the fact that he was charming and entertaining, his work was astoundingly good. Fresh, understated and rich in metaphor, Wingates' rune-like play with construction and symbolism played with the viewers imagination, much like the simplicity of his medium (brown paper lunch bags) and depth of color (rich reds and saffron yellows on hazy beds of sage green).

Dave had been begging me to wear this dress I got at retropolis*. It's this floor length psychadelic gown with a scoop neck and 3/4 sleeves with an empire cut. It's very flowy, and doesn't have great berth for shoes (my heels on my boots kept snagging the flowy train) but it's a gorgeous dress about a hem away from perfection. I put it on with some heavy black eyeliner and smoky lids, a black pashmina shawl wrapped loose around my neck and my hair held back tight with a wide black headband. I slipped on my knee-high, black leather boots and pinned the dress up at the hip to give it a little flirty drama and show a little leg. Very cute.

We went to a quick dinner at St. Pete's Dancing Marlin. I had 1/2 Chin Chin's chicken sandwich with a house salad (dieting, folks) and Dave had the penne tossed with fresh basil pesto (very tasty! He got this just so I could try it without feeling obligated to eat a whole thing!). We went home and I rinsed off the night and crawled into bed, knowing that in my driveway was a gorgeous, birdshit clad car, in my living room was a wonderful, sweet, baseball-addicted husband and under the covers was a neurotic, chaotic, loving and loyal little dog with a superiority complex.

Coming Soon: What happened Sunday???

I've seen worse, right?

First little thing before I break into an angry rant:

The worst aspect of being deaf is the paranoia at work. I am constantly watching conversations go on in other people's offices where I cannot read lips and cannot hear the conversation. I wonder if they're talking about me. What would they be saying? Are they plotting my resignation? It's really terrible and stresses me out like you wouldn't believe.


Okay.

So this morning isn't shaping up so great. I was exhausted going to bed last night so I was sure to turn my alarm up to "loud." Well, that didn't help, because I overslept. Actually, we all overslept. We were racing to get out the door this morning, and as we were getting situated in the Jeep, I looked at Dave's travel mug and asked, "Where's your lid?"

"It's right there?"
"Where? There's no lid."
"There isn't?"

He tipped the mug to the side and forward and observed that, right as rain, his mug really didn't have a lid on it. This observation was followed by maniacal, hysterical laughs, and he then demanded my house keys so he could go back inside and grab the lid he was so certain that already covered his coffee.

Off we went, and sure enough, at the end of our block we hit the crowded channels of traffic one would normally expect later in the morning. A few choice expletives later and we were back on track. Dave swiftly dropped me at the train station and I got my iPod on, like I always do, and put myself on autopilot. Well, so much for that when I discovered that the escalator to the platform was broken, again. I had to wait and miss my train for the elevator (that's right, only ONE elevator) to come back up. I snatched a tabloid, caught the next train and snaked a seat (usually never happens, so I thought my luck was changing).

Read, read, read... And it's my stop. I exit the train car and hustle across the tracks. Now, the freedom of my morning ends when I have to take my iPod off and actually communicate with my coworkers. If it were up to me, I'd ignore them and listen to music all day if I could. I can't. That sucks. I try to savor those last few moments before I have to sit down and my desk and face the void. I walked very slowly to the building, shuffled through the lobby, and trudged up the stairs while listening to the Garden State soundtrack. Really, it was as close to bliss as I'll probably get today.

Then, I reached the fourth floor, impending doom... I put my satchel at rest on my desktop and began to unpack my lunch when I noticed an oily spot on my calendar. My lunch had leaked through it's protective sheath (plastic grocer's bag)! So I set it down on my desk (!!!) and it leaked onto my iPod headphones and a few papers (!!!). So, I wiped my calendar and desk down with a Kleenex, stuffed my lunch into the refrigerator and went back to my desk to take off my own protective sheath (H&M pea-colored wool coat) when I noticed that one of my earrings was missing! (nuclear breakdown!!!)

Now, I'm really trying to keep from getting too involved with my coworkers. A little while ago I noticed that I was really cluing them in way too much about my personal life. I was talking about me too much and asking too few questins about others; a sure sign of a self-involved bitch. I don't want to be that person, so I figured if I wasn't going to ask questions about others, then I was just going to shut up.

Let's see how long I go before I unload this sorry story of how incredibly crappy my morning has been.

P.S. The earring I lost was a Christmas gift from my brother and his wife!!! :( I suck!

100% Wool

I started knitting a hat on Tuesday from the most gorgeous variegated chunky wool by Crystal Palace Yarns. I'm really self conscious about it, so I won't post pictures until I'm a ways into it. I haven't knitted with wool in a while, staying with novelty yarns that hide mistakes, but now, I'm ready to take the leap.

After this hat, I plan to knit some gauntlet fingerless mittens and then another hat, and then another hat...

I got plenty of yarn for christmas, including a gift card to Joann's, but I have yet to find a good LYS (knitter-speak for Local Yarn Store). If anyone out there knows a particularly good one in the White Rock Lake area, please turn me on to it!

Lies, Damn Lies and Statistics

Just took a gander at my blog stats. Pit-e-full. I wrote 143 blogs in 2005 (June - December) and less than half that in the full duration of 2006 (70). My record for 2007 isn't looking so swell either, with only 3 blogs so far and the month is coming to a close!

So, I think that I should probably get to work a little early to blog in the morning. Mostly just to get my brained warmed up so I can edit a little sharper and make better picks for our pages. You know, writing takes up about 20 percent of your active brain, whereas most tasks usually take less than 5!

This morning on the train I was listening to "If it was you" by Tegan & Sara. The whole album is such a mixed bag. When I'm actively listening to music, be it on the train, bus or while I'm ignoring Dave, I like to put my iPod on shuffle and hit the advance button until something clicks, and there I'll stay until it's time to shuffle and click, shuffle and click. Shuffle. Click.

But I decided to listen to the album most of the way through, resisting the urge to skip to the next track. Best. Decision. Ever. The way the album is laid out, you've got a flowing mixture of up-tempo, acoustic/lyrical, ballad-type songs that all mingle and mix incredibly well. And, if you've ever sampled the Canadian twins that harmonize like sitar and flute, well, you're missing out.

I got off the train today, sipping my coffee and enjoying the brisk, chilly wind against my cheek as the conductor crossed the intersection and waved, and I departed toward my downtown desk with a smile. It's amazing what difference a good soundtrack will have on a usually lackluster commute.

Addendum

I looked at the previous post and there was nary a photo of Fitzy. Pity that!

Didja miss me?

It's been hectic around here, still recovering from Christmas, still longing for my family that I haven't seen since Thanksgiving... It's rough being popular.

Everyone is doing well at the House of England.

The cats, realizing their lifelong dream of real estate ownership, have aquired a condo together:


Dave, realizing that Italy is only a plate of pasta away, has over indugled:


Knowing that it just isn't New Years Day without Hop 'n John and cabbage, have cooked up plenty of good luck and money:



My photogenic sister has visited, knowing full well that I am addicted to black and white film, good vodka and relaxing weekends with my camera:



Mr. Orange, emminent tabby of the block that he is, frequently enjoyed his newly acquired digs with a decent view of the front yard, that is frequently less-than-decent looking:



And I have, and will continue to drink San Francisco beer although I am far from the Bay area, which is quite disconcerting, considering those bastards over there ripped my heart out and buried it there (San Francisco, that is):



OH!!! And Heavens! How could I forget!? We made pizza from scratch!

My fridge is full, yo.

I didn't feel the post-Christmas letdown like most everyone else. Why? Because the day after is my birthday, fool! God! How on earth could you forget???

Well, those who didn't forget made it one of the nicest birthdays I've had (even though I didn't get any knitting needles or yarn). Dave drove me to work and dropped me off with a kiss, and throughout the day my siblings called to wish me a good 24th birthday. Sweet!

At lunch, Dave made his way upstairs to my office with a bunch of pink Gerbera daisies! They're so sweet! (They're what keeps me cheery in this bleak oak-paneled hell.) We then went out to lunch at Landry's Seafood restaurant, which was nice, too. What I really enjoyed was the walk to and from lunch. We strolled, partly with my camera out, down to the West End (the really super touristy part of downtown that has since become decrepit but still houses the Sixth Floor Museum from which you can gaze the line of sight that Lee Harvey Oswald used to shoot JFK). We talked and laughed -- I hadn't felt so happy in a long time. It was incredible.

When we got to the restaurant I felt so relaxed, it was nice to have an intimate lunch all to ourselves, with me not worrying about getting back to the office on time. We used to do this a lot when Dave was working in a retail outlet and had Wednesday off, but now he works straight 8-to-4 at the corporate headquarters and our lunches are but a memory.

I hated to leave him at the parking area, but I trudged upstairs and returned to the grind.

That evening we went to dinner with his parents, after which a big fat Italian guy sang some Italian version of "Happy Birthday" and embarassed me so terribly that I buried my face in Dave's jacket. For dessert I had chocolate mousse with a vanilla ribbon. It was terrific.

Rewind to Christmas Eve, well, that was an experience. It was my first away from the "Jemison Clan." My first Christmas as an England. We had a very non-traditional dinner at my in-laws on Christmas Eve and opened each others gifts. I had knitted my mother-in-law a scarf and framed a photo of Dave and I at Lombard St. in San Francisco. We also gave her a box of sweet-smelling potpurri and the most awesome scented candle you could imagine. It was "Mexican Pumpkin" and good enough to eat.

On Christmas Day, well, it was my turn to pay it all back. I cooked a stuffed loin of pork with a spinach gratin, wild mushroom risotto and fingerling potatoes. This being not just any dinner, I made it all full-flavor, full-fat. That's right, I used real butter, fresh ingredients and prime pork loin, lightly trimmed. Everything was delicious, and it was incredible having my mother-in-law in the kitchen helping with the meal. By the time we were done, she had been washing the dishes as I dirtied them, leaving nary a one in the sink while we served dinner. That was such an incredible help. She can help in my kitchen any day!

Ahh... just thinking about all those wonderful leftovers has gotten me hungry!

Party pooped

I busted my hump to take Friday off. I dropped Dave off at work, came home and woke myself with coffee and the newspaper. I often heard of people that enjoyed this custom, never really experiencing it myself. I think retirees are the ones that sit down at the breakfast nook with ink-stained fingers, warm coffee and contentment.

I decided to go to lunch with Dave, but he was able to take the rest of the day off. We strolled over to a German deli next to the bookstore and took in some ham, potato soup and sauerkraut. With the day in front of us like a veritable buffett of holiday shopping and potential bankruptcy, we hopped in good ol' Gertie (Dave's Jeep Wrangler) and set out for the DVD store, World Market and later, the gym.

Flagged only by our waning bank cards, which were begging to be left at peace in our wallets, we headed home to put up our booty. We picked up a couple of bottles of vino, one bottle of Brut, and settled in for the night. (I think that's what happened. It's Thursday already and I can't remember exact details that far back.)

Saturday, we knew was going to be a little trying. We had two appearances to make, one of them being the over-priced and underwhelming annual dinner with a few of our friends (Dave's friends mostly. I'm the youngest member of this group, which is mostly comprised of old college friends, their glistening and gilded wives and a few hold-outs with no immediate plans for wedded "bliss," ie. the symptomatically single friends.)

I decided to go do a little yarn shopping while Dave took Fitzgerald out on a run. I had to get a few skeins for last-minute Christmas crafts. When I got back, we showered and agonized on what we would wear to dinner and the cocktail party later. I settled a slim-fitting, black, 3/4 sleeved wrap dress with fishnets and stilettos garnished with a long tied string of faux pearls and a gauntlet of pear bracelets wrapping my wrist.

We arrived at dinner, fashionably late, and hobbled down a spiral staircase to a private dinner in the wine cellar of a North Dallas bistro. The wine was dated and over-priced, as were the dishes. The bruschetta was remarkably fresh and well done, as was the courgettes and calamari, the small zucchini was sliced thin and fried in an airy tempura along with the calamari, which was the most perfect texture. Everything else, including the shrimp cocktail and the bottle of bubbly, was less than optimal. I'd venture to call it staid.

We drove to the next party, a heavy languor from the previous one still riffing, and we hastily grabbed glasses of a fresh, fruity Pinot Grigio as I headed to the back to shoot pool with complete strangers. I had to kick off the stillettos as the room that kept the poot table was carpeted with a thick pile, and if I had sashayed around the table as I normally do in ice-pick, 4-inch heels, the scene would be embarassing to say the least. We left the party, our night salvaged along with some espresso and chocolate truffles.

I was totally unprepared for Sunday's party. It was a lunch-time office get-together and I was completely wrecked from the night before. After an entire pot of coffee and the Sunday paper, I knew I would make it after a shower and a brief nap.

The party was office-y. The gifts were deeeee-lightful. Homemade pate and cranberry orange conserve. Hosts after my own heart!

Monday and Tuesday are still a haze. I changed my name legally and went car shopping. Still looking to get a VW Jetta, but I'm not sure if we can afford it. We'll try, though.

Anyway. There's the update. I hope to blog again soon with pictures of Christmas glee!

Newest member of an exclusive club

On Sunday, as we unloaded our belongings from the trunk of Cody's car in the misty morning drizzle, I noticed that we had a new member of our family hugging the curb.

We are now members of a very exclusive club in Dallas: Owners of a Big Blue Recycling Recepticals, courtesy of the city of Dallas!

Dallas is new to the idea of recycling. When we moved to the Lakewood area, we were astounded by the lack of recycling recepticals in the community. We used to drop our glass, paper, aluminum and plastic off at a nearby church, but for some reason, they discontinued their recycling program.

After that, Dave had to haul our recycling to work, because at Half-Priced Books they had enormous recycling bins where we could unload two weeks worth of junk. Now, we will journey no further than the end of our driveway with our recycleables! Dallas now has single-stream recycling. Just toss all your recycleables into one can and they sort it all themselves!

YAY!!!

Open Bar Matrimony

Friday night we slipped out to go get a wedding gift for Mark and Nichole, two crazy kids that were to get hitched the next day. Thank goodness they had a few things left on their registry.

We usually go out on Friday nights, and I was craving sushi. Too bad, though, because every restaurant we considered going to was packed. After we stopped at Whole Earth Provision Co., we considered going to Rockfish, but we bet the wait was going to be heinous. Then we hatched a plan: We'd drop the packages off at the house, and then we'd get a table at our neighborhood Mexican seafood restaurant, La Calle Doce.

I figured, what the hell, seafood is seafood.

When we got there, the tiny lobby was packed. There was a 30 min. wait. That was the third strike -- we had to get dinner, and we had to get it fast. Lo and behold, there was a beacon of hope -- a seedy looking cafe with a neon sign professing "Bangkok Inn - Authentic Thai."

Me, I'm a culinary wuss when it comes to adding a little heat to anything, and all of the Thai food I've had in the past was over seasoned. "If it's too hot, I can't eat it," I told Dave. He said we could ask them if we can get any chili or peppers on the side. So, in the cold and wet evening, we trotted across the street.

When the door openend just a crack, we heard jangling bells that announced our presence to a short, thin Asian woman with stylish glasses and Texas-style hair. Dave asked her quietly if the food here was very spicy, and from her tiny frame she guffawed, "Thai food is not spicy when good! Come sit and try!"

She ushered us into a table for two bathed in a faint red neon glow. We ordered jasmine tea and tofu satay. Dave ordered the shrimp and chicken pad thai and I ordered the peanut chicken. I'm sure their satay is great, but ours didn't arrive, but our orders came out very quick.

The rice was perfectly steamed. The peanut sauce was sweet and tangy, had plenty of savory spices, and went well with the chicken and crisp vegetables. The pad thai though, it just wasn't as flavorful as I expected. It tasted kind of off, a little too fishy for only having shrimp in it. The rice noodles were done well, but it was like everything else took on this crazy fish taste. I stuck with the peanut chicken.

Alcohol wasn't served, it was strictly BYOB. It was obviously a family operation. The father was in the kitchen, the son and daughter took orders and bussed tables while the mother managed the cash register and picked up drinks. Stray Asian art clung to the greasy wood-paneled walls, just above the threadbare carpet. It was definately one of those "authentic" experiences.

We went home and collapsed. We woke up late on Saturday, had breakfast, went on a run with Fitzgerald, showered, packed and then Cody showed up at about 3:30. The wedding was at 4:30 at the Perkins Chapel on campus at SMU. I had never been on campus there. It was neat.

Anywho.

The chapel, with it's classy, faintly gilded mouldings, grand pillars with great curves and golden recessed cross just above the altar, was probably one of the most sedated yet elegant churches I've been in. There was no stained glass, no icons; it was very small and utilitarian.

We got there just in time to watch the procession. The bride and groom are really sweet people, but a few of the bridesmaids looked like they were wearing teal-colored sausage casings. Ushers and groomsmen were clad in black, the flowers, the outfits, everything was modest in an attempt at elegance. It worked.

We then hit it on the head to the reception. That's where things got impressive. There was a DJ, two buffetts, two bars and a champagne cocktail bar. Big gripe: Way too much Sinatra. The people seemed nice and accomadating, the drinks were generous and the salad and vegetables were very fresh, but the chicken looked like it had been sitting in the oven all day -- dry and shriveled, caked in breadcrumbs. It was all wrong.

All was forgiven after a few trips to the champagne bar. What an awesome idea!

We had to cut out early to Denton for a concert. We got to Caffery's, changed and went to Rubber Glove's to watch The Drams and Centro-matic. I caught up with Caffery during most of the show.

If you followed this narrow staircase up the the second level, you were in the midst of such a awkward, secret-seeming room. The walls were bordered with a few old arcade games and odd-and-end chairs. The back was cornered with a broken-in black leather sofa. That was our domain. It was the only bar I'd ever been in with a book by Jimmy Carter sitting out on one of the tables. Oddly enough, most bars I go to don't have books anywhere. Ever.

We went downstairs a couple of times for a drink and I noticed a chick wearing this fuzzy, knee-length coat. I brushed my hand along it and asked if it was real fur, "Of course it is," she haughtily shot back. All I could say, while keeping my hand from accidentally smacking her across the face was, "I'm so sorry." She wanted to say something to me, but I merged with the crowd hovering about the bar and placed my order.

It was like the summer I first moved to Dallas, me and Caffery at the bar, she with a Coors Light, me with a Lone Star, everyone else so self-absorbed that nothing else, not my Lone Star and not Caffery and not my existence, none of that mattered.

We all crashed at Caffery's that night, we woke on Sunday and made it back to Dallas in the drizzle that covered the near-noon sky. It was impossible to imagine that there were people running a marathon in downtown Dallas right at that moment.

We stopped by the house and dropped off our belongings and headed over to the Garden Cafe for omlettes and coffee. Then, it was off to the gym... Then it was all over. My weekend, as Dave would say, was murdered.

Proofs...

Even after a good show, there's nothing that stings quite like seeing your favorite band and not hearing your favorite song. No matter how hard they rocked, or how much you lived the music, it still kinda hurts to be a loyal fan and not have the one memory of that one song belted out live and loud so you can sing with them, at the top of your lungs.

If anyone out there was at the Friday Mates of State show, I was the moron screaming "PROOFS!" after every song, hoping that they'd play it. Silly me. I did get a bitchin' shirt.

We were out kinda late at the Sons, so I didn't go to yoga class Saturday morning, but we did go shopping LIKE CRAZY! We got a new stainless steel step trash can for the kitchen, that came with a little baby one just like it that I've put in the bedroom! (Yes, I am clearly excited about the new waste receptacle). And, I got a new hard drive for Agnes, my computer, 250 GB IDE drive. We'll see if I can actually get it to work as a slave. *FINGERS CROSSED*!!!

I got a new necklace, it's a gold pendant with a cutout of a lotus flower. If Dave really loves me, he'll get me one of these for Christmas or my birthday.

You know, I had a ton of things I wanted to blog this weekend. Lots of intriguingly philosophical tidbits. Just like me, though, to forget them and go on with this completely vapid, humorless post.

Enjoy?

"WINTRY MIX 06"

Today is a "snow" day, if you can call it that. There was a fairly annoying drizzle and temperatures have dipped to 29 degrees. Flurries and ice have been reported. Sounds pretty lame, but people actually stayed home to avoid driving in the weather. Heck, if I drove to work, I just might have worked from home (if I could) only because North Texans are generally terrified of driving in icy conditions. Sprinkle a few hyper-paranoid soccer moms with SUVs in winter weather driving conditions, and well, you've got a bona fide crisis on your hands.

Sitting in my cubicle, though, I am envious. I'm surrounded by dark, empty offices. Several couch jockeys scoff at my oak-paneled hell here in downtown Dallas. While they are snuggled up with their pets, tea and slippers, I brave the wind, the sleet and the "snow" in heels and a parka to get the next edition out...

... bastards.

And doggie makes three!

Dave, Fitzy and I headed down to Houston this weekend. Thank God Dave's dad let us borrow his Passat, which has made me change my mind about buying a Toyota. Volkswagens are just so nifty. And cute, too!

It was fun to be with the Jemison Clan this long weekend. Everyone was in town, except Aron, who couldn't make it because he was in the middle of an out-of-state job.

We cooked we ate and we enjoyed one another. I honestly don't think there was any major conflict during the weekend between any of us, which is a feat in itself.

I visited Kara in her new apartment and Phillip and Meggo in their new house. My brother and sister-in-law and my newly minted hubby watched Shogun Assassin. Really, it was awesome. The most campy Kung Fu movie ever! It was a real blast to watch, considering the large amounts of orangey-red blood in every scene and the half-assed special effects! A real must-see!!!

On Saturday I went yarn shopping with my mother. Honestly, that was the most fun I had all weekend, excluding going on a motorcycle ride with my dad! If I have time later this week, I'll post pictures, but even though I don't have a vacation coming around for a while, this past four-day excursion will do well to hold me over!

Tossed, turned, battered and fried...

I felt like a half-eaten chicken fried steak Thursday morning: tossed, turned, battered and fried, then left in the fridge for later. It was the second in what I fear will become a succession of nights in which sleep is won in an epic battle between man and beast and man.

Fitzgerald insists on sleeping in our bed. I'm okay with that, except that he insists on sleeping right in between me and Dave, which makes our roomy Queen-sized bed seem like an Army cot. And I can't just usher him to the foot of the bed ... I feel like that would be mean, and I intend to spoil him rotten. So I roll over and over to get comfortable without disturbing the dog and without falling off of the bed. It's like mattress olympics, but not sexy.

My mother called last night and asked me what I thought about Donald Rumsfeld's resignation. I really was kind of taken that my mother asked in the first place, so assuming that she really wanted to know, I went off in my analysis of current events leading up to Rummy's pink slip and what his permanent vacation might mean for the Bush administration and our troops in Iraq.

When I was done she said, "Well ... Okay. Let me tell you what my friend is doing. She's working for this Presbyterian church and they've brought in this fundraiser ... "

I should have known. She was just being nice!

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Thursday night we watched Woody Allen's Match Point. Honestly, how did this flick garner so much critical acclaim? It was so slow, and predictable, notably due to the fact that the plot was the premise of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. I have to say that the book was boring, even torturous, when I was forced to read it in high school. Honestly, it might have been worse, because we were obliged to fast-forward through some parts.

That was one wasted Netflix rental. I gotta check the queue to make sure that we don't have any more flops in line.

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We're due for car shopping soon. I think that once my payroll situation is straightened out, I'll get one of those Nissan Versas, or maybe a Toyota Yaris. Not sure. I was once dead set on getting a Scion xB, but I'm not so sure now. I really wanted to get a Prius, but I don't think that selling the Jeep is in the cards right now. We're having a lot of difficulty being a one-car household with all of the things we're involved in. Maybe once we're ready to buy another car, and we sell the Jeep, we'll get a hybrid. Looks like for now though, I gotta give up the dream of having a Prius.

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Feels good to blog again, folks. Feels good to be back.

Toofless

Everything was nuts on Thursday morning, as I was making preparations in the office to be out that afternoon and Friday to have my wisdom teeth removed. During my consult with the oral surgeon on Tuesday, he said that instead of four wisdom teeth, I only had two, indicating that I am indeed the pinnacle of evolution, as our genes fail to produce the two bottom, more superfluous teeth.

Dave retrieved me after the surgery, and it was the weirdest sensation ever having your entire mouth deadened. We picked up my prescription for vicodin and antibiotics and some coffee-flavored ice cream, and I proceeded to rock my new faux-fur-trimmed slippers all weekend.

That evening, Vicki came by to drop off some chicken potato soup and some magazines. I tell ya, those womans' magazines are so interesting when you're locked in a drug-induced haze. I read through Woman's Day and Family Circle during the incredibly embarrassing Maverick's game. Marcus had come by to join us, and while leafing through the recipes, I managed to get a few shots of the boys.









Fitzgerald now has quite the wardrobe. He has a tee shirt, a cable-knit sweater and a collared tee shirt. All he needs is a pair of boots and he's fully dressed! However, we did somehow manage to loose his collar. How pitiful!

Yesterday, I baked. I made my first two successful loaves of bread! I'm not talking you're banana-nut confections, or my zucchini bread, but real, honest to goodness sandwich bread! It's soooo good!



I also made one regular sized loaf of buttercup squash bread and three mini loaves for folks at work.

I can't wait to make more bread!!! YAY!!!