26 blog (update)

This morning as I left the house for my run, Cheap Trick got me doing the “air drum”.  It was relatively warm out (read: above freezing), the ice sheets and piles of snow are starting to melt, the sun was already up, and the beat was catchy.  “I want you to want me.”  It really can’t be any simpler than that.  “I need you to need me.  I’d love you to love me.  I’m beggin you to beg me.”  Right?? 

So, let’s recap briefly on some of my previous blogs.

Bl(ow)g Tattoo (21): I have since gone back for color.  Didn’t even break a sweat, much less nearly die.  The demons must be gone.  I twitched once, but that was it.  Maybe a residual demon smudge.

Blog-day the 13^th:  I can finally start to answer some of those “what ifs”.  What if I go nuts sitting in a cube all day?  Um, it’s getting seriously close.  What if I don’t like research anymore?  Come on, we know my answer to that is “meh”.  What if they make me do Institutional Review Board submissions?  It’s been threatened/promised.  Wheee.  What if I have to do difficult statistics I don’t even remember how to do anymore?  Not an issue.  Phew.  What if I can’t stream Pandora on my computer there?  Well, I can’t, but my phone has done fairly well in that regard.  What if the girls in the cubes next to me talk all day really loud on the phone or have fake nails that clack on the keyboards and feels like they are typing ON MY BRAIN?  They’re not too loud, my head phones drown out a lot of the noise, and it’s my newly grown out nails that are loud and clacky.  Hah.  And now I have to pay for parking and I won’t get to see my buddies anymore…did I make the right choice?  I do have to pay for parking ($57/month, can you f-ing believe it??).  I see my buddies occasionally; they help pass the time during the day with their texts and I love that no longer being co-workers has really eliminated some boundaries and I believe made us better friends…but as far as making the right choice???  I have no idea.  I can say I don’t miss the travel, the snowy drives over the passes, or the restaurant inspections.  (I did a total of 1,475 restaurant inspections during my career).  I do however, very much miss the camaraderie I had at work.  I was part of a team.  They all knew what it was like to all do the job, and it felt supportive and inclusive.  Here, I am not a part of the team.  I work with a team, but I’m the only one who isn’t a nurse or clinician.  I’m everyone’s afterthought.  I’m invited to meetings or lunches moments before they occur.  They forgot my birthday.  They are clique-y.  Booooo.

The Blog that Comes 9^th in Sequence: I have since received another inspirational email.  “Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart”. –Pablo Casals.  Thank you, Pablo, for putting into a short sentence how I feel.

Blog IV: I have successfully completed list of short-term goals.  Slightly longer term goals of 1) ride 50 miles (I made it 40…); 2) Go roller skating again, even if it’s cold out (it’s been icy too…so, no); 3) Attempt to enjoy and not resent the winter in Colorado (impossible, against my very nature); 4) Build and maintain meaningful relationships…success!  Work in progress, but doing well.  Hooray for friends.  As far as long term goals…who fricking knows.  Day at a time.

Blog 1: I am flattered to say that my blog has inspired a friend to also blog.  That is really fricking awesome.

And in re-reading them all, I was amused to see how many of them are about love.  Crazy love, old loves, new loves, falling in love, being in love.  It’s at least, every other blog.  I’m love-sick. 

I can think of worse things. *winky face*

I heart my car (this is the 25th blog)

Here’s a funny little story.

So during that horrendous cold snap earlier this week, I fell even more deeply in love with my heated seats.  My car gave me moments of entertainment, as it showed me the ambient exterior temperature was in fact, minus ten. 

And then when my windshield wiper fluid level was below half, I got a fun little warning reminding me to check said level.

So when my heater started blowing progressively tepid air, I assumed it just was really cold outside and not that there was anything wrong.  I mean, I received no warnings.  I figured there would be some icon of a penguin, or perhaps a fire with a slash through it to represent “no heat”.  A friend offered a possible icon of a popsicle beating up a human.

Finally, I believe there is a real problem.  This occurs to me when it’s 1°, and I feel like I’m being hugged by Angels on my bottom half (via the heated seat) and by the Icy Cold Grip of Death on my top half.  I could see every puff of air come out of my mouth as I sang along to Madonna (“life is a mystery…everyone must stand alone…”).

I take it in to the dealer.  Who of course, is able to produce heat.  Embarrassing enough, but I insist through gesturing and desperate explanation that there is an actual problem.  The service guy offers me a loaner car (read: brand new Mercedes) that I can take while they run their diagnostics.  Awesome.  So we start to go through the paperwork, and this is how that conversation goes:

Him: Now I’ll need to see your license and insurance information.

Me: *hand it over*

Him: Thanks. *Typing*  *hands info back over*

>pause<

Him: When does your license expire?

Me: Let me see… *pulls it out of wallet….heart sinks, face turns red, head drops in shame*  It expired on my birthday!  I can’t believe it’s 2011!  I am so embarrassed.

Him: I can’t let you take the loaner without being legally licensed….

Me: *trying to disappear into the chair* I can come back once I get it renewed…(I say quietly)

Him: …but I’m going to anyway.  You can try to renew your license on line.  You should do that right away.

Me: Yeah, I will.  I’m so embarrassed.  *slinking out of the chair towards the loaner car which is worth more than my annual salary, and possibly my combined household income*

Anyway, later that afternoon he calls with the news that yes, in fact, the thermostat is broken.  And so are my front ball joints (I already know this).  He quotes me the thermostat repair cost, and the cost to replace the joints.  On my “list of things to repair” sheet I got last time I was there, the stated price for the ball joints was $467.  So when he tells me they’d be something like $220 , I’m like, YES!  Please repair those as well.  Thank you so much service man.  Oh, and would you please check to see why my windshield wiper fluid squirter is squirting less on the passenger side?

So when I pick up the car, with completed repairs at almost half the expected cost, and get an additional discount for having an older car, and they have unclogged my squirters for free, I have to wonder….

…was my utter humiliation that charming?  Was the way I said “windshield wiper squirters” that cute?  I must have a knock-out blush to get away with an illegal loaner Mercedes, discount ball-joints, free unclogging, and then additional discounts off parts and labor.  The whole thing cost me about the same as the original ball-joints estimate. 

So, uh, boo-yah?  Thank you, kind service man.  I loved every minute of the heat this morning.  And knowing that I was right about the thermostat takes the sting out of that repair cost.

Painted (XXIV)

  

This blog might get a little “out there”, but try and stick with me. 

So imagine that there’s like, an energy we all carry around with us all the time.  Just a general cloud of “us-ness”, not necessarily visible, but maybe even a little bit tangible (on a different level) and certainly powerful.  Maybe we leave traces of this us-ness on places we’ve been.  Maybe light dustings over roads we travel occasionally, maybe full-on puddles and pools of it in places we love or visit often.  I envision, for example, a strip of this me-ness along the Cherry Creek and Highline Canal paths.  Probably on paths leading to and from jobs, friend's houses, along highways once driven many times.  The more strongly I feel about a place, the depth of whatever emotion I’m feeling while I’m there, or maybe just even how frequently I visit, the more me-ness is left there.

Let’s say that maybe strange places we’ve never been to before feel strange because there’s no you-ness there already.  Or places you’ve never been to before that don’t feel strange may have a touch of someone-else-ness that feels familiar and safe. 

I even think that if I’m driving/biking/walking/running along somewhere, listening to a song, or thinking a particular thought, or just thinking about someone/something in general, that a bit of the me-ness that is left there is tinged with that emotion.  Like, when I’m biking one day, let’s say I’m listening to U2 and thinking about all the things I’ll miss about my old job and things I’m scared about my new job, a little bit of the bike path in Aurora is painted that color.  Or my first independent trip driving through Glenwood Canyon (like, forever ago, before I drove up there all the damn time), listening to ATB, admiring the snow stuck to the rocks, will always be that color first.  It’s been painted probably at least 40 other colors now, with 40 other songs and 400 other thoughts, but that canyon the first time is the strongest.

So that little yellow marker on the bike path is painted Berlin and heartache.  And the tree that a magpie is always sitting in is painted cold and sad, but the sunrise in the east is painted with love and friendship.  Boom Boom Pow is Highline Canal and flatter abs self-acknowledgement (boo-ya).  My new office is Crystal Castles, and finally feels like there’s some me-ness left around.  Not quite so foreign and weird.  Old office is totally covered in me-ness and all my sentimentality.  Bet you didn’t know that, CDPHE.  Me-ness blankets your buildings.  Try and rinse that off!  “Lindsay was here”.   Glenwood Springs and Rifle Hampton Inns, in particular room 401 in Rifle which I seemed to get more often than not for some reason, you’re officially tagged.  Rifle Wal-Mart bakery: BOOM. 

Fort Collins and CSU: don’t even try and get me out of the 12^th floor stairwell of Westfall Hall.  Or the movable shelves in the basement of the library.  Even after you flooded, I’m still there.

This energy that I’ve left in places important to me will forever feed my nostalgia.  This is why I feel so strongly sentimental about all these things (especially [?] songs).  They’ve been possessed by some me-ness, or you-ness, or someone-else-ness that I don’t want to let go of.  Strong associations. 

I’m trying to think of a closing statement, other than it felt important to write down.  I could go on forever.

Happy Blog-day to me! (#23)

I turned 33 yesterday.  It has (and will continue to be) a really nice birthday experience so far.  Just so we are clear, my birthday is generally recognized as beginning the weekend before the week in which it actually occurs, and continues through the following weekend. 

So the weekend before, we were invited to a friend’s house for a dinner with my former co-workers (and now good friends).  I was promised a pirate party hat to wear, which I was pleased to receive.  The food was incredible, as was the company.  Really fun night.  I was even able to successfully execute some of my new dance moves learned in a hip hop class I’m taking.

On my birthday, my phone continually chimed throughout the day as people posted happy (and cake-filled) wishes to my Facebook page and sent me emails.  My Mom called and thanked me for being such an amazing, accomplished daughter.  My Dad has been sending similar praise.  I’m *glowing*.

For dinner, I made us reservations at a restaurant that I have been to with literally almost all of my friends, and poor Husband has not yet tried.  It’s as incredible to him as I’ve described.  We have sweet potato falafel, “Devils on Horseback” (date and goat cheese stuffed peppadews, wrapped in Serrano ham OMG), Hoisin duck confit sliders (as I told several friends: “the best Hoisin sauce and duck fat running down my fingers experience ever), banana crème brulee pie, and croissant bread pudding with a whiskey butter sauce and sour cream ice cream.  AMAZING. 

And to drink, I get the “Pearracuda” with jalapeño-infused agave nectar and Husband gets a “Ginger Mule”, like a ginger beer mojito. 

I checked us in at Root Down on Facebook.  And discover something interesting – three other people apparently have also checked in to Root Down while we were there.  Husband says, “check out their profiles”.  So I do, and start reading this guy’s status updates out loud cuz they were really funny.  Eg: “Watching Yanni on PBS.  Go ahead, challenge my ego”.  Turns out, it was the couple sitting next to us, who overheard me.  Hilarious (or sort of creepy for them).  Ah Facebook, endless amusement.

And then the flowers my mother-in-law had ordered were not delivered to our house yesterday since we weren’t home, were re-delivered to my office today.  Prompting many people to ask why I got flowers, and I am able to humbly/smugly say “it was my birthday yesterday" (read: and you guys didn’t even say anything).  And also enjoy their beauty and subtle fragrance.  Smells like self-satisfaction to me. :-)

Very Un-January Weather (no. 22)

I haven't gone for a bike ride since Christmas Day.  It snowed, and the snow never melted because it stayed so flipping cold.
Then yesterday and today, a reprieve!  The trail was clear enough and it was already in the 40s, so I headed out for my ride.  And for the first time in awhile, I was overdressed!  The gloves came off after 10 minutes, and the jacket after 40.  I wished I could've taken my tights off too, but I had no place to put them.
Anyway, myself and about 4 million other people were on the trail.  This blog will briefly summarize some of the things I encountered on this obstacle course of a ride.
1) The first (and last) parts of my ride are on a portion of the trail that goes through a retirement community.  No matter how loudly I shout "ON YOUR LEFT", these people don't hear me.  They tend to wander and drift about the path, so I am force to shout and subsequently apologize for startling them as I weave my way through the parade of the elderly.
2) When I got closer to my old office building in Glendale, I encountered no less than 100 people jogging in a big spread out and somewhat clumped pack.  They had no numbers on, so it was not a race, yet they didn't interact with each other in a way that would imply they all meant to be there at the same time.  Strange.
3) Strollers too numerous to mention.  And with that, sun bonnets and large floppy hats also plentiful.
4) Children on their bikes, who don't understand "on your left" means "please move to the right of the trail so that I may pass you without incident", forcing me to off-road it.
5) A shirtless man with headphones on, I think maybe doing "the Snake".
6) A man in a recumbent tricycle, with a large orange flag waving behind him.  If it was intended to make him more visible, it was superfluous.
7) Piles and piles of horse manure.
8) Squirrels.
9) An elderly couple, not heeding my warnings, feeding aforementioned squirrels.  When I approached this obstacle, slowly, the couple saw me, barely moved, and continued feeding the squirrels.  The squirrels were too distracted by the food and too unsure about which direction to go, so I ended up nearly running one over.  We shared a near-death experience as I was forced to suddenly stop, remain balanced (not enough room to unclip because the elderly couple never moved out of my way entirely), take the Lord's name in vain, and allow the squirrel to dart back and forth three times before finally running away and allowing me to continue forward instead of falling over sideways. 
With these amusing encounters and the pleasant temperature, it was a lovely 25 miles.

"And I'm on your freaking left".

Bl(ow)g Tattoo (21)

When I was like, 19 or 20, I went and got my second tattoo.  I was taking Japanese in college AND painting, so I figured I should just paint my own kanji character and get that tattooed on my lower back.  So I did, and it was unbelievably painful.  I actually fainted.  Straight up passed up.  I remember my friend Drew trying to tell me something (turns out it was "keep still"), and then the world went gray.  

I can count how many times I've ever even felt faint on one hand:

1) when my step-brother Josh's ulcer put him in agony for the entire drive back from Denver to Laramie

2) when my friend Eric had to change the gauze in his mouth after having his wisdom teeth removed

3) changing my own bandages after a particular surgery

4) after standing up too quickly in my Dad's kitchen (also actually passed out that time)

And then getting this second tattoo.

Anyway, I had always wanted to add to it, and fix the little extra dot that occurred while I was apparently twitching before I lost consciousness, but was always too scared to go back.

But after the trials I went through in 2010, I figured I could handle expanding on the tattoo.  I even knew what I wanted to get.
I wanted a Cheshire cat grin moon, stars, and I wanted my kanji to look better.  So I sketched something, sent it off to an artist at Sol Tribe in Denver, and she sent something back so beautiful.


Mine....



...Sol Tribe artist's


Brief explanation: the kanji means "trust", like the kind of trust you have in a friend.  Or the kind of trust you have that everything happens for a reason, something meaningful, and worthwhile.  The needle for my spinal tap and blood patch went RIGHT through this symbol.

The Cheshire cat has always had a special place in my heart.  I *love* Alice in Wonderland.  And have always particularly liked the John Tenniel illustrations, especially of the cat in the tree, greeting Alice.

The moon also is symbolic to me.  It's like a visual, tangible reminder how small our planet is in the Universe.  Something to feel connected to (by the pull of Earth's gravity), our own special space object always orbiting us.  OK, so that one is a bit hard to explain.  But I always enjoy seeing it up in the sky.  Especially after a new moon when you haven't seen it for awhile.  That waxing little crescent, grinning at you, "I'm back"!

So my drawing combined all these elements - sharper looking "trust" kanji, waxing crescent moon/Cheshire cat grin, with stars and leaves to help combine the astral plane the moon is in with the physical plane where the cat is sitting in the tree.  Waxing moon, coming back from the dark side, growing into it's full potential, kind of like the transition I feel my life is taking.

And so BOOM I go in to Sol Tribe totally pumped and ready.  The artist stencils the drawing onto my back, gets me settled in a chair, and starts.

Seriously, not two minutes into it, I get faint.  Full on pale, weak, shaky, can't barely say "I think I need to lay down".  Nauseated, semi-conscious, I flop onto the table, and remain in the fetal position for the entire rest of the hour and fifteen minutes it takes her to finish.

Mindful breathing.  Feel my breath in, feel my breath out.  Not quite enough distraction.  Mindful tapping on my arm.  I squeeze my fingers on my arm, pinky finger, pointer finger.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  It is occurring to me that this reaction I am having is fairly powerful.  I mention to the artist, "I think you must be working on some kind of acupressure point, or you've found the spot I've been holding onto all my emotions I've held in this year because this is intense".  She totally agrees, "let's exorcise those demons" she says.

Then it's all over, and we can't decide on what colors to add.  She tells me to come back later, and we'll figure it out then.  My back is a swollen, red, ravaged mess, and my blood pressure is at like, 50/0. 
Tottering out of the store, I get in my husband's car, and bawl for the next several hours.  These demons are exorcising the hell out, that's for damn sure.
So for as un-rock star a performance that was for me, I am strongly believing that it was completely cathartic, and not at all pathetic.

Happy Blog-versary to us!

In honor of our upcoming 5-year anniversary tomorrow, I will give my Husband the gift of words, and not wood, as is apparently the traditional gift.  Which is kind of lame. 

Top 5 favorite (most easily remembered) moments (in order of occurrence) so far:

1)      There was one kiss, in my apartment on Downing, up against the fridge, that stopped my heart.  Actually, our first kiss, drunk in the bar, almost made me faint, but that was maybe partially due to blood alcohol content.

2)      When we were walking down the Strip in Vegas, a car pulled out of an alleyway and almost ran me over.  Like, literally almost ran me over.  My mild and even-tempered husband slammed his hands down on the hood of this car, and gave the driver a “want a piece of this??” look.  I swooned.

3)      When he saved me from a spider with incredible ninja-like skills.  We both saw it at the same time: eyes locked onto this mouse-sized creature running across the wall.  Before I could react, Husband is off the couch, shoe off and in one hand, slapping the hell out of it in one swift/deft movement.  Spider is only stunned, and runs beneath the TV cabinet.  I’m standing on the couch like a little girl, probably squealing with giant scared eyes.  Husband is on the hunt, spider is terminated.  Safe!

4)      When he came back to the hospital to be with me for my blood patch (fix-a-flat) procedure.  He dropped me off, went to work, took care of business, and came back to be there for me.

5)      When I was telling friends the story of my spinal headache and ordeals one time over dinner and then felt self-conscious talking so much about it that I dismissed how bad it really was and started to change the subject.  Husband validated the seriousness of the headache by saying it was more than just a headache.  It was my brain sinking in my skull without enough spinal fluid.  It was real, and it was bad.

So maybe there are some things we take for granted (like cerebral spinal fluid, for example) until there’s some moment that puts it all into perspective, and reminds you how meaningful it all is. 

That’s better than wood, any day.

XO