Chuggin' Along

on my own. I miss Don so much I've been listening to country music, and I don't like country. He should be calling pretty soon, funny how it's even worse after hanging up the phone. (I mean, clicking "end". It's not the same thing, really, is it.)

When I was cleaning the bathroom yesterday I realized that our sink was draining really slowly. So I went online and researched clogged sink-drains and how to fix them: went to Home Depot: took apart the drain stopper, unclogged and reassembled it. It made me feel very capable, and also feel that the cat should not sleep in the sink anymore.

The End of the Great Mystery

So at long last Chuck the Cake Hater has come out in the open and . . . it turns out that it's all a big misunderstanding. A case of mistaken identity. Nobody hates me after all, or if they do they're not messing with my blog, at least. Somebody with my name did something bad, but it wasn't me. Which was good because now I can stop running through my personal history, trying to figure out what'd I'd done to deserve such retribution. See, this came to my email (which had also been hacked):

"I'm so sorry for attacking your blog and e-mail. This appears to be a case of mistaken identity. My "boyfriend" cheated on me with a girl whose name is also Mara _____. I thought that was you, but now I know it's not and I am so incredibly sorry. Please know that I did not mean the things I said towards you. Looking back, I should have handled this in a more mature manner anyway."

I thought this was nice, seeing that she could have just ... gone away, and left me to wonder forever who the hell Chuck was. Boy would I hate to have this lady as my enemy! She got into my blog and into my email, too, which I thought would be impossible. Sent emails to everyone on my list. Hacker extraordinare, or maybe my passwords etc. were just too easy. It's nice knowing that it wasn't actually me that inspired such animosity-- I have to say that my self-esteem was starting to chip around the edges, as I was thinking, "Why does this person hate me SO MUCH? Why?" It's kind of a load off my mind, really. I just have to explain to everybody on my email list what happened... argh. At least it's over now.

I'm going to dinner and the movies with my family tonight... not exactly clubbin' but it should be fun. I went out last night to this Addison place and it felt like my friends were the youngest group in there-- it was mostly 40's, the yuppie crowd. Which I guess is ok. It's more fun sometimes to be 25 in an old place than 25 where everyone else is 18 and suddenly you feel old as the hills because your belly isn't perfectly flat and pierced.

Blah. . .

Day off = migraine headache. Again and again and again. Why? Why do I always get headaches on my days off? It's so random and weird. Everything started off great, I had lunch with Ben - then got a massive headache and had to rest most of the afternoon. There must be something about my day-off routine that triggers it, but damned if I know what it is. Little brother is training up to do some crazy Boy-Scouts backpacking hike in the Colorado Rockies next month, so he came over to use the treadmill in our apartment complex gym. He walks up inclines wearing a heavy-loaded backpack: it's mad, I tell you, mad. When Don and I go camping we take the car and spend the time relaxing; cooking over the fire, fishing, (gentle) hiking, canoeing, doing fun things in the tent. Not trekking through mountains with half our body weight again on our backs. Blech.

I got my HP essay all finished up and turned in; it would be very nice if this website published it-- if nothing else I'd like all the feedback. I still need to book a hotel or BnB for our trip to Vermont this October, I need to get on that before they all fill up with crazy leaf-peepers. Which is what we'll be. But still. I'm going to bed super-early tonight to kill this headache, so no more now. Tomorrow I'll feel better and will write something more chipper and upbeat.

It's all good again

Well, I made my comments stupid members-only which was a pain in the neck what with all the email addresses and everything but it all seems to be fixed up now. I've come to the conclusion that "Chuck the Cake-Deprived" isn't anyone I know personally, because I don't know anyone like Chuck; unless he acts vastly different in person i.e. has IQ over 80 or something.

Work is boring, my supervisor compared me to an evil ex-coworker who we all hate but she then apologized for it, and I have tomorrow off. Yay! Who doesn't love a day off? I have to clean the apartment (having neat-freak friends over on friday, mustn't scare them!) but that's ok. It's really not too bad at the moment, anyways. Don is doing pretty well in New Orleans, he sounds upbeat; interested and motivated. He's always good for a change of scenery and I'll bet that this two weeks goes faster for him than for me.

I think I might bake another cake, if for no other reason than to annoy certain cake-hating blog-lurkers. I must check my pantry for ingredients. Pecans, anyone?

Chuck the Cake-deprived

Wow, I just had another really weird blog experience, remants of which remain below. Some bizzare person decided to write anonymous comments on like every blog entry that I'd written so far this far. Strange rude comments, mostly about cake, my ass, and how boring and un-readable the blog is. Which is really ironic, because whoever this was made 60 comments covering 6 months worth of posts! Even if you assume that this character is a speed-reader and got through every post in, say, 30 seconds and then spent another 30 seconds commenting, that's like one hour's worth of reading and writing for blog that is supposedly really boring. If he's not a speed reader, then maybe 1 1/2 hours to 2. That's a lot of time to invest in someone else's blog! I know some people (Ben) will assume it's the same co-worker that I was having blog-issues with before (the one that read my blog and took its contents to our manager behind my back) but I can't believe that that's true for several reasons:

1. It's fairly obvious that it's someone who's never met me as he refered constantly to my fat ass, lard ass, etc. I'm actually not overweight at all, although I could see how one would think that from reading the blog, esp. as there aren't any photos-- baking, not so much eating, is what I talk about but it would take an intelligent mind to notice that. Also, my co-worker and I have a similar build, so it would be very pot-kettle-black if it were her making those "lardass" comments.

2. The tone is very masculine and very dumb. She isn't either of those. If she were going to trash my blog she'd do it in a funnier, sharper way, with very witty, cutting comments.

3. Some really sad things have happened where we work this year; the death of one of our coworkers, and of another one's grandbaby. There's no way she would write disrespectful and mean things about those deaths as they affected her probably as much as me; same goes for my own grandmother's death. I just don't think she could write uncaring things about that, it's just not like her.

4. Almost every comment was a rude, negative remarks about my cake-baking skills, and I know for a fact that my co-worker likes my food! She once even organized a raid on some cookies that I'd been saving for a later meeting, on the grounds that if everybody had one nobody would get yelled at. (she was wrong, but it proves that she likes my cookies and that it would therefore be wrong to dis my cakes all over my blog.) Likewise, whoever it was has clearly never eaten anything I've made before.

So while she can sometimes be petty and immature, she's not mean-spirited like this fella is. Actually she's OK most of the time, and while we rub each other the wrong way sometimes I don't get the feeling that she's very put out with me or anything. So. Clearly this dude has some major dessert-related issues, probably stemming from never getting any cake as a child: it makes him resentful and bitter. I shall call him "Chuck the Cake-deprived" from now on, or until we discover who Chuck really is.
*************************************************************
SO, we have a mystery blog-attacker! How mundanely exiting! I had to spend half and hour dredging up these comments and deleting them-- I left the last couple just for amusement's sake, and had to change my comment options to 'users only', which sucks because I liked never knowing who was going to drop in and say hi. It's just mysterious because if it's someone I know, who could it be? And if it's not, who the hell would spend over an hour messing with a stranger's blog that's supposedly too boring to read? What a conundrum! Chuck, what is going on in that little brain of yours?

Don's only been gone one day and I miss him. The apartment is too quiet without him and the autonomy is weird.

My sister blew off Father's Day entirely-- no phone call, no card, nada. Our dad is so hurt, although of course being a dad he tries not to show it. The whole time yesterday evening there was this question hanging in the air-- where was she? She's also pretty much ignoring me for the time being as she doesn't need our dog-sitting, and if she doens't need something than why would she bother?

*******************************************************

So Chuck, go eat some cake (German Chocolate would be good) and then get laid. God knows you need something to do.

Cakes and alone-ness

Gaaah. Don is going on task force again so he is in New Orleans for two weeks. Please take pity and hang out with me, all those who read this, because I'm sadly unused to being on my own for any length of time. We seem to have become one of those couples who merge into one organism, like ameobas or something and I hate it when he's out of town. He left this morning and doesn't get back until the last of the month. Uuuurgh. So to take up my time I've decided to reallycleantheapartment - finishmyHarryPotteressay andstartanotherone - maybestartaquilttop - getlotsofsleepandexercise - spendmoretimewithotherfriends - cleanthegarage-etc-etc-etc.

I've been baking and etc a lot in the last few days; Don's birthday was Friday and I made his usual German Chocolate cake but with a few modifications. Usually there's this super-sweet pecan-coconut filling and frosting that goes all over the cake and makes it almost sickeningly sweet; this time I used it only as a filling between layers and used a semi-sweet ganache as the frosting--very thinly, like a glaze. It was a definite improvement and cut the sweetness with a more sophisticated, rich bitter-sweet taste. I also replaced the cake-layers with a better recipe--darker, moister, and more chocolatey. Easier, too; the original recipe calls for beaten egg whites and all the jazz which as far as I can tell is only because there are 4 yolks in the filling and they don't want to waste the whites. The one I use is practically a one-bowl. I took a lot of the cake to work with me where it received rave reviews, including several suggestions that I go pro and one offer of a business partnership. Much jealousy of Don was expressed (I can see why he fell in love with you; if I were him I'd be as big as a house, etc) which is really funny because I bake for my coworkers a lot more than I do for him!

Right now I'm making our traditional Father's Day Maple Fudge (Also used as Dad's Birthay Fudge and Dad's Chanukah-present Fudge--what can I say, he loves the stuff!) When you make it with the real syrup it smells just amazing during the boiling stage, where it is right now, to the point where it's making me light-headed. The whole apartment is just drenched in maple-smells. I'm also making tuxedo-strawberries just for fun, because the berries were on sale and I have the white and the dark chocolate laying around.

Food Network has been running all of these cake-decorating shows that have crazy cakes wrapped in fondant and stacked really high; shaped like suitcases, wrapped presents, etc; I'd love to try something like that someday but I think you can only get good with practice, and I can hardly afford to practice something like marzipan or fondant-decorating just for fun. I've always gone for taste alone, before, and tried for the "not-finished-by-small-children-or-special-needs-adults" look as far as finishing went. And that goal usually proves hard for me.

Planning

First, many apologies to my many loyal readers (hahahahhahha) for my long absence--things have been busy lately and for some reason I just haven't felt like going online much. First off, Don and I have settled on next May for our wedding, in Vermont. So if you want to go, there's time to make it happen, and then some! Late May should be do-able for an out-doors wedding up there, if it's not pouring down rain. Meanwhile we're taking a trip there in October, for a vacation and for wedding-reconnaissance. He and I haven't had a vacation since we moved back to Dallas 2 1/2 years ago... that's a long time to go without leaving town, without traveling at all. One little weekend camping trip is all we've done in that time. So we're going back to our town for a week at what should be the peak of leaf season (wow, we've gone from proper residents to leaf-peepers in less than three years, but if you're going to New England, might as well be there when it's at it's nicest. . .) Expect many brightly-colored photos of trees and us wearing sweaters being cute, and such. In December we're going to Big Bend with my family, which should be really fun.

It's finally occurred to me that we each get paid vacation time from our jobs-- why not take vacations? I'm going to try to make it a regular feature in our lives, plan ahead, pick destinations, save money ahead of time. It will be fun. I've never had paid vacation from a job before this one, so it's a new experience. Don prefers being spontaneous, but where does that get you? We're both scheduled in at work weeks or months ahead of time, so "spontaneous" means weekends at the most, driving-distance only: camping. Which is nice but not a real vacation, all that cooking and peeing in the woods.

Harry Potter and writing

I just finished writing a 10-page paper on Harry Potter. No, I'm not in school. Yes, it was just for fun. Is that weird? I like writing (even though now I'm at that icky part where you have to list all your sources and go back and notate, so that it doesn't look like you're copying) and I love good ol' Harry. I was only aiming for 1,000 words or so but they just came pouring out, and now it's 4700. I'm hoping to get it published online at my favorite HP site, even if I have to divide it into two sections or something. I just hope nobody beats me to this paticular topic.

*****************************************************************

Went to Borders today, saw Ben and some other nice people. He's amazed by our friend Amanda's pregnancy--apparently she's just beginning to show at it's hit him like a ton of bricks that she's actually making a baby. He said something to the effect that if he climbed Mount Everest, found a cure for cancer, or landed on the moon it wouldn't be as miraculous as what she's doing right now...

He's hit upon the reason that men do all of these things, for better or for worse; why they throw themselves equally into creation and destruction; buildings, monuments, pyramids, great feats, wars, crusades. . . at 40 he's just realized that he can't make a baby. Every guy realizes at some point that we can do this miraculous, life-creating, baby-building thing, and they just can't. It really makes it kind of obvious why all ancient cultures worshipped the feminine, and why our current patriarchial society does its best to diminish and degrade this act of creation, medicalizing it to the point of making pregnancy a disease that needs constant (male) medical intervention. Interestingly, most of this degradation has come about in the last century and aligns with the rise in status that women have made on other fronts--education, careers, personal relationships. 'They' have to rob pregnancy, birth, and infant-care (especially nursing) of it's incredible power, that power of creation, because it's a power that men don't have, and now women have an almost equal footing in every other field... imagine if we also embraced the power of our bodies to create new life instead of viewing it as something of an inconvenience?
Everybody rants on about how society worships the thin female body, but that isn't exactly it--society's "ideal image" of the female body is that of a very young woman, a teenager. Most women don't realize that by striving to keep off those 5 pounds what they are really doing is trying to stay in a pre-mature state, as dictated by the patriarchy. Really, the teenage female body-- thin, narrow, athletic and colt-like--is very non-threatening and immature. What if instead of striving to keep our bodies in an adolescent state, we took pride in a full, womanly appearance, complete with physical maturity? There's a constant message aimed at women--be young, be thin-- and underlying that message is the one that robs pregnancy of so much: "Your body (which is of course flawed being female) couldn't possibly handle pregnancy and childbirth on its own! You can't take the pain, you'll do it wrong, you need us, the male medical world, to tell you what to do."
What if instead of doubting our bodies and swallowing everything the man in the white coat tells us-- you need an epidural, you need an epistiotomy, you need a C-section-- we trusted our bodies to do what they do best? What if, instead of trying to placate a male-driven society that wants our bodies to themselves, we nursed freely, using various body parts as they were intended by nature rather than by man? We would rule the world, I tell you!

Hmmmm. I seem to have rambled on a bit. Oh well.

My Butt was on TV!

So, yeah, our bank branch got robbed on Tuesday. It was all very scary and dramatic, almost cliche really; man with panty-hose on face takes the money and runs. Police arrive. FBI arrives. Etc. Unfortunately the robber chose just about the worst two people to deal with (for them), one being this poor girl who's pretty new to the bank and is very high-strung to begin with. I wasn't going to mention it but it's been in the news since then so ok. I haven't told my parents yet because they get all freaked out about my working in a bank to begin with and I don't feel like adding fuel to their worries. It'll make a nice anecdote someday, when I'm at a better, safer job.

The funny bit is that the news showed the clip from the security video and because I'm standing right next the teller who was robbed, my rearview was on tv. At 4, 5, 6, and 10 oclock yesterday. Hehehe. I feel like Mike from Monsters Inc. "I.... I was on TV!" This is their story, but no, I'm not in the picture.

http://www.nbc5i.com/newsarchive/9301697/detail.html#

The bank sends councellors out to the bank to deal with the stress and trauma that the tellers go through with something like this. It was too bad that she didn't get there until everyone had left except for me and Jennifer; of everyone that was there we're probably the least in need of psychological aid, being reasonably easy-going and down-to-earth, non-panicky type women. "well, no one was hurt, let's get on with it then!"

Still it has its effects; if nothing else I'm being very careful with my working cash and trying to get a good stare at everyone who comes in the door. I didn't even notice that the poor girl beside me was getting held up until it was half over; I never did get a good look at him either-- that self-preserving instinct to be non-confrontational in dangerous situations had me looking aside, trying to focus on my customer-- the poor guy was standing right next to a robber, after all.

Not a Bad Assessment for 9 Questions

You Are a Seeker Soul

You are on a quest for knowledge and life challenges. You love to be curious and ask a ton of questions. Since you know so much, you make for an interesting conversationalist. Mentally alert, you can outwit almost anyone (and have fun doing it!). Very introspective, you can be silently critical of others. And your quiet nature makes it difficult for people to get to know you. You see yourself as a philosopher, and you take everything philosophically. Your main talent is expressing and communicating ideas. Souls you are most compatible with: Hunter Soul and Visionary Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 9/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

... and I only took it once!

Gettin' Stuff Done, Again

So, today was just a get-things-done kind of day. It had to be, after the last two days of goofy fun! Don worked on his truck, trying to get it ready to pass inspection (he got pulled over and 'warned' last week) while KK and I went to the laundromat. This was actually very satisfying! The thing is that Don and I are both messy, procrastinating people. We always have a load of laundry in the dryer, one on the dining-room table ready for folding, folded laundry stacked on the piano (yes, nice way to treat the nicest thing I own, I know), and a load moldering in the washer, waiting to dry. The laundry has never been "finished" since we first rented the washer and dryer! Well, we finally had them cart away the rented machines and we dragged (drug?) the dryer up the stairs--a perilous process. I was terrified that Don and dryer would fall back down the stairs. But the washer is still in the garage, and the dryer needs a different plug in order to go into our wall. Hence my first trip in two years to a laundromat. There's nothing quite like coming home with stacks of clean, folded stuff ready to put away! I remember this feeling from Vermont, when Don and I would wait until every single thing in the house was dirty (we're procrastinators, remember?) and I would haul all the sheets, towels, socks, everything down. Three hours later and it was all clean, stacked percariously on the shelves that house had in lieu of a "closet". Today KK and I did our cars while the clothes dried; there's a self-serve carwash across the street from the laundromat. Now my car is shiny and vaccuumed and I have enough clothes to last the week.

We also went to the mall today and I actually bought things-- a rare occurence! Usually we just wander aimlessly, window-gazing, people-watching. The original point was to get Don's hair cut. For reasons I can't fathom, he seems to need moral support for this, because he only goes when I go with him. But there was a long wait at the hair place so we shopped. Victoria's Secret, the Limited, Express-- lots of stuff on sale and I actually had a little spending cash. I need to buy new things more often; I kept saying things like, "Look! The elastic in this underwear is stretchy! And the colors are so bright!" Now I have some new things I really needed-- underthings, pants that I don't have to squeeeeze into. All on sale and bought with cash, yes. At one place the total was 27.06. I had a 100-bill, so I gave the cashier 102.06 to make it nice and even. You would have thought that I'd asked her to perform an appendectomy or something.... seventy-five dollars back, it's not that hard. Silly me thought I was making things easier.

Previous conversation with Don:

Him: So, what is that one called?
Me, on the floor: Downward-facing Dog. It's good for the back and everything.
Him: Yeah, I could see that. . .
Me: You should try it.

Today:

Me: Good grief, doesn't that hurt your back?

Don: Nah, it's actually kind of like that Upside-down Dog thing you were showing me ...

(Yes, he is INSIDE the truck hood... it looks like it's trying to eat him...)

The Long Way 'Round

Don and I wanted to go to the Arboretum today. And we did go, after a bit. But neither of us knew where it was. He thought maybe it was down by Fair Park, east of the city, so we drove down in that direction, and went all around Fair Park, touring some of Dallas' ickier areas. I thought, maybe it's near the zoo! Which is somewhere near Oak Cliff-- I remember passing it during my job training down there. The Arboretum is not in Oak Cliff. We have driven forever at this point, and somehow we end up in Las Colinas, which is where Don works. Here we stop and buy a Mapsco and find that the Arboretum is.... right on White Rock Lake. Which is so much closer to where we live than anywhere else we've been today. We ended up driving in huge looping circles around the greater Dallas area, almost 80 miles total, to get to White Rock Lake. Crazy, I know.

But the Arboretum was fun! We wandered all around the paths, making wedding plans (by 'making wedding plans' I mean this of course:

Me: "what if we blah blah blah? We could blah! And blah! !"
Don: "OK! Sounds good! Whatever!"

repeat.....)

We played in the fountain, made out in the more secluded areas, did all the stupid things that we're old enough to know better but do anyways. All and all it was a nice day, and now he's grilling dinner. Hamburgers and hotdogs, of course, for Memorial Day weekend. Tater salad. I'm going to see if it's almost done yet.

Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping

Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle-jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.

Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle-jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.

Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle-jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Though you might hear laughin', spinnin' swingin' madly across the sun
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seein' that he's chasing.

Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle-jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

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I guess everybody has those few songs that they can listen to over and over again, that evoke the same emotional response every time and never get stale or overplayed. This is one of those songs for me. But I wonder how legitimate a connection to a song can be if a song is about one thing to the singer, whether a drug trip or a road trip, a breakup or a death or the Pied Piper; but about something vaguely different to the listener. Can I truly relate to my favorite song if it's about LSD (say some) or a drug deal (say others) without having experienced either? Does the greater theme of loneliness and escape widen the song so that the literal interpretation isn't relevant? Or, does it matter at all? We've all wished for something that would make us forget about today until tomorrow, to take us far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow, to let us dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free with all those cares forgotten, at least until morning...

The depth and darkness of Dylan's imagery is so strong. Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves/ The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach...
It seems incongruous that he recorded it the same year as the Beach Boy's "California Girls" and Sonny and Cher's infamous "I Got You Babe". I think he was on a different page, somewhat. Did they separate music into genres on the radio back then like they do now, with alternative rock here and pop there, or was it all mixed together? Would someone who loved the Monkees suddenly be subjected to the Beatles' Rubber Soul workings? I'll have to ask my dad sometime. Sometimes it seems like that's their most-ignored album, and it's my favorite. You can always hear earlier stuff on the golden oldies station ('I Wanna Hold Your Hand'; 'Hard Day's Night') and later stuff makes it on to the classic rock stations a lot, but you can't hear 'Norwegian Wood' or 'You Won't See Me' unless you own it. The whole record is like a transition piece. But this was supposed to be about Dylan, remember, Mara? Not about the Beatles. Even if he did influence them a bit then.

It's been a weird long week, staying at my parent's house, away from my own little family here. I'm glad to be back but my sleep cycle is all screwed up and it's one in the morning so I'm writing and listening to my best of Dylan CD for the third time through instead of walking Alice and going to bed. Maybe tomorrow I can write with something approaching coherency.

****Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind******

Gas prices are up! (Yay!)

So at work today I had to listen to some customer bitch and moan about gas prices, about how they're going to hit 5 a gallon, etc, etc, etc. Everyone seems to have this attitude that if situations change in any way from the way things are now, that it's a BAD THING. CHANGE IS BAD. The funny thing is, what's so great about the way things are now? As a country we're overweight, overworked, overstressed, and we spend more than an hour a day (average) commuting to and from work. What would happen if gas got so expensive that we couldn't afford to buy it willy-nilly anymore? Maybe we would have to walk some places instead. Maybe, as a country, we could shed a few pounds from the walking and lose the embarrasing moniker of "world's fattest country." Maybe walking more and losing weight would relieve some of that stress, the stress that creates everything from heatburn/ulcers, to back pain, to heart issues, to . . . weight gain. Especially if, say, we were commuting less; after all those 50/60/80 hour weeks are only compounded by the hellish drive to and fro. Cars are expensive and require insurance, maintenance and fuel. If some of us let them go entirely, a major expense would dissapear from our debit columns. We could work a little less or (more likely) spend the money on something funner, or even reverse the negative-savings trend that keeps people from falling asleep at night. If enough of us could stop driving, maybe we could reduce the smoggy pollution that is destroying the environment, the ozone layer, and our health.

I know what you're thinking... you're thinking, "There's no way in hell I could walk to work, or to anywhere else for that matter! My work is 20 miles away! There's nothing around my house for miles exept other houses... no corner stores, restaurants, libraries or post offices are within walking distance from my home."

Ever since the end of World War II (that's the second one), our cities have been designed on the principle that families have cars, can afford houses, and would prefer to live in the suburbs. Unfortunately this has not proved paticularly true; it just served to separate the haves and have-not-quite-yets by miles instead of blocks. As for the happiness, the suburbs created in one short decade that whole "feminine ennui" thing that's kept women's study authors and novelists busy for decades (you know, when they discovered that there is more to fufillment than a new washer-dryer combo and self-defrosting fridge), and... the teenager, that creature of the suburbs filled with angst and rage and boredom. Lack of true community= major disenchantment. Sleeper cities are no more community than my apartment complex is... we all drive away in the morning, and come home to walk our dogs and sleep. I'm actually convinced that anyone who really likes the suburbs just hasn't had the opportunity to live many other places.

What if, due to the unavailability of fuel, we had to start redesigning our habitats so that we lived and worked in tandem, so that work wasn't more than a short distance from home? This is more possible than ever due to the fact that our jobs are more and more "white collar"; living near office buildings and retail shops is a bit more desireable than, say, a smelting plant. Trust me; my mom grew up right next to some smelting plants. Or something like that. They belched black smoke and looked like something out of Ferngully-- the bad bits. When I get to visit the old, nasty parts of Detroit I totally understand why the suburbs were invented in the first place. But the majority of us don't smelt. It's not like this would require major legislation; people move to places--and take jobs-- in places they'd like to live. A company has an easier time staffing if it locates in an area with a good cost of living, a great climate, lifestyle accoutrements (nightlife, skiing, museums, whatever); an easy, walkable or bikeable commute could become just one more desireable asset to a community.

It's not that cars are evil, or that we shouldn't ever drive anywhere. This is, after all, a country just asking to be explored by vehicle. But maybe a change in the way we live wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. It would certainly be better than scrambling to maintain the status quo: going to war for oil so that we can each drive an SUV, drain our final reserves (destroying everything from fragile tundra to fragile wetlands) so that macho guys can drive their pick-up trucks (just to work and back, they wouldn't want to get the truck-bed dirty), and subsidizing fuel so that every family with one or two kids can maintain their fleet of minivans. All that just to maintain our status as overweight stessed out overworked unhealthy Americans with video players in the back seat.

Doggy Rant

Why is it that some people get dogs, anyways? I just don't get it. I mean, you're introducing a completely different species into your life, with specific needs and abilities. Dogs take effort, work, understanding, and patience. To be a good dog owner you really need to understand dogs, maybe do a little research, to know where they are coming from, so to speak. Unlike having kids, getting a dog is a completely conscious choice, a decision to add a household member that can easily be with you 12 years or longer. I have a co-worker who just got a puppy, a really cute little thing, half Shi-tzu half Maltese or something. She's always saying things like, "if this dog makes my house smell like 'dog', it's outta here!" or "I'm getting rid of this dog if she doesn't stop pooping in my bedroom!" I try to point out that the dog is only 8 weeks old and requires training to not poop wherever, and that if she didn't want dog smell maybe it wasn't such a good idea to get one in the first place... I mean, come on. It would be so typical that someone would spend 200 bucks on a little puppy and take it to the pound a month later, because it turned out that it was, gasp, a dog. On our Long Trek this morning Alice and I ran into a middle-aged woman with a black dog, whom she kept as far from us as possible; not enough to keep it from snarling and growling at mine. Hello, dogs require socialization; they need to learn to get along with other dogs. (And people, children, cats, et cetera.) It's completely irresponsible to have a dog that's so unsocialized, and it's not fair to the dog, who shouldn't have to go through life that way. Alice was like that when we first got her (probably because she's from the shelter) but she got over it, because we were always taking her places where she could interact with dogs nicely, dog parks and such. Shying away from all contact with other dogs only reinforces your pet's behavior, and yes, lady, that was aggression, not fear. Every bookstore has a long shelf of books dedicated to living with dogs, training dogs, understanding dogs... obviously these writers and those that read them realize that there's more to having a dog than just bringing it home with you. Too bad they're not required reading...

Hi, My name is Mara and I'm a coffee adict.

Yeah, so I do have a kidney infection, blech. It seems to be behaving, though, and I'm taking my meds like a good girl, so it will all be okay. Still getting used to my new manager at work. He doesn't involve himself so much in what we're doing as the other one did, which is nice. He just lets us get on with it. This is my sixth day with no coffee. It's rough but I slept like a log last night. I don't know if it's just because I was really tired and we went to bed early (10:30), or if it was because Don is sleeping in the living room for his back, or the fact that there's no caffeine in my system, but it was great. I've got to go to work now, yay.

Fightin' with my innards

Ugh, not writing all week because I thought that if I waited, I wouldn't have to write about this draining urinary-tract infection thing I've got going on here. Soooo awful, and for a whole week now. I feel *almost* better except, now my kidneys hurt. I think it's my kidneys, anyways; twin painful spots up in my back. I'm drinking so much water that I pee clear. I've gone cold-turkey on the coffee. I've drunk 3/4 gallon of cranberry juice in the last 3 days-- the really strong kind. Whatever it takes not to have to go to the doctor. All they ever do is prescibe antibiotics, and antibiotics really mess me up. I always end up with more stuff wrong with me than there was before-- yeast infections, the works-- which of course require various treatments. A vicious cycle. I had to take some in January for a nasty throat infection, but that was the first time in maybe 2 years or so. This kidney part is worrying me, though; I've never felt like this before. I hope I don't have kidney stones or something. I think I'm going to visit one of those medical websites now.

Funny moment from Don this weekend:

"So I was walking the dog and thinking about that song, "One-eyed, one-horned, flying, purple people eater", and I realized that must be why there are no longer any purple people, because they were the only kind of people that this monster would eat. Which also explains why the monster itself went extinct-- it demolished its foodsource and couldn't adapt to normal-colored humans instead."

(insert dazed stare from Mara here, then a much-too-long discussion about whether the monster itself is purple or eats purple people, the concept of "made up, not real", and the importance of placing modifyers in the right places ...) Well, at least on one level he understands the concepts of environmental sustainability, k-curves, etc. One of my environmental-studies professors once commented that E.S. is something most little kids understand intuitively but adults have to re-learn. It makes sense, in a way. I'm afraid my stream-of-consciousness-conversation style has had an effect on Don over the years.

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Okay, according to WebMD, I need to go to the doctor, afterall; infection may be in kidneys not just in urinary tract. Damn. I guess I'll stock up on the yogurt to take with the cranberry juice....

Quiz

You Are 20% Evil

You are good. So good, that you make evil people squirm. Just remember, you may need to turn to the dark side to get what you want!

How Evil Are You?

Screw all that jazz!

I've come about face and decided that I'm not going to hide my blog from anyone, anymore. That was a gut reaction, an instictive response to an invasion of privacy; I've reconsidered now. Do you want to read my blog? Then welcome! Enjoy! It's in the public domain and I'm not sheltering it. When I first started this journal, I grappled a little with how much to say, how honest to be. My inner writer and inner editor were at odds until I finally decided that full disclosure was the way to go. I got shaken up again with everything that happened last week, and couldn't post freely-- I wanted to censor myself again-- what if this gets read by the wrong people? It's why I didn't write for a week; I was going through something very personal and didn't want to put it "out there". Well, screw all that! It's behind me now--I'm over it.

My period was a week late, last week. A whole week, even starting on "day 31". It was just enough time to get worried, freak out, and . . . get really exited. Enough time to start conjecturing due dates, daydream about a warm little bundle in a sling. So, getting my period really sucked. The universe's way of saying "nyah nyah nyah," I guess. It's not like we were *trying*, of course, but still...brought me crashing back to earth. It really made me realize how much I want to "start a family", which sounds too sterile to describe what I really want; something warmer, gooeyer, more complicated. It feels like an illicit desire, even though I'm 25 now, not 17 or something. Wanting kids just doesn't seem "done" by my age-group, unless in the context of "down the road someday." I think I'm gonna have to put the pressure on Don full-strength, haha, because who is ever financially 'ready'? If having babies had ever depended on male 'readiness', this species would have died right out. "Not this year, darling, we really just don't have enough mammoth jerky stored up yet, and this cave is too small, we'd have to move, and who knows what next year's hunting is going to be like..."

I'm so ready to move away from Dallas. It was supposed to be a temporary stop, just a couple of years, but it's starting to feel as though if we don't get out soon we'll settle here forever. Don is looking for a promotion this year or he'll start looking outside his company; I'm always at this website http://bestplaces.net/ that lets you compare all these statistics about various places to live. So you can figure that where we live in North Dallas area has a cost of living of 94.1 (of the national average) while, Seattle, Washington's CoL is 145.6 with a median house cost of $459,800 (good grief); but that Seattle votes Democrat (yay!) and has a climatic "comfort index" of 72 compared to our 25. (higher is better). Repeat this for every locale that sounds interesting; North Carolina, New Mexico, Colorado, back to Vermont (I wish). I promised Don after the last time that we'd never move again without having jobs lined up in advance-- those months of unemployment were hell on the savings, not to mention the relationship. The poor guy has up and shipped across country twice now on my account, jumping in head-first. This time the ball's in his court; we won't go anywhere until he has a position there. The only hard part will be leaving my family, again.

Just a Quickie

Yeah sorry for that long silence. It's been a weird week at work, because my manager is leaving, and at home, because Don's boss is on vacation which equals tons of extra work for him. (Yes, I finally tired of calling him "D" all the time. Who cares, anyways?) I have mixed feelings about my boss taking off. On the one hand, she was a good manager and I really like her, but she's moving on to bigger and better things. I'm not scared of change in general, and it might be nice to work under someone new. Wait and see, I guess. I brought a cake for the good-bye party but it came out kinda weird. The icing ran down the sides and pooled under the cake instead of staying on top. Tasted ok though.

Poor Don is so exhausted he went to bed around 8:30 tonight. I got coffee with KK and we came back here and chilled out for awhile, which was nice. I haven't seen that much of her lately and hardly at all just for the heck of it-- usually just dog-drop-off and pick-up.

Tomorrow I will post longer when Don's at work, because it's bedtime now.