Your Personality Is Like Alcohol

You're the life of the party, a total flirt, and probably a pretty big jokester. Sometimes your behavior gets you in trouble, but you still remain socially acceptable. You're a pretty bad driver, and you're dancing could also use a little work!

What Drug Is Your Personality Like?

Tripping

Back from Chicago. What a trip. Chicago is an amazing city; I wish I'd had another week there. Everything we tried to do--a few hours here, a few hours there--I wanted to spend a day just exploring. The Oak Park neighborhood, filled with beautiful old Victorian houses, bungalows, and the first Frank Lloyd Wright homes; the Magnificent Mile, which would inspire even me to shop and shop; the Art Institute. So much stuff happened in one weekend that it's all in bits and pieces now in my mind and I can't comprehend it all.

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We flew out the day after that foiled-terrorist-plot thing that raised all the Terrorist Levels or whatever to Orange. Everything went really smoothly as far as that went though. Except that my mom thought that my luggage was her gym bag (they're identical ugly green duffel bags) and tried to put it back in the car, thinking that Dad had grabbed it out of the bedroom by mistake or something... I panicked: that's all my stuff, what are you doing? That's my bag! Solution: I'm getting a smart carry-on bag for my holiday present, one of those square-ish rolley ones, like everyone else in my family (and the airport) seems to have.

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Driving in Chicago is CRAZY. They don't use 'lanes' the way that we do--driving straight forward in one lane or moving to another lane to drive in that lane. They just act as though there are no lines whatsoever painted on the road. And they take the attitude that to signal turns is to let the enemy know your plan. Downtown there are hoards and hoards of pedestrians and cyclists, it looks like Manhattan. They just surge into the street randomly, brazenly, knowing that no motorist would mow down 20 walkers at once.

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The Jeep Liberty wins the coveted Worst SUV Ever award. I mean the only good thing about SUVs is the space, right? Luggage space and leg-room? It has none. Our luggage barely fit; backpacks and things had to be carried on laps. Backseat as cramped as my Chevy Cavalier-- a compact car. (Luckily as the Chief Navigator I rode shotgun most of the trip.) On top of that the thing had the child-safety locks set on the back doors, so nobody could get out of the back seat until somebody came around and opened the door from the outside. This went on for a day and a half, until we figured out how to unset that feature.

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Spending 86 million consecutive hours with my family makes me crazy. Crazy. We do better with moderation, not with flying together, eating together,

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Under the right circumstances and with enough wine, my family will dance. With each other. In public. I'm scared to see the wedding videos.

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If my entire family has entered an art museum and I wander away to contemplate some paintings in silence, my mom will call my cellphone to ask if I'm okay. Where am I? Did I get lost? Spending more than 1 day with us makes her forget that KK and I are 23 and 25, not 3 and 5. I guess it's sweet really.

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We barely made it onto the plane back in time. You know what I said about the Jeep Liberty? It goes double for Thrifty rental car company--don't use them if you can help it. When you live in Dallas, it's easy to forget what a great airport we have. Clean, modern, well-laid out. Up-to-date systems, efficient equipment. We just take it for granted until dealing with some old crumbling structure filled with catatonic personnel. Like, I don't know, Chicago O'Hare?

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

I got in trouble with Mom for stopping to talk to the handler of one of the bomb-sniffing dogs. But it was the most beautiful German Shepherd--long haired-- and they were still putting their shoes back on...

The handlers are actually the dogs' owners; they take them home at night and spend all day and night with them. Like pets, but pets that deter drug traffickers and terrorists.

A Few Pictures

that Don took on his interview trip. This is apparently this wall downtown where people can write things in chalk.

A really nice tree for rent. Seems to come with a house behind it.

Shots of the "downtown" area.

Don got the job. We're moving.






Aaaaack.

Shopping Victory (or, Plundering the Village)

I have shopped, and I am triumphant. Hear me roar about my shoes and miscellany, for in 2 and 1/2 hours I have bought it all, with no snags or dilemmas. I have pushed through crowds, pawed through jeans, and have waged war with one of those shopping carts that constantly tries to turn right. Purchased: 2 pairs of high-heeled shoes; one black and semi-casual, one bronzy metallic fancy, for the wedding and its dress rehearsal. They go with the dresses. They will let me tower over my brother one last time before he grows so tall that even high heels won't tip the scales. Purchased: 2 pairs of jeans, 2 t-shirts, and 1 terry hoodie jacket at Old Navy, because it's right next door to DSW and I felt ambitious after the shoes, and because my wardrobe has been quietly falling to pieces in the last year. Purchased: 70 dollars worth of miscellaneous stuff at Target, including but not limited to mascara, eye-makeup, 2 nail polishes, toiletry bag, cute little travel-sized thingies, and an eye-lash curler, because I lost mine somehow.

Excerpts:

1. I love Old Navy. I know it's cheap, bourgeois, and filled with teenagers and soccer moms, but I don't care. It's great for someone like me who has no money and little interest in clothing, but can't wander around naked and therefore needs somewhere to buy clothing.

2. I am "long waisted", which means that upon inspection my torso is weirdly long and my legs are short. This means that I look really weird in low-waisted pants, and in high-waisted pants. But Old Navy has something they call 'just below waist' that makes me look half-way in balance.

3. To Girls in Dressing Rooms Everywhere: the dress-size you are is not the one you can squeeeeeze yourself into, but the one that fits you the best. Nobody but you and your mom need to know what number is printed on the tag, you can even cut it off. But everybody will notice the bits and rolls of you that hang out of too-small clothing because you refuse to admit that maybe you're more of a 12 than an 8. Squeezed flesh never looks good.

4. For the first time ever I will not be travelling with all my toiletries in a Ziploc baggie. I feel very adult, having a toiletry bag, with little plastic bottles to fill with shampoo and conditioner, and a little holder for a bar of soap.

Don says that I would ABSOLUTELY LOVE Charlottesville. He pointed out numerous distinctions, including college kids with dreadlocks; anti-Bush signage; a lack of groomed front yards and a surplus of messy gardens; downtown cafes that provide water-bowls for dogs; street musicians; a lone anti-war demonstrator wearing a sandwich board; the availability of Magic Hat beer (a Vermont thing); numerous coffee shops that aren't Starbucks; a gelato place; a lack of people yabbering on cell-phones; the fact that he could wander around for 4 hours on foot. Among other things.

What can I say, he and I have unusual parameters for judging a place. I hope he gets the job. I hope he takes the job if they offer it. I'm still scared shitless.

Ramble

Don's in Virginia now, to be interviewed this weekend. It's entirely possible that we will actually move, which is weird to me. One funny thing is that he's not necessarily going to take the job if it's offered; the pay has to be right, and the company has to pay for relocation etc. Funny, because I've never been in a position to negotiate during a job interview: it's always me really needing a position and the interviewers asking me questions. I've never looked for a better job while already having a really good one.

So he's gone for the weekend, and next weekend I'm in Chicago, and if we move then he'll be there for a long time before me. A lot of separation happening here.

Work went well probably because I got some sleep last night, finally. Thank you, makers of the beloved Benedryll that makes people sleep and fixes their allergies all at once. We have a new assistant manager-in-training from California, who complimented us on our ability to get out the door after closing. About 2:30 we all sort of wake up and start getting stuff done so that we'll leave at 3, right after we lock the doors-- who doesn't have the motivation to leave as early as possible on Saturday afternoon? Her comment surprised me.

I need to buy some shoes and stuff for the wedding but I'm terrified of Tax-Free weekend shopping. I may put it off until Wednesday, but then what if I don't find anything? Ack help. Why wasn't I born with the ubiquitous female shopping gene that makes women actually enjoy things like shoe-shopping? It seems to be missing!

Couch Monster and the sleep deprivation

It turns out that Don and I have a Couch Monster. It goes with our Laundry Fairy and the Kitchen Gremlin, I guess. The Couch Monster is responsible for that phenomenon in which somebody stays on the couch to read/ watch TV/ be online/ watch a movie/ play a video game/ whatever instead of dragging his/her rear off to bed, so that instead of turning in at a responsible, healthy 10:00 or 10:30 one finds oneself still goofing about at midnight or later, missing the valuable sleep that will make the next day productive or even liveable. Bad Couch Monster, it got me good last night.

So I didn't get enough sleep and did really stupid things all day, like this: Went through the Starbucks drive-thru on the way to work. Paid in cash, got my change, drove away. Got about 3/4 of the way to work and reached for my caffeine at a red light only to discover that it's not there. I actually drove away before they handed me my drink... I had to turn around and drive back to get it, where they were all laughing at me, which made me late for work. The alternative--going without coffee on 5 hours of sleep-- was unthinkable. The worst part was that when I realized the coffee wasn't in my cup holder I kept looking for it, like maybe I set it on the back seat or the dashboard or something. And all that was before 7 in the morning... my day was stupid.

Don and I have agreed to rescue each other from the Couch Monster and drag the victim to bed regardless of protestation, to prevent days like this.

Went to dinner with my family at this cool Japanese place where they prepare the food right in front of you with much flamboyance. It was fun. We also stopped by Borders on the way home (a natural activity for my family) and I got to talk to Ben for a bit which was something of a relief--I'd felt lately like he'd been mad at me, or avoiding me or something. Apparently not the case, though, thankfully. I found him pinned in the music department by my Dad, who asks arcane, complicated questions about classical music and doesn't understand why they can't unwrap a CD for him to listen to in the store and decide on later. Poor Ben.

Common Ground

Seen on the back of a car on my commute home:

Frodo Failed: Bush Has the Ring

And, the decal for the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

It was a Honda Civic, of course.

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The link to my essay at Leaky Lounge:

http://www.the-leaky-cauldron.org/#scribbulus:issues

Hint: it's the one about Quidditch

Too much hips.

Update time again. Don's job interview was pushed back to this coming weekend; all Virginia-stuff is suspended in time until then. Which is ok because it felt like things were moving way too fast, snowballing out of control. I needed a chance to catch my breath and think-- this week's delay is helping with that. We broke the news to my parents, so that's off my chest a little. Except that my mom made her 'sad face' for a long time, and went very quiet. So now the single biggest worry is Breaking the Lease. Anybody looking for an apartment 1B, 1bth, 1-car garage, fp? We had a huge fight late last week over everything in our lives; work, housekeeping, sex, money, the dishes, drink, smoking, pork chops. We don't fight often so when we do it's awful, and it left me all raw and bruised (edit: emotionally, not physically) which is why I haven't posted in a bit. But, we made up and worked a few things out, so it's all okay, basically. The stress of this possible transfer brings up all kinds of issues.

Spent all day Saturday dress-shopping with my mom, which is a whole different kind of exhausting. I tried on approximately 80 million dresses in the same style-- those elegant, column-style long dresses--that all made my hips look ridiculous before acknowledging that someone with my figure apparently looks better in a flared skirt. Pooh. We're all going to Chicago weekend after next for our cousin's wedding. Now all I need is two pairs of shoes, and a ton of other stuff. Ah well.

Who knew?

What\who were you in your previous life? (Many outcomes and pics)

Congratulations, you're an old soul! You've lived so many times, that you have experienced much more than the rest of us. It's not certain what you were in your last life, but you have probably lived a life of them all. In your present life, you are wise and knowledgeable, very creative, and attract people to your shining soul. Enjoy this life, who knows what wonderous place you'll go to when it's ended.
Take this quiz!








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Worries and more worries

Well. I'm feeling a good bit better, but not 100% yet. This seems to be one of those 24-hour type viruses or something... I'm glad today is my day off so that I can take it a little easy. Alice is at the vet's to have the lump investigated. Have I mentioned the lump yet? (scrolls to check) I guess not. On Friday Don found this big lump on her neck, just below the jaw on the left side. I don't know what it is-- cyst, tumor, something. We couldn't get an appt for Saturday so today she's having a comprehensive physical, all of her shots, and a lump-checking-out. They made me leave her there instead of staying with her, something I've never done before. I hope she's ok because in 5 years she's never been to the vet all by herself... she looked happy going in, though.

Don's phone-interview went really well and they're flying him to Virginia this weekend to interview in person. This is getting serious, they wouldn't spend $1100 transporting his butt over there if they weren't reasonably certain of offering him the job. They said on the phone that his ability to do the job is beyond dispute and the only thing they're worried about is relocating-- whether he'll be happy in such a small town after Dallas, the fact that he's (essentially) married, etc. Also, that he won't stick to the job for as long as they'd like but treat it as yet another stepping stone, which is a very valid concern on their part. Anyone looking at Don's resume could see the pattern of advancement every 2-3 years; they asked him to commit to at least three years if he gets the position, which makes me happy as well-- I don't want to get settled in Virginia only to hop up and leave again. Three years is better than two, and could easily lead to 4 or 5.

The hardest next step will be telling Mom and Dad that we may (probably!) be moving out of state again. This is going to be a little painful and I'm not looking foward to it, especially given the rate that things are happening. I've arranged to have dinner over there tonight, which is unusual. They probably think that we're preggers or something like that.

Things I'm worried about the most.

1. Telling my parents, their reaction, etc.
2. Breaking our lease, especially considering that it's cosigned by the above. Can't do anything that will mess with their credit scores, but there's no way I can pay the rent through February when we're paying in Virginia, too. As soon as I know for certain, I'll have to sit down with the leasing office folks and work something out.
3. Transferring at work. There are only 5 or so branches in C-ville, compared to dozens and dozens in the Metroplex area. To even get a job I might have to cut to part-time and get a second job which would suck. And I really want to stay with the bank-- I'll have been there 2 years in November and don't want to have any more 2-year stints on my resume. Just once I'd like to stay at one company long enough to reap the benefits, instead of starting over as a new employee somewhere.
4. The vacations for this autumn that we have already lined up. We're flying from Dallas to Boston in October-- are we going to have to fly or drive back here to get that flight? I can't change the tickets. In December we're going with my family to Big Bend State Park in west Texas-- is it going to be hard to work that around a new branch at the bank and Don's new job? To drive from Virginia back to Dallas and then from Dallas out West will be more exhausting than restful. But to fly will cost too much I think.
5. Not knowing anybody and becoming a total recluse that cries every day. You know, like the *last* time we left the state.

"Thank you, God, for letting me not barf in my car."

Arrrrgh. There seems to be a terrible stomach virus thingy going around work, both mine and Dons. I felt kind of okay when I got up-- terrible period pains but nothing else-- but by the time I got to work I was shaking, weak, and barfy. They sent me home, wisely. But this thing comes on fast and that drive home was the worst. I kept feeling ralphy and was going, "please God don't let me barf in my car..." when all of a sudden that Other Rumble starts and I change gears to "No wait, please don't let me crap my car, three more miles, please..."
Which I didn't. I've never been so happy to see my own commode, ever. If there is a god, she must be annoyed with me for only applying in times of trouble, but then all moms deal with that phenomenon, I guess. But after too much Advil, a long hot bath (for the cramps that did not have the grace to go away and let me deal with one thing at a time) and a long nap I feel almost human again, enough to brave the internet anyways. (I saw my face in the mirror at work and it was scary--my skin looked grey and my eyes looked yellow, like something out of Star Trek. Right now it's returned to normal colors.) Because Don was sick last night we went to bed really early, so I'm all sleeped out at the moment.

He's doing a phone-interview with the Virginia people today. I don't know if that's a precurser to an in-person interview or a substitute for it. I looked up some more things about Charlottesville online and discovered that there is NOT a Borders there. What... am I going to do with myself? Here Don was telling me that I should get another part-time job there to stem the moving-depression: "There are always people you like, in Borders bookstores. People like you. Weird people." is his theory. Not a false theory, really. (Sorry Ben and company!)

He's worried because when we moved to Vermont, I was plagued by a pretty bad depression the first 6 months or so. He keeps saying that he doesn't want to see that, again. But there were other factors in play, too, besides moving: my parents' house had just burned down a few weeks before I left, which was traumatic, two months later was September 11... hell I think the whole country got a little sad over that. I couldn't find work at first and didn't have a job at all the whole first semester, and was very isolated by not knowing anyone there but him. Not to mention that it was my first time away from home, and I missed my friends and family terribly. Things will be different this time. On the bright side, his dealing with me when I was in that state speaks volumes for his character: kind, supportive, strong. Not too many relationships are tested like that right off the bat; we'd only been dating maybe 8 months when he decided to come to Vermont with me. He left his job, packed his stuff and trekked across the country to a completely new place only to find his girfriend replaced by a new version: crying, blue, moody, raging. Poor guy.

Ack

It looks like Don is actually going to be interviewing in Virginia, or at least it's being discussed. This is way too "real" for me right now... I'm starting to feel totally freaked out. One of my co-workers said that I was very brave, to consider packing up and moving across the country, to somewhere I've never been and where I don't know a soul. I'm not brave, I'm terrified! But, what can I do. It's not like we want to spend forever here in Dallas (who would?) so... leave we must. Even though that means leaving all the family and friends that I have. Again. The bit about it that's bad is that Don is suggesting that even if we move it will only be for a couple of years, before doing it again. I don't like that idea; if we go somewhere else I wanted to put down a few roots and stay awhile. I wasn't raised an Army brat like him, moving every 2 years! I'm starting to realize that he is much more ambitious than I ever realized... he doesn't ever talk big but makes plans and slowly, steadily works his way towards them. All actions, not words: I'm more of a wordy person. Which probably explains why I have a blog and he doesn't! His ambition to go from being an Assistant Director (which he is now) to a Director at a small hotel (Virginia) to a larger hotel (the next move) to a corporate-level position doesn't fit that well with my idea of staying in one place for a while as we start our family, but it does dovetail with my (very expensive) dreams of a large family, a house to put them in, etc. He and I have pretty much always each paid our own way in the 6 years we've been together, but getting married and having kids would change that dynamic and it's interesting to find out, after all this time, that he is more the "provider" type (with his corporate ambitions etc) than I ever realized. And here I was thinking he was just a workaholic... he never framed it as a means to an end...

Heat. Quilts. Babies.

ARRRRgh. It got to be 107 degrees yesterday. 107! That's crazy. The bank lost its air conditioning and we were without air all afternoon. There are no words to describe how much this sucked so I won't bother trying... I didn't get any sleep last night, had to open at work this morning, and wandered around in a haze all day. The AC in the apartment is going, too: it has been getting steadily worse for days now, maybe a freon leak or something like that. Don knows what it is but I was too hot and irritated to listen.

Anyways, enough bitching about the usual Dallas culprit! Last week I had a great idea for a quilt, it just appeared in my mind from nowhere (idea-fairy being generous again), all blues, greens, turquoises...lots of batiks and tone-on-tone prints, nothing cutesy or calico. I bought fabric so that I can get this idea rolling while it's still fresh in my mind, I hate it when the visions fade and you're left with wads of materials and a pencil sketch. I just need to wash the stuff, and to obtain some kind of chair so that I can use my sewing machine on the table and not on the floor.

I went to a baby shower on Sunday and there were actually babies in attendance, including this one baby boy who wasn't even six weeks old yet. Is there anything more wonderful than teeny tiny perfect little babies? I got to hold him for a long time while his mom ate, which was awesome, (in the original sense). Like a drug... how could anything be wrong when there are perfect little babies in existence? I had this great idea that there should be places you can go and hold babies any time for a little while to get that teeny-tiny-baby-fix, sort of like Meth clinics for heroin addicts. Don didn't think it was such a hot idea. He actually compared me to the Fat Bastard guy... all "Get in my BELLY!!" which I didn't really appreciate. But I guess he didn't appreciate me coming home from the shower all "forget our plan, I want a baby RIGHT NOW! This INSTANT! BABYBabybabybabybaby!"

Stupid, stupid, stupid

Hmmm. No news on moving-to-Virginia yet. It's all very conjectural at this point. I had an utterly stupid day at work. Got called in 45 minutes early which isn't much except that I was supposed to be there at 7:45a.m. and they needed me at 7:00 instead so they called around 5. In the morning. And due to understandable miscommunications--because it was blippin' 5 in the morning-- I got called like 3 different times, the last time during that precious last-15-minutes-before-the-alarm sleep. Then I did a million transactions really fast, because one of the people working with me is like a turtle to whom everything is new even though she's been with us for 3 months now-- if I hear "Well, I never saw that before/ nobody told me that before/I've only done this 98 times so I don't remember it yet/etc" I'm going to scream, YOU'RE NOT IN TRAINING ANYMORE! FIGURE IT OUT! and scare her to death. And because I was going too fast for me, I was almost "over" $360.05-- that's having more money than you're supposed to, which is basically as bad as being short. Then we finally find the problem, just before 5:00 and it was because I made the STUPIDEST MISTAKE EVER that not even someone in training would do, which was taking 82 20-dollar bills and wrapping a strap around them, which labels it "$2,000". The funny thing is that a lot of people--even my boss--were trying to help me and none of them noticed it, either.

I think this co-worker frustrates me because our attitudes are just totally different. She basically has to be told everything and has to do it 100 times before she's comfortable with it. I'm more 'I-can-figure-this-out-on-my-own'; I'm at least willing to try before asking for help. Like doing tax payments: it's not something we do very often but it's not hard either. The first time I saw one I just worked through it.... hmm, it's a payment of some kind, go to the payment screen, it must be this one 'cuz it's not any of those others... this must be the account number, and so on. I live by the philosophy that it's better to fix a few mistakes later than to constantly require babysitting, plus we have the easiest software, it's basically multiple-choice. But...she's like 38 and is not going to suddenly adopt an adventurous attitude towards work at this stage. She'd be perfect in a factory, actually, very good at doing the same few things over and over but completely unable to deal with something new or different.

So I ended up going to work at 7 and being there till 5, which is kinda draining. But I bought stuff to make chicken nachos for dinner, which sounds good to me...I'm going to try and sort of fajita-up some of that pre-cooked rotisserie chicken you can get in the deli section and use that instead of actually cooking chicken which sounded exhausting at this point. If it doesn't work there's lots of chicken and we can just eat it as is.

As Minerva McGonagall, your strict facade is complimented by a warm heart, and you always do what is for the greater good.


http://www.theharrypotterquiz.com

Siriusly, if we have to move there would be worse places to go than this....

Charlottesville?

There's a medium chance that Don and I will be moving to Charlottesville, Virginia at some point in the future. He's applying today for a transfer/promotion to the hotel there. I always bitch and moan about Dallas and how much we want to leave, but then I get terrified at the idea of starting all over again somewhere new! That's human nature for you...

Our major shared goal for the year was for him to be promoted to somewhere better than here... Texas was always meant to be a pit-stop on our life's trek, not a destination. VA sounds wonderful on paper: green and leafy, college town, historical stuff, small-town-ish, good climate. There are mountains, rivers, Democrats... everything that makes life more liveable. There are several branches of my bank there, too, so transferring shouldn't be too difficult. My parents won't be thrilled about it, of course. They love having us 5 minutes away and over for dinner every week, but we can't stay here forever just for that, can we? Don has no intention of being an assistant-director forever, he's ready to move into a director position, something that will challege him a bit.

Of course what's really scary, paradoxically, is the idea that the next move is a semi-permanent one; our destination for the time being where we will put down deeper roots, maybe buy a house, start our family. Here in Texas we've been in a holding pattern; it's always "no we can't look at houses because who knows where we'll be in 2 years and I hope it's not still here!" "Etc!" So there was always this underlying panic that maybe we'd never move on; that we would stay here indefinitely, accidentally, forever waiting for something better and forgeting to forge a life here in the meanwhile. Now I might trade that "what-if-were-here-forever" panic for a new one. Life is pretty easy, in a way, when you're not planning on staying somewhere-- live in an apartment, spend your money, put the "real life" on hold, whatever "real life" means to you. (Which I always try not to do but somehow do anyways: see my blog header?) But if we make a Big Move, it would signify that it's time to get on with life as we mean to live it, which would entail some fundamental changes, which is always intimidating.

quickie

Don's back in town! Yay. Much happiness in that quarter. We went to On the Border last night for dinner which just completely sucked. We were sat next a table that had 10 adults and, no kidding, 10 kids under age 8 or so. They had it arranged so that the parents all sat at one end of the table and the rugrats had the other to themselves. It was like Chucky fucking Cheese and I wanted to dump margaritas all over the "adults" when the little brats started running all over the restaraunt screaming. Plus our service was pretty terrible. If thoughts could kill there would have been a massacre there last night. But, the food was good.

Much too busy to write now more. :)