The last moments

I have two and a half hours before I leave for the airport. I just painted my toe nails and I've begun the process of cramming things into my suitcases, realizing that despite the fact that I think I'm an amazing packer, I'm really not an amazing packer. Will it all fit? it has to fit. But I don't know that it's all going to fit...

I only semi-belong...

the longer I live in Boulder, the more I come to realize that there is a very specific type of person that belongs in Boulder and can live her long term. I share some of the same qualities as this person but not all of them. and therefore, I beginning to realize I can't be here in the long term.

case in point: it's snowing AGAIN. it's the third time this month. it's only October. and if I weren't going to Hawaii tomorrow (tomorrow!), I'd be freaking out.

people are taking this weather stuff all in stride. I am not. here's a typical conversation to illustrate what I'm talking about:

me: um, it's snowing AGAIN today...

Boulderite: I know. isn't it great!

me: um, well... um, but it's October. and it's snowing AGAIN.

Boulderite: well, that's nothing. a lot of times it snows in September. and I've even seen it snow in July...

me: um, yeah, well...

Boulderite: don't worry, the sun will be out tomorrow and it will all melt.

me: yeah, but... well... I think I'm used to a little more stability you know, in my weather... in my life... things are just so... drastic and extreme around here...

Boulderite (with stupid grin and twinkley eyes): well, welcome to Colorado!

me: yeah, um... thanks...

yes, yes. isn't everything wonderful and great? isn't every day just a gift of which we can make the best? meet new people? try crazy new sports? climb a mountain or two? no wonder I haven't bothered to change my driver's license yet.

So maybe it's possible that Casa Bonita was so wonderful that I just couldn't process it, sort of in the same was as the vapor cave? Or maybe it's that after spending the whole day in Denver (hair cut with my friend Robby who looks so much like Moby, then off to the art museum, then the wine bar where I had the most amazing pumpkin cheesecake ever) that I was just on sensory overload and thus, could process Casa Bonita?

And so It was sort of a blur. I remember playing skee ball. And then Ms. Pac Man (funny how she's still around an Mr. Pac Man isn't.) And I remember the high school cliff divers who had the most chiseled abs I've ever seen in person. And I sort of remember going through black bart's cave. But there were no monkeys in costume as the menu promised. So that was it. I didn't bring my camera but Jessica brought hers and she let me borrow it for a bit. I tried to capture the cliff diver's abs. I'll let you know how it turned out.

Super exciting, fun stuff!

Okay, okay, okay - so if it weren't awesome enough that one week from tomorrow, I'll be in Hawaii (not the disaster area part, the other parts), this Saturday, I'm supposedly* going to Casa Bonita, you know, the crazy restaurant from the infamous South Park episode. I ask you, could life be any better?

*I'm saying "supposedly" because the plan was hatched last night whilst playing board games and drinking wine.

gnomeless

Earlier this week, Pete #3 was kidnapped. Yesterday, I received a dire note from him in the mail. He said he is being treated okay but misses home and is trying to escape. Apparently, his kidnapper has placed him in the kitchen next to another figurine - a plump gentleman of Italian heritage who is constantly carrying a loaf of bread. Apparently, this guy (a.k.a. Fat Sam) is not much of a conversationalist.

Luckily, the kidnappers return address was on the envelope so organizing a rescue mission shouldn't be too hard.

But I'm thinking I need to act fast. Today, the kidnapper sent me an email about Pete #3. Apparently, he's under a lot of stress and has developed a bet wetting problem. He also refuses to take out the trash and always leaves the toilet seat up. The kidnapper also pointed me to this website, which, for at least five minutes, I found to be the best thing ever.

Yesterday I worked for about three hours in the afternoon and so now, I'm sitting here with not much to do. If anyone else is out there with not much to do, please, please, please email me. A girl can only do so much online shopping...

The dream is dead

Last week, I had this brilliant idea to start a blog called "what I did at work today." The idea was that each day, I would provide a brief synopsis of the day's activities. I thought of the idea after a coworker and I each spent a good two hours last Thursday searching the internet for pictures of animals with hats. So last Thursday's entry would have said "Spent two hours searching the internet for pictures of animals wearing hats."

Today, as I was trying to start the blog from work, I discovered that whatididatworktoday.blogpost.com is already taken (by some crazy religious group). It's a total bummer, especially since I was at a party on Thursday night and told a bunch of strangers about the website and insisted they remember to check it out. What they must think of me...

spent the weekend on the western side of the state in the towns of Silverton and Ouray. the weekend was almost overwhelmingly good; hiked around old ghost towns in the mountains, visited the grand canyon of colorado, hit the hot springs and almost passed out in the "vaporcave"...

you can check out more pics here.

Okay, so I worked for about four hours today and accomplished pretty much everything I have to do for the next few weeks. I even threw in a few extra activities and got those done too.

I've told my boss that I don't think I really have that much to do. She looked at me like I was crazy.

I somehow got myself some work with the marketing and education department and my boss said "I'm just concerned because I don't want them taking you away from you work here..." Well I'm now sitting here with my headphones on, with no music playing, staring at my screen and my boss is worried about someone taking me away from this?

So my new mantra is this "I just need to make it through ski season, I just need to make it through ski season, I just need to make it through ski season..."

What's in my muffin?

This morning, I got a blueberry muffin from Vic's, the local coffee shop. Vic's, like every other place in Boulder, does not have normal baked goods so I knew I wouldn't be getting an old-fashioned blueberry muffin. Usually, they're blueberry cornmeal or blueberry oatmeal. But this morning's muffin is blueberry + ? and I can't figure out what ? is...

Anyway, when I got up to the counter, there was a $20 on the ground. I knew it wasn't mine and like every good Boulderite, I believe in karma so I picked it up and said "um... there's a $20 bill on the ground..." and the guy at the counter said "um... maybe the woman behind you? cause she was the last in line?" I asked "woman behind me" if she had dropped some money she said, "I don't know..." then saw the $20 in my hand and said "oh yeah, probably," and took it. Hmm... I bet she's not a Boulderite. And if we have lightening later today, I bet she gets hit.

Tonight I ate ice cream and listened to Billy Collins discuss poetry with Terry Gross. One of the poems they discussed was "Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden which is so incredibly beautiful:

--

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

--

See what I mean? That's good stuff.


Then later, I made a CD for my friend Mike. I called it "Girl Power." It was a response to his CD "Music to listen to while being a guy." Also good stuff

I was just perusing the NY Times, the Style section, in fact, and I it's very "Sex in the City," but I happened to read one of the marriage profiles (you know, the really in depth ones) and so... I couldn't help but wonder, is it possible for a single person to read one of those profiles and then feel good about herself?

Yesterday, my friends and I caroused it up at the Great American Beer Festival and today, I was feeling decidedly un-good. Sorry to anyone who encountered me and/or talked to me because I definitely wasn't with it.

I don't really remember drinking that many beers so I'm thinking it was the combination of so many different kinds of beer plus the duration of the evening plus the general craziness of it all.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it...

So I had a semi-bad day today. I just woke up cranky and then it went from there. There was work stuff, which I'll have to tell you about later but which made me really, really, really want to start looking for a new job right now instead of next spring. And then, to top it all off...

On Saturday, I met KA and her roommate Eric at the Hungry Toad (this little pub down the street) for dinner and a few beers. I got there early and as I was waiting at the bar, this old guy (and I do mean old) slash bar-regular started talking to me. The guy is probably around 60 and generally, I let my guard down with guys who are that old because my dad's that old and really, you just don't think about it. Or should I say I don't think about it... the guy introduced himself to me and I guess I said something like "oh, I'm {insert full name here}" because if I hadn't given him my entire name, how else could he have looked me up in the phone book and then called and left me a message asking if I'd "like to get together for a cocktail some time."?

It's so creepy and wrong on sooooooo many levels. KA said the only thing that makes it semi-okay is that he is really as old as he is and back in the day it was acceptable slash common practice to look someone's number up in the book so maybe he doesn't know how creepy slash stalker like it is.

But still... I never gave him my number. Or wrote my name down. And I don't necessarily have an easy name to spell. So for the love of god, why do men think it's okay to do these sorts of things? Did he really think I would be interested? Especially since he was wearing some kind of funky purple track suit thing? Good god.

But really, what I'm writing to say is that after the disgusting old-guy-asking-me-out thing, on top of the bad day at work, (and the Steelers' loss yesterday) I went and played kickball. Although our team lost in the last inning, I had tons of fun and it made me forget about all of the bad stuff that happened today and that's a good thing.

It's true what they say... things really can change in the blink of an eye...

Good Buju

The other night, I went to see Buju Banton with Thomas and his random, hipster, funky-hat wearing friend Neil. There were protesters outside the theater because Buju apparently has a song with anti-gay lyrics (though how anybody could have possibly understood any of the lyrics during the show was beyond me). He wrote the song in 1993 and while the song is most definitely homophobic, is it right to protest someone for a mistake he made over ten years ago, when he was 19? I don't know. Part of me says no but part of me was definitely uncomfortable with it all. Good thing the tickets were free.

Regardless of the political angst, the show was good but I was out until 1:00 on a school night and let's face it, I'm not as young as I used to be. Also (and I think the alcohol may have had something to do with this), we stopped in a convenience store on the way home and, for some reason, I got all nostalgic about Tidal Wave gum and insisted on buying some Bubblicisous with juicy stuff in the middle. And you know what? It was gross. Totally gross. But I wonder what I would have thought about the gum thirteen years ago?

So what I'm saying here is the gum made me think that maybe we shouldn't be held accountable for the mistakes we make when we're young and naive. Cause what was a good idea last decade may not be so good today and so long as you realize that and learn and grow, it's all good (well, it's all good except for the gum. The gum is still totally gross).

Yesterday, I posted something to C.’s blog that talked about the ebb and flow of life and how it’s easier to be okay with the ebb and flow when you’re in the flow and not the ebb. This weekend, without a doubt, I was in the flow. But I feel like last night, my dreams kicked me back into the ebb. It seems like ever night for the past month (and I know for sure it’s been every night for the past few weeks), P. has been in my dreams and the less I try to think about him, the more he’s there. The dream thing is telling as to how I’m doing with it all, how much I’ve really dealt with it, and, most importantly how much I have (or really, have not) moved on.

But last night, I dreamt about P. and my job and that’s just a horrible combination. However, the two are interconnected so it makes sense. So basically, I hate my job and I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how I ended up here, at this job I don’t like, in the middle of nowhere and the truth is, I ended up here because of P.

I took the job because I thought I’d be moving soon to be with him. I thought I wouldn’t need to be here long. I thought I could tough it out for a year. And I thought the job would look good on my resume. I thought it would be a good stepping stone to fining a new job. If P. and I hadn’t been together, I don’t think I would have said yes to IBM. And maybe I wouldn’t have left Pittsburgh either. And I’m sure I wouldn’t have left the east coast.

But I did. And so here I am. Alone, on my own, in the middle of the country, in a job I don’t like, with no plan to get out of it. This is not a good thing.

I know I should just relax and realize that the ebb and flow will take care of it all. And honestly, there are many, many good things about my situation that don’t have anything to do with my job, my family, or boys. But still… I need an escape plan. Right now, the only plan I have is to stay put through ski season (I’d be foolish not to!) but that’s as far as my plan goes. This time next year… well, who knows where I’ll be. But I’m willing to bet it won’t be in this office, or even this office complex, maybe not even this town…

You can call me a purist but just don't think that this should legaly be called a spork.

It's the little things

Those of you who know me know that I am absolutely fascinated by things that are smaller than their normal size, mini things, if you will. (I am also absolutely fascinated by that giant can of tuna that you can buy at Sam's Club. I mean, it's just so big.)

Therefore, I was gleefully delighted by the sampler tray yesterday at Golden's second biggest brewery, the Golden City Brewery. (I'll give you three chances to guess the biggest brewery in Golden.)



Golden City Brewery is basically a house (and a small house) that's been turned into a brewery. There are about three or four tables in what used to be the living room and what was once a yard is full of picnic tables and plastic chairs on which patrons lounge while sipping the brew.

The Brewery was the last stop of a long day spent with my new pal, Thomas (the one for whom KA and I hosted the Wisconsin BBQ/B-day party a few weeks ago). Earlier in the week, he talked me into running a 5K with him on Saturday morning in a little town called Conifer. Neither one of us had ever been to Conifer and Thomas thought it was about the same elevation as Boulder so I thought the 5K would be no big deal. Turns out, the town is a wee bit higher (like between 8000 and 9000 ft) and the race was half up-hill trail running. Good thing I'm not a high maintenance girl (not that there was enough oxygen up there for me to throw a hissy fit).

I toughed it out and crossed the finish line, gasping for breath, around 29 minutes. Thomas was waiting for me at the end with a bottle of water and an apology. Stupid elevation.

But the race wasn't all bad. Thomas came in second place in his age group and before the awards ceremony, we hung out in the "beer garden" with about ten other runners. We had one beer, at high altitude, on empty stomachs, at 10:30 in the morning and so he an I were both inappropriately giddy during the awards ceremony.

To sober up, we split a jelly donut and then headed to Golden where we played vintage video games (Q-bert, Ms. PacMan, and Donkey Kong), stopped at the Puma outlet, and hit the brewery where we sat in the early autumn sun and played Scrabble.

I ended the day but hanging out with KA, Thomas, Jake (from my kickball team) and Jessica (my upstairs neighbor and Abby's official baby sitter). We ate Chinese food and watched Anchorman which was just as funny the second time around. I was in bed and sleeping soundly before midnight with that incredibly content feeling that comes from those moments when you can see how good life is.

About a month before P. and I broke up, Jose (our Puerto Rican intern) had a similar break up with his girlfriend. He and she had been together at school in New York. She knew she would be moving to California for her job so he took a job out here to be closer to her, thinking that he would eventually end up with her in California. But... she had a rough childhood and, as a result, has extreme difficulty with relationships. So the closer Jose and his girlfriend got, the "crazier" (his word, no mine) she got. Eventually, it got to the point where she completely withdrew from him. She wouldn't call, she wouldn't write, she didn't tell him what was going on in her life.

Sound familiar?

Needless to say, Jose and I have spent a lot of time bonding over our similar situations. I ran into him in the hallway yesterday and (to sum up) he told me he's been thinking about his ex-girlfriend a lot. He's realized he's still in love with her and that he's willing to be with her if she's willing to get help. And he's also realized that until he tells her this, he's not going to be able to move on with his life and move on to someone new. He's still connected to her and until he tells her how he really feels, he always will be. It doesn't so much matter if she agrees. So long as he tells her, he'll be okay.

As always, I know exactly how he feels.

He said he needed to see her and was working out a plan to make that happen. When I got home last night, I had an U.S. Airways e-savers email waiting for me. I browsed through it quickly and saw a cheap flight from Denver to San Diego (where Jose's girlfriend is right now). I sent the email to him with a subject line that said "Is it meant to be?"

I talked to him today and he's pretty sure he's going to go. "Lots of things have been lining up," he said. I'm incredibly excited for him and incredibly happy for him, too. Is it because I'm living vicariously through him? Because I want these same things to be happening to me? Or am I just legitimately happy for him?

Or maybe it's none of these things. Maybe seeing this happen for Jose makes me see hope, makes me realize that hope exists. And maybe it's good for me to see that right now no matter who it's for/about.