London Calling

First... some photos from our last day in Paris.

(the honey and macarons that I talked about in my last blog)

(Stella - the cheap beer in Paris @ our hotel's lounge. Me & a Kir Royal for our final dinner in Paris. Mike and his nasty Desperado... tequilla flavored beer. Who would want tequilla flavored beer?)

We did it again.

We fell asleep. For 12 hours yesterday. This time in London.

We win.

We got off the Eurostar at 8:30 AM in London after a 2.5 hour train ride, so I guess maybe we were pooped. We walked into a cafe at the station to let whatever bit of rush hour traffic might be left on the Underground over the holidays pass. The place was packed and there was a bit of a line which is always a good sign. We got a table and shoved our luggage into the corner and placed our order. As soon as the server left our table we heard this honking sound outside the cafe. The servers all stopped what they were doing and stepped outside to listen as a voice came over the intercom, we couldn't understand what was being said, but the servers came back in and sort of just watched for a moment. Outside, we could see that people were picking up their bags and leaving. Everything quieted down in the cafe and we could hear the announcement the next time it came over the intercom "This is an emergency evacuation - please calmly leave the building." The servers rolled their eyes but asked everyone to exit the building and if they still hadn't paid their tabs to come back and pay after the evacuation was over.

We gathered our things and headed out towards the exit where a crowd of people were waiting. We stood out there for about 3 minutes before everyone was let back in. Apparently it was a test that no one was really expecting (we've since heard them testing the system at other stations a number of times preceded by a "this is a test, ignore the next announcement") so we head back to the cafe and queued up next to the door so we could get our table back right away. The station is a ghost town with cups and plates on every table at every restaurant - and inside our cafe are two women wandering around looking lost.

Immediately we thought - holy crap, they were locked in!

The staff of the restaurant came back a bit later and told us that it would be about 20 more minutes till they could re-open. So we waited. The two women who were inside stepped outside near us and we asked them if they were locked in. They weren't. They were actually on a train that got in after ours. The train docked and they unloaded in the time that everyone else was evacuated, so they walked into a totally empty station with half eaten sandwiches, plates, hot coffee and unlocked doors everywhere. They looked lost because they thought that they had stepped into the twilight zone (maybe the rapture?)

They were a mother and daughter who lived in Northern England and had taken the train to spend the day in London. They had specifically planned to eat breakfast at this cafe and the daughter told us that she was thrilled to only have to wait 20 minutes to dine.

I don't remember the name of the cafe, but it was incredible. It seemd like it may have been some sort of UK chain that's similar to Panera (fresh breads, organic, free range, etc.) Had the best scone and cream I've ever had in my life. I haven't had too many scones, but that's mostly because the ones I've had in the past were so dry and icky. These were major yum. Fantastic quiche and delish tea. Mike had a ham and gruyere croissant which he scarfed, so I think that was good too.

We checked into our hotel (the K+K George - which is awesome and quite a bit bigger than our Paris hotel) and then off to the Tower of London for some gruesome fun. We had a tour with a Yeoman Guard (Beefeater) which was a great way to see the place. The constant drizzle was obnoxious, but I guess that's London.

(The view from our UK hotel room - I don't know what that is. An acorn from outerspace is my guess.
Our tour guide - hilarious.)

(That's a real person guarding the Crown Jewels at the Tower of London.
Me in front of the London Tower Bridge.)

Speaking of drizzle, let's discuss my hair.

My kick ass flat iron from home heats up to a steamy 480 degrees Fahrenheit. I need that kind of control. My hair is not naturally straight, it's not naturally curly, it's not naturally wavy. It's naturally weird. The bottom layers curl. The left side waves a bit. The top is just frizzy and there are a couple of areas on my head where I have genuinely straight hair. But those are mixed in with areas that have genuinely not-straight hair. Blow drying does a good job of poofing all the mixes of hair into a nice fro. Damp drizzle does a good job of turning that fro into a sloppy mess with curls near the top. So. Pretty.

Does sarcasm translate well here?

Moving on.

My awesome travel blow drier is dual voltage, so that was a win. My kick ass flat iron, is not - and it requires about as much power to work as a tv... or so I imagine.

Voltage converters and plug converters can't handle my flat iron because it's so awesome (Matt, we have to buy you a replacement voltage converter... I killed yours. Sorry.) There's only so much you can do to hide crazy hair and this morning I about lost it, so Michael went out in the morning and picked up a handy $30 Remington flat iron from the local Boots store. I am happy again. And so is my hair.

We checked out Portobello Market today and got our London souvenir. A wooden shoe horn with a duck head. We named him George. Tonight we're getting some kind of fancy pizza at a place that Mike had talked about for a while and spending New Years in a local lounge with drunk Brits (we had no desire to brave the crowds at Trafalger Square - we wouldn't want to go to Times Square, or Vegas on NYE, so why would we do it now?)

Happy New Year from the future! See you all next year!

Macaron Mania

I’m writing this blog on a train crossing the Chunnel from Paris into London.

Yesterday was our last full day in Paris – we spent it wandering around the little streets and shops in the Left Bank and Latin Quarter areas surrounding our hotel. It might have been my favorite experience in Paris although it wasn’t without a couple of hitches here and there.

A while back I had sampled a few macarons from a Beverly Hills based macaron maker. My life was kind of changed and I would by lying if I said that part of my reason for wanting to visit Paris in the first place wasn’t about a macaron.

So, I had done my research and came across a blog all about macarons. Amazing. They reviewed every store from the big ones right down to the little ones and in the top spot was one of the biggest names in Parisian macarons, Lauduree. There just happened to be one in our area, so I planned ahead and knew I’d be buying a boatload of those precious little cookie-cake-jam-gooey-happiness things.

We get there and it’s very French. As in, everyone is speaking French. Apparently (and this is new to me) I don’t speak French. Ok, I knew that going in, but I was pretty sure I’d be fluent in French by day three in Paris – enough to order my macarons with no issues.

The little dude who helped me out spoke a bit of English, so that was cool but every time I’d say one, he’d say two. And every time I said two, he grabbed one. And when I said three, he’d pick two. And when I said five he’d grab three. So. I should have known that maybe there would be an issue here.

Meanwhile, the whole store (which is the size of my kitchen – very small) sounds like a henhouse. A French henhouse. People are coming up to the register and ringing things up, people are bustling around and I’m scared.

So the dude at the counter rings up my order. In French. I have no idea what he’s saying. I want my macarons. Let me sign the damn paper and let’s get out of here. The bill was steep. About $150 steep. Something seemed wrong, but I was already out of the store and macarons are expensive and I bought a couple gift sets. I felt a bit like crying, this was more than I had thought but whatever. I wanted my macarons.

We get back to the hotel and I look over the receipt and realize there’s a 2x in front of the most expensive gift set I picked up. I start to panic. I DON’T SPEAK FRENCH AND I WANT MY MONEY BACK!!!

Mike suggests we go downstairs to see if the front desk can help us. They do. They call up the store and explain to the Lauduree folk (in French) what happened. We hightail it back to the store and get our refund, problem solved. Phew.

We shop around a bit more and pick up some specialty Parisian honey. Incredible. I guess French bees are kind of a big deal. I had no idea.

We get back to the hotel and I check the condition of my macarons – a few have cracked. I’m worried about their ability to survive the rest of the trip. I look over the silly little French pamphlets and read the lines that will forever haunt me:

Macarons should be consumed within 3 days of purchase.

Damnit. I bought them as gifts.

I’m thinking this is just some fancy thing that they talk about “best by date” which really isn’t something we should take seriously. Right? I’ll keep them chilled and they’ll be fine, right? Right?

So.

Hopefully they’ll survive. If not, I hope you understand.

The Great Mike Detective

About a week ago, Mike had asked me if I had seen a BevMo gift card he received on his birthday but had since lost.

I hadn't. I didn't even know he received a gift card or I would have told him to put it in his wallet right away. Losing a gift card is particularly frustrating for Mike because back when we bought our condo, the Realtor we used gave us a congratulatory gift basket complete with bathrobes, mugs and a $100 gift card to Zov's in Tustin. Mike misplaced the gift card somewhere and has been kicking himself over it for the last 3 years.

Mike, being a great detective, found the missing BevMo card a few days after asking me about it. Apparently it was sitting peacefully in the bed of our scanner. With the card "safely" in his possession, his mission was now to find the culprit behind the mysterious misplacement. After all, why would a BevMo gift card need to be scanned?

Primary suspect numero uno was me. Of course.

As we lay in bed getting ready for sleep, Mike filled me in on his exciting discovery and followed his story with an open (but obviously accusing) question. "Who would leave the gift card in the scanner?"

I laughed. I told him I definitely didn't do it and reminded him that I had never even seen the card and that I would have no reason to scan it.

He was smiling - but he wasn't laughing. He still suspected me.

He still suspected me!!!

I laughed again, incredulous. "You seriously think I did it!?"

He smiled, "Who else would put it into the scanner? That's too strange."

I laughed as I began my defense...

Mike's got this old scanner that is the most finicky, complicated thing to use. You have to be running some special program and operate everything from the program - it frustrates me to use it so I usually have Mike come and set everything up for me so I can actually scan stuff. I reminded him of this and also of the fact that I would have NO reason to scan his BevMo gift card.

He smiled at me. A smile that was a mix of accusation ("you know you're guilty, right?") and pity ("poor wife, you probably are going senile and forgot you did that! How sad.")

I repeated my arguments. No awareness of gift card + no knowledge of scanner set up + no motive = wife not guilty.

Ok. He sat in silence for a moment as he gave it some thought.

He began to think aloud and told me that I was still suspect number one. He had to figure out another suspect in the lineup. Obviously this would be...

My brother.

My brother?

My brother had come over a couple times in the last few weeks to help me update my computer with new software. He was there for hours at a time installing my new OS and reinstalling my old programs.

Mike had deduced that whoever was scanning probably used the BevMo card to run a test on the scanner.

My brother was working on my computer and the scanner is connected to Mike's computer. Why he would run a color test on the scanner for Mike's computer while working on my computer is unknown - and in the case of the great BevMo Gift Card Heist - is also apparently irrelevant.

As Mike mulls over the two prime suspects, he begins to realize there may be room in his lineup for a third suspect. The least likely candidate of the shady bunch, himself.

Mike has been sitting in silence for a few moments.

Still baffled as to why I have remained suspect number one, I begin to list my alibis over again. I had never seen the card, I can hardly use the scanner, and even if I was using the scanner for some test, I would have probably picked a picture I could use once it was scanned. I then told him he was more likely to be the culprit - thinking that maybe he was making copies of other card-sized documents and absentmindedly threw the BevMo card onto the scanner and forgot it.

The wheels in Mike's head were turning. He spoke as he thought (and I'm paraphrasing here...)

"Ok, you may not be the suspect anymore... you probably would have remembered when I asked you about it last week. So, here's what probably happened. Your brother came over to work on the computers...and we were connecting your computer to our network... and I was trying to link your computer to the printer/scanner so you could print over the network... and..."

...and...

And it turns out Michael had put his own BevMo gift card onto the scanner bed to use as a test for scanning over the network.

Mystery solved!

Mike then proceeded to pat himself on the back for his superior sleuthing skills. He had figured out the great BevMo gift card mystery of 2009. He asked me if I was impressed by his deducing skills.

Seriously, he did.

He cracks me up.

Strike That, Reverse It.

Today, this happened. British Airways: Union Announces Strike

In 11 days, Mike and I are scheduled to be on a flight to Paris... on British Airways.

We bought our tickets well before November 2... there wasn't a union cloud in the sky then...

We're currently in limbo. Not officially canceled yet, so we can't rebook. Not officially cleared for flight, so we're not sure what to plan for.

In general, I support unions - I think they offer an ability to provide a safety-in-numbers net to protect the weakest members of the workforce when real abuse of labor is an issue driven by a insatiable drive for profit. In most situations in recent history and the strikes that have affected my day-to-day life, I've found it pretty easy to side with the folks doing the walk-out.

Unfortunately, in this situation I'm finding it difficult to back the employees in this decision when industry standards across the board indicate that these changes are not a threat to their health and safety and do not constitute an unfair work environment. The decisions that BA has made also do not appear to be driven by much else than to stay afloat under the current circumstances. I don't get the feeling - even in reading through the union's releases - that BA is doing something underhanded.

In my industry, layoffs have forced me to take on 3 times as much work with no additional compensation, no promises of bonuses and no pay raise in the coming year. We're fighting to stay afloat. I want us to stay afloat. It's not fun, but it's also not inhumane.

If airline industry standards are too low to constitute a healthy work environment or if industry standards were so low that all unionized airline attendants agreed they needed better, I likely would have supported a strike in which every unionized airline attendant would have participated, but they don't have that backing.

I get it. It sucks that you have one less person on a long flight where people are total douche bags who sneeze on you, don't say please or thank you and now everyone has to do a bit more work to cover for that. And I get that it sucks to not get your regularly expected pay raise or bonus. We all get it, because we're all dealing with it right now. Your biggest punch in the gut was to your customer - particularly me (the easiest person to get to hop on board with your labor dispute or any other hippie emotional cause.) I get it... but how about you don't pick the holidays to protest, and you wait for the trial date to get the law behind you (if they agree with you then the public will support you!) I'm finding it very hard to imagine how anyone at all wins here.

A Visual Guide

Sig shared this chart on FB... for those of you who don't understand the beauty of procrastination, it may help. Click for the full sized image.



Apparently these charts are plentiful on the web and work perfectly within the Procrastination Loop. Here's another one with a bit more detail. Click for the full sized image.

Just in case you needed a little direction for your daily dose of procrastination.

Rub-a-dub-dub, Thanks for the Grub.

Everyone seems to be posting the things they are thankful for. I have a lot of things to be thankful for so, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, here we go.

I have to get the normal stuff out of the way - they'll get weirder because I'm thankful for weird things too.

First, I'm thankful for my family - husband, mom, dad, brother, and all my relatives all over this planet and my fantastic in laws. I wouldn't trade out any of them... even for Johnny Depp.

I'm thankful for my dog and all the dogs I've met or ever lived with. Dogs are awesome.

I'm thankful for ALL my friends and that you all are nice to me. I'm thankful that some of you are smart, some of you are thoughtful and some of you are stupid awesome - you all make me happy.

I'm thankful that I was born a healthy human being with a fully functioning human body. By "I", I mean my consciousness or whatever it is that seems to be linked to my human body but not limited by it. "I" could have been an ant or a termite or a monkey. Sometimes I'm jealous of my dog and the Lochness monster, but in the end I prefer to be human. As a human, I am thankful for all the animals and plants that sustain my omnivorous life. I'm thankful for all the humane farmers and workers who treat those creatures with respect and the people who work to make sure that the Earth and all animals are treated that way no matter where they sit in the food chain.

I'm thankful for all the blessings that came with the fact that I was lucky to be born in a first world country. I didn't do anything to deserve it, but considering that the odds of being born in the USA is about 3.1% and about a 15% chance of being born in a first world country, I pretty much already won the lottery. I'm no more or less special than any other child born on the same date at the same time, but "I" got lucky.

I'm thankful for the guy who designed Mercedes 300E that was built in '87. My old car is the best.

I'm thankful for technology. Facebook. Computers. Internet. Blogging. Google. Nanomachines. Robots. Even if I hate some of it, I'm still thankful for it.

I'm thankful for Battlestar Galactica. And the X-Files. And Arrested Development... And The Office... And Cartoons.... And actually, if I go on it will be too long. I'm thankful for TV... but only the shows I like. I'm not thankful for shows I do not like.

I'm thankful for subtitles.

I'm thankful for Michio Kaku, Ray Bradbury, Dorothy Day, Francis of Assisi, Anthony of Padua and Steven Colbert. Maybe for reasons other than what you might assume.

I'm thankful for Jon Stewart - probably for the same reason you assume.

I'm thankful for time travel (it will happen/has already happened... we can discuss this another time.)

I'm thankful for cheese.

I'm thankful that I haven't been abducted by aliens.

I'm thankful for ghosts. Even though I haven't seen one myself.

I'm thankful for photographs.

I'm thankful for pizza and nachos and frozen yogurt.

I'm thankful for patient polite strangers.

I'm thankful for people who hold open doors for others - male or female.

I'm thankful for holidays.

I'm thankful for the reality that my perception creates. Because of this, I believe the world I see every day is actually very beautiful.

I'm thankful for many more things that would take me years to list. Since I can't list them and because Michael is telling me we have to go, I have to remember to say a thank you in my head for those little things when I come across them - Thanksgiving time or not. I'm Thankful for it year round.

Boot to the Moon, Now Jazz Hands

Last night, Will, Michael and I headed up to the Downtown Artist's District in Los Angeles to the Cafe Metropol to watch a jazz performance by one of their old Cal Poly SLO choir mates, Inga Swearingen.

Michael had talked about Inga for as long as we had been dating - he played old recordings of her singing with their choir group and I'd be amazed by how perfectly her voice moved along all the notes. I was pretty excited to hear the real deal and she absolutely did not disappoint. She performed alongside her sister (also doing vocals), a stand up bass player, a guitarist and a percussionist. There was another jazz vocalist in the audience who happened to be a friend of hers - at one point she invited her up to the stage for a "songversation" - about 4 minutes of improvisational verse, harmonies and scat. The performance was phenomenal and I would not hesitate to drive anywhere in Southern California to see her again.

The only thing possibly more remarkable than her voice was her incredible personality. She recognized Michael and he introduced me to her and without hesitation she opened her arms and hugged me with a great big smile. She told me how much it meant to her that I could be there. It was the first time we met.

Now, normally I'd be totally freaked out by that type of person. I can definitely be a don't-touch-me-or-look-at-me type of person and when I've run into some of those overly friendly- spaced-out-touchy-feely type of people that teeter on creepiness, I tend to curl up into a ball and shut down.

That wasn't her. It might have been the first time I had met that type of person. I had no sense whatsoever that she was being anything but genuine. She was all there. She was very... present.

Her big sister, Britta, later made her way over to our table and began conversation with us, asking us about what we did and how we found out about the show and later telling us a bit about her family and their growing up and their passion for Music. She was EXACTLY the same as Inga. (Well, except that she was a Dental Hygienist - not a pro-vocalist... although she could be...when she and Inga sang together it was unbelievable.)

I've decided I like that type of person. The person who can start up a conversation with a total stranger who had nothing interesting to say, yet genuinely hangs on to every word that's being said as if they have a complete appreciation for the fact that this conversation, this moment, that word will never happen quite the same again. The type of person who listens as carefully as they speak and realizes there's no value in putting anything but goodwill into the atmosphere.

I don't know what their parents put in the water on their farm in SLO, but I'd like to bottle feed it to my children someday.

Anyhoo - I hope Will uploads his videos soon so I can share them, but for now here's a YouTube Vid of one of her songs - ignore the visuals... if she happens to show up in your 'hood, it's worth the effort to cancel all your other plans and check it out.

Economic Forecast for the Apocalypse

Last night I told Michael that my new retirement strategy would be to invest in tangible items that I could sell or trade in a post-apocalyptic world. Things like HAZMAT suits, gas masks, roller-skates, toilet paper, a fleet of trained dogs, solar panels, steel-toed Doc Martens, nano-machines and craploads of water. It's probably a good idea for me to work on my pocket desalination filters now so they'll be available at any time. I should also get a better grip on nano-technology as I'm pretty sure nanomachines will be the new gold. I don't want to contribute to any sort of post-apocalyptic violence, so you'll have to find other vendors if you're interested in guns or weaponry.

It's not that I think civilization will end any time soon or that I'll even live to see a post-apocalyptic world, but apparently I've got to have some sort of investment plan and as a non-economist, investing in a post-apocalyptic future seems to be the least risky strategy I've got.

I don't like risk. I especially don't like risk when it comes to my money. I work to get paid and I pay others for their work. I get that. I don't understand the other 75% of how I'm told making money works. Making money by letting it sit confuses me. I'm told that if I buy this stock now, put my money in this account now, invest in that thing now, it will be worth ten times more in 10, 15, 20 years. Magical capital. I don't doubt that it actually happens, but I just don't get how it's sustainable. The growth has to be endless for investment to be deemed profitable, right? But is endless growth possible? Isn't that where a crash or a burst comes in to level things again? Your regular boom and bust economy? I'm supposed to put my money in something that I'm told won't go bust and be ok with the risk that it actually will have to do that at some point and that I might get less money back that I put in? I'm supposed to keep afloat by jumping ship right before the bust and hopping on the next boom before it booms? I don't know how I feel about that.

I know I'm being paranoid. They'll say, "that's what risk management is for." And who am I supposed to trust for that information? The "experts"? The nameless person managing my 401K? They can't even decide amongst themselves what to do - they're familiar with the theory so maybe they have an intellectual advantage, but the bottom line is that they're gambling just as much as I am, right? In order for me to win, someone else has to lose, right? I don't care if it's a 401K or penny stocks - at the heart of it all, it's just a gamble. I don't like gambling. The last time I went to Vegas I went in thinking I'd be ok to lose $200. I lost my first $5, got sad, then won $20 and decided that I'd rather have $215 to spend on dinner than on this emotional roller coaster and quit.

We purchased our home back in 2007 - right as the real estate bubble was gently pin pricked and the air was slowly being released. We thought we were buying at a good time - the research you'd do on the net in late 2006 would yield two very strong opinions - 1) the bubble would burst and real estate would collapse any day now so plan on renting for the next 15 years or 2) the bubble would slowly let some air but bounce back again - the price drop would be temporary and it would be a good time to buy. Reliable sources for both opinions thrived.

In either case, it didn't matter too much for us because we weren't looking at a place as an investment. Everyone (literally) we talked to about buying a place told us we wouldn't be living in the same place in 5 years but we didn't want to assume that and instead looked for a place we loved. We found that place (I still love it) and decided to buy.

I read every. single. document. Anything that I needed to sign, I read twice - once at home and once again in the Realtors office. Most of the people we dealt with were fine with it, but our loan guy was a massive douche bag although he didn't seem that way at first - he was an older guy with many years of experience in the field. He was very friendly, knowledgeable and he met with us as often as we needed to discuss our loan options. We weren't sub-prime applicants, but the loans he was showing us were on were definitely on the creative end of the loan spectrum. We had to request to see a normal fixed interest loan. He somehow calculated that based on our incomes we could apply for a loan that was about $200,000 higher than the max we had set for ourselves when we came in (thankfully we didn't buy into the bigger loan thing.)

During our closing there was a specific document that they asked us to sign that indicated that we knew our loan was a "balloon loan." Our loan was NOT a balloon loan. I looked at the escrow woman and told her this is not our loan. The loan guy was sitting in the room. He said, "that's just a standard form, everyone signs it." I asked, "do we have a balloon loan?" he responded, "no." I reread the document and looked at Michael and said "I'm not going to sign this. We don't have a balloon loan." The loan guy got angry! He looked at me and said "Do you want to lose the house? You have to sign that or you can't close escrow and you won't get the loan. It's not a big deal, you just sign it, it doesn't mean you have a balloon loan!" In my head I flashed back to the moment where I asked the loan guy if he would recommend the same type of loan we were getting for his own children (he had told us about his children and his new grand child) he said yes, without a doubt. I looked back at the escrow lady and told her I couldn't sign that document. The loan guy huffed, got up and left the room pissed. The escrow lady read the document herself and then hand wrote something on the document indicating that we did not have a balloon loan and had us sign the page under her handwriting and stamp. That worked, we closed, we owned our home. I decided the loan guy was a douche bag and I probably should not have trusted him at all.

As the real estate bubble continued to leak out air and eventually pop, more information on these predatory loans started coming to the surface. While we were doing ok with our purchase, I did feel sympathy for the people out there who were losing their homes when their out of control loans came due and the market was not turning a profit anymore. Having gone through the process, I know that they most likely trusted what the "expert" had told them. Internet people were calling them stupid for not knowing better and blamed the homeowners for the collapse of the market. I agree in part - they should have read and understood all the terms of their loans and the documents they signed, BUT I understand how intimidating it can be as a non-expert when you've got the pro telling you that this is the way to invest and that you're just being a paranoid idiot if you don't follow their advice. It can be kind of hard to tell the expert they're wrong.

I can do all the research I want on WebMD when I have a weird cramp. I can pull up all my symptoms and do what I think is a pretty effective self diagnosis, but when I go into my doctor and she tells me my cramp is not due to the Maple Syrup Urine Disease (it's real, look it up) I'm going to believe the expert. To me, it's pretty much the same thing. I think that when you're dealing with money instead of lives though, it's a little easier for the "experts" to dismiss the danger signs when they're going to make more money off a little risk with my investment.

So, thanks, but no thanks. Post-apocalyptic nanotechnology FTW. Uhhhmmm... anyone know how I can get my hands on some nano-machines? I pay a pretty penny... or will trade for magical capital.

Offspring From The Future

Procreation is pretty trendy lately - everyone seems to be having babies. Mike and I are not planning on jumping on the baby bandwagon for a couple more years, but our friend Jessica (Swaaaaaan) recently posted an awesome link on my brother's Facebook page called 1,001 Rules for My Unborn Son which, over the course of the last few days has had me thinking of all the "rules" I've got in my head for my still unconceived children.

Many of my ideas actually don't really involve actual parenting - which should give you some insight into where I am mentally as far as the mothering-spectrum is concerned. For example, the one I decided today is this: When I eventually do have an infant, I think I would like to strap it to my body in some way while I go about my business. I'm talking full on papoose-field-worker-baby-attached-to-your-back-like action. It makes sense to me. You know where the baby is. It's not eating anything it's not supposed to be eating. It's got tons of crap to look at while you're doing your own thing. It's floating around like it did in your belly. I have no problem falling asleep in a hammock - and it's pretty much the same thing, so baby nap time seems like a no brainer. Plus, it seemed to work for the hardest working women all over the world. They've got their hands free to do all the stuff they needed to do and freedom to bend over to pick stuff up and junk. Brilliant.

Of course, I'm sure I'll read something as I get closer to having children that might change my opinion, but for now all I need is to look at awesome pictures and stay pretty convinced that this is totally what I will do.

Most people that have had the "will-you-have-kids" conversation with me already know that Mike and I are dead set in rearing some awesome nerd-children. If you review this venn-diagram that Marci shared the other day, I'd say we're aiming for the bluish-purple hemisphere with some yellow overlap for fun. Obviously the "Genius" is our kid, but I'm sure we'd be happy anywhere in the realm of "Brain", "Geek" or the classic "Nerd." We don't want to venture too far into the "Dweeb" category or the emotional dysfunction and social ineptitude hemispheres, but let's be honest, your stereotypical "cool" kid is nowhere on our radar.

Until our children can beat me away from their closets with their tiny fists, they will be dressed primarily in clothing of awesome. This includes daily animal costumes (they aren't just for Halloween friends) hats, sunglasses, and crazy shoes. There's also a good probability that on any given day my kids could walk out of the house looking like they stepped out of a vintage photograph. Why? Because I can. And because kids look cuter in knickers and bloomers. And because you don't remember much of what you wear before you're 4 anyway - you just remember what it looked like in pictures. I promise to be kind and avoid itchy fabrics... but yah. Get ready to be jealous of how awesome our future children will be. Someday.

I'm glad I'm writing this down so that in 7 or so years when I'm actually trying to get a 4 year old to wear a pea coat, knickers and a cap and he is screaming bloody murder and I'm crying because his 2 year old sister prefers to run around naked after ripping off her hippo costume that I tried to make her wear for the family trip to the zoo in February (because seriously, most appropriate time for animal costumes) you can all print this out to remind me how sure I was about how easily this would all work out.

Atomic Mischief

I love the possibilities that lie within the impossible.

I just read: “Sheldrake has also demonstrated in a number of studies that we can assist each other’s learning across distances, without any external interaction or communication. In one study, for instance, a group of individuals completed a newly created crossword puzzle, and their average completion times were recorded. The same puzzle was then broadcast to millions via TV, for the viewers at home to complete. Subsequently, a new group, who had not seen the puzzle at all, finished it significantly faster than the original group, suggesting that as a result of so many individuals having done the puzzle, knowledge of the puzzle was somehow etched into the field of collective consciousness, making it increasingly easier for others to solve.”

First off, this means you are all at fault for me not being a genius already - but that's not what I'm writing about.

Back when I was in school the simple explanation of matter was that it exists and you can't destroy it or create new matter - you can only change it's form. In the last few years scientists believe they've been able to create new particles which is new, different and exciting... but wasn't "possible" when I was a student. (Possibility in the impossible!)

Anyway, almost everything I've learned about science came from high school text books, Bill Nye The Science Guy, the Discovery Channel, and the Science Channel. I'm no science wiz. If I remember things correctly, I'm not the same thing now as the thing I was when I was born - atomically speaking - the structures are all the same, but the atoms are constantly changing. All the things I eat and breathe mix and mingle with my body sharing it's carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, iron, sodium, potassium, lithium, calcium, and sulfur atoms and they dance together and rotate in and out with the atoms my bones and organs. I convert the atoms I need to live and I get rid of the atoms I'm not using on a second by second basis.

Stay with me here because I have a point.

WHAT IF all these atoms had some kind of "memory" - kind of like a muscle memory. You know, like when your body remembers how to do something even if you haven't done it in years. So what if atoms have a "muscle memory" and they remember what it was like to be part of say, Einsteins brain, and once they wiggle themselves over and out and into grass or air or snot they wiggle themselves back into someone's brain and they have a "muscle memory" of a tiny part of what they did the last time they found themselves in a brain. They could also find themselves mixed into that brain with say an old atom from Galileo's brain and they're both like, hey, I've done this before and bam, Einstein-Galileo brain hybrid moment and voila, brilliance.

So my point.

This is my pseudo-scientific explanation of why there's movies that come out at around the same time with similar premises or similar characters. Case studies - Saving Private Ryan & The Thin Red Line, Deep Impact & Armageddon, Antz & A Bug's Life, Volcano &. Dante's Peak, Gordy & Babe (also, it appears the late 90's was big on Hollywood's atomic subconscious being all in a tangle) The Illusionist & The Prestige, Paul Blart Mall Cop & Observe and Report, Million Dollar Baby & Cinderella Man, there are plenty more I am sure.

It's the atoms.

The folks in Hollywood were all eating and breathing the same atoms in different cycles so the atoms got all up in their brains and were like, dude - Volcano movie - trust me. Within days that same atom had worked its way through the brains of studio execs and production staff so they all thought - dude, Volcano movie - so they did it and thought it was a new and brilliant idea. Until they realize they'd been had by their very own ATOMS!

And that's why you never trust what an atom tells you. They have no allegiance to your brain and are basically smearing the same ideas all over the collective subconscious. It's not your fault. And that's why this theory is likely neither new or unique - because I bet a rebellious atom plugged itself into my subconscious and told me to write about it - it's already told some of the others. Maybe the atom is part of the resistance and is trying to get awareness out about what those other radical new-idea-movie-killing atoms have been doing because he's tired of being expected to watch the same movie twice. Jerks.

Sigh.

(It's been a long day. I think this blog is further evidence of my need for a nap... I think I'll be filing this theory next to my "Seaweed As Evil Alien Species" theory in my ever expanding file of awesome-and-totally -possible-if-I-was-in-charge-of-everything-in-the-universe cabinet.)

Remembering Grandpa Russ

Back in June I blogged about the passing of a man who I had thought of as a grandfather-figure since my childhood. This week another person that I had come to view in the same light walked through those pearly gates.

We got a call from Mike's sister late Tuesday night letting us know that Grandpa Russ had fallen earlier in the morning, was in the hospital and that things were not expected to get better. We wrapped up things at home and got to the hospital pretty quickly. When we got to his room, we were met by Mike's parents (who had been at the hospital all day) and Mike's aunt and her husband.

Grandpa Russ was not conscious, but he was breathing on his own and the medical team was doing everything they could to make sure he was comfortable as he slept. Occasionally he'd move his legs or clench his fists, but he wouldn't open his eyes. He couldn't say anything, but I think he knew we were there.

Mike and I spoke to him and reminded him that we loved him and that he just needed to relax and get good rest because everyone was taking care of him. His breathing seemed calmer when someone was holding his hand or talking to him. He knew he was loved.

I walked into that hospital room telling myself that I had to be the strong one. I had to be the one Michael could lean on when we faced reality. After all, Grandpa Russ had lived in the same house as Michael the entire time he was growing up. He was a fixture in Michael's childhood memories and a fixture in their household even after he was grown and out of college - this would no doubt affect Michael in a way I had probably not seen him affected before.

I suppose I just wasn't prepared for how much Grandpa Russ had affected me. Within minutes of walking into that hospital room, reality hit and I lost it. I was being hugged by Mike's mom and Mike was stroking my back. In a way, I failed. In a sense, Mike and I have been able to lean on one another to stop us from toppling over. It has been difficult and although Mike has been doing well, his grief is unfamiliar and sad and I never know quite what to tell him, or how often I should hug him. When he's vulnerable, I have complete control of my emotions, I can talk to him and listen and when he's strong, I become a big blubbering mess. So. Balance.

Mike and I started dating in 2004 and while I had always had a rough idea of what the "Layton Legacy" was, I was not prepared for what it meant to walk into the Layton home on Christmas day. I swear, there were probably 45 men, women and children there and I was introduced to everyone by name within the first 20 minutes. I am 95% sure I met Mike's secret sister, Kim, who everyone tells me does not exist. In any case, coming from a family where our warm Christmases were always just between our happy family of 4 (with occasional guests) this was nerve wracking. God forbid person A would ask me to get person B a drink, because I couldn't remember who person B was and would have no idea who to move towards.

As always, their house was vibrant with kids running around all over the place, siblings laughing, reminiscing and helping out in the kitchen. It had been a while since Mike had seen some of his nieces and nephews and was eager to catch up with all of them. I was the brand new girlfriend and I didn't want to get in anyone's way . I didn't want to be a burden on Mike as he enjoyed this time with his family.

And there he was.

Grandpa Russ sitting in his chair at the kitchen table smiling as he watched the hustle and bustle of your standard Christmas dinner at the house on Pinto. I had met him before, I think, maybe when I was in high school - but I didn't remember adults very well back then. He said he remembered me from when Mike was in high school, so I sat. We talked about things for a long while - probably food, and Christmas and family. Dinner was served and I went to sit with Mike at another table.

Every holiday or family dinner at the Layton house would go much the same way for a while. I couldn't remember who Mike's siblings were or how many he had and who was married to whom and what children went home with what parent, and which one had 4 kids and which one had 3, and who lived in California and who didn't and where the heck did Kim go!?

Grandpa Russ was constant.

We'd come over and he'd be in his chair and I knew that I could grab a coke and sit in the chair next to him and we could talk until dinner was ready and I could be comfortable and I could ask him over and over again which sister that was and who that child belonged to without getting embarrassed for still not being able to keep this big family straight. He was happy to tell me all about it.

Even after I finally learned everyone's name and forgot about imaginary sister Kim, the most comfortable place for me to be was still sitting in the chair next to Grandpa Russ.

When Mike's parents would go out of town, we'd go to their house so that Grandpa wouldn't have to be alone and Mike could make sure that he ate dinner and was ok. We'd bring Apple over and she'd go crazy in his room acting like she owned the place. Grandpa loved it. The last time we did this was a little over a month ago and he was having a harder time getting down the stairs so we sat in his room with him eating In-N-Out. He insisted that he didn't want to be a burden and that we should go eat downstairs at the table. We insisted that we wanted to eat upstairs with him and set up a dining room for the three of us. He ended up showing us all the treasures and family heirlooms that he had kept with him and the stories that he could remember going with them.

He was born in 1913 - what a century to live in. In 1913 the 16th and 17th Amendments to the United States Constitution are ratified, the Mexican Revolution is being fought, Woodrow Wilson succeeds William Howard Taft as the 28th President of the United States, the zipper and stainless steel are invented, and the first automobile road across the United States is dedicated. Most people ride around in horse and carriage and the trolley is a fancy new transportation device. He lived through tuberculosis, cancer and heart attacks (with unbelievable stories to go along with them) as well as the Great Depression, the invention of the telephone, x-ray, sonar, radio, television, antibiotics, Velcro, the microwave and sliced bread (literally.) He talked about how wonderful his wife, Mike's grandmother was, and how good his daughter and her family were to him (Mike's parents.) He lived an amazing life.

He was loved and respected and I don't think he ever knew how much of a crutch he was for me. He always worried about being a burden as he got older but he was the person who unknowingly gave me solid footing when I was so nervous about being liked. He took away any pressure I had put on myself to make the right impression in front of Mike's family. I didn't have to say much or be funny or smart - he'd let me sit there and just listen which is all I wanted to do.

I'm a little nervous about going back to the Layton house now that the chair at the kitchen table isn't claimed. I feel as though I should be stronger and less affected, but I can't help it. By now I know and love Mike's family as if they were my own and I don't need Grandpa to be my safe zone, but I really enjoyed just sitting with him during our visits, and I'll miss that. It will be hard to not notice how empty that chair is now but I'm glad I spent time sitting next to it when it was filled. I have boat loads of stories to tell our children about their awesome great grandfather and his adventures in the days before TV.

Much love Grandpa Russ. Say hi to Grandma Millie for me - we never met, but I know you missed her the most. You'll always be in our hearts.

Remember Remember the blog in November...

Remember when I blogged 5 days per week? How awesome was that?

I forgot October.

Actually October showed up all of the sudden on the 1st, and was like "I am awesome and can make your dreams come true!" so I trusted it and listened to it's 2 hour timeshare pitch before it mugged me and ran away. Then November showed up and was like "hey, I'm here." And I was like WTF! And I shook my fist and said "damn you October!!!! I was supposed to blog weekly and lose 15 pounds!" I crumbled to the ground in tears and November - being the wise old month that it is - just gently held me in it's arms and consoled me with promises of Thanksgiving dinner and 4 day weekends.

So. That's why I ate pumpkin cheesecake for breakfast. And it was incredible.

For a number of reasons, we did not throw our annual Halloween Bash this year. It was missed, but I'm hoping it will be back next year. (BTW, if anyone is looking for a place to live in OC, the Chandler House is still looking for one more room mate... message me for details.) We did however celebrate a whole lot of birthdays and had a great time doing it... and no doubt some of you were busy working this past October to make more June birthdays for me to celebrate. So, good times.

I'll be out of town pretty much every weekend this month - except for Thanksgiving weekend when the husband and I will be going to our 10 Year HS Reunion (buy tickets now!) The only thing I'm actually worried about is greetings. Do I hug everyone? Do I shake people's hands? I like hi-5's, but some might disagree... or not know what I'm doing. Thoughts?

There were other things I was going to write about, but they'll have to wait... since I've forgotten most of them. I need to get one of those voice recorders like that Vicki Sprantz from Troop Beverly Hills (and BTW, HOW THE HELL DID I MISS THIS!?!?!? ) so I can actually remember all the random things I mean to blog about.

Now on to survive the next few weeks at work without pulling all my hair out.

Lame Reasons I've Heard for Not Going to our 10 Year Reunion

Our 10 year high school reunion is quickly approaching and I am actually looking forward to it. In general, the Class of 1999 kicked ass. We were smart and talented. Um. That's a fact. Because I said so.

Don't get any funny ideas - I was in no way, shape, or form... cool. I was in choir and really only did choir and music things, my friends were in the choir or in the band and I rarely talked to people outside of my comfortable nerd world. I loved those nerd people. I didn't know parties existed where people drank alcohol and did drugs until my Senior year and I was never officially invited to one... but even if I was, I probably would have rather stayed home. I wasn't super smart or talented - just normal and maybe a little hyperactive. I knew I wasn't one of the popular kids then as much as I know that now and if you had asked me in 2000 who I wanted to see from my graduating class, I probably would have a longer list of people I'd rather not ever see again.

Luckily, 10 years is a lot of time for change - and while I still love all the nerdy things I loved then (and more!) I am no longer the person who gets intimidated by the cool-kids. For the most part, I like myself now and I don't feel the need to be anyone else. It's liberating and I know that most people have gone through this same metamorphosis so I look forward to meeting all these new people again.

That said, my optimism isn't shared by most and I've heard a number of lame reasons from awesome people as to why they think they're not going.

Lame Reason #1. "I already keep in touch with everyone I actually care about"

No, you don't. This is so wrong you don't even realize it... because I didn't. Here's the reason why (and I've retold this story numerous times when people try to tell me that reunions are lame.) See, I went to our 5 year reunion for 1 reason only - I wanted to get back in touch with a friend who had changed e-mail addresses and mailing addresses that I had lost and he wasn't yet on MySpace. He ended up not going, but I got his contact info from another classmate.

I showed up late to the reunion, paid $80 for my date and myself which paid for 2 drink tickets, and "appetizers" (which sucked because at the time I was doing the whole vegetarian thing so I ate crackers and the 3 pieces of cheese that were left) - it was a waste of my money... until Michael Chung. My date and I were about to leave after about 20 minutes of not doing much (since the rest of the reunion attendees had already dispersed into the wide wilderness of D&Busters) when one Michael Chung walked by swiftly towards the exit. I kind of screamed a little and shouted, "holy shit, Michael Chung!" and I think I scared him.

Michael and I never hung out outside of class, but we had 4 years of Latin together. With the people that sat around us in class we gossiped about school drama, discussed Dawson's Creek, and ate smooshy cookies. I looked forward to class because I loved the people I sat near and when I saw Michael Chung again it immediately occurred to me that I really liked this person as an individual and whatever differences in social circles we had in High School that might have once prevented us from being friends outside of school, were no longer relevant in adulthood. The rest is history. If not for a "stupid reunion" I would have missed out on a good friend that I would never have had the pleasure of knowing as an adult. It never occurred to me prior to that moment that I wasn't already in touch with everyone I wanted to know. He was at my wedding and I hope he'll be around for other important life events.

Lame Reason #2. "It will be embarrassing - I'm not doing anything with my life"

A) Actually, you are and B) I don't care. Thanks to Facebook everybody pretty much already knows what you're doing and you're doing fine... but actually, most people (myself included) don't care. Even if you're making $3,000,000 an hour, that's neat and I'm kinda jealous, but I don't really care because that's not a qualifying factor for me to want to spend the evening chatting with you over a beer. I am however interested in the quality of your character. If that hasn't developed in the last 10 years, then maybe you don't want to show up to the reunion because that's really sad. I am absolutely not the same person I was 10, even 5 years ago, and I'm going into this expecting that everyone else has also changed.

Lame Reason #3. "Everyone is just going to stick to their cliques."

They will - at first, because that's what sober, nervous people do. Once people start relaxing (and I start peer pressuring people to drink *side note - if you're a recovering alcoholic, please tell me now before I accidentally force you out of your recovery at the reunion with a sake bomb*) and the music and the food is flowing, then you'll be able to talk to anyone you want. Besides, if you see someone you don't want to talk to, there's a drinking game for that! Every time you see someone you'd rather not talk to, take a drink! Before the night is over, you'll want to talk to everyone! In any case, the more important thing is what you are going to do - don't be quick to clique.

Lame Reason #4. "But we already have Facebook."

Back in '04, we had MySpace. Just like Facebook now, not everyone was hip to it. In my opinion, Facebook is an advantage when going to these reunions. Now you can skip over all boring "tell me what you're doing" questions and just say "OMG, I saw that video you posted of your baby doing a slam dunk while dancing to Single Ladies - HI-Larious!" and go from there discussing the latest YouTube phenomenon and bam, you're drinking beers and having a good time with someone you already know from Facebook but don't really know, you know? I don't know about you, but I've got about 500 Facebook friends - and at different points in my life, I have personally known and loved them all- but when was the last time I met up with all of them at a bar? It rarely happens. It might happen more after I decide I like you in person now as much as I like you online... unless you decide you only like me online, in which case, ok. haha.

Legitimate Reasons for Not Going to the Reunion:
1. "I'm having a baby and the due date is November 28, 2009."
2. "I'm getting married on November 28, 2009 and my fiance will be pissed if I don't show up."
3. "I'm homeless and living in a shopping cart so I have to decide between the cost of the ticket and eating for the next month."
4. "I can't afford a plane ticket from Greenland, but I'll start walking now and hopefully I'll make it."
5. "I'm Miley Cyrus and I have a show scheduled that night on my Slobbery Horselips and Baby Teeth tour"
6. "I am currently in a coma."
7. "I didn't go to your high school... and I graduated in 2005"
8. "I am a dog (cat, bird, turtle, giraffe, etc.)"
9. "I am allergic to oxygen"
10. "I will punch you in the face if I see you."

So, the point is, go. Because I will be there and I honestly want to party with you and your face and clearly we don't hang out enough anyway. Just like with any other life experience, go into it with an open mind and you'll be the one in control of how good or how bad a time you have. If you show up and you're having a shitty time, come find me... I'm 100% serious - we'll party way better than anyone did back in 1999.

Also, if you didn't get the invitation yet they probably don't have the right mailing address. You can register and get the details here: http://monarchalumni.org/s/265/index.aspx?sid=265&pgid=353&cid=946&gid=1&ecid=946

Now Even More Reasons To Procrastinate!

I thought something today that I thought I'd never actually think...

September is going to be awesome.

September used to mean an end to summer, back to tests, homework, school, busy work hours, darker days... glum. glum. glum.

I have a better outlook this time around. Aside from awesome birthdays, a wedding, a weekend getaway bachelorette party and other fun social events that we'll be making our cameos at, this month brings some serious couch-potato kickass that makes me want to give everyone in the world a hi-5 for September.

1. Labor Day. Yes. I don't have to go to work on a Monday. This is awesome. September could be fantastic for this reason alone.

2. The final episode of The Time of Eve. This is an incredibly nerdy thing that I have been waiting to be released for months. It's the last in a 6 episode online series of animated shorts about androids and humans.

It's animation is incredible and the storytelling is brilliant but I'm not even going to try and expand on it further because it would only highlight how truly nerdy I am. And besides, I'm kind of embarrassed by how excited I am for it to finally be here. http://timeofeve.com/e/

3. TV. After what always seems like an endless summer hiatus, my favorite shows make their way back to my boobtube starting a parade of fall premieres in the months to come.

The Office returns on Sept 17! Michael Scott, Dwight Schrute, Kelly Kapoor and Kevin Malone - my life has been so normal without you weirdos in my life. Jim & Pam are getting married! Hilarity obviously will ensue.

I also have high hopes for the show that is scheduled to be on right after the office, "Community" - with Joel McHale, Chevy Chase, John Oliver and pulling writers and directors from Arrested Development and the Sarah Silverman show (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNrPr-UCtog check out the 4 minute trailer on YouTube that made me snort-laugh.) I'm in. Also interested in Glee starting Sept 16... (which will then lead into Ugly Betty in October, V in November... yay...)

4. Beatles Rock Band - out 09/09/09. I have my pre-ordered copy set for same day delivery... so unless you already have me RSVP'd to your happy shenanigans this month, I will not be leaving my house unless it is absolutely necessary. I probably will not be answering my phone unless you happen to call me between my rockin' sets. You may come over and join my band, play the drums and sing harmonies with me (which reminds me... I need to get another mic for my band set) choreograph interpretive dance to "Dig a Pony" and bring me Beatles inspired hamburgers, grilled cheese sandwiches and scotch & cokes. Those are all good ideas. Do them. (http://www.salon.com/ent/critics_picks/2009/09/02/beatles_rockband/index.html)

So yes. These things are (in the words of Mr. C) "great, good and glorious" - and of course, blogworthy.

As queen of the proud couch potatoes, I would like to officially welcome the month of September to 2009.

Good to have you here.

P.S. Remember August? Gosh, that month lasted a hot minute...

ComicCon International 2009 - Day 3 & 4 (The Saga of the Stealthy Cell Phone Security Stealer)

After my last blog we enjoyed the Battlestar Galactica panel in Ballroom 20 of the SDCC. As we were leaving the incoming crowd pushed forward as we battled them to get out of the room and onto our next event. I did a double check to make sure we weren't leaving anything behind and then wiggled out as people shoved their way in. Only about a half hour later did I realize that something had gone wrong and that my cell phone (including my adorable and much loved phone-bunny charm, Mr. Harry Juku) was missing.

I had gone into a comic book panel on my own and was going to text Mike an update when I realized that my phone was nowhere to be found - I dumped out my purse... nothing. I ran back to the panel in Ballroom 20, couldn't get in and the lady was mean to me. I started crying. I ran down to lost and found, nothing. I started crying. I asked all the staff and security guards I could find if they knew where a payphone was... none of them knew. I finally found someone at information who asked someone else, who asked someone else and thought they knew that a payphone was around the corner. I ran down there, put in my $1 of quarters and called "Long Distance" to Mike's cell phone hoping that he would pick up a call from a strange San Diego area phone number. I started crying. He finally picked up and in a panicked sob I mumbled about what had happened and asked him to get out of his line to help me find my phone. He did, because he's awesome.

Without my cell phone, it was harder to set up a meeting place and meet up with him. There was some confusion but after chasing him a bit in the distance (and crying) we found one another. He walked back with me over all my steps and talked us back into Ballroom 20 (while I cried) and we checked under the seats but couldn't find anything. He walked me back to the lost and found and better explained what happened to the person at the counter (while I cried) and then calmed me down enough to get to a place where I was only depressed, not crying.

We hopped back in line where Brian L was waiting for us and got into a neat panel for District 9 (looked awesome) and then we took off again on the hunt for Mr. Harry Juku and my phone.

We run back to lost and found, hoping for an update and get in right before they close. No phone.

We went back to Ballroom 20 since I remembered that the people right next to us in the 2nd row were planning on staying in there for all the panels that day. Sure enough when we got in there, those people were still there (although they had managed to move closer to the center of the room and they remembered me & they had informataion about my phone!

Someone had found my phone! And even better, they turned it into the security guard at the front of the room! Another group also confirmed this and later a man approached me telling me he had seen them give the security guard the phone and he was going to put it on a "table."

"Joy!" I thought. It's in the hand of a professional! At least it's in good hands! Mike asked the security lead that evening and he suggested we go to the security headquarters to see if it had been turned in there. We do that (filled with hope, joy and happiness) and find... nothing.

No phone. Nothing turned in. Nada.

Luckily we managed to talk to one of the head honchos, who after telling him the whole story, took a very personal interest in finding out what happened and why one of his security guards ha d not turned in the phone. He told us to come back in the morning and see if something would come up as the night shift ended.

At dinner, my brother called my phone on a whim and it picked up! Apparently it was still in this guy's pocket and my phone (which was on silent - no vibrate or anything) answered this call and we could hear his voice and other people's voices. This prompted Mike to call AT&T where a super helpful person did everything she could to figure out how we could get our phone back. Since we're on a family plan she was able to set us up with a tracking program so we could triangulate the location of my phone within 1 mile (or less.)

Once we set that up we were able to find that my phone was still at the convention center. JOY!!! We relaxed for a bit... up until about 11pm... when the phone started moving. .. from the convention center, to the Hilton Hotel... and then to National City.

We came back in the morning to the security booth and let them know we were able to track our phone and that it was moving... and that it hadn't returned to the convention center. We were pleased to discover that all these head honchos in the security staff were retired SDPD who had worked in homicide investigations, sex crimes and a former captain of the SDPD... they knew the cops and they knew what they were doing... AND they were so excited to have an investigation that didn't involve fraudulent comic-con badges. They were interrogating staff, and had called the SDPD down to take a police report from us (we had to leave the Lost panel right before it started... but it was just something we had to do.) These security dudes were kick-ass and I felt so much better about this shitteous situation .

Saturday comes to an end and there is still no phone and it hasn't returned from National City... but the investigators were able to narrow it down to 3 possible perps and today they found the guy who was given the phone who said he turned it into his supervisor. SO. NOW. We're sitting at Comic-Con not really wanting to do anything but wait for my phone to be found and returned unharmed. The battery died (or the phone was turned off) so we can't track it anymore, but I still have high hopes.

In more ComicCon style news though, I wore my costume yesterday - Dr. Mrs. The Monarch from the Venture Bros. It was a trip. I was intereviewed by a couple websites (Mike got dragged into them too hahah) and it was like I was working at Disneyland again. We could hardly walk 3 feet without being stopped for a picture. Insane.

We walked down to the Adult Swim booth and took pictures and ran into other folks dressed up from the Venture Bros (there was a Venture Bros. panel that day) and took a number of group pictures. The producer of the Venture Bros. happened to be in the area and took my picture and later explained who she was and asked if she could get my permission to post the picture on the Venture Bros. facebook page. SURE! A moment later, a woman from Adult Swim asked us to all sign releases to have our pictures used for their bumps... so that was neat.

The Venture Bros panel was actually probably my favorite thing we did. Doc Hammer was hilarious and hearing all the other guys with their normal voices having moments of Dean, Dr. Venture, etc. coming out in normal conversation was great. Actually they were all hilarious. I'd wait 3 hours to see them all again any time.

The sad news was that when Mike asked an exec @ Adult swim about Lucy The Daughter of the Devil and the possibility of Loren Bouchard's half hour spec being picked up, we got a definite "no." On top of that, Adult Swim has a buttload of really shitty looking shows coming up. So, it's good to know AS is going down the toilet. Fantastic.

Anyhoo... this is too much of a long blog. Let's all keep our fingers crossed for my phone, kay?

Other notes:

-Anime kids are annoying and smell bad.

-The 14 year olds camping out for Twilight are gross and left the most disgusting dirty mess after they left.

- I think I hate teenagers.

ComicCon International 2009 - Day 1 & 2

Right at this moment Mike and I are sitting in an outdoor winding line for a Battlestar Galactica panel with the cast and crew of BSG at the San Diego Convention Center. Thanks to Google, we've got free wi-fi here at Comic-Con, so I finally have a moment to blog.

We arrived on Wednesday for the preview night where, as 4 day registrants, we could get our access badges and take a peek at the insane exhibit hall a day before the single day registrants could come in and pick up some neato freebies.

Thursday, we arrived at the convention center about 4 hours before any panels started and got in line out on the lawn behind thousands of insane Twilight fans who had camped out from the night before (hahah Marci). I really wanted to see Tim Burton's panel on his film Alice in Wonderland which luckily was the first panel up. It was totally worth it. The stuff in hall H was all in 3D HD which was amazing looking... and Alice looked FANTASTIC (along with Christmas Carol w/Jim Carrey, and TRON Legacy which looked great) and I almost peed my pants when Tim Burton brought Johnny Depp out on stage. GIRLBONER.

Sat through a bunch of other panels for movies I wasn't too interested in, sat through the Twilight which I'm pretty sure is porno for 13 year old girls and finally got to the James Cameron panel where we watched about 25 minutes of his movie Avatar in 3D which was AMAZING. Then a panel with Terry Gilliam showing clips of his film The Imaginarium of Dr. Pernasius. Terry Gilliam was rad and the movie looks super cool... so I'm set to watch movies for the next year.

The downside of these panels is that the attendees can ask questions on the mic - which in theory doesn't sound like a bad idea - except (warning, explicit lyrics ahead) for the two effing tards who got in line for EVERY EFFING PANEL and asked the most stupid dumb piece of shit questions my asshole could have thought up just so they could get their stupid ass ugly faces on the screen. Obviously I wanted to punch them. They suck. And if I run into them later at the convention, I might have to tell them how much they suck. No, don't effing cry when you ask Terry Gilliam what it was like to work with Heath Ledger you dumbass "actor studying @ San Diego State" no one wants to cast you and Tim Burton doesn't give a shit that you're an actor and you're his acting inspiration - your stupid question should not have been about what it was like to direct Johnny Depp. I want Helena Bonham Carter to crap on your face and Vern Troyer to kick you in the head. Anyway.

We finally got out of the convention center in the evening and ate at the restaurant at the base of the Hard Rock, which the SyFy channel bought for the weekend and converted into the SyFy cafe with SyFy show themed menu items. Good times.

There were not as many costumes on Thursday as when we were here last year. Today (Friday) there are a few more costumes since it's "Star Wars" day and there are storm troopers and other Star Wars themed costumes all over the place. I've been taking pictures with my fancy camera so I'll be sure to upload them soon. Mike and the other guys have seen a bunch of celebrities wandering around, but I never recognize any of them anyway. Must be a boy thing.

I'm exhausted, but having a great time and happy to not be in the office.

Hot July Brings Cooling Showers, Apricots and Gillyflowers

Ok, so I fail.

Technically.

It's now July and I did not blog every weekday in the month of June. I didn't even blog most weekdays in the month of June. I may have failed, but I'm not a failure. I like to set goals for myself, but I'm not dead set on achieving them. I just like setting them. My attitude about "achieving goals" might be directly related to my attitude about procrastination - I'm just not always that motivated. In general I'm fine with that. I know there are people who are totally perplexed by my attitude - typically the goal oriented folk - who are happy to list off their grand accomplishments and how setting and achieving goals is part of their life mantra. That's great. It's not mine. I love my life, enjoying the flow with or without achieved goals. I'm much happier with this attitude than I was when I thought I needed a benchmark for success or happiness. I didn't.

Now, an anal retentive need for organization, structure and a certain level of control? Yah. Me. No going with the flow there (ref: our wedding, most vacations, and anything that requires even a small amount of planning) although I'm getting better. :o)

So my July goals... that I may or may not achieve in July...

1. Finish my shirts and costume for ComicCon (and post pictures when they're ready)

2. Lose 10 lbs (hahahahhahahahahhhahahah... I think this is a goal I set every month)

3. Make pizza dough again (as a direct affront to goal #2)

4. Blog at least once a week (I can totally do that, right?)

5. Up for grabs!!! (Woo Hoo!)

Looking forward to it :o)

The Dog Farm

So you know how when you're a kid and you see a stray dog and your parents stop to pick it up but then when they find out there's no collar on the dog they call animal control to pick up the dog because they've told you every time that, "No, we can't keep this dog" so then you start imagining what you're going to do when you're a grown up and one of those ideas pops into your head like the end of one of those 101 Dalmation movies where you tell yourself you'll make a million dollars and buy a huge plot of land so that hundreds of unwanted and lost dogs can roam happily and freely without a care in the world?

Well, my uncle pretty much made that dream come true for him. He lives in Colombia and moved out to this semi-remote area where he could have a larger plot of land so he could keep every stray street dog he found. I think his current count is something like 27 mutts roaming on his property out there. This ain't no rescue organization (although if he comes across a puppy that someone want's to give a forever home to, he'll help out) he's literally taking dumped dogs off the street and giving them food and shelter. People have brought him dogs and he doesn't turn them away. He's no dog whisperer either... all he gives these dogs is lots of love and they're all happy as can be.

I thought these pictures were pretty cute, so I figured I'd share.

A Case of the Mondays. On Wednesday.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, layoffs at my office have forced me to take on a few receptionist duties for part of the work day. I have a new appreciation for receptionists. They filter through a lot of crappy people and I've learned some things that I'm sure people in customer service or in a receptionist type role can relate to. In general I have your average office related rants but maybe my time in reception hell has only exacerbated my irritation particularly with people who call in. So. Time for a vent.

1. Say "please" - I don't care who you are and I don't even care if you say it in an angry voice. Even through your angry tone, I can tell you are trying to suppress your inner-hulk when you say please. I appreciate it. I will go out of my way to try and hunt down the person you're looking for or try and figure out some way to help you.

2. Never call me "sweetie" or "honey". EVER. You don't know me you condescending bitch. Don't think that just because I'm directing your call I don't know what your talking about. As a matter of fact, I could probably help answer at least part or all of your angry question, but the minute you talk down to me I'm going to let you squirm and wait for someone else to call you back. If you do this and you're actually looking to talk to me, I'll pretend I'm someone else and put you into my voicemail with a note saying "condescending bitch" and call you back at the very end of the day. And you old guys who think you can call me "sweetie" or "honey" because I sound young and you're old and fat... you can suck it. My husband and friends don't call me sweetie or honey so you sure as hell can't.

3. Have your shit together. Who the hell calls some place of business without having any of the stuff they're asking about in front of them? Did you think I would just magically know who you wanted to talk to and who your call was supposed to go to? I'm picking up the phones, not reading your mind.

4. I get why you're pissed and actually it really is all your own fault.

5. Be extra nice. Please is great - it goes soooo far. BUT if you're that caller who is cheerful and patient despite your crappy situation, I'll help you out first. In the same vein, don't tell me to do something for you "now" and don't threaten me with "or else" because it actually makes me not care about what happens to you and I'll want to help you out last.

6. Listen and follow instructions. If I tell you to leave your name and phone number and property address, we need all three. So when you get a call back and you have to wait on hold for a few minutes while we look up your data because you didn't leave the requested information, that's your fault. When I ask you what state your property is in, the correct answer is not "Lake Elsinore" (state of disrepair, state of mourning... all those would also be acceptable answers if you were a smart ass... you would make me laugh, so you'd get a bonus point.)

7. Be nice in your voicemail. If you're rude, I mark it "rude," "angry bitch," "jackass," "asshole" etc. Typically I return calls in the order they were received, but if you get a mark like that on your voicemail note, you're bumped to the bottom. I also mark people who are really really nice... and call them back immediately.

8. Being angry doesn't help. Really, it doesn't.

9. Poor planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part. Get it together. I'm not a doctor. You can't call me on my cell over the weekend and I'm not going to respond to your e-mail after I go home. Don't leave me angry messages and multiple e-mails on a Sunday telling me you needed the information yesterday. The recording says our office is closed (please see item #6). That's what you get.

10. I do call everyone back and I do respond to every e-mail. I promise. Now take a deep breath.