(ad)venture awaits!

— January 26 —

Yikes! Typing that date makes me realize I think I’m supposed to have a chair painted by tomorrow, for a “Chair-ity” event. I don’t think that’s going to happen. I think I can turn it in later, though, it just won’t be featured in the advertising. What’s holding me up is my choice of paint. Not sure it’s the right choice. I need to decide that by tomorrow, though, and either get started or decline completely.

I spent the day today either emailing or thinking about email. Working out a new little (ad)venture of my own … details to come, once they’re finalized.

Otherwise, I basically just went to the store for cat food (and came home with mochi too, mmmmm), then to the bookstore to take a look at a couple of books, then home again home again lickety-split. I boiled up a piece of dried ginger, or should I say boiled down a piece of dried ginger, with the intention of making a ginger syrup to make soda with tomorrow. It’s all just a grand experiment, I used no recipe nor did I even investigate how other people do it. I just enjoyed the doing. Who cares if it works.

When it was nearly done boiling, I took it off the heat and held it to my nose to smell it, to see if the dried ginger was doing the job. I neglected to factor in the steam. I wonder if it’s possible to burn the inside of your nose by sniffing?

But the ginger smelled good and strong. It is now a deep rich golden color, made more golden by the addition of some blue agave syrup at the end stage. For sweetener.

I’ll let you know the outcome tomorrow.

Peace out.

—UPDATE—

Since I somehow neglected to schedule this post last night, and so it didn’t publish this morning, I can go ahead and let you know how the soda turned out right now.

Pretty good! Although it could be stronger x2. Not quite sure how to accomplish that … let it boil down even less? Or use two pieces of ginger? I’ll have to experiment.

So while the liquid itself is very very light in color, it tastes pretty good. Definitely ginger.

darting about

— January 25 —

Well, I promised you a darts story, I’ve got one.

I’ve played darts a total of four times in my adult life, including today. (As a kid, we had one of those cork dartboards in our basement that was shaped like a baseball diamond. I never understood that game then, I doubt I’d understand it now. I think I threw a few darts at the corkboard once or twice, but nothing I even remember.) Each time I’ve played in the past year, I was a sub for someone who couldn’t make it. Basically, I was the difference between the team getting to play and having to take a forfeiture. But each time I’d play, my contribution to the team was appreciated. Last time I played, with brand new darts of my very own, after two games learning curve I started doing VERY well, and won two games for the team.

Well, tonight’s game I was playing under a bit of pressure since I had (unexpectedly) done SO well last time I played, I’d set the bar high for myself. Tonight we played an Away game.  I played Okay, but not as well as last time.  I guess I was having kind of a hard time focusing. Or maybe it was because the other team kept going out in three or four rounds, and I didn’t get much of a chance to shoot at all.. I got one bull, maybe one low ton (I can’t remember), and a bunch of “good points!”

Well, in one game round about halfway through the night, I was playing particularly well. I dropped my score down to where I just needed fifteen to go out. The rotation went around without anyone going out, and then it was the guy ahead of me’s turn. In two darts he took himself from 74 down to 8. He was going to go for it on the third dart, but his team members, especially one very vocal one, pleaded with him to stop there. I guess they worried that if he’d bust, he’d be back up at 74 again. I could tell the guy really wanted to go for it, but after about a minute of intense, loud pleading, he stopped.

Then it was my turn.

All I needed was fifteen. With the vocal support of my team, I took the line. I aimed. I focused. The creamy “fifteen” field swelled and expanded in my field of vision until it was all I saw. I aimed. I focused. I threw.

And I hit my mark.

It was a spectacular win, made more so because the other guy stopped more or less against his will. I doubt they thought I’d produce, as I hadn’t played particularly “well” all night (though I didn’t play badly, either.)

It was SO much fun.

miscellany … I’m grasping at straws, here.

— January 24 —

Nobbut* apps pictures again today. If I’ve done anything exciting lately, I sure haven’t taken any pictures of it. Took these this during kitty time last night. She’s getting rather annoyed with the camera, methinks.

*Nothing but – [British Cockney]

Party cat

"Blue Period"

I don’t think I have any stories today because frankly, I don’t really remember this afternoon. It was utterly unremarkable and apparently quite forgettable.

I do remember trying to use up the last of the gluten-free bread in the fridge. I toasted it, then put the last of my homemade butter and the last bits of a jar of peanut butter on a slice and ate it. It was a tremendously unenjoyable experience. A bit like eating wallpaper paste covered in peanut butter and sweetened with honey. Granted, I’ve not eaten wallpaper paste, but I would imagine it would be dry and dense and would refuse to dissolve in your mouth. Later tonight I gave the heel of the bread one last chance: I slathered it in butter, then sprinkled garlic salt on top, then generously sprinkled grated cheese over that and then another layer just to be sure, and topped with a bit of parmesan, microwaved it and sliced it with a knife into small squares.

Ugh. Still wallpaper paste, only with salt instead of sweet this time. Maybe the only solution would be to turn it into toast points under beef and gravy, but I suspect even then the bread would refuse to yield to the moisture.

*sigh* I miss gluten.

More taekwondo tonight. I don’t generally go two nights in a row, but I’m going to miss tomorrow night (due to subbing in a dart league – stay tuned for whatever story comes out of that), and quite possibly I’ll miss on Thursday as well due to something niggling at my brain that I think I was supposed to do but I can’t remember what. I hope to remember by Thursday. If I don’t, I apologize in advance to you if it was your event I forgot to go to.

And it was, again, a great class. I had been getting bored by the end of last year but the changes they made this year have injected new life into class. I love using the new gear. I’m getting a better workout too. My abs still hurt from last Thursday’s crunches, I got a GREAT cardio workout yesterday sparring with my gear on, and then after tonight’s punching drill with gloves on I think I’m going to develop a massive left bicep.

Made it home in time for the State of the Union Address. I am so happy that I have never yet found reason to be upset with or disillusioned with our President. Maybe he hasn’t done everything every person had hoped he’d do, maybe he’s compromised in ways not everyone is happy with. But overall, I never ever get the feeling he is dishonest or underhanded or blatantly lying to our faces. I’m a good judge of character too, and while I always wish for the best in people, I am not naïve. I can almost always “feel” bad vibes from liars. I have a sixth sense and I know how to use it.

Anyway, I respect the office of President and I am proud of the man who occupies it today.

No comments, please. My left arm is tired, I don’t want to use it again on you.

Seriously, this blog is not a place for political debate. I get enough of that elsewhere. This blog is MY soapbox. Speaking of which, have you ever been to Hyde Park in London? Apparently Sundays were the day that people could come to the park with their soapbox and stand up on it and make their own proclamations. I may have my facts a bit wrong about that, maybe they could do it every day, I can’t remember. I’m too tired to go look it up. But I like the visual. I wonder if it was kinda like facebook, only louder?

mocats and my two cents worth

— January 23 —

No story today. Just pictures. Kind of a progression of how I play with apps, lol.

money to burn

Okay fine, I can find a story to tell.  I went to taekwondo class tonight. I thought it had been moved back a half hour, to accommodate the class ahead of mine being increased to an hour and a half. Turns out that low belt is still only an hour, so I was a half hour late. By the time I did my own warmup and stretches, I missed out on drills, and we went straight into sparring.

My first time, ever.

The whole night was a bit surreal, I felt like I was physically present and engaged, but emotionally detached. I wasn’t afraid of sparring like I had been in the past. The black belt who was “ringmaster” of our square (I forgot the proper term for it) gave me critique as if I’d been sparring awhile. I told him after class that it was my first time and he was surprised. Apparently I did well. I think it helps that I wasn’t already tired from drills.

I did hit my broken toe ever so softly the wrong way and it hurt inordinately much. I may get a pair of sparring boots just for a bit of added protection. I enjoyed the workout and appreciated that my partner didn’t overwhelm me, though she could have. All in all it was a positive experience.

Oh yeah, and I also watched Hoarders. What a scary show. I think I will throw away everything I own tomorrow. ~shudder~

A penny for your … effort

— January 22 —

Today’s picture triggers a little story that happened a few days ago.

I was at Target one evening, about a half hour before closing. Once I got inside I realized my lips were dry, so I reached into my pocket for my lip gloss, and in the process I knocked a coin out of my pocket. It sounded like a penny and so I almost kept on walking without looking at it. But curiosity got the best of me so I stopped and looked back. Sure enough, it was.

Now, I never bother to pick up a penny off the ground when I see one. I’ll always leave it for a little kid to get excited over. Sometimes I even drop or throw a few spare pennies I find in my pocket or purse onto the sidewalk, hoping it will make some little kid’s day.

But this one dropped out of my pocket while I was inside a store. I still considered just leaving it there, just walking on by, but something felt wrong about that. You don’t just drop things on the floor and leave them there when you’re shopping. I would have felt like a slob.

So I moved to pick it up, but before I could, a young boy of about ten or twelve, who was walking behind me with his family, jumped forward and picked it up and held it out for me.

I felt I could do nothing other than accept it from him and say thank you. After all, the boy was too old to get excited over a penny, right? But to take it from him made me feel like a stingy old miser.

So here’s how it went down. I dropped the penny. The boy picked it up for me. I accepted it with a thank you, and then after a moment I asked, “ya want it?” The boy hesitated only slightly and then said “Yeah!” I handed it to him and we both giggled. I walked away feeling generously silly, and he and his family chattered and laughed about it in Spanish so I don’t really know how he felt about the penny itself. But I assume he felt positive and it sort of made his day, like it did mine. Not for the value of the penny, but for the humanity of the exchange.

But in any case, it was one of those little human to human encounters that sort of added a little bit of sparkle to the rest of the evening.

i didn’t do what i set out to do.

— January 21 —

The story behind these pictures is one of indecision, lack of focus, disappointment and altered plans. And a decent night out anyway.

The afternoon started out with an impromptu committee meeting at a Starbucks across town.  Since I was already on that side of town, I went to the Party Store nearby to pick something up. Since I was already at the party store, I asked if they had a 60s costume. Since they offered me a significant discount on the costume, I bought it.

See, I was invited to a “Psychedelic Soiree” tonight, which was an art show/party at an artist’s studio. A guaranteed good time.

Since I was at the Party Store, I decided to go to a New Orleans themed restaurant nearby called Crawdaddy’s, because I don’t get to that side of town very often, or when I do, it’s after 2 and before 4 and they’re not open for for either lunch or dinner. Today, it was 6pm and they were sure to be open. I wasn’t going to eat much, I was just going to sit at the bar and nibble on red beans and rice.

It was terribly difficult to find a parking spot. I parked far away and walked through the snow to the restaurant, only to find when I got to the door that they were packed with parties waiting for tables, and even the bar was double-thick with people. So I left, disappointed.

The Thai place across the street wasn’t crowded. It’s always been my fall-back restaurant whenever I can’t get into Crawdaddy’s, which is always. But tonight, when I imagined what I might order, I remembered that I didn’t like their fresh spring roll sauce as much as some other spring-roll-serving places. I suddenly wanted really good fresh spring rolls very badly. So I headed to the one place I could think of whose spring rolls were consistently good — RuYi, inside the Potawatomi Bingo and Casino.

Talk about busy! Note to self: don’t go to a casino at 6pm on a Saturday night. But the spring rolls were great and I left happy. A bit hungry still, but happy.

I didn’t want to fight the traffic to the freeway so I drove east, toward the neighborhood where I’ve discovered a new favorite bar. It’s called the Bomb Shelter, and they recently made the list of top beer bars in the nation in DRAFT Magazine. They’re always tapping new beers, and since I recently read an article that asked whether beer really bothered gluten-intolerant people, I decided to test the theory and start drinking beer.

I had the Tallgrass Belgian Trippel, I forgot the actual name of it though. The tapper topper was a rooster.

I amused myself with my camera phone apps while I sipped my beer.

And then it was 7:30 and time for the Soiree to start, but I wasn’t dressed up for it even though I was already in the neighborhood of the studio. I consulted with the bartender what she would do if she were me: go to the party dressed as I was, or go home and change. She unanimously agreed that I should just go as I was. I said I didn’t know if I’d see any friends there. She said in that case I should have another beer and then go.

I didn’t want to pay for another beer, so I just left for the party. When I got there, I found it difficult to find a parking spot, again. I parked far away, again, and walked through the snow, again, to the door. On my way to the door, I passed several cute young things all dressed up for the Psychedelic Soiree, and by the time I got to the door, and saw the sign that said, “Dress accordingly!”, I chickened out and decided to go home and change first.

Except by this time I really had to go to the bathroom. I figured I’d quick jump on the highway and zip home and be to a toilet in ten minutes.

Except because I was thinking about how badly I had to use the bathroom, I accidentally got on the wrong on-ramp and went SOUTH.

So then I was in a bit of a bind, so I decided to get off at the next exit, in Bay View, and hit up a friendly establishment right off the road for el baño. I passed the Palomino and Club Garibaldi because I’d already settled my mind on a place called At Random, a great little old fashioned cocktail lounge where you can get huge ice cream drinks and imagine Frank Sinatra strolling past your table on his way to meet his Pack.

But it was difficult to find a parking spot nearby. So I finally found a parking spot far away, again, and walked through the snow again and got to the door and went in.

And there was a wait to get a table there, too!!

With no hostess in sight, all the bartenders busy, and a clump of people ready to jump me if I skipped ahead of them, I glanced around for the nearest facilities but only saw the one marked MEN. This was getting urgent.

So I left At Random, left my car parked down the street, walked through the snow another block east, and slipped into a place called the Cactus Club. I’d always seen in my friend Chelsea’s foursquare checkins that it was one of her favorite hangouts, so I figured I’d check it out. Since it was so close, and all. See what the ladies’ room looked like, at least.

The place was definitely much younger and grungier than I am, but the bartender was nice enough. I ordered a small cocktail in exchange for his not saying anything about me bolting in and making a beeline for the bathroom. I listened to a thirty-old-something guy try to pick up a twenty-young-something girl while I sipped my drink, and played with my apps some more.

I think this is such a cool image. It was an experimental mistake. I love it.

And then I left.

And went home to change.

And just stayed home.

I now own an unworn 60s Flower Power costume, deeply discounted.

an ex-spurt?

— January 20 —

I got kind of a cool little surprise yesterday when I logged into Foursquare.

So apparently I’m an “expert.” 450 people have done my tip and told Foursquare about it, which gave me credit. That’s pretty cool. What is the tip, you ask?

It’s a really good tip. I can see why people would do it.

Sucks that it’s only worth 5 points, though. They should reward me with a badge, or at least zoom me to the top of the leaderboard for the week.

Tyke One Doe

— January 19 —

I finally got back to TKD today.

I haven’t really been there since I broke my toe in October. I went maybe once after it started healing, but then the play took over and the Principal told me not to worry about class and just focus on what I needed to do elsewhere. Then I went back again maybe once or twice when I got back, maybe three times. Then the holiday came and they reduced their hours, and then I sliced my finger on New Years Day and fell into a funk and just didn’t go back.

So for the month of January I’ve been sitting in my house, growing a bad attitude. I’m tired. I don’t feel like going. It’s cold outside. I’m embarrassed. They’ve made too many changes, I’m scared. I don’t want to spend money on testing. My uniform is dirty. I don’t feel well. Etc.

And through the month of January my shoulder began hurting again from the accident. It made me mad for a lot of reasons having to do with my treatment after the accident, delays and feeling my pain was minimized and the ultimate settlement and stuff.

–Sidenote: about that “pain minimized” thing. I kept saying my shoulder hurt, but was never referred to physical therapy until about three months after the accident. My therapist was fantastic, and immediately explained to me why my doctor thought I was only just being a whiner and not taking me seriously. Apparently I’m a hyperflexible person (she proved it with 7 measurements of my flexibility), and with the accident I was reduced to only “normal” range of motion for most people. But MY range of motion was diminished, except nobody knew that until the injury had set and was too difficult to actually fix. So my doctor would look at me and have me move my arm and see nothing amiss and think I was just a whiner.

Sucks to be me.

So anyway, my shoulder started hurting for the past buncha weeks, corresponding with my falling off of TKD classes, and I knew in my heart that the only way to fix my shoulder pain was to start exercising regularly again. Plus I was only getting tireder and “fluffier.”

But “waah waah waah waah waah” went my attitude.

So today I kicked its butt. I went to class. I had a bad attitude going in, but I had a good attitude coming out. It was a great class, and I did some things well, got a few “attaboys,” and we spent the last twenty minutes learning some Eskrima. I love Eskrima.

The attaboys don’t really matter, I guess, but they’re nice because I am always feeling underestimated. So the attaboys I earn are not … patronizing … as in “you are fat girl so I think you be lazy unmotivated whiner unless I shout ‘YOU CAN DO IT’ in your ear the whole time.” I had one guy in class do that to me once. It pissed the hell outta me. These people do not know how competitive I am. I mean, I may actually be a whiner, but that’s supposed to be my secret. I’ll never let on. (Unless I write about it in my blog.)

Anyway, I digress. The attaboys are in context of my surpassing their expectations. Granted, their expectations of me are rather low, but that’s okay. At my level, that makes it easy to surpass them. And then I feel like I’ve earned them for what I’ve done, not endured them for who I am.

But I’m losing my own point here. I grew a bad attitude and I had to kick its butt to get rid of it.

Some of the changes instituted in the past month or two that were a bit of an obstacle:

1) Grandmaster is now teaching Monday night classes. While I know how wonderful it is for him to be there, I am afraid of him. Not afraid of him, but afraid of not living up to his expectations. It’s his school, after all. And I’ve passed half the belt levels, so it’s embarrassing to forget or be bad or weak at high green belt. I expect better of myself. Plus, he kicks our asses regularly. But all of that is a silly reason and I think I’ve gotten over it.

2) Class times have been increased from an hour to an hour and a half. Now when that was first announced I was actually looking forward to it. But after sitting on my butt for a month, I began to dislike the idea of jumping from zero to an hour and a half at high belt level. I wished there was an intermediate, “welcome back, we’ll be easy on you” level. But again, that was silly. Of course they’re not going to be easy on me. It’s TKD. If anything, they’ll be harder on me and make me learn my lesson for staying away. But they didn’t. Either that, or I didn’t lose as much stamina as I’d feared.

3) Required new hand guard equipment. Cost: $120. Required to bring sparring equipment to every class. Yeah, I didn’t like this. This new cost came at the absolute worst time for me, and the implication of bringing gloves and sparring gear to every class meant that our focus was shifting more into sparring, which I’ve done everything to avoid. I don’t want to spar. Not so much for fear of getting hurt, but mostly for fear of the reports of how utterly exhausted you get in those two minute sessions. I just don’t feel I’m up to it yet. Of course, getting to high green belt and “not feeling up to it” is kinda my own problem, isn’t it? It’s because I’ve been avoiding it that I’m not feeling up to it. So, there. That’s my answer.

After tonight, I feel like I want to try to go to class every night. I could really make progress if I did. Of course, you know I don’t really believe myself. Even if I did, I’ve got too many commitments on too many nights. CoPA board meetings and schmoozes, BVAG meetings, Writers Group meetings, plays and art shows I’m expected to attend, subbing on a dart team , dinner with my husband when I’m not busy doing the above.

But hey. I went tonight. I broke the long stretch of inaction. It feels good, like I knew that it would.

That’s all that matters at the moment, right?

A picture to end with:

The finger is mostly healed. But look! I slammed it against something today and bent the fingernail. That proves that it's the injured finger that always gets hurt ...

You can’t be Siri-us! (groan)

— January 18 —

Wow, I only took pictures of my dog today. I actually had a big energy burst this afternoon and got a bunch of stuff done, including putting a lot of stuff in the attic. It was good.

But I didn’t take any pictures of it, just of my dog this morning, snuggling with me while I had my coffee. So I guess I’ll go back through the photo album a few days and talk about Siri again. Because she really has a big problem with listening to me.

For instance. I was on my way to the baby shower and realized I didn’t know exactly where I was going. So I very clearly told Siri to text my son and say, “I forgot the invitation. What is the address?”

So she thought awhile, and then had her “aHA!” moment. “Shall I send this text?” she asked? I looked down and read it.

“I like it.”

I had to pull over and type in my real message manually.

And a few days before that, I wanted Siri to text my son and say,”Hey, are you around? I want to try to pay your tuition and I don’t know if I need you.”

But Siri decided to say, instead,

“Hey I am around you want is that you and I don’t know you.”

I have complained since I was a young girl that nobody listens to me. Siri just proves it.

But this little guy listens to me. Sometimes.

I’m all like this and I’m all like that …

— Jamuary 17 —

I feel like my energy is all jammed up lately. No motivation to do much of anything. I must take steps to remedy this, but I’m not quite sure what to do to get out of this funk.

Today, I did a few things but nothing of much consequence.

I made a berry smoothie, with fresh raspberries, blueberries and blackberries, and milk and agave syrup.

I didn’t realize it was supposed to snow again, so when I woke up (late) and looked outside I was surprised. I expected the dog to be surprised as well, so I took a picture of him the first time I let him out.

He didn’t seem too surprised about the snow. I wonder what dogs think when they are suddenly confronted by snow each season? Do they remember it from last year? Are they genetically programmed to take it in stride? Are they like us, and think, “Huh, it snowed again!” and just deal with it? I wish I knew.

He has been bugging me a lot lately, wanting to go outside and inside, wanting treats, whining, snuggling, etc. I figure I’m not being active enough for him these days, so today I finally took him for a real walk, not just the lazy version I’ve been getting away with lately. He was all excited. I was all afraid I’d hit some ice and fall. That’s why the picture is blurry … I’m paying more attention to where I’m stepping than where I’m aiming.

We saw some pretty Christmas lights in the snow, too, but I didn’t want to be all obvious about pointing my camera at the house. So I tried to be all not obvious. It wrecked the picture. I still think it looks like a bad 70s photo though, which makes it somehow artsy.

That’s it for pictures? Gosh I’ve been boring lately. I broiled some chicken breasts for dinner and ate it with rice and beans. Steam cleaned a portion of the kitchen floor. Finalized plans for an outing for the Bay View Arts Guild. Made a batch of SodaStream “Diet Dr. Pepper.” Watched television. Sat in a chair. Read the internet.

I need a job.

My son’s girlfriend came over and trimmed my bangs tonight. She’s going to school to be a hairdresser, but had to quit for awhile after she got pregnant. My son was friends with her before she got pregnant, and I know they liked each other but they weren’t really dating. He started dating her after she was already pregnant, so I’m in the sort-of weird position of trying to get into “grandma” mode of being a kind of “step-grandma,” and I’m having more difficulty with it than I expected. Because they’ve only been dating a few months, I don’t want to be all “if you’re going to be involved in this kid’s life then you’ve got to make sure you’re serious about her,” because that’s too much pressure for someone who isn’t ready for that step. He’s at the very least helping his friend out, and if it turns out to be a long-term relationship, great! But they shouldn’t go into it expecting more than what should be expected of a relationship that is only a few months old. So anyway, I feel like if I knew they were committed to each other I could welcome the child as a grandson, but since the relationship is so new I feel a bit lost about who I will be to the child.

I like babies, but I never actually looked forward to grandchildren, at least not yet. So … I’m open and ready to welcome this child as a grandma, but my emotions are a bit jumbled about all the unknowns involved. I keep thinking about how the child is not my blood relation, and for that to even be a thought in my head completely appalls me about myself. It shouldn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, so I don’t know why it seems to be an emotional question for me. I am quite sure that once I meet the child, I will fall in love with him. But I think the problem is, if it was my blood relation, then I’d always be grandma, always and forever. But since it’s not, there’s a chance that someday I won’t.

I may have just hit on the reason I’m in a funk. Well, that, and another huge worry about, umm, we’ll just call it “the economy.”

And with that I’m done talking.