Irritating trend of the day

Restaurants who bend over backward to ask "Does anyone in the party have any food allergies or restrictions we should know about?"

I'm irritated by this for a couple of reasons:

1) I really don't like ratings/money-getting tactics that are so thinly disguised as genuine concern and care for the customer, like a local real estate developer who noted that "we did our research and determined that we could better serve the community by converting this new housing complex to rental apartments rather than selling them as condos" (as they'd originally planned. Better "serve the community" (by offering luxury rentals) or "not lose tons of money on our investment"?

2) Are we, as a people, SO unable to take responsibility for our own well-being that we need a waiter to remind us of our dietary restrictions? What's next, 'Is anyone here on a blood thinner called warfarin? Because if so, I'll let the chef know to pick out the spinach for you." I can MAYbe see this as a good practice at a place that catered to kids or families with kids because, well, I'd imagine that sometimes parent's brains can get a little fried after a long day, and this could be a helpful memory jogger ("Oh crap- I almost forgot that Lexi will go into anaphylaxis if she eats soy..."). That being said, I should clarify that I'm referring to this practice in restaurants that in no way cater to kids.

3) This just seems like the kind of activity that will someday lead to a human being muttering the words, "Well Hank, he said 'warfarin' how was I to know he was talking about my coumadin?!?" (while trying to harness the blood flow from a paper cut)


4) But mostly I'm irritated by this practice because lately I've seen a lot of restaurants that people are calling "good" doing this. As if it's some sort of indicator of "whoa- hold on to your seat, this food is going to be fantastic because this is a fancy, progressive, cutting edge type of place!" and you're starting to buy into that idea because the decor is classy and the people are attractive (for DC at least) and the music makes you happy....and then the actual food is A-OK. I don't say "bad" because, well, its not really bad food, just not good enough to merit a popular buzz and or jacked up prices.

I suppose if that's all that is bothering me this week, I'm doing pretty well.

Now I just have to convince my dog...

...that I am a Benevolent Leader.

I want some Sky Blue Waters. I want some Cool Enchantment.

But I don't know where to find it!?! Does anyone know where I can get some Hamm's Beer these days? Preferably in the Greater DC metro area?!?


I'm assuming that if it is still in production that it is brewed by Miller, Coors or Bud. Does anyone make it at all? I so wish THIS was the beer that got all hip and cool instead of PBR.... that would have ensured its longevity....

I have a sad suspicion that it might be extinct, but I will wait, with guarded optimism, for any advice or tips.

202

I have a family friend who works at the White House. When he calls, my cell phone just says "202" (the area code for Washington D.C.). I just think that's cool.


Wouldn't be nearly as fun if it said "301" in your phone when I called you from work, would it?

A post that is a long time coming.

I've been meaning to make a post lately entitled, "I hate Flash" or "If you have a flash based web site, I probably hate it." But everytime I find a doozy of a Flash nightmare, I usually end up so irritated and head-achey that blogging is the last thing I want to do.


So--- I have a big announcement. Today, for the first time, I found a flash site that is actually... quite fantastic!

It actually has NAVIGATION (which apparently is something some web designers think they are too cool for?)and uses flash animation in a way that enhances the site WITHOUT interfering in its functionality.

And guess what? Its a GOVERNMENT site! So, huzzah and kudos to the Department of Health and Human Services, for putting out an excellent example of how to use Flash for Good instead of Evil.

Ironically, it was Microsoft who put together this EVIL, EVIL Flash site which makes me want to bang my head on a wall.

I mean, I guess if you're into the pseudo-dominatrix Librarian with a horse whip type of thing, this might get you a little excited about your next web search. But for the rest of us, this is just a flagrant misuse of "fancy." I don't know if I should be offended by, or just plain angry at "Ms. Dewey". Is it just me, or does she remind you of your really cool guy friend's new girlfriend? And he's all into her at first, because she's pretty, but you KNOW that she's going to be THAT girl who drives everyone crazy and slowly wedges herself between him and all of his friends because she is so needy, jealous and childish? And you really want to tell him, but you can't because you're trying to be more supportive and less cynical?

No? It's just me? Why do I hate her so much? Is it the over the top flash that interferes with the sites usability? Is it the fact that you really have no idea what the site... IS or DOES (it is a search engine)? Is it the insanely uncontrollable scrolling that you have to endure to browse your search results? Just a bad actress? Whatever it is, I no likey.

The mean streets of DC...

I got this via an e-mail forward today. I'm off to Chicago for a conference, otherwise I'd look into it further. Can anyone confirm or dispute these figures? At first glance, I think it might be comparing a monthly stat to an annual statistic...



Subject: Death rate in DC

Regardless of where you stand on the issue of U.S. involvement in Iraq,
here's a sobering statistic:

There has been a monthly average of 160,000 troops in the Iraq theatre
of operations during the last 22 months and a total of 2,112 deaths. That
gives a firearm death rate of 60 per 100,000 soldiers.

The firearm death rate in Washington D.C. is 80.6 per 100,000 persons,
for the same time period, 22 months.

That means that you are about 25% more likely to be shot and killed in
the Capital of the United States, than you are in Iraq.

And we cant have a gun legally in the District!





PS--- the last line isn't *entirely* true... we can have shotguns.

Overdue for a lightening round

Lately I've been feeling a lot of thank-you-note-feelings toward blogging. The kind of feeling that you get when you haven't done something for so long, and you know you should (in the case of thank you notes) or want to (in the case of blogging) but you've put it off for so long that you feel like you need some really compelling opening line to kick it all off again.

Eh- I have no opening line. But I did send off about 14 thank you notes yesterday, so I'm feeling quite excellent about THAT.

Life has been fast in the last year. Strangely, wonderfully, horribly fast. I've learned that time flies when you're having fun. And equally fast when you're not. I don't remember what its like to have time move slowly. (I take that back. Time spent jogging and riding my bike on its trainer in my living room is slow time. Minutes are twice as long in these situations. I refer to this as 'treadmill time'.) My hair is getting grayer faster. The skin on my face, especially under my eyes, is getting thinner and more paper-like. It's happening so fast that I can I see it changing.

So here are some thoughts n' things that have been going on in-between the objetos de la vida mas grande:

• I've always thought it would be fun to be the kind of person who makes up phrases in foreign languages, then uses them in italics.
  
  
• My husband told me the other night that he’s breaking up with the dog. He maintains that they’re in a fight. Not growing up with pets, I think he’s having a hard time accepting the fact that she only *really* loves him (or me for that matter) for what he can give her (scraps and walks!) and not who he is as a person. Until now, she’s done a stand-up job of convincing him that she, as a dog, is capable of human-like emotion, reasoning and compassion. The good news is, we both still enjoy playing pranks and practical jokes on her. I figure that since she isn't a human child, it's fine to have fun at her expense. Right?
  
  
• My sister and my aunt came to visit last weekend and it was GREAT. Fabulous trips to the White House and dining (oy! and wining!) at the Willard didn’t hurt, but we would have had a nice time regardless.
  
  
• I’m noticing an extremely reduced ability to tolerate annoying restaurant servers. Seriously. I should be required to wear some sort of badge, tag or other identifiable warning device..
  
  
• I found a great indoor pool which is on my way home from work. And FREE for DC residents (a community recreation center) Good-BYE 5:30 AM groups swims in Georgetown! We still try to make it, but just knowing that I could just as easily hit the pool at a civilized hour later in the day makes Monday nights (and Tuesday Mornings) much more friendly. The most outstanding part of the pool- every time I’ve been between the hours of around 6-8 PM there have been at least two lanes totally open. It’s a ghost town during what I would think would be peak use hours. Hopefully there isn’t something wrong with the pool there that everyone but me knows about... Oh crap, now I’m nervous.
  
  
• For fun, I recommend peppering your day-to-day conversations with "oh crap..." spoken with a slight twinge of Minnesota-nice a la Kristen Dunst in Drop Dead Gorgeous.
  
  
• If you feel like laughing at someone rich and famous, and Lindsey Lohan just won't do the trick, head to your nearest Starbucks and check out the Paul McCartney CD. I guess when you get to a certain point in your career, you can override any sensible publicist’s veto of an album photo, but seriously Paul, if I thought you had bad judgment a few years ago for not getting a pre-nup with Heather, this just proves to me that you’re in fact, a total spaz. When I look at this photo, the first thing that I hear in my mind’s eat is “ ‘ello Govna’!” in a excruciatingly Tiny Tim-like cockney accent. What do you hear?
  
  
• I think that a lady who lives a few houses down from us instantly wrote us off as worthless yuppie gentrifiers who’d be the death of all things community oriented and fabulous through her eyes (of an aging hippie wannabe save the world greener type—which is what I wrote HER off as) as soon as we mentioned, in passing, that we were training for a triathlon. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I could SEE in her eyes that her mind was saying “Grand. Just what we need. More of YOU types….” Now every time I see her I want to run up to her, tell her I’m a do-gooder type too AND from Seattle, and that aught to get me SOME sort of blue-state street ‘cred. But I haven't.
  

Donuts

http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/photos/dailydozen/


I love DC, but watching this photo montage made me suddenly so homesick, and ache a little for Seattle. If you've had them, you'll "get" it.






Not much more to report just yet. I'm on jury duty this week (as in, yes, I'm actually on a trial) and I can't talk about the case until it's over...

Gitty. Up.

Tomorrow marks the first 5:30 AM group swim in the Georgetown pool for Team in Training. Wish me luck....



PS- Went for a bike ride along the Capitol Crescent Trail yesterday. It reminded me why I like cycling so much. Had to remind myself to keep my "Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!" to an inside-voice.

Training update

I went for my first post-crash ride this weekend... and happy to report no major injuries! (Though I was pretty certain I was going to die in a car wreck for about 20 seconds when we got stuck on Rock Creek Parkway. As in- the actual parkway with crazy drivers flying around corners, not the nearby multi-use trail...)

Did have a little impromptu road-side marriage counseling session though, which was fun. J and I worked out the finer points of my request to him to give me a warning or tell me if/when I was going to stop (simply so that I might avoid careening into him and injuring both of us, as I can not, in fact, see through him). Unbeknownst to me, when the words "Hey- can you please tell me when you're going to stop?" come out of my mouth they somehow morph into "Jesus Christ?!? Why the hell can't you tell me before you stop god damn it?!?!"

I'm sure the people walking past us with their children had a nice time explaining that "when a husband and a wife really love each other, sometimes they have to talk to each other in loud, abrupt sentences. They also sometimes like to remind each other that Jesus is the lord!"


Annnyway... our official team training doesn't kick off until next week, when we will be subject to group swims at.... (roll the drum, crack the whip).... FIVE THIRTY IN THE MORNING every Tuesday!

As my grandmother used to say (among many other colorful phrases): "Eee Gads!"


If you'd like to make a donation to support my participation in Team in Training, and haven't had a chance to do it yet, here's the link : http://www.active.com/donate/tntnca04/Gina

(you know, just in case you didn't know how to find the page etc).

Thanks to everyone who has donated already- I'm amazed by your generosity and spirit of giving!!

Darn that head injury...

Bah! I just realized that I referenced my head bump in my last post, but had not yet provided any background info on said head smush. Perhaps I'm still forgetful?

Here it is:

J and I decided to go out for a bike ride last Sunday, to kick off our training for this triathlon in September. We found a good route on a cycling web site- it was a 25 mile loop on the outskirts of the beltway that passed through a wildlife reserve. We took our bikes on the metro to the end of the green line and started from there. All was well until about mile 15, when I guess I got a tire off the pavement or something, and fell. Crashing my big head right into the pavement. I don't remember much of the next, oh, 5 hours, but he somehow got me to the hospital (an elderly couple driving by offered to give me a ride back to the metro, and he rode his bike back - when he got to the metro, they were still there and they told him "She's a little loopy" I don't recall this AT ALL, so I'm wondering what I was talking about...). Anyway- went to the hospital, got a CT scan x-rays etc. I had a concussion, but nothing else major. J says that I was on a 30 second loop, asking the same questions over and over when we got to the hospital:


"Are you back from Iraq?!?? Oh- yay!"

" ..... Is that a new purse? Ooooo... I love it!..... (I'd just bought it on Saturday afternoon)

"Did I crash on my new bike? Oh Man- that sucks!"

...then I would look at my scrapes and cuts and say "whoa! Look at these!" And 30 seconds later, I'd do it all over again; he said it was like 50 First Dates.


My helmet is cracked down the middle, so thank god I was wearing it. And after telling this story to a few people and hearing back "Oh- that's a good reminder- I need to get a helmet, I ride my bike all the time without one" I have new mission in life: to be the bike helmet Nazi!!


Seriously, I'd probably be disabled for life- if not dead- right now if I didn't have that thing on my head. Even with it on, it knocked me off my feet for two days. I wasn't going fast or doing anything extraordinary, no hills, no speed; just out for a ride on a nice sunny day.

Just my head on the black-top.



Anyway- long story short: Bike helmets rock.

Just when you're wondering how to get some Alan Thicke back into your life...

Who has time for blogging on days that are full of travel and sunshine? Not I.

So here's a quick recap:

1) I think my brain is healing from its bruise, thought I'm still using that as an excuse for any/all flighty behavior or forgetfullness.

2) Made a quick trip to Seattle and back this past weekend to arrange some wedding details. Got a lot accomplished, and I'm getting more and more excited about bringing a bunch of non-northwestern types into upper Kittitas County. Should be funny; for me at least...

3) Been trying to run a little bit here and there, as this is my least favorite part of the triathlon concept. Speaking of the triathlon; a big THANK YOU to all who have made donations! I am going to work hard to make you all proud (ie. finish the race). If you still want to support my participation in Team in Training, it's not too late! You can even make your donations online!

4) Discovered this little gem on the interweb gem today. Enjoy!

I've got my bike back, now it's time to ride!

Hello everyone! When I got my bike back, I promised myself that I would do a century ride (100 miles) this summer. I've been looking for good rides to train for, and in the process, discovered Team in Training. Long story short, I decided to bite the bullet and not just train for a bike ride, but another triathlon- and this time, Olympic distance! I don't know what's more intimidating- training to Swim 1.5K, then ride 40K, then run 10K (all in one day! In a hurry!) OR raise the $2400 minimum fund raising goal...


I think I've got my work cut out for me! One thing is certain- I need to work out more and get into better shape, and experience has taught me that being accountable to someone or something is my best motivator. And having that something be a fund raiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society is a pretty good "something." Right as I was looking for events to train for, I learned that my best friend from 8th grade's mom just passed away, after what sounded like a pretty intense battle with Leukemia. She was the kind of lady I wish I would have known better. In Jr. High she seemed like one of those moms who was hip and with it, and knew everything cool and current, but also a savvy woman- a real grown-up type mom. Like the best aspects of a lot of different moms all in one person. And that was just totally intimidating to me at the time- because clearly I was an idiot (a state that I am slowly trying to work my way out of... one step at a time). Anyway, it was a reminder that blood cancers are a very real, and that organizations that try to find a cure for them are doing the right thing.

If I can get in triathlon shape, the 100 mile century ride should be easy enough to accomplish a few weeks later. After all, I've got a pretty nice bike.

J and I are doing this together, so keep your eyes peeled for a super-fit new version of us, coming to a neighborhood near you... summer 2007.


So- do you want to donate?? Please? It's easy, tax deductible and you can do it RIGHT NOW!!

Here's the link! www.active.com/donate/tntnca04/Gina

If you'd like to make a significant donation, I'm happy to entertain the idea of a sponsorship. I'll wear a sign that says just about anything if the price is right...

Chapter 2 of Nancy Drew Gina Grace and the Missing Green Road Bike

continued from yesterday's adventure...

When we left off, I had just received no help at all from either the police or my insurance company in providing me back up as I attempted to recover my stolen bike from the thief.

A few hours into the afternoon, I got a call from the seller. I was hoping that he could hear me trembling with fear over the phone line. We figured out that he was coming from Maryland, and that he would be willing to come into DC that evening to show me the bike. At one point, I very nearly forgot that I wasn’t ACTUALLY interested in buying this bike and almost gave him my address, as he was seeming to be a nice enough guy. But my better senses kicked in just in time, and I told him to meet me at an elementary school off of Rhode Island Avenue, around 6:45 or 7PM.

Because my strong and fearless husband was now out of town for the next three days, I called on the support of my friends to serve as beefy back up. “Woody” and “Putty” were my back up guys, and they agreed to meet me at my house at 6:30 PM so we could stake out the meeting place in advance and develop a strategy.

I still had hope that I might be able to get some sort of help from the police, so instead of taking my usual route when walking Daphne that evening, I walked her to the metro station where there seems to permanently be at least on police officer on duty, surveying the scene. Always the ambassador of good will, Daphne helped me to immediately build rapport with the officer there. He was originally from North Carolina, and clearly a dog person. I told him my situation and he was eager to help- though he couldn’t himself leave his existing post. He called for the support of any other officers in the area, and within 15 minutes, I had two new officers to which I had to explain the situation. All were skeptical. I was clearly the only one convinced that this bike for sale was, in fact, the bike that was stolen from me only two days earlier. Never mind the fact that there was already a copy of my bill of sale, (containing the serial number) on file at the station with my initial police report. I didn’t have it in my hand, so it was apparently a moot point. I went home to produce the paperwork, now only 5 minutes from my scheduled meeting time with the shady salesman.

By the time I handed over my paperwork, the officer was finally coming around to believing that this very likely could have been my bike, and I could see cop adrenaline starting to flow at the thought of capturing the bad guy.

I asked him to wait around the corner from the school, while Woody and Putty waited in their car, parked on the street in front of the school. I sat on the front steps of the elementary school. The landscape around me suddenly became a real-life Where’s Waldo scene, where instead of finding a guy in a red striped shirt, I was finding police cars. I was finding them everywhere, in parks, around corners, in parking lots, driving down adjacent streets. And they were all pointing at me. And I waited. And waited. And waited some more. It was now about 7:40, and I was starting to develop a plan of how I was going to get out of this without looking like a complete idiot in the event that he was a no-show. And then he called. He was a little lost and about 4 blocks away. He was going to park his car there since he found a spot, then ride the bike to the school.

So I kept waiting, trying to get into “character.” I was looking to buy a road bike from an online seller. I was willing to pay the asking price of $600. I was a girl, alone in a school yard, with 6 hypothetical $100 bills in my pocket. And he may have been planning to show up, steal my hypothetical money, then kill me. Before I could imagine what he was going to do with my body, and how horrifying and life-altering it would be for the poor child who discovered my half buried corps in the sand box while on recess, I had my cell phone at the ready and was calling Woody to come wait with me. I mean, he wouldn’t have time to kill us BOTH before the cops got there, right?

Shortly after Woody got out of the car to meet me, the Salesman arrived, wobbling down the sidewalk on my bike. Watching him try to ride it with my clipless peddles, served as some much needed comic relief.

I introduced myself, smiled and shook his hand. I tried to make “normal” small talk and asked him how old the bike was. He thought it was about two years old. Yeah… two years cause he bought it at a garage sale about two years ago. And he paid like, $850 for it at the time.

I refrained from telling him that he was sure lucky to have taken that much cash with him when he went garage-saleing that day.

I took the bike for a “test ride” around the corner, where in full view of the police officer, I turned the bike upside down and inspected the serial number. I gave him the thumbs up, and turned it back upright, and heading back toward him. Before I could turn the peddles twice, the guy was being surrounded by 4 officers. I think I heard a “You! Stay right there! You’re under arrest for…..”

There were zip ties, Miranda rights, questions for me with my answers hastily scribbled on note pads, just like in the movies. Photos taken of the bike in various positions etc.

Lots of smiles and cheers on one side of the street, and surely lots of anger, embarrassment and frustration on the other.

It’s still in pretty good shape, but has some new scratches and bruises. So I’d say its resale value went down. It was probably thrown in the back of a truck/van though, so I’m going to have it checked out to make sure the only damages are cosmetic. He also took off my bumble bee saddle bag, which was one of my favorite parts of the bike. Yes, I bought it off the clearance rack in the kid’s bike section of Target for about 2 dollars, but it had an emotional value…. And also contained a not so cheap bike multi tool and repair kit.

I have to give a nod of thanks to the police officers for having a lot of tact in the whole situation (after they started believing me of course) in that as soon as I got on the bike, I had no further interaction with the guy, and was not even close enough to make eye contact with him. This was a good thing, as if I were close enough I probably would have told him I was really sorry for getting him in so much trouble, and that I was sure he just really needed the money, and that I really just needed my bike back. What the heck is wrong with me?? Still kind of wondering why I feel so bad for getting this guy in trouble. Must be some sort of modified Stockholm Syndrome. But I’m getting over it, and I’m happy to have my bike back. But most of all, I’m happy that I got something back! After having quite a theft prone year, it’s nice to know that the bad guys don’t always win in the end. And I’m glad I tipped off the police about this little thing called the internet, where people can anonymously sell things that may or may not be theirs to sell.

But the best part of the whole ordeal (besides getting my bike back) was toward the end when head police officer guy looked over at me and said, (and I’m not even paraphrasing): “Ma'am" that was some excellent detective work.”

Case closed.

Nancy Drew Gina Grace and the Missing Green Road Bike

Chapter 1: Channeling my inner Nancy Drew.

I’ve always been a card carrying member of the Red Headed Brigade (an imaginary undground network developed and maintained for and by the red-headed community…) but every once in a while I really see the strength of my titian hair surface in my day-to-day life. Yesterday was one such day.

This Saturday morning, I woke up on the early side (for me at least, would have been sleeping in from the perspective of some people. Kelly.) to have breakfast and make it to the 10:30AM spinning class at the YMCA in Dupont Circle. It’s walking distance from our apartment, but much quicker to bike. So I rode my bike the 7 or 8 blocks and parked it on the bike rack in front of the building. It was a bright and sunny day and I was feeling proud of myself for actually getting out of the house before I could get sucked into the home improvement show marathon that would surely be starting up on TLC.

After a grueling 45 minute class, I grabbed my bike helmet and pack from my locker and headed for home.

But my ride was nowhere to be found. Gone. And another bike already in its place, locked securely to the same fixture to which I had so recently locked my bike.

>insert fiery red-head scene of anger and frustration here<

Being at this point, a seasoned veteran of theft victimization, I methodically initiated the usual routine. Call the police. Call the insurance company. Look through the filing cabinet to find the originally sales receipt, invoice, owner’s manual and other documents that can help to prove ownership. Call the police back with the serial number and explain the whole story to the new person on the phone. Be angry. Grieve.

Cut to Monday morning. I was up and getting ready for work and while brushing my teeth, remembered that I wanted to check Craigslist to see if my bike was for sale. I knew the odds were slim, I mean, what kind of idiot would steal a bike, them post photos of it for sale the next day, in the same city? But I suppose it was part of my grieving process. I needed to try. I wasn’t ready to let go.

I was already running late, but I fired up my laptop while waiting for the iron to heat up and typed “cannondale” into the DC “wanted/for sale” search box.

On top of the list there was a heading of “Cannondale R500”… No way…. Click.

There was my bike!

So I called the police non-emergency number and they sent over an officer to help me figure out what to do. An hour later an officer showed up and I told her that my stolen bike was listed for sale on Craigslist.

“Where is that store?” she asked.

“It’s an online classified service. It’s only online.” I explain.

Blank look

“It’s kind of like eBay.” My clever husband ingeniously chimes in.

After explaining the concept of the World Wide Web to this officer (leaving out Al Gore’s significant role as inventor for the sake of brevity), she called a detective at the station for advice.

After an annoyingly long three way conversation, characterized with copious miscommunication between all parties I had my verdict: because we couldn’t see the serial numbers in the photos, there was no way to prove that the bike was mine (never mind the fact that it had my air pump, my pedals, my saddle…). She advised me that my only option would be to contact the seller and arrange a time to look at the bike. Once I saw it and could identify the serial number, I could call 911 and explain that I was witnessing my stolen property, then wait with the seller/thief for the police to arrive.

>insert eye roll here<

I went to work and could think of little other than my bike and how exactly I was to get it back. Not wanting the bike to be sold from under me, I e-mailed and called the seller, leaving him a message of how interested I was in the bike, and that I really wanted to try it out ASAP.

*By the way, his voice mail greeting was “You know who it is. Drop it after the beep.” Clearly an avid cyclist*

I churned ideas around with some friends at work, everyone eager to help solve the crime. I called the insurance company to see if they had any ideas- after all, they have a vested interest in this bike too. The claims person also had no idea what craigslist was, but barely understood the comparison to Ebay. . In other words, he wasn’t much help and didn’t offer any advice other than “I’ll refer this to a Senior Claims agent, she’ll get in touch with you within a few days.”

Am I alone in thinking that police and insurance adjusters should really get ON this apparently untapped clearinghouse for stolen goods??

Humph. No help from the police or the insurance company. And because the previously ingenious husband was going out of town that afternoon for two days for some conference or meeting-type thingy, I’m flying solo on this bike recovery mission….

Stay tuned for the next chapter of Nancy Drew Gina Grace and the Missing Green Road Bike…. (because I don’t have time to finish it right now…. Sorry!)

Presenting... The Most Interesting Thing I've Read All Day:

...from Wikipedia under the listing for "Red Hair:Biochemistry and Genetics":

"There is some indication that the uncommon pheomelanin/eumelanin ratios found in redheads may be correlated with some corresponding variations in the abundance of other hormones and neuropeptides, including epinephrine (adrenaline), dopamine, and oxytocin. Wolves which are bred to be tame have been found to acquire a progressively paler coat of fur as they become tamer and tamer through successive generations. The speculation is that the cell biology which produces epinephrine (adrenaline) needed for the high-energy fight-or-flight response is linked to the cell biology that governs the relative production of pheomelanin and eumelanin. This finding might explain why redheads are often characterized as having a distinct temperament compared to the rest of the population. This finding might also explain why redheads appear to be over-represented in breakthroughs in the cerebral arts. Socrates, Galileo, and Darwin were redheads, as were Vincent Van Gogh, Mark Twain, and JK Rowling. Redheads also appear to be over-represented in comedy, as well. "




For being a completely un-cited source, I found it amazingly insightful.

A non-celebrity endorsement

I know this sounds like spam, but I in all honesty, I just found the greatest web site. It's www.kayak.com It's a travel web site that is only a search database, so it while it does not sell you tickets directly, it searches all of the search-and-sell sites, AND the individual airlines Web site's prices as well. So--- if it finds you a flight on United, it links you right to the United.com site, where you then buy the ticket. I guess it makes money on your clicks rather than on service charges.

I heart it.


And its got cool features like slider time preference bars so you can limit your flights to certain times AFTER you've seen the whole pot of flights. It even has fun graphs of historical prices of your itinerary over the past several weeks, so you can see if you're buying at a relatively high or low price time.

Anywho- I'm going to be traveling quite a bit for work over the coming months, so I'm excited about this new discovery. However- I am not being paid to rave about this great resources, Sooo... I will end it at that.

Me in pictures

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Where have I been all my life?

Oye! I've been assigned jobs and didn't even know it, as I've been sucked into the vortex of looking for a house while simultaneously planning a wedding: a state of mind where no other reality exists!

Here's my tasking from Lisaopolis, which originated in Zimmerhouse... and I'm finally gettin' around to it.

I’d love to tag others, but since the only bloggers I really KNOW, have tagged this to moi, I really can’t. Shucks.

10) Favorites
COLOR: Can’t pick one. green, blue, orange.
FOOD: club sandwiches on toasted white bread rule.
MONTH: July, but not necessarily July in DC.
SONG: If I HAD to, Had, to had to pick one, the only one that consistently makes me happy- as in every SINGLE time I hear it, I want to stop what I’m doing to listen is Dave Mathews Band’s “Crush”
MOVIE: Oh fer Jeeez, I can’ pick just one.
SPORT: Any equestrian sports. Or Cougar Football.
SEASON: Spring- but maybe that’s just because I’m looking forward to it now.
DAY OF THE WEEK: Friday
ICE CREAM FLAVOR: thin mint girl scout cookie from Dryers/Edy’s
TIME OF DAY: 5PM

9) Currents:
MOOD: anxious
CLOTHES: Navy sailor-front pants and a purple sweater
TASTE: like taste in my mouth? Lean Cuisine. Taste as in personal taste? Classic. (duh)
TOENAIL COLOR: hot pink and needing attention.
TIME: almost 3PM
SURROUNDINGS: I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.
THOUGHTS: I don’t want to give up blogging, but I realize Ginapalooza is needing some major life support.
WONDERINGS: Is she going to accept our offer??(that we put on a house on Saturday)

8) First:
BEST FRIEND: Elisha T, my neighbor in then-Redmond. We made lots of forts and did lots of plays/puppet shows etc.

KISS: Brian H. I was 16, and way too old for my first kiss, but it was pretty rad.

SCREEN NAME: Ginawsu
PET: Peaches the white rabbit.
PIERCING: Ears. One each.
CRUSH: There was a boy in my 3^rd grade class named Brady that I “went with” for about three hours. I must have had a crush on him, though I remember having absolutely NO control over the creation and subsequent dissolution of the relationship, so I think it was more orchestrated by my (by then) friend Marilyn, who had a major crush on HIS best friend.
HOME LOCATION: Bellevue, WA

7 Lasts:
CIGARETTE: Kappa Delta Senior dance, 1998. My junior year. Had just broken up with long term BF, (see#8, item 2) and discovering this whole new fabulous thing called “Being single and available” which involved learning that yes, in fact, I did have it goin’ ON (see #10, item 4). Got set up with a no-love-connection date and drank copious amounts of Captain Morgan. The last thing I remember was standing in the “smoker” of ATO’s (my date was an AGR- I don’t know what happened to him) and taking drags off of Marlboro Reds like I’d been doing it since childhood.
DRINK: Saturday evening, drowning my sorrows after the WSU/Vandy game.
KISS: this morning, as I was half-sleep walking into the shower, and gallant husband was leaving for work. Hadn’t really opened my eyes yet, so I can’t be 100% certain that it was him.
MOVIE SEEN AT THE MOVIE THEATER: Premonition. I highly recommend NOT seeing it. Very disappointed in Sandy Bollocks.
PHONE CALL: husband.
CD PLAYED: “This I Believe” essays from NPR that Anne got me for Christmas. Been listening in the car.
GIFT RECEIVED: Mom and Dad bought us dinner last night when they were in town.

6:
HAVE YOU EVER DATED ONE OF YOUR BEST FRIENDS? I did have an awkward make-out with Mitch in high school, and we were really good friends-only until then. (it was during the first of many temporary break-ups with #8 item 2) But other than that, no. I’d love to say that I’m currently married to my best friend, but we were way “more than friends” for quite some time before we actually became friends.
BEEN ARRESTED: never
BROKEN THE LAW: probably
SKINNY DIPPED: I think I have, but only with family. Wait… that sounds weird. I’m generally not a fan.
BEEN ON TV: I think I was on a short interview clip on the news when there was a bomb threat in Bellevue across the street from my office. The net result to me was a delay in being able to get to my car to go home. I said as much, and they put it on the damned news…
KISSED SOMEONE YOU DIDN'T KNOW: Yes.

5:
THINGS YOU'VE EATEN TODAY: coffee, string cheese, Lean Cuisine (acorn squash ravioli- my fave), coffee yogurt, two mini Hershey chocolate things from co-workers candy basket on her desk that I have to walk by over and over…
YOU'VE DONE TODAY: got up, drove to work while eating string cheese and drinking coffee, worked, felt bad about not blogging…

YOU CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT: Besides many people, Daphne and the thought of moving into a bigger place soon.
YOU CAN HEAR RIGHT NOW: not much.
YOU DO WHEN YOU GET BORED: Look for houses online.
4:
PLACES YOU'VE BEEN TODAY: my apartment, my car, my office.

3:
PEOPLE YOU CAN TELL ANYTHING TO: Beth, Allison, Husband, but primarily Daphne…

2 Choices:
a. BLACK OR WHITE : black.
b. HOT OR COLD: eh?

1. THING YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
Produce little people in my likeness, watch them grow up and do the same. Own a horse. Own a damned house.

Answers

The Book: Everthing Is Illuminated

Yeah, I'm in a book club. It does wonders for the volume of literature and wine I consume on a monthly basis.

Was in Atlanta for a 30 minute layover coming from Miami home to DC. But the DC area was all closed down becuase of "ice" (which never actually materialized). Kind of wished they would have told us that all of the DC airports were closed before we left Miami, as it might have been nice to spend an extra day there with the new fam, but instead we became well aquainted with the Atlanta Airport Hyatt Place hotel. Which we had to pay for ourselves. Hey Delta Airlines, stay classy!

The Clinton Street Baking Company is at 4 Clinton Street (between East Houston & Stanton), New York, NY 10002. D'lish.

Ginapalooza Lightening Round!

• 4 out of 4 Registered Dietitians (in my office) agree with the following statement:

“I’ve tried to like Kashi. Really, I have. But it’s gross.”

If you have to get stuck for over 28 hours in the deep south, make it Atlanta Georgia. Seriously home to the nicest people in the world. Including the lost luggage attendants at the airport.

It’s a weird feeling when you show up to Book Club having just finished what you now consider one of the best books you’ve ever read, with a writing style that make you want to wrap up each word in pretty paper and put it under your pillow, only to find out that everyone else totally hated it, and thought the writing style sucked.

Simmering equal parts of maple syrup and heavy cream, then pouring that over blueberry pancakes from the Clinton Street Bakery in SOHO is among the handful of earthy experiences that I classify under the “brought me closer to God” category.

And cripes, that’s all I’ve got time for. Really I should wait to post this until its chalked full of exciting things, but at this rate, that might another several months. Hoping to add more soon…

Back to normal-like life

I could say that I’ve been too busy to write, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Why just the other day, I spent a good 45 minutes reflecting on the inherent humor of growing up in the 90’s, and web researching the whereabouts of the actress that played Kimmy Giber on TV’s Full House. Which lead me to the discovery that Jody Sweetin (ie Stephanie Tanner) was almost a child star-turned normal, happy, functioning member of society before a little tousle with methamphetamines. Sounds like she’s getting back on track which is well- just impressive. Good for her. As I recall from my days in the public health “trenches,” that stuff is capital B-A-D and can really mess a person up. Come to think of it, these are the kind of problems that probably could have been easily avoided if there was a conscious effort to make sure there was just as much “Dad and Steph” time as there was “Dad and Deej’” time, as I do recall that about every show ended with Bob Saget kneeling down with a various child actress on his knee, wiping a tear from her eye and saying:

“Ever since mom died, blah blah blah…. You know what I think we should do? Let’s be extra sure to plan more special Dad n’ (insert child name here) time. You know- just the two of us. How does that sound?”

(Thank you Bob Saget, for not only modeling “effective parenting skills” but also for giving any would-be child molesters a perfectly scripted pick-up line.)

And it seems that I’ve gotten a bit off track here…

All is good here with me. I’ve taken several big breaths and have sufficiently exhaled now that J is HOME. Ummm…. home. A nicer word than I’ve ever known.

Been listing to a lot of Nanci Grifith lately. In the car of course, so I can sing along loudly and really solidify my white girl identity. It’s kind of my happy-place music, so I guess that’s where I am.

Great. Story of my life...

Your IQ Is 135

Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Genius Your General Knowledge is Exceptional

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

Happy Manhattan Season everyone!

You don't have to know me very well to know that my Manhattan Season officially kicks off at Thanksgiving (or well, any time in November. Sometimes it's just too hard to wait until that special Thursday). You also don't need to know me very well to know how absolutely, spectacularly charming I am after two of these wintertime favorites. And funny. I'm like wittier than... a really witty person.

And so when I found this on Lisa's blog, it came to no surprise to me that...

You Are A Martini

You are the kind of drinker who appreciates a nice hard drink. And for you, only quality alcohol. You don't waste your time on the cheap stuff. Obviously, you're usually found with a martini in your hand. But sometimes you mix it up with a gin and tonic. And you'd never, ever consider one of those flavored martinis. They're hardly a drink!

What Alcoholic Drink Are You?

Must be a family thing.

Clearly they didn't have the option of "You're a Manhattan!"

K-9 Citizens (and the people who love them)

Hi all, and sorry for my blog slacking of late. I will invent the word… “slogging” to represent this phenomena. So, sorry for my recent slogging.

Here is a statement of truth: Gina is not a community activist.

Having been raised in the nest of grass roots volunteerism, and knowing first-hand what kind of effects its resulting phenomena like… long-hours-spent-waiting-in-the-car-whilst-copies-are-being-made-at-Kinkos-regarding-topics-and-activities-of-no-interest-to-me could have on any of MY potential off spring, it was relatively easy for me to develop an appreciation for downhill battles, arguments I know I can win, and agreeing to disagree. I admit that in many ways, my personal definition of “compromise” involves more “whatever, you win. I’ll deal with it and pretend to be happy” than “win win.”

(Side note: But I’ll also admit that the older I get, the more I notice myself overcompensating for this. I sometimes surprise myself with a “my way or the highway” reaction here and there. I’m less passive aggressive and more… plain old aggressive. The Phantom headline could read: “Baby Gina takes the reins…and becomes radical despot.”)

But God damnit, there should be dog parks in Washington DC. On this, I am not willing to compromise. And I mean fully-legal, sanctioned and ENCLOSED dog parks. But there are people here- a lot of them- who are anti-dog park. My west coast brain is still trying to make sense of it. I’m trying to see their side of the story, but everyway I spin it, in my head, they are just wrong. Dog parks are GOOD. But after attending a local Parks and Rec. meeting last night, I have realized that dog parks are a lot like prescription drugs. They must be proven safe and effective before they will be approved. And in this case, the burden of proof is on “us” (the dog people and their dogs) to prove that we are good neighbors and an asset to our community.

A statement by me of “Trust me folks, the “crack park” in Seattle’s Belltown totally cleaned up super nice after it became a dog park. It was a relatively cheap and easy way to make an entire neighborhood safe by bringing in positive activity and pushing out crime! Yay for dogs!!” just isn’t going to do it. There are people in this city with some serious misgivings about dogs and people who own them. And I can’t totally blame them. There are tons of dangerously irresponsible (and just plain lame) dog owners in the world. But here’s the thing: Those people don’t generally use dog parks. And if they do, they are so quickly outcast and shunned by we uppity-dog-park-types that they either 1) change their ways or 2) stop showing up. A pox unto the person who does not pick up their dog's poop at a dog park…. My point is: in a sanctioned dog park, there will always be more responsible dog owners than irresponsible dog owners. And responsible dog-owners are good neighbors. Arguably even better neighbors than drug dealers, hookers, and people with guns (or best yet, individuals who encompass all three!)

I think Daphne would make an excellent ambassador of good faith to the otherwise un-dog-inclined residents of my neighborhood. She already attracts children like the Pied Piper, and apparently has made more friends in the district than I have, so I think she is well suited for the job.

I’m going to walk her more often off of my beaten paths, and I’m going to pick up trash in the process. The last thing I want to be confused for is a target community activist, but I’m afraid that could happen given that this idea is both progressive, helpful and… hurts no one. (insert sarcastic eye roll here) In light of this, I’m going to wait to start this until The Man gets home from Iraq (only a few more DAYS!!) so he can escort me, because I don’t feel safe doing this alone. (I’m totally killing two birds here, by not only accomplishing my doggie good-will plans, but also filling up his man-tank with Hunter/Protector fuel!). Kind of a sad statement that I don’t feel safe picking up trash alone, but I’ll try not to dwell on that.

All right, fine. My secret fantasy is out of the bag: I just want to let Daphne charm her way into the hearts and minds of the good people of planet Earth while the sweet sounds of “Love Can Build a Bridge” by The Judds play quietly in the background…. Is that too much to ask for?? Yes, I fear it is. But I’m going to try to be an extra good neighbor anyway.