Chief Camp Rangerette, for the weekend at least.

So…. Guess what I’M doing this weekend? This afternoon I’m taking off for the high lonesome hills of the Shenandoah Valley (which is neither, high, extremely lonesome or hilly, but go with it) or maybe it’s off the Shenandoah River? Eh, I didn’t plan it, and honesty have no idea where it is on the map (note to self: get directions) but it’s about 1.5 hours outside of DC, somewhere in Virginia. All I know is that I’m bringing Daphne, my mountain bike, river shoes, a sleeping bag and about 8 gallons of sunblock of the SPF 45+ variety. And some beer.

I’m co-hosting the Saturday breakfast, and you can bet your sweet sit-upon that there will be dough-boys involved. No, that’s not the North Carolinian way of pronouncing the last name “Dubois,” but rather the warm and tasty campfire biscuit delights that I first discovered as a Girl Scout. I reluctantly admit that I have burning desire to bring my Brownie uniform that wore for Halloween a few years ago…

I went to Costco yesterday afternoon to stock up on food for my meal responsibility and also happened upon a couple of choice CD’s that will make the drive there simply divine. Duran Duran Greatest Hits AND a Johnny Cash three DC collection. How set am I??

Speaking of CD’s, I don’t want to jinx myself here, but the last 5 CD’s I’ve purchased have all turned out to be fabulous. I’ve come to expect a dud every few purchases, but for the life of me, I can’t remember the last DC I bought that I don’t totally love…

Keith Urban’s newest one, Imogen Heap, Dixie Chicks, Thievery Corporation’s newer one, and now this Duran Duran album (which truly IS a Greatest Hits. Every time a new song comes on, I think to myself, “no… THIS is my favorite Duran Duran song… and then the next song is Rio… Or Girls on Film! Too hard to choose just one.)

Even this Johnny Cash set is a good one. The last one I bought was notably lacking Get Rhythm, I’ve Been Everywhere, Cry Cry Cry, AND Hey Porter… which is asinine. This set however, doesn’t contain Jackson OR Ring of Fire which is both shocking and bewildering. But I of course already have those, so I’m not missing them too much.

So what do you think- why is it so hard to find a TRUE best-of/greatest hits/box collection for an artist with an extensive career?

Jackson Hole Wyoming... Is that in Ontario, Canada?

Thanks Kelly, for passing along this fabulous video to me. In the spirit of my recent transaction with www.cheaptickets.com, in which all I wanted was a flight out of Jackson Hole, Wyoming (yet the call center agents couldn't, for the life of them, understand that Wyoming was a State... in the United States of America), I'd like to share this video with all of you. I found it hilarious.

You'll need Flash 8 to play it correctly. If you don't have it, you can download it here...

Here's the link! http://www.callcentermovie.com/

Health and Beauty Products: Go Big or Go home.

I suspect that I’m like most other women in that it pains me to think about how much money I’ve likely spent on health and beauty products so far in my lifetime. From that first jar of Oxy 10 astringent pads which lived in my Caboodle with a myriad of flavored lip glosses, to my most recent purchase which reflect an affinity for any products that boast abilities to “reduce the look of fine lines and aging,” I’ve experienced my fair share of winners and losers.

In the spirit of sandal season, I’d like to take a moment of your time today to share with you a product that has been around for ever, but I’ve just discovered. A truly effective callus remover.

Ladies and gentlemen, please raise you hand if you’ve ever questioned the usefulness of a pumice stone. Who among us hasn’t sat in the bathtub, scrubbing away at their heals, building enough thermal energy to nearly start a fire, while wondering if all efforts were truly just in vain? Don’t be shy, raise those hands high. Nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve all been there.

Or how about the giant stiff brushes? Yeah, because if a porous brick won’t do the trick, surely a good foot brushing will magically slough off the dead skin. I even invested in a dremel-tool like electric device that essentially sand-belts the calluses away, but even that left me feeling short-changed.

I’ll be real honest with you folks. I gave up. Sure, I went through the motions; I’d continue with the occasional salon pedicure and interim home maintenance. But my heart wasn’t in it. I’d lowered my expectations. I’d accepted that I would always have calluses on my feet. Pretty feet and soft heals were for the other girls, not for me. I didn’t deserve true and lasting fulfillment. I tried to tell myself that it was okay, that it was an advantage, because in a pinch, I could walk across a gravel drive-way barefoot with slightly less discomfort than those other…. soft-footed girls.

But a funny thing happened to me the other day. A funny thing called “hope.”

While shopping at Target for a pair of cheap sandals to replace last year's cheap sandals which were behond trash-worthy and falling apart, I heard a little something from my inner voice. My inner voice said: “Gina, listen to me. Maybe this year things will be different. Maybe this time products will work. Maybe today you should let go of your fears. Your fears of failure, fears of disappointment, fear of unreciprocated devotion to nice-looking feet. Just PUT YOUR SLEF OUT THERE girlfriend! Do it! Try again! You haven’t lost until you’ve stopped trying! If you can believe it, you can achieve it!”

I looked to my inner voice, my higher power, and what I heard was “YES!”

So I did it. I zeroed in on the Sally Hanson product display like an elite member of the podiatric Delta Force.

Delta One to Inner Voice: “Same old shit Inner Voice, brushes, lotions, creams. This is child’s play. Abort and reroute to heavy artillery. I’m going to talk with The Good Doctor... Dr. Scholl that is.”

Inner voice to Delta One: “Excellent work Delta One, but you’re on your own now. Keep us advised here at Command Control. Good luck. Good luck and Godspeed….”

(in case you couldn’t tell, my Inner Voice went from resembling an Oprah/Dr. Phil hybrid to sounding an awful lot like Charlton Heston. Charlton Heston circa “Soylent Green,” sans the gun-toting NRA spokesman vibes. Hey- it was in my imagination, I’m allowed to mess with reality)

I repositioned and found myself uncomfortably juxtaposed with wrist braces, anti-fungal powders and bedpans. This was a different ball game. No longer was I shopping for a traditional health and beauty aid. No longer was I comforted by the proximity of my friends Bonny Bell and Max Factor. I was in the land of non-prescription medical assistive devises, drugstore reading glasses and adult incontinence aides. I was damned near the pharmacy.

And there she was. Right next to the Gold Bond Medicated anti-itch powder and bunion removal pads (still not sure what an actual bunion is, but the name alone makes them sound unfortunate enough to cast much doubt that a little sticky foam pad would be effective in removing them): a product that both frightened and fascinated me. Not just another “callus remover,” but a callus remover with the words “strong German blades stay sharp longer!” written on the outer package.

Was this true? A callus removing product containing actual razors? A tool that I could potentially REALLY hurt myself with?? How delightfully retro! The generic version’s $3.50 price tag only served to encourage my fascination, as I love products that reinforce my theory that “You get what you pay for. Except with health and beauty supplies.”

I grabbed the $3.50 store brand callus shaver thing, my $9.00 sandals and was out the door (after paying of course).


Fair reader, I’ll spare you the details of the actual callus removal process, but leave you with the following adjective that described my process:

Effective, gratifying, quick, thorough, fabulous, horrendous, shocking, intriguing, unexpected, liberating, frightening, joyous, fulfilling.

All for $3.50.

So today a part of me is gone. A dead and callused part of me, and I’m a better person for it. I thank you Inner Voice, for pulling me out of that foggy haze of foot apathy and depression, and I thank you Dr. Schol, for reminding me that like eye-lash curlers, sometimes the freakiest and oddest-looking contraptions make the best healthy and beauty must-haves.



End scene.


Topic for another day: I no longer have any respect for Paul McCartney, as he apparently turned down his then fiancé’s offer to sign a prenuptial agreement citing that it was “unromantic.” Nice move Paul. Maybe all those trips to the strawberry fields took a larger toll on your ability to perceive reality than one might have initially assumed. She’ll likely be walking away with hundred of millions. (of still valuable POUNDS). You’re a frigg’n BEATLE for the love of God. You have A LOT to lose. Did you learn nothing after teaching Jacko how to buy music rights? Sometimes reality interferes with an individual’s ability to be super nice. It’s the world we live in Paul. Welcome to it.

Once again, I've been peer-pressured into the Circle of Youth.

I’d been resisting MySpace. Resisting it like I’ve resisted Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings and Blackberries. I’ve been duped before by passing trends- I always seem to be on the losing end of them. I have an extensive Beanie Baby collection. I have a Palm Pilot with at leather Tumi case which is likely worth a whole lot more than the device itself. I have a page on Friendster. Heck, Daphne has more friends on Dogster than I have on Friendster. And SHE’S one of my Friendster friends…

I wasn’t going to spend my precious Gray’s Anatomy Watching Time on a MySpace profile. I mean really, It’s not like I’m looking for online MySpace love or anything, and certainly not looking for attention from old men who have grown a recent and unexplainable of fear of Dateline NBC.

But leave it to Jennifer to sway the Ginapalooza Opinion Poll toward jumping right into the BLEEDING EDGE of technology and all that is NOW and COOL and YOUTHFUL! (don’t worry, I was trying to be ironic by using the term “bleeding edge”, because it, and MySpace are no longer the newest/hippest/coolest). Because it’s true, everyone is on MySpace. Okay, not everyone, but enough people who I haven’t seen in years just to make it interesting. And since I won’t be able to make it to my High School reunion this summer (which is weird, because of all people, I never thought that I would be among the married people at my 10 year high school reunion. But hey, the world has its own timeline… which rarely coincides with my own. Okay, digressing again.), I thought this would be a fun way to sneak up on old acquaintances.

So once again, I’m jumping on a trend wagon. With this in mind, you can almost guarantee that MySpace will be “sooooo over” in about three months. The clock starts today.

The smell of Love and Sunshine...

Can be found by nestling your face up to the ear of a dog who has been lying in the sun on the back pouch napping.

I'm heading to the American History museum today, as it will be closing for renovations soon, (so I finally have a sense of urgency that will get my butt to one of the Smithsonians this century).

Knowing that this will be an all day affair (and its already noon...) I decided to take Daphne out for a quick walk around the block for a potty break.

Its a beautiful, sunny day out and when we returned home, I gave her a snuggle after taking off her leash. I had to linger there for a while, at the spot on her face just anterior to her ear. It smelled like a country dirt road on a warm sunny day. Dogs, dirt roads and sunny days. It reminded me of being little. I figured it out: it smelled like growing up.

So... if anyone is looking for smell of love and sunshine, I found it. It's on my dog.

Overdue, but here she is...

I know I said I'd post this "shortly" and its over a week later, but this girl has been busy with family in town, infuriating bouts of lower back pain, seasonal allergies and getting married etc.

While Lisa was in town she got to try on the ring and model it for all to see. Here it is:


The ring is still looking for a good home...

An Open Letter to My (old) Fake Engagement Ring

It’s been a good run old girl, but its time you moved on, you need someone who can love you and take care of you the way I can’t. You deserve more than to be shoved away into some storage box, never again to share your sparkle with the world. You have performed dutifully my comrade, and for that, I thank you.

And to think, I didn’t even know I’d need you until I moved back to Seattle and joined the Downtown 24 Hour Fitness. It was there that I learned that I do in fact, have a sign on my forehead that reads: “If you’re a guy who’s under 5’2” and you like to grunt while you lift weights which are far heavier than you can safely lift, I am totally in your league. Please come talk to me. Limited English skills a plus!”

So I did it. I bought you. You were an impulse purchase at Nordstrom Rack- you called to me while I was waiting in line to buy some shoes. You were hanging there on a circular display, surrounded by some of your friends. Your friends were gigantic. Like Pamela Anderson’s breasts, they screamed of fakeness. No- I was looking for something different. More of a Dolly Parton. Big? Yes. In your face? Yes. Somehow tastefully over-the-top? Exactly. And your $12 price tag was in my budget.

We set out from there together. You lived in my wallet’s change compartment and were happy there. Though you were only called to action a handful of times during our years together, you faithfully stood on-point, ready to serve around the clock.

You even helped my friends- which was perhaps your role which brought me the most joy. Like a ninja, I learned not only how to locate you and get you onto my ring finger in a swift and virtually undetectable motion, but also how to subtly pass you into the hand of a girl-friend-in-need. Drug dealers in South Central LA would envy my ability to make such a stealth transfer under the watchful gaze of a Mr. Wrong. You helped Allison that time at Lelani Lanes when even the presence of her actual boyfriend didn’t seem to discourage her pursuer. You helped Ann dissuade Mr. Important-Job-on-Capitol-Hill the at the bar in DC by acting as the ring that was not only her great-grandmother’s, but also a sign of commitment between her and her life companion. (All of this serving as the logical excuse for why you were visibly WAY too big for her).

But most importantly, you helped me. Helped me, and enabled me to avoid uncomfortable honesty. Have you essentially helped me lie? Yes, but have you helped me lie in a why that spares others’ feelings? Yes. In my opinion, the ends justified the means.

But now I have a real engagement ring. It is beautiful just like you. I hate to say that it is more beautiful than you, so I’ll spare your feelings. Besides, while you both feature impressive micro pavé set accent diamonds and a bezel-set center stone, you two are made of very different materials and have totally different reasons for being; This one is meant to stay on my finger- forever. I really shouldn't take this one off- even if I want to get hit on. So I won’t say that my new ring is better, I’ll just say that it’s different. In a good way.

I will always have a place in my heart for you, but we both know that its time we parted. I’m happy now- you deserve to be happy too.

So I’m having a contest write here on Ginapalooza. I want to find the best home for you, and I want to hear from each interested reader why HE OR SHE deserves to have you. I want to know what kind of home you will have, what kind of activities and jobs you can look forward to etc. Readers can comment below as to why they feel they are the most deserving of a new fake engagement ring. I will consider all applicants, and your full custody will be awarded to the winner. Special preference will be give to applicants who promise to send me pictures of you in action throughout your times together.



(note to readers: I will post photos of this beauty shortly...)

The Dixie Chicks strike again!

Hot digidy!

I’ve been out of the music loop lately (um, was I really ever in it?) but I heard from Darling Beth today that the Dixie Chicks are releasing their new album later this month so I did some snooping online and found that aolmusic.com released the video of the single, “Not Ready to Make Nice” today. Watched it. Loved it. Voted on the poll afterward expecting to see that most others loved it too. Wrong-0.
I was in the minority. About 30% of viewers loved it. The rest hated it. Someone must have organized some sort of a Vote “Hated It”-Clear Yer’ Cookies and Vote Again! Rally somewhere down in Texas, as there STILL seem to be some people who are pissed off about the Dixie Chicks. So much so that they can’t recognize a good song when they hear it. Oh, maybe that explains the success of Toby Keith…. Ah, I see. Now THERE’S Someone with good, strong ass-kicking American family values exemplified in these lyrics outlining the benefits to just knocking one out in a one-night-stand rather than dither about with all that relationship garbage (which apparently is “too demanding”.)


Sorry… back to the Dixie Chicks-The whole song was very angsty, full of emotion and a big old “Screw You!” to all who reacted so violently against them after they voiced their disapproval of GW however long ago that was. And when I say “violently” I mean it- the lyrics allude to death threats received by Natalie Maines received as a result of her opinions. Because God knows, there is nothing more un-American that having an opinion and voicing it. Sheesh…

So my plea to the people who are going to get all worked up again about the Dixie chicks and spend a bunch of energy hating them: just save it. It’s a great song, they’re great performers and they can rock their instruments and voices. Besides, as I’ve already mentioned, there are PLENTY of other country artists out there who will sing you nice songs about America Kicking Ass etc. Go listen to them if it makes you feel better. Or just, well, open your mind a bit.

For now, I'm going to go on loving country music among other genres, wishing that a lot of it was better, enjoying the good stuff when it comes around, and simply changing the channel when there's a song that I don't like.

Things that have happened since you heard from me last:

1. Had too much to drink at the Army Navy Club. I’m sure many people throughout history have said that, and now I’m proud to be among their ranks. Proceeded to go out for oysters at a near by restaurant and assume role of “Oyster Aficionado/Goddess” solely because I am from the State of Washington.
   
2. Went to see the WILD PONIES(!!!!) on Asseteague Island off the coast of Maryland.
   
3. Got a scoffed at by teen-aged waiter at a local crab restaurant because I’d never had soft shell crabs. (I mean he was really looking at me like I was an alien- I think he thought I was lying to him or something? His exact words were “Um, you’ve never had soft shell crabs? Um, that’s weird.” Regardless, I’m proud to say that Dungeness are way better. Soft shell crabs can get off their high horse as far as I’m concerned.
   
4. Learned that J will be leaving in 2 weeks. Then found out yesterday that he actually has to leave a week earlier than that to go to a class back in Washington State before he leaves… I swear.
   
5. Looked at a Condo for sale in a not great but not too terrible part of town that was tiny, had one bedroom, a den/office, kitchenette and 2 bathrooms that was selling for 360K. “Cozy” would be an accurate description.
   
6. Went back to the Middle Eastern restaurant with the great dessert- paid attention this time and learned that it is called “Namoura.” I think that is Arabic for “Best three dollars you’ve ever spent in your life- period.” The place is called Mama Ayesha’s and I highly recommend it on your next visit to The District.

That’s about it. What have y’all been up to? Plans for tomorrow’s St. Patrick’s Day? Me? I’ll probably throw on the trusty “Everyone Loves and Irish Girl” shirt, have a Harp or two and… end up singing Molly Malone until the downstairs lady calls the police again??

1) I totally forgot to mention that the downstairs lady called the cops on us last weekend at around 9:15PM on Friday night for being too loud. Lisa had just arrived for the weekend and we were playing Kareoke Revolution. I guess her version of Bobby McGee was just too good to ignore? Or perhaps it was me...
So my new mental notes to self: No bone chewing at after 9PM for Daphne, and no fun-having past 9:15 for the rest of us.

2)There is only one dog park in the DC city limits, and when we go there, we always park (illegally) in the neighboring restaurant’s parking lot because there is really no parking for the park- which is just a little quirk of DC... I always feel like a sneaky bad-ass with a guilt complex for parking there, but its usually just for 15 minutes or so.

Last night, knowing that there were no groceries in the refrigerator, we decided to have dinner there after the dog park. It is a really lovely Middle Eastern place. I just wish I would have known how great the food was a long time ago. The dinner was great (I had stuffed cabbage, very ugly but very tasty) but the dessert was out-of-this-world fabulous. It was kind of like baklava, but lighter- kind of fluffier, not quite as dense. I forget what it was called, but god-willing, I’ll be able to recognize it on a menu again some day. Essentially, I wanted to embrace our waiter for having recommended it to us in the first place. If I knew his name, I’d likely put him in my will (though Lisa already has first dibs on my most valuable asset: Daphne).

So- not only did I feel like I finally supported the restaurant at which I regularly park illegally, but I food that made me want to jump up and down and clap. All in all, a good night.

Hello Friends

Funny how things like oh, say, blogging just don’t seem as appealing when I am mentally taxed all day at work. Kind of says a lot about my last job eh? Just imagine that you are about a year old. You’re standing at one end of a hallway. Someone at the opposite end is standing there, looking at you and says “Walk over here.” Now, as a grown person (or even a 5 year old) you see no big challenge in walking across the room. But friend, you are only one. You can barely walk. This molehill seems like a mountain.

That’s how I feel at work now. I know that soon I’ll look back and realize how not hard this really is, its just all so brand new that I have to learn every tiny aspect from nothing.

So imagine me, as a one year old. When someone asks me to walk across the room, I want to do it. I see how easy it is. Millions of people do it everyday… it even looks kind of fun… But first I’ve got to figure out how to balance, flex my muscles, bend my knees and pick up my feet.

You dig?

Now let’s talk about my car:

I got a new battery at Sears for my car. While I was there, I figured I’d get new tires too, as I would be pushing my luck to continue driving on my old ones for much longer. And I mean really, what’s not to love about dropping $500+ on your car in an afternoon? But now I can stop each and every time I hit the brakes, which is good.

I thought I was driving a really hard bargain by opting out of the road hazard extended warranty after I noticed that it was automatically added to my work order and bill. (PS- if you want to really irk me, sell me something and charge me for it without asking me first- I love that!). So after opting out of said extended warranty protection (I mean come on, tires are thick and strong- and they have a manufacturers warranty in case anything major happens…) I promptly hit a massive curb/drain/pothole-like thing on the street when I was trying to park at night. And when I say “promptly,” I mean “the very next god damned night after buying brand new tires”. Huge gouge in the side wall of the new tire. Swear words were spoken. A guy in a wheel chair stopped on the sidewalk and told me I should have my alignment checked. I was furious. The kind of furious that you get when you have no one to blame but yourself, and even then, it really isn’t your fault. So to speak.

So with my head hanging low, I returned to Sears and told them my story, and fully expected to have to pay another $100 and some change on a new tire. But they guy said, ‘Oh, you might be okay- it’s probably covered under the warranty… (reads through paper work…) Oh shoot- looks like you opted out of the road hazard warranty. Too bad.”

We had a laugh about Murphy’s law and he was an agreeable enough guy. And then the unthinkable happened:

Guy at Sears: “Listen, why don’t I just charge you the $45 for the extended warranty as if you bought it yesterday, and then the cost of the new tire and realignment is covered under the warranty.”

Gina: ______________(that’s the sound of me being speechless with delight).


So- Thank you guy at Sears, you really made me feel like less of an ass for nearly popping my tire while parallel parking!

And advice to all others who live in cities with terribly maintained roads*:


Just pay for the warranty.



*I’m not complaining, just making an observation.


Car Topic 2: I took my car in for its 60K mile tune up today, and I get a call that both of my “marker lights” are burnt out. After a far-to-long conversation with the gal on the phone about not only what “marker lights” are (the lights in your head light unit that are neither headlights or turn signal lights…?) but also their function which apparently is to accompany the headlight and tell others that they are in fact, viewing the front of your car rather than the back (Which I was only able to ascertain after loudly stating “I understand that they are MARKER LIGHTS, I need you to tell me what they DO- what is their reason for BEING), she gave me a repair quote:

“that’ll run ya $154.”

I guess this dealership has a woman service manager available to speak with other woman clients so we don’t feel like we’re getting screwed over, but its hard not to feel like your village was just pilfered when someone tells you that they’re going to change two light bulbs, and charge you $154 (in addition to the super spendy 60K service, about which I am already conflicted, given that they’re really just changing the oil, checking the fluids and changing my spark plugs…).

She said that the parts are only $6, but the labor is what costs so much because they have to remove the entire headlight assembly.

Maybe I should have learned my lesson re. “getting what you pay for” with the whole tire warranty deal, but can you blame me for wanting to see if I can fix the damned lights on my own before I spend that much to have someone else do it?

And its not even for my headlights (which work fine) but for my MARKER LIGHTS, which truth be told, I didn’t even know existed before today.

So… anyone know how to take apart a headlight assembly in an ’02 Subaru Outback Sport?


And all this for a car when I’d just prefer to take the metro everywhere so I can listen to the Ricky Gervais Show Podcasts on my iPod…

Almost Heaven, West Virginia...

Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River….

Hot Damn, isn’t it great that just the thought of John Denver can put a smile on your face? What? It didn’t put a smile on your face? Okay, just the thought of John Denver puts a smile on MY face. And probably Anne’s. And Kari’s too!

I was a real live Mountain Mamma this weekend- I went to West Virginia!! J and I went skiing at Snowshoe for the three day weekend and had a lovely time. I was prepared for crappy ski conditions, as I was advised that all snow on this side of the country is pretty much 100% pure garbage, but really- it wasn’t too bad. Not great, but ski-able. The double black diamond runs were closer to hefty blue squares in my book, and there was a fair amount of man-made snow, but it did the trick.

And here’s what put me over into the “I’d ski there again” category: The West Virginians.

Seriously the nicest people- as a whole- that I’ve ever encountered. Real salt of the earth types. Sure, our waitresses generally had sideburns that reminded me of my grandfather in the early 80’s, but what they lacked in fashion and dental hygiene, they made up for in good-hearted wholesomeness. No other way to word it.

I’m looking forward to going back there in summer- I predict that it will be a beautiful drive when everything is alive a green. Daphne will also appreciate a return trip to her homeland. I don’t know that she really has roots in WV, but I’d like to think that she does.

So aside from skiing, there was soaking in the hot tub after said skiing (much needed), Trivial Pursuit Pop Culture (at which I totally RULE!), eating of good food, and watching of Olympic level curling, bobsledding and ice dancing.

Ah- there was also a flash lesson in auto care and maintenance, as my car wouldn’t start on Sunday or Monday morning- well, it did start, but not without heavy prompting, channeling of positive vibes and looking through the owner’s manual with a crooked brow. I think it was one part old battery that “needs replaced” (as they say in WV) and one part FRIGGEN FREEZING cold outside in the mornings. As in… my entire car was frozen solid because I parked in the shade. So cold that when I released the clutch after trying to start the car, it stayed completely engaged. Guess that’s why they plug in their cars in Alaska… Or maybe my battery just never fully recovered after “The Great Stuck- on-Snoqualmie-Pass-With-Lisa-Whilst-Running-All-Accessories-on-Full-Blast Capers of ‘05”??? The world will never know…

In any case, a trip to Sears is in order this weekend. And not the Softer Side. I hear DieHard’s are the way to go.

Is this irony or just plain crap?

J is supposed to be driving a desk these days, pushing paper etc. We just got to DC about a month ago (well, I did at least, he's been here for about 2 months). We're finally unpacked for the most part, I found a job that I like, things have been going swimmingly. This was supposed to be our time to finally be normal young people in love...

But he found out yesterday that he's getting deployed again. For a year. And he leaves soon. I have milk in the refrigerator that expires after he leaves. This time, he won't be on a ship traveling around through bad-guy waters, but actually on land in bad-guyville. You can imagine how thrilling this is to me.

As much as I've been wanting to scream "BUT YOU CAN'T DO THAT- THAT'S NOT THE WAY IT'S SUPPOSED TO GO!! HE JUST GOT HOME!" I realize that it really doesn't matter how/why/who this is all coming from. Regardless of why its happening, or how incredibly... not fair... it is, it's happening. And it very well could turn me into a bitter, bitter person. In theory, I should get pissed, I should be bitter, I should lead the protest march. I should help stick the "Step Down Bush" stickers all over DC.

But I don't want to be bitter and mad because that's not who I am. I like being happy. And I need that trait right now more than ever. I'll be damned if THIS ("this" being a very broad term here) is going to change my core. I've learned that, for me at least, having the capacity to be pissed at "The Man" is a luxury I don't have. For now at least.

And in response to a comment left on my last entry, yes, I did like McDreamy when he was just a nerd in Can't Buy Me Love. Duh...

Valentine's Day Observation

I stopped into Rite Aid today on my way home from work today(Oh yeah, the new job is going really well by the way- totally overwhelmed, but in a good way. I think.) to get a card for J. Granted, tomorrow is Valentine's day, but really, who needs more than a day of lead/prep time to buy a card?

I was irked to see that all of the cards for men including the "Love, for him" and "For Husband" etc were pretty well picked-over. Only some cheesy ones left. Then when I did find one that was okay, I couldn't find a matching envelope for it... (It was oblong).


Interestingly enough, the cards "For My Wife" "Romantic- For her" were completely well-stocked. And looked as though they hadn't been touched.

Not entirely surprising.


So readers, what are y'all doing for Valentine's Day? And if you respond with "Nothing- its just a holiday created by the greeting card industry to make us feel that spending money on our loved ones is the only way to show how much we care!" Please, be honest- do you really feel that way, or is that the opinion that you've had to adopt in order to avoid pending disappointment?

Huh. that was uneventful

Okay we lost, even though we played what many would consider, a better game. I found the whole thing entirely anti-climactic. Perhaps a product of being a Cougar fan where we blow big leads in the last minute in heart-breaking, but exciting (for the other team) losses.

I found myself saying, "well, there are 3 minutes to go and... looks like there's no way we could win. Darn."


But how 'bout those Stones?!? Sheesh! I never thought I'd say this, but I think Mic and Keith might be in better cardiovascular health than me. Or anyone I know for that matter.

Even the commercials weren't all that glorious. I did like the streaking lamb and the little colt trying to pull the Budweiser wagon. What was your favorite?

Off to watch Grey's Anatomy.

Future blog topic: Saw Brokeback Mountain this weekend and fear that my new fascination with Jake Gillinthal might be stronger than my feelings for Dr. McDreamy. I'm shocked.

Kidding!!

Perhaps I should have clarified in my most recent post...

Of COURSE I'm kidding about my money being transfered to a no-access-by-me account! It was just a little joke... perhaps not so funny in some situations, but when we're talking about gina-money-maven-palooza, its at least... silly.

Now I really want to comment about me starting to assume responsibility for his child-support payments- at least until he starts working again, or collecting on that disability claim... But I won't. Becuase some women really DO do things like that.

And no, he doesn't have any children... That he knows of.

The end is near

The end of sleeping in everyday and not having to go to work every morning that is.

It looks as thought I'll be starting a new J-O-B next week, and while I'm happy about it, as I think its a good fit, I'll miss my early DC days, and all of the long walks and daytime television programming that it brought to my life.

I was even able to watch Days of Our Lives two days in a row, and (not) surprisingly enough, was able to pick up right where I left off back Junior high... And yes, it seems that Marlena Evans is once again, brainwashed. Not sure if it (again) was all the work of The Evil Stephano (who has likely died and come back to life at least a few times in the past 10-15 years) but its still the making of good TV.

On a seperate note, J and I have recently opened a joint checking account with which to pay our joint expenses, (he's having me do direct deposit of all of my pay check into it, and is taking out about 90% of it each month and putting it into a special account I don't have access to "for our future," this is a good idea right?? No silly...) and the checks arrived yesterday. The first set was free. This sounded fine until I got them, looked at them, and found that the free checks are kind of a sample-pack of about 5 popular styles that we can choose in the future. A good idea in theory, until I realized that an Anne Geddes design is included, which means that every 5th check we now write will have BABIES IN GD FLOWER POTS on them...

Hey, that sorority girl from 1998 called: she wants her checks back! Good lord...

So on that happy note, here's a little somethin' for y'all. Have a super day. And remember, shoot for the moon. 'Cause even if you miss, you'll still be among the stars!!

When it's good, it's good

I was reading the DC City Paper a couple of days ago and had to tear out an ad that really spoke to my heart. It was a small black and white ad in the corner of the page for Madams Organ, a bar that I've been to only once, but liked quite a bit near our place in Adams Morgan. It caught my eye because I'd been there before and recognized the name. But it captured my heart when I read:

"Rolling Rocks 1/2 off for Redheads Everyday"


Thank you world, for understanding the plight of the American Redhead.

Not trying to jump on the anti-corporate/Supersize Me band-wagon but...

I think I have the short answer to America's weight problem: Let's start looking (with both eyes)at how much food we're eating! As a Registered Dietitian, I feel that it is necessary to stay up-to-date and current on availability of fast food at popular American franchises. So I went to Popeye's Chicken the other day for an evaluation. Which involved eating a three piece chicken strip meal...

Which enjoying my meal (which ironically, I didn't enjoy at all because, well, it was pretty gross- I honestly don't know why I went there, other than I remember that the biscuits were really tasty when I went there in New Orleans... which is about all I remember. Which should have told me something.) I was reading through the flyer on my tray and discovered that it contained 4 columns of coupons for use at future visits. What I'm about to tell you is not an exaggeration, I'm reading it as a type (yes, I took it home because I planned to mail it to Kelly, who I knew would appreciate the insanity of it).

column Number 1 "Snacks": 3 pieces and a biscuit

Does the world need a reminding that HALF of a chicken is a bit more than a snack? Maybe this is why people think that a dietitians mantra of "at least three meals and two snacks a day" sounds so impossible. At that rate, there would be no more chickens pecking this earth... A string cheese and some raisins... celery and some peanut butter people... THAT is a snack!

Column 2 "Meals for 1": Free 2 Piece Meal with the Purchase of 2-Piece Dinner.

I hope for the sake of our nation's total LDL levels that they're considering this for a total of 2 people, but I fear all 4 pieces will head toward the same mouth...

Column 3 "Meals for 2": 10 pieces, 1 Large Side and 5 biscuits $9.99

That's it, no buy one get one free, just 10 pieces of deep fried chicken, a large bucket of side dish, and 5 biscuits. Between 2 people though, I'd hate to see the fight about who gets a third biscuit, and who gets stuck with only two measly biscuits, (plus 5 pieces of chicken and about 2.5 cups of mac and cheese, baked beans or mashed potatoes...)

And yet, as a nation, how much do we spend on the diet industry???

Column 4 "meals for the family": Buy a bunch of chicken and then go hide the bones in the cracks of the sidewalk for the neighborhood dogs to choke on!



Alright, that's all for now. I'm going to go drink some water and maybe have an apple. And 15 pieces of chicken. Cause I'm trying to watch my portion sizes.

The things I like, the things I don't care for.

Because my mother always said that its more polite to say "I don't care for XYZ" than "I don't like XYZ". She was referring to food at the dinner table, but I'm hoping it’s still the case here.

So- it's been a week and two days, and here is what I have gathered so for about DC:

Top 3 Things I don't care for:

1) The unbelievable number of chicken bones that litter the sidewalks of this city. I can honestly say that not once in my life have I ever felt the urge to eat a piece of chicken while walking down, or sitting on the street. But if pressed, I suppose I can see a certain appeal in such a mobile snack. But when finished sucking all the meat off the bone what kind of person says to him/herself, "Self, I think I'll just drop this chicken bone right here on the street, after all, the rats are looking awfully skinny these days, I'm sure they could use a nice meal. Or may it will just biodegrade?!"

To and/all people who may assume the above: In reality, the fate of your chicken bones is a little different: Here's the real deal- the bones don’t just disappear, they get kicked aside and slough off into the cracks of the sidewalk, the medians, or the strips of dirt that run between the sidewalk and driveways, and share their new home with broken glass, dirty band-aids, and a plethora of other unsavory human waste items. Then, when people are walking down the street with their dogs, specifically, dogs with extra keen senses of smell...the hound group for instance... their dogs take great joy in finding the bones and stealthily snapping them up in the mouths. Unfortunately, cooked chicken bones splinter, and are a big safety no-no in the world of domestic dogs. Because of this, the owners have to pry open their dogs' vice-grip jaws, reach their hand into the dogs' mouths and fish around for the bone fragments, pull the dog-saliva coated hand/arm out of said mouths (all the while cursing and rumbling things like "son of a BITCH! Where the HELL are all these GOD DAMNED chicken bones coming from?!?!?"). Then the dog owners are sitting there with shards of dog and human chewed chicken bone in their hands, and wander around like that until they find a proper trash receptacle in which to toss the bones.

So my proposal to the world of chicken-bone-throwers is this: I'll continue to pick up and throw away my dog's poop, if you drop your bones in a trash can instead of the sidewalk. Deal? Great, thanks.

2) Customer Service Attitudes (or lack thereof)
Wow. I'm only basing this on my experiences at the DMV, the grocery store and the Vet's office, but g-wiz, the only thing I have in my memory bank to compare it to would have to be... Eastern Block Europe- in the early 90's.

Granted, DMV employees are typically not known for the outstanding personalities, but these folks were real peaches. But I suppose I did eventually get my car registered and get my license. But I did a lot of research online and got all my ducks in a row before stepping foot into their offices, (and I only got sent home once to get more documentation...) I felt really bad for the other people I saw there who needed some help figuring out how things worked, and they clearly were not going to get that help. Ever.

As for the grocery store and the vet's office, its just a general feeling of apathy toward long lines of waiting customers, and an "I'll get to you when I get to you" type of attitude that I -now that I think about it- rarely saw in Seattle.

3) Our downstairs neighbor that started pounding on her ceiling last night with a broom handle (in what I can only imagine was an aggressive attempt to tell us to be quiet) while J and I were quietly filing papers and organizing our book shelves. It was about 9:50 PM. We finally realized that it was Daphne. She was on the floor, chewing on her new bone that I got her at the pet store after her trip to the vet. Apparently the sound of her chewing was just too much for this lady to handle.

Am I a bad person if I am eagerly awaiting her next session of (what is routinely audible) sexual intercourse during which I plan to jump up and down on the floor?

Payback can be a bitch. And sometimes, so can I.



Things that I LIKE!

1) The Metro.

I just can't help it. I think its fun, exciting and just so damned great!

2) The insanely aggressive driving. I was toying with putting it on my things I don't care for list, but in all honesty, I think I'm growing to like it. At first, getting honked at for not driving like a total spaz make me nervous and defensive, now it just fuels the fire that is... me. Now that I have my DC plates, I feel more justified in honking at people with out of state plates when they say… need to get out of a turn lane and the last minute, or take more than 1/8 of a second to accelerate when the light turns green. Kind of like hazing...

3) The best things in this town are all free!

All the sights, museums etc- all free. America: Membership has its benefits.

4) This is where its ALL HAPPENING. And its not like I'm part of it, heck, I'm really not involved in any of it. But it feels more real. And I have a front row ticket.

5) I'm on the East coast, but I don't feel like an alien. Everyone is from somewhere, and there is a little bit of everywhere somewhere.

6) I can see the Capitol and the Washington Monument every time I take Daphne out for even the quickest walk.



So- for now at least, there are more things that I like than I don't. And you can't ask for much more than that. I'm off to dabble in the job hunt... which I admit, is still half-hearted, as there is so much to do here, that who really has time to work?

...until I run out of money...