Friday, July 24, 2015

The dreams of last night

Sarah taught people to cross stitch, and I was her expert-in-residence, to offer both my assistance and my celebrity.

It snowed, at a time of year when it should never snow, and I got mad.

Someone made me cry.

My dad made hot dog after hot dog after hot dog, at some fast food job he had, and we waited and waited through hot dog after hot dog, and I thought for sure that when his shift was over we would all eat hot dogs together as a hot dog loving family.

But he got off his shift and told me we were eating at home.

I was upset.

In fact, I still am a little bit, and am shaking off the badness of the dream in the way you have to do sometimes, when you have to remind yourself that it was just a dream.

Hot dogs for everyone.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Emotional exercise

I'll tell you where I've been having emotional experiences lately.

On the treadmill.

On the treadmill with my iPod shuffle, specifically.

And no, this is not a publicity push for Apple, though apparently they could use it.

I'm not actually a huge fan of Apple, and my only Apple product is the iPod shuffle which I got for free through a credit card rewards program. I almost put the signature apple-shaped sticker I received with the iPod on my PC to be ironic, but instead set it aside for my sticker-loving niece and nephew.

But I do enjoy my iPod shuffle.

It's convenient. It holds a lot of music. It makes my workouts go much faster. It's purple. It's shiny. It clips on my shorts like a champ.

And it helps create these emotional experiences I've been having lately.

First let me tell you about our "workout room" at my apartment complex.

It feels like a patio, but it's, uh, unattached to any sort of structure.

We'll call it Patio to Nowhere.

There are sliding glass doors on either side of the Patio to Nowhere, and the ones facing north are forever shut. I don't know if they're glued or bolted or what, but you can't get through them.

But I'm glad they're there, because the floor to ceiling glass gives me something to look at (through, really, to see) -- the often uninhabited pool -- while I (mostly walk)/jog.

Oh.

And this "workout room" includes a treadmill and a bike.

And an air conditioner.

And a sink with a bar counter that's about 3 feet long.

And it contains you, if you're in it.

Otherwise, nothing, which is why I feel Patio to Nowhere is a more appropriate name for the area.

So anyway. I've been (mostly skipping my workouts but) usually not skipping my long workouts which occur on Saturdays, at which point I pack up my Gatorade and water and energy chews and cell phone (to text for moral support) in my Rosie the Riveter tote bag, clip on my iPod and head to the Patio to Nowhere.

To stare at the pool for over an hour.

You should try it sometime it's great.

Actually it kind of sucks, but with the iPod there are emotional experiences sometimes which make it kind of great.

And by emotional experiences I mean that sometimes, lately, I've been getting goosebumps while I listen to certain songs while walking on the treadmill. Because sometimes the song is so sweet or motivating or spiritual that in combination with the adrenaline of enduring exercise, I feel all motivated and spiritual and goosebumpy.

That's it.

But hey it's worth writing about, yes?

I hope so, otherwise this blog's going to need the kind of boost Apple needs to get my readership back up.

This past weekend there was some actual action at the pool, and no I don't mean people actually in the pool using the pool but rather raindrops were falling on the pool.

Now sometimes I do this embarrassing thing where I imagine the song I'm listening to as some sort of soundtrack for my life, which I realize is both narcissistic and disturbing.

So I'll picture myself walking down the aisle at my wedding, or walking down a sidewalk, or something, while the song is playing in accompaniment.

So that's embarrassing and terrible. But the deed is done and I've already admitted it so we're moving on.

But sometimes the music just matches my pace and it is just the bomb dot com when that happens.

And this weekend, there was a moment, that may have been augmented by my imagination, but as I watched the raindrops fall on the surface of the pool, it felt like:

the song

the rain

and my feet

were all speeding up together.

And it was awesome.

Ma petite famille

I love my little family.

I mean, my actually family, yes, which is actually quite large.

But my other, little family.

Alex and Abby and Max.

There was a moment last night, Friday Night Lights paused on the TV, so that A & A could dissect what they thought was a flaw in the plot, their faces framing Max, lying between them on the couch, watching their every word.

Alex and I were eating dinner on the floor, and A fed Max some bits of chicken.

I looked over some time later, and M was sitting right on the edge of the couch, as close to A's face as he could, waiting for more chicken.

So precious.

I so wanted to stay home with that adorable feline today. He deserves to be smooched on all day.

Abby worked on her latch hook project as the drama of Dillon unfolded before us, and I nearly dozed on Alex's shoulder, up past my bedtime.

Last night was the first time anyone sat at our bar stool to eat food (before we moved the dinner party to the floor, picnic style), and Abby and I got very excited about it.

We love our home.

I get so happy when she gets home from work, or when I get home and her car is already in our parking space.

Abby gets nervous when Alex and I have disagreements. And by disagreements I mean when we're reenacting a conversation we had and Alex is claiming that I was more dramatic/animated/untruthful than I really was.

And then Abby feels pressured to take a side and says, "Guys....."

I love my little family.

The other night Alex said "kitty" in the same ridiculous childlike voice that I use, and he immediately shot me a look that said, "I blame you fully for the fact that I just said that."

We're all rubbing off on each other, in the best ways, in my humble opinion.

I go to bed later, Abby goes to bed earlier.

Abby braids my hair at night, so I'll have waves in the morning, and when I do it myself she compliments my form.

I put spinach in my smoothies like Abby does, and I make smoothies period.

I eat salads, a la Alex.

Alex says "kitty."

Abby and I imitate each others gestures, and catch ourselves.

We laugh when we talk. And we listen when the other's struggling.

When Abs and I get really hyper, Alex shifts his eyes and says, "I'm terrified of both of you right now."

I love my little family.

Monday, July 20, 2015

Lightning and Costner and Thai, Oh my!

It rained in Los Angeles this weekend.

There was lightning.

That I could see.

And thunder.

That I could hear.

That was weird.

What else was weird is that, while I loved it that it was raining, it got me all anxious inside. I grew up around thunderstorms, much more violent than what occurred this weekend, but this little baby storm had me all nervous. I guess I've lived here long enough that not only do I need a jacket when it's 72 degrees but I no longer feel safe by simply being indoors during a thunderstorm.

So what else can I tell you about my life?

I'm eating sushi for lunch tomorrow. Yum.

I bought -- DON'T JUDGE -- another cross stitch kit.

But it's vintage and so so so cute and the expressions on the faces of the kids in the pattern have so much emotion and it involves rain and umbrellas.

So I bought it, but not to open yet.

It's my cross stitch of a rainy image to open on a rainy day.

Which, in LA, could be a while yet.

I watched the movie McFarland, USA this weekend. It gave me, as my brother calls it, that Mighty Ducks feeling at the end. And Kevin Costner has not aged. Whoa and whoa again. He looks maybe five years older than he did in Message in a Bottle, which was over 15+ years ago.

I had massaman curry and pineapple fried rice this weekend mmmmmmmmm.

I would love to wash my hair right now.

I appreciate you guys reading this "blah blah blah" stuff I sometimes write.

But with that, I think I'll stop blah blahing and leave you in peace. Over and out, for now. A bientot.

Friday, July 17, 2015

Christmas, Clueless, Culinary, Carvey

Anyone else listening to Christmas music in July?

Just me?

OK.

Tomorrow's Friday, Y'all!

What are you doing this weekend?

I'm going to the DMV, dressing up in 90s gear and watching Clueless, greeting homies at church, and otherwise chillin' like a villain.

I need to eat more vegetables.

If Alex read that last sentence he would smite his forehead, almost guaranteed.

Or, actually, now that I think about it more, he would yell at the computer screen, "Yes! You do!"

It kills him, my diet.

I tell him -- if I can BE SO BOLD to think this -- that we're like Luke and Lorelai. Lorelai eating Pop Tarts, tater tots, drinking coffee, Luke telling her how everything she's ingesting is going to kill her.

Alex caught me with Pop Tarts in my purse this year.

:)

I'm charming. I can see why he dates me.

Dates me, and grits his teeth while I forego another vegetable and eat a protein bar instead.

I accidentally just typed "protein beer," so you can see where my mind and diet are at.

I'm listening to pop music. I need to be pumped up!

I'm thinking of Dana Carvey's Arnold Schwarzenegger impression (I just spelled Schwarzenegger correctly on the first try!!!) when I write "pumped up." He did a very brief impression of the Governator this weekend when I saw his stand up act, and it was enjoyable.