We'll see you AT THE MOVIES.

Or not.

Finally watched Babel a few days ago. I'll be honest, I didn't get it. While I found the interconnectedness of the characters interesting, I didn't really care about any of them except the deaf girl. I also went into it thinking it was about miscommunication (all signs from the trailers pointed to that) but really, it seemed more about lack of communication, not miscommunication. I was also uncomforatable with all the racist undertones, and perhaps that was the point, but overall - "eh." I'm glad The Departed won best picture.

Next up was 11:14 - another story about the interconnectedness of strangers. To be fair, I was cooking while watching this and therefore somewhat distracted what with watching all the spinach boil, but after about 15 minutes I put it back in its Netflix envelope. Not even an "eh."

Finally, yesterday I opted for Shrek the Third over Pirates. I was trying very hard to improve my foul mood and everything I've heard about Pirates was just terrible, so I thought Shrek might be just what the doctor ordered... Alas, it was "eh." But! I got free popcorn, which is apparently a new trend at the Grand Lake on Mondays. And! JT fans will be happy with his performance, or his voice-overs, or whatever... Trivia buffs should listen for John Krasinski as Lancelot. Wish I'd known that going into the movie.

And now I've just spent 20 minutes summarizing five hours of my life that I lost over the past few days. Niiiiiiice.

More proof that George Bush hates contact lens wearers.

What is up with all the contact lens solution recalls? This one doesn't seem as disgusting as the ReNu recall last year, where flesh eating bacteria ate your eyes right out of their sockets (or something like that) but still, anything that causes a "potentially blinding eye infection" is just plain scary.

Of note in the NYT article: "The agency also advised people who have used the product to call an eye doctor if they have experienced [various symptoms including] the feeling of something in the eye..."

Uh oh, I have that symptom. I think it's called a CONTACT LENS. Good thing I scheduled an eye appointment last week, hopefully tomorrow the doctor will check it out.

________________
OK, he probably doesn't hate ALL contact lens wearers. Just those pesky left-winged ones.

Don't let the fact that they have a song on The Lake House soundtrack deter you.

Last night I sat through two mediocre bands eagerly anticipating The Clientele.

[Digression. To this day, I do not understand why set changes themselves take 10 minutes but then once the next band is all tuned and ready to go, they make the crowd wait another 25 minutes. Unless it's a big conspiracy by the venue to get people to the bar as many times as possible within that 3 hour time frame. Which it probably is. Sigh, even rock clubs are victims to corporate America. End of digression.]

Anyway. The Clientele are kinda like The Monkeys on Valium. Except for when they rock out - which they did several times last night. The lead singer is also kinda punchy. At one point he mentioned that the next song would be a "nice little love song, so the people in the back might want to SHUT THE FUCK UP already." I like that guy. He reminds me of John Wesley Harding, who is also British, who I also saw once at the Great American Music Hall. I'm sure there's no connection.

Anyway. Check them out. Strange Geometry hooked me and I never looked back. "E.M.P.T.Y." has been in my list of songs I'd want on a desert island for a while now.

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Later in the evening I learned that one of the guys in one of the mediocre bands was from the Brian Jonestown Massacre, and then I felt bad for rating them "mediocre" in my head. He totally rocked out with the band. And then I saw a couple people from the other bands hanging out in the audience with people resembling their own parents, and I felt bad again.

Honestly, mediocre bands, I was there alone and given the 35 minute set changes where I had to twiddle my thumbs, I was lacking patience for anyone other than the band I wanted to see. No offense intended. Next time I will bring a book. Or a friend.

Defensive? Who's defensive?

I can see how cancelling an RSVP to poker night due to a "sick cat" might seem like a lame excuse to people who do not have cats, or people whose cats have never been sick.

But, um, HELLO, people?? Remember this? Yeah, it was kinda like that, for about two hours after I got home, except only with the sitting but not the trying-to-get-up-and-not-being-able-to, and just when I was about to succumb to another $400+ emergency vet trip, Her Majesty perked up and after another hour, all was fine.

Let the record show that I stand by my belief that she was just pissed, not sick. I was gone for a long weekend last week, which means that she got NO weekend last week. She clearly somehow ascertained that this weekend was three days long and she wanted to be sure that my lap was available at least 12 of those 36 hours.

Damn cat. Damn cute sweet annoying cat.

Let the record also show that the next time she pulls that shit on poker night, I'm packing her up and bringing her along with me.

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I mean, really - if I wanted to make up an excuse to get out of a social event, I wouldn't use my poor cat. I'd just say I "strained my back." ;)

Early Friday five.

Five things I secretly covet from the SkyMall magazine, in the order they appear in the latest magazine:

• the Upside-Down Tomato Garden, not that I have enough sun on my balcony for a tomato garden but it's just neat
  
• the Contemporary Charging Caddy (in black), because I currently have six chargers sitting on my dining room table that are just ugly and annoying
• the 3-Tier Shoe Carousel, because the hanging shoe rack takes up precious t-shirt-hanging space in my closet
• the Hidden Litter Box, because let's face it, open litter boxes are just disgusting
• the Soapy Soles Elite 3 in 1 Foot Washer, because I run and this would just be AWESOME
  

Bonus Friday five: five things that should immediately remove anyone who buys them from the gene pool, in the order they appear in the latest magazine:

• the Window-Mounted Cat Porch (just let the damn cat outside already)
• related, the Outdoor Cat Playpen (see comment above)
• the Quenching a Big Thirst Sculptural Fountain (Marmaduke would be so proud, were he a real dog)
• the Snacdaddy (will make ya JUMP! JUMP!)
  
• the book entitled, The Lost Art of Towel Origami (really? this exists? and there are people with that much time on their hands?)

Behold the power of positive thinking.

While I was home I had several conversations about my new job. The two I remember most distinctly are the two most disparate conversations, at least as far as my attitude was concerned.

During one conversation I was asked how the new job was going, and the answer I gave was that I was feeling very put-upon in terms of the tasks I've been assigned that I wasn't really warned about beforehand, the personnel issues I've inherited, and the general lack of understanding anyone outside my department has about the work that we do. I was left feeling bitter and resentful... in part because it sounded WAY too much like my former job.

On the drive to my friend's house the day after the first conversation I knew she would also ask about how the job is going, and I decided to take a more positive approach to answering the question. After all, maybe I won't stick it out for more than a year but if I'm going to be there for a year, I might as well make the best of it. And it really is a great opportunity and I've already learned a TON about managing people, influencing change and the organization I thought I knew really well already. So over lunch when she asked, I was much more upbeat (but still honest) in my reply. And I felt pretty good afterward... good enough that I spent about 4 of the 5 hours on the plane catching up on work even though it was technically my day off.

It's really amazing what a difference your attitude toward any situation can make.

Like, yesterday morning I was running on the treadmill and around mile 2.5 I got tired and bored, and I almost stopped. Then I thought about my friend who is 18% done with her trek up the 2600 mile Pacific Crest Trail, and I ran another 2.5 miles out of sheer inspiration from her. And afterward I felt great.

That's it. That's my profound thought for this particular post. I don't even have anything funny to say about it - it's just amazing to me.

The million dollar question.

I was at the airport this morning coming back to Oakland after a four-day weekend in Maryland for a friend's bridal shower. The older guy in front of me asked, "so is this home or are you going home?"

I really didn't know how to answer that question.

September will mark my 10-year anniversary in the Bay Area. I can't believe it's been 10 years. At this point, I'm just as comfortable stepping off the plane in Oakland, as I am stepping off the plane at BWI. There are people who know me well, and still welcome me into their homes, on both coasts. Either coast offers me home improvement opportunities - Maryland, where the folks are fixing up the place to sell it "someday" and Oakland, where I got an email from a friend saying "I need to demolish my kitchen wall this weekend so that my new refrigerator will fit, wanna help?" (Is there sugar in it? Then YES!)

It's been years - 5 years, to be exact, it was my 10-year high school reunion - since I was in Maryland when the trees had leaves on them. I was struck by the stark difference in landscaping there compared to Oakland. For example, this is what I looked at for an hour Sunday afternoon as I was lounging on the patio talking with the folks:


There, the trees are bright green and lush, and it tends to be maple after oak after maple. Here, the trees have darker leaves and there are so many varieties of plants that you can't even begin to find a pattern...

But I digress. Back to the question. Where is home?

Maybe there is no one answer. Maybe that's OK.

________________
My dad is quite the gardener:

Who knew, I do like the John Butler Trio.

But so far, only for that song "Better Than," which has the lyric I've incorporated as my work mantra: "The grass is greener but just as hard to mow..."

And also? I kinda like Ray Lamontagne. But so far, only for that song "Within You."

In other music news, I'm fairly excited about the following new releases:

• Sky Blue Sky (Wilco)
• The Else (They Might Be Giants)
• The Mix Up (Beastie Boys)
• Blake Lewis's first album, 'cause he's sure to be eliminated tonight which, if former runner up success is any indication, means an immediate record deal
  

(It's my crafting friend's fault. She got me back into this Idol crap. And I really like Jamie Lidell so of course I like Blake.)

Oh and also? This is still way more interesting to write about than that damn paper I (still) have to write. It's kind of funny - the purpose of the paper is to criticize a fictional organization in a case study. I am usually ALL ABOUT criticism of others. Why, just on the way home I provided a running commentary to myself about all the idiot drivers and bikers. So why am I having such a hard time with this paper?!

Oh yeah... I'm lazy.

Why it pays to be agnostic.

I'm sure I'm not the only one singing "DING FREAKIN' DONG." Good thing I don't believe in hell, because I'd be one step closer to it with this post.

And is it just me, or is it so very wrong that a town called Lynchburg still exists?

Kaboom is indeed "kabomb."

In case you missed the annual KFOG Kaboom! fireworks show - they've put it up on their web site. Expect to sit in stunned silence for 10-15 minutes. Highlights include heart-shaped fireworks during "Love Shack," smiley face fireworks during "Shiny Happy People," jellyfish-shaped fireworks, excellent choreography during "Here It Goes Again" and lots of purple fireworks for James Brown. But of course.

I was fortunate enough to be on the Angel Island Ferry for the show this year. Can I just say, OH MY GOD I highly recommend that method of viewing the fireworks. All the views and noise, very few people.

Leaving it in the hands of the pros.

You may recall that I'm procrastinating, so it was with great glee that I ran across this yeti post.

I decided to try to make one of my own. Her Maj was clearly enthralled with the project from the beginning, and made every effort to contribute.

Here is the final result:


SIGH.

Addendum.

I thought that knowing the aforementioned paper awaited me might entice me to do another lap around the lake. Halfway through my run, this was definitely true. It felt great to be running outside on such a beautiful day (instead of in the hot gym on the treadmill) and there were tons of smile-invoking puppies and babies everywhere.

However, when I finished the first lap in 27 minutes (a PR for me) I changed my mind. Clearly that amount of exertion deserved exemption from another lap.

Oh and also, I had to pee.

________________
PRs, for those who don't plow through Runner's World monthly while shaking their heads in shock at all the crazy people who run miles and miles in very little time, are "personal records." I've definitely noticed an improvement in my speed since last fall, and I've been trying out sprint intervals on the treadmill now and then (mind you, "sprinting" for me is 6 miles/hour). But with my long-distance-running buddy off hiking the PCT, it's been hard to get a lot of miles in at once - it's VERY BORING if you're doing it alone, unless you're in that mindset. So anyway, I'm curious to try out sprint intervals over an 8-10 mile run to see how my body reacts...

Blah blah blah YES I HAVE A PAPER TO WRITE, what of it?!

Why it's good that I didn't get into grad school, exhibit #85.

I really must write this paper for my finance class. I really must. It's due no later than May 21st, and I'll be gone next weekend so I really need to get it done by Thursday at the very latest.

I've been putting it off because it requires much more thought than my last paper. I've also been quite busy these past few weeks, and I'd already resigned myself that this weekend I'd be sitting in front of the computer for several hours trying to construct a cohesive 3 page response to a case study.

So here it is, Sunday afternoon. I've put about an hour into it. I have a decent outline. I really should just pound it out and be done with it.

But, well, I'm lazy. And despite sleeping in this morning, I'm tired. And people keep emailing me, and calling me, and of course I had to do laundry and clean out the refrigerator and do some online shopping for bridesmaid dress ideas and check out iTunes for new music and vacuum and...

And have you looked outside lately? It's GORGEOUS.

OK. I'll drop off my Salvation Army donation and go for a run. And then I'll come back and finish the dang paper.

Maybe. I mean, I have until Thursday...

________________
In college, I scored the highest on 10-page papers written between 11pm-6am the day before they were due. Occasionally around 3am I'd get stuck, have a beer or two, and then finish the paper. I think that set the procrastination tone for the remainder of my life.

Belated Friday five.

Top five reasons I {heart} Google, in no particular order:

• their logo changes with each holiday or special anniversary
• I can quickly see what other people thought of The Devil's Backbone, without having to read the lame comments on IMDB (and also see how my review was quite lacking compared with others)
  
• their directions are much more helpful than Mapquest's (see line 29)
• I can find pictures of damn near anything
• in case it's not obvious from the previous reasons, they have a sense of humor

________________
Line 29 bit stolen from MightyGirl.

"The living will always be more dangerous than the dead."

Finally getting back into my Netflix queue... The Devil's Backbone was a good re-entry point. Fans of Pan's Labyrinth should check this out. It's far less violent but still disturbing and engaging. In fact, according to IMDB, del Toro described this as being a sibling film to Pan's Labyrinth (this being the masculine "brother" film, and Pan's Labyrinth as the feminine "sister" film).

I've been very anti-movie lately, mostly due to time constraints and lack of interest in what I have on hand. I really can't remember a week in my Netflix history where I hadn't turned around at least one movie (and I'm going on four weeks right now). So maybe I will finally knock out Babel this weekend too... Which will bring me two steps closer to Alpha Dog, Cars and Fast Food Nation. Woohoo!

"... I don't think it was a person ... "

Normally I am a good driver who curses tailgaters, and expresses other road rage, but gets to and from my destinations in one piece with no major incidents or mishaps. Today was a day I should not have been behind the wheel.

I picked up a colleague and got on the freeway to go to a meeting tonight. Halfway through the tunnel, I noticed that the gas tank was on "E." I made it to a gas station two exits up, only to find that the gas station portion of the gas station was taped off and only the service shop was open. Luckily, I saw another gas station across the street and even though it was Chevron, and Chevron is EVIL for more reasons than their gas prices, I had to consent to their $3.71/gallon just to get me to my meeting and home with a little cushion room until I found cheaper gas. I meant to get gas yesterday and forgot. Bah.

At the meeting I actually came very close to saying this phrase several times. The meeting was frustrating on several levels and I was a bit flustered when I got back in the car to drive myself and the aforementioned colleague home.

I made it to the freeway alright, but as soon as I merged another car came up from behind/beside and nearly sideswiped us. At first I thought "bastard, whatever," but then I remembered that I had a passenger in the car, which I rarely do, so I tried to focus on the road and not the conversation we were having about the frustrating meeting.

Then I hit the chair.

The chair, or portion of chair, that was in the middle of the freeway, that the car in front of me successfully swerved to avoid, that I didn't see until I heard the incredibly loud noise and saw it in my rearview mirror. [Insert subject line from colleague here, followed by "I'm glad we didn't get a flat ... I'm glad it didn't hit the windshield ... I'm glad I don't have glass in my face." She will never drive with me again, I'm quite sure of that fact.] I should've known something was coming when I saw the pieces of the in-window-air-conditioner-unit strewn about the freeway about a mile back... But I saw nothing until it had loudly passed under the car and scattered behind me.

At this point, being fully immersed in an episode of "The Twilight Zone Meets The Surreal Life," I just kept going. I figured the sooner I parked in my garage, the better... I did a quick once-over when dropping her off, and seeing no visible damage I headed home.

The final straw was almost hitting the black cat sprinting across the road as I neared my apartment. Fortunately I saw it well in advance, and I was not going 65 as I was on the freeway, and to the best of my knowledge that cat is safe in its owner's house feasting on tuna and prepping for a nap. Or at least not squashed on the street in front of my apartment.

I am counting on tomorrow being so much better than today. All signs are pointing to yes, as long as it doesn't rain heavily in the morning. I'll explain later. For now, I need a drink and a bed, in that order.

No, I don't watch American Idol. I don't. I swear.

But if I did, I could easily say that Blake's got nothing on this guy.

Reader poll.

I can't decide - is this mean, or is it funny? It almost looks like the kitten is trying to get out of the bathtub but is afraid of the plug (therefore making this mean)... Or maybe the kitten thinks it is mightier than the plug and is trying to show the plug what for (which would make it funny)...

My perspective is all wonky because I just gave Luna the laser pointer exercise regimen (which is always good for a laugh) on this OH SO BLOODY HOT day (which is kinda mean). She is now laying on the floor, panting and glaring at me.

________________
Oh and also? I waaaaaaaaaaaaaant one.

An open letter to Mother Nature.

Dear Mother Nature,
WTF? Friday it was 60 degrees, windy and just plain cold. Today my car thermostat stated that it was 93 degrees outside. NINETY-THREE degrees. I don't think it was completely accurate, but I do know that I was bloody hot today.

You really ARE trying to kill the polar bears, aren't you? Might I encourage you to take a look at this cute little guy? It might lift your spirits, but if it doesn't the Dallas (or is it Falcon Crest?) theme just might.

With utmost respect,
Jen(n)

Work with me, people.

I get to pick my bridesmaid dress for my best friend's wedding later this summer. I'm headed back east for her bridal shower/bachelorette party in a couple of weeks, so I was hoping to find something before then so that I can compare it with the other bridesmaids' dresses and make sure we sorta look alike. So today I endeavored upon a day of shopping for that, and some other things.

At Baby Gap the woman forgot to give me the 50% off second pair of shorts until I reminded her. At Old Navy the guy forgot to give me 20% off my entire purchase as the email from them had promised, until I reminded him. Trader Joe's was out of frozen naan (AGAIN!! grr) and they also didn't have the pre-cut cheese variety pack I was going to pick up for a meeting later this week. No luck on the bridesmaid dress either.

Regardless of the aforementioned facts, five hours and $200 later I schlepped nineteen thousand bags upstairs and spent 30 minutes unloading them.

I ask you... How does this happen?

Useful business phrase.

"Thank you. We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view."

Source: The Office daily calendar (... no, not THAT "The Office")

Under pressure.

Had a meeting today (yes, I do realize it's Saturday) where a respected peer formally and publicly stated his confidence in my ability to be successful in my new job.

Now that I know what I know about said new job, I sure hope he's right.

When good ideas turn bad, and then turn good again.

Tonight a friend came over for craft night. We painted/decorated photo frames for Mother's Day gifts. Hers turned out uber-cute. Mine started out fine, but then I started sponging yellow, red and green onto a white background and it just looked awful. But THEN, I started smearing the red and it turned into a distressed antique look, which will go over great with my antique-loving Mom. I found a couple dried flowers and five glue-gun minutes later, I had a finished product:


Now I just need to finish it off with a "mother/daughter" vintage photo and I can send it off. I hope I have one of those.

Otherwise, not much has been going on lately. I work work work work work, which is mostly fine but kinda sucks now and then, especially since I've been going nonstop since April 16 and won't have a break until this Sunday. Her Majesty's seasonal allergies are back so we're back on the 'roids. The Clientele are coming to town on May 26, so I bought a ticket to that show. Blah blah blah.

And so, I consult my book. "Show some skin" sounds interesting and also very easy - which, to a very tired person who wants to keep up her blog, is just what I need right now. So here's how I got my scars:

• The scar above my left eye. I either had when I was born, or developed shortly after birth, a cyst there. I had surgery sometime before age 2 to remove the cyst.
  
  
• The scar under my lower lip. I don't remember how old I was (3 or 4 or 5?) but I was in my backyard on our swingset. It was a metal swingset with a slide in the middle, two regular swings on one side of the slide, and a bench swing (with a bench seat on either side - kind of like this only the benches had actual backs) on the other side of the slide. ANYWAY. I was across from our neighbor, who I had a crush on from age 3 to age 12, and we were swinging kind of high, and at some point I wound up on the ground. Thinking nothing of it, I got back on the swing but my neighbor turned slightly pale and pointed at my chin. When I looked down and saw all the blood I screamed and didn't really stop screaming until the final stitch was put in. I'm sure the E.R. docs just LOVED me that day.
  
  
• The scar on the top of my left arm, just above the wrist. I was 14, it was summer. As teens were wont to do back before skin cancer and global warming, I was sunning in the backyard trying to get a tan. When my time was up I attempted to go back into the house but the back door was locked. My brother was inside, so I banged on the back door several times but got no response. Begrudingly I went to the front door (it was during my chubby teen days so I was very self-conscious about being in a 2-piece in front of my neighbors!) and rang the doorbell for about 10 minutes. No response. I returned to the backyard and proceeded to bang on the door and window until I actually broke the window with my hand. Naturally, I seized the opportunity and reached through the broken window to unlock the door... only to snag my arm on a shard of glass. And by "snag" I mean sliced in such a way that bled profusely and required five stitches. ONLY THEN did my brother come upstairs and see all the blood and get pale and hug me and apologize and... Honestly, I think that's the last time he hugged me. And that's only because he probably realized the world of shit he was in once my parents got home.
  

So there you have it, my scars. If you want to name them, leave a comment.