Holy bad movie reviewer, Batman.

I just realized I am miserably behind on Netflix reviews. Deep breath... and away we go.

This Is England: A charming little story about a fatherless English lad who falls in with some skinheads, gets involved with a much older girl, and is taken under the wing of a militant psychotic. OK, perhaps not charming, but very well written, directed, and acted (by everyone, but particularly the lad) and apparently somewhat true to the writer/director's life. Not to make cliche comparisons, but if you appreciated American History X you would probably appreciate this one too.

December Boys: Finally, a Daniel Radcliffe movie not about a wizard. I was actually impressed with this little sleeper about four orphans trying to find a home. I may have actually shed a tear or two at one point. Fans of the Cider House Rules (or Annie) would probably like it.

Youth without Youth: One of those "seemed like a good idea when I queued it" flicks. It sat on my TV for about four weeks, until I finally gave in and sent it back without even giving it the 20-minute test. I bet it was awesome, because most things Tim Roth touches are awesome, but...

Evening: Other than the all-star cast, what was I thinking? Again, sat sat sat and got sent back.

PU-239: Guy gets blamed for a radioactive accident he didn't cause (or did he?!), guy tries to make a buck so his wife and kid are supported after he inevitably dies of radiation poisoning from the accident, guy hooks up with goofball mafia failure in his effort to make said buck. Quite better than I expected, and I already had high expectations given a friend's review. The story was moving but there was enough subtle (and not-so-subtle) humor to keep it entertaining without being too heavy, and the end was predictable but justified. Two more thumbs up. In keeping with the theme, fans of... let's see... I actually think fans of Six Feet Under would like this one. Or Breaking Bad, not that I've seen that (yet) but it seems to follow the vibe, from what I hear.

Eastern Promises: I didn't care for the first half hour, even after Viggo's sauna scene, but then it got GOOD. Then again, I am terrible at predicting plot twists so I was taken aback and pleasantly surprised. And then the end sucked. But the part in the middle of all that was worth my time and attention. Fans of mystery/mafia flicks would like this one. I'm generally not, so I don't have any good examples. The Conversation, maybe?

The Hoax: Put it on in the background at the suggestion of another friend. Too much drama going on. Didn't care about any of the characters. Turned off and sent back.

The Prophecy: OK - Christopher Walken, Eric Stoltz, Viggo Mortensen and Adam Goldberg in a movie about the second world war in heaven, where Goldberg plays Walken's sarcastic sidekick (hardly a stretch but still hilarious), Stoltz is uncharacteristically Mr. Moody yet still oh-so-charming, and Viggo eats someone's heart? Why did it take me almost 15 years to see this? I liked. I liked very much. Fans of any of the aforementioned actors, or of Dogma or religious yarns in general would probably enjoy this.

Stop-Loss: I *promise* that it was completely an accident that I watched this Memorial Day Eve. I know it seems like something I would plan, or something, but it was totally happenstance. I think I only rented it to see what all the fuss was about Phillippe and Cornish, and I just happened to take it along on my road trip along with the next movie in the list. But it was a very well-done story about a soldier finishing up his tour after leading several buddies to their death or demise, only to be told he had to go back for another, and his attempts to thwart this fate. Interesting, sad and predictable, but worth a viewing if you're remotely interested. Phillippe always impresses me when I least expect it. Which is kind of all the time. Maybe I should change my expectations of him. It's along the Born on the Fourth of July lines, without an annoying lead actor.

The Tracey Fragments: Ever since Juno, I've wanted to love everything that Ellen Page does. But Smart People bugged me, and this one was way too clever - or just too distracting - for me. I couldn't follow it so I turned it off. It probably didn't help that I put it on at 11pm three nights in a row when I was really tired, and I was watching it on my teeny portable DVD player, but still...

The French Connection: Yeah, yeah, I'm just now getting around to this. Only took me 38 years. We shall soon see...

That's all for now. Go forth and view.

Early Wednesday three.

I got some great sign photos this weekend, which I'll post in a Friday five, maybe. But three signs I missed getting photos of, due to not wanting a traffic ticket for an illegal U-turn across a double yellow line - or more likely, due to my just being lazy - in no particular order, were:

• Wet Willy's Car Wash (outside of Bend)
• "Poles Galore, Etc" - apparently a roadside shop that sells bamboo poles to hold up your newly planted trees, plus some "galore" and a little "etc."
  
• the ironically named "NW Wimp Way" intersection - "in a very unsafe location, given it is at the end of a grade from the railroad bridge, speeds are high, and there is a history of several crashes"

I love small towns.

Marc-André Fleury is my God, right after Joss Whedon, but...

If you don't already know that I'm a bit of an atheist, well - I'm a bit of an atheist. I loosely follow the animism theory, that all things - from tomatoes to snakes to rocks to people - have souls and deserve the utmost respect. (Except ants. HATE. THOSE. ANTS. And maybe flying cockroaches.)

This weekend I found myself uncharacteristically praying on two separate occasions, for two very different reasons. In one situation, I'd hiked to the top of Smith Rock. Most of the way up was fine, but then I reached a point where I was hiking at what felt like a 65 degree angle, upward, for about 40 minutes. This plus hiking 12 miles in sand two days prior pretty much killed both of my Achilles tendons. (None of this really caught up to me until mid-day yesterday when it was too late - it still hurts to walk, but it was worth every minute, and yesterday at noon I got to do this for an hour:

... so there was that.)

Anyway, this part of the trek is called "Misery Ridge," and rightfully so. I am used to steep trails at high elevations, but the ones I'm used to have lots of trees and brush to cushion either side should an ankle twist or a rock trip you up. Misery Ridge eeks alongside the edge of the cliff with nothing between you and the ground ~800 feet below you, except nice hard dirt and a bumpy ride.

I have no fear of heights. However, I have a definite fear of falling. I think this is a healthy fear, but it does put a mental strain on hikes like this. The views were breathtaking:

And in the end it was easy enough to lean forward and left into the cliff, and I made it to the top with minimal stress and lots of great photos.

Only to realize that now, I had to get down. Shit.

The down trail also eeks alongside the edge of the cliff with nothing between you and the ground ~800 feet below you, only this is a much steeper fall. Going down, leaning back would likely cause the rocks under your feet to scatter, leaving you scrambling. But you do have the luxury of stairs on the loose, sandy, rocky trail:

... which actually made it even more mentally challenging. When I reached this staircase (about 1/3 of the way down) I stopped and prayed. It was more a cheerleader prayer - "if I make it down this cliff, I can do anything! I can do this!", repeat ad nauseum, but there was definitely some "please God" thrown in there for good measure.

As I knew I would, I made it down without even a slip. And I immediately made a mental note to interrogate my friend about this alleged July 4th weekend Mt. Adams climb and what I should mentally prepare for. Never mind physicalities - with a little preparation, I can get through those just fine. But what will mentally stop me in my tracks, what will be my wall on that climb? During marathon training and the actual run, it was always mile 16. On Mt. Adams, will it be the ice? The false summits? The 5,500th foot of elevation?

The other time I prayed was at the sports bar downtown on Saturday night. I just wanted to watch some hockey. I chose a spot at the bar away from everyone else, right in front of the TV, and fixed my eyes on the game, only speaking to the bartender when he asked if I wanted another beer or some food. Before I knew it, two drunken yahoos old enough to be (at least) my dad were bothering me, asking me every question under the sun, when it was clear that a) I wasn't interested in talking to them, b) I was just there to watch the game, c) I was not really interested in taking down your number so that we could have a drink "again" tomorrow and d) NO I WILL NOT DO A SHOT WITH YOU now go put the convertible top up on your car so your three dogs sitting there waiting for you don't get struck by lightening in this sudden thunderstorm you drunk asshat moron!

I love overtime. It's fun, it gets the adrenaline rushing, it brings out some good fights. However. In that situation, I prayed like hell for no overtime. And my prayer was answered, in a 6-2 smashing victory. So thank you, whoever pulled that one off. (Ahem, Fleury, ahem.)

Woo to the hoo.

If that's not a good weekend exploring Bend, I don't know what is.

About Rachel.

Tomorrow is my last acting class (thank God - it's been fun but it's just not for me) and we are having a cocktail party with various characters we portrayed last week. One of the characters I played last week was a young woman who was napping when her date knocked on her door to take her to a show. I guess she was a bit neurotic, and always late for everything, and very apologetic but all with a high level of energy. Kind of like Rachel from Friends, so that's what I named her when I was assigned that character for this week's class. I'm going to make her socially awkward too - since I play that in real life it should be an easy transition.

We have to be prepared to talk about memories of this character from ages 5, 9, 13 and 21, and one of those memories has to be something embarrassing, and another something romantic. We also have to have a quote that inspires this character. Since I put this off for a full week and have no interest in doing this now, I figured a blog post about "Rachel" might make this whole process a little easier. After all, I'm a writer, not an actor. So...

When Rachel was 5 years old, she was playing with her older brother and his friends the next street over from their house. Her older brother had the bright idea of making his friend kiss her on the nose. This idea appalled Rachel, and she screamed and threw a fit, which caused the other boys to grab her tightly, push her toward this friend (who was just as appalled) and execute this horrid activity. After it was over, she walked home the long way, crying her eyes out, and it took several months before she would play with that group of kids again. She was already a shy kid - having just gotten over crying when strangers talked to her at the grocery store - and this exacerbated the situation immensely. She recently reconnected with the boy (thanks, Facebook!) and they shared a good laugh - apparently, it was as embarrassing to him as it was to her.

[OK, in this memory, I am Rachel and all of this actually happened.]

When Rachel was 9 years old, her grandmother died. This was her last living grandparent, and her mother and grandmother were incredibly close. Seeing her mother, the strong vibrant woman she knew and loved, instantly so distraught was confusing and upsetting to Rachel. Seeing her mother bounce back and be the strong vibrant woman she knew and loved through the viewing, funeral, and subsequent parental house cleanse and sale was inspiring to Rachel. This experience affected her deeply and was the turning point from her being socially withdrawn to being more outgoing as well as the rock her friends could count on in times of need.

[Only sort of me. Grandma did pass away around this age, and it sort of had this effect on my mother.]

When Rachel was 13, she got braces. She only had to wear them for a year, and they hurt her mouth like hell the entire year, but that was neither the worse nor the worst of it. The worse of it was one day at school, after eating a slice of oh-so-healthy cafeteria pizza, when someone pointed out that her lunch was stuck in her braces. To this day, all food must be cut up into bite-sized portions lest something get stuck in her teeth. The worst of it was her older brother, now at the awful teenage taunting age, walking around the house saying "not with this brace face and gross hair!" every single second of every single day. Well, at least it felt like it was every single day.

[I was 12. But, same difference. I tried to find the milk commercial on this site but quickly lost patience. Brother was also fond of saying "pretty sneaky, sis" which I repeat ad nauseum to this day though... So there's that.]

When Rachel was 21, her boyfriend Josh proposed. They had been dating for three years, and in the third year had discussed marriage off and on but neither had ever committed any solid interest in it. One night they stayed in to watch TV instead of seeing a band (their usual outing) and while flipping through the channels, Rachel ran across When Harry Met Sally. They were both suckers for this movie, and watched the whole thing reciting lines word for word. At the end, after Harry runs to get to the NYE party to tell Sally he loves her, Josh said (still staring at the TV) "I think we should get married." Rachel turned to look at him, and he looked at her, and then she kissed him at the exact moment Harry and Sally kissed. "So, this means yes?" Josh asked afterward. "Yes," she replied.

They planned a prolonged engagement due to student loan debt and being so young (Rachel wisely wanted to be sure they would still feel the same in a year, in two years, after living with each other.) Instead of a ring, Rachel wanted a better TV for movie nights. So they started saving. A month later, Josh was diagnosed with pulmonary embolism and thoracic outlet syndrome. During his hospital stay, Rachel arranged for the hospital clergyman to wed them in a private ceremony. Josh died the following week of a blood clot.

Rachel dated sporadically in the years following Josh's death, but never truly committed to anyone or anything - people, jobs, places. Josh's death made her realize that life was short, and making the most of it was her job on this planet. Work was just a way to support her exploring habit.

[Other than work supporting exploring... I AM SO NOT A ROMANTIC. Jesus. Oh and also, I watch too much House. And too much E! - today I learned that one of the Mmmm-Bop brothers had pulmonary embolism and almost died.]

Rachel's quote: "Dashboard melted but we still have the radio" - Modest Mouse... Music drives and inspires her, and she is able to find five things that don't suck about every day that sucks overall.

[Totally me.]

Belated Friday five.

Five things that did not suck this week, in no particular order:

• Watching the Penguins move on to the next playoff series. And seeing all the swear words and ":(" FB stati from all the Caps fans. Suckers! (Wait, did I say that out loud?)
  
• Geeking out at an excel class, followed by two hours in an amazing Goodwill where all the yuppie people and yuppie department stores donate their clothes (a pair of not-Old-Navy jeans, a work-friendly shirt, a glass sautee pan lid and a vase for $12! I had forgotten how much I loved thrift store shopping), followed by an amazing soup place in the Goodwill strip mall that serves huge wonderful bowls of soup for $3.25...
  
• ... followed by free tickets to an excellent show at the Doug Fir. Hooray for elitism (Yelp stylie).
• Ben Folds at the Roseland. Finally, finally, finally, I saw this guy (and his band). About three songs in, I was dubious - it sounded just like the CDs and looked nothing like what I'd seen on youtube clips. But then he confessed to having a migraine, which he gets about twice a year, and popped a couple anti-migraine pills... OK, when I get a migraine (also about twice a year), the most I can do is get up to wet a washcloth with cold water, stumble back to bed and put it over my eyes along with the blankets... But he was up there jamming under strobe lights and a screaming crowd, and suddenly his pain pills kicked in and it looked exactly like what I'd seen on youtube clips. Migraine WIN!
  
• Doing nothing other than catching up on Lost (no matter how lame the show has become) on a Saturday night. Two late nights in a row? I'm old, people. Bloody old and bloody tired.

Muahahaha! Ha. Ha.

The warm up for tonight's acting class* was to adopt a particular character, then do "the wave" around the room where everyone repeats your character's move.

One of the characters was "Mad Scientist" so I naturally went straight to Dr. Horrible. Unfortunately I was last in line, so by the time the "wave" got to me, someone had stolen the gist of the "ahahahahahaha ah-hahahahaha-hahahaha!" laugh, and the freeze ray bit would've been lost on these people anyway. So I had to settle for something out of Young Frankenstein.

But still. Best Mad Scientist laugh ever! Just watch for 20 seconds. (Um, and then watch the whole thing if you haven't yet. It's amazing.)

________________
* Best thing I've learned from this acting class, which thankfully ends next week? I'm a writer, not an actor. So there's that. Eight missed House episodes, $80 and something to cross off the not-bucket-list to learn this... I'm OK with that.

Why I like hockey - a short essay.

I am not a sports fan. I've been known to watch the Superbowl fairly regularly, and a rainy Sunday afternoon football game on occasion. But other than that, my life does not revolve around ESPN, or any other TV channel for that matter... that is, until May(ish).

I have no patience for keeping up with an entire hockey season - the number of regular season games rivals that of the most boring sport on earth after golf (baseball). But I always check out the playoffs. Since no one seems to understand why Jen(n) the artistic pacifist enjoys ice hockey, I thought I would try to explain:

Because there's fights. Knock-down, punch-you-in-the-face fights.

~ The end. ~

No, just kidding. That's only part of it.

(But it is part of it.)

I was watching game 6 of the second series playoffs between the Washington Capitals and the Pittsburgh Penguins (GO PENS!*) tonight. Although this was a particularly sloppy game, somewhere along the line it hit me.

Did you ever see that movie "The Cutting Edge"? No? Me neither.** But I suspect that hockey is a lot like what they tried to do with that movie. Often times gritty, rough and impossible to follow, occasionally incredibly graceful, skilled and eloquent. You try skating backwards carrying a puck, doing a perfect 180 wrist flip goal shot followed by a purposeful full-on collision into the glass complements of an opponent, and you'll see what I mean.

(We played floor hockey in middle school PE class, and I loved watching and learning the game but I hated haTED HATED playing. Mostly because the guy I had a crush on was my team's captain, and I was scared of getting hit by the puck but also didn't want us to lose, so I weaseled my way through many a game. But the sport itself fascinated me even then.)

And yes, there are times in the NHL when they thrown down sticks and just start punching the crap out of each other, and that's pretty awesome. I don't watch boxing - hitting someone for entertainment's sake is stupid. But getting caught up in the passion of the game, the win, and defending teammates who were wrongfully slashed or hip-checked or tripped... it's exhilarating. Especially because they have all that padding, so the worst that can happen is a black eye or... broken jaw or lost tooth or... OK never mind. It's exhilarating!

All this overtime from this series and the previous series against the Flyers is about to give me a heart attack, so I'm hoping that Wednesday's game ends cleanly and on time... and in the Pens' favor.

If not, no love lost, GO CAPS and I can officially cancel cable once and for all (Comcast finally realized I'm no longer qualified for their 6-month introductory offer). And begin the search for stellar sports bars for this time next year.

________________
* Yes, given my roots, I am supposed to be rooting for the Caps, but I am all about the Flightless Birds. It's something else to blame on my college boyfriend. And boy, am I getting shit for it on Facebook...

** Just to be clear. I have seen 13 Going on 30 and Hope Floats nineteen million times, but I have NEVER seen The Cutting Edge. Promise.

Belated Friday five (hundred twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes).

Thursday marked my one-year anniversary in the fine town of Portland. Job aside, I couldn't be happier with my decision. Five favorite Portlandish things from the last year include:

• discovering the wonder that is the Columbia River Gorge
  
• Musicfest Northwest (13 bands + 9 venues + 4 days = AWESOME)
  
• remembering that there is a season called "fall"
  
• snowpocalypse '08
• the Wednesday farmer's market at SW Park blocks (which started back up this week, woohoo!)

What were five favorite things from the last year where you live? (If you can't think of any, why are you still living there?)

Spam a lot.

For some reason I've been surrounded by SPAM lately. And I don't mean the annoying emails or the amusing Broadway musical - I mean the actual disgusting product that is known as SPAM.

First sighting was mandatory fun day a few months ago - all kinds of 1970s products (including SPAM) were offered for consumption.

Today I noticed that a (vegetarian) coworker had a can of SPAM on his shelf... and I inquired, but got no legitimate reply.

Walking home tonight I saw this:

OK, Portland. More SPAM in 4 months than I have seen in 34 years of life. What gives?

Sooooooooo Portland.

Is this one of the ten commandments? A random SE Portland request? You be the judge.

Me ABCs.

A - Age: 34 (I had to argue with the doctor recently to come to this conclusion)
B - Bed size: full
C - Chore you hate: laundry
D - Dogs or cats: ... well, duh
E - Essential start your day item: 94.7 fm
F - Favorite color: orange
G - Gold or Silver: silver
H - Height: 5'4"
I - Instruments you play: a couple of chords on the geeeetar
J - Job title: spreadsheet monkey
K - Kids: no thank you, but I love everyone else's
L - Loud or quiet: quiet
M - Mom's name: virginia
N - Nicknames: shaf, nnej
O - Overnight hospital stay other than birth: once, in college for an unidentified abdominal pain
P - Pet Peeve: turning drivers who inch up on you when you're crossing the street on the walk sign - is that 3 seconds REALLY going to get you there any faster, jackass?
Q - Quote from a movie: "life's like a movie, write your own ending, keep believing, keep pretending..."
R - Right or left handed: right
S - Siblings: brother
T - Time you wake up: 6:00 am
U- Umbrella*: yes... still haven't acclimated to the no umbrella rule
V - Vegetable you dislike: lima beans... that might actually be the only one
W - Weight: according to my cheap Target scale, 124, and while I don't believe it, I'm not arguing with it
X - X-rays you've had: teeth numerous times, abdomen (see overnight hospital stay above)
Y - Yummy food you make: any food I make is yummy, to me anyway - I just don't "make" food very often
Z - Zoo favorite: giraffes

________________
* Original U was underwear. What kind of answer does one put for that, other than "yes"? So I changed it.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

This, via icanhascheezburger.com...

Very reminiscent of this.

Oh, and also. I saw Coraline today. Can someone explain what all the fuss was about? I assume it was the animation, but from a novice's eye it looked no better or worse than any Pixar movie I've seen lately. But perhaps I was distracted by the 3-year old behind me who kept begging his mom to go home because the movie was clearly distressing him.

Where is that "you oughta have a license to be a parent" Facebook group... and get off my lawn!

But seriously, for a moment.

It's a bad sign when the 7am Sunday morning call from Mom is "just" that her brother passed away last night. Not to be callous - he was a great man, my favorite uncle perhaps, but his wife passed away last summer and they were that type of couple that it was really just a matter of time before he joined her.

It's just that I was sure this time, that it would be about my dad. I'm dreading that call immensely.

I'm also dreading any decisions I will need to make related to that. Deciding to put Her Majesty down last week was a pretty intense experience. Having the power to decide whether something lived or died, not being certain I was making the right call despite all the falling down and not eating and pathetic whiny mews, wishing she could speak actual words and let me know it was OK, that it was time. Watching her go was surreal. It happened so fast, and I felt helpless and relieved and sad and regretful all at once.

Having to do that with a person? I think I would throw up. But would that be worse than finding a parent who had passed, as my uncle's daughter did this morning?

When the time comes I'm sure I will deal with it however necessary, and worrying about it now isn't going to make it any easier. For now, I'll just worry about how to pay for the ticket back east. Eighteen months is too long to go without seeing your family.

Wednesday three.

Three signs I'm pretty sure Her Majesty's end is near, in no particular order:

• one of her ears droops (kind of like this, except that it's not as dramatic {yet?} and both creatures involved have black hair)... I have never seen or heard of that in a cat, and I'm pretty sure it's not an ear infection (and if it is, REALLY?? Angry Cat Gods, leave her be, will you?)
  
• she does a lot of groaning and high-pitched mewing instead of her normal annoyed meow, and she barely looked at me when I got home tonight
  
• she doesn't do that nauseatingly, heart-crushing, adorable half-hug thing anymore

I called her specialist for at-home vet euthanasia recommendations. I'm told I will know when it's "time."

So now, we wait...

We skipped Mt Rushmore too. Dorks.

Maryland -> California, August 1997.

Where the heck is Wall Drug? It's in South Dakota, along I-90 near the Badlands.

It's a bizarre little bumper-sticker place in the middle of nowhere, kind of like the Mystery Spot only without the gravitational anomalies. It's a kitschy highway rest stop, kind of like South of the Border only without the sombrero key chains. "FREE ADMISSION to this 76,000 square foot American Experience includes the Backyard with its Branding Iron Arcade, animated T-Rex, panning & mining experience for fossils and gemstones, Train Station Water Show & fun picture-taking props in a picnic area. Gourmet coffee shop! Pizza Parlor!" Now how much would you pay? But of course we had to stop, and we ended up spending way too much time there. Dorks.

Our next stop was the campground in the Badlands. We lucked out and got the last site in this bizarre little circle, then two of us hiked up to the top of the hill to take a picture. At some point we noticed a buffalo wandering (roaming?) about 50 feet outside the left side of this shot:

Our friend was in the tent napping. We feared for his life, but also for ours and therefore stayed put (dorks), and thankfully the buffalo roamed along. We didn't sleep much that night.

And then along I-90 in the Black Hills - some of the most amazing non-mountainous, non-canyony, non-national parkish scenery I have ever seen.


We toured the wind cave and headed up to Devil's Tower, where, upon realizing that to go up the monument we would have to pay $4/car, we just took a photo from afar. There were 3 of us in the car. It would've cost us $1.33 each to go up the monument. Dorks.

In honor of 2.5 upcoming days of mandatory fun, I bring you...

... a cool tree. Approximately NE Multnomah and NE 5th (?). Dunno, got off the train early to walk for a bit and look for something interesting on the way home. Not sure of the merit? Click on the photo and take a closer look.

I guess you could say I demanded it.

Before today I never took advantage of Netflix's "play" option, for a few reasons. Mostly because until about a month ago my computer desk chair was ridiculously uncomfortable (on purpose - didn't want to spend much time here). Also, I thought perhaps it cost more (it doesn't). Also because, much like my recent reversion to the actual CD instead of the digital album, I prefer to review the "cover," physically place it in the DVD player and go from there.

But today I had some ironing and no Netflix movies in hand. So I called up Conversations with Other Women and got introduced to this "play" concept.

It was rather reminiscent of the Before Sunrise/After Sunset films with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. If it had been cast with Catherine Zeta Jones, I would've used the 20-minute-me-no-likie rule and turned it off. But Helena brought a completely different depth to it. And of course I highly regard Aaron Eckhart's work, and in his whiny, 20-year-old-boy character I found something very familiar. (David, circa 2001?)

It was short. Got 90 minutes or so to spare while ironing, or need a filler between sending stuff back, I recommend it.

Another sort of (belated) Friday five.

Five things I will regain when Her Maj kicks the bucket*, in no particular order:

• 20 minutes a day, 10 minutes at 7am and 10 minutes at 7pm, that I spend making and administering her medical concoctions.
• the desire to live in a carpeted apartment.
• the 30 minutes I spend vacuuming every week, because she always has shed like a... a... well, like a cat.
• the ability to go on trips for just the cost of the trip.
• a lot more sleep** every night.
  

The biggest thing I will lose, other than an adorable furball full of unconditional love? That would be the perpetual "out" from awkward undesirable work-related happy hours. ("Um, sorry, can't make it, have to be home in an hour to give the cat her meds.")

________________
* You might think this is callous. It's not! You and I both KNOW she is going to drag this out for-EV-er... Damn cat.

** I will say, having a 4-lb cat go to sleep on your belly every night while you read, is much more pleasant than having a 12-lb cat settle there... but still.

Friday five.

Five things that made me happy this week, a week where I had pretty much run out of happy, in no particular order:

• Her Maj is eating regularly, at least for now.
• This American Life broadcast live in theaters across the nation, featuring a tearjerking (who knew?) story by Dan Savage, very funny stories by Starlee Kine and Mike Birbiglia, a sneak preview of the DVD commentary to Dr. Horrible as told by Joss Whedon (playing piano and performing for more than 9 people for the first time ever!), and of course, Ira Glass. If Sarah Vowell and/or Dave Eggers had been involved I would've died and gone to my own personal heaven. If you missed it, it's being rebroadcast May 7. Totally worth the $20 in my humble opinion. Aside from last Monday's acting class I haven't laughed that much in... suffice to say, a while.
  
• I may have found my new volunteer gig. It involves trees.
• I stuck to my picture-a-day goal. Not everything was captured well, or worth posting or publishing elsewhere, but I found something interesting or beautiful every day. This required creative outlet has been amazingly therapeutic. I won back my iPod after Lent but I still opt to leave it in my bag on the walk to and from the bus (or on the walk home if I have an hour to spare). I notice so much more that way.
  
• A guy I went to high school with put out an album that made its way to major record stores nationwide. On a whim I bought it and I like it a lot. I doubt he would appreciate comparisons but if you like things like White Stripes meets 60's pop meets catchy but not overly-so, check it out.
  

Compare and contrast.

I think I like the color one better, but the b/w shot is a more accurate representation of daily life in Portland.

A Friday five of sorts.

Today is Her Majesty's 11th birthday. Well, her "date 8 weeks later than the date I adopted her 11 years ago, when she was ~8 weeks old according to the staff at Berkeley Humane Society," anyway.

(My first tattoo had its birthday Wednesday and is now old enough for a driver's license permit, by the way. Happy birthday, Max! And damn, I'm old.)

Much like Her Majesty's lovely Christmas presents, I'm pretty sure she didn't want to hear the following five phrases uttered in a sterile cold vet exam room as her "happy birthday!" wishes:

• "... the fact that she's not responding to such a consistently high dose of prednisilone*, and the chemo-lite drug that usually works wonders had no effect either, is not a good sign."
  
• "... at this point other more invasive options would just do harm."
• "... where are you with all of this...?" {long pause} "I'm frustrated, she's still herself but she's clearly uncomfortable if not miserable, and I'm not going to be selfish about this... I think it's time to let it go."
• "... I think you're making the right call."
  
• "... when the time comes there are vets who do home euthanasia."

And so, she is now on "kitty hospice" which means no new drugs and possibly eliminating the existing twice daily prednisolone which seems to be doing more harm than good at this point. (I'm inquiring tomorrow after the last ditch test results are in.) And then waiting an undetermined period of time until she becomes someone other than Her Majesty (e.g. lethargic, catatonic, aggressive, etc) and calling the vet for an appointment with a high dose of anesthetics.

So anyway... happy birthday, Damn Cat.


________________
* High doses of prednisilone = lowered inflammation and generally, quick response and recovery BUT also = potential kidney and liver failure and also = accelerated muscle degeneration, ironically (given all those sports folks who use steroids as performance enhancers) which = Her Majesty not responding and in addition, falling off of chairs and beds a lot lately. So along with everything else I'm constantly worried that she'll crack a rib on the new cushy desk chair I bought while I'm at work one day.

Oh hai!

Whatcha reading?


Aw, man... not that Twilight crap again... Great. Guess I won't be getting much sleep for the next three days.

People at work will eat anything.

For the "new recipe" goal, on Sunday I decided to try these gluten-free, egg-free brownies. (I bought Ener-G Egg Replacer, but it looks like I could've used lots of other things I had handy too.)

They turned out okay - I think I should've mixed them longer because they were slightly gritty, and they probably could've used another minute in the oven, but between all the dark chocolate and butter you couldn't really tell.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon someone sent a note out about homemade cookies by X's office (I always love these - you can actually hear the stampede 2 seconds after the email is sent). I'd only let a few gluten-intolerant folks know about the brownies so that they were sure to get one. After the earlier email I sent out a note vouching that these were, at the very least, "interesting." Five minutes later they were gone.

And now, killing two goals with one stone, here they are:

Kings Canyon backpacking trip, 2002.

About three weeks before my 10-year high school reunion, I went on a week-long backpacking trip with some friends - Silver Divide loop out of Lake Edison. I had only car camped before this trip so I was a bit anxious about the logistics, the altitude and the pace we would be attempting (average 8-12 miles/day with 35 pound packs). But, okay, whatever. The friends I went with had done these types of hikes a zillion times so I was fairly optimistic, and I'd been pretty active at the gym for several months so it seemed like a reasonable endeavor.

I remember being at their house the night before we left. We were packing up our gear, and when I tried on my stocked pack for the first time I felt the blood drain from my body. There is just no way I am going to be able to do this, I thought. But I kept my reservations to myself figuring I'd either find a way, or I'd hang out at Lake Edison for a week while they had their adventure. That didn't sound so bad either.

The first day out, my concerns were still valid. We started mid-day and only went about 4 miles but it was pretty much straight up and I was hurting. The second day was pretty intense as well, but on day three we left our heavy packs at the campsite to check out a few lakes nearby. A 5-pound pack for a few hours, after a 35-pound pack for three days? I felt like skipping. In fact, I think I did.

Minnie Lake

Day four and five we saw so many amazing lakes, it reached a point where we'd look up, say, "oh, look at that amazing lake," and keep walking.

Glen Lake, near Purple lake, which really is purple when the sun sets (photos do no justice)

On the sixth day we reached the top of a particularly difficult summit and I remember exclaiming, "I feel GREAT!" My friend said it was because my muscles and lungs had finally adjusted. I thought it had more to do with the constant lack of oxygen. But I felt ready and willing to go another week.

It was pretty much downhill (literally) from there, and on the last night we camped at Mott Lake.

Mott Lake

This could very well be my favorite lake ever. Not just because it was at the end of a grueling week... I can't say why, exactly, but the serenity I felt at this lake was like nothing I'd felt before. Not sure I've felt it since, either.

One of the friends has since parted ways but I still enjoy memories of this trip, and I often look back at my photos and at the map he gave me. It was definitely the most physically challenging activity I'd ever attempted - and I survived. (And step class at the gym the next week? Piece of cake!) It was also the most subtle natural beauty I'd ever experienced.

The other friend hiked the Pacific Crest Trail a few years ago, where 20-mile days were the norm for six months straight. I simply cannot imagine living through that and it fills me with pride to know that she did. So while I probably won't embark upon such a trek, I'd like to do another week(ish)-long trip at some point, perhaps in my dear Rockies. What say you, Ghost?

Inspiration point.

I went on a long hike with a friend from work today (she promised that it counted as a "Portland thing" even though it was an hour outside of Portland). We got to talking about places we'd been and where we still wanted to go. I had a sudden, very pleasant revelation that I've seen more of the country and the world than most people, and that I need to remember that on a more daily basis.

I've been a bit at a loss of what to write about lately. So when I got home I scanned in a bunch of photos from my journeys, and I'll be sharing travel stories when I don't have anything else interesting to report.

But first, my new screen saver:

(Columbia River Gorge from Dog Mountain)

Braxton Hicks spring.

Monday was a lovely day for free cake at Pioneer Square (in honor of its 25th birthday) - 80 degrees, sunny, awesome.

Today was 50 degrees, overcast, equally awesome. Here's a little pink snow at the Lloyd Center MAX...

... and a little pink flower action at SW 3rd and Jefferson.

I have always preferred the reflection of the building to the building itself.

________________
Subject adopted from this.

"Arriving at one point is the starting point to another."

The first quarter of this year has disappeared faster than you can say "holy shit where has the time gone," and suddenly April is here. As previously mentioned, I did a pretty shoddy job on 1Q goals:

• run 10 miles - collectively throughout 1Q? yes. ultimately? nope.
  
• read at least one book a month - yes! January, plus more than one in February (exhibit a, exhibit b) and March (exhibit a, exhibit b, exhibit c)... seriously, people, I think I read one book in 2008 (excluding Buffy comics) so this is really progress, plus I've also theoretically joined two book groups
  
• road trip - possibly the Newport Seafood & Wine Festival? - nope... somehow the whale watching excursion slipped my mind during the hard drive cleanup debacle last weekend but it's back now, I'll have to investigate future possibilities
• and from the list, my first acting class was last Monday... it was weird... but there was potential... we'll see how that goes
  

It's been a tough three months, between Damn Cat and Damn Job and various other Damn factors, so all in all I'm happy with my achievements. And now, spring is here (at least for the next two days) and it's inspiring.

(One of these things is not like the others,
one of these things just doesn't belong,
can you tell which thing is not like the others
by the time I finish my song?)

But anyway, it is time to declare second quarter goals. The first unwritten goal is to keep reading a lot, but the actual written ones are:

• Go back to doing one "Portland" thing a week (interested to see how this goes - finding out about stuff is easy, it's the "doing" part that is always the challenge)
  
• Try a new recipe once a week (let the record show that I already know this one is gonna be hard - too set in my one-pan eating ways... but I now get Martha's magazine in addition to Sunset so between the two there's gotta be something worth making)
• Take at least one picture a day, of anything (I've signed up for a Photoshop class which will encourage this - although I've also mentally resigned myself to taking a walk or two during the day at work (rain or shine) where I always take my camera, and I always see something photo-worthy... today I saw an anti-minivan bumper sticker on a minivan and if I hadn't been driving, that would've been today's featured shot)

Ready, set, go!

________________
Title of this post complements of John Dewey.

Early Friday five.

Five quotes from I Am a Cat, which I didn't love but I found the cat's narrative very entertaining, and which even non-cat people will appreciate, in no particular order:

• "I move forward between the woodpile and the coal heap, turn left and find a glazed window to my right. On the ledge below, a considerable number of small round tubs is piled into a pyramid. My heart goes out to them, for it must be painfully contrary to a round thing's concept of reality to be constricted within a triangular world."
• "I desire to pray for success in war by worshiping my honored Great Tail Gracious Deity, so I lower my head a little, only to find I am not facing in the right direction. When I make the three appropriate obeisances I should, of course, as far as it is possible, be facing toward my tail. But as I turn my body to fulfill that requirement, my tail moves away from me. In an effort to catch up with myself, I twist my neck. But still my tail eludes me. Being a thing so sacred, containing as it does the entire universe in its three-inch length, my tail is inevitably beyond my power to control. I spun round in pursuit of it seven and a half times but, feeling quite exhausted, I finally gave up. I feel a trifle giddy. For a moment I lose all sense of where I am and, deciding that my whereabouts are totally unimportant, I start to walk about at random..."
• "In my opinion, there is nothing more unbecoming in the human type than its indecent habit of sleeping with the mouth left open. Never in a lifetime would a cat be caught in such degenerate conduct... The result is not only unsightly, but could indeed, when rat shit drops from the rafters, involve real risk to health."
• "Anyway, human beings being the nitwits that they are, a purring approach to any of them, either male or female, is usually interpreted as proof that I love them, and they consequently let me do as I like, and on occasions, poor dumb creatures, they even stroke my head."
• "Actually, a mirror is a sinister thing. I'm told it takes real courage, alone at night, in a large room lit by a single candle, to stare into a mirror. Indeed the first time that my master's eldest daughter shoved a mirror in front of my face, I was so simultaneously startled and alarmed that I ran around the house three times without stopping."
  

Early Wednesday three.

Three movies I did not like, in no particular order:

• Changeling. Oscar nominated? Really? Angie repeated three lines ("he's not my son!", "did you kill my son?" and "I'm not your mother!") for two hours and this won her a nomination? Meh.
  
• The Contract. Oh, John. Why do you taunt me so? I keep hoping upon hope for some redemption, but anything after Identity has been a letdown. I couldn't even finish this. (It's okay, I'll still marry you though.)
  
• Sleepwalking. Nick Stahl's character was vaguely interesting. I didn't finish this one either.
  

Hmm. I seem to be getting selective with free time in my old age. I remember a time when I would stick something out until the end, optimistically thinking it would get better. Now I give a film 20 minutes, and if it doesn't grab me, I'm done.

Monkey mania.

(Never washing that hand again...
just kidding, washing it immediately, but still...)

(Whenever a Very Bouncy Animal arrives
in the forest and you are told he has
just come, the thing you should ask is:
"When is he going?" ~ Winnie the Pooh)

How's YOUR vision?

See if you can spot the aforementioned elusive silky anteater.

Yeah? It's RIGHT THERE, right? No fair, you had the benefit of my friend's new camera with stellar zoom.

I am Jack's bitter regret.

What I should've asked him, dammit, was whether he actually knew Myla Goldberg, the sister of a girl I was good friends with in high school who wrote a fantastic book that was turned into a terrible movie. That would've been a great question.

(This has been plaguing me ever since I first heard the song named after her five years ago. Of course all I had to to find the answer was JGFI, which I just now did, and lo and behold.)

DAMMIT!!

Interesting facts about the number four.

It has a lot of religious, spiritual, natural and otherwise meanings. It's considered unlucky by many Chinese folks. It's a stabilizer in the Tarot-reading world. Its aura is red and orange and it sounds like F#.

It's also how many pounds Her Majesty now weighs. So that's pretty awesome.

The vet specialist (VS) apparently hasn't seen a cat not respond to what we've tried, so I guess in her own special, annoying way Her Maj is helping VS learn something new. Next up, if the next week goes reasonably OK, is probably IV injections of a kickass chemo drug or immuno-suppressant, both of which have their pluses and minuses.

DAMN CAT.

On the up side, her tiny size makes toting her to the car in her carrier much easier. When she was 12 pounds I had to use both hands.

If only she were a little bastard, I could just hate her and be over this. But she's so darned cute, kind of like this guy:

(white-nosed coati, relative of the raccoon)

Got more photos from the vacation today. Look for updates soon.

Jen(n) is a dork.

Around 5pm today I learned that the Decemberists were doing a CD signing at Music Millennium in honor of their dark, troubling masterpiece which came out today. It was to start at 6pm. I had stayed home sick but I could've been bleeding out of every hole in my head and I wouldn't have missed that, so I scurried over, unshowered and barely presentable (I think I did brush my teeth at least), and got in line.

During the 1 hr 15 minute wait, I tried to come up with something clever, interesting or funny to say or ask so that I wasn't just a dork with a poster. Lots of things came to mind but as soon as it was my turn, as soon as I was standing two feet from Colin Meloy, my brain froze. "Hi," I said shyly, pushing my poster toward him.

THINK THINK THINK! You're clever, you're funny, COME ON!

"Um," I said, but then he was done, so I said "thanks" and moved along. Jenny and Chris were bantering about baseball and asked me who I would root for if I was watching a Yankees/Red Socks game. "Red Socks! My Boston friends would kill me otherwise." They nodded in agreement and thanked me for coming. And I was on my way.

I had my camera with me, but I didn't want to be a loser doing the one-armed self-portrait on top of already being a dork, and really, let's be honest here, I love them all but I just wanted a picture with Colin and that would've been odd.

But they were all very nice as one would expect and I'm going to laminate this poster immediately and shut the door on this entirely dorky experience. Can you imagine if I were to ever run into Joss Whedon? I'd be an utter mess.

(Have I mentioned that I LOVE THIS TOWN?!)

Distant cousins?

(circa 1999, when she was still fat)

(circa 2009)

Two no's and a yes, immediately.

In Bruges: just couldn't do it. Just couldn't bring myself to watch Colin Farrell for that length of time. Plus that was holding up the next installment of Dexter Season 2 which was the finale which was making me very cranky. I'm sure I enjoyed Dexter much more.

How's Your News?: Arthur Bradford was a guest at a recent Live Wire show, and after assuring the audience that this wasn't about exploitation he played a few clips from the original documentary. As a result, I queued it the next day. Sweet, charming, restoring your faith in humanity one minute at a time. I guess there's now an MTV show which I won't watch because it's on MTV. But there's also a web site with lots of clips including this one where they interview folks like Will.i.am and The Shins on the red carpet at the Grammys. (Watch until the end of this clip - priceless.) And there's a documentary "on the 2004 campaign trail" which I would love to see...

Vicky Christina Barcelona: tried really hard to get through this. Gave up after about 40 minutes, even though that was just the start of Penelope's performance. Scarlett specifically, and the story overall, just bugged me. I hope to enjoy a Woody Allen film again someday, but until then I will just watch Annie Hall over and over.

Tonight's viewing involves Twilight. Does that officially take me from nerd to dork? Inquiring minds want to know. (But but but it was filmed in my state! That counts for something, right?)

Questions.

Would it be wrong to offer a half-eaten bag of Munchies to a homeless man holding a sign asking for donations? Before you judge, know that I bought the bag at Target because I had more errands to run and after eating a way-too-healthy vegan Reuben sandwich earlier today, nothing else remotely appealed to me at that moment. I've eaten all I will ever eat from that bag, and I hate to waste food. Well, "food."

Another question. What is the proper response to a pink-haired male cashier at OfficeMax asking to shake your hand because you're one of their smartest customers for buying the $10 3-year warranty on a $70 computer chair? I said sure and shook his hand... but it just seemed odd on so many levels.

(New chair is awesome, by the way. I finally opted to replace the Ikea plastic piece of crap I bought last May with a real chair because I signed up for a Photoshop online class, and as a result I'll probably be spending more time here in the coming weeks. And also because I watch so much TV on the interweb these days, and dragging the big comfy chair over got annoying after the second time I did that.

Maybe one day I'll actually spring for a laptop and wireless and watch stuff online from the comfort of my couch or bed like all YOU people! Give me a few more years.)

All caught up and nowhere to go.

I am officially up to date on Lost, Dollhouse and Dexter (well, to the degree Netflix will let me be caught up with Dexter).

I'm not sold on Dollhouse yet. I appreciate Joss using the talents of Fred, Helo and Faith but frankly, between those guys and the smart-Andrew-look-alike and the British-accented head honcho, I'm having trouble remembering what show I'm watching. And some of the stories are familiar, or otherwise unoriginal. I also think I have a fundamental issue with the premise, as in "surely this is already happening somewhere in real life," but I'm willing to overlook that. I'll give it time, since the quirky banter keeps me interested, but until then Faith really needs to work on her blind girl act and Joss needs to step it up a bit.

I think I'm going to hold out on BSG. The marathons are just too much fun. Which means I have at least 5 hours to kill tonight... the horror!

Correction.

Forget that 10 mile run. My new goal is to go to the gym on a semi-regular basis, keep up with strength training, and maintain my current weight plus or minus 5 pounds. This is out of respect and admiration for my knees, which I will need (in healthy form) when I move to Costa Rica to work on an eco-farm.

And also? Running 10 miles in one session? Borrrrrr-ring. At least until Lent is done and I get my iPod back. (Dumb dumb dumb.)

Otherwise, doing well on the 1Q goals. I'm two books ahead of schedule and I think a whalewatching trek is in order next weekend or the one after.

Incidentally, #22 on the list starts on the 30th. Annnnnd... scene!

Last belated Friday five.

Finally, five good stories from Costa Rica, in no particular order...

• Two days into uncivilized jungle territory deep in Costa Rica, we were incredibly startled by three non-uncivilized jungle things: 1) a gray cat wandering around the outdoor cafe where we ate dinner, 2) some sort of house or car alarm near the lodge, and 3) people! sitting in a car! in the parking lot! the horror!

• My friend's watch stopped the morning of our last day. And isn't it ironic.

• During the mangrove boat tour, the boat driver stopped so that we could observe a silky anteater - a rare treat, as this is a nocturnal animal. It looks like this. (This image is important to the story.) My friend saw it right away through her binoculars; I had the guide's binoculars but try as I might, I could not locate the sucker. After at least 10 minutes of various people pointing, as well as the boat driver using a mirror to shine a light on the creature, I finally asked, "Is it near that brown leaf?" The guide kind of laughed and said, "It IS that brown leaf." Turns out, I'd been looking at it the whole time. I noted to the guide that I clearly needed to go to Africa because the animals are much larger and easier to spot there. He agreed.
  

• On the drive from the zipline to Manuel Antonio National Park, we stopped at a lovely beachfront hotel for lunch. The guide recommended I try the soursop fruit drink, so I asked what the Spanish word for "soursop" was. "Guanabana" was his reply. I had to ask him to repeat it twice and then spell it because it was such an odd word. The driver, who was dining with us and hadn't said more than three words to us (in Spanish, no less) the entire time, said, "You know, like the Muppets song - Mahna mahna! Doot doo, do do do. Mahna mahna!" And thus, the bond between me and the driver was sealed for all eternity and Jim Henson knows no boundaries. (PS - soursop is amazing. Neither sour nor soppy.)
  

• The last day, our taxi didn't show up to take us to the local airport which would transport us to San Jose International. The hotel manager was kind enough to drive us, and we stood in a very long line fretting because the taxi was supposed to have all of our flight information. So we got to the front of the line, having missed what we thought was our flight, and the guy couldn't find our reservation. At this point we were totally panicking - I think I said something to the extent of "I was just kidding about not wanting to leave" - when a pilot came over to the desk and mentioned our names. Turns out we had a private plane back to San Jose. We turned our noses up at the lowly commoners taking the public jets (well, we didn't really, but it was funny to think about doing so) and boarded our private plane back to the big airport.

My favorite story is the one where I was hanging out solo in the pool at the last hotel, just watching the ocean waves and admiring the view, and a little lizard walked over and we just sat there, watching the waves and admiring the view, in perfect solitude and contentment.

(the little guy on the left was my ocean-gazing friend; the guy on the right appeared the last day)

Second favorite story involves monkeys. (I'm sure you're shocked.) On the boat tour I was offered the opportunity to give the monkeys some fresh water, which entailed holding a plastic container of water and letting them come to me (video coming soon). Most of them kept their distance, sipping carefully from the plastic container and then running away to pretend the boat awning was a trampoline (video coming soon). But one of the monkeys wanted a little more balance so he put his little hand on my hand... and my heart just about melted. I really hope video of that is coming soon.

And finally finally finally, a PS for the CHM: The best Costa Rican coffee is grown at 3000 feet in volcanic soil. It's organic and wonderful and magical. Due to luggage constraints I couldn't bring any home with me, but I found a great cafe that delivers, and I will be sending you some at some point... No monkey poop involved.

More belated Friday fives.

Five things you might not know about Costa Rica, in no particular order...

• This is possibly the most eco-friendly country in the world. They are conveniently located near lots of water, so that helps. At least 40% of their power is hydro-electric, another 10% comes from wind turbines, an unconfirmed amount (depending on who you ask) comes from two of their four active volcanoes and they will be expanding that to all four in the near future, and they are working on generating power from sewage water (using the gas generated to run laundry machines and other non-food-related types of equipment). Their hotels and lodges are rated on "leaves" - how eco-friendly they are - not "stars." We mostly stayed at 4-5 "leaf" places and I was quite impressed with the CFLs, recycling, organic/local foods during meals and various other eco efforts. In fact, this is such an eco-friendly country that we passed a bullfighting ring on the way to the first lodge, and the guide explained that because they care so much about animals, the bulls are never killed - instead of the usual matador routine, people are paid to try to pull the tail of the bull. That's as violent as it gets.
  
  

Lost Iguana Lodge path lamps, powered by CFLs!

• They have four species of monkeys: the howler, the spider, the squirrel and the white-faced capuchin. I saw three of these and have photographic evidence of seeing two of these. The squirrel monkey is apparently quite elusive, as is the red-eyed tree frog (much to my dismay). I will just have to go back to see those guys.

Howler

White faced capuchin, in the normal resting stance on the tour boat

• At least 33% of their land is protected through the National Park Ministry or private efforts.
  
  

Arenal - hanging bridges tour

Manuel Antonio National Park

• In 1988 they lost three species of toads and declared "global warming" a reality. Almost 20 years later, most people are finally agreeing.

Marine toad - not extinct, obviously... these guys were everywhere in Tortuguero

• And here comes the socialist in me... They have universal health care. If I'd injured myself on vacation I would've been taken care of, free of charge. And? The country has no army. It was abolished in 1948 after the then-President saw too many people killed in their own civil war during WW2. (The then-President also left the country in the hands of the people via a democratic society.) If anyone should decide to invade them, as some have attempted since the 1940s, they benefit from the protection of the U.S. because we have a very vested interest in their country. Well, Intel has a very vested interest, at least. They employ 6,000 people in exchange for free water to make silicon chips. Anyway, military money was filtered into education instead and it shows - I think our guide said the country was 95% literate. Astounding. Only very remote rural kids don't benefit from a basic education, and most kids go on to University which is pretty reasonably priced. Costa Ricans are very proud of their non-military status. Some locals postulate that it attributes greatly to their quality of life... and I would agree.
  

And five useful words/phrases I learned in Costa Rica, in no particular order except the first, most important one...

• pura vida - the equivalent of "hakuna matata." It means "no worries, it's all good." This is how people greet each other, say goodbye to each other, comment on meals and activities, etc. I think this also contributes greatly to their quality of life.
  

• lizano - the best salsa ever
  

• gallo pinto - pictured below with slightly butchered platanos before I thought to take a photo, the best meal ever... with casado coming in at a close second
  
  
• pajita - straw
  

• rana - frog (how did I not know this word, of all words?!)
  

Red poison dart frog

More belated Friday five(s).

Five things that seemed like a good idea at the time, in no particular order...

• Catching up on the last few episodes of Lost (where they go back to the island) right before I personally head onto an international flight across a large body of water.
  

• The Live Broadway channel on Continental. (Had high hopes. Turned out to be lots o'crap - Taylor Swift doing a remake of a Wicked song? holy crap they really did make Legally Blonde the Musical - and it's terrible? etc. But then to my shock, they played an Avenue Q song! And some of the oldie musicals were fun to hear.)

• Bringing the one book that I haven't been able to get past chapter 4 with, despite several attempts, figuring that being stuck for days at a time would force me to read it. The first night I had a repeat occurrence of the nightmare so I packed it away for good and resigned myself to boredom (if howler monkeys, cool birds, geckos, iguanas and poison dart frogs can be considered "boredom"). The next day, a rainy day, I ran across the second book in the Twilight series in the lodge's lobby. Without having read the first, I dove right in and it was all downhill from there. Got halfway through before leaving, found the first book at the next lodge and as soon as I finished that, the second magically appeared and I finished that one too. And I'm selling that stupid non-readable book back to Powell's immediately. (Possibly trading it in for the third and fourth in the Twilight series. But that's just between you and me.)
  

• Giving up my iPod for Lent even though those 960 hours included two eight-hour flights. DUMB DUMB DUMB.
  

• Skipping the tetanus shot renewal until my next physical. I went seven days with no worries, but on the last small plane ride back to San Jose I sliced my palm on a random piece of rusty metal when the seat belt wouldn't fasten before take-off. It's been 18 hours, I'm still alive and my hand hasn't turned yellow, the wound seems to have healed, but still... I watch House. I know these things happen. (As with potential malaria, for which I took no pills and sprayed no DEET before heading into the swamp for my hike and getting eaten alive, please just get me out of work for a few weeks but don't kill me, okay?)

Belated Friday five.

Five reasons I desperately needed a vacation, in no particular order...

• It's been 40 degrees and rainy since about January. (Oddly, that didn't bother me too much, until I spent the last three days in 90 degree weather lounging by the ocean only to return to 30 degrees and snowing this morning.)

• If I'm not going to support the U.S.'s economy, I might as well support some country's economy.

• Taking care of a very sick (but beloved) cat is probably much like taking care of a sick (but beloved) parent, although at least the parent might be able to tell you exactly what's wrong or where they hurt, and if they don't take their meds you can just put it in their IV without their knowledge instead of having to wrap them tightly in a towel, sit on top of them, hold their head back, pry their mouth open and force-feed them. The night before I left, I was so freaked out about getting all four pages (!) of Her Majesty's instructions written up and emailed to the catsitter that in addition to sending it to her, I also sent it erroneously to 1) the coordinator at the travel company, 2) my parents, 3) my friend in Pasadena who is not at all involved in any of this and 4) my local friend who was to be my petsitter's spare key contact. (You know how gmail generates a drop down list when you start typing in a few of the letters in an address? Yeah, well, I must've somehow chosen all those folks in addition to the catsitter. And none of those folks needed detailed information on my cat's disgusting GI disease.)

• My last interesting vacation (Australia) was almost exactly six years ago. SIX YEARS!! The last time I gave blood in Oaktown before the big move, I realized I no longer had to claim that vacation in the "external US travels" question... and it made me so very sad.

• Monkeys. MONKEYS! 'Nuff said.