...and i'm spent

I did it. Yay me!

shut my mouth

For those of you keeping track, I'm teething again. Fuck. I don't know what it is about this time of year (could it be the pie?), but I don't know what to do. Except pound the Advil and use my prescription mouthwash, and contemplate the vicodin but probably not take it. I suppose I could just get my wisdom teeth taken out, but at this point I'm more afraid of getting oral surgery than a little pain.

So maybe it's my fault for getting cocky with yesterday's post but tonight I'm tired, cranky (oh yeah, I lost my chicken at work today, only two days after the Fabulous evaluation) and I really wanted to watch the end of Tim Gunn's Guide to Style but the sink was leaking and I had to help Mr. Bump clean it up. There's no point in just watching the beginning of a makeover show without the payoff. Does anyone know if Lori wore a short dress that showed off her scar?

Sigh. I have no reason to bitch, however. I didn't get my jaw cut apart this week like our dear friend C. We're thinking about you and wincing for you so you don't have to do more than take the vicodin and drink the chocolate ensure milkshake!

i thought it would be harder

Two more days of NaBloPoMo. Well, I'm in the home stretch. I'm actually surprised at how easy it has been to blog every day, both the find the time and, at least for the most part, have something to say. I truly thought I would struggle with it more.

That isn't to say that I haven't struggled with what to say. But just knowing I had to put something up here got me over the struggle to figure out what to say. And that's a good lesson. Working under pressure has its merits, for sure. Each night, if I haven't figured something out beforehand, I curl up on the bed, turn on the tv, and crack my knuckles over the laptop.

At some point Mr. Bump will call up the stairs "Are you blogging or clicking?" and I'll call back down, "Yes!"

And then at some point I'll try to figure out a good way to end my post, often relying on epanalepsis. But at this point, I'll settle for just coasting through the last too days.

oooh! Does that count? Did I do it again?

P.S. By the way, I'm late to the party but I just saw Knocked Up. F*ing high-larious.

food fight movie night

What are your favorite food-related movies? I saw these two lists and it got me thinking.

1. Mostly Martha would be on mine. Probably at the top.
2. Ratatoutille would be on it too.
3. Eat Drink Man Woman is a beautiful film, which contemplates the restorative power of food.
4. Big Night. Trivia - Marc Anthony plays their bus boy.
5. I liked Babette's Feast as well.
6. The Fabulous Destiny of Amelie Poulin. The great scene where she slips her hand in a barrel of beans? The "crack" of the sugar on the creme brulee!
7. Big, actually. Junk food. Caviar. Baby corn!
8. Supersize Me--particularly the DVD with the piece about the fries. Shiver.
9. Like Water for Chocolate. Sexy food.
10. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. The original, please. But the remake was good too.

We'll stop at that, and because I can't think of any others. If you think of some I forgot, mention them in the comments! It may be because I haven't seen them!

the fabulous fabulosity of fabulous me

Who gets an evaluation at work that contains the word fabulous in it? And not in a "she always looks so fabulous" kind of way. In a "she is fabulous at her job" kind of way.

That would be me. Mmm-hmm.

taking back the house pat benatar-style

I just heard a train whistle outside my very urban window. I wonder where it's coming from? There it goes again! I hope I'm not imagining it, but if I am, that might be interesting, too.

I completely lost my train of thought (ha ha) there. Now, what was I going to tell you? Ah yes, today we attempted to take back the house from the crap that has overtaken it like kudzu. We were relatively successful, and I did manage to switch out my summer and winter wardrobes, run a couple of loads of laundry and a couple of loads of dishes, wade through the catalog stack and return all those seat cushions for our new chairs that just didn't quite work. But.

But I didn't manage to get out any of the Christmas decorations or tree, or put away the Halloween decorations (although they are mostly down and in a big pile in front of the front door to be taken down to the garage. Also, we have lost an area in our living room that would previously been dedicated to the tree (we bought a new loveseat), so that's part of the dilemma. Mr. Bump has already suggested not putting the tree up. Which is just wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

So we're about halfway there. But, there are new sheets on the bed as well as the mattress pad warmer (I highly recommend for the colder climes). Oh, and I bought a new coat! Although mine doesn't chop my head off in quite that way.


So winter, hit me with your best shot. Go ahead--fire away!

barely legal

We went to a birthday party for a 21 year old tonight. I can't believe I was ever that young. Wait, yes I can! It doesn't seem that long ago, really. At 21 I was in my senior year of college, trying to figure out where I wanted to go to graduate school, if I wanted to go to graduate school, and getting this sick feeling in my stomach like this wonderful school thing wasn't going to last forever. At some point I was actually going to have to do something with a creative writing degree. I didn't drink much, pretty much didn't do any drugs. I read a lot, watched way too much TV, and went to lots of theater productions on campus for free with all my theater friends. I slept a lot. I wrote a senior thesis on M.F.K. Fisher and the language of food. I was becoming the very heart of what I consider to be me. I don't look back on those times and wish I had gone out more, maybe dated, or joined more on-campus activities. I don't wish I'd gotten drunk and hooked-up with some guy I didn't remember meeting the next day. I think I was really seeking myself, and that happened more inwardly than most of the people I knew. I wasn't comfortable being the center of attention (still really am not), and I didn't need a large circle or a lot of people around me to make me feel good. Maybe I'm deluding myself--I'm sure there were plenty of nights I hated being alone and cried and thought I would never find anyone to love, or anyone to love me. But I remember being content to let the future hang out there beyond me, with all its beautiful potential still intact.

I hope that the 21 year-old we know still feels this way. We should all feel this way at 21. Somehow, even at 33, I feel like I should be able to feel this way, but I can't. It seems I've slipped through windows of options that have narrowed the possibilities. I can no longer be a New York City publishing editor. I probably can't be a talk show host. I'm definitely not going to be a dancer. But I have love. I have a wonderful family. And I have great lifelong friends who may not always be in my day-t0-day life, but they will always be in my life.

And there's still that baby thing--I've still got that one hanging out there. And I've still got you, blogiverse.

friday: the nougaty center of thanksgiving weekend

After a long day of laying around reading, eating more turkey and mashed potatoes and pie (of course), and then watching a movie in the evening, I find myself too exhausted to blog about much. However, I will say that the only things I bought today were purchased either at Walgreens or Safeway, so I think I managed to avoid the worst of the cursed Black Friday. We spent the evening watching one of my purchases, the movie version of Persuasion, which I picked up at the Safeway. Supermarkets are amazing places these days. We also somehow managed to buy four more bags of Halloween candy at 75 cents apiece. You know, because we might run out of candy between now and when all the Christmas candy starts rolling in. This year was less a Black Friday than a chocolate Friday.

One final bit of thanks--I'm very thankful that I didn't have to work today, like I did last year. I mean, I would have missed the pie and Persuasion. Ah, Captain Wentworth is a choo-choo Charlie!

belly up to the pie

Well, the company has gone home and everyone has slumped down in their chair with their book or curled up in someone's lap dozing away. It was a wonderful, perfect, laughingly chatty Thanksgiving. Many of the people I love were all in the same room. And there were five kinds of pie.

I'm so thankful that my parents were able to come over the Mrs. Bump's house and have dinner with us. It was the first Thanksgiving in a very long time that I didn't feel torn about wherever I had chosen to eat dinner.

I'm so thankful that my mother-in-law's skin cancer Mohs surgery (note--before you click over there, I'm warning you there are pictures) went well, even if she's sporting a dent in her head. She's tired and her head hurts, but she's currently cancer free.

I'm also thankful for my Mr. Bump, who has loved me fat and not-as-fat, manic and grumpy, sick and healthy. He's my best friend, my sous chef, my backgammon partner and my voice of reason.

I'm grateful for my little warm puppy, all her joy and energy that wiggles out of her stub of a tail. I'm also grateful for when she's so exhausted she crashes up against my leg and sighs her fat, contented sigh.

I'm thankful for my friends, who almost without exception live elsewhere, but still make an effort to see me when they can. I miss you all so much!

I'm thankful for this stupid blog, which allows me someplace to put my thoughts. Sometimes I hope that the only people reading this are people I know, and sometimes I hope the only people reading this are people I've never met. I allow myself the illusion of a grand following when it benefits me, and when its better that I'm the only one reading this, then I switch over to that delusion.

And last, but certainly not least, I'm thankful for the five kinds of pie.

Happy Thanksgiving, all y'all!

its a winta wondaland!

This has been such a lovely fall that I think we all forgot what fall is really like here on the plains. The answer is c-c-c-c-cold. There was some kind of Arctic Thunder (let me tell you--the arcade version of the game is a lady's best friend--just trust me) gust coming down from the North Pole. But then I think because it was such a lovely, languorous fall, we all just rolled around in it like it was never going to end. And end, it has. On Monday it was 80 degrees by 4:00. By yesterday at noon the temperature had started to plummet like the White Witch had flown in for the Thanksgiving holiday. The high today was something like 25 degrees.

It has been cold cold cold, which is much harder to take than just snowing. There is something magical about the snow falling, swirling around you like you're in some kind of enormous snow globe. But the cold just makes you clench your teeth and put your head down to get through it. I didn't feel like I could truly appreciate wearing the new hat I bought in Iceland this summer for the first time. And that's just sad.

The heat was on when I got home from work today, which to most people wouldn't be a big deal, but it was surprising because that just doesn't happen that often. We keep our house at 60 degrees when we're home, and 55 when we're asleep or gone during the day. The heat hasn't probably come on in the afternoon like that since March, so it is noteworthy. People look at us like we're a little crazy when I tell them that (actually there is a group that think we're crazy, and then there is the group that are impressed--they wouldn't quite dare 60 degrees), but really, most of the time Mr. Bump and I run hot anyway, and if we're cold we put on a sweater or a nice lap blanket. We drink lots of tea, chai and cocoa in the winter, and we have invested in a wonderful mattress pad warmer. But don't get the impression that we suffer through the winter to keep our heat bill down. We just leave the house at the lowest possible temperature that keeps our nose from running and the pipes from freezing. We're just doing our part.

And of course, now is the season for cold weather, because, like last night, our oven runs much more often in the winter. Last night we cooked dinner, made two pies and a loaf of bread in it, which was enough heat not only to prevent the heater from kicking in but warm enough to prompt Mr. Bump to open the windows and turn on the attic fan to cool the house down.
Now is the part where you look at us like we're crazy.

The whole weekend is supposed to be cold, but that's ok. We'll do what we always do after Thanksgiving. Rather than going shopping for all that discounted loot on Black Friday, we sleep in, eat pie for breakfast in our pajamas and read books start to finish in front of the fire. I know, I know. I'm lucky. And believe me, I'm thankful for it.

Happy Thanksgiving! I'll see you on the other side of a big mound of mashed potatoes and gravy.

hey ma, guess what? no cavities!

That's right, I had a dentist appointment and all is well inside my mouth! Are you glad? I'm glad you're glad. To celebrate the no cavities I believe I will be diving into another fistful of milkduds tonight. I'm just that wicked. And willful.

So now we begin the campaign called Operation Turkeybird. Tonight's agenda includes the baking of two pies (one pecan and one apple) and then a loaf of sourdough bread. If I have time I'll post something over here about the pies. We're pitting two different pie dough recipes against each other this year, so we'll see how they do.

Also, thanks to Mr. Hoover I'm addicted to this fun way to kill an hour or several.

Also tonight I'm getting my hair cut, so let's hope I'm not so hopped up on milkduds that I do something carazy. Like a faux-hawk.

perhaps not

If I eat a few milk duds while I'm walking home from the bus, do I lose all the health benefits of the walk? What about the health benefits of the milk duds? Those, of course, being your recommended daily dose of poly phenol-rich caramel and anti-oxidant dense chocolate. All that poly phenol goodness. Mmmmmm.

christmas time's a' comin'

The following catalogs* were in our mail from the weekend:

1. Chico's I do not know why I get this as I have never bought or worn or given anyone a gift from this catalog or store. Also I am not old enough to wear this stuff.
   
2. Duluth Trading Company I bought my dad a pair of suspenders for Christmas last year.
   
3. Sur La Table There is a sexy scale I've been eyeing in this one.
   
4. The Sharper Image I do not know why I get this one as it is for boys. And I have not shopped for my boys from it.
   
5. Fair Indigo This seems interesting. I do not know this one. It may make the perusal cut.
   
6. Ulta Local beauty product store with special deals for people with a card. I have a card but I can never find it when I go there.
   
7. Fossil I bought a new watch this year. I loved it but I've already chipped the face.
   
8. Patagonia Oh, oh! I have a pair of shoes (yes, they have shoes now) from here that I love love love.
   
9. Plow & Hearth Somebody buys you a basket for your pistachios four years ago and forever you will get this catalog.
   
10. Herrington This appears to be the bastard step-child of Plow & Hearth, and you will get it forever as well.
    
11. Land's End This is the classic, ginormous catalog. A staple of the season.
    
12. Wine Country Gift Basket - ???
    
13. REI Winter Sale Could be there is something for someone for Christmas here.
    
14. The Company Store Ah, warm and wooby stuff.
    
15. World Vision Gift Catalog We usually get a gift of livestock from here from Mrs. Bump. If you're on the fence about gift giving, this is a really nice one to give. And to get.
    
16. J Jill They have nice pants.
    
17. Barnes & Noble Holiday Catalog I have a membership card thing-y from them.
    
18. Sundance Can't afford anything from here but it sure is purty.
    
19. Rockler Woodworking & Hardware This one is Mr. Bump's.

There was also a "Happy Thanksgiving" card from our dentist, who totally defeated the purpose of choosing a non-religious holiday on which to send a card by putting a CD of holiday songs in with the card.

Also, the waiting is over. I got the form letter from the ob/gyn--everything is normal in the PAP department! Yeah, and you thought blepharitis was an overshare.

We have got to get the mail more often.

*note: All catalogs will be placed in the recycling bin once they have been rejected, discarded, or used for ordering purposes.

100 things about me, volume II (actually III, with that post with "5 more things")

31. I am very, very impatient. Like I'm over this list already.

32. I hate mayonnaise, hard boiled eggs, tuna, pickles of any kind. If something smells bad to me, I won't eat it.

33. I love licorice, soft runny cheeses, and spray cheese in a can.

34. If I think something should be hot, I can't eat it cold. No cold pizza. No sushi. (Sorry--I've tried! I really have!)

35. I feel I am a feminist but if I could swing it I would make Mr. Bump drive all the time. Mostly so I could read my book.

36. The reason Mr. Bump makes me drive (or one of them) is because he wants to read his book.

37. I dream of never having to clean my house again. Like I win a house cleaner in the lottery, or something. Or some rich uncle leaves me his cleaning staff.

38. I can never decide if I want kids or just want to make up characters instead. (It's kinda the same thing, right? Well, maybe not.)

39. When I'm tired and my hair is long enough I twirl it around my finger without thinking about it. I was just doing it while trying to think of something worth telling you about me.

40. I don't think I'll ever warm up to camping. First of all, the showers are too few and far between.

41. I have difficulty peeing in a public restroom, let alone the woods.

42. And I can't fall asleep if my head is lower than my legs. Or if there is a rock in my back.

43. I have to use detergent with no dyes or perfumes because otherwise I break out.

44. There are very few parts of me that don't have stretch marks. Don't think you can't abuse your body with food.

45. I love my dog so much sometimes I just have to squeeze her.

46. Also, I like to grab her stub of a tail and use it like a joystick to move her around.

47. I have a brother but I don't really have much in common with him. We have not had an adult conversation where I've ever felt he was really listening to me.

48. This makes me very sad, but at the same time I just have a hard time relating to him. We grew up together but that's about it.

49. But I'm still really proud of him for building his own business and both his house and my parents house. I really respect him, even if I don't always like him.

50. I have a tattoo.

51. I don't regret it, even though I got it when I was 18.

52. But my lack of regret isn't so great that my father knows I have it.

53. My mother-in-law is one of my best friends. And I'm saying that even though I don't think she reads this. She really is.

54. My hair probably isn't really red, but at this point, who knows?

55. This kind of narcissism is more difficult than I thought it would be.

That's enough sharing for tonight. I'll pick this up again later when I want to plumb my murky depths further.

poor poor pitiful me

First of all, can I just admit that I'm so proud of myself for getting halfway through the month with NaBloPoMo? I'm just, well, yay me, I guess.

Second, I'd just like to complain a little bit, if that's ok. I know it is going to elicit, to some extent, the following response: "Oh waahh!" But I'd just like to say that although it is my fault as much as any one else's, I'm really tired of not being home at all. Last night I kind of had a little meltdown (evidence of which was seen in yesterday's post), all because we had about an hour or two tops this whole week to actually get anything done. We get up at 5:30 and I don't get home until 5:45. This week we've had Bump weekly dinner on Tuesday, a tea class on Wednesday (so interesting--I'll have to post about it at some point), and yesterday we went to the library (with a walk and a bus route change involved) to pick up a book, and so we've been limited for time this week. Last weekend we were gone from Thursday through Monday. The weekend before that we were up in Loveland. The weekend before that were were home, but in the throes of the pumpkin carving party. Going back from there, we've been home maybe one other weekend since August. I love our life, I know we're very fortunate to be able to have a home in the mountains, have money and time to take vacations, have friends and family who want us to stay with them. But I'm so tired. I'm fantasizing about being able to sleep in my bed and wake up after the sun rises, without the alarm prodding me. I fantasize about getting the platform made for the bed we're hoping to buy (a bigger one, with more room for Rumplestiltsroo to wander), so that we can actually sleep in our bedroom for the first time since oh, June? It's a long story and I'll have to share it some time, but I'm mid-whine, so it'll have to be later.

Last night I finally got the tubs of winter clothes off the shelves in the garage, after about a month of meaning to, but getting them down involved pulling the car out of the garage, and I only remembered every time I had just parked it. We bought new dining room chairs and two of them are still in the living room. We bought chair pads, too, but we can't decide if we like them (we've only sat on them a couple of times) and so they're mostly still in bags. We have artwork we haven't hung. I have a bags from two separate trips still lying half unpacked in our bedroom (the one without a bed). I have laundry to do, laundry to fold, and now winter and summer clothes to swap out. I really need to exercise since this trip to California (donuts for a snack, among other things), but I haven't had time to unearth the treadmill from its status as a shit collector. I can't remember the last time we mopped the floors. I know people who already have their Christmas shopping done, but I'm so far behind that it makes me a little sick to my stomach to think about it. I have to stop now, this list could be a lot longer, but thinking about all of it is freaking me out.

I'm just so tired and overwhelmed. It all seems so much and all I want to do is take a bath. I just feel like nothing is finished, nothing ever will be, and I don't even know where to start. I told Mr. Bump that I needed at least three weekends in a row at home in order to catch up. Maybe after Thanksgiving...

gah! gah! gah!

Between the dog, Mr. Bump's library book, the bus crammed with people, the grocery store with the guy with green hair and the f*ing wireless and this f*ing computer, I'm out. I'm here, there are words on the page, and I promise to do better tomorrow.

In the meantime, here's somewhere else to go and enjoy. I've already been today (these are places I go every day), so I think I'll go to bed.

today's factiod is brought to you by today's word

I went to the eye doctor today, who told me I have blepharitis:

bleph·a·ri·tis /ˌblɛfəˈraɪtɪs/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[blef-uh-rahy-tis] –noun Pathology.

inflammation of the eyelids.

Which basically means that my tears are evaporating too fast because they don't have enough fat in them. So I need to scrub my eyes, use steriod drops and other drops about four times a day. The good news is that my vision appears to be fine, and she did a check on my near vision, which is still 20/20. The bad news is that it doesn't necessarily ever go away, but hopefully I can get it in check.

While I was waiting I reviewed a wonderful chart with all kinds of fun facts about eyes, etc. I made myself memorize something, because it was so interesting and I wanted to share it all with you. So there it is. The human eye weighs 7.0 grams. Just in case you were wondering.

these eyes...are closing/5 more things about me

I'm up--I'm up! I'm so tired, but I'm here. I've been going strong since 5:40 this morning so this will be a short one.

I was having headaches last week that I thought were sinus headaches, but since they came back today when I got back to work, I'm beginning to wonder if it is my vision. I've got an eye appointment tomorrow. I'm just hoping that these eyes which I paid so much to have lasiked aren't giving out on me. I have a pair of low magnification glasses for computer work, but that didn't seem to help the problem.

And that reminds me of No. 26 thing about me:

26. I'm kind of a hypochondriac. In the sense that I'm always sure all issues I have are more serious than they end up being. The only problem with that is that someday, I'm going to rely on that fact, and someday it is going to be serious. Maybe.

27. Rear Window. The Shawshank Redemption. So I Married an Axe Murderer. Amelie. Some of the kaleidoscope of me is in those movies.

28. I can gain or lose 4 pounds in the course of a very good or very bad day.

29. Much like when I get hungry, I get very cranky when I'm tired. Right now I'm very tired.

30. When I was little and I used to get something new, I had to sleep with it. Whether it was a tambourine or a bottle of lotion. I'm still a bit obsessed with new things.

That's enough of that. G'night. I'll jabber on tomorrow.

'bye california

Sigh. Home again, home again, jiggity-jig. Here are some pictures in lieu of a post:

Mr. Bump vs. Fussybritches: Sunday Sunday Sunday!!

I haven't mentioned the third traveler on this trip, our third wheel. I think her performance today merits a mention, however. We rented our car from Hertz, and when we got in it to drive away, it had the Hertz "NeverLost" navigational system all hooked up, so even though we didn't order it, we thought "What the hell?" and drove off with her in tow. We figured that either they'd charge us a couple bucks, or not, since we didn't order it. And we had a lot of luck with her--I named her Fussybritches, because she is a most particular soul, and also because I misunderstood the warden in The Shawshank Redemption* and thought that's what he called the poster of Raquel Welch in the movie. He says, "What say you there, fuzzy-britches? Feel like talking?" But I heard it as Fussy britches, and that name fits her because she's a little anal and, shall we say, unopen to new ideas. But Lord if she didn't want to talk.

Loooong story short, we have a trip navigator that isn't me, and that has caused some conflict. There are times when she has been spot on, and easy to use, and a great toy for a road trip. But today, all the lines of communication broke down and it was all I could do to keep Mr. Bump from ripping it free from the car and throwing it out the window. And it was hard, because mostly I wanted to stop him so I could throw it out the window. First she told us to take a road that had been turned into a private road with a gate. After we turned around three times to try and figure out if there was another road that she was talking about, we finally realized that she was not up to date. Although, to be fair, apparently Google Maps was speaking her language, because it plotted the same route. Then, we find an alternate route that she's willing to navigate, and Fussybritches and Mr. Bump come to blows over whether she should display the route and our little car traveling on it, or whether she should display a big yellow arrow letting us know we need to TURN in two miles. Then, in plotting the way out of Big Basin Redwoods State Park, she tried again to have us take the closed off route from the other side, where again there was a big gate marked "Private Road." And then she wanted us to go one way. Then when we went that way she decided she wanted us to turn around and go the other way. This is where Mr. Bump and I had our own little squabble about who got to try and jab Fussybritches in the buttons (gotta get her where it hurts) the hardest.

This wasn't our first conflict with her, but it had all just been building. When she got us lost on our way to dinner the other night in Monterey, or when she just wouldn't find what we were looking for, we at first blamed ourselves--user error, we said. But when she began to ask us to "Make your first available legal u-turn," and to "Please proceed to the designated route," Mr. Bump and I began to make meaningful eye contact and gestures regarding the power button. And then today, in the forest, Mr. Bump, Fussybritches, and I, well, we all let each other down a bit, didn't we?

We finally made it back to Highway 1, which gave us all a little time to regroup, smooth our clothing and hair back (or in Fussybritches' case, clear off her LCD screen) and get ready to move on. I think we're all nursing our grudges, but at this point, we're only going to be traveling together for another day, so we'll just persevere. Tomorrow we fly back home, so I'm hoping that I'll get a blog in tomorrow--I've come this far, I've done so well--on VACATION!

*If you don't know this movie then we can't be friends until you've watched it. At least twice. It will help if you cried when you saw it, too. And if you don't like it, then you are dead to me.

the one where all my friends with kids turn agin' me

This morning we had a wonderful breakfast at Katy's in Carmel. An enormous omelette and eggs benedict menu, but it should be noted that they only take cash. So save your ones, strippers!

After that, we made the requisite visit to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. We got there just when they opened, which was probably a good idea given how crazy it was then--I'm sure it was swamped by 1:00 pm. The experience was enjoyable. We got to see them feed the sea otters, the huge tuna and sunfish in the big tank that also has the sharks in it (though we didn't see them feed the sharks). We saw sea otters outside in the bay, too, as well as harbor seals. If you ever get the chance to go, I recommend it. But, please try to go mid-week in the morning, for glory's sake.

Let me say this: I enjoy children. Not even a "but" in that sentence. However, the "but" will come now. Somewhere between the double-wide strollers (often empty of children entirely) and the parents urging their children to worm their way around anyone standing in front of an exhibit, my patience entirely ran out for their parents. I know that I'm going to get flak for this, but I'm sorry. Our tickets (mine and Mr. Bump's) each cost more than your child's ticket. I am willing to wait patiently for my turn in front of an exhibit, to wait behind the person who is currently looking at the exhibit without trying to push them forward or squeeze in around them. To be fair, this happened with children and with adults, so I don't bias my remarks toward children. They aren't directed at children at all, but rather that special breed of parent that is completely unable to see beyond their needs and their children's needs.

I realize that by committing this to blog post I'm probably going to raise a lot of eyebrows and be deemed a cranky old coot. The lady who hasn't had children is now a kid-hater. But really, my problem is not the children. They are, after all, only as polite as their parents teach them to be. I would guess most of the problem is the jockeying to "get this done" before someone needs to go to the bathroom, take a nap, drink from his or her sippy cup, or have a meltdown. I get that. But just pace yourself. There is no need to see everything in the aquarium in two hours. Take an hour. Take them for a nap. Come back later. Take a break and sit outside. Just don't make the everyone else stressed because you're trying to get through an overstimulating experience before someone melts down.

I had the experience today of knowing that I was supposed to step back, move on, defer to a child when one was behind or (0h wait) in front of me. I knew what was expected of me, but I resented it. I know, I know--I'm rather childish myself. Maybe that's the problem. But it felt as if we ought not to have been there because we were in the children's way, and this was apparently an experience for children, so we should defer to whatever they want.

The difference between today's experience and yesterday's, however, couldn't be more marked. Yesterday had a tour of the Hearst Castle and there was a child of about 18 months old that came along with us and his mommy. He was fussy at times, and at some point tired (he slept) and some point hungry (he ate). But he didn't disrupt the experience by being with us. When he was fussy, his mom hung back from the group. When he recovered, she regrouped with us. I suspect at the Hearst Castle you'd get your knuckles wrapped if you were too out of control, however. (Oh yes. No eating, drinking, smoking. This is a direct quote--"Because of the problems it can cause, chewing gum is not permitted!")

Nevertheless. Part of teaching a child manners is teaching them about how to behave in public. And I didn't see a whole lot of that today. I saw more of it while watching the surfers in Santa Cruz, where kids and dogs and parents strolled along, watched a surfing competition, and generally were the mellowest of folks. Even after it started to rain.

Oh, and if you're ever in Santa Cruz, check out O'Mei. Chinese food somewhere between traditional Chinese food and "American" Chinese food. Very delicious. Great Turkish coffee ice cream with chocolate sauce and coconut ice cream with caramel sauce for dessert, too.

dear california

We've known each other for a while now, so I feel there are some questions that I can ask you now, things I wouldn't have asked before we knew each other so well.

First, please explain to me why it is that when bread is served in your restaurants, there is exactly one more piece of bread than there are people at the table. Do you take some perverse pleasure in the scientific experiment which hypothesizes whether or not the extra piece of bread will be studiously ignored or if someone will be hoggish (just taking the extra piece) or if there will be some kind of caged death match over who gets the last piece. If I'm supposed to ignore it, I've failed that test. Three times now.

Also, why are so many of your people blond? Really. Where do you keep your pale-skinned dark-haired Irish ladies and pasty ginger-haired blokes? No matter how hard I try (and I did try for six years), this is not my tribe.

Is there some way you could see your way clear to turn the flowers off once in a while? That would be great.

How do you all get any work done with the OCEAN right outside? This morning we stood on our little balcony and watched a sea kayaker catching waves before the surfers came out to play. Then there were elephant seals to watch, and then the long winding ribbon of Highway 1. Seriously. Stop it already.

Why must all the things we love so much be here? Where we can't eat them. Or visit them. Or buy them at home. Some of our favorite people, fast food and discount organic groceries are here. Not fair, California. Not fair.

You're such a tease, California. Lift up your skirt a bit, show us some coastline and leave us panting for more. The word on the street is that first one is always free, but then you find yourself thinking, "Just one more trip to California. I know I've already been there once this year, but maybe some other bit this time."

California, I wish I knew how to quit you.

coming in from cambria

We got up this morning at 4:30, which makes it 3:30 Pacific time, so we are very very tired. We had a decent (if very early) flight out of DIA, which was lovely except for my tussle with a ticket counter agent at the bag drop and a bit of turbulence when we were climbing out past the mountains.

Our rental car pick up was flawless. We had a wonderful Elevenses at a tea shop in San Francisco. Leland Tea is a wonderful place to go, I urge you all to make it there if you happen to be in San Fran. Chances are you'll get something really special there, whether it is the lovely veggie frittata that I had with my Jasmine Fancy tea, or Mr. Bump's blueberry cinnamon scone and pot of Golden Yunan.

After the requisite visit to In N Out for a late lunch, we drove down through the Salinas Valley and out to the coast to Cambria. Lovely town. 6,000 people, wonderful food, a fabulous ocean view room at the Little Sur Inn. Mr. Bump isn't aware of the accommodations I'd made for this trip except in general terms, so he was tremendously excited at our room with our little balcony overlooking the ocean, the surfers catching the last few waves before dark, and the sunset. Oh, the sunset. Fatigue prevents me from posting the pictures now, but I'll get them up at some point. At some point there might be links in this post, too, but for now all the things I've mentioned can be found on the internet.

I will, however, include the following link because I think this one is just a fabulous place, and if you ever come to Cambria for any reason, you should go to The Black Cat for dinner. It was a lovely meal, inexpensive for the value and a great great cheese. I highly recommend the pancetta wrapped pork tenderloin, the cheese plate with Brillat Savarin and Istara, and although we didn't opt for dessert (we meant to go to another place for dessert, but it was closed on Thursdays!), the chocolate souffle and vanilla bean panna cotta sounded and looked very good.

So, tomorrow we head to Hearst Castle and Big Sur, and on up to Monterey. More tomorrow night..

Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you! There was a bank here in town that left us in stitches. I mean, would anyone honestly put their money in a bank called Rabobank? Really. I think not.

today, tomorrow, the day after that

Tonight we've got a class on tea. We have one tonight and one next Wednesday, and I can't remember if tonight's is Indian black tea or Chinese black tea, but we'll eventually be taking both of them. It should be fun. I haven't taken a class in a while. I'll let you know how it was.

We're also packing for our trip to Monterey tonight. Tomorrow we head off for the airport just before the crack of ass, which to me is 5:00 am. Which means getting up at 4:30. The things we do to use our frequent flyer miles. Ugh.

Anyway, our itinerary includes tea in San Francisco, a stop down at the Hearst Castle in San Simeon, kayaking in Monterey Bay (and a visit to the famous Monterey Bay Aquarium), Big Basin Redwoods State Park, Ano Nuevo Reserve and a deliciously romantic night in Half Moon Bay.

I'm really going to try and blog from the road, but if the laptop doesn't make the baggage cut, I'll be scrounging for a internet cafe or computer at the hotel. If I can't, I'll just keep going when I can blog.

one hundred things - volume one

I stole this from over here, but I'm not above a blog idea theft. I don't know how interested anyone will be in this--I'm not sure even I want to know 100 things about myself, so we'll see how far I get. This might get changed to 12 1/2 things about me. Ok, how 'bout we start with 25 and see how long you all are interested in my narcissism.

1. I was born May 14th, 1974.

2. I was adopted about a month later, a decision my birthmother made, for which I can't thank her enough. You have no idea.

3. I forget things. All the time. Chances are if you have a memory of you and me doing something more than five years ago, you can tell me what we did like a story I've never heard before.

4. I love movies and I sorely miss them. Mr. Bump sold me a bill of good when we were dating which led me to believe he enjoyed going to the movies. He does not. I love the smell of popcorn, the anonymity of the dark, and the tipping headlong into a story, without escape. I think I'm the reason the Hollywood box office has been in the toilet--singlehandedly destroying the Hollywood Studio System--that's me!

5. I hate, hate, hate doing laundry. I wait until the last possible moment to do it. I used to have a laundry bag that said "One more day and I'll be naked."

6. I have an unnatural attachment to my pillow. I have travel with it, even if it means bringing a bigger bag and checking it. I live in fear that my luggage will get lost and we will be separated forever.

7. Even though we don't plan on having kids, Mr. Bump and I run through lists of names for what we'd call our kids. And I'm not telling because I don't want anyone to steal my great names. Nyaah.

8. One of my regular dreams is that I'm in a car accident and I can see the other car coming at me/us, I think "This is it. It's over," and I die, which is when I wake up. Terrifying. It heebs me out just to write it.

9. I'm an atheist who grew up Catholic, but I don't admit it freely (the atheist part, not the Catholic part). If someone asks, I'll admit it, but mostly I keep it to myself.

10. I used to lie a lot when I was a teenager, for no good reason. I just liked to make stuff up, I guess.

11. I really miss being in school. Another dream I have is that I go back to school even though I've graduated, just for the classes.

12. I feel really lucky that I get to work where I do, just for the beautiful architecture.

13. I've never broken a bone.

14. I've only got two scars--one on my left hand and one on my left foot.

15. Even though I'm kinda ashamed of it, I read a lot of chick lit. It's very diverting and doesn't require any thought. Book candy.

16. When I need to eat I get really grumpy.

17. Which Mr. Bump hates.

18. Of course it doesn't help when he says, "You need to eat." Even though he's usually right.

19. I love my mother but sometimes when she's talking to me on the phone my mind wanders.

20. Sometimes I have a secret conversation with Mr. Bump when I'm talking to her.

21. Although I know it goes against everything I believe in, sometimes I just wish I could stay home and let Mr. Bump bring home the bacon. I'd be happy to do the fryin' part. And I'll take one for Team Bump and get all the sleeping late, watching tv and playing on the internet that needs to get done in this family.

22. I hate it when Mr. Bump says "Someone didn't [insert thing that should have been done] or Someone left the [insert thing that was left in an inappropriate place]." Like it's a big mystery.

23. I am such a horrible procrastinator most of the time. Right now I'm blogging to avoid doing laundry and packing for the trip we're leaving on day after tomorrow. Multi-tasking!

24. I can kill an hour wandering around a Walgreens, looking at makeup, magazines, shampoo and toiletries. Not that I often have that hour to spare, but when I need to get something done, it is a great way to procrastinate.

25. Aside from the nine hours a day that I'm actually working (not including my lunch hour), I'm generally within 15 feet of my husband. And if I don't see him for 24 hours (which is pretty rare), I really really miss him.

--Ok, this seems like a good stopping place. I'll save 26-100 for some other day I'm out of other things to write about.

whew!

I hate when I go shopping, try everything on, hate it all but come home empty-handed.

(By the way, I know this might look a little like cheating, but I'm doing the best I can at the moment!)

just browsing

I'm trying on a new dress--let me know if you like it or if it makes me look fat.

Now it has become dresses--apparently I have no taste. Come back again later and eventually I'll find something that doesn't send people screaming.

leavin'

This morning we got up early at our regular work-day hour and drove my parents to the airport. This sounds like an early morning, but not a particularly stressful one. However, I have been fielding calls about the details of plane travel from my mother for over a week, and the leavings of those conversations left me as anxious as a mother dropping her child off at school for the first day. It isn't that my parents haven't flown before, but they have not flown in many years, not since a few years before 9/11, well before the advent of internet airfare booking.

It all started this May when my uncle passed away. My parents didn't feel they could make it out for the memorial service, so they told my aunt they would come out to Phoenix to visit her in a few weeks, once all the company that had flown in for the funeral left. Mom asked me to look for airfare "on the computer" for her, because she doesn't have a computer or internet access and wouldn't know how to do more than play a good game of solitaire with a computer if she had it. So I gave her some flight dates and prices. But then one thing and another happened, and suddenly it was September.

I finally booked a flight for them one slow afternoon at work, for which my mom was effusively grateful. But as the trip approached, the phone calls began to come.

First the questions were broad. "What is this about liquids on the plane?" and "Tell me again exactly what I can't bring on the plane."

Then they got more specific. "Can I take my nail clippers? What about my nail file?"
"What about the bottle of hand sanitizer I keep in my purse?"

Then finally she just began to list the contents of the purse she was carrying on the plane, and the suitcase she was going to check. She opted for taking the full bottles of her shampoo rather than 3 oz.bottles in her quart ziploc in her carry-on. I suggested she might want to put them in ziploc anyway, which she thought was a great idea.

But I think her panic really began to mount when I began to recall small details that have been added to the airline travel experience in the last 6 years. You know--take your shoes off, check-in 90 minutes before your flight, don't make jokes about blowing up the plane. My mother remained unconvinced that both she and my father would have to take their shoes off.

By Thursday night, I thought we had covered enough ground that I could get some of the details down firm.

You know, such as who is picking you up in Phoenix, etc. They were going to take the shuttle.

Which shuttle? The one from the airport.

But which one? There are probably 10 shuttle companies. The one that drops you at your door. Apparently it went to my aunt's neighborhood.

But how much does that cost? She didn't know but she thought $60.00.

Per person? Per person.

But you could rent a car for less than that. No, that's not true. It is. No, it costs hundreds. Travelocity says $60.00 for the amount of time you're there.

By the end of this conversation I knew I had chosen the wrong path and whipped my mother into a travel induced frenzy. But I couldn't help it. Their basic ignorance of the complications of air travel and the plucky "we'll get there" attitude made me crazy. And I couldn't stop myself from puncturing her Pollyanna bubble with the facts.

At the same time I began to run over in my mind all of the minute details that travel entails, and question whether they were, at this point in their lives, capable of navigating that obstacle course. I checked them in online, got their boarding passes printed for them, and did everything I could this side of walking them up to security.

So when they overslept this morning because the three alarms they set didn't go off, I think they began to panic, believing this sign that all my doomsday neysaying was a version of reality that was conjured by daring to Take the Plane. By the time they got to our house they both were as skittish as teenaged colts.

We managed to get them to the airport on time anyway. In the car Mr. Bump and I coached them on the layout of the airport, recounting to them where they needed to drop their bags off, which way to go to go over the bridge to Concourse A, what to do in security. We did all but draw them a map on a stray napkin. Finally we got there, dropped them and their bag off at the curb and pointed inside to the exact counter they needed to go to to drop off their bags, making them promise to call when they got there.

We then went on our own way for the weekend, a trip up north to visit friends and Mrs. Bump (the other one). I kept an eye on the time, hoping that their plane was on time, that they had found their way, that my father's nervousness (more well masked than my mother's) would result in him making further statements about how a plane could be bombed, if you really wanted to. I had warned him in the car that that particular conversation needed to end in the car, but Dad's always a wild card.

It was after two when I checked my voicemail on my cellphone and found a message from my dad, stating that they were there and "everything went fine."

Whew. That was a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. More than ever, I find myself feeling that the roles of parent and child are reversing. Suddenly I am the one that knows the ways of the world, can explain the details of things, from landscaping and homeownership to the layout and workings of various airports. They are uncertain, and scared of new things. I find myself vacillating from the sadness of it all, to feeling good that I can be in this position, and guide them through new experiences. I feel so grateful for the life they gave me that I would do anything to make their lives easier. I just wish they would stop thanking me for it. I keep telling them it is the least I can do, but they don't agree. Booking the flight for them was such a big thing for them, because they felt they needed me to do it. It feels nice to be needed. But it is painful, too.

driven from drink

Today was the kind of day where I really wished I drank more. Anything I've done wrong in the last month rose like scum to the top of the pond today. Work was one long series of correcting mistakes--both mine and other people's.

On a more personal note, my super-dark really cool jeans dyed my hands blue. Mr. Bump tried to cheer me up at lunch by buying me a hot chocolate. Which was terrible. How do you screw up cocoa, you might ask? Try not hot enough, not chocolate-y enough, and something funky was going on with the milk. And! And! No whipped cream! I could make tastier chocolate milk that that was. I would rather have a hot chocolate from Starbucks, and we know how I feel about Starbucks. About as good as I feel about using the royal "we" to refer to myself. By the way, that's called "nosism."

Nosism - The use of 'we' in referring to oneself.

And to top it all off I have to get new insurance because my employer decided to drop my health insurance as a possible insurance option. Where's my hot chocolate now, bitch? I don't know what that means, actually. It just felt like a good thing to say. It gets the bilious rage up and out. The energy required to research all of the insurance options makes me exhausted just thinking about it. I guess I should just shut up and be glad I have insurance. Shutting up now.

Except for one more thing: I've decided that, in order to keep the memory of my "real" age in the frontal lobe, I've decided that each post this once will list someone who is my age. Today's peer is Tyra Banks.

today is the first day of the rest of the month

I have decided, for a kick in the butt, to join NaBloPoMo, and see how it goes. We're going to Cali next week, so we'll see if I can keep it up. Wish me luck, and keep checking in, because I plan to spill it for you, all month long. (That sounded dirty--not what I meant. But we'll see how the month goes. I may get desperate.)

I made a stunning realization today, one that I am still not entirely convinced of. I can't believe I am this stupid and I have to caveat this with the comment that I am really, really, really bad at math. Really bad.

I've been moping around (ok, mostly in my head, but still) thinking about my age, and how I could be at mid-life, and blah blah blah. Only to discover today, when my profile calculated my age, that I'm actually 33 and not 34, like I've been thinking. How do I not know my age!!?? I'm a little sad that I've reached that point in my life where I don't remember how old I am reflexively, automatically.

Here's an example of how convinced I was of my age: Mr. Bump and I were sending a card to my lovely friend, and he said something about her turning 33, and I said no, she was the same age as me, we were the same age so she must be turning 34. I made her older because I thought I was older. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Arnold. I never meant to hurt you like that even if it was only in conversation with Mr. Bump. I'm just really. bad. with the numbers.

And I must, say, I'm kind of pissed about it. I can't believe I've frittered away months--months!-- of my 33rd year thinking I was 34!

I'm such a fucking idiot.

See you tomorrow.