Happy Anniversary Blog that I’ve neglected!

that’s all.

No, your other left

I’m left brained, not the math left, your other left.  Don’t get me wrong, I can do math.  I even own an abacus, granted its a decorative abacus, vintage per se; Pottery Barn circa 1999.  This part of my brain leads my creativity.  It is what allows me to pull a page from a Pottery Barn, West Elm, or Z Gallerie catalogue and create an EXACT replication in my own living quarters; it’s uncanny.  

I am also a really good cook.  I really can cook, this isn’t like when I say I can sing, or that I’m a little teapot – it truly is a skill I possess.  I inherited it from my mother who is a proven McGyver (not to be confused with Quantum Leap) in the kitchen.  The other day I decided to use my creative decorating ability to nurture my culinary interests.  I scoured pages and pages of magazines and came up with the idea of adding a wall mounted pot rack.  This pot rack cleverly paired with a cookbook from William Sonoma would prove to be a great way to display that I can use a 3 quart pan for more than making ramen noodles.  I decided that I wanted a unique rack and drove over to Crate & Barrel to find the one I viewed online.  After a quick interaction with the lovely sales lady I was on my way home, however I felt the box seemed a bit light.  Standing in my kitchen I opened the box, excited to begin assembly.  As I started taking a hold of the pieces I noticed something odd – they weren’t stainless or iron or anything that resembled metal.  This pot rack was actually made of wood and WAS PAINTED SILVER AND GREY!!!  I was appalled at my finding, if I had wanted a kitchen creation made of wood and sprayed with metallic paint I would’ve signed up for Trading Spaces – even with the risk that Frank might put a rooster in my abode.  Needless to say I’ll be returning this purchase.  I guess the search is still on …

Too Hot for Teacher

I’ve worn glasses since the fourth grade.  The first version was beautiful; they were a rose colored thick plastic frames with hockey puck lenses, basically summoning Sally Jesse Raphael.  After elementary school I graduated into wire frames – which is a stupid idea for any 12 year old as they prove to bend out of any shape that resembles glasses.  In 8th (yes, I know that although the number is below 10 that I used the numerical symbol instead of writing it out, however I’m quite sure on how to spell 8th) grade I switched to contacts.  Although I still did have a short period of time in which I had the whole glasses/braces/bad haircut trifecta. 

What I am getting at with this diatribe is that I have had contacts for the last 16 years, only wearing glasses for short bits of eye infection or at night before going to bed – no one is used to seeing me in them.  I recently scratched my eye so I must wear my glasses to work.  This is a more difficult process than it sounds and requires ward robing specific to my black framed glasses.  So far this has included pencil skirts and blouses.  The first part of the morning people seemed quite confused, they were wondering if I typically wear glasses.  Once their suspicions were confirmed regarding my optical state they began the comments (did I mention we’re all seven years old?).  I have so far been asked if I’m a secretary (because this 1940), if I know the Dewey decimal system ( do they still use that?) and have been sent links to “Too Hot for Teacher” on youtube … stupid … however I did start carrying around a ruler  …

Photosynthesis

I hope Renda is not reading this.

I received a wonderful potted plant for my birthday.  I have tried to take care of it in my cubicle.  At times I have even put it on Travis’s desk (which he appreciated) for a better line of sunlight as well as keeping my desk light on at night to ensure it’s health and well being.  I have even remembered to water it at times, real water, not left over coffee.  I thought the orange color it was turning was pretty.  Apparently the plant is supposed to be green.  I think I might have killed it.

What’s in a Word

I give a look.  I’ve been told this before.  It’s not necessarily a pleasant “come hither” look, but more so a “I am in awe of the ‘interesting’ thing you just said and I really have no clue how to react in an affirmative way to it so instead I’m just pursing my lips and nodding”.  I never realized I made this look, that is until multiple people began pointing it out to me.

 One evening at dinner my friend Angie announced

“oh, oh, I made the ‘becca’ look the other day at work”    

To which I responded:

“hmm, do I make a look”

Another dear friend of mine also chimed in saying:

“yes, you give a very sardonic look”

<insert becca sardonic look here>

Now, I had absolutely no idea what sardonic meant, but I’m sure it in deed was a real word.  Which brings me to the fact that this friend of mine always has a very articulate vocabulary, and mine is, well, a bit, ‘er, um … not so refined and stuff … So I set forth with a plan.  The next Monday at work I scoured the internet for a word of the day e-mail notification.  If anything would make me learn new words it would definitely be having new ones (with definitions AND examples of how to use them) sent to me on a daily basis!  

I waited in anticipation at for my first day’s word, and then I saw it:

PLAINTIVE … oh, maybe it is some foreign version of the plaintive word I know.  Quick, scroll to the definition.  Nope, same thing.  Ok, maybe tomorrow will be better.

Next Day. 

TORRID … hmmm, yup, pretty sure I already know that word.

The Next Day.

Cosmopolite … duh, a person who is cosmopolitan … ummm, are these going to get any better?

The Nextest and the Nextests Days.

Regale; Auspicious … seriously, aren’t I supposed to be learning new words?

I have now quit my subscription to this service and will begin using the Thesaurus tool much more liberally from now on.  I’m sure I will sound adroit …

No Clever Title – I Just Hate Mapquest!

The weekend was going to be perfect.  It was my sisters 30th birthday and she was to be surprised with a plethora of things, the first of which was for me, her favorite (only) little sister, to show up on Friday night so I could join her for a Saturday long run.  The morn of the Friday I packed up my vehicle so I could leave immediately from work.  I planned on leaving at 4:00 so the three hour drive would get me there at about 7:00 … in theory … I Mapquest’d the directions from Overland Park Kansas to Kirksville Missouri and was off on my trek.

The first hour went smoothly all I had to do was head North on I-35.  I had just filled my ipod with a new caraoke playlist (unfortunately some Barry Manilow snuck on it) and I seranaded myself with some Blame it on the Rain by Milli Vanilli – and sounded just as good.  It was then time to being following the directions of Mapquest … dum, dum, dumb …

Step 1:  Take exit 52B and follow right.  … ok, that’s easy enough, but doesn’t quite look the same as the last time I made the trip.

Step 2:  Turn right on 30th Street … hmmm, looks like a real road.

Step 3:  Turn left on SE 30th E W Street … I’m not a topographysacist, however I didn’t think that could be a real direction.  Anyways the road was a bit gravely, but it looked like it may go somewhere important.

Step 4:  Turn right on SE 30th EW Street … wait, isn’t that what i was on??? I looked up and yes, these two samely named streets did intersect. This new road was a bit odd.  At one point it had been gravel and after numerous thunderstorms it had been completely washed away.  I treaded down the road while white knuckling the steering wheel with fear of of high centering.  The thought of me attempting to un-stick my Highlander in my True Religions and high heels was atrocious.

It was at this point that I realized I may possibly be lost.  I looked around and saw something that looked like it could be a town – or was once a town.  I could not find it on the map, so I powered up the navigation on my blackberry.  Now, I LOVE navigation on my Blackberry, it has never failed me … until now.  Due to the fact that I literally in the middle of nowhere, GPS was unable to find me.  I quickly called my brother in law to inform him of my predicament and impending tardiness.  Unfortunately he was unable to provide assistance and I noted previously my GPS COULD NOT LOCATE ME.

I then tried to continue following Mapquest’s directions which looked something like this: Turn right on MO-E, turn left on MO-MM, turn right on MO-VMME which then becomes railway road which then becomes MO-EEEE, turn left at Bob’s house, click your heels three times, and don’t get the speed up above 88 MPH while the flux capacitor is turned on …

After following the manic route I finally came to a clearing, with a bright light, which was useful because it was now dark.  I saw an actual road, a real road, a highway, with signs, signs that included my destinations name!  My phone also began working.  It sounded like a winning slot machine with a number of text messages and voicemail alerts flying in.  I hit the car into overdrive and booked it into Kirksville – only 4 1/2 hours into the 3 hour trip …

Pikes Peak Ascentathon Travelogue Part Deux or Trek to the North Pole

  What a beautiful site.  Who doesn’t like pancakes, let alone steaks, so it makes absolute perfect sense in a whimsical town with competing carved bear statue stores to have a pancake & steakhouse all-in-one restaurant.  Even better was the fact that it was across from the “hotel”.  

When handed an opportunity like this, you must take it.  Myself, Jennifer, and her three 5 year olds (yes, I said three 5 year olds – who are wonderful by the way, partially because they think that I’m silly, which coming from kids is totally cool) made breakfast plans.  We informed the host of the party of 5 and after looking around at all of the four person booths realize this town might possibly have a population control law forbidding more than two children per family unit.  Luckily we spotted the one such exception, and entirely too large grand dining table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant for all to see.  So Jennifer and I looked like quite the happy “couple” with “our” children for the remainder of the morn.  Now, I pretend to eat healthy most of the time – but when my egg white-spinach-mushroom omelet came out with a heaping stack of hash browns, I gobbled those things up like there was no tomorrow.  They were the sluttiest bunch of greasy, crispy, salty potatoes I’d ever partook of, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I dream daily about them. 

 

slightly creepy

ENTER THE NORTH POLE

Contrary to popular belief the North Pole is actually located a country mile north of Manitou Springs – per a giant billboard.  I decided to impose on Jennifer’s family vacation and join them in their trek to make three 5 year olds and a baby very very happy.  The scene of approaching the North Pole reminded me of Lampoon’s Family Vacation – the parking lot was bare – we wondered if it was open.  We looked through the cloud cover and impending drizzle and saw the rides were still moving so it was a go.  Plus the kids had already seen where we were going and it’s kind of mean to turn around at that point.  The price of admission was quite steep to experience the vision of sugarplums dancing through our heads, but once again, remember, the children are our future (and secretly I knew this would be ridiculously funny to blog about).  

The Rides

When the ride operator (who is dressed as an elf with striped socks, addidas tennis shoes, and just bummed a smoke to another elf) sits the two people getting on the ride so the weight is distributed evenly, it’s probably not a good sign.  After a few attempts Jennifer and I wedged ourselves into a kiddie ride.  I then heard Steve mention something about llamas, which entirely peaked my interest.  There were llamas sitting literally 5 feet away from the ride – I had NO clue the North Pole had such species – red nosed reindeer, yes; llamas, no clue!  

Shopping

The creatively named the 17 gift shops as “boys toy shop”, “girl toy shop”, “gift shop”, “souvenir shop”, “mother hubbard cupboards”.  It was in these shops that you could buy confectionary treats and sweat pants that said “colorado”. While getting cider to warm up the troupe I inquired about the mocha.  Suggestion to the North Pole: invest in some barista elves – because a mocha is not “ummm, we fill the glass mostly with hot chocolate and then top it off with some coffee”

Ambiance

I don’t know if you have seen killer clowns from outer space, but this was kind of the Christmas version.  Amongst the rides, and shops, and Santa’s House, and the Elves there were animatronic shows with Christmas songs that sounded as though they were plucked from the dulcimer I bought in town.  

Throughout the freezing drizzle and naseating rides we were able to maintain our Christmas cheer – and serenaded the park with a lively rendition of Jingle Bells. 

end of day 2

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Pikes Peak Ascentathon Travelogue Day 1

 

 

6:26 AM

6:26 AM flight.

6:26 AM Flight means having to be at airport by 5:30.

6:26 AM Flight means having to be at airport by 5:30 means having to leave house at 4:45.

6:26 AM Flight means having to be at airport by 5:30 means having to leave house at 4:45 means having to be up at 4:00.

6:26 AM Flight means having to be at airport by 5:30 means having to leave house at 4:45 means having to be up at 4:00 means 6:26 AM flights should be avoided in the future AT ALL COSTS … 

To the dismay of those around me at the airport, I’m still funny at 6:26 AM.  As i boarded the 1/2 full flight, i looked at the woman sitting next to me and anounced:

Hi! I just downloaded some GREAT songs on my ipod to sing along too!

Man three rows ahead of me turns around in horror

Yes, I’m really into showtunes right now.  My rendition of Wicked is absolutely delightful!

 The woman next to me quietly let me know that she sometimes likes to hum …

COLORADO

Flew to Denver, drove to Colorado Springs.

Went to the REI store.  For those who are not familiar with REI it is similar to a Nordstrom for outdoor enthusiasts – cycling, backpacks, crocs galore in all colors, carabeener clips (real ones, not the fake ones used for key chains that say “not intended for real climbing”).  I bought an orange headband, I don’t know why.  Going forward I shall blame everything questionable on the effects of high altitude.

From the REI store, we were able to see the top of Pikes Peak.  Little did I know that this was the only time I would see the Peak (literary effect of foreshadowing).

Driving into Manitou Springs can only be described as whimsical.  The main street was full of shoppes (yes, it was so whimsical that the extra “pe” was necessary in the spelling of the word shops) that sold authentic Colorado Art and Threads.  I had my pick of Kokopelli, buffalo statuettes, and dream-catchers.  There was also an Old Tyme Photo studio as well as a dulcimer store – I will find out what a dulcimer is as soon as the one I ordered arrives in the mail.  We attempted to walk around town for a bit however with the lack of breathing ability due to altitude.  We stopped in the first bar & grille we could find and ate authentic Colorado chicken fingers and french fries.  

The lodging was quaint (I hope by now my creative use of adjectives has been noticed).  It consisted of a series of cabins with tasteful wood paneling and a swimming hole.  I am not joking when I say that the ice machine was literally a cooler with ice on the front porch of the “main lodge” with a sign that read “Ice For Rooms”.

The first day was long, I can’t remember exactly but I think it may have started early.  I went to bed at 9:00.

End of Day 1

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Return of the Mac

I am as attached to the  computer as the next person.  I sit at it all day at work, focusing (solely) on pertinent (theonion.com) business related tasks; when I get home I use it to e-mail with my friends and family (so I don’t need to return their phone calls) load new photos (of myself), update my facebook, download new music etc …

I have always been a “pc” user.  I didn’t necessarily like it per se but I never had any issues.  I have been thoroughly educated by the media and graphic design friends about the atrocities of the evil empire of Mr. Bill Gates and Microsoft.  But time after time I continued to buy the Windows based units out of ease and familiarity.  I’d march into Best Buy, smile and nod to everything the blue shirt told me I needed (even though I had no clue what they were talking about) and would walk out the door with an overflowing cart and a mile worth of receipts so I could attempt to mail in the eleventy billion rebates. 

This time was different.  My computer has reached the ripe old age of 3 and we all know computer years are even worse than supermodel years; no amount of restlyane could save this one.  I began my search.  Like everyone else I have seen the Mac v. PC commercials for the past few years.  I get a chuckle out of the Daily show correspondent playing the old curmudgeon PC and the young hip boy, who dated Drew Barrymore for like a year, playing the Mac.  Now, I typically try not to be too maintstream and do things because they’re trendy, however in an effort to finally be hip and to feel as though I really am a targeted (possibly unintended) demographic for these ads/products/lifestyle/coolness I got into my mid-sized SUV,swung by the Starbucks drive through, and drove on down to the new shiny Apple store.  I held my head up high and pointed and said “I want that! and that! and that! and that!” and continued on until I thought I had all my bases covered.  I did go a little “pointing/demanding” crazy and had to put a few things back (like some Dora software and someone’s child) but I still came out proud with my new iMac and iTouch.  

The set up process was ridiculously easy as I pulled it out of the box, plugged it in, signed onto my neighbors internet they haven’t figured out how to secure yet and I was up and running.  With this new superior machine, I can now do amazing things such as e-mail with my friends and family, load new photos, update my facebook, download new music etc … just now, I think I’m much cooler while doing it

Hello Again

I know that’s its been a while since I have posted an entry, however all of my recent energy has been spent anxiously awaiting the Neil Diamond concert. 

A few months ago I was quite excited to purchase Neil Diamond tickets.  I quickly called my mother and father and convinced them to get tickets as well.  It was the perfect plan.  On the eve of the concert my brother and I were able to walk into the venue along side my parents, making it appear that we were the wonderful children who brought their parents to the concert, instead of just two 20-somethings who know almost every song by heart and were just really pumped to see him.   We had to go through security first, my brother thought he was prepared as he had recently went to the 311/Snoop Dogg Concert (which is basically the same crowd).  I on the other hand wasn’t and took one of my typical handbags (which could hold 12″ sub and 2 liter of soda if necessary) and failed to remove my camera.  Security Lady nicely told me to take the camera back to the car because “Neil would have none of that”.  After carefully assessing the situation I had another plan.  I moved to the back of another line, with a male security guard who appeared to be fearful of actually looking through a woman’s handbag.  I got through. Once we got into the Qwest arena we split, as my parents had the funds to buy better tickets (as parents always do).

The concert was fun.  It was a tad bit more lively than when I saw Mr. Diamond at the wax museum.  What’s great about traveling with the same band for 40 years is that it’s similar to a marriage of a similar length of time.  They pretty much just do their own thing and say, “don’t look at me that way, I can do what I want”.  This was most apparent in the dancers.  Currently pop artists have the entire kit and kaboodle of choreographers and dancers.  They “pop and lock” in unison to execute impeccable routines.  **I attempted once and bought Darrin’s Dance moves from MTV.  I have now proudly displayed “the robot” in the Guggenheim in NYC and at my best friends wedding.  Now, the “Diamond Girls” have their own agenda.  They’ve sung Crunchy Granola Sweet more times than people have asked what the h3ll the song is about, and they make no attempt to dance together.  Instead, when the music starts, so do they.  There is a bit of flailing of the arms, shaking of the hips, and I might’ve even seen a bit of the running man mixed in.  At times it even appeared as though there were not even at the same concert. 

He kept the crowd lively with his ever popular hits of Sweet Caroline, Cracklin’ Rose, and America.  I did get a few strange looks when I yelled out “Piano Man” as a request.  My favorite way to take Mr. Diamond will always be Forever in Blue Jeans (yes, I know, that was a cheesy ending but since I titled the entry with a song title, I wanted to end it with one too – I’m taking a not so creative writing class and they teach you stuff like that).