How about working hard at hardly working? I'm working, but hardly. I've been doing some pet sitting, catering, contract work. Just dabbling in a bit of this and a bit of that - barely. But this unemployment racket is really a pretty taxing gig as it turns out. It's a full time job in itself. I don't know where the days go, but they just fly by.
My clock is all messed up. I crawl out of bed at the crack of nine. Click on my laptop and start the coffee while it powers up. Almost three hours of internet searching scream by when I realize I need to scramble to get to my noon yoga class. I end up jogging there every day in order to make it in time. After yoga, where I practice my stretching, breathing, and Zen techniques, I usually go for a long walk. I get home to have a little bite of lunch and clean up and by now it's late afternoon. What have I done? Eh hem. Not much of anything, actually. I have spent a couple hours scanning and replying to emails, checking out some job websites, researched some schools and maybe...just maybe...I've sent a resume to someone. I might run to the store to pick up toilet paper or some other essential, then meet a friend for happy hour (it's actually cheaper than groceries these days). I get home and do some more internet nonsense, read my book(s), write a few ideas down on paper and head to bed around 2.00 a.m. It's a full day! How is one suppose to fit a job into that schedule? I ask you?
Hardly working? I think not.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Mrs. F#$@ing Rockefeller
What is it about being unemployed that makes a girl want to shop? One friend says it's all the time on my hands. That's possible. When I was working, full-time, all the way out in the the suburbs of Ballard, I had no time to go shopping. All the stores in Ballard close at 6.00 p.m. and I wasn't usually finished with work much before then. If I was, I was on a mission to get to yoga by six, so would quickly by-pass any interesting shops, head straight home to change and run to my class ready for Zen mode. Now I go to yoga at noon. I've got the whole day to myself.
Getting downtown during the past ten months was actually quite rare. Weekends were packed with other activities and shopping was never on the top of the list. I don't even like shopping. I'm not one of those woman who craves the latest fashions. I don't need retail therapy to get me through a rough day. I'm actually a bit of a cheapskate and find it difficult to part with my hard-earned meager funds. My usual MO is to walk around the store with an item I actually do need and then put it back on the rack and walk out empty handed because I talk myself out of needing it at all. At least for the moment.
So what is going on with me recently? I seem to be spending money like I'm Mrs. F#$@ing Rockefeller. That is, spending money like I have it! First, I book a trip to Vietnam just before quitting my job. Then while job hunting, I book a flight to San Diego to visit friends. As if that isn't enough spending, lately I keep finding myself in downtown shops 'browsing.' What am I doing in these shops at all? My shops are Crossroads Trading Post, Goodwill, Value Village and Take 2 Consignment, not my old haunts of Ann Taylor and Banana Republic. Haunts I visited back in the day, when I was a corporate climber, working for the man, earning the corporate dollar. No, the new me does not patronize these shops any longer. So why, pray tell, am I in there today? The sales got to me! A top for $14.00 and jeans (that fit perfectly!) for $40 at Ann Taylor Loft. How could I say no? I couldn't. I didn't. And I didn't stop there. I sauntered over to BR just to look at jackets. I just wanted to look. Maybe try one or two on. That's all. Nothing more. But once in there, I found one on sale that fit perfectly. I couldn't force myself to put it back on the rack. As I was leaving the store (with an application for employment in my bag) a co-unemployed friend called to see if I wanted to meet for happy hour. You bet. Why stop now? I'm Mrs. F#$@ing Rockefeller today.
Getting downtown during the past ten months was actually quite rare. Weekends were packed with other activities and shopping was never on the top of the list. I don't even like shopping. I'm not one of those woman who craves the latest fashions. I don't need retail therapy to get me through a rough day. I'm actually a bit of a cheapskate and find it difficult to part with my hard-earned meager funds. My usual MO is to walk around the store with an item I actually do need and then put it back on the rack and walk out empty handed because I talk myself out of needing it at all. At least for the moment.
So what is going on with me recently? I seem to be spending money like I'm Mrs. F#$@ing Rockefeller. That is, spending money like I have it! First, I book a trip to Vietnam just before quitting my job. Then while job hunting, I book a flight to San Diego to visit friends. As if that isn't enough spending, lately I keep finding myself in downtown shops 'browsing.' What am I doing in these shops at all? My shops are Crossroads Trading Post, Goodwill, Value Village and Take 2 Consignment, not my old haunts of Ann Taylor and Banana Republic. Haunts I visited back in the day, when I was a corporate climber, working for the man, earning the corporate dollar. No, the new me does not patronize these shops any longer. So why, pray tell, am I in there today? The sales got to me! A top for $14.00 and jeans (that fit perfectly!) for $40 at Ann Taylor Loft. How could I say no? I couldn't. I didn't. And I didn't stop there. I sauntered over to BR just to look at jackets. I just wanted to look. Maybe try one or two on. That's all. Nothing more. But once in there, I found one on sale that fit perfectly. I couldn't force myself to put it back on the rack. As I was leaving the store (with an application for employment in my bag) a co-unemployed friend called to see if I wanted to meet for happy hour. You bet. Why stop now? I'm Mrs. F#$@ing Rockefeller today.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Back in the Dating Saddle
Today was a first. I had a first date with a man who lives in Lacey (near Olympia if you're wondering "where the #@*# is Lacey?"). We met on Plenty of Fish.com. Our date started at 6.45 a.m. Another first for me. Anyone who knows me, knows I'm not a morning person. Unless I'm getting up to catch a flight somewhere, I'm generally not out of the sack at 6.45 a.m., no less dressed, made up and date-ready at that hour.
My POF date wanted to be sure he wouldn't hit any traffic so he left his house at 5.30 expecting to arrive at mine around 7.30. Luckily he called a little after 6.00 to let me know traffic was smooth and he expected to be at my place around 6.45. Crap. I shook the cobwebs out of my brain and hustled onto my feet to get ready. And what exactly does one do on a date at 6.45 a.m. if it wasn't a continuation of a date from the night before? On those occasions, I'm pretty sure of the protocol.
Our plan was to go to breakfast, so after a climb up to Kelly Park to view the sunrise (somehow this whole date seems backwards already, doesn't it?), we walked to the 5 Spot Cafe on Queen Anne where the breakfast is phenomenal. But they aren't open yet! They don't open until 8.30...the time I'm normally getting out of bed. We wander down the street and decide on El Diablo Coffee Shop. However, it's more coffee-shop than restaurant so breakfast items were limited. After lingering as long as humanly possible over our lattes and toast waiting for things to open, we take a stroll and end up getting pedicures. His suggestion which I commend him for being both bold enough to suggest it and brave enough to go through with it. In hindsight, I realize a couples pedicure is a bit too intimate for a first date activity.
After our pedi's we walked to Pike Place Market (POF hadn't ever been to Seattle and he's lived in the area since 1995.). We did the tour, saw the fish toss, took photos, had a Starbucks, all the while discussing all the things you discuss on a first date.
If I had realized he was from Lacey initially, I wouldn't have replied to his first contact. That's just geographically unrealistic for this transportationally challenged woman. He's also looking for someone who is ready to settle down in his Lacey home which includes a TV in every room, a DVD collection of 1300 movies, and three vehicles (a truck, a muscle car and a van). He doesn't like the city or the country. He likes what he calls "the in between" because they have it "all", a Home Depot, Lowe's and Block Buster Video where you can park real easily. Yeah, that's what I dub the "suburbs." Clearly, this wandering urban woman is not a match for this Lacey nester.
His parking meter ran out at noon and I chose to end the date at that point. I began to ask him if he needed a bite or a drink before heading south to beat traffic, but quite frankly, after 5+ hours of morning date, what I needed was a nap.
This internet dating is just too much work for me. Work I really don't want to do. I've got a 25 year old whose user name is "24talkin2u"... and another 28 year old user name "bahamapapa" who wants to 'chat.' There's only one possible topic we could be chatting about and I'm not into it. Then a 60 year old vies for my attention with pictures that range from 1977-2002. Yes, his most recent photo is six years old. And here I was feeling a little guilty about my own photo which is a year old.
To top it off, my worst fear has been realized. A male friend came across my profile and called me up to pitch me some crap about it. Ugh. Somehow there is just a weird, creepy feeling about having your pals see you in action, selling your stupid self on the internet. He even admitted that he felt oddly freaked out about reading my personal profile. He quickly clicked out of it and then called me up! Since he didn't respond to it on line, I have no idea what his user name is, or I might have taken a peak and checked out his profile. I mean tit for tat. He saw me naked, so now I get to see him!
My POF date wanted to be sure he wouldn't hit any traffic so he left his house at 5.30 expecting to arrive at mine around 7.30. Luckily he called a little after 6.00 to let me know traffic was smooth and he expected to be at my place around 6.45. Crap. I shook the cobwebs out of my brain and hustled onto my feet to get ready. And what exactly does one do on a date at 6.45 a.m. if it wasn't a continuation of a date from the night before? On those occasions, I'm pretty sure of the protocol.
Our plan was to go to breakfast, so after a climb up to Kelly Park to view the sunrise (somehow this whole date seems backwards already, doesn't it?), we walked to the 5 Spot Cafe on Queen Anne where the breakfast is phenomenal. But they aren't open yet! They don't open until 8.30...the time I'm normally getting out of bed. We wander down the street and decide on El Diablo Coffee Shop. However, it's more coffee-shop than restaurant so breakfast items were limited. After lingering as long as humanly possible over our lattes and toast waiting for things to open, we take a stroll and end up getting pedicures. His suggestion which I commend him for being both bold enough to suggest it and brave enough to go through with it. In hindsight, I realize a couples pedicure is a bit too intimate for a first date activity.
After our pedi's we walked to Pike Place Market (POF hadn't ever been to Seattle and he's lived in the area since 1995.). We did the tour, saw the fish toss, took photos, had a Starbucks, all the while discussing all the things you discuss on a first date.
If I had realized he was from Lacey initially, I wouldn't have replied to his first contact. That's just geographically unrealistic for this transportationally challenged woman. He's also looking for someone who is ready to settle down in his Lacey home which includes a TV in every room, a DVD collection of 1300 movies, and three vehicles (a truck, a muscle car and a van). He doesn't like the city or the country. He likes what he calls "the in between" because they have it "all", a Home Depot, Lowe's and Block Buster Video where you can park real easily. Yeah, that's what I dub the "suburbs." Clearly, this wandering urban woman is not a match for this Lacey nester.
His parking meter ran out at noon and I chose to end the date at that point. I began to ask him if he needed a bite or a drink before heading south to beat traffic, but quite frankly, after 5+ hours of morning date, what I needed was a nap.
This internet dating is just too much work for me. Work I really don't want to do. I've got a 25 year old whose user name is "24talkin2u"... and another 28 year old user name "bahamapapa" who wants to 'chat.' There's only one possible topic we could be chatting about and I'm not into it. Then a 60 year old vies for my attention with pictures that range from 1977-2002. Yes, his most recent photo is six years old. And here I was feeling a little guilty about my own photo which is a year old.
To top it off, my worst fear has been realized. A male friend came across my profile and called me up to pitch me some crap about it. Ugh. Somehow there is just a weird, creepy feeling about having your pals see you in action, selling your stupid self on the internet. He even admitted that he felt oddly freaked out about reading my personal profile. He quickly clicked out of it and then called me up! Since he didn't respond to it on line, I have no idea what his user name is, or I might have taken a peak and checked out his profile. I mean tit for tat. He saw me naked, so now I get to see him!
Monday, September 8, 2008
A Sporty-Spice Kind of Weekend
Unable to persuade any of my pals to accompany me to the Storm game Saturday, I went anyway. Being alone certainly isn't going to stop me from having an experience. I figured at the very least, I could just go for the first half and then, like a restaurant critic, sneak out before the final course if things got bad. Well, I should have known better. As someone who, while channel surfing, comes across a curling match and pauses to take a peek and then gets totally sucked in, I should have known once there, I was in it for the long haul.
From my 9th row seat, I had a great view of an exiting game. It was neck in neck for the first quarter, then the Storm was down ten points at half time. The half time show was a performance by One World Taiko, an amazing Japanese drum ensemble who wowed the crowd. The Storm dance troupe, consisting of children ages 5-16 (more tots than teens), entertained us between quarters and during timeouts. Good little dancers, but, yes, tiny tots. The little girls had manes of long flowing hair they tossed about like sex kittens on top of a sleazy bar. That was slightly unnerving. But I tried to stuff my old fogy attitude away and appreciate the overall talent.
During the second half, the Storm came back fightin' and pulled ahead quickly. Late in the fourth quarter, Sheryl Swoope took a belt to the head which knocked her out cold. There were the usual hushed speculations amongst the crowd before she was hauled off on a stretcher. Then the team carried on and won the game by 12 points!
Yes, it was an exciting game. I was yelling, hollering, cheering and getting into it whole heartedly. I tried to chalk up a conversation with the guy sitting next to me, but no response. He was with his family. I wasn't flirting! Just trying to have some fun with the people who were near me! It's a sporting event for crying out loud.
Next day, after a heart pumping power walk, I did make that driving range date I promised myself. I figured I'd practice my swing, then saunter out onto the patio to sip a cool something or other and check out my fellow golfers. That backfired. The patio was closed for a private kiddie party. That shouldn't even be allowed. It's a golf club. Golfers expect to sit on the patio for cold one after a round of golf! While I was practicing my putting, a fella asked where the nearest place was to have a drink outside. I directed him to downtown Ballard. I'm pretty sure, based on his mannerisms, he was trying to figure out a way to ask me along. Sometimes it's a good thing that I'm right handed so my golf glove is worn on my left. Of course, in most cases that works against me since honing in on the wedding ring is my first order of business when I'm clocking a guy.
Definitely loads of men there, though. Will have to frequent more often-and maybe I'll actually improve my game in the process! Which really is the point, after all.
From my 9th row seat, I had a great view of an exiting game. It was neck in neck for the first quarter, then the Storm was down ten points at half time. The half time show was a performance by One World Taiko, an amazing Japanese drum ensemble who wowed the crowd. The Storm dance troupe, consisting of children ages 5-16 (more tots than teens), entertained us between quarters and during timeouts. Good little dancers, but, yes, tiny tots. The little girls had manes of long flowing hair they tossed about like sex kittens on top of a sleazy bar. That was slightly unnerving. But I tried to stuff my old fogy attitude away and appreciate the overall talent.
During the second half, the Storm came back fightin' and pulled ahead quickly. Late in the fourth quarter, Sheryl Swoope took a belt to the head which knocked her out cold. There were the usual hushed speculations amongst the crowd before she was hauled off on a stretcher. Then the team carried on and won the game by 12 points!
Yes, it was an exciting game. I was yelling, hollering, cheering and getting into it whole heartedly. I tried to chalk up a conversation with the guy sitting next to me, but no response. He was with his family. I wasn't flirting! Just trying to have some fun with the people who were near me! It's a sporting event for crying out loud.
Next day, after a heart pumping power walk, I did make that driving range date I promised myself. I figured I'd practice my swing, then saunter out onto the patio to sip a cool something or other and check out my fellow golfers. That backfired. The patio was closed for a private kiddie party. That shouldn't even be allowed. It's a golf club. Golfers expect to sit on the patio for cold one after a round of golf! While I was practicing my putting, a fella asked where the nearest place was to have a drink outside. I directed him to downtown Ballard. I'm pretty sure, based on his mannerisms, he was trying to figure out a way to ask me along. Sometimes it's a good thing that I'm right handed so my golf glove is worn on my left. Of course, in most cases that works against me since honing in on the wedding ring is my first order of business when I'm clocking a guy.
Definitely loads of men there, though. Will have to frequent more often-and maybe I'll actually improve my game in the process! Which really is the point, after all.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Day Four
Day four of unemployment. Not a lot has happened since day one. More of the same actually. I did send out a couple of resumes and made some contacts. I've met different friends and acquaintances for lunch, coffee and dinner. It's all about networking, right? Baked banana bread (seems to be what unemployed people do-bake). Been exercising, walking and going to yoga where I met another new classmate. Yes, a woman. I only seem to meet women in this town.
In a fit of poor judgment and frustration of having no male friends or dates in sight, I signed on to "Plentyoffish.com". It's free. And it's a little overwhelming. For anyone who has gone through the internet dating saga, you know what I mean. Have you ever gotten one of those matches where you click on the pictures and actually make an involuntary shutter and a noise like you've just seen a squished worm? Yeah. It's been depressing. And then there's that list of men who have reviewed your profile, but have passed you by. They are usually the handsome, successful ones. Why do they even bother to show you that list? I don't get it. What am I about to do, click on one of them and say "hey, you made a mistake passing me by! Give me a chance. I'm cuter than my picture." Sure, like who hasn't said that?
I just don't have what it takes for internet dating.
To make matters worse, the woman I had lunch with yesterday gave me tickets to the Storm game for Saturday night. She informed me that the games are really fun, but warned the bleachers are generally packed with lesbians. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just that it's another event full of women, for women, where I'll meet more women.
I think it's time to make a date with the driving range! And maybe they're hiring.
In a fit of poor judgment and frustration of having no male friends or dates in sight, I signed on to "Plentyoffish.com". It's free. And it's a little overwhelming. For anyone who has gone through the internet dating saga, you know what I mean. Have you ever gotten one of those matches where you click on the pictures and actually make an involuntary shutter and a noise like you've just seen a squished worm? Yeah. It's been depressing. And then there's that list of men who have reviewed your profile, but have passed you by. They are usually the handsome, successful ones. Why do they even bother to show you that list? I don't get it. What am I about to do, click on one of them and say "hey, you made a mistake passing me by! Give me a chance. I'm cuter than my picture." Sure, like who hasn't said that?
I just don't have what it takes for internet dating.
To make matters worse, the woman I had lunch with yesterday gave me tickets to the Storm game for Saturday night. She informed me that the games are really fun, but warned the bleachers are generally packed with lesbians. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just that it's another event full of women, for women, where I'll meet more women.
I think it's time to make a date with the driving range! And maybe they're hiring.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Easing into Something
Today was my first day of unemployment-yet, again. It's a situation that is none too foreign to me fortunately. Or unfortunately. However one chooses to look at the situation. It's a position I've chosen, so I can't moan and groan about it. I've actually chosen my sanity over working for a - shall I say "challenging" boss. He still owes me my final paycheck, so I've coveted his Vespa until he coughs up the dough. Seems fair enough given his M.O.
So I had a leisurely morning of drinking coffee in my bathrobe while researching jobs, schools, answering emails that have piled up over the long weekend, and booking a trip to San Diego. Yes, I get so easily distracted when I get on this computer. One thing leads to another, which leads to a few phone calls with friends afar, which ultimately leads to ... a trip.
I won't say what time I finally climbed out of my bathrobe and donned some actual clothing, but the sun had come out beckoning me to join it. I wasn't getting very far on the job/school search either. After a few hours of that, it begins to seem very futile and monotonous. It's only day one for crying out loud. Save a little job searching for tomorrow. Besides, I don't even know what I'm looking for at this point. I need to time to think, reflect, breathe and detox from the old job!
So I ran a couple of errands. First stop hair color. I had splurged and had my hair "professionally" colored at Rudy's for my birthday (yeah, I went all out), but now that I'm unemployed, it's back to the 'box'. After a few more stops, I went to Green Lake for a nice walk. It was such beautiful fall-like day. I got half way around when I overheard a girl telling someone on the phone that she was near "World Wraps." World Wraps? Yum. I haven't had a wrap for ages. I'm hungry. I promptly veer off the walking path and head straight for a (small size) "Spicy Caribbean Sole" wrap. Again, I can't seem to stay on task.
I happily nosh on my wrap and then get back to business, feeling more content, although a little guilty. I shouldn't be spending money on World Wraps and I definitely shouldn't be interrupting my exercise to EAT!
Okay, it's just my first day. Although I'm no novice at being unemployed, I do need to give myself a little time to adjust to my new routine. A routine of having no set routine that is. At least for a few days.
So I had a leisurely morning of drinking coffee in my bathrobe while researching jobs, schools, answering emails that have piled up over the long weekend, and booking a trip to San Diego. Yes, I get so easily distracted when I get on this computer. One thing leads to another, which leads to a few phone calls with friends afar, which ultimately leads to ... a trip.
I won't say what time I finally climbed out of my bathrobe and donned some actual clothing, but the sun had come out beckoning me to join it. I wasn't getting very far on the job/school search either. After a few hours of that, it begins to seem very futile and monotonous. It's only day one for crying out loud. Save a little job searching for tomorrow. Besides, I don't even know what I'm looking for at this point. I need to time to think, reflect, breathe and detox from the old job!
So I ran a couple of errands. First stop hair color. I had splurged and had my hair "professionally" colored at Rudy's for my birthday (yeah, I went all out), but now that I'm unemployed, it's back to the 'box'. After a few more stops, I went to Green Lake for a nice walk. It was such beautiful fall-like day. I got half way around when I overheard a girl telling someone on the phone that she was near "World Wraps." World Wraps? Yum. I haven't had a wrap for ages. I'm hungry. I promptly veer off the walking path and head straight for a (small size) "Spicy Caribbean Sole" wrap. Again, I can't seem to stay on task.
I happily nosh on my wrap and then get back to business, feeling more content, although a little guilty. I shouldn't be spending money on World Wraps and I definitely shouldn't be interrupting my exercise to EAT!
Okay, it's just my first day. Although I'm no novice at being unemployed, I do need to give myself a little time to adjust to my new routine. A routine of having no set routine that is. At least for a few days.
Monday, August 25, 2008
An August Trek in the Rain
Trying to embrace the final days of summer in the Pacific Northwest, my hiking buddy and I headed up to Mt. Pilchuck for our second hike of the season (we're busy girls, hard to get much hiking time into one very short summer season in the PNW). I had plans on Saturday, so we went on Sunday. I loaded my day pack with all the necessary equipment, the all important lunch, Swiss army knife, sun screen, loads of water, and a couple extra layers for warmth in case it got chilly later. I stepped out into the morning sun and caught the bus up to Bothell to meet my friend.
Donning sunglasses and flip flops (hiking boots in the pack), it never occurred to me that the weather would be any different. After all, Saturday was sunny and in the 80's, the perfect August day.
Mt Pilchuck's 2100 foot elevation gain is a much easier hike than Mt Si's 3700 foot elevation gain. The guidebook describes it as a gradual climb, "no more difficult than climbing your stairs at home." Yeah, all 3 miles up. My four story walk up to my apartment barely prepared me for the rock scrambling climb. I wouldn't exactly say it was the 'grandma hike' the guidebook practically described, but I definitely was able to keep up with my friend this time and got a plenty good workout.
The last bit was the toughest. Some descending climber made the comment as he passed by "you're almost there!" Unless that lookout tower is around the very next bend, I don't want to hear the phrase, "you're almost there." Like telling a child in the car that you're almost there, you don't do it until you're pulling into the driveway. The "false summit" is the worst.
By the time we reached the top, scrambling over the boulders, the rain drops began to fall. Rain drops? Are you kidding me? It was totally sunny with stellar views just a few short steps below. The wind suddenly picked up, rain drops became bigger and more dense and I swear I felt snow flakes as we monkeyed our way up the slick, metal ladder to the lookout tower. Apparently, I was clearly the only hiker who failed to check the weather report before setting out for a day hike. I quickly climbed into my layers of long-sleeved warmth, while everyone else slid into their rain gear. Yeah, I had weather amnesia. Two whole days of sunshine and I forgot where I lived. August 24th. Only those of us in Seattle, and maybe Alaska, would think of the possibility of rain-cold rain- on August 24th.
We grazed on our lunches, luckily under the shelter of the lookout tower, took in the foggy socked in views and began our descent down the mountain. Down the mountain is always trickier than up. No one ever admits this. No one ever talks about it. But going down, for me, is actually more difficult. A prior foot injury and knee surgery makes going down more work. At one point I actually had to stop part way, remove my boot, and wait for the pain to subside under the dry protection of a tree branch. I told my partner to go ahead, don't wait, I'll be fine. This is normal for me. She looked at me drenched in her rain slicker. Unsure of what to do. I waved her off. She turned and continued onward. Not two minutes passed when I looked up and saw her coming back toward me trudging through the rain and mud. "I can't just leave you here in the hopes you make it down eventually!" she says. Awww, what a friend. On a trail as populated as that one, I'm sure I would have found some kind soul to assist me if necessary. However, nice to know what a great friend, and hiking buddy, she makes. Note to self: invest in hiking poles.
When choosing the trail for this weekend's hike, she had suggested Mt. Pilchuck or Mailbox Peak. Mailbox Peak? Mailbox Peak is a grind. At 4000 foot elevation gain, I swear it begins straight out of the parking lot. You step out of your car and start UP and it just keeps going, without any views what-so-ever, until you finally reach the top. At such point the views are incredible. I think you can see Kansas or something. I did Mailbox when I was in my hiking (and fitness) prime, twice even. I'm in no way ready for Mailbox today. Maybe with a few more hikes under my belt this year, I'll be ready for Mailbox before winter. We'll see.
As for today, I went to yoga to give my rubbery legs a good stretching and cool down from yesterday's workout. Hurray for yoga.
Donning sunglasses and flip flops (hiking boots in the pack), it never occurred to me that the weather would be any different. After all, Saturday was sunny and in the 80's, the perfect August day.
Mt Pilchuck's 2100 foot elevation gain is a much easier hike than Mt Si's 3700 foot elevation gain. The guidebook describes it as a gradual climb, "no more difficult than climbing your stairs at home." Yeah, all 3 miles up. My four story walk up to my apartment barely prepared me for the rock scrambling climb. I wouldn't exactly say it was the 'grandma hike' the guidebook practically described, but I definitely was able to keep up with my friend this time and got a plenty good workout.
The last bit was the toughest. Some descending climber made the comment as he passed by "you're almost there!" Unless that lookout tower is around the very next bend, I don't want to hear the phrase, "you're almost there." Like telling a child in the car that you're almost there, you don't do it until you're pulling into the driveway. The "false summit" is the worst.
By the time we reached the top, scrambling over the boulders, the rain drops began to fall. Rain drops? Are you kidding me? It was totally sunny with stellar views just a few short steps below. The wind suddenly picked up, rain drops became bigger and more dense and I swear I felt snow flakes as we monkeyed our way up the slick, metal ladder to the lookout tower. Apparently, I was clearly the only hiker who failed to check the weather report before setting out for a day hike. I quickly climbed into my layers of long-sleeved warmth, while everyone else slid into their rain gear. Yeah, I had weather amnesia. Two whole days of sunshine and I forgot where I lived. August 24th. Only those of us in Seattle, and maybe Alaska, would think of the possibility of rain-cold rain- on August 24th.
We grazed on our lunches, luckily under the shelter of the lookout tower, took in the foggy socked in views and began our descent down the mountain. Down the mountain is always trickier than up. No one ever admits this. No one ever talks about it. But going down, for me, is actually more difficult. A prior foot injury and knee surgery makes going down more work. At one point I actually had to stop part way, remove my boot, and wait for the pain to subside under the dry protection of a tree branch. I told my partner to go ahead, don't wait, I'll be fine. This is normal for me. She looked at me drenched in her rain slicker. Unsure of what to do. I waved her off. She turned and continued onward. Not two minutes passed when I looked up and saw her coming back toward me trudging through the rain and mud. "I can't just leave you here in the hopes you make it down eventually!" she says. Awww, what a friend. On a trail as populated as that one, I'm sure I would have found some kind soul to assist me if necessary. However, nice to know what a great friend, and hiking buddy, she makes. Note to self: invest in hiking poles.
When choosing the trail for this weekend's hike, she had suggested Mt. Pilchuck or Mailbox Peak. Mailbox Peak? Mailbox Peak is a grind. At 4000 foot elevation gain, I swear it begins straight out of the parking lot. You step out of your car and start UP and it just keeps going, without any views what-so-ever, until you finally reach the top. At such point the views are incredible. I think you can see Kansas or something. I did Mailbox when I was in my hiking (and fitness) prime, twice even. I'm in no way ready for Mailbox today. Maybe with a few more hikes under my belt this year, I'll be ready for Mailbox before winter. We'll see.
As for today, I went to yoga to give my rubbery legs a good stretching and cool down from yesterday's workout. Hurray for yoga.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Slump
I've been in a bit of a slump lately. Not that I haven't got plenty of blog material. It's there. Or here (I'm pointing at my head right now), but I can't seem to sit down and put it down on this virtual paper.
Plus I'm such a crab apple these days. You know how you get down to the last week of work when you're about to leave a job and it just gets unbearably brutal? That's where I am these days. One week left. I'm so over it, yet there is still another full week of nonsense to plow through. I'm close enough to see the finish line, but not close enough to be totally victorious yet.
What else might be making me a bit crabby is the fact that it's almost FALL and I have no plan. However, I've never actually had much of a plan-ever- so why is that just now making me crabby? Probably because everyone keeps asking me for the plan. Like I would actually have a clue about what I was up to. Don't these people know who they are dealing with? It's ME. You know. The one who continually operates without plan!
Check in over the weekend. I'll post again soon, with a more upbeat and humorous bit. I'm sure I'll be out of my slump in, oh, about 45 minutes.
Plus I'm such a crab apple these days. You know how you get down to the last week of work when you're about to leave a job and it just gets unbearably brutal? That's where I am these days. One week left. I'm so over it, yet there is still another full week of nonsense to plow through. I'm close enough to see the finish line, but not close enough to be totally victorious yet.
What else might be making me a bit crabby is the fact that it's almost FALL and I have no plan. However, I've never actually had much of a plan-ever- so why is that just now making me crabby? Probably because everyone keeps asking me for the plan. Like I would actually have a clue about what I was up to. Don't these people know who they are dealing with? It's ME. You know. The one who continually operates without plan!
Check in over the weekend. I'll post again soon, with a more upbeat and humorous bit. I'm sure I'll be out of my slump in, oh, about 45 minutes.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Fly the Friendly Skies...or Just Walk
Besides becoming ridiculously expensive, air travel has become down right exhausting. It used to be fun to travel by air. You'd go to the airport and after check in, zip through security and head to the bar to have a celebratory cocktail to kick off the start of your tropical vacation. Once on the aircraft you'd hunker down with your 5 x 7 inch foam puff called a pillow and scratchy, yet, warmish blanket. A meal was served, the flight attendants were pleasant, cheerful even. You'd reach your destination and retrieve your luggage from baggage claim and be merrily on your way.
Today's scenario is much more grim. First of all, just getting through security involves the patience of Jobe. Wearing flip flops, no belt, no jewelry, and removing your fillings beforehand will speed things up. Rather than one of those plastic bins, I seem to require three plus the plastic dish for my bracelets, rings and hair clip. By the time you remove your shoes, remove your laptop, don't let your laptop case touch your laptop, make sure everything is flat, your purse is in a separate bin, your cardigan sweater is removed, you realize there is no time for that relaxing pre-flight cocktail!
You walk through the security pass thru, practically naked by now, and rush to gather your belongings while the other bins from those behind you are crashing into yours and you are attempting to stuff your feet into your shoes and put your belt on at the same time to get out of the way and keep the line moving.
The poor airline industry is suffering and we, the consumers, suffer the most. Over the past three weeks I've had the pleasure of working with four different airlines.
United Airlines. At work, our Cypriot participants flew in from Cyprus on United. They came in two groups, one flew in from Turkey, the others directly from Cyprus. The first group were due in on a Sunday evening, however, their flight was cancelled from Chicago to Seattle via Las Vegas. Just cancelled. Not delayed. Not postponed. Just flat out cancelled. Our two Turkish Cypriots, one of them disabled, were on their own in Chicago to figure out how to get to Seattle. They finally arrived at 1.00 a.m. Monday morning. The second group, a group of 17, were due to arrive on Monday afternoon at 2.30 p.m. We received a call in our office at 10.00 a.m. that their flight had been cancelled. Not delayed. Not postponed. Just flat out cancelled.
Apparently, the crew were over their flight hours and there were no backup crew members available. Was this scheduled flight a surprise? Did someone completely forget to book crew for an entire plane? The airlines suggested they keep the group on standby and get them onto planes as seats became available. The agent actually said that with other delays from other cities, it's probable that many people will miss their connections and our participants can get those seats...if they are, in fact, available. That sounds ideal. Have our group sit in the airport endlessly awaiting the possibility of a seat or two here or there as they may or may not arise. And what are we suppose to do here in Seattle? Drive back and forth to the airport several times throughout the day fetching these folks and getting them to their hotel? No, no. Unacceptable. The solution was, of course, to keep the group together and get them on the next available flight. This turned out to be the following day. They arrived on Tuesday night at 8.30. They lost an entire day of their scheduled program in Seattle.
Last week I was in Colorado for my cousin's wedding when his two daughters' flight was cancelled going back to New York. The airlines - United.
Unlike the days of yore where all airlines pretty much offered the same 'perks', today each airline has something different going on. I flew Frontier on my way to the wedding. I'd never flown Frontier before. It was comfortable enough, but no free snacks at all. No cookies, no nuts. We did receive a complimentary beverage, however. And I was still allowed the one checked in piece of luggage.
American Airlines, flown from Denver to DC, made me cough up an extra $15 for my one checked luggage. Of course I had to check it because I had all my lotions, potions, liquids and gels to transport. I also was traveling for work and play so already had a laptop and tote to carry on. Once on the plane, pillows and blankets (thin, felt, fabric thingy- but who's going to complain? At least I got one.) were provided, as well as a complimentary beverage. No little screens were installed on the back of the seats and no movie offered.
Because of the luggage fee, every passenger drags on every bit of luggage and attempts to stuff it under the seat, overhead, on their laps, in the front pouches of their seats, you name it. How, exactly, is this checked luggage fee saving the weight on the plane? Are they unaware of the fact that the weight is still on the plane? And by the looks of some of my fellow passengers it appears that if I just ate my luggage, I could avoid paying any excess charges. As far as the baggage crew, do they think they are saving on manpower costs to put the luggage on the plane? Wait until the surge of L&I claims come flooding in because the on board crew are forced to help the passengers wrestle with their heavy carry ons in the overhead compartments!
From DC to Seattle it was Jet Blue. Jet Blue has the cushiest, roomiest seats of all of them. They boast the most legroom of any airlines. I think they might be right. The passengers wedged in the window and center seats could actually exit the row without the aisle guy having to get up! They did offer a variety of snacks including chips, cookies, animal crackers, nuts, trail mix and some stuff I can't remember because the list was actually quite long. However, you had to pay $7.00 for a blanket and another fee for a pillow-like object. The headsets for the individual little personal screens cost $1.00, payable 'on your honor' at the gate. Oh, and they didn't charge for my one checked bag.
I guess the little differences keep you on your travel toes. You need to pack snacks, a pillow and blanket. Travel light and only take a carry on (buy your lotions and potions at your destination). Soon we're going to be hauling our own luggage down into the belly of the plane and retrieving it ourselves. Actually, that might not be such a bad idea. At least we'd be assured of getting it upon arrival!
As for the crews, it seems they are getting older, wider and crabbier yet doing less. Hell, if I didn't have to feed 300 passengers a crap meal, hand out blankets, pillows and snacks, I think I'd be in a better mood. But that's just me.
With air travel being what it is, it might not be a bad idea to promote hitch hiking again. It made more sense. Share the gas, meet interesting new people, see the countryside, plenty of drive-thrus when hungry or thirsty, rest stops for potty breaks. Chances are, you'd get where you're going a lot faster with a lot less hassle.
Today's scenario is much more grim. First of all, just getting through security involves the patience of Jobe. Wearing flip flops, no belt, no jewelry, and removing your fillings beforehand will speed things up. Rather than one of those plastic bins, I seem to require three plus the plastic dish for my bracelets, rings and hair clip. By the time you remove your shoes, remove your laptop, don't let your laptop case touch your laptop, make sure everything is flat, your purse is in a separate bin, your cardigan sweater is removed, you realize there is no time for that relaxing pre-flight cocktail!
You walk through the security pass thru, practically naked by now, and rush to gather your belongings while the other bins from those behind you are crashing into yours and you are attempting to stuff your feet into your shoes and put your belt on at the same time to get out of the way and keep the line moving.
The poor airline industry is suffering and we, the consumers, suffer the most. Over the past three weeks I've had the pleasure of working with four different airlines.
United Airlines. At work, our Cypriot participants flew in from Cyprus on United. They came in two groups, one flew in from Turkey, the others directly from Cyprus. The first group were due in on a Sunday evening, however, their flight was cancelled from Chicago to Seattle via Las Vegas. Just cancelled. Not delayed. Not postponed. Just flat out cancelled. Our two Turkish Cypriots, one of them disabled, were on their own in Chicago to figure out how to get to Seattle. They finally arrived at 1.00 a.m. Monday morning. The second group, a group of 17, were due to arrive on Monday afternoon at 2.30 p.m. We received a call in our office at 10.00 a.m. that their flight had been cancelled. Not delayed. Not postponed. Just flat out cancelled.
Apparently, the crew were over their flight hours and there were no backup crew members available. Was this scheduled flight a surprise? Did someone completely forget to book crew for an entire plane? The airlines suggested they keep the group on standby and get them onto planes as seats became available. The agent actually said that with other delays from other cities, it's probable that many people will miss their connections and our participants can get those seats...if they are, in fact, available. That sounds ideal. Have our group sit in the airport endlessly awaiting the possibility of a seat or two here or there as they may or may not arise. And what are we suppose to do here in Seattle? Drive back and forth to the airport several times throughout the day fetching these folks and getting them to their hotel? No, no. Unacceptable. The solution was, of course, to keep the group together and get them on the next available flight. This turned out to be the following day. They arrived on Tuesday night at 8.30. They lost an entire day of their scheduled program in Seattle.
Last week I was in Colorado for my cousin's wedding when his two daughters' flight was cancelled going back to New York. The airlines - United.
Unlike the days of yore where all airlines pretty much offered the same 'perks', today each airline has something different going on. I flew Frontier on my way to the wedding. I'd never flown Frontier before. It was comfortable enough, but no free snacks at all. No cookies, no nuts. We did receive a complimentary beverage, however. And I was still allowed the one checked in piece of luggage.
American Airlines, flown from Denver to DC, made me cough up an extra $15 for my one checked luggage. Of course I had to check it because I had all my lotions, potions, liquids and gels to transport. I also was traveling for work and play so already had a laptop and tote to carry on. Once on the plane, pillows and blankets (thin, felt, fabric thingy- but who's going to complain? At least I got one.) were provided, as well as a complimentary beverage. No little screens were installed on the back of the seats and no movie offered.
Because of the luggage fee, every passenger drags on every bit of luggage and attempts to stuff it under the seat, overhead, on their laps, in the front pouches of their seats, you name it. How, exactly, is this checked luggage fee saving the weight on the plane? Are they unaware of the fact that the weight is still on the plane? And by the looks of some of my fellow passengers it appears that if I just ate my luggage, I could avoid paying any excess charges. As far as the baggage crew, do they think they are saving on manpower costs to put the luggage on the plane? Wait until the surge of L&I claims come flooding in because the on board crew are forced to help the passengers wrestle with their heavy carry ons in the overhead compartments!
From DC to Seattle it was Jet Blue. Jet Blue has the cushiest, roomiest seats of all of them. They boast the most legroom of any airlines. I think they might be right. The passengers wedged in the window and center seats could actually exit the row without the aisle guy having to get up! They did offer a variety of snacks including chips, cookies, animal crackers, nuts, trail mix and some stuff I can't remember because the list was actually quite long. However, you had to pay $7.00 for a blanket and another fee for a pillow-like object. The headsets for the individual little personal screens cost $1.00, payable 'on your honor' at the gate. Oh, and they didn't charge for my one checked bag.
I guess the little differences keep you on your travel toes. You need to pack snacks, a pillow and blanket. Travel light and only take a carry on (buy your lotions and potions at your destination). Soon we're going to be hauling our own luggage down into the belly of the plane and retrieving it ourselves. Actually, that might not be such a bad idea. At least we'd be assured of getting it upon arrival!
As for the crews, it seems they are getting older, wider and crabbier yet doing less. Hell, if I didn't have to feed 300 passengers a crap meal, hand out blankets, pillows and snacks, I think I'd be in a better mood. But that's just me.
With air travel being what it is, it might not be a bad idea to promote hitch hiking again. It made more sense. Share the gas, meet interesting new people, see the countryside, plenty of drive-thrus when hungry or thirsty, rest stops for potty breaks. Chances are, you'd get where you're going a lot faster with a lot less hassle.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Still Celebrating
After being gone for the past ten days, I opened my stuffed mailbox to find several birthday cards mixed in between the bills, the ads and the junk mail. What a nice treat! There is nothing better than personal mail. And it's like celebrating my birthday all over again.
Then I received a voice message from another friend who wants to take me out for my birthday since she was busy that day. I'm also going to dinner this week with my sister-in-law to celebrate both of our birthdays since hers was six days after mine and I was out of town. Okay, this is more of a celebration for her than me-but it's still a birthday celebration.
When I came home from the grocery store today my apartment manager left a package for me. Said it was delivered while I was gone. It was from my friend who recently moved back to Tennessee and consisted of several wonderful body pampering products which I love! I'm such a product girl. What a surprise! She shouldn't have sent so much- but I will definitely enjoy all of them.
Someone once told me of a woman she knew who celebrates her birthday for the exact number of days representing the number of years she is celebrating. Doing the math we are now on day 15, that leaves me with a lot of days left to celebrate. But why stop there?
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