Swimming with the Fishes

A long time ago, when we were just starting this whole long-distance situation, my boyfriend and I comforted ourselves with the thought of all those plane rides turning into free plane tickets.  And so we planned on Hawaii, to which neither of us has ever been.  We planned to get SCUBA certified and learn to surf well enough to enjoy the surf.  We narrowed it down to Maui and bought the travel book and started planning.

And then guess what happened.  That’s right, the airlines that Southwest used went under.  And that free ticket I now have?  Well, it’s sure as fuck not getting me to Hawaii any time soon.

So now we’re back at square one.  Now that the tickets are actually going to cost us more money, we have to decide if Hawaii is really the place we want to spend our Labor Day.  I, for one, have a Passport that expires in 2013 and I would like to fill it up before then.  And sadly, Canada doesn’t stamp so that put a damper on my plans over Presidents’ Day weekend.

But I digress.  Now we are looking at Belize.  We’ve signed up for SCUBA lessons, starting next month, and Belize would allow us to use our hard-earned and well-payed for SCUBA lessons.  I’ve heard really great things about it and it would add another stamp to the ole’ passport.  To be fair, the Southwest ticket isn’t going to get me to Belize either, but if I’m going to pay for the whole shebang, then why not do something really spectacular?

There’ll be time for Hawaii some other time.

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In other travel news, I’m headed to Portland this weekend for my boyfriend’s sister’s graduation from grad school.  We found out last month that she’s pregnant, so it’ll be nice to see her in all her pregnant glory.  We looked at cute little baby clothes.  And let me tell you, I cannot wait to buy that little baby some tiny shoes.  Yes, I know they are ridiculously expensive, but they are so f’ing cute I can’t even stand it.  Mini shoes!  What is cuter than that?  Nothing, I tell you.

While we’re in PDX, I’m also picking up one of these lovelies.  I have wanted a new computer for so long, but there has always been something stopping me.  For instance, the fact that I already have one.  Yes, that one has really been a stickler.  But now, it’s lived its last life and I’m ready to make the switch from PC to Mac.  I would have bought it about a month ago but, ever diligent, my boyfriend convinced me to wait for Portland because there is no sales tax!  My three favorite words.

The following week we head to Seattle for a friend’s wedding.  And after that I can relax for two weeks.  Well, as much as one can relax while packing up everything to start a new life in an entirely new city.  But it will be nice to not be living out of a suitcase.

The Fortunes, They Don’t Lie…I hope

Last night I had Chinese with a friend for dinner.  And my fortune?  “You will soon be coming into a fortune.”  So, hopefully, the Chinese are taking their fortunes seriously and I will come into a fortune of money.  It will help a lot in regards to the job search, which is going pretty slowly.

Read another way, I suppose the fortune doesn’t have to be money related.  It could be the fortune of moving in with my boyfriend – of being done with the long-distance relationship.  It could be anything.

As the move nears I’m getting more and more nervous.  I haven’t shared such close living quarters with someone since my sophomore year in college.  We are no longer friends.  I have had such bad luck with roommates and I’m hoping that it ends now.  I know that we’ll have our struggles.  I mean, seriously, how much ESPN can one person watch each day?  I guess I’m about to find my thresh hold.  But I also know that being without him for the past eight months has been terribly hard.  I know that when we are together, things just seem right.

So in about 45 days I will take my last flight between the Bay Area and Orange County (okay, that’s a lie; there will be plenty others after that, but the last one of this kind) and move into my new(ish) apartment in Orange County.  I will find a new job and make new friends (but keep the old).  I will find nice restaurants and bars and explore Disney Land, Sea World and Magic Mountain; I will try a Dodger dog at the stadium and watch my cousins’ kids grow up.

I would definitely say I’m coming into a fortune.

Crosswords and Crossroads

I started doing crossword puzzles again this week.  I used to do them every day – in whatever paper I could find.  The weekly free paper in Santa Barbara had an awesome one every Friday that would take me longer than I’d like to admit to do.  The one in the college paper was much easier and I could be done in one class period, between taking notes.

And then I started working.  And, wouldn’t you know it, corporate America is not that conducive to crossword puzzles.  Mostly because someone steals the paper early in the morning.  Isn’t the rule that you read it in the common area and then leave it for the next guy and that only after, say, two- or three-o’clock should you be able to remove the paper from said common area and bring it back to your private area?  Am I alone in my thinking of this?  At my work, yes, I suppose I am.

So lately (ie, this week) I’ve taken to copying the crossword puzzle as soon as I get in and the paper (New York Times) is still pristine in its blue wrapping and no one has touched.  It’s working out well for me and boosts my self-esteem (hey, don’t judge, we all need something) to get through the day.  I’m hoping that if I start Monday then I’ll be able to complete the weekend ones at some point.  Maybe not right away, but by the end of the summer for sure.

By the way, anyone know a three-letter word for “Curly porker” might be?  Or a six-letter word for “Chatty avians”?  That would help me finish Tuesday.

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This weekend I’m headed to Southern California.  This past weekend we had our first long-distance fight.  Actually, I think it might count as our first fight fight.  It didn’t help that it was over the phone, but after 8 months of long distance, I’m surprised that it didn’t happen sooner or more often.

We’re going to try to catch a Dodger’s game and, of course, the famous Dodger Dogs.  I love hot dogs and can’t wait to have one of these.  Apparently you can buy them at the grocery store in Southern California, but I’m holding out for the real deal my first time.  That and relaxing are my only plans for the weekend.  Maybe another go at surfing – hopefully there won’t be any sharks out this weekend.

It’s Getting Hot in Here

I stayed home yesterday to nurse my cold that won’t go away. My boyfriend insisted I try Theraflu and now my mouth is burned. And I’m pretty sure it burned in the awful taste of the Theraflu. Right about now I’m wishing for a toothbrush.

Anyway, I did wake up feeling a bit better this morning (though I’m not willing to concede Theraflu’s part in this just yet) and made it in to work, though I would much prefer to be at home enjoying day time television – thank god Law & Order plays at all times of the day on various channels!

I made it out for a short run this afternoon (3.1 miles) in the heat. It was 85 degrees by 10:20 AM! And yet I still threw on my running gear and sun screen for a noon run. I’m not entirely sure what I was thinking. Wait, scratch that, I don know what I was thinking. I was invited out on a run and it was a way to get me to push myself with other runners and make sure that I actually made it out today. When I got back to my desk it was 95 degrees. I went running at the hottest part of the day in 95 degree heat. And I survived.

I’ve had a week or so off from working out because of this cold, but I really need to get back into it. It’s swim suit season just around the corner and I’ll be in Orange County for Memorial Day so I really have no time to spare.

I really don’t do well with the heat, so I’m not sure why I decided to run at lunch. Really, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I mean, when you’re working out you’re supposed to sweat. So walking back into the offices with sweat running down my face is accepted as long as I’m wearing my work out gear. When I’m dressed for the day it’s a lot less comfortable wandering around in sweaty clothes.

I’ve got plans to attend a wine festival Saturday and it’s going to be hot. Too hot, I fear. I know, I know, there will be wine and that will make everything better. But that’s not entirely true. I do not do well in extreme temperatures, especially heat. If it’s cold, you can always put on layers; if it’s hot, there’s only so much you can take off. When I visit Idaho in the summer time I always ask two questions before I commit to plans: 1) Is there a pool? and 2) Is there air conditioning? If the answer to either or both of these questions is no, I refuse to leave.

So this weekend, I may be the one hiding in shade, attempting not to bring down the excited drunk moods of people around me with my complaints of the heat. I’m not very confident that I’ll be able to stop them, though.

More than Partially Sick

Is there anything worse than being partially sick?  Some would argue that being full-on sick is worse, but I disagree.  Partially sick is awful because you feel strong enough to do things but you know you’re not.

Like right now I’m at work.  And I’m working(ish) and I’m thinking about going for a run when I get home.  But I know that won’t happen.  And even if it did, it would be an utter waste of time due to the fact that I am, in fact, sick.  I just don’t 100% feel sick.

I’ve been trying to fight off this cold for over a week and yet it lingers.  Finding ways to take the fun out of everything.  I can’t breathe.  My eyes are water.  Overall, it’s way less fun than, say, not being sick.

However, it’s worse than not being fully sick because I look okay.  I mean, I don’t sound so great, but I look not sick.  So maybe people aren’t believing me when I tell them I’m sick.  Maybe it will look bad if I call in sick when I’m joking around and laughing.  Therefore, being all the way sick is better than just being partially sick.  When you’re all the way sick then no one questions why you’re out.  When you’re just partially sick, everyone wants you to suck it up and get through the day.

F that.  As of right now I am all the way sick and will all the way call in sick tomorrow.

The Customer (Isn’t) Always Right

Is it just me, or is being the only customer in a small boutique incredibly awkward?  I hate going into small stores when there are clearly no other people in there, other than the person working there.  I feel like there’s so much pressure on me to buy something; that the sales associate is sizing me up and deciding if I can actually afford anything in there.

Yesterday I finally broke down and purchased this wallet I’ve been eying for the better part of a year.  I’m not sure what’s prevented me from getting it, but each time I go into said store I run my fingers over it lovingly but walk out empty handed.  This weekend I finally got sick of looking at my wallet, which used to be so cute and new but is now reaching its last stages of pretty.  So I headed down to Union Street and purchased the beautiful black wallet.

And then I decided to walk around and check out some of the other stores.  I walked into one store that had two other women in it – who left right after I walked in.  I was trapped with the sales woman (owner?  who knows).  The clothes were all out of my price range (over $100 for a shirt is not something I’m willing to pay), but I wanted to at least give the impression that I was interested in the things she had to offer.  Just as I was about to make my escape, however, the woman started talking to me.

And not just in a Oh-how-do-you-do sort of way.  No, this woman was full-on telling me a story.  Right as I was about to leave.  Now I’m stuck sort of looking at clothes and also trying to listen to this story.  “You know, ” she says to me, “I’ve worked in this business for a while now, and I haven’t had that many awkward moments.”  I start to look around, wondering if she’s going to tell me something that would make this situation awkward (for her, that is, it’s already reached that level for me).

“But one time, ” she continues, oblivious to my discomfort, “this heavier woman came in with her daughter.  And I can look at people and tell what size they are.”  Here she stops to look me over, as if she’s about to guess my size right there and I wish I were wearing something more flattering.  She doesn’t guess out loud, however, and continues with her story.  “They’re looking at jeans and how do you tell someone that we don’t carry that size?  So the woman asks about a pair of jeans and I tell them how they fit and say, ‘But I don’t think we’ll have your size.’  And you could tell the woman was upset by this.  But, I mean, how do you say something like that?”

The answer is: you don’t.  You let the woman tell you her size and then you nicely root around in your piles of jeans and say, “We must be out of that size.”  Or, if you really want to point out to the woman that she is, in fact, too heavy to wear said jeans you could say, “Unfortunately, they don’t go to that size.”  And possibly point her in the direction of a designer that does go past size 30 (by the way, when did size 30 become the end of the spectrum?).  Because here’s the thing: no one likes having someone else point out that they are outside of the “normal” spectrum.

I remember trying on shoes at this fancy schmancy place in Santa Barbara.  I asked for a cute pair of heels in size 9 (I know, I know, I have huge feet – what’s even worse is that I’m only 5’6″) and the woman said to me, “We don’t carry anything above a size 8 in heels but I can special order that for you.”  I don’t think I ever went back in to try on shoes there again.  Admittedly, I do have large feet.  But do I want someone pointing that out to me?  No.

And I’m sure the woman with the jeans story wouldn’t like anyone pointing out that her hair looked great on Jesse Spano back in the day.

Waffle Friday Makes the World Go Round

Things I like about work:

1. Breakfast

A coworker and I really enjoy our breakfasts here.  Like many companies in the Bay Area, we are fattened up at work.  Bagels a couple of days a week and fresh fruit every day.  It’s the most important meal of the day, and we enjoy making it.

2.  3:00 (ish) Snack time

Said coworker and I also have snacks at work.  Around 3:00 we have some cheese, crackers and salami.  And I’m not talking that cheap stuff, either.  We get delicious crackers, yummy garlic cheese and tasty salami.  It breaks up the day and reminds me that quitting time is just around the corner.

3. My Cube

Just recently I moved cubes to make room for a new addition to our department.  My new cube comes with a door mat, Zen Room, Bar, Great View of Golden Gate Bridge (relax, it’s a picture, not the real thing).  I have fancy star lights that a friend hung for my birthday last year.  A plant my parents sent when I first started my job.  A director’s chair passed on from my old boss.  It’s nicely cluttered.  Not too much work going on, nor too little.  Just enough.

4. Waffle Friday

Yeah, I guess this sort of goes along with #1, but it’s also completely separate.  Have you heard of Batter Blaster?  It’s so yummy.  We bring it in every other Friday or so and have a TGIF celebration of sorts.    Sometimes you’re a spectator, just there to enjoy the food, and sometimes you’re in charge of something: fruit, syrup, bacon, etc.  It’s something to look forward to during the week and a nice way to start the weekend.

5. Impromptu bar-b-ques.

This afternoon there’s going to be a BBQ.  Nothing too fancy: chicken, fish, veggies, fresh bread. Just the basics.  Now, granted, we don’t do this all the time.  And we just started since the grill was cleaned, but now that the option is out there, well, why not?  Wouldn’t you rather have freshly grilled chicken, fish and vegetables than the pb and j you brought?  I know I would.

6. The People

And this is the most important thing I love – not just like – about my job.  The people here (well, my friends here, anyway) are great people.  They think up Waffle Friday and Impromptu BBQs.  They aren’t stingy with money or time.  They make the days bearable when everything else is going on – like decorating my cube with a bar, Zen room, and flat screen TV.   I guess this is true for most work places: the people make it better.  But this is my first job job, so it’s news to me.

These are the people who understand how bad it can get and know that, sometimes, all you need is a waffle or a countdown to get you through the day.

Hello world!

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!

That’s how it starts? I don’t even have to make up my own first blog post? Pretty fancy, WordPress, pretty fancy.

Well then, Hello, World! Let’s start with a countdown: Today marks 36 days until I can quit my job and 64 days until I join my boyfriend in Southern California after nine (9!) months of long distance. I know, I know, compared to Holly nine months is nothing. But for me, nine months is longer than most – okay, fine, all – of my past relationships. It hasn’t been awful, but it certainly hasn’t been easy. And I know these last two months will be the most trying on us.

I have no job. Let’s just get that out of the way. I have no job and I have no prospects. I have a lot of dreams and a lot of resumes printed, but I haven’t got much else.  And yes, that scares the shit out of me.  I’m scared that it will take me months and months of searching to just find a job – not even a job I want, just one that gives me a pay check.  I’m scared that my boyfriend will think of me as this leech who’s not trying hard enough.

But I’m also really excited.  Right now, I hate waking up so g-d early.  Sometimes I dread waking up (at 5:00 AM!) and making the trek down to work.  The other people I work with are awesome, and I know I’ll miss the m.  But the job itself?  Not so much.  This is my big opportunity to do something.  And that also scares the hell out of me.  What if I don’t do anything?  Or what if I what I do isn’t big enough?

So this blog is the first step in that direction.  Just to write.  To practice my writing.  To get back to it.  And this time I’m getting serious about it. And that means writing every day.  Wish me luck.