It's that time of year again! Time for celebrating the end of one year and the beginning afresh of a new year. It's time to put on your party pants, stay up past midnight and drink too much champagne. It's gotta be the best party of the year, right?
That's where the conundrum begins. . .
What to do on NYE? Have a party, go to a party, go to dinner, make a special dinner, booze it up at a bar, booze it up with friends at home, go out of town, stay in town? Who the hell knows.
All of these options, of course, sound amazing. However, in my old age (hell, next year I'll be celebrating my last NYE of my 20's---EEEK!) I've found some reason against each of these options, reasons for them, and I'm back where I started: total confusion.
If you go to a party, that involves driving to/from the party and everyone knows NYE is more of an amateur night than St. Patty's day and Cinco de Drinko combined. Everyone is drinking and many of them make the mistake of driving after. No matter that cabs are cheap and there are even services that will drive you home FOR FREE! People don't always use their best judgement after a few hot toddy's.
Going to dinner sounds grand, but if you don't have reservations by now (which of course, we don't) you're likely out of luck unless your special new year's eve dinner comes in a to go bag.
Drinking at a bar can also be tricky, as NYE is the one night of the year where even the dive bars feel they can get away with charging a cover. In Sac, covers at the "happening" (according to who, I don't know) places can START at $50. And that's without drinks. And you and I both know mama can put down a drink or two. And this is a celebration, so.... Maybe 3 drinks are in order.
Going out of town would be amazing, but I've never been a fan of taking 5 hours to get home from Tahoe rather than the usual hour and a half.
And this is when I start looking towards my wine fridge to help with my decision making on the subject.
And I know, I'm being too pessimistic about the whole thing, but it's been a while since I've had a NYE that I woke up the next day and said, "wow!"
Here's the sum of the last few years, from what I can remember:
2010: Bounce around midtown on foot with my fave midtowners, popping in at parties of people I don't know (until now, Hi Justin!) Shupe was over it by 10 and headed home, leaving my countdown kiss to cheek kisses from friends after the ball drop.
2009: Hit a friend's suare in midtown, grab dinner, too scared to have even one glass of wine for fear of getting pulled over on the way back to Boredova Heights. Arrived home safety in the 'Heights and proceeded to drink wine and watch Sex and the City. Shupe fell asleep at 10 (am I sensing a pattern?) and I proceeded to ring in the new year with Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte, feeling like I was a total Miranda, maybe even in the episode where she ate the duncan heines cake out of the garbage. (No, I didn't actually DO that, but I felt about that awesome.)
2008: You think I remember what I did in 2008? Pfft. That's about 2 years past my memory bank.
One of the most fun NYE adventures in memory was B.C. (Before ChrisDinosaur), a night spent in San Diego with my previous BFF and some of our fabulous friends at a club with 7 different rooms and a woman handing out bubbly in the restroom. HEAVEN! But that was, eh, 7 years ago, back in my early 20's.... (Let's pause for a minute and remember those days when I used to be fun. When I used to be able to stay up past 10. On a work day. Or a weekend, for that matter.)
Ok, back to the matter at hand.
What to do tomorrow night?
So far, we have one bff coming along with Shupasaurus and I, which will be awesome, but as of now we have no plan, no reservations and no idea where the night will take us. We do, however, have bubbly to help us make up our minds tomorrow evening. And a number to a cab company.
Wish us luck?
P.S.
Yes Mama, I know your parties are fun. Sorry we aren't coming. The drive to/from Diablo Drive Heights is just not in my cards tomorrow. Have fun and take a couple shots of Milagro in my honor. xo
Friday, December 30, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Kickin' Butt and Takin' Names
I've found a new pasttime.
Over the last, eh, four months, I've been enduring thrice-weekly butt kickings at an awesome gym in midtown.
Not one of those "ten minutes on the treadmill and then wander around the gym for ten minutes" kind of places.
It's a "pull 150 pounds on a sled around with a rope tied around your waist" kind of place. In the cold. Up hills.
It's an "add more weight and push yourself to the max" kind of place.
It's also a place of great commaraderie and motivation. Our team encourages each other to go beyond what each other thinks they can do and go further each time. Even on the days when you'd rather go home and sit on the couch after a long day, you feel like a rockstar at the end of that hour because that ass kicking was such a better idea.
I feel awesome. It's not from becoming "skinny," I realize that's just not me. It's from feeling fit, in charge of my body and healthier than I've been since the throngs of the high school soccer days. Hell, I've even caught myself (multiple times!) skipping cocktail hour with my besties in order to do pause squats and kettle bell snatches.
Which brings me to the point of this post today...
Due to a high turn out in class and an otherwise packed gym, I had a choice:
Go down from my usual 26 pound kettle bells to, say, 18 pounders, or try my hand at the 35ers. And not for single kettle bell swings, but for double kettle bell swings with a clean lift (I'm pretty sure that's what it is) directly after. Then a burpie. 30 times.
In a fit of 80's-music inspired audacity, I chose the 35ers. Those rep's may not have looked "World's Strongest Man Competition" worthy, but I kicked those kettle bells' ass like I would never have dreamed I would have 4 months ago. With my favorite colleague/workout buddy encouraging me on, I did the dang thing. I'm not saying many in my class aren't stronger than me, because they certainly are, but it felt damn good to take on a challenge like that and live to tell about it. (Not to mention not dropping those frickin' heifers on my foot!)
So thanks for letting me share my gymspiration with you.
If you're in for a challenge and want to be fit instead of wishing you were, check out Coach T at Innovative Strength and Conditioning. You'll be glad you did.
http://www.tsingleton-fitness.com/
Over the last, eh, four months, I've been enduring thrice-weekly butt kickings at an awesome gym in midtown.
Not one of those "ten minutes on the treadmill and then wander around the gym for ten minutes" kind of places.
It's a "pull 150 pounds on a sled around with a rope tied around your waist" kind of place. In the cold. Up hills.
It's an "add more weight and push yourself to the max" kind of place.
It's also a place of great commaraderie and motivation. Our team encourages each other to go beyond what each other thinks they can do and go further each time. Even on the days when you'd rather go home and sit on the couch after a long day, you feel like a rockstar at the end of that hour because that ass kicking was such a better idea.
I feel awesome. It's not from becoming "skinny," I realize that's just not me. It's from feeling fit, in charge of my body and healthier than I've been since the throngs of the high school soccer days. Hell, I've even caught myself (multiple times!) skipping cocktail hour with my besties in order to do pause squats and kettle bell snatches.
Which brings me to the point of this post today...
Due to a high turn out in class and an otherwise packed gym, I had a choice:
Go down from my usual 26 pound kettle bells to, say, 18 pounders, or try my hand at the 35ers. And not for single kettle bell swings, but for double kettle bell swings with a clean lift (I'm pretty sure that's what it is) directly after. Then a burpie. 30 times.
In a fit of 80's-music inspired audacity, I chose the 35ers. Those rep's may not have looked "World's Strongest Man Competition" worthy, but I kicked those kettle bells' ass like I would never have dreamed I would have 4 months ago. With my favorite colleague/workout buddy encouraging me on, I did the dang thing. I'm not saying many in my class aren't stronger than me, because they certainly are, but it felt damn good to take on a challenge like that and live to tell about it. (Not to mention not dropping those frickin' heifers on my foot!)
So thanks for letting me share my gymspiration with you.
If you're in for a challenge and want to be fit instead of wishing you were, check out Coach T at Innovative Strength and Conditioning. You'll be glad you did.
http://www.tsingleton-fitness.com/
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Mama Love
I'm lucky.
I was born to a mom who, even through a last minute C-Section, loved me. Even through my tom-boy ways, my aversion to shopping ('but honey, this would look cute, if you just tried it on...') and my disinterest with children ('but Chels, Raina is just so cute... You have to see her and you'll want one...') my mama still loves me. Even with my strong Papa's Girl ways, she put up with my 'always on dad's side' opinion.
Normally, the next step in a daughter's life is having a child for your mom and dad to dote on. In my case, I'm just not that into it. That's a big thing for a mom to accept.
My mom, in a word, is amazing.
But my Mama Love doesn't stop there.
I am lucky enough (I'm not sure 'lucky' precisely explains my fortune) to have a Mama 2. My Mama 2 just celebrated a birthday milestone. She successfully raised THREE boys (I know how hard it is to have ONE brother, let alone THREE Boys).
Just yesterday, we partied down for Mama 2's big Five-Oh!
A woman who is perpetually young at heart, fabulous in spirit and caring in action, finally had a party in her honor. I told you how I was lucky enough to have a fantastic mom, I am doubly lucky to have a Mama 2 that cares about me and will help me find my way, no matter what.
My mom and I have had to work through things nobody should.
Losing a father is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. (Even GDub. For reals.)
My mom and I tried to find our way and my Mama 2 was there; through the tears, the hurt and the pain. She lost her dad at too young, and even through a sadness that never fades, she was able to focus on my mom and I and help us try to navigate the maze that is loss. Even on that cliche day, when heads are shaved, Mama 2 was there, trying to comfort us even though we knew it might be the beginning of the end.
So through our loss, we became closer. We had each other. And we still do. And my Mama Love doesn't end there.
Today, we celebrated Mama Shupe's big 5-5. I picked a man who has a mom that not only survived bringing up boys (big bro Shupe pushing middle bro Shupe off the deck, middle bro Shupe having his arm ripped off in wrestling, little bro Shupe coming as a surprise 13 years later), but is so sweet, she always thinks about you before she thinks about herself. With our wine today, I realized how fortunate I am to know another strong, capable, caring woman.
That's not it for the Mama Love....
Last night, I had many of my most influencial ladies in tow.
Ms. Coralene, who I've shared many special glasses of champagne with and learned what it's like to really care about those you love, including our furry friends.
Ms. Debbie, who has been tough enough to raise two wild boys and one fabulous girl, and put up with a super-fun husband and not lost her spunk.
Ms. Di, who has been a bright light on every Jeep trip I've been lucky enough to go on.
Ms. Janet, who shows me that even when you're staring down 50 and single, your fabulousness can catch you a great guy and a wonderful, fun, exciting life, with no regrets.
Ms. Beckie, who puts up with my mom's theft of her husband for household chores at the Hillsdale Irvine Casa.
And the impressive female idol-hood I experience doesn't end there.
My boss is lucky enough to have one of the most caring, sincere, fun, loving and compassionate wives I know. Their son, Jack Man, is one of the few little ones that I hang out with that makes me actually think about having one of my own.
Ally, who I was fortunate enough to know through Shupie, is the epitome of what a mother should be. Surprised with twins, she has taken motherhood in stride and raised a pair of beautiful, well-behaved, fun and adventurous children that would make any parents envious.
Not to mention that Shupe has a brother and sister-in-law that have two great girls, yet still have their own lives. Amy, I must know how you do it.
I know there are many that I missed, but I feel like I got my point across. It's not my thing, but don't let that fool you into thinking I'm not impressed, Moms. Your job is hard. Your job is trying. Your job is 24/7. You job never ends.
I. Am. In. Aww.
I was born to a mom who, even through a last minute C-Section, loved me. Even through my tom-boy ways, my aversion to shopping ('but honey, this would look cute, if you just tried it on...') and my disinterest with children ('but Chels, Raina is just so cute... You have to see her and you'll want one...') my mama still loves me. Even with my strong Papa's Girl ways, she put up with my 'always on dad's side' opinion.
Normally, the next step in a daughter's life is having a child for your mom and dad to dote on. In my case, I'm just not that into it. That's a big thing for a mom to accept.
My mom, in a word, is amazing.
But my Mama Love doesn't stop there.
I am lucky enough (I'm not sure 'lucky' precisely explains my fortune) to have a Mama 2. My Mama 2 just celebrated a birthday milestone. She successfully raised THREE boys (I know how hard it is to have ONE brother, let alone THREE Boys).
Just yesterday, we partied down for Mama 2's big Five-Oh!
A woman who is perpetually young at heart, fabulous in spirit and caring in action, finally had a party in her honor. I told you how I was lucky enough to have a fantastic mom, I am doubly lucky to have a Mama 2 that cares about me and will help me find my way, no matter what.
My mom and I have had to work through things nobody should.
Losing a father is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. (Even GDub. For reals.)
My mom and I tried to find our way and my Mama 2 was there; through the tears, the hurt and the pain. She lost her dad at too young, and even through a sadness that never fades, she was able to focus on my mom and I and help us try to navigate the maze that is loss. Even on that cliche day, when heads are shaved, Mama 2 was there, trying to comfort us even though we knew it might be the beginning of the end.
So through our loss, we became closer. We had each other. And we still do. And my Mama Love doesn't end there.
Today, we celebrated Mama Shupe's big 5-5. I picked a man who has a mom that not only survived bringing up boys (big bro Shupe pushing middle bro Shupe off the deck, middle bro Shupe having his arm ripped off in wrestling, little bro Shupe coming as a surprise 13 years later), but is so sweet, she always thinks about you before she thinks about herself. With our wine today, I realized how fortunate I am to know another strong, capable, caring woman.
That's not it for the Mama Love....
Last night, I had many of my most influencial ladies in tow.
Ms. Coralene, who I've shared many special glasses of champagne with and learned what it's like to really care about those you love, including our furry friends.
Ms. Debbie, who has been tough enough to raise two wild boys and one fabulous girl, and put up with a super-fun husband and not lost her spunk.
Ms. Di, who has been a bright light on every Jeep trip I've been lucky enough to go on.
Ms. Janet, who shows me that even when you're staring down 50 and single, your fabulousness can catch you a great guy and a wonderful, fun, exciting life, with no regrets.
Ms. Beckie, who puts up with my mom's theft of her husband for household chores at the Hillsdale Irvine Casa.
And the impressive female idol-hood I experience doesn't end there.
My boss is lucky enough to have one of the most caring, sincere, fun, loving and compassionate wives I know. Their son, Jack Man, is one of the few little ones that I hang out with that makes me actually think about having one of my own.
Ally, who I was fortunate enough to know through Shupie, is the epitome of what a mother should be. Surprised with twins, she has taken motherhood in stride and raised a pair of beautiful, well-behaved, fun and adventurous children that would make any parents envious.
Not to mention that Shupe has a brother and sister-in-law that have two great girls, yet still have their own lives. Amy, I must know how you do it.
I know there are many that I missed, but I feel like I got my point across. It's not my thing, but don't let that fool you into thinking I'm not impressed, Moms. Your job is hard. Your job is trying. Your job is 24/7. You job never ends.
I. Am. In. Aww.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Sparkle
I don't think about my jewelry much. I'm not a big jewel fan and I don't wear diamonds. Thinking of bling doesn't cross my mind often. But when a fellow blogonista tweeted about a week-long "right hand ring" guest blogger idea, I thought, "well, I guess maybe I could share my story, it might be a bit different from the other stories she will collect." So here we are.
As I said, I'm not that into jewelry. I've always had moral issues with diamonds, no matter how much progress they make in the Kimberly Process. (Google it.)
I had pierced ears when I was in elementary school, but those subsequently closed after years of non-wear. I didn't re-pierce them until my early 20's, when I received a fabulous pair of pearl earrings as a gift from a colleague.
However, there is one piece of jewelry that I covet more than anything. I fear for the day I might look down and not see it.
Here's a little background...
My dad was diagnosed with "The Big Casino" (thank you, Sopranos, for a way to say it without saying it) in January of 2006. They gave him six months. We only got almost four. Fortunately, I was able to quit my job and stay home with him during that time.
My dad and I were close. He was my best buddy, my biggest inspiration, my biggest fan and my biggest critic. What he thought mattered more than anything else. We would sit at Barnes and Noble and read books all afternoon (after I bought him a cup of coffee, of course), we would go Jeeping, hiking, play tennis and have fun parties with friends. He introduced me to wine (at a bit of an early age - don't tell CPS) and he introduced me to politics, which has become my career and my passion.
So, when he was diagnosed with late-stage esophogeal cancer, it was extremely hard on me, my mom and my brother. But we did what we could for as long as we had.
The last gift he and my mom gave me, for my 23rd birthday, was a blue topaz ring. Not my birthstone, this stone shines more brightly and beautifully than any aquamarine ever could.
It was one month before we lost him that I received my ring.
It never leaves my right finger. It goes with me to the gym, helps me with yard work, plays soccer with me, goes to the office and comes wine tasting with me. I wear it at times I probably shouldn't. I can count the number of times I've been without it on less than one hand. I feel more than naked when that happens. When I look at it, I remember where it came from and what is really important. It's not just some pretty ring. It's a reminder of what was, what is and what can be. No ring on my left hand will ever mean as much as this ring on my right hand.
I still miss my pops more than words can say. But at least I have something, so close to my heart, that can remind me of the wonderful person I was lucky enough to call my dad.
<3
As I said, I'm not that into jewelry. I've always had moral issues with diamonds, no matter how much progress they make in the Kimberly Process. (Google it.)
I had pierced ears when I was in elementary school, but those subsequently closed after years of non-wear. I didn't re-pierce them until my early 20's, when I received a fabulous pair of pearl earrings as a gift from a colleague.
However, there is one piece of jewelry that I covet more than anything. I fear for the day I might look down and not see it.
Here's a little background...
My dad was diagnosed with "The Big Casino" (thank you, Sopranos, for a way to say it without saying it) in January of 2006. They gave him six months. We only got almost four. Fortunately, I was able to quit my job and stay home with him during that time.
My dad and I were close. He was my best buddy, my biggest inspiration, my biggest fan and my biggest critic. What he thought mattered more than anything else. We would sit at Barnes and Noble and read books all afternoon (after I bought him a cup of coffee, of course), we would go Jeeping, hiking, play tennis and have fun parties with friends. He introduced me to wine (at a bit of an early age - don't tell CPS) and he introduced me to politics, which has become my career and my passion.
So, when he was diagnosed with late-stage esophogeal cancer, it was extremely hard on me, my mom and my brother. But we did what we could for as long as we had.
The last gift he and my mom gave me, for my 23rd birthday, was a blue topaz ring. Not my birthstone, this stone shines more brightly and beautifully than any aquamarine ever could.
It was one month before we lost him that I received my ring.
It never leaves my right finger. It goes with me to the gym, helps me with yard work, plays soccer with me, goes to the office and comes wine tasting with me. I wear it at times I probably shouldn't. I can count the number of times I've been without it on less than one hand. I feel more than naked when that happens. When I look at it, I remember where it came from and what is really important. It's not just some pretty ring. It's a reminder of what was, what is and what can be. No ring on my left hand will ever mean as much as this ring on my right hand.
I still miss my pops more than words can say. But at least I have something, so close to my heart, that can remind me of the wonderful person I was lucky enough to call my dad.
<3
(Pardon the man hands... Nobody ever accused me of being a hand model.)
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Surprise. . .
About six months ago, we got a new family member. Sincere apologies for the late announcement; obviously my maternal instincts only go as far as the dogs.
Our newest addition is a turtle. My brother works for a pool cleaning company and he found our poor turtle stuck in a pool filter. She's a rescue turtle.
Her name is Toby Lorretta and she is a lovely little turtle. Her name was originally Toby Leroy, but after doing a little turtle research, we discovered our he turtle was a she turtle. Whoops.
Anyway, the turtle gets along just grandly with our new fish in the fishtank. On top of that, Rocco has an unnatural fascination with the turtle and the tank. He will sit for an hour and keep watch over the fishies and Toby. No joke.
Anyway, I only bring this up because something else happened, just last week.
I saw Shupe digging in our backyard (nothing new). When I asked what he was doing, he said our main plumbing line was having issues and he was digging it up. Although it was probably two feet over from where the line was the last time we had to dig it up (gross, I know), I figured oh well, whatev.
Later that evening, after finishing one fabulous bottle of wine, I look over at Shupe and he has one of those grins on his face that just screams "I did something bad."
So I ask Shupe what's with the look and he says, bashfully, "Toby is getting a new house."
I say, "Umm, excuse me?"
"Don't you think he needs a bigger house? I'm building him a pond."
"Ummmmm... A pond? The pond I told you a million times I don't want? That kind of pond?"
"Yes." (sheepishly)
So, there you have it. Toby Lorretta gets a pond and I get heartburn over my fear of the onslaught of bugs that will follow. How can you have a pond without bugs? Isn't that why vector control asks you to clear standing water?
Oh, and don't get me started about the creepy fish that will also be in the pond. I mean, those fish are just weird.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Sweat Equity
Ok, before I begin, let me just say that I only brag because I know most of you have been there since the beginning of this little bloggie. We came into this project with a big hopes, huge dreams, a little money and nothing but time. The experience of the last year and a half has been incredible. Ups, downs, elation, heartbreak and everything in between.
After 6 months of waiting for a crazy short sale loan from hell to close, 3 months of hard, hard, hard work, and 9 months of getting settled, Shupasaurus and I are officially at home in our home. We love it. We hang at home, because our home is awesome. It's ours. We did it. With a lot of help from those we love, of course. But it is everything we wanted and more. And do you want to know what the best part of the "more" is? Wait for it... Wait for it...
In the last month, I have been in the process of taking advantage of this whacked out economy and the low low interest rates available by trying to refi the Speakeasy. Rates are about a percent lower these days (especially since I got the crapiest loan ever since the house was the crapiest house ever- we just said thanks to the bank and insurance company willing to put their neck out for such a pile of bat guano).
So, we are trying the refi and seeing where we land. So far, things look good.
But the point of my story is that, after owning our home for just over one year (we closed mid-July and it is the end of September), we have... Drum roll... Over 25% equity. Our hard work has paid off, hugely. In this flailing (to put it nicely) housing market, we have managed the impossible: GAINING value. As homeowners are seeing negative equity of $100k+, we have over $50k on our side.
So thank you, to everyone who helped us accomplish this feat. I am so proud to have a real "investment" and something that I'm not only proud to call home, but something that I know I will own for the rest of my life and never have to worry about anymore heartache.
Now, who's ready to buy the next shack with us?!?!?!?! :)
After 6 months of waiting for a crazy short sale loan from hell to close, 3 months of hard, hard, hard work, and 9 months of getting settled, Shupasaurus and I are officially at home in our home. We love it. We hang at home, because our home is awesome. It's ours. We did it. With a lot of help from those we love, of course. But it is everything we wanted and more. And do you want to know what the best part of the "more" is? Wait for it... Wait for it...
In the last month, I have been in the process of taking advantage of this whacked out economy and the low low interest rates available by trying to refi the Speakeasy. Rates are about a percent lower these days (especially since I got the crapiest loan ever since the house was the crapiest house ever- we just said thanks to the bank and insurance company willing to put their neck out for such a pile of bat guano).
So, we are trying the refi and seeing where we land. So far, things look good.
But the point of my story is that, after owning our home for just over one year (we closed mid-July and it is the end of September), we have... Drum roll... Over 25% equity. Our hard work has paid off, hugely. In this flailing (to put it nicely) housing market, we have managed the impossible: GAINING value. As homeowners are seeing negative equity of $100k+, we have over $50k on our side.
So thank you, to everyone who helped us accomplish this feat. I am so proud to have a real "investment" and something that I'm not only proud to call home, but something that I know I will own for the rest of my life and never have to worry about anymore heartache.
Now, who's ready to buy the next shack with us?!?!?!?! :)
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Three Things
Today was one of those days. You know, those days when it takes a little extra to put on a happy face. Those days when, for some reason, you just feel in a funk. And I know I have nothing to complain about. I am more fortunate than I can say, but for some reason today felt so blah that I sat in my little cubbie at work, just typing reports, sending letters and moping to myself.
In my travels on the World Wide (as Nichole would call it), I stumbled on a lovely little blog by a woman I don't even know. Her post on her new garden caught my attention and the fact that she barely posts more than me made me bond immediately. ;)
As I looked at the first few posts, hoping not to waste too many workday hours, I found this one:
//persnicketysummer.blogspot.com/2011/01/three-things.html
In my travels on the World Wide (as Nichole would call it), I stumbled on a lovely little blog by a woman I don't even know. Her post on her new garden caught my attention and the fact that she barely posts more than me made me bond immediately. ;)
As I looked at the first few posts, hoping not to waste too many workday hours, I found this one:
//persnicketysummer.blogspot.com/2011/01/three-things.html
In college, when she felt blah, her roommate would go, "Quick, three things!" And she would rattle off three things she was thankful for right at that moment.
Wow. An epiphany. We have so much to be thankful for, we sometimes lose sight. Perhaps, if every morning (or afternoon, or evening) we took five minutes out to remind ourselves of three things that we are happy about, we will forget those things we don't like so much. I think the idea is grand. And I'm going to start reminding myself of those three things. Everyday. Starting today.
And just so you get to be witness to the beginning of this little self pact, here are my first three things I am greatful for:
1. Having two sweet boys who sit with me in the morning while I try to do something with my "flock of seaguls" hair. (Thanks, Shupe, for the lovely adjective.)
2. Having a job that challenges me, helps me grow as a person, let's me have a little fun during my workdays and allows me to be myself.
3. Living in a place where I'm allowed to live how I want, without limits and without being scared of what's around the corner.
Now, before I have any "What about me?!" comments (not that you would say that, mom), this is just the start. I have MUCH more that I stoked about. This is only day one.
What are your three things?
Friday, July 15, 2011
What a difference a year makes.....
Hi all! Sorry for the extended blogging break. We had a whirlwind of weddings and birthdays and busy work weeks, so I have been totally blog-slacking lately.
But today is a big day at the Discoball Speakeasy... One year ago today we got the keys! I was so happy to have my very first house, even if it was a wreck. After six months of shortsale ups and downs, heartbreaks, headaches and tears, we finally put that loan to bed and got started on what would be a year of home improvements that would give any HGTV show a run for its money.
We are very fortunate to have had some great support along the way. Shupasaurus and I are lucky to have such great family and friends. His mom and dad were amazing, as were my brother and many of my friends. My mom and dad 2 came through in a big way by transforming my kitchen into a beautiful space, which I think would easily win any kitchen makeover competition.
Most of all, I thank my mom for being there for me and helping my shack dreams come true.
I am in love with my house. No, I mean, I am in love with my HOME. It is truly a place where friends and family gather and great memories are made. I cannot imagine a better place to be. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. I love you guys.
And now for a trip down memory lane...
But today is a big day at the Discoball Speakeasy... One year ago today we got the keys! I was so happy to have my very first house, even if it was a wreck. After six months of shortsale ups and downs, heartbreaks, headaches and tears, we finally put that loan to bed and got started on what would be a year of home improvements that would give any HGTV show a run for its money.
We are very fortunate to have had some great support along the way. Shupasaurus and I are lucky to have such great family and friends. His mom and dad were amazing, as were my brother and many of my friends. My mom and dad 2 came through in a big way by transforming my kitchen into a beautiful space, which I think would easily win any kitchen makeover competition.
Most of all, I thank my mom for being there for me and helping my shack dreams come true.
I am in love with my house. No, I mean, I am in love with my HOME. It is truly a place where friends and family gather and great memories are made. I cannot imagine a better place to be. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. I love you guys.
And now for a trip down memory lane...
The old front
The new front
Old dining room
New dining room
Old kitchen
More old kitchen
New kitchen (No, we do not have a giant discoball in the kitchen, I was just holding up a discoball Christmas ornament.) :)
Old backyard
More old backyard
New backyard (although we have done more work, I just don't have a current picture!)
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Rain, rain, go away.....
It's been raining in Sacramento. A lot. Way more than it should in June. The kind of rain where you look outside and think, "Is it January?" It's June. For reals. Almost July.
They say that Memorial Day is the unofficial start to summer. If that's the case, I think that I am going to have to give Punxatawny Phil or whatever his name is a call and as for a re-do in the groundhog weather prediction department.
And this weather has a weird affect on people. It brings out people's inner gloom. People have a harder time perking up. People get lazy. People have a hard time finding motivation to get out of the house. Oh, and by people, I mean me.
It's not that I really mind the rain. I actually like the sound of rain on the roof. I like that I don't have to water the garden. I appreciate the fresh rain smell. But I have a Jew fro hidden underneath this perfectly flatironed coif. There is a wild tiger's mane hiding underneath those straight strands. And for years I have fought this jew from with every ounce of my hair stylist might. But two drops of rain and I have people asking what the cat drug in.
And that's not the only thing. It's also very near swimsuit season. And I hate to say that I already have a lack of motivation in the workout department, which is only exacerbated by craptastic weather.
Sitting at home and reading a book with a nice hot cup of tea is #1 on m rainy day activity list. (Ok, ok, it might be a glass of bubbly or cheap light beer some of the time, but I digress.)
Anyway, I'm going to continue to plead with the weather gods for a perk up. I hope you will, too. Until then, I'm going to sit around and see what else I can find in the cabinets to munch on. Here's hoping the crash workout plan will work next week, as I scramble to find a dress to wear to these weddings that doesn't make me resemble the white version of C-Lo.
Ting ting.
They say that Memorial Day is the unofficial start to summer. If that's the case, I think that I am going to have to give Punxatawny Phil or whatever his name is a call and as for a re-do in the groundhog weather prediction department.
And this weather has a weird affect on people. It brings out people's inner gloom. People have a harder time perking up. People get lazy. People have a hard time finding motivation to get out of the house. Oh, and by people, I mean me.
It's not that I really mind the rain. I actually like the sound of rain on the roof. I like that I don't have to water the garden. I appreciate the fresh rain smell. But I have a Jew fro hidden underneath this perfectly flatironed coif. There is a wild tiger's mane hiding underneath those straight strands. And for years I have fought this jew from with every ounce of my hair stylist might. But two drops of rain and I have people asking what the cat drug in.
And that's not the only thing. It's also very near swimsuit season. And I hate to say that I already have a lack of motivation in the workout department, which is only exacerbated by craptastic weather.
Sitting at home and reading a book with a nice hot cup of tea is #1 on m rainy day activity list. (Ok, ok, it might be a glass of bubbly or cheap light beer some of the time, but I digress.)
Anyway, I'm going to continue to plead with the weather gods for a perk up. I hope you will, too. Until then, I'm going to sit around and see what else I can find in the cabinets to munch on. Here's hoping the crash workout plan will work next week, as I scramble to find a dress to wear to these weddings that doesn't make me resemble the white version of C-Lo.
Ting ting.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Will Solve Clues for Diamonds
Boy, did we have a fun little adventure this weekend!
This Saturday was the third annual "Race for the Ring" in Downtown Sacramento. Shupasaurus and I were lucky enough to participate as "Team News n Review," courtesy of one of my BFF's who puts together events for SN&R.
This was our first year to participate and we had a blast!
The race benefits the Sacramento Food Bank and Family Services, which recently had to overcome a huge fire at their facility. The event expected to bring in approximately $20,000 for the food bank. One of the major sponsors was Rogers Jewelers, which donated much of the $35,000 worth of prizes, including a huge diamond ring worth over $8,000. The prize the really had my eye was the baby blue beach cruiser, donated courtesy of a midtown vintage bike shop.
Over 600 teams participated this year and the event was a blast. We zipped off from Raley Field at 10:30 and spent the next two hours biking from one Sacramento landmark to the next, answering questions and solving riddles.
We trekked around to 25 different places, including the State Capitol, where our clue was, "Sacramento Panera Breads have been partnering with the Food Bank for 3 years. Find SCVNGR's Amanda infront of the Capitol and ask her the name of this campaign."
This Saturday was the third annual "Race for the Ring" in Downtown Sacramento. Shupasaurus and I were lucky enough to participate as "Team News n Review," courtesy of one of my BFF's who puts together events for SN&R.
This was our first year to participate and we had a blast!
Shupasaurus and I, Team News n Review
The race benefits the Sacramento Food Bank and Family Services, which recently had to overcome a huge fire at their facility. The event expected to bring in approximately $20,000 for the food bank. One of the major sponsors was Rogers Jewelers, which donated much of the $35,000 worth of prizes, including a huge diamond ring worth over $8,000. The prize the really had my eye was the baby blue beach cruiser, donated courtesy of a midtown vintage bike shop.
BFF Kev and I
Over 600 teams participated this year and the event was a blast. We zipped off from Raley Field at 10:30 and spent the next two hours biking from one Sacramento landmark to the next, answering questions and solving riddles.
Mayor Johnson was in attendance to do the race countdown
We trekked around to 25 different places, including the State Capitol, where our clue was, "Sacramento Panera Breads have been partnering with the Food Bank for 3 years. Find SCVNGR's Amanda infront of the Capitol and ask her the name of this campaign."
Of course, this has us and our fellow Race for the Ringers wandering the Capitol lawn asking quizzically, "Amanda? Amanda? Are you Amanda?"
After a couple hours of biking around beautiful Downtown Sacramento, we headed back with our score of 73, in the hopes that we beat the pants off of the competition. The after party at Raley Field was rockin', complete with a super fun cover band, awesome grub and ice cold brewskis!
However, I am sad to report that Shupasaurus and I did not bring home the big prize. As a matter of fact, we were all but SMOKED by the competition, with the winning team racking up an impressive 112 points.
Amanda!
After a couple hours of biking around beautiful Downtown Sacramento, we headed back with our score of 73, in the hopes that we beat the pants off of the competition. The after party at Raley Field was rockin', complete with a super fun cover band, awesome grub and ice cold brewskis!
Raley Field After Party
However, I am sad to report that Shupasaurus and I did not bring home the big prize. As a matter of fact, we were all but SMOKED by the competition, with the winning team racking up an impressive 112 points.
Although, we did spend the rest of the afternoon brainstorming ideas for improving our game next year, and we are looking forward to regaining our good name. :)
The shame of losing was nothing a few rounds of cheap beer couldn't wash away
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Euro Trip 2012... The Beginning.
Five years ago this August/September, I travelled Europe with one of my best girlfriends. Though we hadn't seen each other for probably a year (after she ditched CA for a gig in Germany), I hopped a plane and reunited with her at the airport.
We travelled for just about a month, hitting Weisbaden (Germany), Milan, Barcelona, London, Paris, Amsterdam and Crete (Greece). It was the most fun month I have ever had in my entire life. And it came at the perfect time, when I was trying to remind myself why I wanted to keep going after the most painful event I would ever go through (losing my dad).
The trip taught me that not only is there an entire world out there, waiting to be explored, but there is a world full of wonderful people that are all waiting to meet you.
We travelled at a time when rumors of worldwide anti-Americanism were rampant. Thanks to my buddy GDub, we had successfully bullied our way to pissing off most of the globe. I was warned by numerous friends and family before my travels that I would be getting many the stink-eye from my European counterparts.
It was much to the contrary. We were welcomed, with open arms, by nearly everyone. Perhaps they found me more interesting because I was travelling with a beautiful Korean woman and it threw them off. Or perhaps it was because of the "IMPEACH BUSH" pin I wore proudly on my travel backpack. Whatever the reason, we were anything but shunned. (Heck, we even had this experience: while sitting at a little streetside cafe in Paris-which is notorious for snobs-a beautiful Parisian woman walking by stopped at the window we were sitting next to, looked at me and said, "You are a very beautiful woman." I don't think that has EVER happen in Cali.)
Anyway, the point of my rambling is this: It has been five years. It is time for a redo. It is GOING TO HAPPEN in the summer of 2012.
I know the more you talk about it happening, the more likely it will happen. The more you dream it, the more you will do it. So this is my commitment... No matter how much more money goes into the Shack, I will put away enough to make my Euro dream come true. Hopefully I can talk my fabulous Korean BFF to come with me, and I know a few others that have shared their interest in the trip.
So, let's throw some dollars in a jar, start the planning, and show those Euro's what CA has to offer!
We travelled for just about a month, hitting Weisbaden (Germany), Milan, Barcelona, London, Paris, Amsterdam and Crete (Greece). It was the most fun month I have ever had in my entire life. And it came at the perfect time, when I was trying to remind myself why I wanted to keep going after the most painful event I would ever go through (losing my dad).
The trip taught me that not only is there an entire world out there, waiting to be explored, but there is a world full of wonderful people that are all waiting to meet you.
We travelled at a time when rumors of worldwide anti-Americanism were rampant. Thanks to my buddy GDub, we had successfully bullied our way to pissing off most of the globe. I was warned by numerous friends and family before my travels that I would be getting many the stink-eye from my European counterparts.
It was much to the contrary. We were welcomed, with open arms, by nearly everyone. Perhaps they found me more interesting because I was travelling with a beautiful Korean woman and it threw them off. Or perhaps it was because of the "IMPEACH BUSH" pin I wore proudly on my travel backpack. Whatever the reason, we were anything but shunned. (Heck, we even had this experience: while sitting at a little streetside cafe in Paris-which is notorious for snobs-a beautiful Parisian woman walking by stopped at the window we were sitting next to, looked at me and said, "You are a very beautiful woman." I don't think that has EVER happen in Cali.)
Anyway, the point of my rambling is this: It has been five years. It is time for a redo. It is GOING TO HAPPEN in the summer of 2012.
I know the more you talk about it happening, the more likely it will happen. The more you dream it, the more you will do it. So this is my commitment... No matter how much more money goes into the Shack, I will put away enough to make my Euro dream come true. Hopefully I can talk my fabulous Korean BFF to come with me, and I know a few others that have shared their interest in the trip.
So, let's throw some dollars in a jar, start the planning, and show those Euro's what CA has to offer!
Sunday, May 15, 2011
A call to my neighbors...
Over the past weeks, I was privileged enough to participate in events celebrating the men and women who are out in our communities, everyday, keeping us safe.
While I enjoyed the camaraderie, it is disheartening that we must gather each year at the California Peace Officers’ Memorial Ceremony in memory of law enforcement members whose lives were taken much too soon.
This year, we honored the lives of eleven officers who unknowingly went to work one day and never returned home. These officers were making routine traffic stops, serving warrants and helping stranded motorists. They were doing their job, protecting our families, keeping our roads safe and enforcing the laws that ensure our state can operate.
As we witnessed the families, one by one, placing a rose on the monument in honor of their lost loved one, we were reminded of the true nature of a peace officer’s job.
I am fortunate enough to work closely with the Peace Officers Research Association of California (PORAC), the largest statewide association of public safety members in the nation. These are 62,000 of the men and women who work to protect us on a daily basis. I have learned, though our work together, just how important it is to have a functioning public safety network. Without these brave men and women, who we often take for granted, we could not live the lives we do. Of course, many of us bemoan about the unfortunate instances of being pulled over or getting into trouble, but the truth is that these officers work, selflessly, for you and me, everyday.
While you and I go through our daily routines, it usually never crosses our minds; the fact that we are able to live our lives without fear. The fact that there are perfect strangers out there keeping an eye on us. The fact that, in the unfortunate circumstance that we have an emergency, we can pick up the phone and call for help. This week, these facts were front and center.
Many of us recently read about the possible cuts facing Sacramento’s police force. As a lifetime resident of Sacramento, this scares me. I take comfort in knowing that if I need help, I can count on someone to be there. I feel safe knowing that I am a phone call away from assistance, if I need it. The threat of dozens of police layoffs is simply unacceptable.
Two weeks ago, law enforcement officers from throughout the state hit the halls of the State Capitol to urge lawmakers to continue to fund critical public safety programs. Although it is hard to believe that policymakers would even fathom putting our safety in jeopardy as part of political games, this is a harsh truth. I understand; times are tough. We must all do what we can to tighten our belts, but we must take care to pay attention to cuts that would endanger our families. Officers face layoffs, patrol cuts, the elimination of community policing and departments specifically tasked with taking control of the growing meth problem in our state, among other things. We need officers on the streets. It is not fair to play games with the safety of our communities.
Months ago, like many of my friends and family, I didn’t pay attention. But now I recognize the necessity of public safety and the absolute risk officers take daily, for my loved ones and me.
I urge my community members to come together to find solutions to California’s budget issues without sacrificing the safety we take for granted. Putting our safety on the line is not the answer. The danger on our streets is real, as we saw the last week when the families of our fallen heroes mourned the loss of eleven lives. We can work together to be part of the solution.
While I enjoyed the camaraderie, it is disheartening that we must gather each year at the California Peace Officers’ Memorial Ceremony in memory of law enforcement members whose lives were taken much too soon.
This year, we honored the lives of eleven officers who unknowingly went to work one day and never returned home. These officers were making routine traffic stops, serving warrants and helping stranded motorists. They were doing their job, protecting our families, keeping our roads safe and enforcing the laws that ensure our state can operate.
As we witnessed the families, one by one, placing a rose on the monument in honor of their lost loved one, we were reminded of the true nature of a peace officer’s job.
I am fortunate enough to work closely with the Peace Officers Research Association of California (PORAC), the largest statewide association of public safety members in the nation. These are 62,000 of the men and women who work to protect us on a daily basis. I have learned, though our work together, just how important it is to have a functioning public safety network. Without these brave men and women, who we often take for granted, we could not live the lives we do. Of course, many of us bemoan about the unfortunate instances of being pulled over or getting into trouble, but the truth is that these officers work, selflessly, for you and me, everyday.
While you and I go through our daily routines, it usually never crosses our minds; the fact that we are able to live our lives without fear. The fact that there are perfect strangers out there keeping an eye on us. The fact that, in the unfortunate circumstance that we have an emergency, we can pick up the phone and call for help. This week, these facts were front and center.
Many of us recently read about the possible cuts facing Sacramento’s police force. As a lifetime resident of Sacramento, this scares me. I take comfort in knowing that if I need help, I can count on someone to be there. I feel safe knowing that I am a phone call away from assistance, if I need it. The threat of dozens of police layoffs is simply unacceptable.
Two weeks ago, law enforcement officers from throughout the state hit the halls of the State Capitol to urge lawmakers to continue to fund critical public safety programs. Although it is hard to believe that policymakers would even fathom putting our safety in jeopardy as part of political games, this is a harsh truth. I understand; times are tough. We must all do what we can to tighten our belts, but we must take care to pay attention to cuts that would endanger our families. Officers face layoffs, patrol cuts, the elimination of community policing and departments specifically tasked with taking control of the growing meth problem in our state, among other things. We need officers on the streets. It is not fair to play games with the safety of our communities.
Months ago, like many of my friends and family, I didn’t pay attention. But now I recognize the necessity of public safety and the absolute risk officers take daily, for my loved ones and me.
I urge my community members to come together to find solutions to California’s budget issues without sacrificing the safety we take for granted. Putting our safety on the line is not the answer. The danger on our streets is real, as we saw the last week when the families of our fallen heroes mourned the loss of eleven lives. We can work together to be part of the solution.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
I do!
Over this past weekend, I was lucky enough to attend a beautiful afternoon bridal shower for a couple of my best girlfriends. Their wedding is next month and I couldn't be more excited to celebrate their love for one another. And before we do that, there is a bachelorette bonanza weekend ahead of us that is sure to be a party to remember.
All of this wedding talk has really gotten me thinking about, well, weddings.
I have been a long time believer in the "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" mentality, Hence the boyfriend (not husband) of 4+ years. However, as we get older (well, he can be considered "old" at the ripe age of 32, while I am still considered "just a kid" at 28. Right?) the pressure to take the plunge has increased exponentially.
I am ambivalent about marriage for many reasons. First (again) why mess with something that works? I don't feel any sort of pull to conform to what others think I "should" do. If I "should" get married, than I should be able to tell those who I think are crazy fools for getting married that they "shouldn't" get married. Trust me, I've fought that urge on a few occasions. Funny how those tables simply can't be turned. (To any of my friends who read this - I am definitely not talking about you, of course.)
Next is the fact that it is so sublimely unfair that I should be able to marry a Shupasaurus, when I have friends who cannot legally marry their heart's desire, simply because of their sex. Come on, I can marry a Chris Dinosaur and a dude can't marry a dude? If only the Prop 8 people knew I found a loophole in their "next thing will be people marrying animals" theory.
Furthermore, why, when I have so many house projects, would I want to throw thousands of bucks into a one day shindig. I am more than content with having the occasional impromptu backyard gatherings celebrating my life, my Shupe and my fabulous friends. Hell, I spend enough already trying to keep that damn wine fridge stocked! (Ok, it's mostly my fault that it is looking so sad, but I digress.)
Oh, and there's the fact that I have real moral concerns with wearing diamonds, the mainstay wedding accoutrement. I know, there are other options, but many people feel a wedding isn't a wedding without a rock. No to mention that I've put my "right hand" ring on my left hand before (by accident!) and it just feels all wrong.
Now, I ask, why the rush to the ring? I know it's the norm, but I must say I fall out of the "norm" box on a lot of my stances, this being just one.
So, even though I know there is already a pastor waiting in the wings to officiate the big day (thanks for the continuous offer, Melissa), for those of you who have been on the Shupasaurus/Chels wedding bandwagon, I respectfully request you pick another perfect couple to cheer for. I'm sure there's one out there somewhere. ;)
All of this wedding talk has really gotten me thinking about, well, weddings.
I have been a long time believer in the "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" mentality, Hence the boyfriend (not husband) of 4+ years. However, as we get older (well, he can be considered "old" at the ripe age of 32, while I am still considered "just a kid" at 28. Right?) the pressure to take the plunge has increased exponentially.
I am ambivalent about marriage for many reasons. First (again) why mess with something that works? I don't feel any sort of pull to conform to what others think I "should" do. If I "should" get married, than I should be able to tell those who I think are crazy fools for getting married that they "shouldn't" get married. Trust me, I've fought that urge on a few occasions. Funny how those tables simply can't be turned. (To any of my friends who read this - I am definitely not talking about you, of course.)
Next is the fact that it is so sublimely unfair that I should be able to marry a Shupasaurus, when I have friends who cannot legally marry their heart's desire, simply because of their sex. Come on, I can marry a Chris Dinosaur and a dude can't marry a dude? If only the Prop 8 people knew I found a loophole in their "next thing will be people marrying animals" theory.
Furthermore, why, when I have so many house projects, would I want to throw thousands of bucks into a one day shindig. I am more than content with having the occasional impromptu backyard gatherings celebrating my life, my Shupe and my fabulous friends. Hell, I spend enough already trying to keep that damn wine fridge stocked! (Ok, it's mostly my fault that it is looking so sad, but I digress.)
Oh, and there's the fact that I have real moral concerns with wearing diamonds, the mainstay wedding accoutrement. I know, there are other options, but many people feel a wedding isn't a wedding without a rock. No to mention that I've put my "right hand" ring on my left hand before (by accident!) and it just feels all wrong.
Now, I ask, why the rush to the ring? I know it's the norm, but I must say I fall out of the "norm" box on a lot of my stances, this being just one.
So, even though I know there is already a pastor waiting in the wings to officiate the big day (thanks for the continuous offer, Melissa), for those of you who have been on the Shupasaurus/Chels wedding bandwagon, I respectfully request you pick another perfect couple to cheer for. I'm sure there's one out there somewhere. ;)
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
On Friends
I apologize, dearest blog readers, for my whine-filled last post. April is a hard month for me, but that doesn't mean I need to cry to the seven of you fabulous people that read this blog. Please forgive me.
In an effort to change my whining ways and try to tough out the rest of this (horrid) month, I'm going to focus on the great things in life. To start out this positive mojo kick, I want to give a shoutout to some of the most important people in my life: my friends.
I must say, I am incredibly lucky to have a amazing group of friends. I have had some tough times over the years, but my friends have always been there for me, no matter how grumpy, sad, lonely, boring and occasionally just plain nuts I've been. My friends would show up, good wine in hand, and let me be as much of a pain as I can be.
Even as of recently, I had a pretty rough day, complete with sick puppies (no, not these guns, but an actual sick puppy), work craziness and emotional stress, and my friend didn't even hesitate to offer to ease my mind with some good wine, and even a punch in the throat to whoever it was causing me the grief. Now, that is friendship.
We have an understanding: when someone is hurting, you help. If you're hurting, you can ask for help, anytime, anyday, no matter how inconvenient.
A couple weeks ago, a friend of ours had an unexpected, sad event happen to his family. After the initial tears were shed, our friends wasted no time getting together to figure out a way to help that friend and his family in their time of need. Within 24 hours, we had collected a nice chunk of change to help them through their hard time. Even though some of us are, how do you say, "unemployed," and others of us struggle to meet mortgage and house bill demands, we put our own stuff aside and got together to help. Not just any friends would do that.
On top of all of this, my friends even still like me after all the bitching, crying and (eventually) bragging I've done about my little shack that could. And let me tell you, I've talked/whined/grumbled/shouted about that place A LOT!
Hell, they even put up with the millions of "look how cute my mangy mutts are" pictures. I'm even beginning to bug MYSELF with all those pictures.
So, to you, my friends, I say from the bottom of my heart, Thank You. Without you, I don't know where I'd be, when my next fun adventure would come, who I would turn to or who would go wine tasting with me this weekend.
I love you guys.
In an effort to change my whining ways and try to tough out the rest of this (horrid) month, I'm going to focus on the great things in life. To start out this positive mojo kick, I want to give a shoutout to some of the most important people in my life: my friends.
I must say, I am incredibly lucky to have a amazing group of friends. I have had some tough times over the years, but my friends have always been there for me, no matter how grumpy, sad, lonely, boring and occasionally just plain nuts I've been. My friends would show up, good wine in hand, and let me be as much of a pain as I can be.
Even as of recently, I had a pretty rough day, complete with sick puppies (no, not these guns, but an actual sick puppy), work craziness and emotional stress, and my friend didn't even hesitate to offer to ease my mind with some good wine, and even a punch in the throat to whoever it was causing me the grief. Now, that is friendship.
We have an understanding: when someone is hurting, you help. If you're hurting, you can ask for help, anytime, anyday, no matter how inconvenient.
A couple weeks ago, a friend of ours had an unexpected, sad event happen to his family. After the initial tears were shed, our friends wasted no time getting together to figure out a way to help that friend and his family in their time of need. Within 24 hours, we had collected a nice chunk of change to help them through their hard time. Even though some of us are, how do you say, "unemployed," and others of us struggle to meet mortgage and house bill demands, we put our own stuff aside and got together to help. Not just any friends would do that.
On top of all of this, my friends even still like me after all the bitching, crying and (eventually) bragging I've done about my little shack that could. And let me tell you, I've talked/whined/grumbled/shouted about that place A LOT!
Hell, they even put up with the millions of "look how cute my mangy mutts are" pictures. I'm even beginning to bug MYSELF with all those pictures.
So, to you, my friends, I say from the bottom of my heart, Thank You. Without you, I don't know where I'd be, when my next fun adventure would come, who I would turn to or who would go wine tasting with me this weekend.
I love you guys.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Oh, April, how I loathe thee...
Well, it's that time of year again. The dreaded April.
One would think that it would be a month full of fun, as the sun finally begins to shine and dreams of spring break dance in our heads.
But not for this gal. April has, sadly, been notorious for bad news. And it's not just for me. This month has been filled with unfortunate events, the passing of friends' loved ones and extremely random bad news. It's only the 14th and I am already wishing it was time to flip the calendar to May.
It hasn't always been this way. It is the most unfortunate anniversary that this April 30th will be five years since the last time I saw my pops. He drifted out of consciousness at our house after a tedious and heartbreaking battle with cancer. The doctors gave him six months to a year, he barely made it through four months. It is hard to fathom that it has been five years already. I still miss him as though it was yesterday. Things have gotten easier, sure, but there are so many things I wish I could share with him. I mean, I am not sure anyone would have been as proud of the home improvement project we have embarked on as he would. As friends get married and have babies, it's a pretty sad thing to know that if that happens for me, he won't be there to celebrate (or kick me down the aisle to hurry things up in the marriage department). He was always the one trying to marry me off to the first taker. Thanks, pops.
Since that dreadful day five years ago, April has proven to be a consistent bad news month.
There have been DUI's for friends, serious car accidents ending up in hospital stays, extremely scary premature births, deaths of family members and neighbors, and many other bummers.
I apologize for being such a world class bummer factory today, but I figure if you get out the bad vibes, the good vibes will move back in. I'm just hoping I can make it through the 30th without having to see a shrink. Or emptying my wine fridge.
I say we go ahead and skip right to May. Sorry, April birthdays, better luck next year.
One would think that it would be a month full of fun, as the sun finally begins to shine and dreams of spring break dance in our heads.
But not for this gal. April has, sadly, been notorious for bad news. And it's not just for me. This month has been filled with unfortunate events, the passing of friends' loved ones and extremely random bad news. It's only the 14th and I am already wishing it was time to flip the calendar to May.
It hasn't always been this way. It is the most unfortunate anniversary that this April 30th will be five years since the last time I saw my pops. He drifted out of consciousness at our house after a tedious and heartbreaking battle with cancer. The doctors gave him six months to a year, he barely made it through four months. It is hard to fathom that it has been five years already. I still miss him as though it was yesterday. Things have gotten easier, sure, but there are so many things I wish I could share with him. I mean, I am not sure anyone would have been as proud of the home improvement project we have embarked on as he would. As friends get married and have babies, it's a pretty sad thing to know that if that happens for me, he won't be there to celebrate (or kick me down the aisle to hurry things up in the marriage department). He was always the one trying to marry me off to the first taker. Thanks, pops.
Since that dreadful day five years ago, April has proven to be a consistent bad news month.
There have been DUI's for friends, serious car accidents ending up in hospital stays, extremely scary premature births, deaths of family members and neighbors, and many other bummers.
I apologize for being such a world class bummer factory today, but I figure if you get out the bad vibes, the good vibes will move back in. I'm just hoping I can make it through the 30th without having to see a shrink. Or emptying my wine fridge.
I say we go ahead and skip right to May. Sorry, April birthdays, better luck next year.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
What a difference a year makes...
I am excited to share with you all our big anniversary today...
One year ago today, I put an offer in on the Discoball Speakeasy! Only six short months after that, I had keys in my hands! And only two and a half months after that we actually moved in! It has been a long road, but I couldn't be happier with how it (eventually) turned out. I love my house. It is a shining star in my life. And I am so proud of the work that Shupasaurus and I (and our band of awesome helpers) have put into it.
As a special bonus, we had family come into town this weekend (for Mama Irvine's Big Six Oh! Birthday Bash) and get to see my house. These are the family that don't make it up to Sac often, so it was so exciting to show off my house to them and have them see, in real life, the work that we have done.
I thought, since this blog was started to share with you the trials and tribulations of homeownership, in honor of the occasion, I would show you loyal blog readers some of the before and afters of the shack. Brace yourself, you might not believe some of these...
And CHEERS TO CHANGE! Here's to moving forward and having a blast growing up.
One year ago today, I put an offer in on the Discoball Speakeasy! Only six short months after that, I had keys in my hands! And only two and a half months after that we actually moved in! It has been a long road, but I couldn't be happier with how it (eventually) turned out. I love my house. It is a shining star in my life. And I am so proud of the work that Shupasaurus and I (and our band of awesome helpers) have put into it.
As a special bonus, we had family come into town this weekend (for Mama Irvine's Big Six Oh! Birthday Bash) and get to see my house. These are the family that don't make it up to Sac often, so it was so exciting to show off my house to them and have them see, in real life, the work that we have done.
I thought, since this blog was started to share with you the trials and tribulations of homeownership, in honor of the occasion, I would show you loyal blog readers some of the before and afters of the shack. Brace yourself, you might not believe some of these...
And CHEERS TO CHANGE! Here's to moving forward and having a blast growing up.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Five Bucks? I'll Take It!
Something super exciting happened this weekend at the Speakeasy...
We had... A yard sale.
Yep, a good old "Set all your junk on the lawn and hope someone finds a treasure" yard sale. As far as I can recollect, I have never, in my life, had a yard sale. If there was one during my childhood, it appears to have been blacklisted from my memory. I am very thankful for this fact.
Now, I totally understand that some people have found million dollar paintings, rare coins and other "diamonds in the rough" at yard sales and swap meets, but to me it just seems tedious and like WAY too much work, rummaging through other people's junk. Now that we live at the discoball shack, I have opened up to the idea of antique faires, but that's pretty much the extent of my desire to bargain shop.
But, after our sales adventure this weekend, I have a whole new appreciation for the yard sale.
Not only did we meet almost all of our neighbors (some of whom even tried to butter us up by BUYING something), we actually sold a lot of our junk. We also ended the weekend with a nice wad of cash (yeah, grocery money!) Of course, after clearing out the contents of the garage for the sale, it now seems as though we have more stuff than we started with (explain that one to me!)
But here's the thing I realized that really made the weekend interesting: People will buy anything. I mean it. ANYTHING.
Not working weed whacker? Five bucks? I'll take it!
Golden jeweled statue of a Thai goddess that hurts my eyes to look at? Five bucks? I'll take it!
Ugly ass purse that was a gift with my makeup at Macys? A dollar? I'll take it!
Used (old) vacuum that's really old and used? Ten bucks? I'll take it!
I was shocked. There really is a person for every weird and useless item! And they will PAY to take it off your hands! Who would have thought such a thing?! I had a real junk-purge epiphany. I usually just throw everything away (except what's recyclable, of course). Now I realize that I can just put it on a table outside, throw up a "Yard Sale" sign and people will PAY ME to take it off my hands. Woah.
Oh, and the added double-whammy bonus? It's pretty good entertainment while sitting out front, getting tan and drinking light beer.
Looks like I'll never be broke, or thirsty, again!
Here here!!
:)
We had... A yard sale.
Yep, a good old "Set all your junk on the lawn and hope someone finds a treasure" yard sale. As far as I can recollect, I have never, in my life, had a yard sale. If there was one during my childhood, it appears to have been blacklisted from my memory. I am very thankful for this fact.
Now, I totally understand that some people have found million dollar paintings, rare coins and other "diamonds in the rough" at yard sales and swap meets, but to me it just seems tedious and like WAY too much work, rummaging through other people's junk. Now that we live at the discoball shack, I have opened up to the idea of antique faires, but that's pretty much the extent of my desire to bargain shop.
But, after our sales adventure this weekend, I have a whole new appreciation for the yard sale.
Not only did we meet almost all of our neighbors (some of whom even tried to butter us up by BUYING something), we actually sold a lot of our junk. We also ended the weekend with a nice wad of cash (yeah, grocery money!) Of course, after clearing out the contents of the garage for the sale, it now seems as though we have more stuff than we started with (explain that one to me!)
But here's the thing I realized that really made the weekend interesting: People will buy anything. I mean it. ANYTHING.
Not working weed whacker? Five bucks? I'll take it!
Golden jeweled statue of a Thai goddess that hurts my eyes to look at? Five bucks? I'll take it!
Ugly ass purse that was a gift with my makeup at Macys? A dollar? I'll take it!
Used (old) vacuum that's really old and used? Ten bucks? I'll take it!
I was shocked. There really is a person for every weird and useless item! And they will PAY to take it off your hands! Who would have thought such a thing?! I had a real junk-purge epiphany. I usually just throw everything away (except what's recyclable, of course). Now I realize that I can just put it on a table outside, throw up a "Yard Sale" sign and people will PAY ME to take it off my hands. Woah.
Oh, and the added double-whammy bonus? It's pretty good entertainment while sitting out front, getting tan and drinking light beer.
Looks like I'll never be broke, or thirsty, again!
Here here!!
:)
Monday, January 31, 2011
Oh, for the love of sod!
Big things happened at the Speakeasy this weekend. I'm talking "alert the presses" big.
Are you ready for the news? Here goes:
We laid sod!
Hallelujah! Our back yard has miraculously been transformed from a huge (butt-ugly) pile of dirt to an inviting, green retreat.
To add to the awesomeness of this development, that means I will no longer have to scrub my floors every other day to rid them of the ridiculous amount of dirt tracked in by the mutts and the Shupe (ok, ok, and me sometimes...) This fact makes me so happy I cannot express my joy in words. I mean, not that I don't like getting down on my hands and knees to make my floors sparkle, only to have the beautiful result of my labor trampled within 24 hours of the cleaning by mutts REALLY excited to run in the dirt and then through the house. But really, I'm stoked. To steal from a friend of mine (with a little poetic license):
Having a beautifully sodded lawn is like a high five from Jesus himself.
Here's to a spring and summer of lazy afternoons, cold cocktails and great times with friends in our new oasis. Cheers.
Oh, but before I finish... One HUGE thank you to Amy, the Shupettes and Phil. Having the kiddos "help" with the project made it totally fun. And, as is a requirement for being called a "Shupe" Amy definitely knows how to work with her hands. To Phil, the best bro ever, thanks for only running and hour late and still getting there in time to put in some awesome work. You all are the best.
Don't ask me how the hell we saw this and thought, "I see something wonderful."
The Before... Ugg...
After <3
Are you ready for the news? Here goes:
We laid sod!
Hallelujah! Our back yard has miraculously been transformed from a huge (butt-ugly) pile of dirt to an inviting, green retreat.
To add to the awesomeness of this development, that means I will no longer have to scrub my floors every other day to rid them of the ridiculous amount of dirt tracked in by the mutts and the Shupe (ok, ok, and me sometimes...) This fact makes me so happy I cannot express my joy in words. I mean, not that I don't like getting down on my hands and knees to make my floors sparkle, only to have the beautiful result of my labor trampled within 24 hours of the cleaning by mutts REALLY excited to run in the dirt and then through the house. But really, I'm stoked. To steal from a friend of mine (with a little poetic license):
Having a beautifully sodded lawn is like a high five from Jesus himself.
Here's to a spring and summer of lazy afternoons, cold cocktails and great times with friends in our new oasis. Cheers.
Oh, but before I finish... One HUGE thank you to Amy, the Shupettes and Phil. Having the kiddos "help" with the project made it totally fun. And, as is a requirement for being called a "Shupe" Amy definitely knows how to work with her hands. To Phil, the best bro ever, thanks for only running and hour late and still getting there in time to put in some awesome work. You all are the best.
Don't ask me how the hell we saw this and thought, "I see something wonderful."
The Before... Ugg...
After <3
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The Woman Who Changed Your Life
I recently finished reading (alright, listening to) a book that was so powerful I want to jump up on my soapbox and proselytize for the world to hear. So here's my pared back version...
The Book: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks
The Author: Rebecca Skloot
Here's the basic gist of the book:
Henrietta Lacks was a poor black woman who, in early 1951, was diagnosed and treated at Johns Hopkins Hospital for cervical cancer. Unbeknownst to Henrietta, during her treatment one of her physicians took cells from both her tumor and the healthy portions of her cervix, in an effort to attempt to grow cultures from those cells.
Henrietta died later that year. Those cells are still alive today.
Henrietta's cells, known as HeLa cells, have been used in finding a cure for polio, learning more about cancer, studying viruses, the beginnings of in vitro fertilization and cloning. They were the first cells sent up in space. They have been "bought and sold by the billions" and "if you could pile all HeLa cells ever grown onto a scale, they’d weigh more than 50 million metric tons — as much as a hundred Empire State Buildings."
Her cells have impacted the way you and I live our lives. Imagine not having a cure for polio. Or if we had to continue to test vaccines and antibiotics on people, rather than cell cultures in a lab. Henrietta's cells were the first to survive - and thrive - in the lab environment and have surprised scientists for decades with their strength and vitality.
Her family has never received a dime for the sales of her cells, and they didn't even know about the cells and their amazing contribution to science until decades after she died. Until the day she died, Henrietta's daughter Deborah struggled to pay her own medical bills and had to use public clinics when she needed treatments - the treatments her mother's cells probably helped discover.
Rebecca Skloot took nearly a decade doing research on Henrietta, her family, her cells and their contribution to science. She saw a woman and a family who deserved more than anyone to be recognized for their contribution to society, yet never received it, and decided to do something about it.
This book is powerful, thought-provoking, educational and emotional. My heart ached for her family as they struggled with doctors testing them without informed consent, scammers trying to con them into taking ownership of the HeLa cells, slimy media leeches sensationalizing Henrietta and her story, and the bold-faced lies from doctors that they received throughout their lives.
If you are looking for a book that will open your eyes, make you take notice and keep you wanting to read more, I highly suggest this one. This story deserves to be heard.
The Book: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks
The Author: Rebecca Skloot
Here's the basic gist of the book:
Henrietta Lacks was a poor black woman who, in early 1951, was diagnosed and treated at Johns Hopkins Hospital for cervical cancer. Unbeknownst to Henrietta, during her treatment one of her physicians took cells from both her tumor and the healthy portions of her cervix, in an effort to attempt to grow cultures from those cells.
Henrietta died later that year. Those cells are still alive today.
Henrietta's cells, known as HeLa cells, have been used in finding a cure for polio, learning more about cancer, studying viruses, the beginnings of in vitro fertilization and cloning. They were the first cells sent up in space. They have been "bought and sold by the billions" and "if you could pile all HeLa cells ever grown onto a scale, they’d weigh more than 50 million metric tons — as much as a hundred Empire State Buildings."
Her cells have impacted the way you and I live our lives. Imagine not having a cure for polio. Or if we had to continue to test vaccines and antibiotics on people, rather than cell cultures in a lab. Henrietta's cells were the first to survive - and thrive - in the lab environment and have surprised scientists for decades with their strength and vitality.
Her family has never received a dime for the sales of her cells, and they didn't even know about the cells and their amazing contribution to science until decades after she died. Until the day she died, Henrietta's daughter Deborah struggled to pay her own medical bills and had to use public clinics when she needed treatments - the treatments her mother's cells probably helped discover.
Rebecca Skloot took nearly a decade doing research on Henrietta, her family, her cells and their contribution to science. She saw a woman and a family who deserved more than anyone to be recognized for their contribution to society, yet never received it, and decided to do something about it.
This book is powerful, thought-provoking, educational and emotional. My heart ached for her family as they struggled with doctors testing them without informed consent, scammers trying to con them into taking ownership of the HeLa cells, slimy media leeches sensationalizing Henrietta and her story, and the bold-faced lies from doctors that they received throughout their lives.
If you are looking for a book that will open your eyes, make you take notice and keep you wanting to read more, I highly suggest this one. This story deserves to be heard.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
A note on kindness
Today was one of those days.
You know, the days when everything that can go wrong, will go wrong? Starting with waking up feeling that on-the-brink-of-getting-sick feeling. Ugg. The worst feeling you can have, especially on the first big week back at work after a lovely winter holiday break.
Then, the car breaks down. The car that isn't mine, but was borrowed with the hopes of taking the 4 wheel drive-r to the snow to catch some epic powder on the slopes (which didn't happen, due to the "significant other's" unpredictable work schedule). Thank you, ma, for letting me borrow the car. But the break down within a week? Epic fail.
Then, to the sub-zero bike ride to work. (Ok, sub-zero in my world is more like 35 degrees, but still!) Even bundled up in my five layers, with gloves, pea coat and all, I still almost lost a finger, my left foot and maybe a nose. It... Was... Cold. How those people who bike to work everyday in the winter do it, I have NO idea. Even Old Blue Eyes couldn't perk me up with his lovely crooner tunes. Brrrr....
The work day went by with relatively little fan fare. Thankfully I have a job where workdays are fun and bring exciting challenges and new ideas. Thank goodness for that.
Then I get home, ready to face the pile of laundry I have been thinking about tackling all day, only to realize that in my haste to get our marketing trip done yesterday I had picked out "fabric softener" instead of the intended "detergent." Who even uses fabric softener?! Isn't that what dryer sheets are for? Shupasaurus, time for a trip to the co-op! (Brrrrrrrr, again.)
Now, I've been trying all day not to fall in the grump haze. Sure, the day didn't go as planned. Sure, I have to figure out how to get to work tomorrow without a repeat of freeze-fest 2011. Ok, I wasted $6 on fabric softener that I in no way need.
What made the day shine was this: After waiting at the end of my street, almost in oncoming traffic, with a stalled out Jeep, for nearly half an hour, hoping Shupasaurus would answer his stupid phone (!), a lovely woman stopped. She pulled over, got out and asked if I needed a hand. White gloves and all, she pushed the Jeep while I steered it out of the street and into the parking lane. Then she even asked if I needed a ride to wherever I was headed. THAT is what gives me hope. Someone stopped and took three minutes out of their busy day to care about a complete stranger. She took (seriously) five minutes to stop and help someone else, rather than rushing here or there, like everyone else (including my neighbors!)
So thanks, stranger lady. You really made my day. I hope your day was awesome and you win the lottery or something, because you deserve it.
(I won't mention that I got a parking ticket for leaving my car there.)
:)
You know, the days when everything that can go wrong, will go wrong? Starting with waking up feeling that on-the-brink-of-getting-sick feeling. Ugg. The worst feeling you can have, especially on the first big week back at work after a lovely winter holiday break.
Then, the car breaks down. The car that isn't mine, but was borrowed with the hopes of taking the 4 wheel drive-r to the snow to catch some epic powder on the slopes (which didn't happen, due to the "significant other's" unpredictable work schedule). Thank you, ma, for letting me borrow the car. But the break down within a week? Epic fail.
Then, to the sub-zero bike ride to work. (Ok, sub-zero in my world is more like 35 degrees, but still!) Even bundled up in my five layers, with gloves, pea coat and all, I still almost lost a finger, my left foot and maybe a nose. It... Was... Cold. How those people who bike to work everyday in the winter do it, I have NO idea. Even Old Blue Eyes couldn't perk me up with his lovely crooner tunes. Brrrr....
The work day went by with relatively little fan fare. Thankfully I have a job where workdays are fun and bring exciting challenges and new ideas. Thank goodness for that.
Then I get home, ready to face the pile of laundry I have been thinking about tackling all day, only to realize that in my haste to get our marketing trip done yesterday I had picked out "fabric softener" instead of the intended "detergent." Who even uses fabric softener?! Isn't that what dryer sheets are for? Shupasaurus, time for a trip to the co-op! (Brrrrrrrr, again.)
Now, I've been trying all day not to fall in the grump haze. Sure, the day didn't go as planned. Sure, I have to figure out how to get to work tomorrow without a repeat of freeze-fest 2011. Ok, I wasted $6 on fabric softener that I in no way need.
What made the day shine was this: After waiting at the end of my street, almost in oncoming traffic, with a stalled out Jeep, for nearly half an hour, hoping Shupasaurus would answer his stupid phone (!), a lovely woman stopped. She pulled over, got out and asked if I needed a hand. White gloves and all, she pushed the Jeep while I steered it out of the street and into the parking lane. Then she even asked if I needed a ride to wherever I was headed. THAT is what gives me hope. Someone stopped and took three minutes out of their busy day to care about a complete stranger. She took (seriously) five minutes to stop and help someone else, rather than rushing here or there, like everyone else (including my neighbors!)
So thanks, stranger lady. You really made my day. I hope your day was awesome and you win the lottery or something, because you deserve it.
(I won't mention that I got a parking ticket for leaving my car there.)
:)
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