I was so stressed out I needed a pedicure...

Thursday afternoon, after four weeks of bouncing between the mechanic and insurance companies, two rental cars, delayed car parts and THE REST OF MY LIFE, I thought I was going to loose my mind.

Actually I'm pretty sure I'd already lost my mind and was finally noticing this. All over $2500 worth of exhaust system damage (start at the catalytic converter and keep adding parts and labor)

On top of it all, I've gotten new responsibilities at work which I inherently love because they involve photography -- but are totally overwhelming at the moment because I've got to learn yet another Tool and skillset. For about two weeks I was literally passing out at 8:30, getting up at 5 and starting the day all over again.

Wednesday I broke down with BBGB (over IM, of course). I'm tired, I'm stressed, I have no time, I am overwhelmed. How much is this going to cost me and when is this going to be over had become the constant litany replacing a usually very fun and interesting daydreaming life. I haven't blogged in WEEKS. Boo hoo me.

There's a reason she's my bestest girl buddy ever. Her solution: get some perspective and a massage.

See, we are Californians, and in California we know there's no mental upheaval that can't be solved with a lil pampering. In fact, I bet this applies to all women, but Cali girls are the first ones that I have ever heard admit it. Out loud. In mixed company. We are not afraid to admit: when the going gets tough, the tough get a rub down. Fellas, take note.

It was my idea to throw in the pedicure. By the time I was sitting under the lamp watching my cute pink toes dry I had a whole new mental frame.

Thank god I have insurance - the repair is covered. I get to cruise around in a sweet rental car (drive it like you stole it, baybee) for two weeks. When all of this is over, I'll have no problem getting my car to pass Washington emissions because I will have an almost entirely brand new exhaust system. And i have cute little flowers painted on my big toes.

So while I'm not going to thank any part stealing junk heads anytime soon, I really have nothing to complain about. Just need to grow some patience, and start blogging again.

You know it was a good day because

...you get to go to the mountain, even though your car is out of commission (long story, see the one about the exhaust pipe thief)
...you run into FLOML snowboarding, and your heart doesn't even flutter.
...you find yourself enjoying an unexpected companion: great conversation, laughs, and good runs. At the end of the day you can say you have a new friend. (Code name: 2Plank)
...you finish the day with a quite house, a hot bath, and Joseph Campbell.
...bedtime looks like heaven. You're convinced your pillows have gotten even softer than they were when you left them this morning.

Pretty damn delightful.

Turkey Burgers to Monogomy

D says:
another day, another turkey burger
Rosie says:
LOL
Rosie says:
mmm, i might go have seconds of Indian food in a minute. i did a bad thing today
D says:
what was your sin of choice
Rosie says:
i stole a bottle of Tobasco from the cafeteria to keep in the kitchen on my floor
D says:
HA
Rosie says:
cause i go thru about a bottle a week
Rosie says:
and i'm tired of running downstairs to get it
D says:
me too
D says:
buy your own silly
D says:
dont get fired over some hot sauce
Rosie says:
lmao, it's still in the building, just upstairs I'm jsut restocking
D says:
uh huh
Rosie says:
as long as it doesn't leave the building, I haven't stolen anything
Rosie says:
just misplaced it
D says:
it all depends on who defines stolen in the hierarchy
Rosie says:
hehehe
Rosie says:
thanks sweetie, I suppose I'll take the heat when it hits me
Rosie says:
oye...even funny man robin williams can't keep a marriage going...I'm not even going to TRY...lol
D says:
im really past the point of being surprised
Rosie says:
ya - i just wonder what is the problem? i mean, ultimately what's going on - is marriage just outdated, do we have more options? are people just not willint to work things out? is it just that more people get divorced cause it's an option now than back in the old days? Wtf? I guess they don't publicize the marriages that work
Rosie says:
but still, it just puzzles me
D says:
im not convinced that humans are monogamous by nature most animals aren't
Rosie says:
true
D says:
i think that yeah we raise youngins with a single partner but then most animals go off with someone else
Rosie says:
interesting
D says:
almost half of marriages end up in divorce, but factor in marriages with infidelity, and "open marriages"....there not a whole lot of till death do us part in there
Rosie says:
yeah i'm just wondering if there needs to be some differentiating between sexual intimacy and lifelong relationships - i mean don't get me wrong, I'm not headed for the open relationship, but sometimes i wonder if this whole storybook bullshit about "happily ever after" and "soulmates" (there's one person for everyone) doesn't create this unrealistic expectation that the one person you marry will be able to be "all things" rather than just acknowledging our biology (attraction may vary)
Rosie says:
and valuing emotional loyalty and intimacy at a higher level (something i don't think we do at all) i mean, if sexual intimacy is the biggest value in a relationship it seems inevitable that things are going to fall apart. its a biological drive essentially but when two people 'get' each other in an emotionally intimate way that is the kind of thing that keeps people friends for life - so why can't that work for marriage too
Rosie says:
we live in a culture where men are denied permission to access and express emotions for risk of being weak or less manly which leaves lots of men's emotional sides immature (undeveloped rather than 'childish') then all we have to bond with is the sexual/attraction level of intimacy which is bound to fail, change or switch to another partner
D says:
we gotta get you a book deal
Rosie says:
sheeesh...quit ya teasin me
D says:
and i didn't even have to rub your feet
Rosie says:
oh don't worry, i'm keeping a tab of all the feet rubbing I have coming
D says:
from who
Rosie says:
IF i ever do see you again you better be ready
D says:
oh boy
Rosie says:
After you get done, there won't be any feet left for anyone else
D says:
well damn, did i promise to rub any thing else
Rosie says:
uh...not that i recall - at least not while either one of us was sober
D says:
thats prolly a good thing
Rosie says:
what the not remembering or the not being sober
D says:
what may have been promised in a drunken state
Rosie says:
oh yeah, course
D says:
shit i might end up pregnant
Rosie says:
lmao keep it in yer pants, buster
D says:
i always have....with you
Rosie says:
well that makes ONE person

D is a boy -er- man, that I've known since we were both 19. He's the best friend I've ever had. We talk about everything. Usually while I'm waiting for some program to load, or files to copy or other such goofiness. He is my twin - and I love him more than life. This is why.

I will not freak out...I will stay calm...I will not kill anyone...

Today I returned from the bus after a blissful sunny afternoon wandering around downtown and climbed into my car. I started the engine and immediately knew something was wrong. It sounded like no one had bothered to install a muffler on my car. Parked on a busy street and against a high wall I couldn't safely take a look, so I let it run for a minute, made sure there were no fluids dripping and drove the mile and a half home.

Safe from traffic in the driveway I got on my hands and knees and looked under the car.

Muffler - still attached. No visible holes.

Exhaust Pipe.

Missing.

Yeah, someone had cut the exhaust pipe from the muffler to the header. About two feet of pipe was missing, cleanly sliced off. In fact, the first cut on the header side was too high so they pulled out and moved further down.

Just so you know - I wasn't parked in a lot all day, or even on a side street. I'm parked on a major street, busy all day and yet some asshole had the unmitigated gall to break out the saw and pull a usless peice of pipe from my car. I mean, the muffler I could understand, the header even...if your desperate and you really need a stock muffler or header...please take mine.

But the pipe. The stupid pipe you could get at ace hardware for a few bucks. INSTEAD YOU STOLE MINE? REALLY?

D is convinced it's revenge. He's wondering who's man I stole. Maybe I should have a convo with HF about that one, eh?

Honestly, I must have pissed somebody off. The funny part is, well it's just funny. So bizarre, and unbelievable. It's just random. D's second guess is that it's "mistaken identity," whoever it was thought the car belonged to someone else.

Has anyone else heard of this? Is this a common car prank? Is there something special about stock exhaust pipes that I don't know about?

WTF?

Travel Plan

I'm hungry for it now. This morning I woke up with a gnawing in my proverbial belly. It said one word: TRAVEL.

After two weeks of cramming travel books at the library and Barnes and Noble, here are my top destinations so far (in no particular order):

Costa Rica
Guatemala
Panama
Indonesia
Cambodia
Spain
Chile

I'm starting to look at travel by region - that way I can hit up multiple countries in one trip. The problem is, I want to go to them all AT THE SAME TIME.

How on earth do I decide where do I go first?!

Visualize this...

and, more importantly, ME in THIS.

I know, cute, right?

Socrates on Gossip

Lately I've been thinking about gossip. One of the many little indulgences I allow myself is the occasional snark - either among friends or in the larger public sphere of celebrity trainwreck action. Unlike pizza and ice cream (both of which can be worked off when consumed in moderation) I am beginning to see how the use of words can have far more lasting, and insidious impact.

In the Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz refers to one of the primary Agreements of "Using your word impeccably." In short: words are powerful, we can use them to build up or tear down, and we owe it to ourselves (and others) to use our words in a way that creates, not destroys. Ultimately when we use our words destructively - even if it appears to be against others -the true damage we cause is to ourselves.

So my obsession with snarky gossip - from chatting with the girls to celebrity snarking- not only serves no ultimate purpose, but it degrades myself in the process. Trouble is, it's so ingrained I'm not sure how to change that.

Of course, the universe reveals information exactly when I'm finally open to receive it and this little gem crossed my radar.

According to legend, the Greek scholar Socrates held a particular disdain for gossip. When faced with a juicy tidbit of info, it is said he had a three part test before allowing the giver to proceed. Summed up briefly (the whole post is circling the internet in infamy, go look it up if you need the details) here is Socrates criteria:

1. Is it valid? Do you know if the information is factual and true? Do you personally know the people involved?
2. Is it good news? Is the news your relating positive?
3. Is it useful? Is there true value to me knowing (and you sharing, or vice versa) this bit of info.


How true is this story? Ultimately, does it matter? If it was Socrates, Plato, MC Hammer or God itself. I believe it. I asked for help in how to break this bad habit, and the universe gave me the tools I need to make it happen.

I'm committing to stop feeding the gossip monster bits of my own humanity. I owe myself at least that. I'm even going so far as to drop my links to WWTDD and YBF - even Fug Yourself has to go. And before you start groaning at my being a goody two shoes - just remember, if it really is something YOU feel alright doing, nobody's stopping you, or wagging a finger in your face, least of all me.

And really, those blogs have enough links to keep a bazillion people coming there every day. Loosing me won't make anybody cry. I'm not trying to start a movement, or spoil anyone else's fun. This time it really is personal.

101 ways to maul yourself

AKA. How to Operate a Chainsaw

This weekend HF and I went to help clear trees off his brother's property. Bro and his wife are building a house on their property - their first - and this was sort of a "family" event. Wife was out shopping so I hung out on the couch to get some writing done. I was doing really well. Of course, the short attention spanned master of procrastination has other ideas. Attracted by the sound of powertools, I headed outside to see what the boys were "up to."

The boys were doing very cool things with very scary chainsaws. They also found good use for an extra set of hands and before I knew it I was helping to pull down said alders in the desired direction. Which was kind of like playing chicken with a falling tree. Fun. Not content with just dodging trees, I decided I needed MORE danger.

So I asked to learn to run the chainsaw. I can't exactly explain the appeal to you, except for to say its the kind of thing you crave when you grow up in a house full of intellectuals. I mean I have READ about chainsaws, but I can't say I've actually been close enough to one to see the blade. HF OWNS his own chainsaw. WOW.

To his credit, HF didn't even hesitate when I asked. Outfitted in gloves, goggles and a stern lecture on how "carelessness with the chainsaw can kill you," he pointed me at the nearest fallen trees and proceeded to teach a course in "Chainsaw operation 101."

Which amounted to "101 ways to maul yourself if you don't pay attention to what your doing with a motor operated saw."

Good times. Before each new bit of the lesson I got a worst case scenario explanation of exactly HOW I could maul myself if I didn't do it right. Which is probably why the final lesson was how to start the thing, as the wrong sequence of action can land you a saw blade in the schnoz - and though the blade wouldn't be running it would still probably hurt like a mother f*Cker.

So. Each alder I was allowed to work on was only about 4-8 inches thick, but apparently in all the pictures I have a very intense expression on my face as I maneuver the saw through trunks. Yes, you heard that right. Some people will naked pictures circling the internet - me? In mine, I am fully clothed and holding a chainsaw while massacring some fallen baby trees. God forbid I ever run for office.

I have to say HF is a pretty good teacher. He was patient, grave, but still let me have at it for as long as I wanted to, and didn't complain when I retreated back to my computer with a trembling arm. Of course, you'd be a good teacher to if you could spend part of the afternoon drinking beer while supervising your girlfriend sharpening your chainsaw blade.

Suffice it to say, my desire to run a 'saw is completely satisfied. Now I will have something interesting to add to a character's traits when I need an outdoorsy rural type. That's the great thing about being a writer: Everything is research.

Why can't I?

Famous last words in the Book of Rosie...

My cube-mate (yes you heard that right, in my most recent employment incarnation I not only have to work in a cube, I actually have to share that cube with another full grown human being. May I note that it's not exactly a LARGE cube either)

So to begin again. Thankfully my cubemate and I have become an extended version of single-serving friends. She's my mom's age, and kind of an old hippie type, which is interesting only because we now both work in technology - afield nether one of us EVER saw ourselves going into. We spend a lot of time together, so we talk. Probably more than we should, but I'm just considering myself lucky that we have something to talk about, and that she's more interesting than That Guy my friend LegalGirl shares cubespace with. LegalGirl and I have agreed that That Guy isn't interesting enough to get a real code name. In fact, he doesn't appear to have much of a personality at all.

My cubepartner, Blossom, however is hu-way cool for an old chick (and I mean that in the best way) smart, liberal and opinionated, she seems like the kind of mom you wish your best friend had. Early on I shared with her that I was on this savings plan, to travel at the end of my contract. Today we wound up talking about travel again. Payday does that to a brain.

"So what you're gonna save like 1000 a month or something?" she asked.

I paused for just a second, my mouth open but my throat catching hard on the "I wish" I was about to utter. I did a bit of quick math - $1,000 for 12 months. That's a whole lotta travel freedom. What if I couldn't do it? Conversely, what did I have to loose by aiming aim high? As W. Clement Stone said, "Aim for the moon. Even if you miss, you may hit a star."

I've made "go big or go home" my personal motto in everything from snowboarding to eating a good meal. It's gotten me big jumps, busted knees, unforgettable dining and a few extra pounds in the back end. Why not take that challenge to my finances? Granted, that would be almost 1/3 of my monthly take home, but as tracking my weekly expenses has revealed - I actually don't have that many if I limit my nights out and driving. And shopping.

The Law of Attraction dictates that you are only capable of achieving what you believe you can, alternately, what you believe in you can achieve. And belief involves a certain amount of faith. Even in the face of doubt and improbability.

So I closed my mouth, looked her dead in the face, then said, "Yeah, just like that."

Note to self: a moratorium has been placed on the purchase of all shoes until further notice.

That is all.

For Whom the Phone Rings, or Karma is a Bitch

So guess who had a missed call she couldn't clear from her phone today? See if the caller had left a message the missed call sign would have gone away when I checked my voicemail. Unfortunately they couldn't be bothered - or the call wasn't that important in the first place (more than likely) so now, do I not only know what they wanted, but WHO the "they" are.

I didn't think it was so annoying at first until every time I left my desk and came back I did a double take wondering who on earth even knew the extension to reach me in this cavern of contractors. It really was annoying. Thank God Legalgirl was online.

Rosie: Damn that missed call thing is annoying.
LegalGrrl (She made me promise if I blogged this I would spell the girl as she prefered"grrl" which is SOOO 90's but is also how I prefer spelling my own monkier - as in RosieGrrl, anywho): Not u too?
Rosie: Ah yeah, karma is a f*cking b*tch, eh?
LegalGrrl: Ya. Completely. Do u want ThatGuy's extension?
PAUSE
Rosie: Uh, yeah, I guess so. This is going to drive me crazy.

Once again, the universe checks in to remind one smart-ass girl to stop trash talking everyone else. One never knows when they might have information that one might happen to appreciate having.

When the phone just won't behave

LegalGirl says That Guy spent about two hours today trying to figure out how to make his phone stop displaying a bogus "new call" notification. He literally could not let it go. Not in the, "jeeze that's annoying, guess I will not waste one more second being annoyed and just ignore it," sort of way. More along the lines of, "I cannot function in any way shape or form unless I right this egregious error immediately!"

What's more sad: That it bugged him so much he couldn't work for trying to figure the damn thing out, or that the company is so fricking disorganized that no one along the chain of 'help' peeps could actually figure it out?

Either way, I can't fault him for trying - but I do feel for LegalGirl. I can just picture her ass-deep in Very Important Documents, trying to focus on copy editing said documents with the consistent drone of half-deaf That Guy on the phone with support in the background. Apparently she gave up at some point, cause I got the IM flash in the corner of my screen.

She did fill me in on the Visqueen show this weekend at Sunset - the show I was too late to get tickets for and was apparently great (as always, love Visqueen)

This is what happens when I spend too much time on YouTube

Oh shit, see what happens when I go looking to post that Mayer/Keys commercial - all kinda funny bidness comes up. I'd almost rather watch him do stupid funny shit than play music most days. This shit kills me:



Holy hell. Where did this boy come from? Yeah, he's a big goofy dork. Swoon.

John Mayer + Alicia Keys = My happy ears...

BBGB turned me on to these MTV ads - cause she understands my unhealthy and unholy obsession with John Mayer's well being. I don't have a crush on him, per se: it's just that Mayer is the kind of guy that composed most of my social circle in High School. Awkward, oddly charming, musically talented and most of the time attracted to the wrong women. The kind of guy I would have had a crush on if I hadn't had enough sense to know that I didn't stand a chance when compared to his idealized version of womanhood in the form of the popular, cheerleader-type (aka Jessica Simpson)

So anyway. Fast forward. Yes he writes sappy music with lyrics that real men hate because it puts all this pressure on them to be "That Guy" for their girlfriends (aka Say Anything Syndrome) Still, the guy manages not to take himself too seriously (cough, cough: Jack Johnson) He allows himself to be photographed in the Borat wrestling costume. AND....then there are the MTV rabbit commercials, which if you're like me and can't stand to watch what passes for programming these days on "WTF-happened-to-the Music Television," you probably missed:



Thank God for BBGB. Cause not only is Mayer in the suit, but the spots feature Alicia Keys, who is rocking my world and my Ipod. Turns out she did the fabulous outro vocals for Mayer's "Gravity," and he's featured on "Lesson Learned" from As I Am, which has not left my Ipod playlist since it was added. The chemistry between these two is outstanding - and I'm not even thinking THAT kind of chemistry. On pure musical talent and simpatico alone, this is a collaborations I never dreamed could be so amazing.

What do I not ADORE about Ms. Keys? Since the Tori Amos days I've been a sucker for a chick on a piano. And a chick that rocks a piano with some serious Motown soul? Oh mercy! Plus, in a world populated by trainwreck chicks with questionable talent (Amy, Britney, Lindsay...PARIS, anyone?) she is mature, gracious, sexy-without-the-slime and above all - a talented musician. She so composed, with just enough swagger to let you know she could still kick somebody's ass but she chooses to behave better than that. Plus the girl has a booty. Hallelujah. She looks like a real woman. Curvy, gorgeous, Beyonce take note: THAT is is the definition of bootylicious. Who knows, Keys could be a cranked out wackjob in real life, but she manages to keep her shit on straight. CLASSY.

Do I want to be her when I grow up? Hell yeah. Especially when you get to pull off this shit with Mayer at the Grammys:




I can die and go to heaven. Check that swagger. Hollah. That is all.

Fates worse than death

I believe there are fates worse than death. That is, some things I would rather die than do or have happen to me.

For instance, if I could no longer eat, or enjoy food, which is such a primary point in my life. Don't get me wrong, food is not an emotional experience - not my ultimate comfort. But the act, and pleasure of eating is something that would seriously impact my overall quality of life, if say, I had to take all my nourishment intravenously for the rest of my days.

Indeed, this is a purely personal "worse than death." Perhaps for most people the choice between staying alive and not being able to chew is not a difficult one to make. Maybe I would learn to deal with it - to cope, as all human beings have done facing adversity through time since the beginning of it. And I know there are plenty of medical conditions that prevent people from eating in the traditional sense. I'm not talking about having a food allergy, or a lack of teeth. I'm talking about never being able to sit down at a table with people I love and share a meal. Taste a blackberry picked fresh off a vine in summer time, gnash on popcorn in the middle of the night, close my eyes at HF's command as he slips a piece of rich dark chocolate between my lips.

More than food itself is the quality of the experience that makes life worth living. I like nourishing my body. I like textures of foods in my mouth. I like the opportunity for social bonding that comes up around a good meal, or even appetizers during happy hour.

What I think IS universal about all this is that we all have at least one "a fate worse than death," something that without, or having gone through, our lives would never be the same - might not even be worth living. For my friend, the published author, it would be loosing her command of language. For my bro, it's a prolonged, wasting illness.

Sure, nothing is as ultimate as death - and I don't suggest that I live in fear of not being able to taste the cool wash of beer over my tongue on a hot summer day. But each of us are here, in this life, with our own experience - on our own terms. That's what makes it worthwhile. And there's a power in knowing for me that some things are absolutely nonnegotiable - and they don't always have to be the lofty concepts. "Give me freedom or give me death" is all well and good, but often times our individual lives don't come down to anything nearly so dramatic. That doesn't mean it's any less important to know where we stand - and what we will, and won't stand for.

The Three B's

Does anyone else out there have this problem? I spend way too much time on IM during the day. To be fair, it IS one of the primary modes of communication at work - my boss may not pick up her phone or check her voice mail --EVER -- but she'll certainly shoot back a reply complete with goofy smilie face emoticon if I ping her with an IM.

Unfortunately I've been using the same IM since college and at every job I've had since - so EVERYBODY who knows me knows it. I hear most frequently from D who checks in to ask me about my weekend and tell me about his latest conquest. BBGB and I chat on and off but she is arguably the only person I know who is more busy than I am during the day. Legal Girl likes to ping me about shows. TechMan gripes about being the IT guru for a bunch of luddite blockheads. FrontDesk gripes about, well being at the front desk all day and Sk8terBoi tries to keep me up to date on the latest shop drama.

I love hearing snippets of my friends lives and keeping track of people. I rarely Myspace any more and only hit Facebook when I get notification that somebody has done some obnoxious thing to my account - anyone been turned into a vampire yet?

But last week everybody wanted to chat. Of course, I was slammed for the first time at work. changing my status to offline helped, but that doesn't fool the people who know me best. Which is just about everybody. By Wednesday, I instituted the Three B's status on my outgoing tag as in:

If it's not Burning, Bleeding or Broken...come back later.

The funny thing is, it actually worked. By Friday all I had to do was add "Three B's!" and the IM was quiet. The funny thing is that although the Three B's started as a way to ward off other people, it's also begun to translate to warding off the internal pitfalls that get in the way of being my own best person. I mean, how many times do I overreact, or let anxiety keep me from enjoying the moment? Cause really, like the Dali Lama said:

There's no point in worry, if there is a solution, it will become apparent. If not, there is nothing you can do about it. Why worry.

So how to the Three B's apply? For example, when I catch myself getting worked up over something, it goes:

Feeling anxious, stressed out, worried? Is it broken, burning or bleeding? Then chill out.

Feelings hurt? Offended? Annoyed? Is it bleeding, broken or burning? then let it go.

Hurried, harried, pressured? Is it burning, broken or bleeding? Then just relax.

You get the idea...The Three B's is rapidly becoming a personal mantra.

Come to think of it -- look out, it's another THIS I BELIEVE coming up--

I believe in having personal mantras. I believe there's nothing magical about a good mantra: I believe there's something powerful about the repetition of important helpful thought patterns to counter years of repetitive thoughts that are not empowering me to be the best person I can be.

AND, I believe my chicken is done cooking (I can smell it from here) so I'm off to satisfy another one of my beliefs:

I believe that feeding oneself is ordinary, but enjoying a good meal divine.

I belive...

• that paradoxically, an entire life spent as a hopeless klutz has forced me to develop amazing reflexes.
  

(this after accidentally I knocked my boss' -thankfully empty - travel mug from his desk then caught said mug before it hit the ground. I heard "wow," I thought "thank god.")

Statements of Belief

• I believe that the Thai expression "mi ben lai" (letting it go) can be the most effective way to end a fight. The key is in having nothing to do with "winning."
• I believe that pizza and ice cream is an acceptable substitute for makeup sex
• I believe I am smarter, funnier, and more bold than I give myself credit for.
• I believe that I am loved
  

What do I belive?

So my first set of statements of belief are as follows (in absolutely no particular order)

• When it comes to relationships, I believe that working it out may be a lot harder than walking away, but so much more worthwhile.
• I believe that ending tears with laughter is better than any medicine.
• I believe that I know more than I give myself credit for.
• I believe that I am the first person I need to love, and be loved by, before I can expect anyone else to "fall" for me.
  
• I believe that just because Netflix recommends a movie based on other movies I've enjoyed, doesn't mean I have to like it.
• I believe that riding the bus to work every day makes me a better person. NOT better than anyone else (including car drivers) just a better version of me.
• I do believe, however that by taking the bus I'm earning credit for when I do choose to drive.
• I believe that all I need to do to change is believe that I can do it.
• I believe that there are some parts of love that sappy love songs know nothing about.
  

And now, for something completely different....

Still not ready to talk about things. So let's have a meme, shall we?

The Alphabet Meme-

A - Age: 20-something
B - Band listening to right now: Arctic monkeys
C - Career future: Freedom from having to work
D - Dad’s name: Daddy-O
E - Easiest person to talk to: BBG
F - Favorite type of shoe: boots (cowboy, snowboard, hiking...)
G – Grapes or Grapefruit: Grapefruit - tart, tasty, good for you
H – Hometown: Cali (okay I know that's a state, but who's checking)
I – Instrumental talent: Ipod Diva aka Sing-a-long Sally
J – Juice of choice: Cranberry
K – Koala Bear or Panda Bear: Koala
L - Longest car ride ever: 14 hours
M – Middle name: "Sunshine"
N - Number of jobs you’ve had: Who's counting anyway?
O- OCD traits: Flossing my teeth, using 'like' far too much in my sentences
P - Phobia[s]: Hard shelled bugs
Q - Quote: "I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life's a bitch. You've got to go out and kick ass.” -Maya Angelou
R - Reason to smile: Clothes fresh out of the dryer
S - Song you sang last: Lovely Guilty - Visqueen
T - Time you wake up: Way to fucking early
U - Unknown fact about me: I can be dreadfully insecure.
V - Vegetable you hate: Brussels Sprouts
W - Worst habit: Spending too much time on the computer
X - X-rays you’ve had: Knees, wrist, spine, shoulder (yeah I'm kinda a klutz)
Y - Yummiest food my belly likes: Spinach Salad - know, i'm a green food geek
Z - Zodiac sign: Gemini (sun) Virgo (moon)

It was an asscracking good time...

Speaking of my privileged life: Friday I did drive.

I threw my board and shit into the back and headed up to the Summit after work. Anyone who rides The Summit knows it's not the best mountain around (low elevation, short runs, sometimes excruciatingly family oriented) but it has one major plus. Proximity. I could throw a rock from my job and knock someone off the chairlift (not that I would, but it is tempting) Plus they offer a sweet night ride session, so if I leave work at 3:30ish I can be dressed and in the lift line in an hour. And it's relatively cheap, as resorts go.

There hasn't been much new snow in the last few days so I knew the chances of it being more icy than usual were high. I'm seriously thinking of changing this blog to Lil Miss Stubbornhead. I could have scrubbed and gone this weekend, but after thinking about riding all day, and so close to the mtn, I couldn't say no.

As a result of which, a new word has entered the Rosie lexicon: Asscracking. As in, I fell so hard I felt my ass crack. Which I did mostly when some jackass cut me off at the lift line forcing an emergency stop, and once, when I fell getting off the chair due to my own lack of balance. Seriously, I have a bit of padding in the hind end and I have no idea how these skinny butt teenage boys manage to do this sport without causing some serious posterior damage.

Great night though, I have to say I have a thing for inclement weather. I like fog and snow and stuff that usually drives people OFF the mountain. Lest you think I am anti-social, I usually ride alone, so I do get a chance to strike up conversation with some interesting folks. Last week I met a group of Romanian kids, and once I had a conversation with some deaf snowboarders, which was fun cause I haven't practiced my ASL in a while and they seemed stoked that I had some basic language.

Last night I rode for a bit with a pair of guys I met on the chair who ride a lot like I do - not hitting the biggest stuff, but pushing themselves to new terrain. I like riding by myself, but it is nice to have a little encouragement, and company on the rough runs. I usually meet people after falling or doing something silly, which I don't think so much of myself that I can't get a good laugh out of my own antics. Conversation ensues, and suddenly the guy that looked like a total bro-brah out to be a really nice kid who can point me in the direction of a few good runs.

So it never pays to have too many preconceived notions about anyone based on what they do. That and it totally helps to be a girl snowboarder. A cute, goofy footed girl snowboarder.

Not that I'm braggin, or anything.

But nothing I did on the slopes compared to what happened 10 feet from my car, crossing some heinous ice covered concrete. I was tired, and focused on whether or not the car parked in front of me had used my bumper as a parking brake, took a big step and my feet slid right out in front of me. Of course at this point I had already taken my helmet off (bad) but I had my snowboard in my hands so I couldn't put them down behind me to break my wrists, I mean, catch myself (good). So I did a full, cartoon style, legs out in front of me landing on my entire backside and whacking my head on the ice.

Good times. I lay there, senseless, not one of the 10 odd people standing around said a thing or made a move to even see if I was still alive. It's a good thing I wasn't knocked unconscious, those bastards would have left me there to freeze to death. So today I have a couple of NICE bruises on my elbows and back and a nice nugget on the back of my head. I'm off to a hot soak in the bathtub and a healthy dose of advil.

Happy Saturday!