Sarktales

2008-11-04T21:33:00.000-08:00

Oh, President Obama. Did you have to cheapen your email?

2008-10-23T23:21:00.000-07:00

I went to the doctor today for a checkup. It had been a couple of years so I figured while we embark on our journey to knocked-upness, I should make sure the plumbing is all in tip-top shape.

Approximately 48 seconds and $25 co-payment later? I'm told that I'm overweight and have ear wax. That's it. That was my check up.

Then I get an email from Kaiser that my "diagnosis" is available to view. This is what I see:

2008-04-09T20:52:00.001-07:00

Now, I don't like to laugh at others' misfortune, but this video is pretty funny. The question I keep asking is, But where did she go?

2008-01-13T16:19:00.001-08:00

I haven't had anything exciting going on in the past few weeks. I'm making beef stroganoff for dinner, which is sort of new for me. It's one of Aaron's favorite dishes, but I tried making it years ago and the beef turned out way chewy and not very tasty.

So this time I'm trying out the new crock pot. It smells divine and I'm sure the meat will be lovely and tender. I can't say the crock pot makes cooking all that much easier--you still have to chop and saute and do dishes, but it's nice to know that dinner will sit there, being ready for us whenever we want to eat (after at least 6 hours of stewing).

Let's see...well, Christmas was fun. Otto was showered with gifts by his loving grandparents and uncle Suj, and he paid his dues by being adorable and snuggly with all of them. He really is a little charmer. My father even gave him Christmas money, $20, which I promptly brought to Vegas. Fortunately I won a little bit and stopped while mostly ahead, so I spent $42 on a sweatshirt for him. It's very warm and jaunty with a little bad ass mixed in.

Crap, I just spilled tea on my remote control and now it's not working. That can't be good.

Well, on the bright side, I didn't spill anything on my camera. So here are more pictures.

New Year's with good friends...

We had fondue.

We haven't mastered the art of taking one's own photograph. Aaron isn't that glowing white and do have a left cheek.

Oops, I did it again

2007-12-01T20:17:00.000-08:00

Not my most flattering shot:

Wheee!

2007-11-24T05:00:00.000-08:00

Oh for goodness sakes, the whole time that I was typing about how grown up I am, I was lying on the little chocolate that was put on my bed. So my bedspread has this big chocolate stain on it. Do I tell them or just check out and pretend it never happened?

2007-11-24T04:13:00.000-08:00

hello readers,

It's been a long time (20 days!) and for that I apologize. I have no excuse except that I was travealing in India and felt like all details should be saved for my work writing, since that's the reason I was going.

There is currently one article up on Petergreenberg.com on New Delhi here: http://www.petergreenberg.com/2007/11/15/off-the-brochure-new-delhi/

I'm not feeling all that confident about it, since I sent the link to most of my relatives, and so far have gotten one semi-compliment from a cousin, and another cousin is sort of mad at me for putting up some negative stuff. For the record, I maintain that it's not negative, it's just the truth as I see it on behalf of American travelers. Eh, can't please them all.

I'll put up another India article on Monday, and probably one or two more after that. I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, I traveled more than 30 hours to get back home to LA, wound up in the emergency room that night because Aaron had what we (and the doctors) thought was a heart attack, but turned out to be a lung inflammation that's totally harmless. Just horribly painful. So that was fun. By the time I recovered and felt like a normal person again, I was off to New Zealand.

And here I am in New Zealand. Again, it's one of those press trips that I feel like I should save for work writing, but I feel a little more freedom to share some of it here.

I'm in Christchurch, and just got back from the New Zealand Wine Awards, which was a super fancy award gala with innumerable bottles of wine being passed around, and food that was decent, but not the best I've ever had.

It was a pretty swank event, I have to say. I was seated between a wine expert who is on the panel of judges and decides what wines go on Air New Zealand. It was fascinating to watch him drink, because before each sip he would sniff deeply and swirl the glass around. His wife, who was this gorgeous, lovely woman, said it's just habit with him.

On my other side was Govind Armstrong and his fiance. Now, I never would have heard of Govind either, despite the fact that he's a celebrity chef who owns a totally hip and trendy restaurant in LA. But he was on Top Chef, and therefore he's on my A-list of chefs I wanted to meet, and it was more than thrilling to be sitting with him. And his fiance was this awesome chick, so that was kind of neat.

So I left the awards feeling kind of good. I had lots of high-end wines, was mingling with pretty swank people and I feel all sorts of love for New Zealand. I've never seen a country that has such national pride. Between its rugby team (which hasn't made its name into the U.S.) and its wine industry (which has), it's making its footprint on the world and creating a very distinct identity. It's a nice thing to see and to be a part of for a night.

Coming home from the event was sort of a different story. I feel like I saw an ugly side, which basically consists of very drunk kids wandering the streets. It was past midnight, and I decided to walk home from the event. It was pretty rowdy with drunk kids out and about. I was in my party dress and tripping along in my heels, but I kind of knew where I was going and felt totally sober, so I figured it would be no problem.

Somewhere along the way home I saw this completely plastered girl screaming "No" while being held up by what looked like two incredibly drunk boys. Feeling like a good samaritan, I ran across the street to help her. She was crying and holding her head, but could barely stand up. I ordered the two boys to let go of her and step back, and held onto her. I was like, "Sweetie, it's okay. Do you want me to call you a taxi to go home?" She said yes, so I tried calling the taxi number that was saved on my rented cell phone (I walked for like 45 minutes to this wine-tasting event this morning, lasted about five minutes and couldn't face the walk back, so I called my PR contact for a taxi number. And I remembered that in the heat of the moment. Very resourceful of me, I must say.)

The guys kept coming back to the girl--one was clearly her boyfriend, but she didn't want to be near him. The other guy I think was just someone who had stepped into the situation, trying to help, but he wasn't all that easy to understand. He swore he was sober, and it may have just been some wacky accent. I kept telling them to stay back and that I would deal with this, but I wasn't getting very far. The taxi number was busy, she was incoherent, and her boyfriend wasn't much better and kept trying to hold onto her, which would just make her fall down again. The supposedly sober guy wanted to call the police, and I just kept trying to call for a taxi. He had a car, and still swearing that he hadn't been drinking at all, offered to drive them home.

At first I refused that option. The drunk boyfriend couldn't articulate where the poor girl lived. The guy who offered to drive was having second thoughts, not wanting to go far out of his way. But the girl eventually started saying that she wanted to go with her boyfriend, the taxi line was still busy, and I didn't know what to do. I figured I would just wait with them until a taxi showed up. The line finally rang, and then I immediately was put on hold--and the theme to Taxi came on! I exclaimed that one out loud, but no one in this little motley crew saw the humor in that.

So finally the guy offered again to drive them home (they were already sitting in the back seat of his car at this point). He said I could go with him and he'd drive me back to where we were, which I had to laugh and say no fucking way. Finally I just let them go, just saying please be good to them. She and her boyfriend were basically passed out in the back seat , so I figured the boyfriend was in no shape to hurt her. I also figured that since she was with this big boyfriend of hers, the driver guy wouldn't be able to do anything.

Oy. So I continued walking home, uncomfortable even though I was wearing a long dress and covered in a shawl. I managed to take a wrong turn, and walked into a big scene of 8-10 policemen arresting some kids. Like reading them their Miranda rights and everything (I sort of had to marvel that they have the same Miranda rights in New Zealand).

I had to ask one of the cops for directions, because at that point I realized I was going the wrong way. He actually asked me if I was staying at a backpacker's lodge. I guess it's a valid question--I mean, I look young and therefore must be staying at a youth hostel, but for goodness sakes, I'm 31, decked out in a pretty nice dress and I was sober. When will I get the respect that my age deserve?

I think at some point along the way the cop drove by me as I was walking and asked if I wanted a ride. But it was either "Do you want a ride? or "Are you all right?" to which I answered, "Yep. I'm fine. Thanks!" Too bad, because at that point I really could have used a ride. It was just hella uncomfortable walking by all these drunk kids. I had to remind myself of when I was in college and getting drunk: If we got rowdy in a street, we were totally harmless and absorbed in being loud and obnoxious. Not attacking 30-something women in calve-length dresses and pashmina shawls. Still, I was thrilled to be back to the villa where I'm staying. And mildly disappointed because while I was avoiding any eye contact, I don't think a single drunk 20-something college boy checked me out. Hmph.

Otto's Halloween costume

2007-11-04T18:25:00.000-08:00

It's not much. Target was low on doggie costumes in his size, so I got him a too-small T-shirt with a glow-in-the-dark skeleton on the back. He wasn't very pleased, what with the chafing on his arms and the incessant ringing of the doorbell all evening. First I had him on the leash, but he scared the crap out of the first little girl who rang the bell. So after that we tied him on the outdoor leash which is tethered to a tree, so he was bouncing against the sliding door or choking himself trying to run indoors.

We may have traumatized him, but at least I didn't force him into the Princess Leia costume. Because I thought long and hard about it.

2007-11-04T10:21:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm off to my impromptu trip to India tomorrow. I start at a bright and early 4:30 a.m. (thank goodness for the time change, I get an extra hour of sleep!) I think I figured out that between flying from LA to NY, NY to Brussels and then to Delhi, it's about a 30-hour trip. Thankfully, I'm traveling in style so I should be either fresh as a daisy when I get there, or drunk.

I invested in a gorgeous new camera, so no more dark and shadowy cell phone pictures! I shall be blogging about my experiences, but I'll have to direct you to PeterGreenberg.com to check it out. It's all about journalism!

2007-10-27T23:06:00.000-07:00

I always go through a bit of an emotional arc when Aaron goes out of town, whether it's for a month or a week. First I spend time alone, trying to be productive but mostly indulging TV watching. Indulging in total slothdom is a good thing sometimes. Then I make nice social plans for a night, then I figure I can take the next night for myself and it turns out to be desperately lonely. Then I cram in lots of socializing with the girls which usually involves drinking. Then he comes home and life is normal again.

I will say, the socializing is quite fun, and I think it's a good way to create fun memories with my girlfriends. So last night involved dinner and karaoke. About dinner...

My current neighborhood is about as far from hipster as you can get, which is sort of a blesssing because it's really hard to keep up with all those people who are self-consciously attempting to look unself-conscious. It's also not overly yuppie, which was what I was afraid of encountering in the 'burbs.

I can safely say that the 'hood is not ghetto. But it is diverse as hell. So we figured wandering into a random Mexican joint would end up being a great experience. And boy were we right.

For one thing, the sign on the door was looking for waitstaff, and especially requested applicants that spoke English. According to one friend, when we walked into the joint, everything sort of quieted down and everyone stared at us (I should point out that it was me, an Indian guy, and a friend who is mixed race...we don't exactly look like a group of hicks from the Midwest). None of the waitresses spoke English, so we sort of had to cobble together some high school Spanish phrases, hoping that we weren't being offensive in the process.

So, the real point of all this. I ordered a burrito.

And it was the size of my head.

Or, perhaps a better description is that it was literally the width of my body:

Can you tell from the size of my beer how big this mother was?

There's no way to get this across on camera, but two of us decided to share an order of seafood cocktail, and the manager (the one who spoke English) said he would serve it in two dishes. Well, this was one of them. It was like a fishbowl.

All I can say is, thank goodness for neighborhood joints. I'll get into the karaoke scene some other time.

What Happens When Doggie Mommas Get Bored

2007-10-23T22:44:00.000-07:00

Ownership pitfalls

2007-10-14T17:08:00.000-07:00

The pitfalls of dog and home ownership:

We were sitting in the study when suddenly we both heard Otto squeak, and realized that we had no idea where he was. After 10 minutes of searching the house, the garage, front and back yards, the street, and even tearing open the running dishwasher, we still couldn't find him. It was terrifying. Every now and then I'd hear a squeak. I distractedly opened up cabinets in the kitchen, then Aaron marched in, now in sheer panic, saying "He went outside with you when you did laundry, right?" and me being, "I have no idea," and him going "Well he must have!" and I was about to get defensive when suddenly Otto's little nose came poking out of the cabinet underneath the sink.

He must have gone in while I was looking for the dishwashing detergent, while on the phone with my parents, and then I shut the door and walked away.

Of course, the stupid dog that barks maniacally at the drop of a hat could only squeak to let us know his positioning. And now he wants to play fetch. Sigh.

2007-10-14T14:55:00.000-07:00

Lots has happened over the past month, but nothing with any major life lessons or repercussions, so the idea of blogging about it has been daunting. I'm afraid I'll just get caught up describing the mundane details and it'll be a long, boring post. So I keep putting it off, and then more small things happen that I want to write about, and, well, let's just say it's a cyclical thing.

I rescued a dog yesterday. Sort of. I mean, as it turns out, the dog was missing for a total of four hours, and he was in my custody for about 3:45 of those.

I was walking Otto on Saturday morning, and found a dog in the middle of the street. No collar or leash or anything. He was awfully cute- all white and fluffety, and he kept following us and squeaking. Yes, squeaking. Not yipping or whining, but squeaking.

I didn't want him to get run over, even in our low-traffic area. So I knocked on a few doors. Only two answered, neither recognized the dog. So I took him back to our place. He was pretty stinky and a little dirty, but not like a ratty street dog.

And thus began my long adventure, which Aaron has deemed "The Case of the Found Dog," a la Encyclopedia Brown.

To sum up: First, the dog humped Otto's back repeatedly, and Otto took it like a bitch (sorry for the language, but honestly- Otto tries to act tough, but if he ever went to jail, we know which position he'd take). Then we spent half an hour coaxing the dog into the crate, which required 2 hot dogs, us crawling on our bellies, and a broom;

I then took the 25 pound dog in a crate into an adoption place where they told me to go to the city shelter; lugged him back to the car and to the shelter, where it was determined that he does not have a microchip, and that my options were to leave him there where he could get sick or hurt by another dog, or back to my place; begged the shelter guy to carry the dog back to my car because my arms couldn't take it anymore.

Then I took photos of the dog, made a flyer, got them printed and photocopied (did you know that Kinko's doesn't charge for the first 20 copies of flyers for lost children or animals?), put up flyers at Petco, the shelter and an animal hospital (it was a little satisying to put up "Found Dog" flyers amid all the "Lost Dog" ones); came back and Aaron and I suited up for our quest.

I put on my sneakers and bike helmet, Aaron packed a backpack with the flyers and a stapler. We rode our bikes about a block either way, which was pretty major for me. I hadn't ridden a bike in about 20 years, but had been wanting to, so Aaron bought me a bike for my birthday! It's a Diamondback, but all I really cared about is that it's little and red. I picked it out at the bike shop, where I happily embarrassed myself in front of the staff by proving that the phrase "It's just like riding a bike" is a fallacy.

Six flyers later, we passed by some neighbors; I asked them if they recognized the dog, and sure enough, they said someone around the corner was asking about him. So off we rode, trying to figure out which corner house they meant (I'm not very good at listening to directions). This, I think, is where Aaron made the Encyclopedia Brown reference.

We found the house and there was an older Mexican man sitting in a truck in front of the house. Now I'm no racist, but this is like the second or third guy in our neighborhood that I've seen just sitting in a truck, seemingly going nowhere or waiting for anything. I'm just saying.

As I hopped off my bike, he said very mournfully, "Do you have my dog?" I was all "Yes! I do!" He didn't speak very much English, and when I said "Why wasn't he wearing a collar?" He just looked confused. Then he pointed to the house and I asked "I should talk to your wife?" He goes "No, my wife died. Ask my daughter." As I went to the door, he started talking to Aaron about how his wife died and now his dog was gone. It was all very strange and sad.

Anyhoo, the daughter was there, and she was SO relieved to hear that he was okay. Turns out she took off his collar to groom him, and he wandered away. Apparently they leave him off leash with the door open a lot, but he's never escaped away before. We think he may have been in some kind of male dog heat, which would explain the humiliation that Otto had to endure. His name, we know now, is Toby. And his owner is awfully nice, so that was a happy ending.

And today I took Otto jogging in Balboa Park for the first time. It was so beautiful. Driving to a park seemed like a big investment- I had gotten used to jogging to the park that was two blocks from our old apartment, and that was just a crappy little ghetto park. This one is a proper park, with a lake and everything, and is really only a 5-minute drive. The loop around the park seemed to be about 1.5 miles, so we did two lazy laps and enjoyed the view.

Of course, I kept trying to convince myself that this is still a byproduct of fake suburbaness- after all, it's clearly a manmade lake inside a manmade green area next to a freeway. The purist in me thinks I should see it as a pale imitation of real wildland and all that is good and natural about the world. But honestly, I'm very easy to please. Give me a quaint little New England town where you can see fudge being made through big picture windows; give me thatched roof cottages outside of London; and give me sparkly lakes in the middle of LA, kids bicycling and old people sittingon lawn chairs in the shade, and my heart goes "Awww."

I still think this falls into one of those terms I never really understood- a simulacra: an imitation of something that no longer has an original, or never had an original in the first place. Like Disneyland as an imitation of a perfect American city that never existed. Well, today's suburbs are an imitation of a 1950s America that was never as idylllic as we make it out to be, but it sure is nice to see people out on a sunny day having a good time.

And in other Sarktale news: I turned 31, went to New York, and am having doubts about my career. 'Tis all for now .

We moved!

2007-09-25T07:32:00.000-07:00

It's been a long absence from blogging, but I've just been generally exhausted/overwhelmed and even the idea of blogging seemed like too much work. But now all our stuff is in the new house, so one major battle is over.

I'll post some pictures this week so there's evidence of the disaster zone we currently live in. But there are also some lovely moments too, namely Otto sunbathing in the backyard.

2007-08-18T17:25:00.001-07:00

I'm having a bit of suburban anxiety today. As in, I fear that our future is going to be filled with talk about mortgages, earthquake insurance, dishwashers, and ultimately...after-school activities.

There was a time not too long ago when I thought I would live in the middle of a city forever. I was all, I'd rather have a 2-bedroom apartment in the center of the city than a mansion in the suburbs. Well, right now we have neither. It's more like a small, single-family residence in the sort of 'burbs. For one thing, there's really no center of Los Angeles, and living in Valley will be no different than living Silverlake or Santa Monica...I j just won't have the same street cred.

Here's what Wikipedia has to say about Van Nuys. "Van Nuys is in the heart of the San Fernando Valley and home to about 100,000 people; the main thoroughfare, Van Nuys Boulevard, is noted for its car dealerships."

Oh god, what have we done?

We spent last evening at a friend's house in the serious 'burbs. Lovely time, but it was a scary little glimpse into our potential future. Like gallons of water being used to keep the natural desertland from creeping into the manicured subdivisions kind of scary. Like a future of never having any money, but paying off a giant house equipped with a NASA-worthy barbecue grill and a swimming pool that requires an army to maintain it. That kind of life.

I also just remembered and had to email my best friend and 90210 cohort...Van Nuys was where Andrea Zuckerman lived. She pretended to live with her grandmother in Beverly Hills so that she could get a decent education at West Beverly High. There was a whole episode about it.

In any case, our house is awfully cute and charming. If I ever feel isolated from city life, I'll pretend that it's our little country cottage getaway. Or I'll take the car and drive down the street to Target. Either way, it'll be a whimsical adventure.

2007-08-12T16:10:00.001-07:00

I don't know. I figured since I feel such peace and inner joy when I'm watching Top Chef and Hell's Kitchen, I should watch more Food Network. A whole network dedicated to food? It's a miracle I didn't think of it sooner.

I must say, I'm not terribly impressed with the lineup. The Barefoot Contessa creeps me out, and right now Bobby Flay is on the most convoluted reality show I've ever seen (and that includes Paradise Hotel, which happened in almost real time and they kept changing the rules on a whim). They tricked a fireman into thinking he's on a reality show called "Real Men Cook" or something, but in reality the game is that Bobby Flay can duplicate the fireman's signature recipe. I'm, um, not sure if anyone wins anything on this show.

I haven't blogged in a while due to sheer burn out from the computer and the need to stare at the TV, drooling, during my free time. But the big news is that we bought a house! I know! It's all very exciting, and I'm truly in love with the house. Here are some pics:

The front. It's very Brady Bunch, aka California ranch.

A blurry kitchen:

Living room:

Covered back patio:

Backyard for Otto!

We're both a little nervous about the amount of money being spent- it seems surreal, especially because I'm in major debt for the first time in my life. We're trying to learn how to economize--Aaron became very good at out out of necessity, but since he started earning a good living, he's been loving the fact that we could just buy whatever indulgences without having to think much about it. Food, electronics, whatever.

So we went grocery shopping today, and were very impressed by how much you can save by buying generic and foregoing the lox ($18 a pound!). Next up, I'm going to learn how to clip coupons. It was kind of fun, but I found myself craving uber-expensive items that I've never bought in my life, like pate flecked with black truffles and limbergur cheese. I'm a little concerned over the quality of Hoffy Hot Dogs as opposed to Ballpark Franks. Mmmm...Hoffy Hot Dogs.

2007-07-04T16:50:00.000-07:00

Why didn't anyone tell me?? Hell's Kitchen is awesome. I decided that watching Top Chef once a week isn't nearly enought, and I'm not too enthused about moving into Food Network territory. So I DVRed Hell's Kitchen, and before the credits rolled I knew I would love it.

For one thing, it's an Apprentice-style reality show. So there's even MORE cattiness and drama than Top Chef. And, it's a relief to watch chefs who are as grossed out by innards as I am. The losing team had to eat these gnarly looking plates of tongue, kidneys, stomach lining, etc. On Top Chef, they're all soaking the kidneys in buttermilk and poaching them in white wine and serving them with a sweet onion reduction garnished with shaved fennel. Or something.

And Gordon Ramsay is such an ass. What fun this is!

Why I Suffered from Years of Insecurity

2007-06-23T22:08:00.000-07:00

My brother sent me this picture today.

(I'm the one on the left, the two on the right are old family friends...freaking adorable!) I had just about convinced myself that my weight problems as a child were mostly in my head. And, er, now I realize that those problems resided squarely in my thighs. The word they used on me back then was "sturdy," which was a term that my husband also suffered when he was a less than fit young boy.

I can look at this photo and go awwww, but good god, I hope my kids have it a little easier. At least they'll have the benefit of not living in the '80s, when eyeglasses were purposedly designed to swallow up half your face. And I remember that little sweatshirt with the teddy bears and hearts. I loved that sweatshirt.

A Yuppie Day

2007-06-16T16:59:00.000-07:00

We had a very yuppie day today. I needed to buy a dress for a wedding and Aaron decided that he needs more grown up clothes (flannel can only carry you for 20 years or so, and he's already retired the hoodie). So we went to the mall.

I'll start with the fact that not only did we valet the car, but dropped it off at the car wash that's inside the mall garage. He decided to go for the $35 deluxe wash with spray wax, as opposed to the $59 wash with hand wax. A wise decision I think. Yuppie moment number one (get your car valeted and washed, but don't be ostentatious about your choices.)

Aaron apparently doesn't like department stores, so we braved the "size 0 is average" world of American Eagle, Guess and Banana Republic. Believe me, I never shopped at those stores before...but I have to say that I was impressed by BR. A little overpriced, but good quality. Guess, however, was just silly. All the jeans were in boys' sizes, so I grabbed a 30 and a 31. I asked the girl on the floor if that translated into an 8 and 10, and she just giggled and said "I have no idea!" While I was trying on the clothes I heard her flirting with Aaron. As soon as I came out holding the jeans, she said "They didn't work out?" Um, now how the heck did she know that unless she KNEW that I was going in with the wrong sizes?

Fortunately I have a sense of humor about the size of my ass so I just laughed and said no. Then we went to check out with the stuff Aaron was buying, and the girl at the register flirted with him! I swear to god, I'm not making this up. It was full on giggling and tossing her hair and throwing in a little cologne sample into the bag. I swear, those girls must have thought that I was just his friend helping him shop for the day.

Anyhoo, I was thrilled at Banana Republic because they actually had a ROOM dedicated to petites. I picked up an adorable orange halter dress that was completely overpriced, and was easily convinced into buying it by Aaron. I swear, it might be the most expensive piece of clothing I've ever bought next to my wedding dress. And that was made by a bunch of Indian people in what I imagine to be a sweat shop, so who knows how much that even cost? Yuppie moment number two. (Buy a dress you don't really need because the store is pretty and the employees aren't rude).

I dragged Aaron to Macy's to look for a fancy dress for a wedding. He dutifully sat in the husband chair while I moved as fast as possible to find a dress. It's sort of a good strategy. I couldn't linger while he was pretending to be patient, so I was working completely off instinct of "hate that dress, hate that dress, kind of like that dress but it's not dressy enough, love that dress but I would look fat, a-HA!" I wound up with an awesome dress that Aaron approved of. It's now the second most expensive dress I've ever bought (don't worry, each one was under $150- I'm not that far gone). Still, yuppie activity moment number three. Oh, and out of a store full of amazing prints, I picked a "timeless" black and white piece. That's yuppie moment number four.

At the food court, Aaron ordered sandwiches while I went to Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf to get drinks. No sodas for us on our yuppie day, oh no. And what do I order? A venti mocha. The guy looked at me in complete confusion, and I was all, oh crap, I'm not at Starbucks. I've actually been indoctrinated to refer to sizes as tall, grande and venti. Sigh.

So that was our exciting day. I came home with two wonderful dresses, underwear and socks, so I'm happy as a clam. Now I shall have a glass of chardonnay and try to figure out what other things yuppies do at night. Perhaps Frasier is on.

Addendum:
To complete our yuppie day...our cable was shut off because we forgot to pay the bill for two months. We were immensely grateful that technology allowed us to pay the bill over the phone, withdraw it immediately from our checking account, and it was back up instantly. We also thanked our lucky stars that the high-speed internet wasn't affected. If it had been, we would have noticed a lot faster. And then we ordered in sushi.

More Otto, Less American Idol

2007-06-10T18:26:00.000-07:00

More Otto, less American Idol. Both fans have spoken, and I'm listening.

Well, not much to say about life these days. I'm still working a lot, but see a light at the end of the tunnel. It's gotten to the point that I don't mind that work spills far over into some nights and all weekend. I'm very zen about it, which may have something to do with the fact that I have like no hobbies. The only things I like to do to relax are hang out at home eating and watching TV, and going jogging or to the park with the dog. For some reason, that doesn't feel terribly unhealthy to me.

My new project when this is all over is to buy a house. I figure that's a big enough educational hobby, will be incredibly time consuming and will culminate in something useful. I'm a little nervous to make such a committment, but I figure it's got to happen sooner rather than later.

So enough about me, here's some Otto. I did record some terrible doggie porn- you may remember how the little guy had a thing for humping the bedspread. It progressed onto Aaron's arm, and so I bought him a stuffed toy to take out his emotions. Well, that worked a little too well. Really, really well. To the point that we thought that something was wrong with him. I had to spray him with water to make him stop playing with it. A few days later, I found him in the living room humping the stuffing out of that poor little toy, with the same result. So I videotaped it. I'm a very bad mommy. And if I can figure out how to post it on my public blog, I will.

Oh, and he had fleas, so we put a white flea collar on him. There's no way it could translate onto camera, but I swear he looked like a little priest:

The Dogsercist:

2007-05-28T19:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Anonymous,
Now why on earth would I share pictures of a former flame with an anonymous? Reveal yourself first. Yeesh, it's as bad as Wilson.

My list

2007-05-28T17:30:00.000-07:00

No disrespect to my husband intended, but every couple has their version of a "list." That's a list (sometimes laminated) of the people that you're allowed to stray with, usually consisting of unattainable celebrities so that the likelihood of it happening is statistically low. We've only glossed over our lists, although I'm a little disgruntled that he has Lisa Loeb and Sarah Silverman on his. Not that those aren't awesome choices, but they seem a little too attainable for comfort.

As I'm watching Dirty Jobs while I work (and hubby is napping), I'm inspired to put my list in writing. So here goes...

1. Mike Rowe - host of Dirty Jobs, former opera singer, and looks good both clean and dirty. Yes, I get that he's not all that attractive in a traditional sense. But he's just so...manly.

2. Old-school MacGyver. No need to elaborate here. Although I should point out that he wouldn't be my type in real life--he's a little too outdoorsy for my tastes, and I'm not sure that I could live on a houseboat.

3. Old-school Patrick Swayze, a la Dirty Dancing. I was 12, Baby was 18, and Johnny gave me such hope about the likelihood of dorky teenaged girls snagging incredibly hot men who can dance. Today? Not so much. I don't really like dancing nor am I into muscley guys, but it was an impressionable age so on the list he stays.

4. The one that got away. I know, I know, the list is supposed to be limited to unattainable celebrities. But seriously, this guy was so incredibly cute, so deeply soulful and so, so emotionally unavailable. It's been about 7 years, although I've run into him in NY since then- the first time I hyperventilated, the second time I proudly announced that I was moving to LA with my boyfriend, and the third I almost didn't recognize him except for some deep part of my unconscious stopped him in the middle of a restaurant to say "Do I know you?" I found him on Myspace a while ago, and while he did proposition me (yes, I've still got it!), it's certainly not something that interest me in real life. So while I've definitely moved on (and trust me, there wasn't a whole lot to our relationship to move on from), he was sort of the embodyment of my perfect type back then, so he sticks around in my mind.

5. Hmm, I'm completely out of ideas. And am seriously debating that Patrick Swayze inclusion. I'm sure there are more, just none that are list worthy at the moment. Paul Rudd? Too short. John Cusak? Not aging very well. Barry Manilow? Gay and now resembling an old Jewish woman. I'll have to think about this. Off to watch more Dirty Jobs...Mike Rowe in thigh-high fishing boots...mmmm.

2007-05-14T22:08:00.000-07:00

I don't know that I can really describe my day, but it's worth a shot anyway. I'm in New York, after a far too long absence. I haven't been here since August '05, for my bachelorette party (which is a whole story unto itself). Over the years, my trips to New York grew shorter and shorter, as I crammed in visits to CT to see my family with one or two night stops in the city to see my friends. They would do their best to join together for a night to see me, but the visits got increasingly farther apart and more difficult to arrange.

When I left New York, my gaggle of gals was already starting to fall apart at the seams-- not that we didn't love each other just as much as ever, but a lot of us got boyfriends, and at the same time, we were simply growing up. The nights of going out to drink heavily and look at boys weren't the same anymore. I can only speak for myself, and I was in the midst of a brand new relationship and choosing to spend all of my free time with Aaron, rather than going to bars late at night and talking to the same people about the same things. We were only together for 6 months before he moved to LA and I followed 6 months later, so there was never a time in New York when we didn't have that new relationship. Who knows what might have happened had Aaron and I stayed here. Maybe we would have had that life I've dreamt of, with my best friends and our significant others bonding over dinner parties. But I also know that I was stagnating here, ready to try another place at least for grad school, and the move to LA came at almost the perfect time. Granted, it was a hell of a lot farther away from my family and friends than I had ever expected to go, but it was new, and I've learned that I definitely have itchy feet when it comes to living in new places.

So point being, moving to LA has taken me very, very far away from a city that is familiar to me, full of life and energy. LA definitely has its own vibe, but it's more a place of hidden treasures and energy that needs to be discovered slowly and over time. New York is always in your face and never shy about revealing its best secrets.

I'm here for a whole week. That's longer than, well, maybe ever since I moved away almost 5 years ago. Today was like being plunked down into a maze that you're mostly familiar with, but still full of unexpected turns and twists. I started out on an incredibly long taxi ride from JFK to my brother's place. I've never even flown into JFK from LA. I've always gone to Hartford and taken a bus to NY for a day or two. I slept most of the way, so I didn't get to enjoy that feeling of crossing the distant skyline and entering into the city. In fact, once I got to the apartment I was so tired I couldn't appreciate anything besides the sight of a lovely sofa.

But once I woke up and got myself ready for the day, I think I covered a lifetime. I rediscovered my favorite bagel place across the street. How I could have forgotten about that amazing low fat tuna bagel is beyond me, but I blissfully ate it as I walked down to Union Square. Eating and walking. I've learned to love eating and driving, but had lost the joy of eating and walking. You wouldn't think you could enjoy the food that way, but I loved every bite.

I walked down to Union Square. It's a walk I always loathed when I lived here. Those 14 blocks get very redundant when you do it nearly every day, but today it was good to see which restaurants were still alive and try to remember which ones had disappeared. Union Square Park was teeming with lunchtime crowds enjoying the new sun after a long winter, and the Farmer's Market was going on. If my mother and I hadn't accidentally walked into a Farmer's Market this past weekend in the Ojai Valley (near Santa Barbara) on our mother-daughter getaway, I would be marveling over the beauty of running into an event like this, even though there's a weekly Farmer's Market literally down the street from my apartment in LA that I've never been to.

In the park I sat against a pole. Yes, a pole. It was the only spot available, and it's something I've done many times before. Turns out it was way too bright to see my computer, and at 1 p.m. the work day was slipping by fast. Then I got sprayed by an overzealous gardener behind me, so I looked offended and stalked off to Starbucks, where I paid $10 for 24 hours of internet service. I used about 1 hour. Then I headed way off to the Upper East Side to drop off my co-workers' luggage to their hotel, and very proudly took the bus across town to the West Side to meet my best friend Sarah. I know people who have lived in New York for years and have never taken a bus. Then I did my work in the offices of the Museum of Natural History where Sarah works. Now how many people, even die-hard New Yorkers, get to work inside the Museum of Natural History?

Seeing Sarah was soul satisfying. It literally is one of those friendships that will always be so bonded that it doesn't matter how far apart we are. At the same time, I did feel an overwhelming nostalgia that almost hurt. We used to have so much fun together, and spent every other day together. She slept over my apartment every Wednesday in honor of Beverly Hills 90210, even long after the show was canceled. It turned into our thing-- Wednesday was when we hung out. For a while we made it our cultural activity night, whether it was a play, a flamenco guitar night (yes, that really happened) or seeing some crappy band play in a bar. We can't do that anymore, not just because of the distance, but because I have no patience for listening to crappy music in a bar. Bad plays, yes, music, no.

Sarah and I spent the evening falling right back into our normal rhythms. We worked in the office, we puttered around, we made our way back downtown, and we found a restaurant that was perfectly suited to our appetites (City Crab...sushi and soft-shell crab, mmmm). We shared every dish, just like we always do.

After dinner, I only had to walk a few blocks, where my brother and a lifelong friend were at an afterparty for a movie premiere. Just 9 blocks away and I got to spend a time socializing with my brother without having to plan or arrange anything. I didn't even know it was a party, I just thought it was an Indian restaurant with a hell of a lot of Indians in it. In LA, there's no such thing as an accidental premiere party. If you're getting in the car, you know where you're going. And to see that childhood friend was an extra unexpected surprise. We took the subway uptown together, which was more time than we've ever spent together outside of our families' homes.

From there--yes, it was a busy day--I went all the way back uptown to hang out with my coworkers for a few minutes. After my day remembering my life in New York, it was interesting to be able to bitch and moan about work, something that's part of my LA experience. But it didn't feel strange at all.

Finally, I took a taxi back home. And lo and behold, I had the most amazing cab drive. Ibo, the Turkish pianist/taxi driver. In a 15-minute cab ride, he managed to give me three pearls of wisdom and marital advice, which I immediately texted to Aaron. I can't actually remember all the pearls, but my favorite was definitely "When a camel says he's the biggest camel of all, the elephant appears on the horizon." You had to be there.

There's no way to make this very long story short, or to even sum it up with a point. But I do realize that I'm very grateful to have New York in my blood. And if to really appreciate it means never moving back here again, I'm just fine with that.

2007-04-25T21:16:00.000-07:00

omg, Tom from Myspace was just on American Idol! He's sooooo cute. And yes, I thought he was cute even before he was a gajillionaire. Tom from Myspace!

Okay, I'm having a slight issue with this duet by Celine Dion and a computer projection of Elvis. It's not the uber-creepy idea of this long dead performer sweating his way through a performance of what's essentially a souped up American Bandstand, but the fact that Celine Dion is Canadian. After all, according to Ryan Seacrest, this is...American Idol.

In fact this whole fundraising episode is just very awkward in general. It feels very cobbled together with far too many celebrities with very little to say. Not to mention the fact that they're showing the same footage of starving little children as they did last night (and seriously American Idol, did you really, really have to resort to freezing on a close up shot of a little black boy with a toothy smile and a snot-crusted nose? What is this, 1985?

I should add that it turns out those two times that I voted (Antonella and Sanjaya- I'm a rebel, baby), I wasn't actually voting. I didn't realize until last night that the text messages are for AT&T users only. Whoops. Well, it's for the best. I actually did call in last night for Jordin (I've seriously turned into a person that I don't recognize) but only because it was for charity. Yeah, that's it. Charity.

2007-04-22T00:42:00.000-07:00

Unbeknownst to me, I put our dog in Steelers colors today. I dropped him off at the groomers and stopped by Petco to get him a new name tag. His old tag disappeared at least a couple of weeks ago, and I've been a very bad parent not getting him one earlier but I've had to put most of my life on hold for the past few weeks.

It was disconcerting, because usually his tag would clink clink when he walked. Without it, he would just suddenly appear places. Like he'd be asleep in bed, I'd get up to go to the kitchen, and presto, there he was standing right in front of the sink. I'd go to the bathroom, and there was dog, silently staring at me next to the toilet. So I'm glad he has a new tag- I got him a big one this time, shaped like a bone.

And since I can't go to Petco without stocking up on useless stuff, Otto now has a bag of treats from the clearance bin, a new rope and ball from said bin, and a little yellow and black shirt (not from bin, but only $10). It's the same colors as the Pittsburgh Steelers. Aaron was thrilled when I sent him this photo (he's in New Zealand. Such a jet-setter).

In a fit of exhaustion and self-pity, I also spent $250 in gift cards at Pier One yesterday. Then I spent two hours that I don't have rearranging and tidying the living room, and I'm SO proud at how it looks. It's not perfect, but a hell of a lot better than before. I can't wait to pick up my giant circley red chair from Pier One on Monday. I already have the little matching footstool, and a new lamp.

So I'm very proud to complain that I've been working ridiculous numbers of hours every day. The past month has been hellish in terms of deadlines and paralyzing fear that I can't accomplish everything that I'm supposed to, but it's getting done, slowly but surely. I've been grinding my teeth, clenching and cracking my jaw and biting my nails like a crazy woman (I'm orally fixated). Last night I had my dreaded stress nightmare that my teeth fell out- it was a little different than normal because usually in my dream my teeth are really loose and I start pulling them out. This time, I dreamt that I ground my front teeth down to little nubs and poky bits, and then found a loose tooth and pulled it out. It was really horrific, but waking up is always a big relief.

Fortunately, I do keep reminding myself that it's not like I'm slaving in the coal mines. Lately, my jobs of researching two different books for other people mostly involves sitting on the sofa or in bed, preferably in PJs, just writing, writing and writing. And I make phone calls. As of May I'm going to have to be a slave to office hours again, with just one of the current book projects on top of that. But as long as I never have to work on two books at the same time, ever again, I'll be a happy woman. Lesson learned.

2007-04-18T22:25:00.000-07:00

Aaaaaaaaawwww... Sanjaya. We love you man, we really really do.

Nasally Tinnies

2007-04-17T21:13:00.000-07:00

Okay, just a few notes:

Phil- woo hoo! He's finally shown America what I've seen in him all along. Who knew that I was seeing a country singer? Yay recording contract for Phil!

Jordin- Sweetie darling, that dress is horrific. Skip the orange sacks and show off that curvacious bod. Ooh, that was interesting, Simon just proclaimed that she has a real shot at winning. I was just thinking on the way home that it's about time for me to put in my bet for who's going to win, and by process of elimination and with some radar ducking, I came out with Jordin. My momma has been supporting her and now Simon just did. So, you know, I guess Jordin is going to take it home.

Sadly, I think the Sanjaya train is running out of steam. It's okay though. As much fun as it was for a few weeks, I don't like to see a 17 year old being booed at a baseball game because of all this nonsense. I'd rather he go out with some grace and dignity. Oops, he's wearing bandana on wild moppy hair. So much for that grace and dignity.

Oh and my bro predicts that Chris is out this week. I haven't seen him perform yet (it's a west coast thing) but my fingers are crossed. I'd cross my toes too, but I once heard that cancels out your wish and lord knows we don't want that to happen.

Good god, that was horrible. Not Lakisha, she was fine. I mean, I'm not a huge fan, but whatever. But Jesus, Chris. How anyone has tolerated that whiny voice up till now is beyond me. Yes, yes, I get that people all have different tastes and I am a card carrying member of the Richard Marx fan club, but ugh. I'd be so embarrassed if aliens came down from other planets and saw him as our country's musical representative.

Now this is an interesting twist. Melinda was great, as usual. But I think Simon may have just lengthened her stay by advising her to lose the "Who, me?" expression. And she did, and she looked wonderful! Not to mention awesome hairdo and outfit this week. Hmm, a Melinda/Jordin face off. My money would still be on Jordin because she would have the underdog appeal, and Melinda has that already professional thing going on whereas Jordin has her entire future ahead of her. And she's, er, prettier.

Oh good lord, Blake was horrendous. What are these judges thinking? Horrible horrible. It was like the he and the band were on two entirely different songs.

This week on AI

2007-04-11T22:07:00.000-07:00

I'm in the middle of watching the results show, so I'll share a few thoughts in real time.

They're singing Bailamo. So Chris has this odd thing where his arms stick out really far from his body, like a bodybuilder, except he's not all that big.

I am impressed at how semi-professional all these performances are. I read a lot of snarky blogs (snark? me?) about how awful the group performances can be, but honestly, I can't tell my left foot from my right, and I sort of dance like Elaine on that episode of Seinfeld. So to sing and move around a stage while maneuvering around 10 other people? Impressive.

More compliments. I think Ryan Seacrest is an awesome host. Really, he's like the hardest working guy in the industry (and once known as the hardest working guy in radio), and all that practice pays off. He's has a lovely rapport with the contestants and is good at the off-the-cuff stuff. Poor Brian Dunkleman.

Awww, they just showed a clip of a guy referring to Lakisha as "that big girl wearing the red dress."

Why is Chris so popular? I don't get it. I really, really don't.

Okay, just fast forwarded through some guy who's not J.Lo singing.

Ack, the car commercial is showing morphing faces of the contestants. Creepy weird and wrong. Good song though- Happy Together with lots of morphing head bobbing.

Omg, a video clip of Simon Cowell with small African girls. Now if that's not a sitcom waiting to happen, I don't konw what is. Simon can be like a wealthy bachelor whose hardened heart melts when he's forced to take in a village of small African girls into his mansion and become their foster dad. Perhaps they could break into song every now and then.

Lordy, what if Chris becomes our next American Idol? Granted, I've never given a winner a second thought after they won, but still. What a travesty. If Sanjaya wins, I'll totally buy the CD out of support.

Where on earth is Phil's baby? His wife is in the audience every week. How many brand new moms get to go out twice a week?

I know the loser is already chosen, but I'm thinking that Haley is out. Hey, I was sort of right about Gina last week. Okay, so it was wishful thinking come true.

Ooh, ooh, could Chris be in the bottom three? Oh please oh please... YES!!!

Dammit, he's back on the couch. Well, he dropped to the bottom three, so there is always hope. Let's root that Haley's out since I kind of like Phil.

What the hell is J.Lo wearing? Is it a dress? It is pants with flowy things attached to it? Oh, yes it is just that. How very odd. It's like one of those outfits you see on Project Runway and Tim Gunn says that it's delightful in concept but failed in the execution. Actually, I think that phrase came from The Apprentice. Or Top Chef.

Ahh, and Haley is out. God I'm good.

Top 9

2007-04-03T21:19:00.000-07:00

In deference to the art of procrastination, of which I've done precious little lately due to the fact that I literally don't have TIME to procrastinate, I shall present my thoughts on each of the top 9 of American Idol.

That was fair warning to those of you who don't give a crap. But I need a place to vent, and it's better than texting my brother every time someone sings, seeing as he and my mother are the only people I know who watch the show besides me. I don't get it. There's like a kajillion votes each week. Where are these people and why don't I hang out with them?

Blake Lewis: Now that he's cut out the beatboxing to "focus on the vocals" (okay he didn't actually say that, but you know he's thinking it) I'm over it. After that hot performance of a couple of weeks ago with all that "who's your daddy? cchk cchk ahhh!" rigamarole, he's just gone downhill for me. He reminds me of every other cocky, 5'7" napoleonic "I'm such a badass with a cool vibe" douche I've ever met. How many of those have you met, you ask? Well, I answer, not many, but still...if you're going to be a badass, bring back the beatboxing! Oh, and I hate the way he tilts up his head while he sings.

Phil What's-his-Name: Truly? I really like this guy. If I wasn't sold by his adorable wife giving birth the day he auditioned, the fact that he's like in an army band or some such thing should have nailed it. I like his quirky guy-who-wears-hats persona, and he's got a nice voice...but he's just so goshdarned boring. That said, I haven't been able to get that deep baritone "tobacco rooo-oad" line out of my head since last week.

Phew, this is taking longer than I thought. Okay...

Melinda Doolittle: You'd have to have no soul to dislike this girl. Still, that whole "Really? Me?" attitude is wearing on me, even though I'm 100% confident that she actually means it. She gets this cute little indentation on either side of her nose when she's going full gear into the "Who me?" routine, and it's still a joy to watch, but I think too many consistently good performances can actually work against you.

She's also the winner of the"Same exact face when she was a little kid" award. I should know, I'm the same way:

Gina Glocksen: She's just so...meh. I don't think I'd like her very much in person, but I can't exactly put my finger on it. She's got a weird confidence about herself that isn't totally deserved, like a girl who's not that pretty or has a great personality, but managed to get herself into the popular crowd so she's the nastiest one of the bunch. I don't hate her voice, but I'm always nervous she's going to screw up at any given moment. However, there is something incredible touching about the shots of her cute little mother, who is always gasping in wonder and pride that her baby is up there on stage, so that's something I guess.

Sanjaya Malakar: Sorry folks, but he's my boy. No he can't sing very well, yes he's a little odd, and no, my gaydar is not going off. That means nothing though, because I have the worst gaydar in the world. I'm officially a member of the Vote for Sanjaya movement, because I think it's funny and that he can take it all in stride, and Howard Stern told me to do it. Oops, did I say that out loud? Phew, no I didn't.

Jordin Sparks: With a name like Jordin Sparks, this girl was destined for her own Nickelodeon show. She can sing, and she is an absolutely sparkling joy to see onstage, and god I hope she doesn't lose too much weight when her career blows up into something huge. But honestly, I so see a tween TV show in her near future.

Lakisha Don't Know Her Last Name But it Don't Matter Cuz She's Just Lakisha: Awesome voice, can't argue with that in the least. But I don't know. Early on, after she gave these spectacular attitudey performances, it was like she would up into this beaten down woman. Now she seems to have gained confidence, but it's not growing on me. There's something odd about her, like she could turn on you in an instant and start gnawing at you with those gappy teeth.

Chris Richardson: Up until this week, I really and truly hated this guy. I hate his nasally voice, his cheesy performances, his not very good looking good looks, all of it. This week, though, I thought he actually had --dare I say it --soul. I don't think it'll last though.

Haley Scarnato: Oh I just feel so bad for this girl. She has a lovely cabaret style voice, but after the show she will marry her fiance, move back to the suburbs and never sing again except for the karaoke bar down the street when the crowd convinces her to reenact her 15 minutes and she may develop a little bit of a drinking problem. Either that, or her fiance is going to dump her for stripping down to her bare naughties and shaking her gazongas to get votes, in which case she'll go to a lot of celebrity parties and wind up dating a D-lister and probably develop a little bit of a drinking problem.

My guess for bottom three tomorrow? Phil, Haley and Gina. Out tomorrow? Probably Phil, but should be Haley and I hope is Gina.

2007-03-27T21:39:00.000-07:00

Yeah I texted a vote for Sanjaya. What of it?

2007-03-25T12:55:00.000-07:00

Old Procrasty McCrasterson is rearing her ugly head again. It's been a while since I've seen her. Since I came back from New Zealand and started working again, I haven't done so much freelancing, so these Sunday afternoon procrastination sessions have been much less frequent. .

After getting back from NZ, I totally stopped doing theater reviews, which is a huge burden off my shoulders. For me, the only good thing about being a theater critic was that I could tell people I was a theater critic. I started in New York writing for Backstage.com, and when I moved to LA, I started writing for Backstage West. That had a lot of prestige, so I did it very happily, but then there was a changeover in management. The result was that the two editors who really championed for me were fired and/or forced to resign. The person left was this crotchety middle aged woman who didn't like me very much. From what I heard, she brought back her writer friends who had formerly been banned from writing for the publication, which meant there was no room for an inexperienced young writer with little background in theater.

Luckily I got a regular theater writing gig for a gay men's magazine, which made me feel legit again. I did it for a few years, and got a lot out of it, but it required going to see what was usually not very good theater at least once a week, and every other week I would sit at my computer, paralyzed by the fear that I had absolutely nothing to say about the play. Also, between my former life as a theater publicist and years of writing about plays, I have an enormous basket filled with hundreds of programs, and yet I can count on one hand the number of really good shows I saw.

It was clear that I wasn't cut out to be a theater writer, because I'm really not that into it. I haven't studied it very much, haven't read a lot, and get bored very easily. So it's really been for the best that I stopped being involved. The irony is that now my present life involves travel writing...and I don't travel!

At the moment, I'm heavily researching travel books for two different writers, and I'm about to take on a full-time jobs as managing editor for one of the writer's production companies. This is all good, and I'm thrilled to having finally found a niche, but I still feel like somewhat of a fraud. Yes, I've traveled much more than the average American, and I totally get the importance of experiential travel, to really get a feel of local cultures, flavors and people. So perhaps I'm in a perfectly good place for this role. And I'm a darned good researcher and interviewer, so that's probably what's most important.

But, still, I'm running into the age-old problem, of sitting in front of the computer and feeling like I have nothing of value to say about this topic. It's a frustrating feeling, especially as the clock ticks away and the pile of work doesn't diminish. Fortunately, I've never failed myself in producing something, even it it requires sitting in front of the computer for eight hours straight, checking my email, reading about American Idol and learning recipes for spinach pie. Okay, there was one or two plays where a play sucked so bad that I couldn't even talk about it, and many interviews that were so long that I just couldn't figure out where to begin.

But that's what blogging is for, so perhaps with this I've uncorked the creative flow, and I can start writing for real now. That, or find another cup of coffee and track down Blake Lewis's performance on AI last week on YouTube. Sure, he was singing about a dirty old man wanting to know who's your daddy (seriously, ew) but you have to admit it's kind of a hot song, and coupled with beatboxing that's all "ntz ntz ahhhh" at the end, you get a pretty fantastic performance.

2007-03-18T21:51:00.000-07:00

Our new sofa finally came! It arrived yesterday, and today we spent all morning cleaning various parts of the apartment, dismantling Aaron's old futon and throwing it away (okay he did that part), dismantling my old futon and remantling it in Aaron's office (okay, he did those things too), installing a shelf above my desk (him again) and, um, I scrubbed dog piddle off the carpet and artfully arranged blankets and throw pillows on the new sofa.

It's not quite as comfy and deep as I thought it was- I would blame Jennifer Convertibles for false store displaying, but I also tend to be an impulsive shopper and a wishful thinker. Plus I think it looks awesome in our living room, and that's what's really important. The storage cubes/ottomans are SO cheaply made- the bottoms are nothing more than cardboard. But they look so cute that I don't care.

Otto likes it too:

A lot... (he's sitting on the back, if it's not clear)

On a separate, but Otto-related note, I've created a monster. Sometimes he wanders into the bathroom with one of us, and puts his little front paws on the toilet seat to look inside. So to freak him out one day, I flushed it while he was looking. He went nuts! Barking, staring into the toilet, running around the apartment, barking some more, running back to the toilet to stare into it. It's so adorably funny that I indulged whenever I could. Now, whenever I open the bathroom door, he runs in and looks into the bowl, then looks at me expectantly. If he hears the toilet flush and he's not in the bathroom, he barks wildly and runs around the apartment.

I made it black and white to avoid offending those who don't like to look at other people's piddle:

He looks calm here, but trust me, he's not.

2007-03-07T20:41:00.000-08:00

I'd like to point out that a) those two pictures of shredded coaster were two different piles. When I tried to take a picture of him chewing it up, surrounded by bits of coaster, he looked very guilty and ran away with it in his mouth. He does that a lot, and usually I spritz him with water yelling "Drop it!" It usually works, but only after he's mildly soaked.

b)I just texted a vote for Antonella Barba. I know. That says a lot about my own state of mind right now, although I don't know what it's saying. I've only ever voted on AI once before. That was Ruben Studdard singing "A Whole New World." I didn't get through and never tried again. But honestly, the amount of bashing that girl has taken and yet she still manages to smile through it all.

Otto is sitting very quietly in his crate and I'm not letting him out until bedtime. Call me a mean mommy, but I just gave a sympathy vote to Antonella Barba.

2007-03-07T19:52:00.000-08:00

I swear my dog is crazy. Aaron has been out of town for a couple of days, which means Otto has been home alone during the day. Yesterday the poor pup was alone for 10 hours when I got stuck in traffic coming home.

Unfortunately, the result of him being home alone is that he gets bored. And has pent up energy. So when mommy comes home, it's all "look at me, look at me." I tried yesterday, I really did. I sat on the floor and played tug of war, we had lovely walks, more tug of war. But then I had to do work, and he made sure that I didn't sit down for more than 30 seconds at a time. He nosed into every piece of paper within reach. He barked. He ran around. He nosed more. He chewed up paper. He barked.

I finally stuck him in his crate, where he sat quietly. And then started whining. And whining. And whining. Then the yips started. Then a few barks for good measure.

Tonight it was even worse. He seemed happy when I came home, and we went for a nice walk. I fed him his very expensive, gourmet dog food. Then I had to get on the phone and Aaron's computer for a while, and unbeknownst to me, Otto was sneaking in and stealthily grabbing CD after CD. I went into the living room and found the discs scattered all around, one of which was completely broken and chewed up. A Star Trek video game, which made Aaron moan "Oooohhh nooooo!" when I called and told him.

btw, that freaking Dominoes' commercial? A doorbell rings at the end. Every. Single. Time. Do they not know what doorbells do to dogs?

He was being so naughty and irritating that I decided we needed to go back out for a Dog Whisperer style walk. That means no sniffing, no piddling, short leash, just force him to keep walking in a straight line and focus only the exercise.

That would have been awesome, except that I ordered vegan Thai food for delivery. That's how you know Aaron isn't in town. Vegan Thai. After several minutes of walking, I peeked back in the apartment building and sure enough the delivery guy was inside. I should add that I had a bag of poop in my hand.

So we go inside, Otto still hyper, and he freaks out at the sight of a woman in the hallway and the delivery guy by the door. I had to wrestle his 10 pound body into the apartment, barking all the way (him, not me). I shut him up in a room so I could deal with the delivery guy, and I swear the dog was slamming his body against the door, howling like someone was pulling out his toenails.

Let's keep in mind, that I'm dealing with the delivery guy (who was very young and cool) with a bag of poop in my hands. I did manage to put it down on the table, which was even more unpleasant in theory.

So I took him out for another brisk Dog Whisperer walk. I don't think it worked. When we got back he ate my checkbook and he's currently eating a coaster. Fortunately it's not a coaster that I like.

Something to sit on

2007-03-02T21:40:00.000-08:00

I'm going to buy a sofa. I've been planning this for years, even going so far as to walk through Ikea once about two years ago. I was sort of horrified to see that even Ikea sofas cost about $700, and couldn't really justify spending that sort of money when I had a perfectly good futon at home. It's really quite a nice futon, not one with bars pressing against your butt. Actually, we have one of those too, but it's in Aaron's office.

More recently, I've had the idea of waiting until we buy a place before getting a sofa. Like one big sweeping move into adulthood. But that was when we were planning to move to Texas, where houses are in the realm of possibility. Once we wound up not moving, all those grown up things got put on hold. It was only when we decided to get Otto that we we realized that we were putting things off until later, when there's no reason not to do it now.

Of course it had to go back to Otto. He's just so darned cute though! Once we got him, I learned that you just deal with lifestyle changes, and even at his most annoying, we haven't regretted a moment of it.

So then I saw photos of my friend's new baby (hint: it's chicmommyfinds' baby). She's soooo adorable! Just a perfect little faced baby with a cute little tushie. And the baby was on a sofa. So I figure that even though we're not quite ready to start having babies, the sofa is a good step into grownup-hood, so I'll start with that.

I found what looks like the perfect one on the Pier 1 website. AND I have a gift card that would just cover it. Yay! Unfortunately, it doesn't look like it's available in my zip code for some reason- sneaky bastards- but I'll go there today and check it out.

And random thought here. Has anyone else noticed that the phrase, "I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit" showing up everywhere? It's an awesome line, but didn't it come from the Ben Stiller classic, "Dodgeball"? I just want people to remember where it came from in generations to come.

It really is all about me

2007-02-24T19:50:00.000-08:00

I've finally reached the 21st century and bought something on eBay. Okay, I've bought something once before- an awesome tin can that says Sareka that my brother pointed me to- but that was at least five years ago.

Every time I've gone onto eBay since then, I get overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff. Just so much...stuff. I'm not a big online shopper when it comes to clothes and purses anyway, so I never know what to look for. The only thing I've ever purposely looked up is "Barry Manilow" and "Sarika" to see what pops up. Actually, there is a super cute pairof Nine West sandals out there called "Sarika," but I can't ever find a size six and apparently they're not very comfortable. I shudder to think of the women out there limping back home mumbling "Stupid Sarika" and "I hate these Sarikas."

But yesterday, I came across something even more awesome. A Sarika t-shirt! For a girl who has never been able to get her name on a chintzy magnet, keychain or necklace (a la Carrie Bradshaw), this is pretty exciting. It says Property of Sarika. So I bid. And naturally won. I think I feel an eBay addiction coming on...

A Little Idolry

2007-02-22T21:21:00.000-08:00

I'll try not to go too American Idol heavy, since few people I know are still watching it. Story of my life, really... The Apprentice, Top Chef, Top Design... I know I have terrible taste in television.

But what I don't get is how Simon just referred to one guy as "Just an okay singer." Okay, I mean I get it, because he is. It's second guy who just got booted- and I swear I don't even remember his name even though he's singing at this very moment. He's cheesy, kind of ratty looking and has a very generic wedding singer quality.

So why after putting us through 6 weeks of auditioning did he make it on the show? Usually I just assume the judges see something that I really don't with these singers, or they think that they'd make for good TV. But as far as I could see there was nothing out of the ordinary with this dude, and a lot of others for that matter, so why on earth would they make it over the thousands of auditioners? Surely some of them must have been better than him.

Well, all I'm trying to say really is that I don't get the casting choices in these shows sometimes. I suppose that's actually a good thing.

Who am I becoming?

2007-02-17T22:19:00.000-08:00

I've officially turned into the person I never thought I would be. I don't mean referring to myself as "mommy" and coercing my husband into playing a rousing game of "Who does Otto love more?" Oh no, it's gone far beyond all that.

I bought our dog a sweatshirt.

A blue hoodie with rhinestones, to be exact.

Now in my defense, I must say that he is part chihuahua and they get chilly. And after his near escape the other day, I thought it would be a good idea to put something reflective on his tiny black body. And, um, Aaron and I often wear hoodies and it's really cute to have a matching dog. And they didn't have anything without rhinestones.

Otto also went to the groomer today for what was probably the first time ever. The groomer was a very friendly, capable looking woman who seemed to truly love dogs. But the place seriously looked like a dry cleaners. Actually, it may well have been a dry cleaners at one point. It had the front counter thingy and a window to a big back room filled with dogs in various stages of washing. It was also very loud what with all the running water and barking dogs.

The groomer was very swift in not letting me coddle Otto, reassuring me that he would be just fine. As I left the place, I looked back and realized he was in a crate right by the window- and he saw me walking away! He stared at me with such a confused look on his face that my heart just broke. I really didn't want him to have any weird flashbacks of being left at the shelter. But, as my mom pointed out, I've developed a tendency to put human characteristics on him, so whether or not such flashbacks really exist are beyond my scope of knowledge.

Fortunately there was a Petco nearby where I did some serious guilt shopping. This included a squeaky stuffed cow, as he already tore apart his new sheep. And the hoodie. He loves it. And I love it too. So I'm sticking by it and standing up for the person I've become:

Okay, so he didn't *love* the hoodie at first. It confused him, especially when I put the hood over his head.

But I think he likes it now, don't you?

The groomer put a bow on him. I know, if our dog turns out to be gay it'll be my own fault.

Bad mommy

2007-02-15T20:45:00.000-08:00

I had a real mommy moment tonight. I put Otto's leash on wrong before we went for a walk tonight, and he escaped from it in an intersection. Ack. I meant to take him for a long walk to de-hyper him, but I got home late due to massive traffic. So I guess I just wasn't' paying attention when I put on the collar- it's a Martingale collar which involves all sorts of loops, and I put his head through the wrong one.

We were two blocks from the apartment and I decided not to cross at the intersection because there's no light, and only one side has stop signs. So we headed back toward the apartment and were about to cross- I told him to wait, as I always do at curbs, and suddenly he was in the middle of the street! There was a car approaching him, thank god it was one with a stop sign.

I think I may have frozen, not sure if I should run after him in the street or if that would make him run away further. I screamed his name, he stopped halfway across the street and looked at me. I ran into the street, holding up my hand to the car at the stop sign to KEEP STOPPING, and scooped up my little guy. Oh my lord, I was so scared.

I had a very awkward grip on him, not to mention a bag of poop in my hand, but I kept a tight hold on him until we finally got back inside. So much for our long walk, but whatever. My schmoopie is okay.

Not about my dog's poop

2007-02-09T22:14:00.000-08:00

The only person who comments regularly on my blogs is someone I don't think I know. I've been debating calling out Wilson, since it could be someone I know well, or someone I've never met. The latter sounds like a level of public exposure via blog that I'm not comfortable with.

But Wilson did make an insightful comment that demonstrates that whoever it is probably knows me. Because the question was "Any insight on Anna Nicole?" See, I'm kind of obsessed with pop culture. Not in any disturbing way, I just read two or three gossip blogs on a daily basis, so I'm usually ahead of the game when it comes to knowing what's going on. And loving to hate the Lindsay Lohans and Paris Hiltons of the world because the media tells me to. I know what's going on, I do. I know I'm being manipulated, but I accept that.

So I've vaguely been privvy to the whole DNA scandal over Anna Nicole's baby and the mysterious death of her son. But I'm also mildly obsessed with bad reality TV, so I've actually seen all the episodes of her reality show. I try not to use cliches, but good lord it was such the epitome of the train wreck metaphor. I couldn't look away.

So anyway, when I heard she was dead, I was a little surprised by how involved I got with the media coverage for the past day or so. One blogger put it quite well when he asked in the middle of a post, "Why am I so sad?" Because it is sad, and I think many people are mildly surprised at their own reaction to her death. Public figures have faces, and I suppose we need to associate some kind of personal tie to someone before we can feel realy sympathy. So, you know, it's a sad soap opera that's going to grip the nation for a while, and I'm very curious to see how it all plays out. Still,I feel terrible that a little girl has to be caught up in all of this. It would be nice if we could all be entertained by the saga without any other people having to be hurt, but I don't know if that's possible.

Am I a drama queen?

2007-02-06T08:27:00.000-08:00

Not everyone knows this about me, but I'm actually a petty, envious bitch at lot of the times. I try to keep it inside, but I have jealousy over anyone who has a more successful career than I, and at the rate I'm going, the numbers are piling up.

So last night I had a mild case of "what am I doing, what kind of career am I heading toward, why aren't I more successful at the age of 30." Not so bad, nothing unusual. Then I came home and happened upon an article online that a girl from my high school has written a book! Why is a random new book being written about on headline news? Well, she's written a "Devil Wears Prada"-style tell-all about working for Judith Regan. The kicker is that she sold the book BEFORE the Judith Regan scandal, which means that she's guaranteed to skyrocket to success while still being a nice person!

Yes, as I recall, this girl was a very nice person. Like ridiculously nice. Like the kind of girl you like on sight, that the boys fall in love with and the girls can't hate. I may be projecting a bit, since I didn't actually know her all that well. But I do remember that she came into my high school a little later in the game, like in her sophomore year when I was a junior. One friend (frenemy) of mine was devastated with this girl snagged the lead in the school musical. I was a little in awe when she started dating the senior boy whom I had a crush on years earlier- he's actually kind of a douchebag and seriously I only had a crush on him in 7th grade, but even he's a more successful writer than I am. And, um, oh yeah, she went to Harvard. I went to Tufts which is unofficially known as the dumping ground for students who can't get into Harvard. And now she writes the chick-lit book that I've always dreamed about writing...AFTER an illustrious editing career that involved working in places like Vanity Fair AND Simon and Schuster (where I had my very first, rather short lived, quite unsuccessful first job after college.)

Sigh. I'm wallowing in my own lack of ambition. I know all the wonderful things I have in life, and Aaron even held up the dog as evidence of all the nice things I've achieved. Then I drank most of a bottle of champagne, got into a fight with Aaron and cried on the sofa for a while. Drama queen? Me?

Otto and doughnuts

2007-02-04T20:51:00.000-08:00

I'm proud to say I managed to go another 5 days without sweets. Lots of fruit and yogurt instead. I've decided that no sweets during the week, and indulging over the weekend is a dandy plan for me. Friday night was pancakes again, and Saturday night involved a doughnut and a half (we went out for a fancy dinner and followed it up with an 11:30 p.m. doughnut run. We're classy). And okay, fine, I ate the other half doughnut for breakfast this morning. Mmmm...doughnut.

I weighed myself yesterday and discovered that I'm 5 pounds down from the massively hefty heights I had reached a couple of weeks ago. Whether some of that is water or whatever, I don't really care. At least it's less and not more.

Otto is sleeping next to me. I worry when he sleeps a lot, but then again, I also worry when he's overly hyperactive. I think he just knows that with me it's snuggle time and with Aaron it' s play time.

We brought him to the dog park yesterday after obedience class. I figured he should be socializing as much as possible, and lord knows he could burn off some excess energy. The normal doggie park is full of playful canines, leaping and bounding and chasing balls with abandoned glee. The segregated small doggie park involved about eight dogs about Otto's size, calmly roaming around sniffing each other's butts. There was an inordinate proportion of weiner dogs in the little guy section. Those things are so goshdarned cute. Stubby legs and curiously long noses. Anyhoo, Otto did pretty well with the rest of the dogs. It was surprisingly mellow- he just went along with the butt sniffing and piddling on various parts of the ground.

Omg, I totally forgot to blog about this earlier. It's horrible and an total invasion of Otto's privacy...but he's developed this new habit of... HUMPING THE BEDSPREAD. I swear, every night we go to bed and he goes nuts. He stands up, grabs the edge of the bedspread, starts thrusting his tiny pelvis against it. It's so weird.

Awww... how cute is he?

Cookie monster

2007-01-27T12:01:00.000-08:00

I'm very proud to say that I went (almost) a week eating no sweets at all. After discovering last weekend that I've gained a distressing amount of weight, I realized that my comfort level with food has gotten a little too, er, comfortable. It's nice to finally be able to eat without feeling guilty or weird about it, but it didn't meant that I don't still have an odd relationship with food. As in, I really, really like food.

I came to depend on eating something sweet after every meal, sometimes more than once, plus I'm eating pretty subtantial meals. Most nights I'm happy with a big old bowl of tomato soup, but being married now, I feel more pressure to cook a couple nights a week. That means big bowls of pasta, hunks of meat, crouton-filled salads. These are all good things that I enjoy making and eating, but paired with a night full of cookies, frozen yogurt and candy, it really adds up.

So I've been keeping my meals pretty normal, but ate fruit and yogurt instead of reduced-fat Oreos and mini Reese's peanut butter cups (mmmm)... I have to say, it felt good. Very empowering. It got to the point when I was actually looking forward to eating an orange after dinner. They're as sweet as cookies, but I didn't feel the need to eat six of them.

Last night we got Arby's for dinner (I'm not trying to diet, people), and they had these yummy looking chocolate chunk cookies sitting in a case. I very happily ordered one and it was the perfect ending to the meal. After eating it, I found myself craving more, but I managed to push it off (okay, later I substituted with a few Doritos and an orange, but the point is that I didn't eat more sweets!)

Yeah, okay, so I'm not quite ready to weigh myself again. But at least I'm doing something proacative.

If you're missing Otto posts: I exhausted the heck out of him today by chasing him around with the dreaded vaccuum cleaner, jogging to our obedience class, and then working on training for over an hour. At long last, the little guy is fast asleep, snoring on the sofa, just the way I like him.

Otto likes panties

2007-01-21T18:39:00.000-08:00

So the vet says that Otto has "trust issues." He's very defensive if you mess with him when he's resting, resorting to very aggressive snarls. And by "mess," I simply mean trying to move the little bugger. It doesn't happen too often, since you can usually get him to move by bumping him over or standing up, but if you physically put your hands on him, he growls. We're not exactly sure how to cure this. I mean, trust issues? Who doesn't have trust issues?

We've tried the domination thing, lots of no's, water bottle squirts. Then Aaron discovered the other day that when Otto gets overly excited and wanting to chew on our hands (it's not aggressive, just playful, but a potentially scary thing for people who don't know him), he was able to calm down the dog by petting his head. I also discovered that he liked being tapped on the top of his skull (I was bored).) So last night when he was starting that gutteral little groan that can escalate into a full on snarl attack, Aaron petted him and I tapped his head, and he calmed down. So maybe if we keep trying that, we can teach him that we're not trying to hurt him, or take over his space or anything. Besides, what's space to a 10 pound Chihuahua that sleeps nestled against my butt?

Anyhoo, here are more pictures.

I accidentally got someone's red g-string mixed up in my laundry. Either that or my husband is cheating on me, but honestly, when it comes to stuff getting lost and found in the laundry, the first option is much more likely. Because I'm a big procrastinator, it's been sitting on my dresser for a couple of weeks. I finally threw it on the floor with the intention of bringing it back down to the laundry room, which wasn't very bright of me since Otto takes everything and anything that is on the floor-- socks, shoes, feathers... So with apologies to its rightful owner, I think the panties now belong to Otto.

Considering his rude behaviour when he's sleeping, you'd think he would be all territorial when he's eating. But he's surprisingly polite. His bowls are near the fridge and dishwasher, and if I have to open either one while he's eating, he backs away quite nicely. Anyhoo, I just think he's really cute when he eats. *head down* crunch crunch *head up, mouth open* crunch crunch *head back down* crunch crunch ...

I still haven't found the red-eye (or in this case, demon blue) reduction feature.

2007-01-15T10:24:00.000-08:00

I'm sorry to report that Otto partook in his first revenge poop.

He seems to be getting used to hanging out in his crate. I mean, I trick him in there with treats and then shut the door behind him, but he's stopped whining so pathetically. This time we decided to just skip the crate and close the living room door, and he dropped two loads for us to discover later. Bad dog. When Aaron found it, he was the picture of guilt, standing by the poop with his ears back, staring up sadly. He also knows that when I bring out the can of Woolite that he's been very bad.

Oh well. Dogs and poop seem to go hand in hand. I won't even go into what I had to deal with after the salad incident.

Today we're going to the vet. He's got a lump in his back that's a little scary, so fortunately I was able to get an appointment for this afternoon. Poor little guy. He makes me feel equal and alternate amounts of pure love, irritation and concern.

Training for humans

2007-01-13T14:56:00.000-08:00

We both heard the crunkling sound of plastic coming from the other room, so I went to investigate. Otto somehow managed to tip over the garbage can just enough for my plastic salad container to fall out. The garbage can is still standing, fortunately. There was about a quarter cup of iceburg lettuce, salad dressing, possibly some corn and chicken left in that bowl when I threw it out, and now it's licked spotlessly clean. I can't wait to see how that plays out in our next walk.

So I started obedience school today. I say "I" because dogs didn't attend the first meeting, just the humans. When I walked into the organic pet food store (clearly we live in LA), I was kind of excited to meet other dog owners. It was about 6 women my age and older and one young married guy. I was all, we have a common interest and probably live in the same area, and began envisioning our dogs having play dates and stuff. The slighly older women were quite nice, but unfortunately the two women who looked closest to my age were both kind of nuts.

I get that dog owners are a little overinvolved with their animals, and clearly I'm no exception. Since we got Otto two weeks ago, most of my conversations involve him in some way, and I have to make a concerted effort with my husband to not make him the center of all of our conversations. Plus learning about training methods and dog psychology is a fun hobby- it's an awesome excuse to surf the net and watch the Dog Whisperer.

But seriously, this meeting involved each person talking about their pups and the issues we want to work on. I had to go last, and honestly it took about an hour and a half for five before I went. People can really go on about their dogs. The first woman, in particular, reminded me of a pre-school mom on her first kid. First she kept interrupting the trainer's orientation of what materials we need (i.e a leash and a collar). She needed all sorts of clarification (well, how do I know which brand I need? What material is best?) When asked about her dog, she took up pretty much a solid half hour. Soon after that, she had to leave because she had to relieve the dog's babysitter. Yes, the dog's babysitter. I did enjoy a moment of eye rolling with the woman sitting across from me, but it wasn't quite the environment for me to be all "Dude, that lady's a freak" and have someone else be all "Word." Except I don't actually know anyone who says "Word."

Upon the leader's recommendation, I picked up Otto a bone full of marrow. He's way into it, and pretty much avoided both of us for a long time while he gnawed intently. This was before the salad incident, so like I said, I'm very curious to see how this all manifests in a few hours.

We're also working on our first exercise. Getting him to focus on me when I say his name by holding a treat up to my nose. It worked, but I'm not sure he really got the association.

More pictures

2007-01-09T13:45:00.000-08:00

I'm teaching Otto that his crate is a happy place, but he's not agreeing with me. I would very much like to eat my tomato soup without having a furry creature staring at me intently from my lap, so I'm toughing this one out. He's whining with such fervor that it would be comical if he weren't my dog.

Anyhoo, picture time!

After his butt squeezing trauma:

Have you ever seen anything more pathetic?

Aforementioned play time. Scary, isn't it?

Blue-eyed demon dog:

I'd like to add that he is now sitting quietly in his crate, licking his own tail. Schmoopers.

Dog learnin'

2007-01-08T20:38:00.000-08:00

Learning how to deal with a dog, even one that thinks he's part cat, is a process. Aaron is out of town for a couple of days, so it's my first time hanging out with Otto all by myself. So far so good...I bought him a crate today since he's developed the bad habit of pooping on the floor. Yes, it's as gross as it sounds.

His first poop on the floor--actually, his first three--took place the night he got back from getting his butt glands expressed. I know, it just keeps getting better, right? He was heavily medicated and I guess the drowsiness wore off in the middle of the night. The antibiotics plus whatever else must have done a doozy on his tummy, cuz he just did his business all over the apartment. All over.

Then the next night he made a mess all over our bedroom! It was horrible and upsetting. Not knowing any better, we scolded him, spritzed him with water and gave him a time out in the bathroom. We had his best interests at heart, but we learned soon after that it doesn't help to punish a dog after the fact, because they develop anxiety over the poop itself, not the act (I don't know how much I actually buy that theory, but I do firmly believe that they forget what they do five minutes later). That and spritzing with water is better for stopping growling and barking, and time outs aren't too effective because of that whole short-term memory thing (thanks Kristin).

He was good for one night, but this morning there was lots of business by our dining table. Alas, we figured out that he can't let us know that he needs to go in the middle of the night, because we don't let him in our bedroom and keep the door shut. Doh! I bought him a crate today so he can hang out in the bedroom while staying in his own bed.

Btw, right now he's smushed up against my legs fast asleep. He's tilted in a 45-degree angle.

Right, so this dog stuff takes getting used to. He gets playful several times a day, which usually involves doggie type roughhousing, with lots of snarling and teeth and shaking his head so hard we worry about his tiny little brain. It would scare the crap out of me if Aaron hadn't showed me that the dog won't ever bite down hard enough to hurt. It's pretty impressive- he can stick his hand right in the dog's mouth while the little monster snaps and snarls. Me, I wear a thick winter glove, which he loves to bite on. He also loves his little blue ball with a strap attached- he shakes it in his mouth back and forth with such force that the ball actually whacks him on the head. Again, tiny brain issues.

And he's a champion snuggler, which makes me happy.

Oh yeah, and the reason I think he's part cat, besides the fact that he resembles one, is that he's got a new habit of walking across the back of the futon. I live in fear that he's going to fall right over on his head, thus upsetting that whole cat theory.

See, kind of cat-like:

Introducing Otto

2007-01-04T19:47:00.000-08:00

After years and years of talking, we finally went for it and got a dog. We just love him. We started off by trying to adopt a dog from a woman who seems to rescue them as a side hobby. Noble work, but she was an odd duck, and never seemed too interested talking to us. After a couple of visits, we left feeling dejected. We halfheartedly agreed to stop by the pound on the way home--having been there before, we knew that it's a spot for dogs that are either really big or really old.

I was totally drawn to this little Lhasa apso that looked like a living mop. But next to her was a scrawny black chihuahua that Aaron absolutely fell in love with. Don't get me wrong, I love a good, non-yippy chihuahua, but this guy was a little bigger than I usually like, and SO trembly and jittery. But the mop dog was 10 years old...so sad that older dogs get left behind like that, but for our first pet it didn't seem like a good idea. And the more I looked at the chihuahua, the more I was into him.

So we took the little guy home, and now his name is Otto. He doesn't seem to speak English, as he comes from an Eastern European (or something) family that dropped him off at the shelter the day before. Must have been a traumatic 24 hours for him, but he came home with us.

I know! (his eyes aren't blue, the just photograph that way. It's like canine red eye.)

I took him to the vet this morning and discovered that he has...an infected anal gland. Oh yes. His anal glands got impacted and infected, so they had lance it (all together now, ewwwwwwwww). We finally got him home in the afternoon, all doped up with the pathetic plastic cone around his neck. Poor fella. All he's done tonight is sleep and throw up. Only once, but it was quite nasty. He's back asleep now, so let's hope it all wears off by tomorrow, and his butt heals nicely.

Merry Christmas

2006-12-13T21:43:00.000-08:00

I may not be a religious person, but I absolutely love Christmastime. I try to stick to saying stuff like "Happy Holidays" and "Season's Greetings," but I'm totally okay with all things Christmas.

So in deference to that, we got our very first Christmas tree together. I've always had one growing up, but never thought to get my own. I found a 4.5 foot tall, fake, pre-lit tree. It's tacky Christmas commercialism at its best, and yet it's this soothing, pretty thing in the living room.

Husband assembling the fake tree:

The tree in its entirety. We have a grand total of 5 ornaments now.

I thought it was important to get a pic of the both of us with the tree, but we never figured out how to do the self-timer or self-portrait thingy:

Writing galore

2006-11-28T16:32:00.000-08:00

At long last, one of my travel articles is up and running. This one is a destination guide on Wellington. Pretty straightforward and boring, but it has a cute little picture of me at the end. http://www.gonomad.com/destinations/0611/wellington-nz.html

Next up should be my exploration of gay Melbourne in a print magazine, which will be online as well. I'll add that when it's up.

As for the rest of my writing life, all is chugging along nicely. I've just been hired on a short-term project to edit a book. A real book and a real publishing company and everything. I know! I may or may not be able to pick up some copywriting stuff on the side, and of course will keep busting my hump to keep getting journalismy stuff. It's a neverending battle, but one that can be won. I hope. For now I'm just going to watch Top Chef.

Home is Where my Hat is. And my shoes.

2006-11-19T14:48:00.000-08:00

I'm shameful blogger, I know. If this were my job, I would have been fired long ago.

I've been back home from NZ for almost a week. I haven't blogged much simply because there's not a whole lot going on now that I'm back, although it is very nice to be back where all my stuff is. I've been catching up with friends, finding work and um, watching a lot of TV. I'm in that weird phase where I don't have a lot to do, so I feel awfully guilty for not being productive, but then I feel too lazy to deal with the stuff that I should be productive on. It's not a great place to be, but then again, it's just a transition period so it's not a big deal.

The good news is that I do have a contract job offer, so I have some sort of employment for the next few months. The best part is that it's a project I can do from anywhere, so even if we end up moving for hubby's job, I still have some cash flow. So that's one big stress off my plate, and I can more freely enjoy my days off right now knowing that something is around the corner.

In the meantime, I think my project for the day is to set up a little office area for myself. I have a teensy desk crowded into a corner and surrounded by junk. If I can figure out how to make a cozy little nook for myself, I think I'll be more inclined to work, rather than staring at countless episodes of Wife Swap. Because while Wife Swap is a perfectly entertaining show, it's really at its best when making fun of fundamentalist rednecks, and sometimes I get tired of being meanspirited.

2006-11-11T23:12:00.000-08:00

Surprise, I'm still in Wellington! Okay, that's more of an FYI. I changed my ticket to leave on Monday instead. Leaving on a Friday night just seemed illogical. Although with me being sick and hubby being overworked, we didn't actually make it anywhere on Friday. But Saturday involved dinner out and today proved to be the first real summer-like day since I've been here, so I'm very glad I stuck around.

I always resist change a little bit, even though another part of me welcomes it. I've never been one to stay in one place and I don't feel ready to put down roots. After leaving my hometown for college, I haven't lived in any city for more than 4 years or so, and I feel just fine with that. But it is always hard to leave, proven by the point that it's even hard to leave a city I've only been in for 5 weeks.

It's fun getting to know a city. The other day I ran into someone I knew while walking along with people I had just met, and later that day an elderly woman asked me for directions and I actually knew the answer. That kind of stuff is always a little thrilling.

So tomorrow I plan on having brunch in my favorite cafe that I only just discovered last week...I've developed a taste for fruit salad and toast, and while I know that makes me sound ridiculously healthy, I'm really not one of those people. And I shall read my new books, and then toddle off to the airport. Thankfully, Air New Zealand has an awesome array of on-demand movies, so I'm actually looking forward to the flight. I shall be taking a hefty amount of decongestant though, as the last time I flew with a cold both of my eardrums perforate. And there's an uplifting note to end on. And a preposition.

P.S.

2006-11-08T19:00:00.000-08:00

We got the Senate! We got the Senate!

Sorry, couldn't resist checking the news. In addition to procrastinating, I've been sick for the past two days, so I've been glued to CNN. I finally turned off the TV to get something accomplished and missed out on the final Virgina count.

We got the Senate! We got the Senate!

Procrastination

2006-11-08T17:24:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately for me and my career, when given any sort of responsibility, old Procrasty McPrasterson rears his ugly head. Heck, even the term isn't an original. The whole "McSomething" to make it sound funnier comes straight from Cuteoverload.com. Although some may argue that the roots come from my friend D, who I believe coined the term "Fatty Watty McButterpants," or the more pithy "Fatty McWatty." Both of which are the ideal descriptions of how I feel when my jeans have just come out of the dryer, 5 sizes smaller than when they went in.

So old Procrasty makes it nigh impossible for me to get anything done in an effective manner. Even after I've fought tooth and nail to get freelance assignments to make this New Zealand trip more than just an extended holiday, after I've ranted and raved to my bewildered husband about how I'm better than the money I make and editors just need to give me a chance and I can produce better stuff than the drivel we see in magazines these days because I AM A WRITER dammit! Although, on the other hand, one of the hallmarks of being a writer is to see how long one can stare at a blank page before sheer boredom (and running out of things to look up on the internet) forces you to start typing. Anything.

And while the good news is that I usually manage to get the darned article done on time, even that knowledge makes Procrasty leer nastily and say "See, it'll get done. So....why not just take a quick peek at Myspace to see if anyone has voted on your picture that was taken two years and 10 inches of hair ago? (They have, and I'm still at a friggin' 6.6 out of 10).

The sad part is, I only need to write 400 words today. For reference, this blog is already at 311. It's not a Shakespeare dissertation that I'm avoiding here, it's just the mere fact that it's "work." And now...I've run out of excuses, internet searches and no one has sent me any new emails. I think. I should go check.

Winding Down

2006-11-06T22:29:00.000-08:00

I know, long time, no real blog. But you have to admit, that disapproving bunny is a hoot. I found it on Cuteoverload.com, my favorite website in the world if I haven't already plugged it.

Anyhoo, the past week or so has been a blur of semi-normal life sans real job. This involves going to the gym, visiting a used bookshop almost daily, and wandering around aimlessly. I also met more gay people, a zany non-gay tour operator, and did a voiceover for a video game. That was cool- I played "Pedestrian Babe 2" and "Driver." It involved shouting out many a swear word. Here's hoping that I make the cut and become a faceless voice on Jackass the video game.

The session wasn't that serious. This is a posed shot after the fact, and I didn't know what to do except clutch onto the music stand.

I managed to drag hubby out for a walk over the weekend, leaving behind his precious laptop for a while. We took the cable car up to the botanic gardens, where he had fun commandeering a cannon (he's at work right now, so I feel I should hold off on posting a picture of his face before getting permission. You know, because Sarktales is such a hot blog these days.)

Oh, and since November 5 was Guy Fawkes day, we got to see fireworks over the harbour, which is located conveniently a block away from our apartment. Being that we're in a country of only 4 million people, it was a pleasantly populated, but not overly crowded event with some spectacular fireworks.

It's kind of hard to capture them on film, but it was pretty what with the full moon off to the side and all.

I'm leaving on Friday, which is bumming me out. Especially since our new next door neighbor just invited us to a party that day. Hmph. I'm not sure why I schedule my flight for a Friday as opposed to, say, over the weekend. November 10 just sounded like a nice, rounded date. Oh well, one must return to normal life at some point, whether it's a Friday or Sunday. Have no fear though- I'm sure Sarktales adventures can continue with Los Angeles: The Search for Employment.

On that note, here are some pretty pictures from the Kapiti Coast, where I spent a night last week. The owner has 10, count 'em 10, acres of gorgeous property.

Disapproving Bunny

2006-11-04T19:07:00.000-08:00

These aren't my pics, or my captions. But I was hooting with laughter and wiping away the tears last night when I discovered the "Disapproving Bunny." Just click the link, I urge each and every one of you. Nothing bad will happen, and you may come out of it a greater person.

http://www.birdchick.com/adventures/rabbit/index3.html

Dunedin, sheep, etc.

2006-11-03T14:27:00.000-08:00

In the words of my sister-in-law: comments, people. Comments are a very nice thing on a blog. So get typing and make your voice heard, even if it is to say "wow, a slab of cow thigh bone. Awesome."

In order to inspire discussion, we could make up our own captions to this picture. It's my friend's cat on a very hot day in Berlin:

Now that bit of entertainment is over, let's catch up on my trip photos. Here's a yellow-eyed penguin nesting an egg. It was super cute- penguins come together every year to mate, usually with the same partner. One sits with the egg while the other goes off to get food, then returns and they switch places. That's a 50/50 partnership at its best. Since they're sitting there for 24 hours with the egg, this is one of those moments when he was coming out "to stretch his legs for a bit."

This is me with a hot jacket and sexy hair. If only I had thought to turn my head a little, it would have looked like I was kissing this seal. He's the gray blob that blends in very nicely with the rock.

This is just a view from the ferry. I thought it was a very romantic picture, so I took a bunch, hoping to blow one up and frame it.

Okay, now the sheep... I'm sure I've mentioned before that there are many- nay millions of sheep in New Zealand. About 45 million, which outnumbers humans about 11 to one. I couldn't take my eyes off of them as we drove through the countrysides, and I wished I had more pictures to demonstrate just how many there are. Roaming grassy fields, climbing up mountainsides. Fluffy sheep, shorn sheep. Grown up sheep, baby sheep (lambs?). Running sheep, sleeping sheep, and mostly eating sheep. It's nonstop grazing for those little guys.

Finally on our train trip to Middlemarch, the sheep farming town of 250, I got close enough to some to take pictures. Sort of. They're not very bright creatures, working mostly off instinct, so as soon as I got near, they ran. Fast. So essentially I think the thought process going on here was:

"Munch, munch, munch. Burp." It's all butt shots, except for the one little guy on the right who's all like "Huh?"

I think it was that guy who was the first to shout "RUN!"

"AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!"

"Whatever you do, DON'T LOOK UP!"

Thankfully, even Limpy McLimpins and his trusty lamb managed to escape.

Once we left them alone, I'm sure they promptly forgot that there was any problem and wandered back to the section where we found them.

Down south

2006-10-31T13:44:00.000-08:00

Now for some South Island pics, if you can stand the excitement. We took the ferry to Picton, then drove two hours to Nelson. It's a very cute, very hilly little town. I've heard it likened to Napa, what with the sun and all the vineyards.

Here's a before and after of my pendant and the the bone that it came from. It's a "beef bone," which sounded kind of gross to me, but the guy cleans off all the goop beforehand. The shiny bit on the pendant is a piece of pauha shell, which is very big here.

Here's V looking very industrious:

Mmmm, wine...

Hmm, well that's about it for Nelson, even though we spend 2 1/2 days there. We went for a long drive and had takeaway Thai food one night, which didn't seems very photo worthy. And there was the World of Wearable Art museum, which was amazing (yes, I fell asleep during the film segment- I can't help it), but we weren't allowed to take photos in there. The town got surprisingly quiet in the evenings, despite the many backpackers and local kids running around all day.

Next up is Dunedin, the hilly version of Edinburgh.

Global Starbucks

2006-10-29T19:28:00.000-08:00

As it's nearing summer here, I noticed today that a few people were carrying around cold drinks in Starbucks cups. (Interestingly, it's also October here, so they're promoting pumpkin flavors as well as summer drinks.) I'm a sucker for frozen beverages, so I made a stop at the Starbucks across the street, on my way home from the grocery store/meeting with a Wellington insider (these happened in two different locations). I completely forgot that I actually hate Frappucinos, due to their weird chalky consistency and bitter aftertaste. Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf blended drinks are way superior. When I got my tall, overpriced coffee drink, served by an American girl from Kentucky by way of Manhattan, I remembered that I don't like them. Then I hoped that since I'm in New Zealand, far, far away from the source, it would be a little different, i.e. tasty. Well, I'm here to tell you... New Zealand Frappucinos taste *exactly* like American ones. Like scarily the same. Usually when you're in foreign countries, there's some distinction between flavors in common items like potato chips, chocolate and pizza. But not Starbucks.

Anyhoo, I have more pictures and more important projects that I'm procrastinating on. So here are a few more.

The Waitomo caves. We weren't allowed to take pictures of the glowworm cave, but this cave was also kind of cool:

Just so no one is crushingly disappointed with this next batch of photos, I'll reiterate...I have no pictures of the giant carrot yet. But I will, and I will post. In the meantime, here is an example of why I'm not an outdoorsy person:

But then again, this is why I wish I were a more outdoorsy person:

Picture pages

2006-10-28T21:07:00.000-07:00

Back in Wellington. V and I returned last night and she just left for the airport a few hours ago. Just for a quick rundown, we had a great time during our last couple of days in Dunedin. One day involved a lengthy trip to the Otago Peninsula, where we took a tour to see the local yellow eyed penguins, seals and albatross. It was hugely refreshing and wonderful to be in such a natural environment. After that we went to see a movie called Out of the Blue, which was based on a true story from 16 years ago, when a man from a nearby town called Amaroana snapped and went on a killing spree. He killed 13 people from this tiny seaside village in 22 hours. It was a heartbreaking story, but fascinating to see something so local to where we were. I bought the book based on the occurances, and will finish it over the next day or so. The next day involved a train ride through the Taieri Gorge, a scenic ride to a teensy town of 250 called Middlemarch. V was in a constant state of surprise as I kept falling asleep on the train (not my fault, it's a moving vehicle) and spaced out during the conductor's commentary.

These days in Dunedin were punctuated by us whispering in our room at the B&B because we were so uncomfortable being in someone else's home, some nice conversatiuons with our hippie hosts and daily breakfasts at 8:30 a.m. that V quickly began referring to as the "Bed and Breakfast Regime." Our last day involved the Cadbury factory (NZ branch), a mini-plane ride back to Wellington, a hyperactive, possibly drunk shuttle driver, what may turn out to be my world-famous pickle flavored (dill, actually) spaghetti bolognese, and the return of the drunk shuttle driver to bring V back to the airport this afternoon.

It's really kind of sad. We had a great time traveling together, and though we clearly couldn't do that kind of thing forever, it was one of those really exhilerating, eye-opening experiences that makes me feel like a better person overall. I'm hoping to continue incorporating such travel experience in my life in the future. I've really been lacking in the travel department since going to Europe 10 years ago, forgetting that all it takes is a few dollars, a plane ticket and some time on your hands. Hopefully hubby and I can work out some stuff to make travel a pleasurable thing for him, not a source of business-related stress, so that we can make it a part of our lives.

I have loads of pictures, but I don't want them to be overwhelming, so I'll break them up chronologically over a few separate posts. And you, along with me, can relive some of the highlights over the past two weeks. Sadly, I have no photos of the giant carrot, but when V gets back to the States, she can pass hers on to me for posting...

This is a semi-view of Auckland. The pointy thing in the middle is their Sky Tower, which V and I to this day refer to as the Space Needle.

In the Sky Tower is a glass panel. They swear that it's as safe as standing on the regular floor, but it's still panic inducing to stand on. One of their commercials includes a shot of a little girl jumping up and down on it while her father stands there looking anxious:

They have a "sky jump," which I was too chicken to do at the time. Now I wish I could go back and do it.

Remember how I said Mt. Eden was really freaking windy? That's my sweater that's flying up in the air.

After Auckland was Rotorua. More than a week and one washing cycle later, our clothes still have the faint scent of sulphur. These are some of my favorite pictures from Weiotapu, the "geothermal wonderland." I also likened it to the Earth's butt, where all sorts of inside stuff bubbles and bursts out. But that's just me.

Next up is Maori stuff, the ski resort where the only ATM was a 40 minute drive away, and many pretty views...

Further south

2006-10-25T02:48:00.000-07:00

Free internet, woo hoo! The route to finding a place with free internet was a long and arduous one, but I'm taking full advantage of it now.

So V and I hit Nelson, the sunniest spot in NZ that was decidedly not sunny (at least not until today, the day we left.) But it's an adorable waterfront town with lots of artsy folks and expats. We took a bone carving class with a German guy, and created surprisingly beautiful pendants for ourselves. Seriously, this dude was an example of an excellent teacher, who explained each step, helped each person in the class create unique pieces, and fixed our mistakes while still making us feel like we we instrumental in making the piece. He used to be a guitar maker in Germany which really quite a sexy thing, don't you think?

So that was a fun day in Nelson, followed by meeting a lovely lesbian couple who own a B&B. If I haven't already explained this, I'm doing some research on gay-owned lodgings around NZ for a possible article. This is how I've been meeting completely random people in sections of town I may not have gone to otherwise. It's been interesting. After that, um, hell, I've forgotten. We probably got Thai food, because for some reason that's been our main staple in NZ.

Yes, we did get Thai food. The movie we wanted to see was sold out, so we went for a drive along the coast and then found Thai food. It was one of those odd NZ situations though. It was 8:30 and they were closing up because it had been a slow day, due to the fact that it was after a holiday weekend and "everyone has spent their money." They strongly suggested that we order take out. (I might mention that the night before (we keep tending to eat late), we tried to go to an Italian restaurant. They were having a function, and at first wouldn't seat us, and then relented and gave us a run-down of the menu and what we could order. As in "I have two filets left in the kitchen, I can offer gnocchi but not linguini" etc. This also relates to another anomoly in this country, in which store owners will actually leave their post and put up a sign that says "Back in 10 minutes." Odd.)

Anyhoo, we brought our food home and just chilled out in the nice apartment provided by a lovely gay couple. I met them this morning at their own B&B and they were wonderful people. V and I then had a fabulous lunch at a vineyard, followed by a browse in a glass gallery (my mother would be so happy with this kind of day), and then headed to the airport to go to Dunedin.

It did occur to us today that we didn't have accomodations in Dunedin arranged. This is the kind of pre-planning that one really ought to do. I found what sounded like a nice place in the Lonely Planet, although it was listed in the "budget" section. I've been feeling a lot of guilt over spending too much money, so it seemed reasonable for a one-bedroom. I did, however, forgot to ask questions like "Is there a private bathroom?" Once we got to Dunedin and dropped off by the shuttle, we were faced with a big sign that said "Backpackers Accommodations." This country is filled with backpackers hostels, and they are decidedly not what V and I are comfortable with anymore. Maybe if I were traveling alone, but we've gotten incredibly spoiled with things like decent hotel rooms and car rentals.

So we go to the front door of the address I had, where there is a sign for "Manager," and a girl in a Catholic school uniform. I may add that the Catholic schools here have the longest uniform skirts I've ever seen. She took one look at the backpacks that we're lugging around, and sent us next door, to a different address. We walked in, and were hit by the smell of frying onions. In the communal kitchen. The stoned guy at the front desk didn't have our reservations, and smirked when I asked for the "one bedroom." He took us past the communal bathroom, and the separate communal shower, to a teensy room with two very pink beds. We were out of there before they could ask us our names. What we figured out later was that the first place we had been to was probably the correct place, as described by the Lonely Planet, but we were sent next door to the hostel where we didn't want to be. Confusing, eh?

Of course, what that meant for V and I was that we were stuck in a random tiny city, at 7:30 p.m., with no hotel and big giant backpacks. Finally standing on a street corner calling up hotels, we found a B& that thankfully could take us.

Now, to get to this B&B, it turned out we had to walk about a 3/4 of a mile, more than half of which was uphill. Like way uphill. We werent sure how far we had to go, and about halfway up, when we asked a girl for directions, she said "There's this lump, and then another lump and it's there." V wisely asked "By lump, do you mean the horizon?" Yes. Panting and breathless we arrived at what turned out to be an absolutely adorable B&B run by a very gentle man and his wife, though I haven't met her yet.

I've never stayed at a B&B before, but I've always wanted to because they sound so cute. My husband is not so down with the idea, citing the reason that "You get a bed, and a breakfast...in someone else's house!" I'm stating it on paper now...he's absolutely right. While our room is nice, and I'm excited about croissants and tea tomorrow, and the owner is extremely pleasant AND I have free internet, there is something supremely awkward about being in someone else's house. Like, they live here. They mostly hang out upstairs apparently, but still.

Anyhoo, it's all well and good. Dunedin is sort of a dinky town, but tomorrow I'm meeting more gay B&B owners (and I wonder why everyone thinks I'm gay?), then we're taking a ferry to the Otago peninsula to see penguins, seals and albatrosses. I kn0w, albatrosses. How random.

2006-10-23T22:05:00.000-07:00

See, this is why I can't neglect my blog. Too much goes on during each day for me to remember it all three days later when I get to an internet terminal again. But I'll do my best...

The bungeeing/kiwi viewing/geyser eruption took place in Rotorua, which is on the north island about halfway between Auckland and Wellington. From there V and I drove to the Waitomo Caves, which was just a few hour stop to wander through a cave with lots of stalactites and stalagmites. That was followed by a rather amazing boat ride through the "Glowworm Cave" which, yes, is filled with glowworms. You take a very quiet ride through the cave in complete darkness, and the ceiling is absolutely filled with tiny glowworms. It's like a galaxy up there.

We then drove to the Tongariro National Park, to a town called Whakapapa. If I haven't mentioned it already, everything in NZ is named either something unpronounceably Maori or stuffily British. Like a place called Bleinham or Cheltingham can be located right next to a town called Waikato, Waitomo or Wangarini. It's very confusing.

As it turned out, Whakapapa is a ski resort, for which we were ill prepared. It's springtime here, and there was actually still snow on the mountain, though too high up for us to handle. We had a kind of gross dinner in what turned out to be our "regular" cafe. I say regular only because it was basically one of three places in town to eat, and the only one that was open when we wanted to eat. The next day, we managed go on a two hour hike in the rain. A lot of rain. Very wet rain. We felt virtuous though, and were very happy to sit on our butts for several hours after that in the cafe.

It also turned out that that hotel that we were not staying in was the nice one, with a big comfy lobby and fireplaces and all, so I tried to convince V that we should sit in one spot the rest of the night. She wisely vetoed that idea, so instead we went on the hunt for the world's biggest carrot. Oh yes. There was a nearby town called Ohakune that boasts a structure of a big carrot. It's kind of their thing. I'll post a picture when I can.

The rest of the night was more than pleasant, involved sneaked-in French fries from aforementioned cafe, two bottles of wine (one of which tasted exactly like grapefruit), Scrabbled, rich Kiwis and a lonely Taiwanese man.

The next day we headed back to Wellington. It was a drive that should have taken 4 hours, but somehow between the rain, a slightly scenic route and many, many dangerous mountain roads (avalanches included), it took us 7.5 hours. We basically got home in time to order pizza with hubby, do laundry and repack for the South Island.

But then I learned the lesson about being careful what you wish for. I had been hoping to spend more time in Wellington before we had to take the ferry to the South Island. Well, we weren't aware that we were supposed to arrive 45 minutes before our 8:25 a.m. ferry, so when we got there at 8:15 looking expectantly at the woman at the ticket counter, we were a little shocked to find out that the boat was closed. I guess it's the New Yorker in us, but what the hell? So we sort of hitchhiked back to the apartment- it was only sort of because we were standing in the middle of an industrial ferry area, in the ubiquitous rain, with no taxis nearby, and a kindly old man took pity on us.

We had tickets for the 2 p.m. ferry, and I was looking forward to a little blogging. Alas, there was a massive power outage. So we slept. And it was cold. Then we had lunch with hubby. Then we got on the boat. And it was cold. And we got to Picton, and it was cold and rainy. And we drove, through more mountainous roads sans avalanches. And finally, finally arrived in Nelson, where we are today.

Okay, we're actually going to cheat on our travel mode and go see a movie in a few minutes. Hey, it's a local thing to do and we're seeing An Inconvenient Truth, so we're being good Americans. I'll post pictures this weekend, and next up is the tale of how V and I became master Maori bone carvers. I have a pendant to prove it.

Bungee tales

2006-10-20T18:43:00.000-07:00

Right, so I'm inside that big box 150 feet in the air, hemming and hawing for several minutes, convinced that I could NOT jump off:

Then I found myself no longer on the platform and in this position.

Still falling...

Most definitely upside down:

Okay, I'm down...

Whoa, back up we go!

A few more bounces like that and it was all over.

Next up, the story of a galaxy of glowworms and hiking two hours in the rain...

Guess what I did today...

2006-10-19T02:37:00.000-07:00

If you guessed, seeing a nearly extinct kiwi bird, you would be correct. I couldn't take any pics to prove it, but V and I finally saw the adorable kiwi bird. It was housed behind glass in near pitch black at the Te Pui outdoor museum in Rotorua. It was as cute as I thought it would be, to the point that I whispered, "I wish I could pat his tushie." Kiwis are all fluffy, almost mammalian, and very diligent with poking around with their long beaks.

If you guessed that I saw a geyser shoot 50 feet in the air, you would also be correct. Rotorua is a geothermally charged tourist area, so there's all sorts of bubbling mud pools, crazy multicolored springs and ponds, and geysers. When I can get to my photos, I'll post a few. It's otherwordly in these area, and the whole town smells of sulphur.

If you guessed bathed in an aforementioned mud pool, you would also be correct. We went to a mud spa where we got to wallow in a private mud bath, and now my skin feels all smooth and soft.

And if you guessed bungee jumping...well, you're absolutely right. I did it! I bungeed. It was a scary, scary experience, but entirely worthwhile.

As we drove up, we saw the platform and it didn't seem to high. I should add that this "adventure park," which also included a skydiving simulator and other such activities, also had a farm with sheep, ostriches and cows. Not so intimidating. I was nervous while signing up for the jump, but at that point I had totally decided to just go for it. I was tired of talking about it, thinking about it and imagining it.

Once we started up on that crane though, I was singing a totally different tune. It was just under 150 feet up, and about halfway up I was all "Um, I'm not sure I can do this." Once we were totally up, I said "No, I can't do this." The guy in the cage with me was persistent and wouldn't let me back out. He assured me that he has dealt with others like me, it's perfectly safe, yadda yadda. That doesn't really matter when all of your natural instincts are kicking in and telling you NOT TO JUMP.

Still, he kept prodding me onto the ledge and telling me not to look down. All I could do was look down, and it was sooooo far. I was still saying, "Nope. Sorry. I'm not doing it." And then he was prodding me further out on this teensy ledge, and then I was holding my arms out while he held his hands under my arms, and suddenly people were yelling 3...2...1... and then I remember screaming on the way down.

It was amazing. Once I stopped screaming, I remember being vaguely disappointed that the falling stopped. Then I bounced back up and that was a whole new terror in itself, but it was exciting. Then I just found myself bouncing upside down in the air and getting a real thrill out of it. After a few bounces I was more than ready to come down, and finally they caught me and pulled me down.

And now I want to do it again. I don't know if I will, but coming down was definitely worth the anxiety going up.

The Other Windy City

2006-10-16T22:45:00.000-07:00

We nearly got blown off the top of a volcano today. Okay, not really, but it is hella windy here in Auckland, and the winds grew to monstrous proportions when we were on top of Mt. Eden, an extinct volcano. I'll have photos later to prove it.

This must be a short post, as V and I have to catch a bus to Rotorua in about an hour. But Auckland has been lovely. Well, the weather was crap yesterday when we arrived, so after a bit of walking around we took a long nap. Fortunately when we finally woke up and left the hotel room, it cleared up. Today has been beautiful and sunny, just really, really windy.

Hopefully I'll be able to fill in the cracks later, but today involved lots of walking. We meant to do the harbour to harbour walk from the north end of Auckland to the south. We were defeated pretty early on and wound up taking the bus part way, but that was an experience in itself. Especially when V tried to put coins in the slot where the ticket spits out. The bus driver got a real kick out of that, especially as V and I collapsed into what was probably our 4th set of giggles that day.

Our day also consisted of a) a fried Snickers bar that nearly killed V, b) pumpkin soup in a bread bowl, mmmmm... c) cute college boys giving us directions as we helplessly held out our three city maps (yes, we're aware that we're at least 10 years older than these boys), d) wind...much wind... and e) watching other people jump off the 190-meter Sky Tower (attached to a bungy cord, of course) which is so high up that we got dizzy just from standing on the top floor last night. I may not have it in me to bungy, I realized, but we'll see. Oh yes, and gambling is legal in New Zealand so we lost money rather quickly on the slots. It happens.

Goodbye Wellington

2006-10-15T00:14:00.000-07:00

It hurts to say this, but I may have a few days of non-blogging. I know! But the reason is a good one, as V and I have planned out an action-packed few days. We're not actually sure what our final itinerary is, but it seems like a good one in theory.

To back up a moment, I'm happy to say that I got to witness some rowdiness the other night when I was having the urge. There was a Wellington versus Someone Else in rugby. Again. So the bar was pretty packed with cheering crowds. Or booing, depending on who scored the goal. Since I couldn't really follow the game, we didn't last long as spectactors, but it was fun to see.

V arrived yesterday, so we've been traipsing Wellington and seeing all four sights. Just kidding, Wellington is lovely, but I don't feel the need to show off everything I've taken in over the past couple of weeks. A bus tour, some shopping and a few photos and I feel complete. Oh, and I bought a new pair of sneakers from a store that had three very expert shoe salesmen. Seriously, they took an imprint of my running footstep, then videotaped my feet running on a treadmill. By the end I was so overwhelmed by all the attention that I had to buy a pair.

As for the next week, it should be a busy affair, based on hours of planning, questions and internet research. On Monday (early) morning we're flying to Auckland, where we'll stay until Tuesday night. Then we'll take a bus south to Rotorua, which apparently is filled with geothermal springs and smells like sulfur. On Wednesday we'll tool around Rotorua, check out some touristy Maori cultural stuff and whatever else on on Thursday. On Friday we'll drive to the Waitomo Caves, where we can take a raft into the caves and check out the glow worms. Since I dream of being adventurous, we may do the longer cave tour that involves jumping down a waterfall. A little one. We'll then drive to the Tongariro National Park, and on Saturday, we'll attempt the 7-hour hike from one end to the other. There's volcanoes and other cool sights along that lengthy walk, as long as the weather complies with our travel plans. On Sunday we'll head back to Wellington for a breather and so I can say hello to hubby.

After that is the South Island, but that's a whole other story that we'll deal with next weekend.

Till later, here's a picture of me and V on Mount Victoria, with a pretty view of Wellington. I swear, there is sunshine here sometimes:

Nature Girl I'm Not

2006-10-12T21:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's adventure of the day involved taking the bus (!) to the Karori Wildlife Preserve, which consists of no other wildlife than birds. There are some hints of seeing the elusive kiwi bird, which is a potatoey-looking creature with a long, straw-like beak which is just adorable.
But kiwis are endangered, shy and I think nocturnal so I didn't come across one. Basically I just walked around trying to asborb the fresh air and all the beauty of the plants and trees that sprang up on either side of me. The problem, I discovered, is that I'm just not that much of a nature girl.

Don't get me wrong. I appreciate nature. I think it's lovely and the air smelled sweet and the plants were exotic and there was a picturesque pond. And I discovered that there's a weed or herb or something called a Wandering Jew. But honestly, my whole goal there was to burn off some calories with exercise, get in a little local flavor and be done with it. I'm sort of a "be done with it" kind of person, I realized. It was also incredibly windy at times. Just getting to the reserve meant walking from the bus stop along a sidewalk that dropped off into a cliff on one side, and I was a tad nervous about being blown over. I even called up hubby at work to tell him if I didn't come home that night it was because I fell off a cliff.

Back to the naturey part. So it was lovely and I'm very glad I went, but even at the time I could hear my clunky boots stomping around at way too fast a pace (the same stompiness that apparently has caused more than one person to think I'm a lesbian. Seriously.) I tried to slow down my pace to fully take in all that was around me, and I was rewarded by the sight of two birds cuddled side by side, fast asleep. That was sweet.

But really I wanted to get home and read, which I did after hitting up the grocery store for taco salad ingredients.

Today I decided that I should just keep it city oriented, so I kept it simple. I wandered over to the gym around noon, went to the used bookstore and exchanged one trashy novel for another, and then went back out later where I read aforementioned trashy novel over a leisurely lunch. It was bliss. On the way back I got my eyebrows waxed, which involved a nice conversation with the waxer. She's a Colombian biology teacher who moved to NZ for her husband, and now owns a beauty salon. She was very cool, and I have to say it was nice to have a conversation with someone. I've been a little isolated here, although it has caused my hubby and I to have in-depth conversations more frequently than usual, which is a good thing in itself.

I am excited though, because V, one of my closest friends from New York is coming to visit tomorrow. She'll be here for two weeks, which should give us ample time to travel around the North and South Islands. I haven't spent that long traveling with anyone since backpacking around Europe 10 years ago, so I'm a little nervous that we'll start grating on each other after a while. But we're adults, and we did find each other to be great travel companions on a trip to Puerto Rico years ago. Back then I was a little less interested in sightseeing and generally being active, so I think she'll be pleased with my desire to be more active this time around. One of our favorite shared memories is the time that we took a bus somewhere in Puerto Rico, she got off the bus at our stop, looked back, and realized that I was still sitting in my seat, fast asleep with my sunglasses on. Oh yes, and we still giggle about the doorknob falling off the balcony in our hotel room, but that was one of those "you had to be there" moments.

Well, it's Friday night here in Wellington. I'd like to go out tonight to see some rowdiness, so hopefully hubby is up for it when he gets home from work. However, we also have the latest episode of Battlestar Galactica, which is seriously, seriously tempting.

Food musings

2006-10-10T18:53:00.000-07:00

Well mission accomplished on the drowning out gross sushi memories. My palate was more than pleased with dinner last night. We went to a place called Pravda, which is nothing like my beloved Pravda in New York that served caviar pizza and dirty martinis. But at this place, I feasted on yummy bruschetta, salmon in saffron broth (cooked this time) and decadent chocolate panna cotta and creme brulee which I shared with the boys. And the wine. Oh that New Zealand wine. I don't actually know what we drank, but it was a pinot noir and it was full, rich and delicious.

Of course, I never learn my lesson that wine should stop with dinner, so when we got back, I wound up getting hammered on whatever was remaining in my kitchen. I'm paying the price today. I made myself go to a spinning class which was deadly, and am now very slowly working my way through this awful carrot/apple/beet concoction I got on the way back. It's supposed to cleanse my liver, but all it's doing is sparking my gag reflex.

Just so this post isn't all about food, here are some observations about Wellington:

We're located smack in the middle of the central business district, so I tend to see a lot of business people. But there's a good number of young people wandering about also. Lots of kids in Catholic school uniforms, matched by the same number of punky youths dressed in all black. (Addendum: it took me about 5 days to remember that "punky youths dressed in all black" can also be referred to as goths. God, I'm getting old.)

New Zealanders are very proud to be natural born hippies. Eco-travel, adventure sports and preservation are big here and they're happy to talk all about it. Everyone seems to have gone bungee jumping at least once. Outdoor beauty is a source of national pride.

This isn't New Zealand-specific, but I'm still having a hell of a time dealing with walking on the left. The walking part is fine, but when someone is coming straight at me, my instinct is to veer right, when their instinct is to veer left, and we end up doing that awkward dance on the sidewalk.

The girls here aren't that skinny or stylish, which pleases me. That sounds like a horrible thing to say, but try hanging out with a bunch of locals in Italy and you'll know what I mean. Nothing made me feel squatter or more dowdy than hanging out with those girls. Here, people seem more healthy than anything else. It's a blend of the British strawberries-and-cream complexions combined with outdoorsiness.

There's an astonishing number of cute cafes and CD/DVD stores. I'm not sure how anyone stays in business. There's also a ton of Subways, which is so grossly American, but I love Subway so I can't complain.

Sushi 101

2006-10-09T20:22:00.000-07:00

1. When the sushi place you enter only has one type of fresh fish, walk away. This particular place had only fresh salmon. Otherwise I had the option of canned tuna, smoked chicken (!) and assorted vegetables.
2. When the woman behind the counter doesn't understand the concept of sushi over rice versus rolls, walk away.
3. When the sushi place charges for every blip of wasabi, eensy containers of ginger and soy sauce in little single serving pods and doesn't include chopsticks, walk away.

Me, I chose to do none of these. The salmon that I brough home had a weird, crinkly appearance. It was really really bright orangey pink. It had brownish edges. And it didn't taste like anything. The rice was kind of dry. The soy sauce I bought at the grocery store the other day was kind of thick and sweet. All in all, pretty gross.

I did have a fine day otherwise. I meant to take the bus to the Chocolate Fish Cafe, which is a little place by the water that my tour guide said was a popular getaway cafe for locals. It's popular with locals because it's hard to get to without a car, but I figured the tourism office could explain how to get there. They said take the number 30 bus, and the terminal was located about a 15 minute walk away. When I got there, I realized that the bus wasn't going to show up until 4:15. It was only about one o'clock at that point.

So I gave up and took the cable car up to the botanic gardens. It's quite lovely there, and I did lots of walking up and down hills for a couple of hours that made feel like I got in some good exercise in fresh air. On the way home was the unfortunate sushi decision. But we're going out with some of hubby's coworkers tonight, so hopefully a beer or two will wash away the memory of grody fish.

30 and Counting

2006-10-08T14:42:00.000-07:00

I have to say, day one of being 30 was sort of sucky, but I take full responsibility. Despite the break in bad weather with a lovely Saturday,** I decided it would be a great idea to just lounge around the apartment all day with no concern of being outdoors or exploring. That's always a great idea for about 3 hours, and then I turn into a big ball of sloth with no ability to do anything except stare at the TV. I didn't even have a book to read. I was pretty cranky by the end of the day. It was a silly thing to d0- I can't just sit around when I'm at home, so there's no reason I should be able to do the same while in a brand new city. With less TV, no car and only one friend.

**I would like to clarify that Aaron just pointed out that Saturday wasn't actually nice weather at all. He reminded me that it rained all day. So I feel better about my lazy day.

But most of all what I realized is that I desperately need exercise. Walking around and the occasional climbing steps doesn't really cut it, and I think going from a pretty regular (though not frequent) workout schedule to hardly any at all is getting me down. Plus it's hard to put on a cute outfit and take on the world when all you can think about is the size of your thighs. I honestly haven't thought about the state of my thighs this much since I was in college, and I tell you it's Not Fun to deal with.

So yesterday I took matters into my own hands. I went about town (still not very far as I haven't worked out the bus system here yet) with many missions and goals. Number one was to find a gym, which I did for a relatively reasonable price. I have a friend coming to stay with us in a week to travel with me, so I don't even know if I'll get enough use out of this gym (she says while sitting on the sofa for half the morning) but at this point anything will be worth it.

I also dragged Aaron out for a beer to enjoy the lovely weather and we walked around the city for a while. We passed a jewelry store, so I gave him a lesson on what kind of jewelry Sarika likes. I broke it down into "White stones are always good, dark blue is sometimes good, even red can be good, but green and purple aren't so good." He told me I have expensive tastes, but considering that I didn't even notice the $36,000 ring that he pointed out, I think I'm easy to please. I noted that my engagement ring cost him nothing (it was his mom's) while my wedding ring cost next to nothing because I found it in a thrift shop. Now, I'm not a big jewelry person, but I figure I should start instructing him now before our 10th anniversary sneaks up on us and I end up with a vacuum cleaner.

Well, all this talk about how I need exercise, how happy I am to have found a gym, how exercise cleanses the soul... it's pretty pointless until I actually get off my ass and out there. I'm working on it.

Birthday pics

2006-10-06T15:43:00.000-07:00

Birthday flowers from my thoughtful family. My brother even found a local florist and the card has the word for "daughter" in Maori, "Tamahine."

Here's me standing on Mount Victoria, which has a 360 view of Wellington. It started sleeting around that time:

Wellington home are awfully cute, even though I got a shot of a rather run-down one. Some hilltop homes actually have private trolleys to take them from the bottom of a hill to to their front doors. Otherwise they'd have to walk up 200-300 steps:

The fairy penguins are coming! Only at dawn and dusk, really, but I was lucky enough to see them marching home in Melbourne and it's a darned cute sight.

My birthday presents:

This is what I imagine heaven might look like:

Too Much Information?

2006-10-06T15:03:00.000-07:00

Again, the following paragraph going to be Far Too Much Information for most people, so read cautiously. But it must be expressed, since where the hell else am I going to record such stuff?

I turned 30 yesterday. Actually, I turned 30 today in the States, but it was yesterday in New Zealand. In honor of aging faster than I can keep track of, what did I find? A gray hair. And not on my head. Sigh. The one or two gray hairs on my head showed up a couple of years ago, and while I haven't exactly come to terms with them, I've gotten used to them. But this beauty is in a new location that I wasn't expecting. And I'm not happy with it.

Oh well, again, can't do anything about it. Other than that, my birthday was hella fun. I took a bus tour of Wellington to see parts of the city and all sorts of rocky beaches. We drove by Peter Jackson's house, but Wellingonians are fiercely protective of their only celebrity, so we weren't allowed to take pictures or anything. At night Aaron and I went to the Matterhorn, where apparently the Lord of the Rings stars liked to hang out (again, Wellington is pretty fixated on this). I had lots of drinks and a pretty yummy meal of venison, and then we walked around the city a little bit. We had one more drink in another bar, but the big rugby match was about to start and rowdy crowds were starting to gather (rugby, aka Aussie footy is the other thing New Zealanders are fixated on). I love a good rowdy crowd, but I'm so not interested in sports, so we decided to go home where it's warm.

We stopped by a bookshop on the way home so Aaron could get me some birthday presents. We picked up a game, which turned out to be a dud, but we were intrigued by the title Fact or Crap? We also got DVDs of Moonlighting and Mr. Bean, which were awesome. We also picked up a chocolate mud cake from the grocery store and a bottle of wine (curiously, a Chilean wine was far cheaper than any of the local stuff). So all in all, a lovely night.

Now it's Saturday so I'm going to sit on my butt for a while. Perhaps I'll go for a walk later to check out the Botanic Gardens or something. And then make hamburgers for dinner tonight. Mmm....burgers.

My nails are too long

2006-10-04T20:42:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me is aware that I bite my nails. In an attempt to cut down (get it?), I clip them often, which has turned into its own habit. Since I've been away from home, a couple of my fingernails have started growing and somehow avoided being attacked by my teeth. You would think this is a good thing, but in reality I HATE having longish nails. You see, when they're long, they have a greater chance of getting wet and pliable, and then, ergh, bending BACKWARD. Ewwww... just the image itself elicits a physical reaction in me. I cringe, my arm hair stands straight up and I salivate in a horrible way.

Having just spent 15 minutes scraping off what I could from the stovetop after last night's overflowing pasta water fiasco (Aaron said that I'm the reason that people hate renters), I'm quite fearful for the nails that managed to grow the millimeter past the nail bed. What I'm trying to say is that in my day of mundane activities (mundanity?), cutting my nails is next. So is plucking my eyebrows. It's amazing how the little things slip to the wayside when you're not in your own home.

So my day of mundanity has been quite pleasant. I finally ventured out of the apartment, despite the whistling winds outside. It would be one thing if we were overlooking the moors. Winds are welcome to whistle in moors, but not in the dead center of a city.

I managed to make it around the block, picked up a map of Wellington, and booked a bus tour for tomorrow. I tried to rent a cell phone but was informed by the sole man in the office, who looked a little bit like a toothy badger, that he was the only one "holding down the fort" and he didn't know how to rent a phone. But that the guy who did would be back in an hour. I went back a couple of hours later and the badger said something in a thick accent that may have meant that the renter guy was sick and not coming in at all. I'm not sure, but I was mesmerized by his teeth.

I hate when my errands are thwarted, especially when it took me 15 minutes to find the place- it was on a street, The Terrace, that runs almost parallel to the one that our apartment is on, Lambdon Quay, but at a higher level and there's no perpendicular street connecting the two. You have to go through a building or shopping center and take the elevator up to get to this street. Trust me, figuring that out was no easy task.

The whole time I was outside, I wasn't feeling right. The wind made my face feel dry and it was blowing my hair in a way that I could feel two day's worth of hair products cake on. And I felt fat, which wasn't being helped by wearing three layers of clothing and just-washed jeans. It was one of those moments when you wish you could go home and start all over again...well, guess what? I'm on vacation so I can!

I finally came home, and started my day all over again. I washed my hair, ate a salad, read my book. It was bliss. Then I headed back out with the goal of finding a trash bin for the bathroom. Along the way I had two cups of ridiculously strong trim flat whites (what was "skinny" in Australia is "trim" here) and wandered in many circles.

The weather in Wellington is nuts. One moment it's windy and cloudy, then it's calm and sunny, then windy and sunny, then windy and rainy, then just windy. The sun blinks in and out of existance like a, erm...well, similes were never my strong point.

Anyhoo, I did manage to find a teensy trash bin and... get this, a faux mink blanket. In dark blue! Guess what darling purchase is coming home to Los Angeles to live with Sarika?? The design in the apartment is all very minimalist, complete with white leather furniture. White leather is not a very cushy material, so Aaron has been throwing the bedroom blanket onto the sofa. But I figured dark blue (faux) mink throw is a much classier way to dress up the couch. I may get a second one just for the white leather armchair because it's So. Damned. Cute.

And that's my day thus far. I haven't figured out dinner, but I'm seriously considering talking Aaron into picking up Subway to bring home. I know, so American of me, but I haven't had a good Subway sandwich in forever, and they do make a fine meal. In my day of mundanity, why not?

Picture Time

2006-10-03T21:22:00.000-07:00

I'm in Wellington! At long last, Aaron and I are together again...erm, sitting across from each other on our respective computers. God, we're such geeks. We also played gin rummy. Wellington is freaking cold, windy and rainy today, and it's been pretty flipping cold inside the apartment so I'm pretending that we're on vacation in our country house. I figure I have a month to deal with all the walking, sightseeing and finding article material.

Speaking of article material, I did spend all of Monday walking around Melbourne's gay neighborhoods interviewing gay shop owners. I was hoping to find owners of cool, trendy boutiques, but with that amount of time, all I could do was hit the obvious gay places. So I wound up at two adult shops, a gay bookstore, a gay bar and a gay nightclub. All were fascinating, but unfortunately not very unexpected or innovated. Still, I did hear from a lot of owners that the gay 'hoods are actually on the decline, possibly due to a sluggish winter and/or gay assimilation, which may turn into a rather interesting story, so we'll see.

Rest assured that I've weeded out all majorly unflattering photos of myself. And believe me, there were a'plenty that involved either my tummy poking out from my shirt, my underwear sticking out (damned low-rise jeans on both counts) and just general shots of my ass. Why my relatives took so many photos that involved my ass is beyond me.

I know this may seem like a boring first picture, but look at what's wrong with the moon on this side of the equator:

And not to be Negative Nelly, but look close to see how creepy this apalca's eyes are. They'e clear blue with thick vertical pupils:

This is me with my cousin's husband (in Hindi, he's my jijaji ,but I guess we don't really have a word for that in English. Just cousin, I guess) and their two kids on Apollo Bay (I'm not sure what they are to me in Hindi, but I'm their masi):

This is the Sydney Harbour Bridge that I climbed:

Me on a rock in front of one of the 12 Apostles:

The elusive platypus:

My cousin feeding a 'roo:

And last, but certainly not least...the koala! The lazy, unsociable but awfully adorable koala!

Melbourne Debates

2006-10-01T16:02:00.000-07:00

Warning, the following paragraph is not for the weak hearted:

Why is it that no one ever talks about traveler's constipation? Seriously, it's getting to be a major problem. A whole week and two morning constitutionals to speak of. I'm all bloated and shouldn't put another bite of food in my mouth except that I really enjoy eating. Sigh. Hopefully when I'm in Wellington I can spend a little private time with myself, focusing on nothing else for as long as it takes. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Okay, bad stuff over with. I'm back in Melbourne. My family (cousin, husband and two kids) and I went away for the weekend to take a drive along the Great Ocean Road. One thing about Australia is that there's no shortage of beaches. We took about a 4 hour scenic drive to an area called Apollo Beach, stopping along the way to see more scenic stuff. It was quite scenic. Fortunately the weather held up nicely so we could frolic as one should do in these areas. I'd have to say one of my favorite memories was a simple evening walk along the beach with the family. We had finally arrived in our apartment, had some tea and then had to rouse ourselves from the lure of the warm indoors, cushy sofas and flat-screened TV. Once we finally got our butts onto the beach, it was a lovely time of walking, skipping rocks and taking photographs.

There was that moment of the Great Footy Debate that made me really appreciate family dynamics. The football (Aussie footballs are shaped just like ours) somehow got left behind on the beach, and the kids began arguing over who was responsible for trekking back to get it. It was one of those arguments that's incredibly fun to watch because it's just a battle of wills- will the older one win out because he's older, or will the younger one's stubborness prevail? Having gone through many a similar argument with my older brother growing up, I wasn't surprised when the little one made the long jog back to retrieve the precious footy. And in wonderful maternal fashion, his mom went along with him.

It was a long drive the next day, starting with another continuation along the road to see the famed 12 Apostles. Once again, pictures would be good here, but essentially they're free-standing limestone structures in the ocean that were carved off the cliffside by years of water and wind erosion. They're quite magnificent, and it's fascinating to know that years more erosion will make these structures crumble entirely. It's one of those moments when you begin to understand that whole "blink of an eye" concept from nature's perspective.

The long sleepy drive was notable only for the Great Gay Debate, this one involving me against everyone else in the car about gay adoption. It's one of those situations where you eventually have to agree to disagree, but it's good for me to hone my arguing skills. I can't help it if I think I'm right and everyone else is wrong. I just think if those who have any sort of bias against homosexuality would quickly change their minds if they were as entrenched in the gay community as I am, so it's just one of those situations where education leads to open mindedness. Until you get that exposure of meeting gay parents and the kids of gay families, it's going to seem impossible. I just figure if I can do anything, it's to remove the terms "disgusting" and "unnatural" from their vocabulary. Gay is what it is, and it's not going anywhere.

Our long sleepy drive was followed by a big Indian feast at the in-laws house (not my in-laws, but my cousin's, although I'm sure my mother and sister-in-laws would have thoroughly enjoyed every bite of it). Another gay discussion followed, this time with a couple more supporters on my side. It was unexpected to have debate about gay rights in an elder Indian household, so that was a nice experience.

And now I'm in the city, wasting time away at an internet cafe as I wait for the tourism office to open. Actually it opened 20 minutes ago. I'm going to do some big gay exploration to see if there's anything to write about, and get to know the city a bit along the way. But for right now, I think a stop at a coffeeshop is in order. The term "internet cafe" is used very loosely, as all I can see are two vending machines. But there's no shortage of cute cafes in Melbourne, so I'll make my way to the tourism office with a stop along the way.

Tomorrow I'm leaving for Wellington, so rest assured that photos are on their way to being posted.

Am I jaded?

2006-09-28T04:21:00.000-07:00

Damn, I'm TIRED. I got to my hotel room at 7, read for a bit and then figured I'd close my eyes for a few minutes before going out to dinner. Between 8 and 9, I had to repeatedly wrench myself out of increasingly deeper naps. I told myself all sorts of stuff like "the restaurants are going to close" and "you're messing with your sleep later tonight," but when I'm sleeping, my body pretty much does everything in its power to stay that way. I finally got myself up at 9 with the promise that I could just go downstairs to go online and then bring food back into the room. I've had enough people watching for a lifetime anyway, and what's vacation about if not relaxing with yet another trashy novel in bed?

So I started my day with the Harbour Bridge climb. Actually, my day started by trying to locate the meeting place, which went rather badly. I had the address and a map, but the streets got rather wonky around there and number 5 Cumberland Place was difficult to get to. I made the mistake of actually getting onto the bridge and walking along it until a security guard pointed me in the right direction, which turned out to be about 20 feet past the bridge entrance.

I have to say, the whole climb thing turned out to be rather lame. There was lots of preparation, including climbing into a stinky suit and clipping all sorts of gear and walking up a practice ladder. There was about 12 of us in the group, and our tour guide Doug who fancied himself a comedian until none of us laughed at his jokes. The guy also spent about half the introduction telling us all about himself, where he was from, all the other adventurous activities he does, offering discounted ski lesson rates and later on, a story that went on far too long about how he led the director Peter Weir on a bridge climb and what an honor that was. Oy.

The climb started off scary enough, as we were walking along catwalks several feet in the air. I discovered a new fear of heights, even though they assured us the strenght of the bridge that was built in 1928. I didn't like standing over the traffic and watching it zoom by below my feet. But the climbing part turned out to be basically one ladder, and the rest was rather easy steps and slopes. Nothing terribly strenuous, which was disappointing. And we Kept. On. Stopping. They let groups up 10 minutes apart, so I guess we were waiting for others to clear out, and maybe they feel that for $169 per person, they should stretch out the experience to make it worthwhile. But it was just so ridiculously boring. Take a few steps, stop, listen to Doug reel off incredibly dully commentary. I can't even remember any of it to prove my point. He was pretty knowledgeable about the view we were seeing, which was also pretty spectacular from that height. And he told a few good anecdotes about bridge builders, etc., but then he would try to get all bantery about "Aussie footie" and other such topics that made no sense to anyone but the three Australialians on the trip.

The height was impressive and I stopped being scared once we were up over the water, although that too is referred to as a "no survival zone." Falling from that distance is the equivalent of smacking onto concrete, but we were latched onto the railing and there were a few workers wandering around up there with no security at all so there seemed to be no cause for concern.

So three hours later with a rumbling tummy, I gratefully took off my stinky suit and headed out on a quest for a new book and a pub lunch. That too, took a very long time to find, but long story short, I picked up a trashy Candace Bushnell book and Annie Proulx's (sp?) collection of short stories that includes Brokeback Mountain. Guess which one I'm reading? The pub wound up being perfect- located on George Street (which I know intimately now since it's a main road and connects Darling Harbour, where I'm staying, with Circular Quay where most of the touristy stuff like the bridge and the Sydney Opera House are located. It's about a mile walk between the two and I haven't figured out the public transportation in this area). The pub only served sandwiches until 2:30 and it was 2:15, so I got a yummy grilled ham and cheese with all sorts of funny condiments like tomato relish. And a pint of beer which I think is called Tahooney, but I may be mixing up some letters there.

After much debate in my head (the beauty of traveling alone) I decided it was worth it to figure out how to get to Bondi (pronounced Bond-eye, which I still can't get used to) Beach. I'm not much of a beach person, and I'm definitely jaded from my family having a beach house since I was 8 and now living in Los Angeles. But I've always had this image of surfer dudes on a golden toned Australian beach that I haven't seen matched in Los Angeles, and I figured I'd never get this opportunity again. Good thing adventurous Sark beat out lazy Sark, because Bondi Beach is simply stunning. The Sydney information office was on trusty George Street, and they pointed me toward the public bus that would take me there in about 45 minutes. It was starting to get chilly, so once there, I didn't pressure myself to do anything but what I wanted. And that meant walking along the beach for a few minutes, taking in the dozens of surfer dudes that littered the waves (and boy, are those guys part of that stunning scenary I mentioned a minute ago) and then just read my book/people watched on a cafe patio while drinking a "skinny latte" (my other favorite is a "skinny flat white," which means no foam at all). I was back on the bus within the hour, feeling perfectly satisfied.

Once back on George Street and walking to the hotel, I did a little impulse shopping and picked up yet another- oh jeez, I just realized it's not a hoodie. Okay, I picked up a hoodless sweatshirt jacket. Oh well, it's cute because it's black with a pink color and cuffs and a little crest on the chest. Well, it's either totally cute or incredibly dorky. Plus a shirt and a cheapie necklace, cursing myself for all the money I've spent today but really enjoying the atmosphere. It was chilly out and getting dark, and I was navigating through bustling city crowds, and the whole feeling just reminded me of being in New York again. Cold weather and foot traffic and impulse shopping on the way home aren't part of normal LA life.

So all in all, Sydney seems like a lovely city that I could easily live in, but I'm also very happy to move on and explore other regions now. I look forward to Monday when I can wander around Melbourne's city center, and of course 5 weeks of getting to know Wellington. But for now, I think food and sleep are my primary goals of the night.

Addendum

2006-09-27T05:00:00.000-07:00

Not much later, but $50 poorer...
I had my dinner by the harbo(u)r. I spent a good several minutes walking up and down on street looking at menus, and finally settled on a bar for a glass of wine. It was a tasty shiraz, but once I was done, there wasn't much else to do. So I walked back to the restaurant that had crab ravioli on the menu. Once I read the words "crab ravioli," I was pretty much hooked.

Of course, it was then that I realized that solo travelers don't have it easy. The place was crowded and I wanted to sit outdoors. There was a table for two sitting empty, but the waitress told me it was a 15-20 minute wait and to "just come back." I confirmed the "come back" strategy with another waiter, and sat by the water reading. Thank god for trashy Jeffrey Archer novels. This one has kept me entertained during my free time over two days, and I'm crushed that I'm almost done. I went back into the restaurant about 12 minutes later and got the table that was still sitting empty.

I think I made a mistake getting the crab ravioli in cream sauce, as there was a crab linguini in tomato pesto sauce as well. I know, impossible choice, right? (insert random thought here: I once met a woman named Sophia and she named her PR company Sophia's Choice. Isn't that just terrible?) But I had ravioli in mind, so what the heck? So many questions. And it wound up costing me $33 just for a few measly ravioli because it was actually an appetizer that they made into a larger plate for me, but, you know, whatever. The waiter basically served me my wine, garlic bread and food within 10 minutes, and within 20, I was totally done. So completely done that I lingered over my book just to make the wait time for my table worth it. I dunno. I guess I wasn't totally discriminated, but I certainly didn't feel pampered. I guess having a conversation over dinner tends to eat up some time. Ooh, was that a pun? Sorta.

In any case, I gave up on making my time worth it, because I figured that was all in my own head. And I stopped by the convenience store where I picked up my newly coveted cookie dough Kit Kat. Yes, you read that correctly. As soon as I finish this one last glass of wine (a hotel bar chardonnay...not bad), I shall finish aforementioned trashy novel and majorly trashy Kit Kat and be asleep before anyone can even read this blog.

A Sydney Day

2006-09-27T02:34:00.000-07:00

Yay hotel internet! Okay, I'm paying 10 Australian cents a minute, but at least I have internet access that isn't monitered by other people's internationally recognized companies. I would be awfully embarrassed if my cousin got canned because her work tracked me Googling "gay Melbourne."

So I'm in Sydney. I've had a wonderful day so far, and I'm about to get myself a glass of wine which can only make it more wonderful. I've come to terms with the fact that I've completely lost touch with the value of the dollar (as I just inserted another dollar coin into the internet terminal) so I'm going to take myself out for an obscenely expensive dinner. Well, maybe not obscene, but certainly not frugal. I've completely lost track of what I've spent as of late. This morning at the airport in Melbourne, I realized my watch battery had died. So I bought a new ($20) watch. Then I bought a plug adaptor so I can finally turn on my own computer and charge up my Game Boy, which I'm sure will delight my little cousin to no end.

Add on a harbour cruise, a ticket to the zoo, foodstuff and what I hope will be a yummy dinner, perhaps involving some sort of crab, and there I've spent more money than I can fathom. But it's all been worth it. The Sydney harbour is just gorgeous and the zoo...oh the zoo. I mean, I know I just saw all those animals yesterday, and really, once you've seen one koala hanging off a tree ignoring you, you've seen them all. But there's such a difference in seeing them in what at least masquerades as a natural environment. I have dozens of what I imagine to be the most amazing pictures from today. An d I maintain that there's just no way anyone could ever doubt evolution after watching a family of gorillas chilling out. There was a big breasted momma nursing and snuggling with her tiny baby, whle daddy sat against the wall obliviously chewing on some leaves and two older kids took turns knocking each other off a hammock.

Tomorrow I'm going to climb the Harbour Bridge, which promises to be a 3.5 hour excursion, although I think only one of those hours involves climbing up. There's an orientation and of course, one has to get back down. The bridge is huge so I'm a little apprehensive of a) falling off and b) my kneecaps. But since I'm only now just easing myself into being an adventurous traveler, I figure this is a good way to start. I realized today that this is really the first time I've ever traveled to a city on my own with no purpose except to learn about that city. No school, not work, no companions. Just me and my recently developed ability to read a map.

I promise pictures soon. Once I can hook up my camera to my computer and my computer to the net, I should be all set. And then all those who have asked can see my lesbian-ish hair. It's getting longer, and a 45-minute harbour cruise did wonders to the styling that most hairdressers can only dream of creating.

Okay, off to find the perfect pinot in the ideal setting. More tomorrow.

Aussie Power

2006-09-26T05:51:00.000-07:00

I haven't been eaten by a dingo. In fact, I petted a dingo today. My email access is sporadic so I may not have a chance to really sit down and write about my adventures until a bit later. But rest assured, Gentle Reader, I am in Melbourne, which is strangely similar to Los Angeles. Today involved catching sight of all the Aussie animals that have captivated my imagination for years. Just think of Australian-only animals and how oddly they evolved because of their isolation from the rest of the world. If the platypus doesn't prove that god has a sense of humor, I don't know what does.

So long story short, today I fed kangaroos, pet a dingo, saw a koala scratching its head which was freaking adorable, and got creeped out by tasmanian devils. At night I sat on a beach and watch teensy weensy fairy penguins march from the ocean up the beach to their nesting areas. I'll deal with the details later, but while it wasn't exactly as much as everyone made it out to be, it was worth it afterward to walk alongside the trail where the penguins were waddling along to their beds.

Okay, freaking exhausted and I'm heading to Sydney tomorrow for a couple of days. I promise I'll be more detail-ful in later posts. And pictures. Lots of pictures.

2006-09-23T14:38:00.000-07:00

Damn, swallowed up by blogger my last post was. I was trying to figure out how to add a picture.

Well, long story short: luxuriating in my last alone time for a while, with my trusty tomato soup and TV. I'm currently watching Child Stars on A&E. At least it's not on E! They're doing it intellectual-style by having former child stars sit in a round table. There's Laura, Wally, Tootie, Darlene and some really old people I've never heard of except in these kind of specials.

Had my last improv show last night. They're so awesome, I do love my group. Here's our new poster- this is what cause me hella issues in my last post, so let's see how this goes:

Huh, well, not exactly where I thought it would be placed, but that's cool.

I got sort of hit on at the gym today. I was already showered and dressed and had returned to put a hold on my membership, so I wasn't a total mess, but pretty darned close. The dude was all over it. I was mostly surprised since I was wearing a hat to cover up the ridiculousness that my hair is today and we were just discussing how to get rid of my arm flab. It's nice to know I've still got it, even with a wedding ring and a lesbian-ish haircut.

Almost there...

2006-09-22T16:48:00.000-07:00

Whew, I'm tired today. Errands and social obligations leave little space for alone time. Yesterday only involved a few errands, and the rest of the day was spent slothing around with my husband who was preparing for his own flight to New Zealand. He was in a stressed-out mode that involved much questioning of his career and choices, so as Faithful Wife I listened, sympathized and offered my opinions. It's a tough thing, relationships. You have to learn when the other is simply venting or needing a legitimate feedback or requiring whack in the head. I usually save the last for dire situations but sometimes it adds a little levity to the situation.

But now he's off, and hopefully has reached Wellington safe and sound. I hope he can spend the rest of the weekend re-acclimating and avoiding work. This is the third time he's flown to New Zealand in three months, so I can see why he's over it. Me, I'm all sorts of excited.

I'm down to just a couple more errands, my last improv show tonight and thinking about packing. Everyone I talk to asks if I'm packed yet. I never pack in advance because then I can't find my stuff. I figure whatever I wear here is what I'll be wearing in Australia/New Zealand, so I already know what to pack. Is that weird? People have been looking at me like I'm insane when I say I'm a)not packed and b)not stressed.

The good news is that I now have four publications interested in articles while I'm traveling. Two gay print, one non-gay web, and most excitingly, one non-gay, travel-oriented print. Having worked for a well-known travel journalist has been a huge help in getting editors to actually give me a chance, and it's given me renewed vigor to pursue a freelance career. Since my husband's jobs requires the utmost flexibility from me, I need to develop a career that can move with me. Plus I work well when I'm at home in my PJs. Go figure.

Being Productive is Overrated

2006-09-20T10:46:00.000-07:00

I think that my productivity levels are inversely proportionate to the amount of time I have off. The past two days have been a flurry of phone calls, meeting, socializing and shopping. Yesterday I managed to drive to nearly every corner of LA, and then spent two hours and $118 at Target, purchasing various sundries and continuing my ever-lasting search for the perfect pair of travel pants.

Last night, however, ended up with an oddball mix of alcohol and foodstuffs that are now causing me to sit on the sofa staring at Leave it to Beaver, wondering what else is on but not having the energy to start flipping channels. My dinner with a friend last night involved some lovely French-Asian tapas, although I can't say I understand what is so French or Asian about beets with shaved cheese, lamb with shaved cheese or ravioli filled with salmon mousse. I'll buy the fusion aspect, but not so much on the actual nationalities. In any case, I drank two glasses of a very lovely wine. Then we followed it up at a bar with my husband and his friends, who were already well into their night. Apparently my husband was on a mission to find the gayest drinks possible, so I found myself sipping a Sex on the Beach and a Mai Tai where the citrus levels are as high as the sheer drinkability factor.

We walked home, being the responsible adults that we are, and made a pit stop at 7/11 for their all-American, non-fusion hot dogs. It was a mistake, I know, but my defenses were down. And boy oh boy are those hot dogs tasty. But as a result, today I feel like my insides have been pickled and preserved. A few more minutes on the sofa to recover, that's all I need. And maybe some banana chocolate chip bread. Or a yogurt smoothie. Mmm, yes.

Uh oh, Beaver has a new pet frog and his mom wants to get rid of it. Must see how this is going to resolve itself in 22 minutes.

Unemployment

2006-09-18T10:07:00.000-07:00

It's day one of unemployment. I haven't been unemployed...like, ever. In both of my major job changes, I left one company on a Tuesday and began the new one on Wednesday. The only time I've ever been out of work was when I first moved to LA, and even then I found myself in an employment agency the day after I arrived. So basically, since graduating college, I've either always worked or been looking for work.

I"m taking a week off before going to Australia so I can deal with little things like canceling subscriptions, dealing with inexplicable charges from Verizon for DSL equipment that I totally returned (albeit 2 months late, but still, I returned it) and trying to arrange for at least a couple of potential magazine articles while I'm traveling. That last one is really difficult and I don't really know what I'm doing, but the Verizon argument is actually the one thing that I've been putting off forever.

Part of me wishes I had forgotten that I don't have to work, so I could have woken up, gotten dressed, walked out the front door and then turned around and gone back to sleep. Because that's pretty much the scenario that played in my head every day I've ever gone to work. But instead I woke up at 9:30, giggled like a girl who's all a'twitter and rolled back over for a few more snoozy minutes.

Welcome

2006-09-17T15:32:00.000-07:00

Rest in peace old diary and long live the blog. I'm fortunate enough to be doing some traveling over the next few weeks into Australia and New Zealand, so I figure why not chronicle my tales? And in the meantime, why not indulge in my need for attention and let other people read about me? And thus, a Sarktales is born.