Sleep Hammering

Last night my husband and I were cozily and soundly asleep in our soft, warm, comforting, womb-like bed when I was awakened by the sound of hammering outside. It must have been the city working on a water main or something. It was loud--and it sounded like a metal hammer striking an anvil over and over.
It was annoying, so I was trying to get comfortable so I could fall back asleep. I turned over, and to my amazement and utter surprise, my husband was lying on his back, and dutifully "hammering" the air in perfect time with the hammer noise from outside, using some kind of invisible hammer that was in his right hand.
I am not lying. I am not making this up. And I was not dreaming.
I laughed so hard, I almost peed the bed. And he just kept hammering on...

Spicy Boots

I MAY be going through a phase.

Story Time with Erin

This is a truthful story told without any exaggeration as none is needed.

On Saturday I left job #2 and decided that I needed to go to Zambroz to buy a new journal which I did. As I was driving away from Zambroz going north on Broadway I got to the intersection right by the big cathedral. The light changed right as I arrived at the intersection. I had to make a choice: run the red light or stop very quickly.

As cops in this town tend to be very fond of catching red-light-runners, and because I could hear the voice of my friend Matt in my head chewing me out for running a red light, I chose to slam on the breaks.

This action kept me from going through the intersection, but I also ended up having the nose of my car just slightly, ever so slightly, by maybe half a foot, into the crosswalk.

I had no choice. I had to stop. And I also couldn't back up as there were cars behind me. I know that I shouldn't have been obstructing the crosswalk, but at that point I couldn't do anything about it.

All of a sudden an old man appears out of nowhere, walking with a cane. I can see that he is going to use the crosswalk to cross the street in front of my car. Now, keep in mind that the crosswalks in downtown are at least 12 feet wide, and this guy had PLENTY of room to get around the tiny tip of my car that was jutting into his walkway.

Well, he didn't see it that way at all.

"Can't you see there's a crosswalk here you bitch!" profanity, swearing, profanity, mumbling, etc.
But then, he starts beating on my car with his cane (guess he didn't need it that badly) whilst he is chewing me out. And I mean beating. He is hitting my car hood and front tires and bumper as hard as he can (which granted isn't all that hard, but still) with his cane, over and over.
This lasted through the entirety of the red light, and he is still swearing at me.
I was so mad I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, all I could do was stare in amazement at this hopelessly bitter old man.
I guess he finally got his victim mentality out of his system for the moment because right as the light changed green, he continued across the crosswalk (easily, I might add) all the while swearing.
I was so mad, I had half a mind to find that guy and chew him out for being so ridiculous. Would he rather I sped through the intersection, through the red light, through the "walk" sign and hit him (maybe I should have)!
I guess this is what a life of bitterness and victim mentality will get you.
May none of us ever end up as bitterly bitter as this bitter, old bastard.
My car is fine, by the way. I guess it is good that it 1) is made out of plastic and 2) that it wasn't too cold and 3) that the old man had no strength since his anger is evidently killing him.

Rodeo queen

Scenario: holiday party with prize incentives. Dress in western theme. I transformed into a Rodeo Queen. I probably should have won the contest, but someone else with more "friends" i.e. people in their department, got more cheers than I did.

I suppose that means I didn't win the pageant. Runner up gets a scholarship.....or some trail mix.

I take requests (eventually)

Blue Hair

Hello and happy haircut to me. Last night was by bi-annual hair cut and color excursion to Salon Why? As usual, it was an adventure, and as usual, I did something unruly.
So, Salon Why is on the 7th floor of an old building downtown overlooking the city. The Salon is a one-girl start-up sort of place with lots of punky pizzazz. Most of the stylist that work there have bright pink, blue, green, or red hair, lots of piercings and tattos, and lots of......color, otherwise. And they are a lot of fun and aren't afraid to say what they think about things, so I like this place. My stylist's name is Kristi. Her nickname is "KY". Yup. All of this is giving you a picture of the salon.
Also picture said salon in the midst of a renovation with walls knocked down, buckets of paint and rollers sitting around drying out, lots of sheet rock dust, and lots of hip-hop/techno music blaring loudly. While the stylist waits for your hair to turn color, she is rolling a bright orange color on the wall and smoking a cigarette that is just barely dangling from her lips.
You know, run of the mill salon stuff.
I love this place. It's an adventure. It's not somewhere you go expecting a "spa" experience, but it is interesting.
So, Kristi is starting to examine the mess that is my depressing mop of mousy hair. I am showing her picture and she is mixing the Frenchy-brown color (ala Audrey Tatou in Amelie) when I say to her "Can I have some blue?"
Ergo I now have blue streaks in my hair. They are underneath the outermost crust of locks, so they can be easily concealed for my working life, but easily revealed for my real life (notice I do not equate my working life with my real life....but that is for another blog).
Also, KY is a genuis and was finally able to give me the choppy, short bangs I have been begging for from all of my stylists for the past five years which no one has successfully given me.
I am in love with my hair.
So, I guess that makes me conceited and this blog shallow.
But I still have blue streaks in my hair. I kind of look like the my-little-ponies with the streaks in their manes. And even my boss, Dan, said to me this morning "Cool hair!" leading me to believe he is not going to call HR on my a**.
IN other news, today has been a frustrating day at work dealing with The Maths and the Incompatible Programs. A normal Tuesday. tuesdays seem to be wraught with problems of these varieties.
Thusly I made an excursion today to Yuki Hana to eat lunchboxes with an associate of mine from an appraisal company. I did well in that I did not eat all of my food--only half of it--and am saving the other half for tonight. And I put my chopsticks down between every bite. This is part of Operation Cellulite Removal that I hope to complete somewhere around the time of our next bellydance show--coming up very quickly!
Last weekend I learned how to mix a martini. And then I made a chocolate martini for myself. It is nowhere near as difficult as it looks to do. I think the toughest thing about making a martini is not breaking the delicate martini glass whence you wash it.
Billy and I have been taking the opportunity of the beginning of a new year and the perspective of some shared vacation time to discuss the future. And what has been discussed has been weighty and intense. I will expect to see some large changes in our lives within the next two to three years or so--partly brought upon by the Paying off of the Debts and partly brought on by Needing Some Huge Scenery Changes. For now, we are content to know that we are in the planning stages of this new adventure, and we are doing much reading and researching and scrimping and saving in order to make it happen. I won't tell you what it is for now. [No, it is not having babies.]
Speaking of babies, we had a Martini baby shower last weekend for the Humlet. She is growing up very quickly. She did not partake of a martini, but her parents did (and they deserved it)! Congrats again to Jason & Becky on making a perfect little human.
That is all for now. I apologize for the stream of consciousness today, but i have been told that a blog is better than no blog because some of you insane people actually check this site every day to see what I have written. This is both humbling and horrifying. :-)
Many happy returns!