Virtual Hyperbole

Today is my birthday. I was exactly 36 years old as of 3:16am EST. Thanks Mom & Dad!! Check this out ... I find it fascinating, considering my posts (& comments) of the last week: for December 28th, 2006: Your sins are pretty mild, Capricorn. Still, you have from time to time violated some of your own highest standards; you have on occasion failed to live with impeccable ethical integrity. That's the bad news. The good news is that in 2007 you will have the best chance ever to atone for past mistakes. If done well, your corrective actions will win you a permanent vacation from the hell that those mistakes have sometimes trapped you in. => from Rob Brezsny's Free Will Astrology

STATS 17-Oct 2006 22-Nov 2006 23-Dec 2006 Weight 166 lbs. 166 lbs. 162 lbs. Body Fat 34.5% 33.5% 31% Fat Mass / Lean Mass 57 lbs. / 109 lbs. 55.5 lbs. / 110.5 lbs. 50 lbs / 112 lbs. TESTS 17-Oct 2006 22-Nov 2006 23-Dec 2006 Sit & Reach 9” 1’2” 1'3” Sit-ups 20 28 32 Push-ups 15 26 33 Pull-ups 15 29 23 T-test 14.97 seconds 14.22 seconds 13.62 seconds Plank 59 seconds 1 min. 22 sec. 1 min. 45 sec. Hooray me! Everything was improved ... EXCEPT for the pull-ups. Why was that number worse than last month? I don't know. I'm going to arbitrarily blame it on the socks I was wearing. New guidelines for me this month: =>Only one "sweet" every 3rd day (which equals = any empty calorie treat, not necessarily only sweets). =>At least 64 oz. of water every day. =>When I drink alcohol, only consume 1 drink per evening. (Who's got the best pour in the city? I'll start going there.) =>Cardio 3x/week. (This I'm already doing most weeks.) =>Cheese only

I am a cold, cold person. When winter rolls around, I haven't been warm since 1994. Which is when I moved to the Emerald City. I mean, it's not super cold here; but it's not the cold, it's the humidity. It was way colder in DC ... but it was a dry cold. The chill here sinks into the bones and makes you feel old. * Coldilocks, that's what my ex-husband (my "first draft", as we like to say) used to call me. Until this year! This winter has been magically warm inside my skin, and I think I owe it to my personal trainer . That must be it, right? Nothing else has changed. Working out makes you warm! And skinnier! Who knew? (I'm guessing a lot of you knew, and I'm mad at you for not telling me.) I will sincerely try not to proselytize too much about my new fitness regimen , but it may be the single best change I've made in my life in the arm's reach of my memory. *I'm not some kind of trendsetter by remarking on this phenomenon; in fact, we

I was ego-surfing this morning, and here are some things regarding my immense famousness that I think you'll want to check out: Get my autograph! Send me fan mail! See my extensive nationally-recognized TV credits! Also, I have never acted better than in this segment . (Be patient - I'm the last to arrive, but it is WORTH IT. Take notes, bitches.)

I was re-reading this post , and the comments, and I realized that I'd be ashamed and embarrassed if my bosses read it. Not because I'm chicken (I'm not), nor because I said things I didn't mean (I didn't). I intended to be humorously snarky , but I just sounded like an ass (to myself at least). Because I called them out when I really should have called myself out. I used them as examples of an issue I've personally been struggling with. What does it mean to be politically liberal? I know many of the definitions, that's not what I mean. But how do I manifest it in my daily life? Do I choose to spend my money at businesses that act in accordance with my beliefs? Do I leave my car at home whenever possible? Do I always recycle, even when it's a pain in the ass? Well, I have given up some things that I enjoy(ed), but usually only when it's not inconvenient to me. Like I gave up McDonald's fast food. Primarily I gave it up because of environmental an

Here's the deal --- Cody doesn't want me to eat cheese. WTF?! I know, right? It's the most impossible thing he asks of me, and he asks a lot of impossible things. Like, "Do 75 crunches," or "Don't cry or throw up on the mat." But to not eat cheese. Excuse me, my head just exploded. Here's how I currently incorporate this into my life ... I kind of ignore him and eat it anyway. Isn't that horrible? I suppose I have cut back just so I don't have to lie as often. I am totally kidding, of course - I never lie. (To Cody.) But so that I don't have to feel guilty about it. Well, that's not even true. I don't actually even feel guilty; but I feel awkward about not feeling guilty, so that's something. Here's what I'm going to do: I've decided that I'm going to lure him over to the dark side of cheese. That way he'll encourage cheese-eating to the point that I'll have to say to him , "Whoa, dude, settl

"IT'S MY BOSS' CAR! I SWEAR!! IT'S NOT MINE!" I was running an errands for my boss this afternoon. She's not the type of boss who would actually ask her assistant to run errands. I practically begged her to let me so that she'd have an hour or two in her office (unheard of) to whittle down her completely overwhelming to-do list before she goes out of town tomorrow. So if you saw me driving around town this afternoon in an SUV, allow me to repeat: It's my boss' car. And if you see me driving around this next week in a different SUV ... that's my other boss' car! I'm housesitting for his family while they're away, and they graciously allow me to drive their vehicle when I need it ... except that's it's an SUV. Let's say I'm not an SUV kinda gal. Except that when I drove one for the first time, I was all like, "Oooh, man. I could get used to this!" It was comfortable. COMFORTABLE comfortable. Like butter. And

Sample # 1 ... Cody: Okay, next you're going to do [fill in the blank] . Me (with extreme dubiousness) : You're kidding. Seriously? Sample #2 ... Me: Oh my god. I don't think I can do this, Cody. Cody: You say that everytime; c'mon! Me: Yeah, but this time I really mean it. (This repeats about 3-4x/session, and I'm completely serious every single time. For some reason, he doesn't believe me.) My sessions are filled with cussing and groaning and strange pterodactyl-like noises that somehow make me feel better. And humming. Humming fools me into thinking I'm calm and in control. I swear, I must seem like some CrAzY cAt LaDy * . Luckily I have lost all regard and self-consciousness for how I appear to others while in the gym. Finally ... Me: Does anyone complain as much as me? Cody: I'm not going to answer that. (HA! This cracks me up the most.) *This makes me remember that I told Cody that I used let my cat eat of my mouth. (I know - gross; whateve

That's my avatar in the rain. Love it or ... well, love it.

Holy key-riced. Seattlites are no pussies when it comes to rain, but that shit last night was UN. BUH . LIEVable . I mean, let's perspectivize this ... it's no national disaster. But it was nuts --- take a look at these photos . Or these . 4 deaths have been linked to the flash flooding & high winds. One woman was trapped in her windowless basement and couldn't get out because the force of the water blocked the door. That is not cool. I can't think about it too hard, or I want to cry. I had it easy. I left work early at about 3:45p for my personal training session, and while the bus was a little late, traffic wasn't too bad that early (even considering the Hawks game). And of course, it was only reasonable rain at that point. Halfway from work to lower Queen Anne, the floodgates of heaven opened and got stuck. I have never seen rain like that here, and maybe not even back east. Walking just 2 blocks from the bus to the gym, I had to cross Taylor Ave. (at the

I vow to get back to the roadtrip journal postings. However! in the meantime, I finally finished captioning our photos. If you have an yen, why don'tcha mosey on over and take a look. Try not to be jealous. Road Trip 2006

I thought this might happen. I changed my template to take advantage of Blogger Beta, and lost all my comments. (Don't worry, Bloggersters, it almost certainly won't happen to you; I was using a hack for my comments, not the Blogger-approved template. Shame on me.) Anyway, since I anticipated this, I copied & saved all of your comments, my 3(ish) faithful readers! Yay me! Slowly but surely I will be adding the comments back, one by one. Why? Because if you care enough to comment, I care enough. It's that simple. I care . About you.

If you have any odd desire -- well, any desire at all, odd or not -- to see what I eat (!), then go here: http://spreadsheets.google.com/ccc?key=p8-uxsjKu6ueK4FYKCRGWOg I've made my food diary public. It feels weird. Now you know far more intimate things about me than I'll probably ever know about you, whoever you are. Unless you want to share a secret with me in the comments section. C'mon, seriously, I won't tell anyone.

What I think while I'm stationary biking for 30 minutes: 1 / 30 1 / 15 1 / 10 1 / 6 1 / 5 1 / 4 3 / 10 1 / 3 2 / 5 1 / 2 3 / 5 2 / 3 3 / 4 7 / 10 4 / 5 5 / 6 9 / 10 2 minutes 1 minute 45 seconds 30 seconds 15 seconds DONE! That's a little weird, right? Also kind of obsessive. At least my elementray school teachers might be proud of me.

What I think while I'm working out with Cody: "Why the hell do I pay for this misery? This is horrible!!" What I think right after I'm done: "That wasn't so bad; maybe I'll come back." What I think inbetween sessions: "I can't wait to go back!" Rinse, repeat.

Oh, Cody - how can I lie to you? I ate a brownie this afternoon. It was delicious, but it was not worth it. UPDATE: I made up for the brownie by not eating dinner, so that's good! And then I drank too much, and that really worked out really great for me. (For those of you who don't know me, you may notice my sarcastic tendencies.) I really only truly regret the 2nd whiskey. Oh, and the not eating dinner. Oops, and the smoking. Boy, I sure fell off the wagon, didn't I? And then it ran over me.

I found this great site that uses Google maps and turns it into a mileage calculator for walking (or running , I suppose, but I sincerely doubt you'll catch me secretly tabulating the miles I plan to jog). Enter your location, double-click your starting point, and double-click your way through the map, marking your journey. It makes you want to walk places! (Kinda.)

I realized that my monthly eval stats don't mean anything unless you know exactly what I am put through Sit & Reach: This tests, what? Flexibility, I guess. Sitting with legs straight out in front of you, heels on the ground about a foot apart. You lean down in between and stretch your hands as far down the measuring tape as you can. Sit-ups: # sit-ups in 1 minute Push-ups: # push-ups in 1 minute (on the knee push-ups, but still …) Pull-ups: # pull-ups in 1 minute (assisted pull-ups, meaning I’m under the bar, leaning at a 45% angle with my feet on the ground) T-test: Best time out of three. A sprinting thing between cones set up in a T-formation; reminds me of football practice. (Ya know, back when I played ball before my knee injury.) The Plank: A truly hateful Pilates-ish ab exercise; horrifyingly deceptive . And there you have it; my monthly torture test.

Considering the sporadic and frequently infrequent nature of my posting on this blog, this may seem nuts. NUTS! But I have a second blog now. I know . But! My new blog is specifically dedicated to my personal training regimen: health & well-being; weight loss; strength & stamina building; the trials & tribulations, the occasional crying jags & rage; and last (but certainly not least), the weird conversations Cody & I have while he's kicking my ass.

Here's the workout I went through last Saturday. Before you watch it, you just have to know this --- every single thing you see is way harder than it appears. That's how Cody tricks me into doing things. http://www.survivalseattle.com/Peggys_workout_dec.html Full disclosure: Cody had videoed a workout once before but he said we couldn't use it, because "You weren't smiling." Yeah, no shit. Gee, I wonder why. In between the agony, the lack of breath, and my pleas to simply kill me quickly - who's got time to smile?

The are always several complicated and often contrary motivations hanging out inside my psyche at any given time. I suppose we're all like that, right? I mean, human beings are a complicated species. Well, screw celebrity deathmatch - getting in shape pits two longtime archrivals in the fight of the century; two sides of the force fighting to gain control of my soul ... my innate love of comfort against my vanity. Currently, vanity is trumping laziness. Yay me. Yes, Carly Simon, I do think that song is about me. At the first session, Cody talked to me about my goals. I was all like, "I wanna be able to kick ass. And also, HOT." I mean, duh . But he forced me to get specific. Which I absolutely recommend for others, but which I don't love to do myself. I know it works; it's old school time-tested. Again and again, you see the people who succeed are the ones who are specific about what they want to achieve and who draft up a mission statement of sorts for themselve

I adore my personal trainer ; he kicks my ass. And just as soon as I can catch him, I will kick his.

What do you call someone who is more than an acquaintance, but less than a full-fledged friend? This isn't a set-up for a joke; I actually want to know. Is there an elegant descriptive term for it? What do you use when describing a person such as this in your own life?

In the beginning there was me, and there was too much of me. Too much weight, yes; but that's symptomatic of the systemic issue ... too much noise; too much "other." I've been promising for years that I will get in better shape, that I will lose weight, that I will set goals and stick to them. I'm too broke, I'm too poor, it's too hard. Blah blah blah, I was freakin' sick of hearing myself, and I'm me . Yeah sure, Peg; but what have you done for me lately? I'm not sure what the tipping point was. I was a bit weary of not succeeding. Well, it turns out I wasn't trying very hard, so my lack of success is not, in retrospect, incredibly shocking. I have to say, though -- it's not so much that I didn't want to try, but that I didn't know where to begin to know how to try. I read a lot; that's how I begin solving almost all my internal, and even external, dilemmas. I read books on organizing, on diets, on exercising, on detoxing,

I'm not so much a religious person, but I have lately found myself questing for spiritual meaning and action (for lack of a better phrase). Simple daily compassion & courage ... that sort of thing. I came across this prayer attributed to St. Francis of Assisi. I've heard it before; probably most of us have. But it's time to cast some fresh and childlike eyes on it again. Read it with care (rather than skim it) and see what comes up for you. Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy; O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. I think this is worthy of a New Ye

July 14, 2006 80 miles, in and about Arches NP & Moab. We set the alarm and woke up early for the cool of the day. Which more or less worked; except, ya know, that it’s the desert. We were hiking fiends today. First thing, we headed to the Delicate Arch trailhead, and hiked 3 miles to and from the iconic arch. I’ve discovered that the most annoying thing about hiking -- apart from the sweat and lack of breath -- is the encouraging folks on their way back to their air-conditioned cars. “You’re almost there!” “Just around the bend!” “Hang in there; it’s worth it!” Assholes. (On the way up, anyway. On the way down, they’re not assholes; they’re me.) I wanted to stay up there forever, but we had hikes to hike! Next stop was 1½ miles on the Primitive Trail all the way around The Windows. Most folks simply walk the paved path to the overlook, but we got to see it from behind with nobody in sight. Lovely. We headed back to the campsite, ate lunch, and dipped in the pool & hottub to pr

It's back ... ... ... July 13, 2006 227 miles. Wow, it’s hard to believe we made so many miles today, considering the entire morning we were RAFTING ON THE MOTHERFUCKING COLORADO RIVER. (There are certain things I imagine myself saying at dinner parties when I’m rich and famous and yet incredibly approachable, fun-loving and down-to-earth. Name-dropping the Colorado River is one of them.) Shoogie has never been rafting, and I hadn’t been in, like, 20 years. * It was incredibly fun, but after we got over the anticipatory terror of the first few rapids, I think both of us wished there had been more continual excitement. Apparently we’re secret thrill-seekers. I suspect rafting is something we’ll do again. Our guide’s name was Jamie. She’d grown up in the area, and regaled with tales of her wayward youth -- which Shoogs & I ate up, but the family with us was a bit non-plussed. Jamie pointed out a bridge where it was now illegal to jump from. Because of her, actually. When she was

Here's a photo to stave off my guilt until I post again. This is me on my first entrance in The Tempest (on the lake) , which closed last weekend. So fun, I can't even tell you. I haven't had withdrawal from a show in awhile.

I promise I'll get back to recapturing my roadtrip soon ... after the 18th, I'm gonna OWN THIS MOTHER-FUCKING BLOG! Okay, you're right, I already own it. Real quick, though - I needed to get something off my chest; and here it is. I have an older neighbor in my building who is in bad shape; his health is obviously failing. This is a situation I've never personally dealt with before, but I'm at a point where I can't just sit by any longer. Here's the deal: Don is stubborn and sometimes downright ornery. He's a a misanthrope, but he's also an intelligent & fascinating person. I have come to believe that he suffers from bouts of depression. He has no health insurance. He uses a walker, and moves slowly. He's lonely. He lives alone, he has no family, and I don't believe he has many friends (I only know of one other gentleman, besides myself & Shoogie). He claims to not trust any doctors ("they're all quacks"); his father was

July 11, 2006 341 miles. Not much eventful today, and a lot of just driving. We made one important decision ... there is a campground for sale right outside of Custer SP, the Spokane Creek Resort, and we are going to buy it and live happily ever after. Come visit! On our way out of the Black Hills, we stopped at Jewel Cave National Monument. You know the difference between a Nat’l Park and a Nat’l Monument? Nat’l Parks need to be sanctioned by an act of Congress, and any ol’ President can designate a Nat’l Monument. (Excepting, of course, our current President - he’s too busy destroying the environment to bother with preserving it. Ha ha ha. Cry cry cry.) Many Monuments are later promoted to Parks. We went on the “moderate-level” guided tour of Jewel Cave. It was really beautiful; it reminded us both separately of the Goonies cave. Definitely worth it, but we were both pretty ready to get under way and put some serious miles on the car. So we did, and drove through Wyoming.

July 10, 2006 110 miles. The air was wonderfully cool last night, and woke up refreshed and not sweating for the first time in a handful of days. We even slept in just a bit. Nice. And we took our time getting ready, so by the time we headed out, it was lunch. Hooray! We enjoyed a delicious lunch buffet at the Game Lodge, the former “Summer White House” of Coolidge. Then we hit the scenic road. We’d gotten a tip from the rangers, and in mere moments we rounded a curve, and were surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of bison. It was truly amazing, and I shouldn’t even try to capture it here, because no words exist for the childlike, giddy, quiet, intense, joyful wonder I felt. (Okay, actually – I just came up with six words; but you know what I mean.) And the herds just kept going and going for, like, 2 miles. Astonishing to see these beautiful beasts up close. If I were allowed, I could have petted them from the car. It was slow-going, because they were everywhere, all over the road, and

July 9, 2006 194 miles. There was a major windstorm all night, and I barely got any sleep. It was crazy and incredibly disconcerting. Shoogs (of course) slept like a baby on valium. I guess it stressed me out - I kept looking out the tent window to make sure nothing was blowing away. Which is an overreaction, to be sure, but the middle of the night in the middle of a prairie brings strange thoughts to your head. After tossing and turning all night, another all-you-can-eat brekkie swept my cares and weariness away. It’s actually a bit amazing how quickly humans can adopt a regular routine. After 3 days, it was as if we’d never eaten breakfast anywhere else. I’ll miss that little place. Lovely folks, and damn good pancakes. We headed to Wind Cave National Park in the Black Hills of South Dakota, where we had already reserved space on a 4-hour spelunking cave tour. We were so excited; I mean, it’s like a childhood fantasy to go cave exploring. Not that we were allowed to go off on our own

July 8, 2006 Day 8. 91 miles. So I started to tell you about Mr. Florida who gave us his leftover cooler detritus last night. He was adorable and hilarious, and the type of guy you’d want to talk to at every party ... for about 10 minutes before he wore you out, and then you’d have to fake a nosebleed to get away. He had some very interesting things to say. Which is good, since he had no apparent interest in our stories. He’s a self-proclaimed “critter guy.” Loves the critters, and he and his 11-y.o. son seek them critters out. “Have y’all been to Custer State Park?” he asks. “Naw,” we respond with vague un-enthusiasm, as we give each other ‘that look.’ (We don’t care about STATE PARKS. STATE PARKS are lame. How great can it be if our fine institution of a Wash, DC govt. hasn’t seen fit to endorse it?) Well, he goes on and on about it. “Pronghorn sheep coming out your ears!” “You can see bison brushing their teeth!” So we thanked him, assured him that we’ll check it out,

Hey all - I am home in Seattle and safe and tired and full of energy and squeezing my cat to death. I will keep posting my trip journal in order as I have time to clean it up. I had the most amazing time, and it will be such a joy to remember each day as I post. Keep your fingers crossed that we didn't lose all of our pictures ... how's that for a teaser?! xo PJ

Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door. =========================== I know that I should be catching up on the day-to-day, but I need to take a moment to pause and relay to you all that this trip has really begun to renew my love for this country; and my faith in folks in general. I alluded to this in my last entry, but it bears repeating. And it bears remembering when I'm back home and caught up in my small and elite city community and when the world seems to be going to hell in a handbasket all over the place. The night before we left, we went over to Safeway, right across the street of out home on the top of Queen Anne Hill in Seattle, and we conversed briefly with one of our regular checkers. She's a very nice young lady, maybe mid- to late-20s. We slipped in that we were leaving for a month to tool around the

Apologies for the sporadic nature of these road trip reports - I have SO MANY STORIES to tell, and yet such a strong desire to sleep when the sun goes down. ;o) Slowly but surely. Here's the next installment. xo PJG 7/12/06 July 5, 2006 Day five. 375 miles. Things are picking up. We're really getting used to our rhythms and our routines. Our bodies and minds are slowing down and it's easier and easier to remember where we packed that one thing that we want. It's amazing how much faster you can travel on the interstate. We took I-90 from Billings, MT to our present location. Perhaps not as picturesque, but really, the only logical way to go. And now, I am in a hotel in Deadwood, SD. It kind of kicks ass. It's a very charming and small town of about 1400 people, and a mass amount of touristy types. Ya know, like us. I gambled away about $25 bucks. At some point, I won back $20 and was ahead, but ... well, jeez! it's so easy to stick in a buck and then another buc

Right now, I am sitting in a KOA Kamping Kabin (did I mention how much I love KOA?!) and I am listening to fireworks taking place in various places around Billings, MT. But, Peggy! -you gasp- How did you possibly get to Billings on the 4th of July?! Well, let me tell you folks … it was not that easy. Day Two. July 2, 2006. 317 miles. In retrospect, perhaps we should have decided to make Glacier NP in 3 shorter days rather than 2 longer ones. The second day (July 2) might be the closest we come to seriously almost bagging this whole ridiculous idea and holing up somewhere and coming back to Seattle simply pretending that we took a month-long road-trip. Note to self: Eat more frequently. 2nd note to self: Somehow trick Mark into eating more frequently. BUT! We made it to Glacier, and it was beautiful. In fact, the whole of the drive up to Glacier was also beautiful. And some of the time we even had the presence of mind to remember to enjoy it. It was a long day that ended w

324 miles. We started late and made it to just past Spokane today. Fairly uneventful, but we had a few first day blips. Getting on the was road for any trip is always a bit stressful, but perhaps slightly more so since it’s the two of us in a car for an entire month. Did we forget anything? Do we like each other enough to do this? If we were on the Amazing Race, would we have embarrassed ourselves in front of America? On the TAR (The Amazing Race) scale, I’m guessing we would have come in around 9th (out of 11). Our navigation skills rocked, but our interpersonal interactions were shaky. Perhaps an earlier breakfast would have been beneficial. We’re the team that your bets would still be out on. Are they assholes or are they cool and just finding their sea-legs? Time will tell. I woke up with a cold yesterday (hooray), and have been fighting it off fairly successfully, but it’s taken a bit out of me. (Patience, mostly.) And Mark was … well, Mark was cranky. We’re both bet

My best college friend and I used to keep wish books. They weren't diaries; they weren't journals. They weren't even really goals, per se. It was a place where we wrote down everything from "I want to play [this particualr character] in [this particular play] ," to "I want a house with a swimming pool," to "I want to learn to fix my car," to "I want to kiss [so-and-so] on the mouth," to "I want to win the lottery." Some of our "I wants" were silly, fun and airy; some reflected the sweet intense passion of youth; some of them actually did turn into goals. We crossed them out once we'd achieved them, but that wasn't really the point. The point was brainstorming and dreaming without any kind of self-censorship. It was silly and giggly and yet somehow galvanizing. I talked to Lynnie recently, and she mentioned that she still had her book, and 12 years later (!), she was still adding to it. Oh my gosh, I thought

There comes a time almost every afternoon around 3:30pm when I'm at work and the office almost always quiets down. Nobody's conversing on the phone or in person, all the office doors or shut, I and the other assistants are in our cubicles quietly typing and minding our own beeswax. It's very pleasant, and I feel like I get a lot done in the hour surrounding this quiet time. Then the weirdest thing happens, and it surprises me every time. The fan on the behemoth printer behind me shuts off. And every day, it's only then that I realize how loud the fan is. It wasn't at all quiet before, I'd been fooled. But *now* it's super-duper quiet. I love this moment, and I hope I continue to forget about it and be surprised anew daily. I actually have a tangible physical reaction to it - my shoulders relax, my face muscles relax, I unconsciously take a cleansing breath, my brain calms for a moment. It makes me wonder how much noise falls beneath my conscious radar every

A couple posts ago, I mentioned this road trip that Shoogie and I are taking. My readership is not large, I'm sure, but I believe that you are smart and mighty! Would you please care to share your pearls of wisdom? Any campgrounds or areas of interest or amazing roadside diners we shouldn't miss? Please tell me all about it/them/your experiences. Here is our very basic itinerary (subject to change upon any whim that Shoogs and I have at any moment): over to Glacier down to the Tetons over to the Badlands cut southwest across Utah, thru canyon territory north rim of Grand Canyon Las Vegas home It's basically a big circle(-ish thing) around the west. We plan on camping 90% of the time and trying to stay to the roads and lands less travelled. Advice? Bring it on; I'm not scared ...

Stop it, Skot. I'm serious. I wrote about my first Skot dream here . Which pleased me for days. But now it's getting weird. Skot wrote this a few days ago over at his url-pad, and (in addition to feeling cheated out of my memories because I saw that show, and now I can see that all they gave me was sloppy seconds *SOB* - aw, fuck, who am I kidding? sometimes it's the only road back to sanity) I have dreamed (dreamt?) twice now about Skot trying to assassinate me. * Once he was following me around work, and the other I was in the audience and he was on stage "acting." *Of course, I don't mean really assassinate me, like that recurring dream I used to have about Adam Sandler - seriously, that's not a joke. Another entry for another day. If you didn't read Skot's post I linked to, do it . It'll become clear. ** **It now just occurs to me that maybe Skot's following me in my dreams to only to wink at me, with no malicious intentions. I'm

I'm really starting to lose it. I need to get out of here. Away from the city; away from my job; away from all these ... people . Blech. Why don't the people just stop talking to me?! Seriously ... zip it. You're annoying me. Okay, see what I mean? I am totally not usually like this. I am a kind and patient young(ish) gentlewoman. Sarcasm notwithstanding. The weird part is that my life is actually quite excellent right now. I'm just about to close a show that was challenging in all the best possible ways and quite successful and well-praised. I'm directing Shoogie in his solo piece that's going up in a festival next weekend - and it's going so freakin' well. My job's fine; I'm having fun; I adore my friends; biddy biddy boop boo nerdle derdle. But the people. The poor ignorant people * are constantly throwing their unintentional buzz-kipe into my determined path. I have a few theories regarding this. The people are not ignorant, and it is intent

If you saw the title of this past and you thought to yourself, "Ooh, iambic pentameter!" or perhaps, more specifically, "Aha, Shakepeare!" - then you very well might begin to understand the hell I am in. Don't get me wrong; I love Shakepeare. Adore, actually. Reading it, deciphering it, acting it, watching good actors perform it. Love. It. Like. Crazy. But I am in rehearsals currently for Shakespeare's King John (an all-female version, and it's gonna be so good). Yes, it's amazing, blah blah blah, but aside from all that --- it's taking over my brain. I walk around all day trying to make my conversations fit into blank verse. I can't friggin' read a book, article or even email without forcing this poetic rhythm on these bits of poor unsuspecting prose. (And really - is there any prose quite so prosaic as modern speech and communication?) Even right now, I've tried to go back and examine this post for it's adherence to iams. O God

... that I must punch someone or die. Kenya Badgers England!

Things I get to say at work LEGALLY: "Yeah, let me put that in your box." "How are things going with your unit?" And, of course, countless variations. Some days, it's all I've got ...

(... name that song!) Anyway, it's true. I had one of the funniest dreams of my adult life. I was at Skot & his wife's place. Skot was in the dining room area sitting in an armchair reading the paper (like a curmudgeonly grandpa, which he is, really) and "the wife" (his term, not mine) was flitting around the living room playing hostess. Dusty, Val and I were sitting on 3 folding chairs lined up in a row across from the couch, and we could only just see one half of Skot in the other room. I don't remember the conversation we were having, but I responded to something by telling Dusty not to be pussy, or something like that. All of the sudden, the wife froze and looked distressed and glanced over at Skot. He rattled the paper and peered out from behind it, and just looked over at me. Like Skot would. Part mean, part "you are such a moron." Then the wife said, very politely but awkwardly, "Skot and I don't use words like that in our home."

Oh, blog - I love* Wil Wheaton. I loved* Wil Wheaton before he had one of the best blogs ever (soon to return to his original space at Wil Wheaton dot Net ). Before the word blog even existed. I even liked him pre-Star Trek: The Next Generation. But I began to love* him the most during the ST:TNG days. He was mine; or rather the concept of him was mine. See, I kinda sorta liked him fine --- okay, hang on, 'cause this is where it gets confusing, because now "him" is starting to refer interchangably to either Wil or his ST:TNG character Wesley; but since one of the complicated and dubious joys we experience as Americans is the ability to hold this duality about celebs in our minds and implicitly understand it, I feel sure you'll grok this --- but because my sci-fi nerd friends didn't (like him, that is) and made fun of him mercilessly, I was compelled to take up the Wil/Wesley banner, and it was then that my "he's fine" blossomed into "he's a