Mini golf and beer? Is this heaven?

Ok people, it's about that time.

Bowling is over until the fall season, and I am craving the excitement of non-serious sports leagues and drinking in the middle of the week. The solution?

Drinks on the Links.

I'm looking to sign up for League #2, which starts on May 17 and goes for the next five weeks every Wednesday at 7 p.m. It's co-ed, so I need at least 3 guys and two other girls who want to do this thing if we're going to be our own team. But we can have up to 10 people on the team (yay!), which would substantially bring down the cost on a per person basis, as it's $350 to register a team as opposed to $60 for an individual sign-up.

So if we have 6 people that want to play, great! It's $50 a person. If we have 10 people who want to play, awesome! It's $35 per person, which is only $7 per night of miniature goodness, which seems more than perfectly reasonable.

We're all gown-ups here with math semi-skills, so I'm not going to do the breakdown for every permutation, but you get the gist of it, right?

I am more than willing to spearhead this thing and be in charge of the sign-up. All you have to do is tell me you want to do it, and I'll get us going, and we'll figure out the per person cost/payback once we're set.

Please don't make me drink (and mini-golf) alone. That's just sad.

It rolls by in slow motion and you rub it for good luck.

I'm feeling pretty good right now.

Things that need to be done are in process and progressing nicely.

I ran some errands after work that ended up putting me squarely in rush hour traffic across the I-90 bridge today. Although it took me the better part of an hour to get home from there, it was a good time. Merging was by and large smooth and seamless and I got most of my loud singing done for the day with the windows rolled down and the afternoon heat rolling in.

I'm sure the other drivers thought I was crazy, but really, who gives a damn about them?

It turns out there was a six-car pileup at the far end of the bridge. I just want to know how they got going fast enough to be in a six car pileup. Especially the last guy. I mean, dag, yo!

. . .

Scheduled work remains fun, fun, fun.

I keep feeling like I'm completely missing some labor-intensive horrible part of the job, but nope! It's nothing but roses as far as this girl can see.

Or tulips.

Or meatball sandwiches.

Or whatever strikes your fancy.

This could be the very minute I'm aware I'm alive

Everyone knows that the secondary reason for any travel is to bring back food that can only be had regionally. (The primary reason for travel is the usual — business, vacation, etc.) .

Before there were Krispy Kreme stores in our area, a trip to the SFO or LAS always resulted in a couple boxes of delicious donuts that were ingested (inhaled?) almost immediately. Once we had our own KKs, we started bringing them to Hawaii with us, and returning with the most delightful Kona coffee.

I've had an In-n-Out burger before I ever went to In-n-Out, and a Sumo Burger from the only Bob's Big Boy in Hawaii (conveniently located near the airport in Mapunapuna).

And I returned triumphantly on Friday night with a baker's dozen of Chik-Fil-A.

The conversation at the airport concession went like this:

Me (holding up my purse): How many Chik'n sandwiches do you think I could fit in here?
Her: Uh . . . 3?
Me: . . . hmmm . . .
Her: Maybe four or five?
Me: Give me a dozen.
Her: (pause, stare, stare, pause)
Her: Are you for real?

I got nine in the purse (it's really more of a satchel, I suppose, about the size of a surplus military map bag) and four kind of poking out of my laptop bag. I was packing an extra one from a little earlier, before I got my orders, in case you're counting.

Lucky for Guillermo, he had a closing shift at Giant Bookstore A that night, and scored the first handout shortly after I deplaned. (I expect some White Castle when you come through Newark on your way back, homeslice!) The fridge is still pretty well stocked and the Chik'n-y goodness continues.

. . .

Speaking of food and deliciousness, I have managed to avoid the most decadent of decadents and am now 6.25 to goal. What is really awesome about that is that by almost any metric, I am in the "normal weight" category now — though I do admit that I am still quite soft around the edges and to be a truly squarely healthy weight, I'd need to drop another 15. But I haven't been that since I was 15.

What's funny is that half of my sisters are like me: sort of soft with a sturdy bone structure. The other half are skinny as all hell. Luckily, both kinds are bootilicious.

Someone once told me that looking at my family was like a study in the diversity to be found just between two sets of genes. Some tall, some short; some freckled, some not; some thin, some chubby; some smart, some not; some with a crazy sense of humor, some humorless; some with much worse vision than others; some left-handed, some right-handed.

There are just two constants that I can think of:

1) We all have the same fucking eyebrows. It's kind of weird, when you consider the complete differences between us otherwise.

2) There is a wristbone we have (I'm guessing the lunate) that sticks up from the back of our hands. It's not gross or anything and usually not noticeable by the layperson upon casual inspection. It's usually only revealed if I flex my palm down towards my wrist or tell someone to feel for it specifically.

I went to the doctor once for an unrelated hand thing (a lump between the joints of my left ring-finger that was determined to be a cyst and went away on its own as predicted after I stopped using it so much) and as he was looking at my hands, he felt my wristbones and said, "Have you noticed these? We should check them out more closely. Are they bothering you?"

When I told him they were in fact bones that I had had my entire life and that everyone in my family had these bones (except my dad, we get them from my mom, I guess), he was more than a little sheepish.

Which is weird, right?

I remain convinced that other people have these sticking-out wristbones, but no one will admit to it. It doesn't help that every time I show someone what I mean, they always think I'm a freak of some kind from a family of wrist-freaks.

If you are reading this, there's a good chance that I've pointed out this bone to you and you freaked out about it or that you're saying to yourself, "What that F is she talking about? I never noticed anything like that," and that when you ask and I show you, you will freak out about me and my family of wrist-freaks.

. . .

Unrelated but awesome: There is a guy who lives across the street with a hook for a hand.

Let me repeat that: There is a guy who lives across the street (from me!) with a hook for a hand.

And he drives a mini-van.

Missive from Hot-Lanta

As I deplaned here in the ATL, I asked the gate agent, "Is there a Chik-Fil-A in this airport?"

I only got as far as, "Is there a Ch..." before she cut me off with a brisk, "A-9."

At first I thought maybe she hadn't heard me right, I mean, Is there a Ch..." could be almost anything.

"Is there a Chapel or meditation room in this airport?" for example.

In JAX, the answer would have been "Yes."


(The sign there says "Meditation Room", but the sign on the door actually said "Chapel.")

But I decided to take it on faith and get it going on, so I trucked on down to gate A-9 where, sure enough, they were doling out the Chik'n sandwiches and waffle fries like nobody's business.

MmmmMM mmMmmmm MmmmMmmmmm mMMmmm MMMMM Mm mmm MM MmmmM MMMmmmmm mMMMmmm Mmm Mmm mm. Waffle fries.

Of course, I made the mistake of messaging Wil about this and now I have a mission before my flight boards: Track down a cooler in the airport and fill it with Chik'n sandwiches.

. . .

God, I can't wait to get home and sleep for days.

Exodus to Florida, Part III

Yeah, this is the world's latest update.

We arrived in Jacksonville, Florida yesterday. We probably could've used one more rest stop, but once we were across that last state line, there was no stopping Sara. She was like a woman who hadn't seen her man in two months and had some serious business to take care of.

Wait, that's exactly what she was.

So we zoomed on down the highway to NAS Jax. The last 30 miles or so seemed to go excruciatingly slow, but we finally made it — driving onto base a total of 3120 miles after we'd left Seattle.

And now for some pictures and notes:

• We each lost something along the way. Sara lost her pajamas in Montana, Carlos lost his leather jacket in Illinois, and I lost my lunch in Missouri. And Illinois.



• This is Wyoming. I think. Hard to tell just by looking, but it must be because I was driving in South Dakota, and Montana would've been to horrifying to capture on pixels.

• It bears note that in the West and Great Plains, there is a lot of Crazy shit. For example, we drove over or past: Crazy Mountains, Crazy Horse River, Crazy Woman River, Dead Horse (a cautionary tale for horses?), and Crazy.

• Different states appear to have different roadkill — For example, Iowa had two (two!) dead turkeys on the side of the road within 5 miles of the state line, but no other state had dead turkeys anywhere. And I'm not talking like, "Oh, I think that's a turkey over there, because i has feathers." These were obviously turkeys with their tails splayed up in one final gesture of defiance in death.



• This is Florida. Though, it could be Georgia, and possibly Tennessee. Probably not Tennessee, because it's more hilly and this is flat as a pancake.

• It's amazing the amount of flatness throughout the Contiguous states. Maybe it's because I've only ever lived in geologically active regions, but I was just astounded by the flat straight lines of much of the trip.

• And different states definitely put different amounts of effort into their rest stops. Montana basically has a bathroom, a weather report, and a sign that asks you not to dump your porta potti there. Iowa has wireless internet at their rest stops. Missouri and Georgia take advantage of their better weather and climate to give you large grassy areas for lounging in. Just don't lounge in the "pet comfort" area.



• We started hitting bugs in South Dakota and man, it was disgusting. Some of them left large smears the size of a jelly doughnut, but most were small and fairly discreet about their suicide. We did have to wash the windshield every time we stopped for gas, or there would be no way we could see out of the car. I mean, it was really bad.

I couldn't imagine doing this trip on a motorcycle, from the bug factor alone. No way.

. . .

And now my brief impressions of states as seen from a car:

Washington: Been there, done that. Yawn. Yawn. Yawn.

Idaho: I thought it would be flat, but lo! Mountains abound! This was mucho fun to drive.

Montana: I don't care what Jake says (he's probably a secret agent of the State anyway), I don't like Montana, and I have more reasons than I care to talk about here. It's not just the weather, ok? I'm just never coming back.

Wyoming: Meh. I saw deer. It was fun. This portion of the trip reminded me strongly of when my sister and I took that trip to Yellowstone with my Grandpa in intermediate school.

South Dakota: Nothing new to say here.

Iowa: They really are friendly here. Nice folks.

Missouri: I did not get ribs in St. Louis as planned. Sadness. Now I have to go back one day. That's OK. Missouri is a pretty nice state. I did see the Arch and the Mississippi as we crossed over though I was a little underwhelmed.

Illinois: Really lovely. Too bad it's in the Midwest. The weather really started to warm up here.

Kentucky: We spent very little time here. Just as I got used to being in Kentucky, we were in Tennessee.

Tennessee: Hilly and tons of trees. I actually thought it was a beautiful state. I can imagine Davy Crockett and Andrew Jackson here. The legends all more more sense to me now.

Georgia: Warm. Mmm. We managed to avoid the horrible Atlanta traffic by waiting it out at a rest stop about an hour outside the city.

Florida: They say the part of Florida we're in is more like Southern Georgia. I like it just fine. It's warm, it's humid, and it's early enough in the year that the bugs aren't all out yet. Just lovely. I think I will enjoy my day here before I hop a plane back home.

Exodus to Florida, Part II

We saw deer today throughout Wyoming.

We have decided to re-motto states. Montana is no longer "Big Sky Country." Instead, it is "Fuck this place." Apparently it took umbrage to my smack talk yesterday and decided to exact some vengeance. Nice try, Montana, but fuck you!

Wyoming is now, "I'm not Montana and that's awesome!"and also, "Gosh, there's a lot of roadkill here."

South Dakota is, "Gee this place is flat. And awesome! It's not Montana!"

Do you get the feeling I am never returning to the state of Custer's defeat? Yeah, it's true. I'm taking the 80 the next time I drive across the country.

I am actually adoring South Dakota so far. The rest stops are large and fabulous, and although they seems to be reconstructing every other mile of I-90 here, it's still easy going, even with the buffeting winds that cause you to have to actually steer the whole way across the state. Watch the bridges and underpasses, they're tricky.

I particularly enjoyed blazing down the highway to "Where is my mind?" tonight at about midnight. It was loud, atmospheric, and slightly creepy. In other words, really really fun.

We got off I-90 today shortly before stopping for the night. We're headed southeast now, and hope to hit Carbondale, IL as our stopping point tomorrow. However fast or slow we go, I am totally insisting on St. Louis ribs.

I mean, we do have some time padded in on Wednesday and Thursday.

There's more, but I'm too tired to think of it. Maybe it'll come back to me later. There's a chance that like South Dakota, most of this trip will be a dark blur in my memory.

Our mileage is at 1607.1 now.

Exodus to Florida, Part I

Our first gas stop was in Ritzville. This picture is all you need to know about "Ritzville."



It did have a wonderful redeeming quality, however — the gas station sold super-caffeinated coffee.

You should know that Idaho still sucks and that east of Coeur d'Alene, it's all mountains. I forgot the Rockies go that far north. Fun fun fun to drive though.

Montana isn't any place you really want to be, I think. There was snow, slush, and ice right around nightfall. Beautiful but treacherous!

I just have to say though:

Montana, what the fuck is up with your weather? Hail and sun and snow and rain and rockfall warnings?

In one afternoon?

In the middle of April?

The rest of us have a little something we like to call "seasons" and generally speaking, mid-April is fully sprung Spring. Just an FYI, Montana.Try some pleasant weather sometime.

Jerk.

I should have known something was up — the first rest stop in the state had a weather report playing in the restroom and on the bulletin board outside there was a big toll free number with a sign that said, "Need more weather reports?"

We laughed at that. Why would you need more weather reports? I mean, come on, the weather is going to be what the weather is going to be. Sheesh.

What fools we were.

. . .

We hit our mileage and time goals for the day. Right now we stand at 739.7 miles traveled.

. . .

I have a new nickname and it is "my little leadfoot."

Happy Easter! See ya later!

We stayed up late again last night, which was just not not good for me, I think (the fois gras was worth it, though).

I don't feel particularly tired right now, but spreading out a one night's sleep over two days is bound to show itself somehow. Luckily, I'm not going to be driving until we get on the other side of the mountains, so I will have time to a) catch a nap or b) get super energized.

Option (b) is actually a lot more likely than anyone could imagine.

The weather looks like it'll be great, too — clearing up and getting warmer and the week goes on and we move east. Everywhere else is at least 13 degrees warmer than Seattle right now.

Sioux Falls is one of our planned night stops, and the weather there looks just craptastic all week, but everywhere else looks good.

Seventy-eight degrees and sunny? I can dig it.

I'm taking an EVDO card with me to possibly get some work done on the road (and OK, to keep me from getting the shakes from being away from internet access so long), so we should never get hopelessly lost. It'll be interesting to see if it's helpful at all, or if older technology (like, say, a phonebook) still works better for getting information in certain parts of the country.

And off I go.

T -15 hours

I have a million and one small things to do and I am in the mood to do exactly zero. I have been overwhelmed with a huge wave of lazy, which is just too bad because I have 1/2 a pair of socks and one clean set of underwear left. That stuff has got to be washed before I pack it, no doubt.

Sigh.

And I have to run to the drugstore, and the bank, and blah blah blah blah blah.

Jesus. I've even gotten to lazy to think about what needs to be done.

Time to commence evasive action.

. . .

I met a pretty girl at work today. I know, I know. I have said multiple times that I will never ever try to set my friends up ever again. But she's cute and sweet and they would be so perfect, and, uh. . . I guess I should find out if she has a boyfriend or something.

Always jumping the gun, I am.

. . .

"I've got my wife, the other women,
And the whiskey killing me.

The first two make it so that I see red,
The third one makes it so that I can't see.

If I had half a brain left after my debauchery,
I'd give up the other women

And the w-i-f-e."

— "W.I.F.E.", Old 97's

Happy Anniversary for Dragons and Lemurs.

She woke from a dream
Her head was on fire
Why was he so nervous?

He took her to the park
She crossed her arms
And lowered her eyelids

Some day somebody's gonna ask you
A question that you should say yes to
Once in your life
Maybe tonight i've got a question for you

She'd had no idea
She started to cry
She said in a good way

He took her by the hand
Walked her back home
They took the long way

Some day somebody's gonna ask you
A question that you should say yes to
Once in your life
Baby tonight i've got a question for you

--"Question", Old 97's

There is danger in the night

Bookmarks added recently:

• This is Broken
  
  
• Literally, A Weblog
  
  
• Songs to Wear Pants To
  
  
• Fractal Recursions
  
  
• ISO Standards
  
  
• Ask a Ninja
  
  
• Ship Locations
  
  
• PostSecret
  
  
• BLDG BLOG
  

Productivity Meter slowing dropping.

I rock the party that rocks the body.

Just back from my first day at the new gig. In short: it was awesome.

There's nothing to make you feel loved and wanted like everyone you see in one day saying, "Yay! Mary's here!" when they spot you. And, okay, this is awesome, I ran into no less than three of my old delivery drivers and they were also really happy to see me. I even ran into Ernesto, my old freight driver from B&N, who was delivering to another store in the mall.

And, even though my old and new places are less than 20 miles apart, the difference in customers could not be more pronounced.

I have a really great feeling about this.

Even traffic was good today. Nothing untoward happened (head check before changing lanes, please!), and I got there way earlier than I had expected. Looks like I'll gain another 20-25 minutes of sleep in the morning.

I'm still a bit trepidatious about Friday evening traffic, but not too much. I feel fairly confident in my driving now, and I am so looking forward to starting that road trip on Sunday.

Happy last day at work day!

So today is my last day at this store, and starting tomorrow I'll be down at my old/new store for my awesome new job. I have to say that I didn't expect my tenure at this store to be so short.

I did only start working here four months ago.

Life moves quickly sometimes. The last day at my new/old store brought them delicious Top Pot doughnuts, so they would miss me and scheme to get me promoted back to that store. And hey, it worked!

Today, I am bringing honey oatmeal cookies (with mini chocolate chips!) to my current/last day store, so they will miss me and scheme to get me promoted back again.

Heh.

Forget working hard and being smart and attractive. Baked goods will get you where you want to go every time.

. . .

On a side note, one should always remember that when you take things out of a 350 degree oven, they will be hot and as such, you should endeavor to not grab them with your bare hands.

It's time to get ill.

It's official! I am now a licensed terror on the streets of Washington*!

Yesterday morning I went down the the DMV in my old 'hood of Kent and got a solid B on my drive test. I panicked and choked on the parallel parking portion of the exam, though I can parallel park like nobody's business. I don't feel too bad about it though, because everyone I told about it said, "I failed the parallel park too. Nobody gets it."

If you rocked the parallel parking on your drive test, you can suck it, because I don't want to hear about it.

Anyway, yay for me! Now I can commute to work starting next week. And I can drive to the 'Quah for Fatburgers whenever I want!

In case you're wondering, yes, I did get the illin' endorsement, so I am in fact licensed to ill.

(*Coming soon to states across the country.)

. . .

On a related note, everyone in the state knows the first 7 characters of your DL number come from your last/first/middle names, but not necessarily what the rest of it means.

I am pleased to find that someone went to the trouble of decoding and posting that information.

(Plus a crapload of other fascinating numbers!)

Hot five-way asian action

Here is the delightful pear tree I acquired and planted yesterday.

If you look down at where all the branches come off the rootstock, you'll notice that there are a bunch of tags nestled there. Those tags denote what kind of pear each branch is — five in total. So we've got a five-way asian pear tree.

It's awesome so far and it'll be even greater when we're enjoying sweet crunchy pear juiciness later this summer. I can't wait.

If you look to the far right of the frame, you'll also notice another tall spindly tree still in its pot. That is an Italian prune, said to be ridiculously sweet and delectable. I'm not sure if it'll fruit this year, but if it does, BONUS!

It'll be planted out in the backyard with the other trees I have yet to get, as soon as we can decide on final placement and whether or not this will involve final disassembly and disposal of the fallen tree which is dying slowly, but surely, and is really almost dead.

Trains roll like gamblers in slo-mo

So we're selling our condo. There's no way we are going to rent it out (I mean, look at us! We're busy and lazy!) and it's been sitting empty for six months.

Last week Monday I called a REALTOR(r) (his card says it just like that!) and we met on Wednesday to show him our unit (heh!) and sign some papers.

On Friday it went on the market.

On Sunday we got an offer.

On Tuesday we countered.

On Wednesday (today) they should be accepting our counter-offer (that's the word I got from my REALTOR(r) anyway), but if not, we got two more offers in today that we're sitting on. I love having a back-up plan.

We'll be closed out by May 4th one way or another, which just amazes me. Selling is so much easier and more relaxing than buying. I can dig it.

. . .

I adore systems, naming schema, and all kind of schedules, which is why I found this look at domain name usage (Part II should be up soon) to be so awesome.

The second most entertaining thing I've seen all morning.

. . .

I know, I know! My use of italics and exclamation marks are getting out of control!

I am just in that kind of mood.

In a jar, fireflies only last for one night.

The thing about living here is that El Jefe gets a new crazy idea almost every day. They're not crazy crazy ideas, I guess, but the speed at which plans must gather to implement these ideas is a bit crazy.

Yesterday's crazy plan was fruit trees, no doubt brought on by our own lovely blossoming pear tree and the general spring-in-the-air-edness of things. So now I'm scrambling to get a mini-orchard's worth of assorted vigorous fruit trees together so they can be planted this week, before things get too advanced in terms of budding and growing.

The most difficult thing is that he wants trees that will fruit this year. I tried to tell him that it takes a couple years after you plant them for most fruity arbors to come to bear, but he could only say:

"Couple fucking years! I'll be dead then! Fuck that."

So I found a pear tree consisting of four varieties that the nurseryman swears is getting ready to fruit this year. That should hold him until the apples and plums are ready next year or the year after.

I hope.

However, all this push on the time means I am probably going to have to spend most of tomorrow and/or Wednesday out in the yard, pulling out smaller non-delicious trees and bushes and transplanting some of the bulbs in front of the picture window, where the four-pear should be going.

But not today.

Today I have a whole day of wonderful worky-work ahead of me, and my "formal offer" should be rolling in. Sweet.

. . .

I'm gonna sleep on the train tracks
It's gonna be peaceful
Then it's gonna get rough

--Rhett MIller, "Fireflies"

Happy Birthday!

So listen. It's your birthday and your thirty years old! It's the big 3-0! Isn't that exciting?

Yeah, I know, people have been so building up to it that it seems like even if you threw a huge birthday bash with strippers and coke it would be disappointing. That's what happens when you're as awesome as you.

And hey, I wanted to take this occasion to say that all the years we've spent together (has it really been 19 years?) really means something to me. Even though you're older than I am, you've never tried to tell me what to do. You just said, "Figure out your passion, and I'm going to help you get there because we're pals."

That's not something you get from everyone, and it's duly noted in your file of awesomeness.

I know we've had a few rough patches here and there, but they haven't been so bad or for too long, I like to think. And since we've known each other since I was in the third grade and never had a falling out, I think it's a pretty good run.

But enough about me! Look at you!

You're 30, you're smart, you're sexy, and in unbelievably good shape! You're even hotter than you were when you were 20!

Trust me on this. I talk to a lot of guys and they think this is totally true.

Hot!

Anyway, I see you practically everyday, and I don't take the time to say this, so I'd like to take advantage of this occasion to say you mean tons to me and my life would be amazingly different without you in it — amazingly worse.

You never got in my way, you always supported the things I did, and really, without you, life would be a lot more boring and frustrating.

So thank you and happy birthday!

. . .

p.s. Try not to drink too much tonight, OK? You know how you get!