WOOHOO!!!

I think that about sums it up.

Beta Beck

Bear with me here.

Imagine two songs from a musician or band got together for a one-night stand, had a baby song, realized that songs were no good as parents and put their baby song up for adoption, and that song was adopted by another musician. Now, while the song would have been colored by the upbringing of the new parent, it would certainly still look like its birth songs, right?

I haven't had a drink yet, I swear.

This is just the best way I can word how I felt when I was listening to Beck's latest release. When I got to "Chemtrails", I was CERTAIN I'd met this song before, or heard...him? He reminded me of someone. Or two.

Lightbulb. Does this NOT sound like the long lost progeny of the Beta Band?!

"Gone" and "Quiet" got a little bored when their family split up. Their love child was adopted by Beck, and named "Chemtrails".

Find them. Listen to them. Tell me I am wrong. I'll spring for the DNA test.

Gymnasty

I've reacquired the gym habit. And not a moment too soon - the cubicle is no one's friend. Fortunately I don't have to talk myself into going anymore. I get pretty antsy, really, if I don't go burn off some nervous energy. Lord knows I have that in abundance.

There is only one thing I have to complain about with the whole exercise routine. It's not so much waiting for people to get off of the machine I want (c'mon...you're just SITTING there), or the sporadic water pressure in the shower. I can even deal with the random noises that come from the weightlifters (shouts, grunts, groans, I've heard them all). No...my one complaint is something that is of my own doing. It's a consequence of my choices. My work. My glands.

It's super-sweaty bicycle ass.

Ew.

Here's hoping there's SOME water dribbling out of the showerhead.

Quest for Pizza

Did you know...pizza crust generally contains wheat? It's true! A food I love, and I cannot eat most of what is made out there. Lucky for me, there are enough wheatophobes in the world today that even pizza restaurants are catering to our needs...and our ever-present pepperoni cravings.

I learned of a local business that has an entry in the wheat/gluten challenged arena: Mississippi Pizza. Now, while I have finally found a decent crust recipe, and it is fun to build your own pie to your specifications, pizza really is something to be shared. It's a social food, and unfortunately, no one ever wants to have a slice of the 'special' pizza at home. You can be sure that my next wedge of cheesy, greasy goodness will be enjoyed in North Portland, at this gracious establishment.

Stop...but only if YOU want to...

I still get a chuckle out of the fact that teachers have been encouraged to use purple ink (or whatever color it was), rather than red, to correct students' work. The theory was that there was a negative association with red...that it may invoke some self-esteem issues. What...the mark saying you were incorrect ISN'T hurtful in and of itself? Maybe that negative association is with your sloppy work, Junior.

Whether our associations with color and emotion are chicken-and-egg like, or hard-wired at birth, I worry for the kids that are protected from life in these ways...how can you grow up to be prepared, damaged adults without some good, old-fashioned childhood trauma?

There may be something to the angering properties of red, though. I can't help but notice my blood pressure rise when I see acres of brake lights in my way on my drive home. Maybe we need a change. Maybe the red lights are the true culprits of the ever-growing road rage epidemic. Maybe a blissful blanket of blue beacons would soothe the work-weary soul on the evening commute. That, or just staying home.

Blogtag

Studying cultured human cells, he's found that "deficiency of vitamins C, E, B12, B6, niacin, folic acid, iron or zinc appears to mimic radiation by causing single- and double-strand DNA breaks, oxidative lesions, or both"--precursors to cancer.

I've been tagged, and have thus complied with the orders listed below:

1. Pick up the nearest book (at least 123 pages).
2. Turn to page 123.
3. Find the 5th sentence.
4. Post the 5th sentence on your blog.
5. Tag 5 people.

I expect the next five readers of this post to do the same...whoever you may be.

The book? In Defense of Food, by Michael Pollan. Read this, as well as The Omnivore's Dilemma, and you will never, ever purchase or eat food the same way ever again. Consider yourself warned...in a good way.

A number's value is not static

My hubby and I celebrated our 5-year anniversary this month. Now, when I think on that, it seems a short duration on the surface. Only 5? Child's play. Just wait till you hit 20, 25, 30 years...

But when I reflect on where we were at that point in time, it feels light years from where we are today. I mean, I recognize those people, but it's a different life altogether. They are mostly environmental differences, but I think where you are shapes way more than is easily observed.

Five years ago...

We still rented, and were living at the duplex on 39th & Brooklyn.
John still had the Subaru.
While still at the bank, I was in a different position, in a different department, with a different boss.
John was still doing massage at Montgomery Park while also teaching.
I did not yet have my driver's license, and was still a slave to the bus schedule.
We didn't have cable, were still on dial-up, and had a dinosaur of a PC on Windows 98.
We celebrated special occasions with a nice dinner out.

Now...

We own a home, and all of the joys and expenses that go along with it.
I have a VW, and John, until a week ago, had a little Nissan (a story for another time).
I am figuring out yet another role at work...after having applied for and being re-orged into like three others at a rapid pace.
The salon at the Park has changed hands, and John has worked at one other location, also now closed; the teaching continues.
The Subaru's demise (another story altogether) prompted me to get my license, and the aforementioned VW.
I finally caved to the cable guy, the DSL offer, and the PC had to be put out of its misery. I have found new misery while wrestling with Vista.
We spend the night in for birthdays, anniversaries, whatever. We go out when we've had a bad day.

Also in the past five we've made some fabulous new friends, reconnected with some old ones, and John has decided to go back to school. I can already see the next five years reshaping our lives as we know them.

We are enjoying the ride.

Snow Day!

There are a few years now between my childhood and the present, and yet I still get a little giddy at the prospect of a few snowflakes. While snow is no stranger to Portland, like any other welcomed and appreciated guest, it never stays for too long. And yet, you hate to see it go.

The weather forecast begins, and the 'S' word rears its head. They have my attention now. Where? At what elevation? Above 500 feet? Where the hell are we? Crap. Oooh...valley floor later in the week?! Oh yeah, that's us. Don't drive unless you have to? Consider it DONE.

Though the school closure news ticker no longer applies to my responsibilities, when winter gives us anything other than liquid precipitation, I cannot help but watch and root for my fellow Portland Public School attendees...and cross my fingers they can get a day of frozen fun. None of that cheap two-hour delay B.S.

Obligatory "Long Time, No Write" Blog Post

Too much time for reruns when one is on vacation with few plans. Too much time to dwell on two major pet peeves about the sitcom realm.

1. How many of you have your bedroom set up so that when a lamp on one side of the bed is turned on, the other side lights up, too? What is THAT about?

2. Why, oh why, do the outsides of sitcom homes rarely match the layout of the insides?

That's all...and enough to remind myself that I really need to read more.