Of the Gattuso Varietal

Meet Pilot

2012-01-15T17:48:00.000-08:00

Kind of a cop-out post, because I don't really have the time for a full-blown, well-engineered musing or rant. I've been pretty busy organizing and cleaning and getting projects done around the house and it's making me feel fantastic! But also, not particularly ranty or dear-diary-ee...

BUT - anyhow, meet PILOT! Christmas puppy extraordinaire, nipper of ALL the things.

He is a bucket'o'cute. Also a bucket'o'pee. He loves to play with the in-law's pup, Muffet. I'm not sure that the video will actually be visible, but if not, here is the link. For some reason, Blogger has decided that, in conjunction with the new Gmail formatting, there is not an option to embed videos. So, yeah. That's annoying.

So there he is... Pilot.
Have a lovely coming week!

P.S. Incidentally, I thought posting pics and video would be a lot faster. It was not. It took so long to upload the video that I had time to make - and eat - guacamole, subsequently sign up for Weight Watchers Online, finish watching the Giants Packers game, and start watching the Golden Globes. I could've written three to four posts by now. So. Yeah. Way to take forever, YouTube...

Thoughts from the kitchen: you know, that place I'm supposed to be

2012-01-05T19:11:00.000-08:00

When I moved to Twin Falls, Idaho, I knew I was moving to a considerably more conservative state. I'm ok with that, though I am tempted to purchase one of those "Blue Girl in a Red State" bumper stickers, even if I'd never put it on my car - since I don't do bumper stickers as a rule.

Since I moved here last March, I've met more die-hard Republicans than you can shake a stick at. And that's cool. Every person is entitled to believe what they want to believe. I begrudge no one that. But I've also encountered a considerable amount of those stuck in, well, less than progressive states of mind.

I've been slow to get back on the eye doctor bandwagon, but I finally did a few weeks before Christmas. The tech who did all of my typical, preliminary testing was very nice, very professional, and extremely capable from what I inferred. As her last act, she dialated my eyes and left me in the dark room so my vision could blur. ~~So much fun.~~ While I waited for the doctor, I saw her escort a whiskery old gentleman into the room diagonally across from me (because apparently there's no need for patient privacy so why close doors?). They made small talk for a few minutes, then she procured a pair of tweezers and asked him to explain what was going on with his right eyelid. Now, I'm not at all sure what was going on with this eyelid... perhaps a pustule, a skin flap, an ingrown eyelash? But as soon as he saw the tool in her hands he barked out, "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with a woman doing this to my eye." That's it. I don't know much else in the story, and the tech graciously skimmed over the comment, but I *tried* to stare daggers at the man. I took it upon myself to be offended on her behalf. Because, hello guy, you're an ass. Sexism, it would appear, is alive and well in this town.

Granted, I've been exposed to sexism plenty in my day, but generally it's been in a more chauvinistic fashion. Not the good 'ole boys, get-back-in-the-kitchen-where-you-belong type. But apparently the state of potatoes harbors a few of the most insulting types.

This morning I received quite the affront to women, wrapped up neatly in my inbox. In what was very clearly a spam email blast, a now ex-potential client went on a rant against women in positions of leadership, prompted in part by Michele Bachmann's departure from the Presidential race (something I'm grateful for, but for ENTIRELY different reasons). To be clear, this rant was not directed at me, but I don't think I need to explain why including a woman on the distribution list for a rant that clearly states how they are inferior in his opinion is... stupid. I won't repeat it in its entirety, but here are a few gems. Grammar has not been altered:

- "women just are not equipped or have the executive skills sets to lead or be in charge of ANYTHING. Whether its President of the Union Yankee States, being executive in an office, or preytell in charge of a company dealing with important and executive issues and decisions."
- "Men make the rules, men lead and like it or not , man needs in fact its demanded that men are boss, squaw walk in rear."
- "I can see where there is a reason there are more bars in this part of the region than some others, too many women trying to run things sending men to drink."
- "At least the LDS church got that part right, after all, you never heard of the Church’s prophet being a woman have you? Always a MAN at the helm, and justifiably so."

Let me assure you he was 100% sincere. And I was 100% offended.

But - to those who are concerned, this sort of thing doesn't ruin my day. It doesn't make me feel bad about myself or as though I am somehow a victim. Not at all. What it does, however, is sadden me. Deeply, deeply sadden me; that this sort of sentiment is still alive today.

I don't necessarily consider myself a feminist in the stereotypical bra-burning fashion. I sometimes think the feminism movement has gone slightly too far - namely in the harsh criticizing of women who choose to stay at home to raise children or manage a household. In my opinion, feminism is more about understanding that women are equal, and that they should have the same choices as everyone else. If they choose to stay home and be a mom to five children? Amazing. That's incredible. Imagining five children sometimes intimidates and scares me - it's not for the weak. But also, if a woman chooses to pursue a career, wonderful. Power to her. I identify with her. And I don't approve of stay-at-home moms harshly critiquing a woman who's eager to climb the career ladder.

But ultimately, this sort of sentiment... this belief that women aren't as capable as a man.... frankly, it disgusts me. I've seen so many capable women in my lifetime, and we have so many women from the past to thank for many of the wonderful things we enjoy today.

I believe the situation was handled appropriately - ultimately, we tried not to inflame further discussions and were very brief in our responses. But you know what, that saddens me, too. Because while this ex prospective client lost the opportunity to do business with us, he also lost out on a chance to hear opposition to his skewed perception. He's stuck in a long-gone era and he's isolated. Not confronting him more directly meant he lost an opportunity to realize that this thinking is inappropriate and archaic. Who knows whether it would have made a dent on his opinion, but not saying something at all has absolutely zero chance for making said dent.

I don't really know that I have much to add that will further advance equality for women, or be any more powerful than what everyone who's already commented on similar matters has stated, but damnit. This behavior is shameful and I implore you - if you're in the appropriate scenario, confront this backwards thinking.

And of course, I'm curious. What sexist hurdles have you been confronted with?

*Thanks to Sarah Milligan for her suggestion for this post's title.

Psych-med free in 2012

2012-01-02T15:36:00.000-08:00

We'll skip over the fact that there have been painfully few blog posts from my end in 2011 and head right into a review of my Mighty Life List. So I haven't exactly struck very many of these off, but you'll note that I have accomplished one very, VERY big one: getting off of meds! Hooray!

I want to clarify that in no way do I think medication is bad, or that those who rely on medication are "faking" or not strong enough to handle things alone. So many people are living with medication as if it's shameful, as if it's not a norm. But you know what? Ask enough people and you'll find that a surprising number of them are either on medication or have been at one point in their life. I turned to anxiety medication because of crazy work stress that I struggled with for a long time before realizing I just couldn't do it alone anymore. The breaking point for me came a few Christmases ago, when, even on the most family-oriented, throw-your-cares-away day of the year, I still couldn't cast aside thoughts of my work to-do list. I wanted help coping, needed something that would help me distance myself from my desk when I had already left for the day, but was scared I'd be unfairly labeled. But what I found instead when I started asking around was a very welcoming, supportive network of family and friends who assured me that seeing a psychiatrist was an appropriate next step - you would go to a doctor if you couldn't shake a cold for a few weeks, right? Right. And the medication helped, but I knew that it was only a crutch. What I really needed was a lifestyle change. And I had the opportunity to do that in 2011 and - lo and behold - managed to become medication free. Huzzah.

But psych meds are legitimate. As are the symptoms that many, many individuals suffer through. So to those who are still on meds and working toward the right combination, I salute you. To those who are working on changing their life so they don't need to rely on meds so much, I salute you. And to those who are questioning whether seeing a psychiatrist is smart, it is. Do it. Don't feel ashamed for getting help. You deserve it.

Maybe in 2012 I'll be able to strike another 2-3 off the list. I know for sure that I'd like to pound out the rest of my manuscript before my 27th birthday. I'm trying not to think about how that's only 13 years away from being 40. Which is freaken' scary. But oh well. Hopefully by the time I'm 40, 40 will be the next 20. Yeah?

Also - I'd like to note that I feel much happier now than I have in the past. But I just feel like striking that particular goal off the list is so pre-emptive. It should always be a goal... the continual pursuit of happiness.

Love and light!<3---My Mighty Life List

1. Speak fluent Italian
2. Write a novel
3. Make the New York Times Best-Seller list
4. Make Oprah’s Book Club
5. Go on a tropical cruise with Mom, Sis, and Arie
6. Take an extended vacation (1-2 months) in Italy
7. Wear a goddess dress in Greece
8. Learn to make home-made hummus
9. Write an article for Real Simple, Vanity Fair, Cosmopolitan, Glamour
10. Own a black writing desk with a complementary statement chair
11. Attend an opera at the MET and one in Paris
12. See a Broadway show – Anything Gershwin
13. Go to a BlogHer conference
14. Build a blog/community I enjoy on a daily basis
15. Live in Seattle
16. Wear a big hat at Churchill Downs for the Kentucky Derby
17. Take a 3-4-day train trip in Europe to eat cheese and bread and drink wine
18. Own a Great Dane
19. Own an Irish Thoroughbred
20. Make a difference with my writing – would love for someone to cite my book as one that “changed my life”
21. Bake and decorate a beautiful cake
22. Christen a boat
23. Take a bath in an old, claw-footed bathtub
24. Attend Mardi Gras in New Orleans
25. Whistle with two fingers for a New York taxi
26. Have dinner and drinks with Colleen McCollough
27. Have a wardrobe that rivals all wardrobes – simple and elegant
28. Be able to whip up yellow chicken curry in a snap
29. Make a list of all the little things that make me happy and update it once a year – keep it somewhere I can look at it often
30. Start a charity or a non-profit
31. Have professional, model-esque pictures taken of myself before I get horribly frumpy, dumpy and disfigured
32. Attend a Butch Thompson concert
33. ~~Get off medication~~
34. Pay off all debts
35. Hang out behind the scenes to watch a feature film being made
36. Feel like I have my shit together
37. Ride a bike around Napa vineyards
38. Pay it forward – help someone out with college or a car
39. Finish the Napa photo project I started in high school
40. Learn to play the cello
41. Live in Florida
42. Salsa dance consistently – weekly
43. Meet Jenny – the Bloggess – and Heather – Dooce. Tell them how their unabashed brazenness has enriched my life, entertained me, and emboldened me.
44. Own a Porsche 911 Carrera
45. Watch the equestrian trials at the Olympics
46. Be able to discern the types of wine without looking at labels or getting hints from anybody
47. Truly, wholly enjoy what I do for a living – the measurement of success
48. Write a book that gets turned into a movie
49. Compile a list of 100 books to read – and read them
50. Enjoy a beer with friends while watching the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain
51. Ride in a hot-air balloon
52. Attend a clam bake in the Hamptons
53. Purchase an obscenely priced piece of art that really speaks to me
54. Go whale watching
55. Fly an airplane
56. Visit Atlantic City and walk the boardwalk
57. Grow my own grapes for wine
58. Revisit the Smithsonian museum
59. Track down ancestors from both my mom’s side and my dad’s side
60. Learn how to sail
61. Lazily tour the Louvre
62. Become a better public speaker
63. Visit London to ride the “Tube” and the London “Millennium” Eye
64. Donate blood more often
65. Learn how to Tango
66. Make pasta from scratch
67. Become a business owner or freelancer
68. Tour a high-rise city in a helicopter
69. Learn how to play tennis
70. Get comfortably snowed-in in a house on the East Coast
71. Enjoy a delectable dessert with port
72. Hear a presidential address
73. Watch the start of the Rolex Sydney Hobart Yacht Race
74. Attend (or compete in!) the Rolex Kentucky
75. Host a caviar and champagne tasting party
76. Actually save up to subsist without a job for at least 6 months
77. Visit the Pearl Harbor memorial
78. Read all of Agatha Christie’s work
79. Attend a costume ball
80. Buy coffee for the person in the car behind me in the drive-through line
81. Ride a zipline on a tropical island
82. Donate more to the food bank
83. Memorize and play Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue on the piano
84. Have drinks at an actual jazz/blues bar
85. Collect and display sand from beaches from all the continents
86. Throw a surprise party for someone I love to pieces
87. Attend Mighty Summit
88. Write down my grandparents’ life stories
89. Complete a remodeling project, or house
90. Have a restaurant prepare a fish that I caught myself
91. Meet Trey Parker and Matt Stone and thank them
92. Hole up in a beach house for a week (or longer) with someone I love
93. Spend a night in San Antonio near the river
94. Attend a writer’s conference
95. Be known as the best maker of spaghetti sauce ever
96. Take a cooking class
97. Buy more of my food from farmer’s markets
98. Try a Barolo (it’s a wine)
99. Enjoy dinner and drinks and discussion with Bill Maher
100. Ensure the literary world remembers my name
101. Be happy

The single greatest story of 2011

2011-12-31T16:52:00.000-08:00

Today doesn't really seem like a coffee day. It seems more like a hot chocolate day. A hot chocolate in my new Bill Maher "...But I'm Not Wrong" mug kind of day... wherein I can tell you about how the single greatest story of 2011 happened just last night, and pretty much sums up perfectly the high point of my year.

A brief update: The Beau proposed March 17th of 2011 - the night before we schlepped my stuff to Twin Falls, Idaho (I still miss Reno)- and we were married at a beautiful yet flew-by-in-a-hurry wedding September in Boise. Thanks to everyone who could make it - you have no idea what it meant to have you there. I started a new job, hubby brought home a puppy, said puppy sadly died recently, Ruby celebrates daily having a bigger pad and outside freedoms (and birds to kill - she likes to bring them in the house if she can manage), and I got a Christmas puppy from my little sister. His name is Pilot.

To resume: On the way home from town last night, the hubby and I drove straight into a fast-moving, rager of a winter storm. The wind was relentless and pushed the car around like a playground bully shoving the newcomer around. Fat raindrops pelted the windshield and gusts made the drops look like thick schools of fish fleeing in terror. It was intense. I had to swerve to miss an irrigation pipe that'd been tossed into the road. Perhaps the most surreal part was watching the power flicker across the valley. One second we're driving along, passing lit-up Santas and glowing reindeers on either side and in the next heartbeat everything is pitch black. The power flickered two or three times before it was clear that it wasn't coming back on. Kind of put a damper on our idea to forego dinner in town and just make something at home. How does one cook with no electricity or running water? (Side note: cleaning up puppy accidents with a flashlight is something I don't feel I need to repeat anytime soon.)

I busted out my collection of candles, several of which were novelty wine glass candles, and we set about illuminating. And for dinner? Why the food that is heated by candle itself: fondue! It was actually quite perfect. We had some Hickory Farms sausage and some fresh veggies that we dipped into melty, gooey, delicious cheese until we were both stuffed. And then I started laughing hilarious. Because it was just so damn funny and sad that a power outage forced us to have our very first sit-down meal across from each other at the table... since I moved here in March. It was definitely a telling realization, and we decided we definitely need to do it more often. Obviously. Don't judge us.

After filling ourselves, the power still hadn't come on, and we weren't ready for bed. Since Scattegories was missing a few pieces (or so the hubby told me) and Apples to Apples really isn't suited for only two players, we busted out Risk. I haven't played in ages. Literally ages, so the hubby had to reteach me. Painfully, I'm sure. I only asked three questions for every move he made... We had to jerryrig some flashlights to hang from the chandelier so we could see the board better, but even with the direct light a mere two feet from the board, I still had some problems differentiating between my green pieces and the hubby's blue pieces. I had to be about 6 inches away from it to read the regions depicted.

In case you're not familiar, I have some serious issues with my eyes, which you can learn about in previous posts here - that I am too lazy to link to. Mainly, the kerataconus is the most threatening, and I just recently learned about a week ago that it has now started presenting in the right eye. My doctor assures me it doesn't seem to be very agressive, and that he's not too worried, but we're now 2 for 2. I don't consider that docile. As I understand it, the most telling signs of kerataconus's progression is the deterioration of your eyesight, rather, a change in your prescription. And guess who just had to have her prescription altered because her eyesight has worsened? This kid. *Points thumb at her herself.*

Rather than squint at every piece, we decided to swap out my green guys for some red ones. Which helped, but I still couldn't see very well. But swapping the plastic ponies and soliders made everything come rushing back - the nagging feelings of fear, that there's no real quick fix for my eyesight, that if things keep deteriorating, what kind of vision will I have? Will I even be able to see if things get so poor? And so I said it, in a moment of hyperbolic self-pity:

"Babe, you know, it's possible that at the rate things are going, I could be blind as soon as... as soon as 40."

He pondered that for a sec, then titled his head and replied, "I'll always love you no matter what. Whether you're blind or not."

Of course I started tearing up. He was so sincere. And that, friends, is my favorite memory of 2011... knowing that I absolutely married the right man.

Love and light on this New Year's Eve. Even if you can't read those damn eye charts, may you always be able to see the good people in your lives.

Rachel

Sunday cooking: hit or miss, really...

2011-12-05T16:46:00.000-08:00

As far as energy levels go, I'm pretty bi-polar. But if ever there was a day infused with energy for starting over and kicking my bum into gear, it's a Sunday. Usually, depending on where the hubby is, I take Saturday's pretty slow. Sloth-like might be appropriate. But unless something is happening, it's my day to sleep-in, watch some TV, read, ignore the phone, forget about make-up, etc. I crash. And when Sunday comes along, I've had enough of my laziness and try to do something productive - laundry, light (emphasis on light) housework, grocery shopping, hanging out with girliefriends, etc.

This weekend was slightly atypical: starting with a Stuff-The-Bus fundraiser our station sponsored (during which I neglicted to wear warm enough socks and therefore shivered the entire six hour period) to my car's battery dying (holy $160 new battery, Batman!) and ending with the hubby's pooch getting hit and killed by a car on our death trap of a road - seriously, I am told this thing has contributed to more deaths than the Catholic Church is responsible for in Africa. Ha. See what I did there? Also, sorry Sam. Yes, you chewed my shit. But, no, you did not deserve to have your oh-so-chipper existence snuffed out so quickly. I am truly sorry and we will miss you.

Anyway, whereas this weekend was, well, chugging along at a different pace than those in the past, I have been trying to making an effort to reboot myself on Sundays. As of lately I've been working on my culinary skills. And trust me, they need help. However, I will admit that my most recent endeavor was a corn and cheese chowder recipe from The Pioneer Woman who, let's face it, beat me to the punch as far as city girls adapting to country life and blogging about it goes (remind me to tell you how small Twin Falls, Idaho, is in a future post). Granted, the fact that she blogs ~~more than once every three months~~ consistently certainly makes the fact that she's got her own TV show now easier to stomach. That and she can cook. I suppose that probably helps...

Anyhow, her corn and cheese chowder was fabulous - and gave me a few days' worth of lunches. The hubby not so much, since he's on the road and soup just doesn't travel quite so well, especially when you've got to reheat it. But that's ok. He's got a metabolism that's built for life on the road, and its subsequent fast and greasy food. Jerk.

The attempt before that was a butternut squash soup. I had come across a lovely little diner in Twin that served butternut squash soup TO DIE FOR. Considering I'd never had it before, I consider this a substantial statement. Regardless, the recipe I picked somehow included curry. Not sure why a red flag didn't go off in my head. The soup I had before was sweet. And, don't get me wrong, because whipping up a quick and delightful curry is on my Life List (which I intend to revisit at the end of this year), but... curry in butternut squash soup? Meh. Needless to say, while the hubby and I ate it for dinner, we weren't really fighting each other to get seconds or thirds.

I also attempted a lamb stew. But I did that the day after Thanksgiving, and it just didn't quite turn out, despite advice from my culinarily-gifted brother-in-law. I had issues with timing. Mainly because ~~I may or may not have left it in the crock pot for a few days~~ I just lost interest in it after the first cup, and there was no way I was going to be able to eat it all. (And then left it in the crock pot for a few days.)

However, even the sound of congealed lamb stew slopping onto the ground under the cover of nightfall behind a big tree next to the pasture is not enough to deter me. And even while, at this moment, a frozen casserole is cooking in the oven, I will try again. Though it might have to wait for Sunday. I guess that means I've got all week to troll around for what I'd like to try next. Perhaps something from Shutterbean, like banana donuts with peanut butter frosting. What, WHAT!? you say. I know. I know... or maybe some dijon-braised brussel sprouts from smitten kitchen - because I've been wanting to experiment with brussel sprouts. This seems an interesting way to go about it. All bets are off. But rest-assured, wine will be involved. We'll just see if I go the way of Hannah Hart or not.

P.S. Feeling on the uptick these days. +1 for being off meds, hooray! -1 for not exercising more than one day a week, boo! But I'm feeling good this evening, so... yay!

Camera bag

2011-08-16T17:27:00.000-07:00

I had to stretch on my tip toes to reach my camera bag this afternoon. With one hand already occupied with the phone in my ear, I one-armed it from its high throne then hoisted its bulk to the kitchen table.

We're talkin' old school camera here. So old school that after googling Walmart and Walgreens, I'm not entirely sure that they still do the 1-hour 35mm print dealios. This is somewhat alarming, considering this was the one positive step I could take toward pushing myself to better territory, this apparently archaic form of photography. And it almost didn't happen...

First, the battery was dead. Well, duh. It's only been lying dormant since my sophomore year of college, and no, I don't want to do the math and depress myself further. But to complicate things, the screw that held the battery case wouldn't unscrew. I unscrewed and I pulled and I tugged and I twisted and pinched and MY GOD it would NOT come out! Until the 105th try, apparently. Even then it came out grudgingly. Second, it looked like an alkali, battery acid explosion happened somewhere along the way, so there was some cleaning in order. But even with fresh batteries, the camera didn't turn on. I had to take the pack out, reverse the batteries (didn't work), and then reverse the batteries again (yes, I know this doesn't makes sense, but please don't judge). Randomly, for no apparent reason, the camera decided to turn on once the batteries had been placed in the exact same position as the first time. So. That was ~~rigoddamndiculous~~ fun.

But! Then she clicked... that exciting click of a legitimate camera that's ready for you to point her at that perfect light. Or the apricot tree in the back yard so thick with fruit you can practically hear it begging you to lighten the load. And another random tree in the back yard... and the dog. The new dog that the beau (soon to be hubby... hrrm, will have to play with new monikers) brought home who does. not. stop. chewing. shit. Including the wedding invites that showed up on our doorstep while I was inside cleaning and, as is imaginable, completely unaware that someone silently deposited such a ~~ungodly expensive~~ precious package. This dog and I have not started out on the right foot. He is not endearing me to him... the damn thing chewed up a bag of charcoal - wait for it - that he fished out from behind the full self-feeding container of dog food.

All of these pictures were being taken with my little sister on the phone... a sort of lazy conversation as I peered through the lense up into dangling green leaves and she browsed the six dollar rack in Target. I miss my sister... I miss my family. This has been a difficult - albeit good - transition, but that's a story for another day.

So that's Day 1 of busting out the camera. And yet another day I procrastinated my work out. Win/Fail. Draw?

A confession

2011-08-15T19:58:00.000-07:00

I'm obsessed with life. It sounds so saccharine, but it's not. It's a sham. You see, it's not my life I'm filling to the brim with activities and experiences and memories, no... I'm obsessed with other people's lives. Fail.

I am addicted to other people's blogs. I pore through their pictures and soak up their words, anxious to read through their stories and understand their issues, challenges, friendships. I walk away wondering why I don't have the same contented thoughts and reflections. I walk away almost depressed... Things look so beautiful, especially when framed through the lens of a camera I won't be able to afford until I win the lottery. So, you know, tomorrow... or something.

I know it sounds lame. It sounds so craptastically ridiculous even I have a tough time admitting it, but it's true. I think the most overwhelming thing is that I don't feel like I have the sort of life that is documentable. That could certainly be just a matter of perspective, but whatever it is, it is definitely the major contributor to the fact that I haven't posted since March. (Disclaimer: potential explanatory novel ahead.)

With my wedding fast approaching (Stress! So many loose ends! Not enough time!), I spend my time in waves: either stressing about working out and limiting my diet, contacting vendors and securing down payments and picking out colors, and then mentally collapsing. My brain seriously vapor locks. Picking flowers, choosing cupcake decorations, trying to decorate tables with zero dollars, wondering whether I'll be able to drop the weight I want to in the last remaining weeks, wondering if that handful of chips will undo all that I've lost so far, sweating about how it's all going to get funded. And we'll just avoid how poorly I've handled RSVPs. I just... crash. Suddenly my bed and a book sound delicious on a Sunday and getting up to make coffee, much less taking a run or checking my email, seems like a monumental undertaking with all the enormity of summiting Everest. That shit just ain't gonna happen right now.

And it feeds itself... this negative energy. I don't want to do much, and so I don't. And then I wonder why I don't have hobbies. And since there's not much to do, I continue to wallow. And wonder what other people are doing. Enter the blogs. And oh, the wonderful things they do! These worlds of happy friendship circles and on-the-corner coffee shops and picture-perfect 4-year-olds smiling and do it yourself renovations. They all wheedle under my skin and say "why don't you *do* something, Rachel? Why can't you put down the book and write one instead? Why can't you put on your apron and try to bake something? Why don't you develop an insatiable love for running?" These thoughts swoop at me, heavy like summer gnats, and I try desperately to ignore them. I don't know what it means. Does it mean I'm just not destined for domesticated mommyness even though it looks picture perfect? Does it mean that I'm just letting depressing thoughts win?

In truth, I've probably crossed into an unhealthy zone - one in which I spend more time inspecting and craving someone else's life instead of cultivating my own. I'd like to try to remedy that. I don't have a fancy schmancy CanonBajillion, but I do have an old-school Nikon (aside, do you know how cheap you can get 35mm film these days? PEANUTS, I tell you, PEANUTS!). Maybe I'll find some beauty through the lense, soak it up (then get them developed and then scanned into the computer and then shared... ugh, the process ahead!), try to re-awaken some vitality and appreciation for what I do have. I want to lead a life that someone else can envy... but, most importantly, I want to be comfortable in it. And I'm going to recommit to blogging. Maybe if I share the stories of my days I'll be more inclined to embark on adventures, make memories, try new things.

This was hard to admit. But in my little corner of the Interwebs, I hope I find support, instead of judgment.

Changes in 2011

2011-03-22T18:35:00.000-07:00

Well, thank goodness I have my laptop.

Right now I'm sitting in a lush house in Pocatello, Idaho, unwinding after day two of training for a new job.

It's awfully quiet here... quieter than it was when I was by my lonesome in my old town home - which was somewhat disconcerting to see emptied. But it's beautiful. Inside and outside. The owner of the TV station I'm going to work for owns this - and other houses on a sprawling property - home, and is graciously letting me stay here until I complete my training Friday. But it's quiet, and the satellite TV isn't hooked up. Not that I'm complaining. Just thankful I have my laptop and a trusty internet connection - and good TV that can be found via Hulu. (Read: House reruns, How I Met Your Mother episodes, and, of course, my constant diet of South Park.)

Although, the quiet does afford me some time to actually process the recent changes I've made in my life. I left my position at my old employer after almost a full three years and have taken a position at the FOX affiliate in Twin Falls, Idaho, where the beau happens to live. And I'm moving in with him...

So, ta da! It's not like I'm just changing jobs, I'm making several big changes at once: moving to a new and unfamiliar area, leaving family and friends, taking a sideways move into a role that is somewhat related to (though a departure from) my previous career, and - the kicker - I'm moving in with the beau.

Big changes, and they've all taken place in about four weeks. So, needless to say, the dust from these huge life decisions has yet to settle.

I'm both excited and nervous, and as my best friend told me today, it's normal - these are big things in your life... I'll balance out eventually.

I realize I'm rather infrequent in my postings, but I thought I'd let you know what I've been up to as of late. I'm hoping that this position will actually lend me more time to write - whether it be a blog post or a freelance piece or, my word I need to work on it, my novel.

I hope to elaborate on this more later on in the week, but, as always, don't hold your breath.

What title excuses that huge chunk of time during which I didn't write...?

2011-01-02T20:51:00.000-08:00

Heh. Maybe that one?

Hi, friends. The three of you look great! I come offering a quick, trite apology for my egregious lack thereof of posting (sorry) and a sort of bucket list - though I feel that particular phrase has a, shall we say, morbid connotation to it. I much prefer the term Mighty Life List, one I latched onto as a result of following some of the wonderful bloggers I've discovered in 2010 and a unique summit they attended where they discussed hopes, dreams, potential, and revved their engines to, in fact, attain the goals they set for themselves.

I find their attempt to put aspirations to paper (and into reality) inspiring and motivational - the jump-start I need to stop feeling mother-loving sorry for myself and learn to manually feed an IV of positivity through my veins. So here is my Mighty Life List.

---

My Mighty Life List

1. Speak fluent Italian
2. Write a novel
3. Make the New York Times Best-Seller list
4. Make Oprah’s Book Club
5. Go on a tropical cruise with Mom, Sis, and Arie
6. Take an extended vacation (1-2 months) in Italy
7. Wear a goddess dress in Greece
8. Learn to make home-made hummus
9. Write an article for Real Simple, Vanity Fair, Cosmopolitan, Glamour
10. Own a black writing desk with a complementary statement chair
11. Attend an opera at the MET and one in Paris
12. See a Broadway show – Anything Gershwin
13. Go to a BlogHer conference
14. Build a blog/community I enjoy on a daily basis
15. Live in Seattle
16. Wear a big hat at Churchill Downs for the Kentucky Derby
17. Take a 3-4-day train trip in Europe to eat cheese and bread and drink wine
18. Own a Great Dane
19. Own an Irish Thoroughbred
20. Make a difference with my writing – would love for someone to cite my book as one that “changed my life”
21. Bake and decorate a beautiful cake
22. Christen a boat
23. Take a bath in an old, claw-footed bathtub
24. Attend Mardi Gras
25. Whistle with two fingers for a New York taxi
26. Have dinner and drinks with Colleen McCollough
27. Have a wardrobe that rivals all wardrobes – simple and elegant
28. Be able to whip up yellow chicken curry in a snap
29. Make a list of all the little things that make me happy and update it once a year – keep it somewhere I can look at it often
30. Start a charity or a non-profit
31. Have professional, model-esque pictures taken of myself before I get horribly frumpy, dumpy and disfigured
32. Attend a Butch Thompson concert
33. Get off medication
34. Pay off all debts
35. Hang out behind the scenes to watch a feature film being made
36. Feel like I have my shit together
37. Ride a bike around Napa vineyards
38. Pay it forward – help someone out with college or a car
39. Finish the Napa photo project I started in high school
40. Learn to play the cello
41. Live in Florida
42. Salsa dance consistently – weekly
43. Meet Jenny – the Bloggess – and Heather – Dooce. Tell them how their unabashed brazenness has enriched my life, entertained me, and emboldened me.
44. Own a Porsche 911 Carrera
45. Watch the equestrian trials at the Olympics
46. Be able to discern the types of wine without looking at labels or getting hints from anybody
47. Truly, wholly enjoy what I do for a living – the measurement of success
48. Write a book that gets turned into a movie
49. Compile a list of 100 books to read – and read them
50. Enjoy a beer with friends while watching the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain
51. Ride in a hot-air balloon
52. Attend a clam bake in the Hamptons
53. Purchase an obscenely priced piece of art that really speaks to me
54. Go whale watching
55. Fly an airplane
56. Visit Atlantic City and walk the boardwalk
57. Grow my own grapes for wine
58. Revisit the Smithsonian museum
59. Track down ancestors from both my mom’s side and my dad’s side
60. Learn how to sail
61. Lazily tour the Louvre
62. Become a better public speaker
63. Visit London to ride the “Tube” and the London “Millennium” Eye
64. Donate blood more often
65. Learn how to Tango
66. Make pasta from scratch
67. Become a business owner or freelancer
68. Tour a high-rise city in a helicopter
69. Learn how to play tennis
70. Get comfortably snowed-in in a house on the East Coast
71. Enjoy a delectable dessert with port
72. Hear a presidential address
73. Watch the start of the Rolex Sydney Hobart Yacht Race
74. Attend (or compete in!) the Rolex Kentucky
75. Host a caviar and champagne tasting party
76. Actually save up to subsist without a job for at least 6 months
77. Visit the Pearl Harbor memorial
78. Read all of Agatha Christie’s work
79. Attend a costume ball
80. Buy coffee for the person in the car behind me in the drive-through line
81. Ride a zipline on a tropical island
82. Donate more to the food bank
83. Memorize and play Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue on the piano
84. Have drinks at an actual jazz/blues bar
85. Collect and display sand from beaches from all the continents
86. Throw a surprise party for someone I love to pieces
87. Attend Mighty Summit
88. Write down my grandparents’ life stories
89. Complete a remodeling project, or house
90. Have a restaurant prepare a fish that I caught myself
91. Meet Trey Parker and Matt Stone and thank them
92. Hole up in a beach house for a week (or longer) with someone I love
93. Spend a night in San Antonio near the river
94. Attend a writer’s conference
95. Be known as the best maker of spaghetti sauce ever
96. Take a cooking class
97. Buy more of my food from farmer’s markets
98. Try a Barolo (it’s a wine)
99. Enjoy dinner and drinks and discussion with Bill Maher
100. Ensure the literary world remembers my name
101. Be happy

I encourage you to write your own. It's truly cathartic. Also, when you're done, it counts as a blog post! Va bene!

My best to you and yours in 2011.

P.S. Awesome bloggers I've discovered this year: Hyperbole and a Half, David Thorne, Oh Noa, Anne Nahm, Naked Cupcakes. And it's late, so I'm going to let you google them yourselves.

The Spawn of Satan

2010-03-28T08:31:00.000-07:00

*GASP* Such a controversial title, I know. But before I explain, I just want to put it out there that I have such a burning desire to write about what's currently happening with the Republican Tea Party members. It will most certainly be my next post - because I think, as an American, it is part of my duty to point out the regression of adult behaviors as of late. For lack of a better word, it is appalling.
But more on that later.

For now, I shall recant the story of the Demon Child - which spans over a few months, so it may be somewhat lengthy (I'll apologize early).

---

As I write this, I'm listening to music on my brand new high-falluten' BlackBerry Bold. This is music that was on my old BlackBerry that, ever since the Gin & Tonic incident of Shinedown, I was unable to access.

Let's start with the Gin & Tonic incident. It's my typical go-to libation when wine doesn't seem fitting. I had bought tickets for myself and the beau to a Shinedown concert and we joined up with a few friends at a cramped table with dollhouse proportioned chairs. At some point in the night (during the THREE opening acts who each took an HOUR!! *sigh*), somebody at the table spilled G&T on my phone. Oops. Accidents happen... it didn't sizzle in a catastrophic display of shrieking motherboards, but the track ball simply refused to depress properly when the liquid finally dried in a few hours.

Ok. Fine. I can deal with that. To their credit, BlackBerry equips their phones with multiple ways to accomplish a task. To select something, I pressed the enter button - I acclimated quickly. But shortly thereafter, the track ball wouldn't navigate down. That was a little more debilitating. I could open the menu, but I couldn't select any feature below the top line of items. Drat. Even on the few occasions I could wrestle it down to choose my music or my pictures, good luck scrolling through to find what you were looking for!

My contract with T-Mobile was due to expire May 31, 2010. When this happened back in September(ish?), I resolved myself to suck it up and push through. Having My Mini on Verizon, it just seemed prudent to switch the phone over and consolidate when I wouldn't incur any termination fees.

Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha... oh so funny.

I stuck it out for a long time. I even let the phone act out its tantrums (not unlike the GOP - OH SNAP!) and wait for it to return to its regular BlackBerry functionality. Case in point. One evening about a month ago, I was with a group of friends at one of our favorite Irish pubs attempting to text the beau. Perhaps it was resentful I hadn't supplied it with more G&T, but every time I would open an SMS message to craft, I would enter one character and the phone would automatically send. Question mark?

For example: "Sorry, I don't know what's up with my phone... call you tomorrow" became... "A" or, if I got lucky, "So."

I would literally open a message only to have it send before I could write anything. But the next morning it was fine. I chocked it up to the phone being in it's old age and having either a senile moment or a dive back into a childish temper tantrum (insert Tea Party joke here). For the next month it was, um... manageable. Make it to May... Make it to May... Make it to May...

And then there was this Friday. At the same pub, with a slightly larger group of friends, I set my phone on the table - maybe my subconscious was prompting me... not sure. The screen was dark - and then... suddenly! From no where, it lights up and begins dialing 411. By itself! I let out a less than lady-like expletive and hollered at everyone to watch. I disconnected the call and it did it again! Within seconds! We went back and forth, BlackBerry and I... back and forth. Until it seemed to calm down. It went to bed, black and quiet. But twenty minutes later we all gaped open-mouthed when it started sending blank texts (to lord only knows... SORRY... I couldn't stop it to view my outbox).

It became the paranormal tour de force phone. Or, a big fat pain in the...

I took the battery out for the remainder of the evening and popped it in only on the drive home, when I took the opportunity to call the beau. The conversation went fairly smoothly until I noticed "boop BOOP" *pause* "BOOP boop" "boop BOOP" *pause* "BOOP boop."

"Do you hear that?" (Sound occurring simultaneously in the background)
"No, what?"
"That noise.. the beeping."
"The whatting? You cut out."
"The beeping."

I checked my screen and discovered the phone had decided it'd be funny to mute and un-mute my conversation in rapid succession. BECAUSE IT'S THE SPAWN OF SATAN.

When I could manage, I told the beau that I'd just have to call him tomorrow, after I went to the store and fixed this craptastic behavior. You have no clue how much restraint I had to exert. That phone should have been dropped three stories onto the jagged rocks below my bedroom window - or hurled wildly onto my wall - or driven over by my car. Because, remember, when an object is "controlled by or as if by a spirit or other force," it is POSSESSED!

It seemed to be ok in the morning... and I spent a fair amount of time on the phone with my sister. But when I met some friends for lunch, I got a text message.

"My birthday was last month."

?.... I called the sender. "I'm so sorry... did my phone send you something weird?"

"Uh, no, but it sent me a birthday text..."

My phone was continuing to operate unbeknownst to me - sending errant birthday messages with no rhyme or reason behind my back. Later, trying on gorgeous dresses that a) I have no function to wear them to and b) would have bankrupted me in one fell swoop, the phone started sending the beau blank pictures in blocks of three or five.

That was the last straw. I yanked the battery out, stuffed the pieces into my bag, and hightailed it to the T-Mobile store. My first words to the poor rep were:

"I need help. My phone is possessed." After a quick rundown of its crazy poltergeist tendencies, I put the battery back in and let it do its thing. It didn't disappoint.

And that is how (oh, that and a $500 credit I'd somehow racked up with T-Mobile) I have come to own the new BlackBerry Bold. Which is beautiful. And riddled with more bells and whistles than I need. But more importantly, it isn't BEELZEBUB'S OFFSPRING.

Oh - P.S. I pulled the vid from YouTube. That is not me... not my voice... not my phone... but it did illustrate pretty well what my phone was doing. It's slower than my phone, but - hey. At least you got a visual.

Sinking my teeth into a book review...

2010-03-24T18:40:00.000-07:00

Thanks to My Mini's monitor practically separating from the keyboard (Yipe!) I've been out of commission for a bit... but over my delay, I had the opportunity to catch up with just-published author: Ms. Maripoza Cruz.

Her book, Howl (see below for a brief synopsis), was just released a few weeks ago and we had some time to catch up. An aspiring author myself, I'm in awe of her committment to her passion. And while I may not dabble so much in the paranormal romance genre as of late, I still can't help but be inspired by the example she's set!

So without further ado, here's the conversation I had with Ms. Cruz regarding her life as a multi-tasking professional and an author, and what it took to get there. :)

RG: What made you want to write in the first place?

MC: As a kid I loved to read and dream up stories. And if I’m not making up my own stories, I’m searching out other people’s stories.

RG: Who are your writing role-models?

MC: My maternal grandmother was a wonderful story-teller and avid letter writer. Her letters read as if she were sitting across the table instead of across the country. All of her writing was for her family, including a memoir of our journey to California from Indiana. I met Carol Lloyd at one of her readings in San Francisco. Her Creating a Life Worth Living is a must-read for any artist who longs to blend creative pursuits with a day job.

RG: What's on your nightstand right now?

MC: Hallelujah the Welcome Table by Maya Angelou. It’s a collection of her essays and recipes—literary comfort food.

RG: How did you get interested in the paranormal romance genre?

MC: I've always been drawn to the supernatural as well as classic monster movies. I’ve had fun creating a sub-culture of characters who manage their otherworldy traits in the "real world."

RG: So have you read the Twilight series, or the Sooki Stackhouse books? What are your thoughts?

MC: I haven't read Sookie Stackhouse series yet, it's on my list. I enjoyed Twilight. I'm definitely for Team Jacob (I like my heroes warm-blooded).

RG: It looks like you've intertwined your professional experience and extra-curricular hobbies. What was it like merging the two worlds?

MC: Sometimes absolute chaos, but it is well-worth it. With a family and a full-time job, it is an on-going challenge to stay focused on my goals and at the same time being flexible enough to keep up with my kids.

RG: I know myself how hard it is to get the words on the paper (or word doc)! And you're balancing work and kids, too... What was your motivation to stick with it?

MC: Even with ever-pressing time constraints I'm happier with writing in my life than out of it. Sometimes the bigger the challenge, the more determined I am to prove I can do it.

RG: We're really proud of you and thrilled for your book! We consider your hard work and success an empowering example that hard work and commitment pays off. How do you feel about being such a positive influence?

MC: Thanks Rachel. I hope when people see my life, they are encouraged to follow their own dreams. It is essential to pursue your dreams even if you can only take baby steps.

--

Take a peek at the premise of Ms. Cruz's book - so proud of her accomplishment! Congratulations, lady!

*As if Kate Owens doesn't have enough problems as a struggling single mom and paralegal, a brutal animal attack outside her office plunges her into turmoil. At work, she is attracted to her rescuer, Jack Walker, an attorney wary of commitment. Every morning after the attack she awakes drenched in blood beside the body of a mangled stray. Kate's days become a battle to maintain control while her nights are a disturbing blur of dreams. Will Kate's nightly madness harm her young daughter?
Lone wolf attorney, Jack Walker understands the reason for his paralegal's exhaustion and haunted demeanor. Jack has pursued the beast since law school graduation and he knows the creature's relentless thirst for revenge. Can Jack save Kate from her attacker and her own savage nature?

If you're interested, you can grab your copy here.

While waiting for fat fat fatty food...

2010-02-16T19:16:00.000-08:00

To those who cried "It didn't happen if you don't have pictures!" I proudly present:

Rachel and the iPatch - the Haikus

In line for fast food
Dear Lord! You're taking pictures?
But, no! The iPatch!

I guess it's useless
The lopsided smile proclaims
My french fries are here!

And there you have it, dear readers - The iPatch in all of its glory.

P.S. Disregard the skewed makeup... keep in mind I'd been upside down and my eyes had been bombarded with liquids.

The iPatch

2010-02-11T18:28:00.000-08:00

Note to Reader: To further prove I am, indeed, writing this with an eye patch on, I'm not going to edit it with a fine tooth comb. You may find errors. They're semi-intentional. Seriously. Let's see how you type with one eye. One craptastic-vision, kerataconus-beleaguered, astigmitized eye.

If you've been following my blog for a while, you know that back in June or July of last year my eyes were dubbed "The Most Diseased in the Land." Ok, so it wasn't quite like that, but I was diagnosed with Giant Papillary Conjunctivitus in both eyes and a touch of Kerataconus in my left eye. Google'em. I dare you. From then on, I went back every two weaks or so to monitor the application of the Killer Eye Drops of Death and grimace as the doctor non-chalantly commented that, "Nope... not much improvement at all." About a month or two later, I noticed a little bump on my eye... a stye, or sty, or - however you spell it, it was basically a little nodule on my eyelid. Not that bad at first, but it didn't seem to go away. In fact, this pesky little barnacle GREW! I tried a hot compress several times, but it didn't seem to go away. So my doc scheduled me for a procedure to remove it.

"It's a tiny little procedure, won't take more than 10 minutes or so."

To fast forward, what follows is a stream of realizations that occured between walking in the door and this point now - the point at which I've realized I hop on a plane tomorrow evening, and will have to pack a bag with one eye. Arrrggg.

I'm probably over-engineering this in my head... this'll be nothing.
I wonder what my eye patch will look like.
Should have taken Sarah L. up on her offer to bedazzle an eye patch. Would have been awesome...
Dang, they called my name already? They must have been serious about this.
Nicest tech ever...
Why must we check my vision every time? I know it's bad, you know it's bad... let's just call it bad and skip that point until I'm actually fitted for lenses.
Do you not take notes? These same questions have been asked at every single session I've had. No. I have not developed any allergy to medicines in the past month.
Well, that was fast I guess. Out of one chair and down the long hallway.
Pretty quiet back here... ooo - that's a big room.
I swear, that's a dentist's chair {instant discomfort).
Yes, the room is imposing, but the tech is nice, and I have to take off my glasses... well, who didn't see that coming. THey are slicing into my eye lid.
Well, the chair's not too uncomfortable.
Sad. Three feet away from the cabinets labeled by contents and I can't read crap.
Oh my. You're actually going to put a surgical cap on my head? It doesn't matter if it has butterflies on it, I can't see them from this distance anyway.
Aaaand back we go. Inverted.... head lower than my feet. Weird.
Fine time to look up and realize that with my brown pants, black top and black shoes, I chose blue socks. Good thing my pants are revealing that fact.
Oh. My. God. I've been like this for 35 minutes.
Numbing drops in both eyes, iodine in the right eye... stingy.
No techs in the room and my eyes ITCH and are STINGING and are WATERING. And I can't touch it because I've been disinfected.
Thank goodness, Rob, the nice tech, notices my discomfort and puts more numbing drops in my right eye. Thank goodness! Instant relief.
He turns the light off when he goes to grab the doctor. Ahh... much better.
Aaand the doctor arrives (at 5).
Big circle of light is jockeyed into position of my eye. I think I understand what Johnny Cash was referring to... after a few blinks, it looks like someone drew on the underside of my lids with a spirograph.
Awww I get a hand holder... that's cute...
You're going to put my eye in a clamp? That sounds delightful...
So the anesthetic will pinch and hurt a bit? But stifle the impulse to jump? Ok, doesn't sound so bad...
Pinch. Meh. That's nothing.
JESUS BURNING FIRE IN MY EYE! GET IT OUT! IT'S KILLING MY EYE! LIQUID LAVA! WHEN WILL IT END????
Katie's hand must be crushed...
Oh lord, I think the needle's out now. THANK GOD.
ONE MORE? You're kidding, right?
DEFINITELY NOT KIDDING!!!! OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD... Uncle.
Not jumping is fairly tiring. I'm noticing that I'm actually tired from shivering and clenching.
Pressure on the eyelid, though I can't see anything.
Doc says he's already got most of the {can't remember the exact word - debris, obstruction, goop, gunk?} out.
Seriously? That was like 5 minutes of fire and 5 seconds of scooping. Ridiculous.
More numbing drops...
Bye Katie... Seriously. Thanks. You're job is underrated.
The pressure pack Rob is putting on is white and decidedly un-piratey. That sucks. People are going to be somewhat disappointed. We talked in pirate all day at work today.
Keep it on all night, ointment in the a.m., no aspirin. Uh, ok.
I have to see the doc in a week? Ugggghhh.
I want something happy. Something comforting.
WINE.
Oh I want a glass of wine so bad I can taste it.
I should probably check with the receptionist - she didn't hear the doc say no wine, right?
Damn it. Wine is technically a blood thinner. Same as aspirin. Damn. Damn. Damn.
There's the ride...
Please don't laugh at me... please don't laugh at me...
Whew - no laughing. And he'll even take me to Jack in the Box to eat fat fat fatty food since I can't enjoy a simple glass of wine. If anything, that stuff should conjeal the blood. That's... good... right?
Traffic isn't that bad. Shocking.
Aand home.
Amazing cheeseburger and french fries. Amazing.
Damn it - I have to pack a bag for my flight to visit the beau tomorrow. With one eye. And no glasses. This should be interesting...

There you have it, dear reader (all 3 of you)... Sadly, it's not a pirate eye patch. Sarah really did offer to bedazzle/bejewel an eye patch and send it my way. Which was very generous. And now, I wish I'd taken her up on it. This pressure pack is white, and has the stickiest tape known to man. It's very 21st century. It's the iPatch of eye patches.

And there's no word yet on whether the GPC has regressed, or whether the Keretaconus has stopped progresing. But I suppose I can always ask next week.

P.S. The good news is I can take this off tomorrow a.m. ANd the iodine on my face will wash off. Thank goodness. Because I'm pretty sure the flight attendants might hesitate before serving a drink to someone who already looks like they've made some bad decisions.

P.P.S. Wow... I haven't incorporated this many tags onto one post... ever... I think...

WHY did you capitalize that!?

2010-01-29T19:50:00.000-08:00

I have a problem: I can't stop editing.

I freely admit it. I've come to terms with it. I understand it drives some of my friends crazy. But when half of your job is writing and the other half is editing, it's tough to suppress the urge around written word. Which is pretty much everywhere, so...

The other night I had dinner with a friend at a fairly new restaurant (I won't name names, but I will mention that grass skirts are a feature) here in Reno. Aside from a waiter permanently stuck in fast-forward, it wasn't half bad. But the menu.... *cringe.* Oh, the menu!

So as to not totally point fingers or condemn, I'll ad lib what I'm talking about. But this is the type of absent editing that makes me mad: the random deeming of nouns to proper nouns. I'm sorry, but when did red wine become "our Premium selection of Red wine?" (Underneath which is a list of Cab, Zin and Merlot labels - Kendall Jacksons and BV Coastals usually dominate on these sorts of menus; not to stereotype or anything).

Cringe-worthy examples:

Steak Gorgonzola Pasta
Angel Hair Pasta with Sharp chunks of Gorgonzola cheese, Infused with Red Bell Peppers and Grilled potatoes.
WHAT??

Mahi Mahi Sandwich
Taste the Tropical Waters with our Renowned Mahi Mahi sandwich on a sesame seed Bun. Paired with Macadamia Nut Shredded Coleslaw and Baked Fries, you'll swear you were transported to this Fabulous Vacation Hot Spot.
Eye twitching.

Looking for a bit more of a visual example? This is made even worse by the hooker bit, but it perfectly captures the random nouns made proper. :)

Thanks to Bad Menu for this fabulous picture... feel free to browse for more menu/restaurant atrocities.

If you want to see a few more of my career-instigated pet peeves, visit:

The Apostrophe Abuse blog. Prolific apostrophes do not an accurate sentence make.

The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks. Having worked with a few people who actually abuse quotations in emails, and face to face, this one strikes a very big cord with me.

Unlike the drive home, this'll be quick and concise

2010-01-27T20:20:00.000-08:00

A few days ago, dazed by the red glare glistening at me through my rain-pelted windshield, I tried to tell myself it could be worse: my commute home could be somewhere in L.A. While I've never really done the 5 o'clock rush in the city of angels, the frustration and grip-the-wheel tension is so legendary that I swear I've felt it before.

But for some reason, during the rain and the stop-go, stop-go, good-lord-where'd-you-learn-how-to-drive, stop-go, I had a weird epiphany. One I should have had looong ago given my job.

When I'm stuck at work, when nothing's coming, I just start writing. If I'm tasked with a lengthy article and I'm not quite sure how to start it, even with an outline staring back at me (on bad days it can become a staring match), I just start writing. Randomly. I write, and I write flippantly, about things that may relate, about tangents, about what someone else might think about the topic, about - well... about whatever little thing pops into my head.

And by the time I've done that for about 45 minutes or so, a nugget pops out. I've started shoveling and shoveling, engrossed in the act of heaving down and shirking out the dirt. And finally I remember to look over my shoulder, only to find: Hey! That's valuable - I could totally use that!

From that point, the piece works itself out. I incorporate interviews or context or historic quotes, whatever it takes to polish the piece into a gem.

Well, in my spare time (hahahahaha, spare time, that's funny), I've resumed work on a piece of fiction I believe in. I think about it every chance I can. I listen to music that I envision would accompany it on the big screen (don't laugh). I construct twists and catches and pivotal moments in my head...

But when I get home, it seems like a monstrous project. Basically, I think about shoveling all day, but once I'm standing there with the spade in my hand, my Brain says: "By golly! You want me to shovel that???"

Yes, Brain. Let's start. We are going to write. We are going to write flippantly, about things that may relate, about tangents, about what someone else might think about the topic, about - well... about whatever little thing pops in mind. And the more we get engrossed, the more valuable our piece of work will be.

So there, Brain.

And who knows, maybe one day I will be sitting down with the composer (Harry Gregson-Williams or Thomas Newman?), detailing what kind of score would go best with the characters.

And if I'm really lucky, maybe Denzel would consider being my male lead.

Writing what makes me happy

2010-01-18T10:54:00.000-08:00

Back when I was in fifth grade, I tied a string around my bike's handle bars and gave it a name: Syllable. Lord knows why I gave my make-shift horse (technically, he was a stud) an English language function of a name... but I loved riding that thing - imagining it was a Warmblood, or an Irish Thoroughbred: the kind of horse I put on a pedestal.

No matter that my own horse, Sinbad, who lived and breathed and had made an impressive recovery from his previous owner's ignorant perception of how to feed a horse (he was severely malnourished when we purchased him), was a few yards away in our pasture. Syllable was perfection - the ideal that would never be tainted, seeing as I couldn't obtain it, or him, rather.

Sometimes I wonder if that's why I struggle with writer's block. Perhaps the ideas in my head, which I nurture and feed and condition and love as much as I loved Syllable, become less beautiful and impactful the moment they're real and on the page.

As the snow outside my window has been falling continually, I've realized that I've simply been watching it descend peek after peek, day after day - inching closer, closer, until I'm looking into a white soup of snow - and the piece on My Mini hasn't progressed whatsoever. What is it about procrastination and writer's block that seems to get the best of writers? Wouldn't it be so easy to just finish what needs to be done and not worry about it? Maybe. Maybe it's because writing is so subjective, as is how these pieces will be read. Everyone has an opinion, whether it's something I write for work or something I write for myself. No matter what kind of a writer you are, I think it's fair to say we want our work to be seen favorably.

But I think it's time for me to stop spinning my wheels and get back on the real pony - get back to what I really enjoy writing: fiction - and some funny blog posts.

Because really... who didn't enjoy the fact that I doused practically my entire room with candle wax?

My resolution...

2010-01-10T11:10:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I marvel at the amount of pharmacy prescription cards that live in my wallet. Stress definitely took it's toll on me in 2009.

After my recent two week vacation (regrettably, there was no fabulous destination, just my mom's place), I realized that the many worries I've collected, hoarded in all corners of my brain, were never far from my thoughts - despite the family, the wine, the beau, and the multiple opportunities for sleeping in. They rankled around in my head even on Christmas day, determined to intrude on even the most revered 'throw-your-cares-away' day of all.

So in 2010, my resolution is to get better. To cast the anxiety away, or at least make it more manageable. 2009 taught me that your physical health is closely tied to your mental health. My priority this year is to take the steps I need to take to improve.

I'm not ashamed to admit that today, getting better happens to consist of soft blanket, a plush couch, and perhaps my favorite movie of last year - 'Up.' I'm doubly warranted to indulge in this lazy Sunday activity because of the persistent fog and drizzle that's settled over Reno for the past few days. In fact, Reno has been a canvas of gray as of late, reminiscent of Seattle, except sans rain. I much prefer rain, instead of clouds that chronically tease.

This year will be dedicated to finding what works for me - what keeps me sane, what makes me happy, what works to alleviate stress - and I hope you find what works for you.

Ciao for now...

How Google saved my evening, or: How college dorm administrators were right about candles.

2009-12-07T17:23:00.000-08:00

Every woman is in some small way attached to her hairdryer. Of course, that could just be me, but there's a reason why we cart our own hefty piece of mobile air on trips - hesitant to place our hair into the hands of a cheap, quickly manufactured hotel hairdryer.

Of course, today, I fell in love with my own just a little bit more. This realization hit me while I was kneeling on my bathroom floor, aiming my blue hairdryer at my large Robert Doisneau print that usually resides above my bed.

To back up...

Reno has been in the midst of quite the snow storm today. So crazy that, as I peeked out my front window to check conditions (it started snowing yesterday early evening), I saw a firetruck and an ambulance a mere 50 feet from my staircase. In snow chains. In about a foot and a half of snow (I would have taken pictures, but my phone is at memory capacity and won't let me save them...). Needless to say, without chains, I was not confident in my ability to schlepp across town, and stayed home to work.

It was a gorgeous work day - blindlingly white, unceasingly precipitous, but gorgeous. And despite some writer's block on a certain email, the day went pretty well. With one of my favorite candles lit, the thermostat at 69-70, a fabulous breakfast burrito, and whatever noise in the background I felt like, I thoroughly enjoyed the way the world seemed to push pause outside. I even took a break around 2:30 to take a walk outside in the white (trekking back in about 20 minutes later with semi-permanent red cheeks and ice blocks for ears).

My second break came after I finished pulling a round of prospecting lists - feeling quite ambitious, I opted to rotate my mattress (I don't have the best mattress, so I typically rotate every few months - don't judge). I stripped my comforter and sheets and set about the slow but less-exhausting-than-flipping-it-by-myself method of pushing and pulling it into its new position. Which, in hindsight, may have not been a good idea, given the burning candle on top of my headboard.

In college, they strictly prohibited the use of candles, fearing the ease with which that flame could lick right through the cardboard-like dorm furniture provided in each room. The No Candles mantra includedg incense and candle warmers... which was fine. And the first apartment away from campus I lived in became the poor victim of a woman gone crazy with the candles collected from gifts over the years, confident in her ability to use candles appropriately. As it turns out, even a woman several years out of college can misuse candles. Because as soon as I gave the mattress a big push, it rammed into the precarious headboard, jarring the big Robert Doisneau print that leans ever so delicately against the wall, sending it tumbling over a stack of books, pictures, and (in case I didn't mention it) the candle that had been burning since 9 a.m. What once was a pool of melted wax became a waterfall cleaning nightmares are made of as I watched helplessly, ducking my head as it splashed onto the box spring, the carpet, the headboard, my new purse, my mattress pad, my dresser, and the picture. Did I mention the carpet?

After a few frustrated swipes with a hot towel on my headboard and dresser, and some harried scraping with a knife - not so fun/easy - I resorted to Google, asking how the heck do you get wax out of your carpet!? Because, as much as I love periwinkle blue that smells like rain, I don't necessarily prefer it in my carpet. The answer? A hairdryer. And as I knelt in front of the large picture leaning against my bathroom door, I fell in love with that piece of feminine machinery once again. A quick shot of dedicated hot air and a towel swipe later, it was like a brand new piece of art. I felt a bit like a restoration artist... I knew the sheer joy that comes from removing an obstruction in order to see the original beauty underneath. Yeah. I know. It's small. But hey - I will take my kicks where I can get them these days.

And now that I've shuffled as much down to the laundry as possible and cleaned as much splotchy wax as is visible (and made a killer dinner burrito - which is truly saying something, since I'm devoid of domestic cooking skills), I'm going to get back to work.

P.S. I think it's finally stopped snowing...

Who I'm thankful for

2009-11-03T19:49:00.000-08:00

Remember that time I said I was going to be more dedicated at blogging?

Yes, well, hopefully I've trained you, dear reader, to be immune to my lack of frequency. But this evening, with Ruby in a most precariously globular stupor and the jasmine oil diffuser that's helping me slough off anxiety, I feel a bit like I can take yet another stab at this.

I've been stuffing my face with Vince Guaraldi music since last week and trying to turn off the bad switches in my head so I can somewhat calm down (turns out, actual REM sleep is not overrated). It's not a cure in pill form, per se, but it is certainly helpful. Like the jasmine, and most importantly, like my mom.

So here is to that person that helps you stay sane - that person that helps you realize a number of things, but ultimately brings about the epiphany that helps you understand that, regardless of your issue(s), it is going to be ok. And because of her gracious selflessness, her acute devotion to integrity and humility and unconditional love, this post is dedicated to my mother. Because of all the things I am truly grateful for, her presence - her being there for me - is of the utmost importance to me.

Mom's lessons from the Thanksgiving weekend:

Humility - doesn't have to be an admittance of inferiority. It is merely humility - an acceptance and willingness to be quiet and learn.
Creativity - it takes serious energy to be creative. Without energy, creativity suffers.
Health - is paramount. Everything centers around your sanity. Protect it at all costs.
Stress - destroys it all. Protect yourself against it at all costs.
Anxiety - change the fear switch into something positive, into resolve.
Judgement - shouldn't come from those who love you...

And most importantly, because I needed to hear it:

I'm not alone.

Thanks for everything, Mom. I love you with all of my heart!

Balance Pt. 2: Education/Enjoyment

2009-10-06T20:43:00.000-07:00

If you're like me, magazines give you a certain amount of joy. There's just something about the flip of crisp pages, the glossy photographs, the carefully constructed editorial, the timely investigative pieces, the tell-tale scent of perfume, the peek at fall fashion...

Oh... wait... alright. I'll admit it - I buy Glamour and Cosmopolitan each month (I am a girl...so...). I'm well aware that they're the same 10 articles recycled each and every month, but there's something about the frivolity. Something about the lack thereof of necessary brain power that is alluring. Plus, you can find amazing uses for household items like dryer sheets or nail polish or picture wire. I can make pasta puttanesca with picture wire? What?? And (remember, now, I'm a girl) there are pictures of clothes - boots - hair dos. Oh yeah. It's a guilty pleasure.

We should all have a guilty pleasure. I've got more than one. And I'm ok with that. My father once asked me why I watched the Simpsons after work and South Park at night.

"Because at the end of the day, when you've been high-energy, high-focus the entire time, sometimes it's necessary to do something devoid of thought."

Sometimes you've got to inject your high-voltage day with a little vanilla. Even if you're not learning a whole lot, setting your brain on auto-pilot can help you recharge for day 2, 5, or 23.

Of course, this is not to say these mindless activities should comprise your entire extra-curricular diet. There's got to be some awareness that your brain needs to learn more - that it needs to be challenged by new and exciting thoughts, concepts, activities. And, since I'm not the rock-climbing, bungee-jumping, jump-out-of-a-plane-while-it's-actually-flying type of girl, I try to dip into my stash of books - which is easier said than done (Poor Anna Karenina is still waiting for me to break the half-way mark and the abridged works of Churchill sits quitely, waiting for me to at least break out of the prologue). But I'm buzzing through Misquoting Jesus: The Story of Who Changed the Bible and Why, and am starting Groundswell (I know, right? Finally.).

I'll admit, some of the articles in those magazines make me cringe - partly because they're indicative of what young woman today find important. Bah. The editorial is crafted around what will sell, and if that is what we're consuming voraciously, then, well, somebody's got to capitalize on it. Secondly, because some of that stuff is just so blatantly common sense that it's amazing someone expanded the piece into 500 words. I've certainly been known to skip the "If-you-pout-your-lips-like-so-" articles... And of course, there's always the juxtaposition of size 0 celebrity stalking and gaunt models draping themselves over chaise lounges amid a deluge of "celebrate-your-body" stories.

I figure so long as I keep it balanced - a little of this here, a little of that there - it's ok to enjoy both.

And as bold as this statement is, I just don't know if I could stay sane if it weren't for South Park.

P.S. Saw the new issue of Glamour on stands today... will have to pick it up tomorrow.

The best text message I've ever received

2009-10-05T20:28:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, you just get lucky. Not the "everything went my way" kind of luck, not the "thank goodness my brakes work" kind of luck. No, sometimes you get lucky in that you're the recipient of something that makes you literally die laughing.

After finishing the first mile at the gym this afternoon I was the lucky recipient of a text message that quite literally made me "LOL" - save for the fact I was already breathless. You'll have to excuse my moment of immaturity, but I'm pretty sure I haven't been this amused in a while...

"Totally de-wedgied myself at the EXACT moment cute frozen food aisle guy at Trader Joe's rounded the corner to become cute junk food aisle guy. Ha ha. FML."

Oh my. Thank you, friend - you know who you are. And even though you told me I could mention your name, I don't think it's necessary. This was so entertaining it made me forget about the long day at work, the horrible traffic, the completely baffling WWE wrestling on the TV in front of my treadmill (no, seriously - why do they have to wear underwear? Who's idea was it to have tree-trunks of men in itty-bitty spandex whirling each other around on the springboard boxing ring? I'm pretty sure it wasn't a woman).

There you have it.

My incredibly mature, sophisticated, eloquent post for the evening.

P.S. James Earl Jones is the most amazing guest star on House M.D. yet.

Balance part 1: Work/Rest

2009-09-30T20:40:00.000-07:00

"Because I can't do math..."

This has long since been the answer to why I write, tracing all the way back to middle school essays titled "My favorite school subject: English." I never profess to be the Grand Poobah of all things numeric. Occasionally I can pull the right fraction/sum/price+tax out of my head, but if I'm after accuracy, I like to rely on a calculator.

This being said, when I was the quoted the 20 percent savings I got today for the brake job on my car, something screamed "I'M BEING SCREWED."

"Um, there is no way that that is right."

"I guess it kind of looks funny..."

*Pause...*

"Well could you double check? There is no way that that is 20 percent. That just doesn't sound right..."

*Pause...*

"Oh, ok. Um, I don't have a calculator so, hold on..."

Lest I drag this one out, he figured the right balance out - finally.

For some of us, figuring out how to achieve the correct balance doesn't always come easy, whether it's calculating a percentage or getting the right combination of work and rest. There isn't always a calculator handy - nor do we always know which variables will equal a successful combination.

When it comes to the work/rest balance, it's incredibly difficult to grasp. In the words of Tina Fey's Liz Lemmon from 30 Rock: Blerg. I don't even have the right equation yet, but I'm working on it. September's craziness put a punctuation mark on its importance. There is only so much you can do before you run into that wall and crash.

It's imperative to check yourself, to make sure that brake system is working, and (here's the key), to use it. If I don't give myself at least one day out of the week to stop - to let the day's schedule be devoid of any pressing appointments, overbearing inboxes, or relentless chores, my on-the-job performance declines the next week. I'll end up passing out for an entire evening mid-week because I just don't have the juice to go forward.

I used to feel guilty about not being productive in a given day. We live in a world that enables productivity every minute of the day. The wealth of technology, software and media allow for constant connection to work and social life. But taking at least one day of the week to wipe obligations away certainly helps me. Without it, I end up feeling worn down. Tasks and assignments run into each other like some Rorschach version of Sesame Street and the words (you know, those things I love so very much) seem to bear down, ganging up and flying at me in droves too large to manage. At that point to go on detox. As of lately, I've been keeping my play lists to classical and opera, to minimize words, or at least the ones I can decipher.

When you don't pump the brakes it's hard to test your ability to stop. And if you can't stop, that wall will come on fast - too fast - with crippling implications. And we just don't have all the time in the world to recover.

Are your brakes working?

You're dang skippy it's been a few weeks!

2009-09-29T21:28:00.000-07:00

Of course it's been a few weeks since I've posted.

This is all intentional. I'm really trying to coax my readers into an anxious state of loyalty so they keep checking to make sure their RSS feed hasn't somehow crapped out on them allowing them to miss my latest, greatest post.

Ha ha. That bit of hubris was brought to you by the hour 9:30 p.m. (It was fun, right? I had a good time...) I promise I haven't deluded myself so much to believe I have such crazed readers, or much less, an amount of readers greater than I can count on my two hands.

Regardless, as I may have mentioned in prior posts, or at least on Twitter, something I've also neglected a bit as of late, September has really tried to kill me. With two major publications working toward close and the annual fundraising event for the non-profit I volunteer for, my various projects morphed into needy children, frothing at the mouth for my attention. At the end of each day, keeping my brain on long enough to contribute an actual post just wasn't in the cards.

Until now! After a long combination of early mornings, late nights, work projects, volunteer projects, board meetings, committee meetings, client meetings, yadda yadda yadda, I decided to head to my mother's place (out in the middle of nowhere) to crash. And I most certainly did. I slept on and off from Saturday mid-day to early evening Sunday, when I finally felt I'd rebooted enough to trot my bum back to Reno.

And here I am. It feels good to be pounding on the keys again. I've even got a few post topics rattling around upstairs - with a prominent theme to them: balance. It's safe to say you can expect a few upcoming posts...

I hope that's ok. Don't want to mess with anyone's RSS feeds... ;)

Who said big words are bad?

2009-09-02T20:42:00.000-07:00

I've got a thing for words. I like them. I like them so much that I've made it a part of my job. In fact, I like them so much that I actively seek to learn new ones, or learn the meanings of ones I don't recognize.

When I was about 12 years old or so I asked my father what the word 'recalcitrant' meant on a drive into town. He turned to me, jaw dropped, and asked "where did you learn that word?" I told him I'd read it somewhere.

To use a rather spent adjective, I had a voracious appetite for books. I inhaled them... and instead of saying "whoa, slow down and chew," my parents opted to pile more into my hands and root me on.

Last week, Josh Hanagarne's post on Copyblogger (@copyblogger) briefly re-hashed one of his own childhood memories concerning word usage, and it brought to mind how I have been in that position frequently (read: sometimes I am still in that position). From a monetary standpoint, he brought some excellent points to the table regarding speaking to your audience and their applicable discourse communities, as well as writing with words that they use. Hanagarne asks "Why write anything in a style that creates distance with your readers?" And it's a valid point - especially if you want to make money by engaging customers with your copy or sell newspapers.

In journalism (at least when I was studying; figures may have changed since), we were taught that the average American reads at a 7th or 8th grade level, and to connect with that audience it's best to write at a 6th grade level. I find this appalling. And when it came to writing assignments, the vocabulary had no choice but to peek out, despite the prolific "why write the word utilize when you can write use?" speeches.

But here's my point (and it was often my rebuttal when arguing about the above concept). I don't use big words to sound snooty or smart or professional, or what-have-you. In fact, were you to comb through this blog, you might find a few that leave you questioning whether 'snarky' really is in Webster's. Yes, I like words. But I don't propagate them into my speech in hopes others will perceive me the Grand Poobah of literary prowess. No - I happen to believe that sometimes the bigger word captures the more accurate meaning of what it is I am trying to convey. And isn't that a worthy endeavor? A clearer picture of what message I'm trying to impart?

Now before I hop up here on my soapbox, let me assure you I'm well aware of how making money with words works. You write to your target audience, you appeal to their interests, you demonstrate how what you have can help them.

But, in essence(soapbox warning!), all that this is doing is catering to the lowest common denominator. And while it makes financial sense, what is it doing to our society? Our collective lexicon? Why, oh why, do we not push ourselves as a nation to learn more by lacing such an integral part of daily lives (reading) with more accuracy? Must we continue to play dumb? I'm pretty sure the last vocabulary class I had was in middle school - and I can guarantee that many a college student reverts to Cliffs Notes. Our up-and-coming professionals aren't getting a very meat and potatoes part of their education. And rather than call this to the forefront, call to attention the fact that Hey! We'd rather dumb our language down than learn more! we continue to make it easy to leave vocabulary out of the question. I ask you, if we continue to make it so easy, what level will our society be reading out 10-15-20 years from now?

I find it pitiful.
(hopping off soapbox now)

If I ever find the guy who said "big words are bad," I'm coming after him with a really big stick.

Super Fun Eye Disease Pt. 2

2009-08-24T19:44:00.000-07:00

Never before have I spent nearly two hours in a doctor's office before. And unless it's childbirth (which I don't anticipate any time soon) or Lasik surgery (which is kind of out of the picture now), I don't really prefer to do it again.

If you're not feeling like a Debbie Downer post, you may want to skip this entry, because it may travel down that track as quickly as Family Guy likes to deviate from the plot line. In fact, you may as well play one of my favorite Mancini tunes in the background as you read it... because I'm the queen of Noise, remember? You might as well learn from me in that regard.

This morning I had my appointment with a second eye doctor, at the request of my regular doc who wanted another professional opinion on my stubborn Giant Papillary Conjunctivitis (hey, at least I know what it's called by now. Are you listening to Professor Fate yet???). He was perturbed by the practically non-existent reaction my eyes had to the Killer Eye Drops of Death and wanted me to have a retinal scan done. Well, I had one done. In fact, I had nine eye tests done this morning...

Nine.

I also had about two pounds of liquid (take your pick: lubricating drops, numbing drops, dilating drops, let's throw some more lubricating drops in there, *hey, here's an itty bitty tissue*, and some more lubricating drops) squeezed into my eyes. Apparently they don't appreciate being unable to blink during said tests, and acted out much like a rebellious teenager. So a few of the tests I had to do upwards of three times... (this is, of course, adding to the fun factor here).

I believe my favorite (read: least favorite) test was the 'dryness test.' They stuck pieces of paper in my eyes. I kid you not. I believe the point was to see how much of the fluid would travel up the little stick of paper. This was done to gauge a) how much fluid my eyes were producing in their natural state and b) how un-sponge-like I am. I had to keep my eyes closed for 5 minutes and let me tell you, in case you were thinking of sticking strips of paper in your eyes, it is painful when they remove them.

It's important to note here that I met a few people who had been to this eye doctor before. They were quick to assure me he was kind, smart, and very funny. Well, there was very little laughter in the windowless exam room today. Something about the file he read outside that door before coming in sucks all frivolity out of things. There's no witty banter, no mindless chit-chat before a few lens swatches. He basically gave it to me straight, which can be appreciated, I suppose. These days I'm getting used to the news staying the same or getting worse.

Let's see... after today I learned that:
- The GPC is at a +3 (no clue whether that's a scale of 1-3 or 1-10, but I'm guessing it's in that lower range). You can read about the condition here. I warn you... the picture is Creepy. I shuddered.
- To combat the Creepy GPC, the doc prescribed a much stronger Killer Eye Drop of Death, which I'm required to be on for the next 2 months (also no contacts for that period of time). Except he assures me that I will not form cataracts or develop Glaucoma unless I'm on it for 2-5 years straight. So that's some small comfort.
- I will never be able to see 20-20. Stellar... My right eye will be able to be corrected well enough to see 20-20, but the best we'll be able to manage for my left is 20-30, perhaps 20-25. And unfortunately...
- The astigmatism is very steep (read: severe), which pretty much wrecks the chances of Lasik surgery for the future.
- My cornea is thinning just a touch. I assure you I jumped for joy when I heard this one. The actual term is Keratoconus, which took some googling before it rolled of my tongue/fingers like that. As the doctor explained to me, this is a thinning of the cornea. If it progresses, I could have an aneurysm type occurrence within my eyeball. The treatment for aggressive cases of this is a corneal transplant. Seriously.

I will mention that this second round of incredibly chipper information didn't reduce me to a bumbling ball of tears like the first, but as the day creeped on, it settled a bit more heavily. This pill is a bit larger to swallow.

Add to that an ocular migraine at the end of the work day ('What the deuce is the fuzzyness, Max!?') and I was about tapped out with the eye problems. So I did what any sane person would do.

A) I progressively felt sorry for myself (ok, maybe that's just a girl thing).
B) I googled the big scary words the doctor said (and now you get to see pictures, lucky you!).
C) I drove home during the migraine *cough, cough* I could see fine... and had a glass of wine.
D) And then I started writing this blog post.

So you know I'm not a complete hypochondriac, I'm well aware this could be far worse. I'm truly thankful I don't have cancer, leukemia, or any other life-threatening disease. But I basically make a living by reading and writing... and I'm not quite prepared to have my eyesight compromised.

P.S. I lied. I had two glasses of wine.

P.P.S. Did you listen to Professor Fate's theme song??

Note to mountain bikers: please tell me when you take a vacation day...

2009-08-20T21:33:00.000-07:00

I love mountain bikers.

Their tires and wheel spokes are loud, they jostle the rocks along my running path, and I often have to scurry up the mountain side to let them go by.

Pshaw. Reality: I love them because they scare the snakes off the path.

Except for today. Maybe it was national "Take the Day Off from Mountain Biking" day, I don't know, but I didn't see a solitary biker on the trail.

I did, however, nearly careen into a snake as I was about to finish my first outdoor mile. While it was in fact a harmless little gopher snake (and by little I mean 2-feet long and spread across the entire width of the trail), but my brain convinced me it was something more along the lines of this.

I nearly doubled over when I came up on it (in a knee-jerk reaction to keep my heart from flying out of my mouth). After my rock-chucking strategy failed miserably (I was never the cool kid that could skip rocks 4-5 times, nor do I have the flawless aim that would have made me an asset to a basketball team), I scuffled the dirt around the trail, which seemed to startle the guy off into the brush. But I couldn't stop fixating on every little twig and branch when I finally moved on.

It was all I could think of. Before the heart-stopping slitherer, I was musing over the day and the many conversations I had regarding social media (ironically via social media) and wondering how I could discuss the various topics we chewed on in a blog post. But the creepy crawly drastically altered my thought process.

Rachel's Thoughts Pre-Startling:

"Oh hey, look at the black bumblebees in the purple mystery bush... sure wish I had a decent camera that I could carry when I go running. What a great picture!"

"Oh hey! A Golden Retriever... what a gorgeous dog... so happy. Don't know if it'd be fair for me to get a dog without a yard, though..."

Rachel's Thoughts Post-Startling:

"Get the crap away from me, Dragonfly! You are far too big to be normal!" *shiver* *audible disgust*

"Oh hey! A Beagle! Where were you when I needed you??? You could have barked at the snake and made him move, then bounded back toward me like nothing had happened, and I would have kept running on my way. That's it. I need a dog."

P.S. This picture is just wrong. Flat-out wrong!

P.P.S. I have this theory that all men harbor an appreciation (whether it be blatant or witheld) for Indiana Jones, and through that appreciation is transferred the subsequent fear of snakes. I wonder if my crush on Indiana Jones makes me afraid of snakes...?

A buffet of distraction

2009-08-18T18:55:00.000-07:00

I am the Queen of Piling on Excessive Noise.

In the morning I turn the TV on, listening to the news while I get ready. Then it's the radio on the morning drive, the iPod or Pandora during the work day (I've been known to leave an earbud in during phone calls), music on the drive home, Simpsons in the background while I make dinner/browse the Internet/do laundry, and a second round of iPod tunes during a run or hike. And to cap off the day...

*Sigh* This was going to come out eventually, but I am completely addicted to South Park. Smitten might be an ideal word. I queue up 3 to 4 episodes on my computer each night when it's time to go to bed and zone out to the sounds of 8-year-olds crazy with profanity. And if I wake up in the middle of the night (which is a nightly occurrence), I simply press play again...

I promise I'm getting to a point.

Every part of my day, save for face-to-face meetings, has a constant, incessant level of chatter or music. Rarely is there dead silence or white noise. Add to that the other elements of my day, both personal and work-related: email, phone calls, texts, IMs, twitter, facebook, blogs... It gives the word 'noise' a whole new meaning. It's not how high the volume is, but more the sheer quantity of ways, methods, and times we are obligated to chat in this techie world.

I've often wondered whether I'd have the courage to cut some of that out of my routine, and then I remember I'm a child of modern technology. Turning off the noise at night or in the morning might be eerily too quiet. Might be considered negligent if I turned it off at work...

Right now I'm cutting things out - unnecessary expenses, unnecessary calories (wine is a very, very necessary expense, both fiscally and mentally). Recently I've been considering the possibility of cutting out some of my techie clutter, too. Do I really need to scour facebook at home when the stack of half-read and just-started books is threatening to crowd me out of my room? Do I really need to read the many articles and posts on What-You-Need-To-Know-About-Twitter (i.e. there is about an average of 5 conversations on 'Need to Knows' regarding Twitter in just about each of my LinkedIn groups each day - not that I shouldn't self-educate on something that is part of my job, but... really? 5 each day?)? Do I really need to check both accounts on the drive to and from work (the answer is a resounding NO)?

This may become a personal experiment. How productive can I be with fewer channels of distraction (that manuscript is supposed to be finished by my next birthday)? Hmmm... some definite no-calorie-food for thought.

P.S. I am also the Queen of eating Jimmy Johns, Clouds, Getting Flowers, Playing Bad Golf, Playing Excellent Air Hockey, and Wearing Heels Because I'm Short. Yup. Those are totally all proper nouns, too.

This post was supposed to be about social media...

2009-08-17T20:21:00.000-07:00

...until my thoughts just weren't making sense.

So here's my proverbial blank slate: *crickets chirping.*

Let's just say that this weekend was an excellent one - including: a dozen roses (swoon), baseball, fireworks, shopping, creepy life-size president figures that talk, an older man at breakfast that was incredulous because he'd "never heard of orange juice or milk costing extra!" (I'm curious if the rock he lives under has decent rent?), a really bad golf game on my part, an excellent dinner at my favorite French restaurant, an education in Scotch ("No blends, no blends!"), a man hitting on me at Walgreens directly in front of the beau, and some barbequing by the river.

And while it was incredibly cathartic and enjoyable for me to rehash my weekend in paragraph/list form, it may not have been that great for you, dear reader, if you are in fact reading this.

Because I know that content is king - whether you're writing an email campaign, a direct mail piece, a book, or a blog. If you don't provoke your audience, they won't read it. If it doesn't add anything to them, there's no point in reading it. But I find it hard to believe I can acrue a large readership simply blathering about my day's goings-ons. And yet bloggers like Dooce and TheBloggess manage to interject their personality, sarcasm, and wonderfully dry wit into their posts (the provocative variable?). For those reasons, I love their posts. I eat their posts up until my brain becomes distended as if I hadn't consumed such literary genius in days.

This comes down to something Mark W. Schaefer said to me: @markwschaefer @rgattuso Very good article, Rachel. You are finding your voice! Keep up the good work!

(Which made me blush...) It brought to attention something I've been asking of myself for a while now. Is this what I want my voice to be? I wouldn't call myself an expert in the topics that are really intriguing right now. Sure, I dabble in writing about social media occasionally, but I am by no means authoritative. And even moreso, do I want to be?

But can I get away with cheeky posts since my name is affixed to the blog? I like the rambling commentary of these ladies' blogs. I like the whimsical nature and sheer entertainment that comes from reading a post (or an entire month's worth). Would it affect my career now, tomorrow? Should it be under the veil of anonymity? Or does that admit some sort of shame?

Needless to say I haven't quite figured out what my voice is yet. It would help if I didn't wait a full week between posts, too... *cough, cough*

Where is the social media easy button?

2009-08-07T18:22:00.000-07:00

I love the concept of simplicity. Love that when you wipe the slate clean of all that clutters and binds, the possibilities are practically endless.

Initially, social media seemed to be simple - the perfect way to stay connected with friends I'd lost touch with. I can have an account that allows me to express my individuality, talk to my friends, and view our collective, endless world of pictures? Sign me up!

Then it morphed into strategic - an endless row of professional networking, some doors open, many more waiting to be flung from their locks. A virtual resume that allows me to collect recommendations and business history in the 2.0 world? Yes, please!

Then it became exhausting - multiple ways to connect, multiple profiles... Um, ok? Since everyone else is doing it...

...until it dipped back into new and exciting - a way to send snippets of your status and instantly share breaking news and insightful thought leadership at the click of a tinyurl. Twitter, huh? I guess I'll check it out... hmm... not bad, not bad at all...

And then - the realization that, yes, this is all public information. Like a flood, all the negative examples overwhelm you (dooce.com got her start when she was fired for blogging about work, the recent twitter lawsuit is making everyone question their 'opinions' online). And at this point you realize, after the many, many, many ways your name is tied back to comments, LinkedIn discussions, twitter posts, or facebook threads, there are a multitude - no, a plethora - of things already you've written you have to re-evaluate in terms of approriateness.

If everything were in one place it would be infinately easier to manage the messaging, but it's a little bit too late for that. The toothpaste is, metaphorically, out of the tube.

The other question is whether or not it should be all in one place. Everyone has their multiple discourse communities, so a little segmentation is nice.

Occasionally I'll perform perfectly mundane tasks, like getting a glass of water or grabbing chapstick out of my bag, and think about how much there is to keep up with. Add to the mix the duality of maintaining a personal presence as well as managing a corporate presence and well... it's a bit like trying to keep your head above water.

It makes you question whether you've really been operating with tact or not. Whether your social media actions should be more strategic - everything heading to an ultimate goal of [x] destination (in terms of corporate social media, the answer is yes, but your personal presence is more fuzzy). And, since you're not there yet, you don't know what the right course of actions is. Only that you must take cautious steps forward.

I really wish there were an easy button. I would take a firm hold, point it squarely at my computer, and - poof! - there it would be: the answer.

(If you find one, can I borrow it??)

The Malbec that moves mountains

2009-08-06T18:06:00.000-07:00

I opened one of two Argentinian Malbec bottles I'd been saving for next Christmas this evening. Reno's throwback to a November storm has been altering the mood of the town all day.

It's been working well - sloughing the long, cold day off my shoulders more gently than any loofah could. The bottles were part of my Christmas gift from the beau, so I have to give him all credit (but we did pick it out together - El Felino, Vina Cobos).

And lest you think me silly for opening a bottle at 6 p.m. (this pales in comparison to my wine tasting Thursdays of yesteryear, oh-by-the-way), I don't have the option to take a walk this evening. So I'm taking the opportunity to enjoy a much-needed glass of wine and make some headway in one of eleventeen books I am currently in the middle of. To illustrate that I really would be exercising were the option there, I've inserted a few pics from prior walks to lendcredence to a few of posts relating to the terrain behind my place and my love for clouds.

This is one of the first things I see on my hikes... the more clouds floating around, the more opportunity for the sun dash through, blazing in all its glorly. Peering at the display through the pine branches is the perfect way to begin those initial uphill (read: a**-kicking uphill) steps.

Moving onward, you get the promise of a view to come - if you brave the climb...

until finally:

For some reason, this view has the same ability to slough off the day's crazy, incessant, back-and-forth insanity. But I just don't really have that option this evening. So I'll accomplish the same thing with the Malbec.

Thankfully there are two bottles, so we will still be able to celebrate with it next Christmas - as originally planned.

The 5-year-old from the future is downstairs

2009-08-05T20:47:00.000-07:00

This weekend I had the opportunity to peek into a snapshot of my future - with kids.

The age-old question of "What is it like to wake up Saturday morning to hear the sounds of cartoons playing downstairs" was finally answered (ok... technically it was Monday morning, but it still applies).

Let me back up just a touch...

After a weekend of very grown-up activities such as paying for the little sister and her friend's dinner, buying a few bottles of wine, and taking my car in to get its oil changed, the beau and I braved a brief rainstorm to hit the grocery store. I think it's worth mentioning here that the rain was so prolific and hard that we couldn't even see the lines on the road... I was a little worried (what having worn white out and all), but by the time we got to the store it had quit pelting the scurrying cars.

I like to think I did a pretty passable job of remembering what to buy, despite having left my list back at home. Milk - check. Frozen veggie lasagna - check. Whole wheat English muffins - check. Sadly overpriced yet must-have shampoo and conditioner - check.

By the time we navigated to the movie section (because, really... when they're $5 a pop, it's hard to resist the urge to grow your collection of classics), I'd grabbed all of the obligatory paper/dairy/veggies I could recall.

And all of a sudden...

"No way!"

I turned around to see the beau's eyes light up like Christmas and his fingers snatching a DVD pack - gimme gimme gimme.

"It's the first season of G.I. Joe!"

"Like the cartoon?"

...and with all the reverence and respect a grown man can give to the first career he remembers aspiring to, he says "yeaaah..."

And so, with veggie lasagna and a Gnarly Head Zin ('twas not the most sophisticated wine selection at this store), we watched G.I. Joe Sunday evening until I remembered I was, indeed, an adult and, didn't I have to go to work in the morning? And, please don't make me watch disc two...

When Monday rolled around, I hopped out of the shower to hear the rally cries of "GO JOE!!!" and "COoooooBRA!" and I knew... this is what parents experience every Saturday morning. Sure enough, when I walked downstairs to start the coffee, he had quite the sheepish grin on his face.

"What are you going to do today?" I asked amid the Snake Eyes! No! I can't believe you held onto the radioactive canister! in the background.

"Well, I have some calls to make, some contracts to draw up, you know..."
If we reverse the polarity, we'll be able to read the secret Cobra transmission!

"And what are you reaaally going to do today?" Don't be a fool Destro, do not underestimate those Joes...

"Um... I'm going to watch this some more... and maybe take a nap."

Then I started the work week. Where many more grown-up activities took place. And though the beau has since headed home, I have been wandering around my house, halfway expecting a 5-year-old to round the corner, clinging to my legs screaming "Mommy, mommy, mommy!"

Until then, I am perfectly happy nursing this blog - and the appropriate bottles of wine (however many that happens to be).

Spoiler Alert: Fax machines are outdated...

2009-07-28T20:11:00.000-07:00

It feels somewhat sacrilegious to write what I'm about to write, given it could be construed as negative and outside there is the most gorgeous thunderstorm lumbering over the baby mountain that resides behind my complex. Massive, towering thunderheads can be seen at the edges of a blanket of darkness, while an opening between the northernmost range lets the sun shine in to look as though it's raining fire upward back into the clouds.

Lighting passes fleetingly, followed by its crack - to ensure you're paying attention. And the smell... Oh, the smell. Of earth, of rain, of wet sagebrush - all smells that Northern Nevadans love and cherish in the desert. They're wafting in my open window... right up until Ruby jumps *plop* into the middle of my view. Drat.

Despite the impressive display outside, I was privy to some interesting evidence this evening... evidence that reminded me precisely how much I do not want to be caught traveling down that road only to find that I've been negligent in my social media and technology education.

This evening, at a meeting to coordinate an upcoming event I help... um... coordinate... (stellar word choice, Rachel), our committee discussed the best option for reaching out to a specific audience with a particular announcement. The best option just so happened to be a direct mail letter campaign, and since there's only about 150 individuals on this list, it was determined it could be done in-house.

"That'll take forever to hand address 150 letters, though!"

"Well, no... it can be done with mail merge."

To which, the individual tasked with completing this specific task replied: "Mail what?"

"Mail merge..." was the unanimous reply.

"I'm sorry... mail... merge?"

Now I won't divulge names, but I will mention that this individual has an age advantage on me by several years. Which is not a judgment by any means (I am choosing to omit my gargantuan effort to keep my jaw from hitting the conference room table). It's just a perfect example of noticeable gaps in understanding when it comes to social media and technology.

I will, instead, interject my belief that if you want to be at the top of the game, then yes, you need to learn how to complete a mail merge operation. Of many things.

But I digress...

Yes, it's tiring (as I wrote yesterday) to keep up with the never-ending deluge of iWhatever updates, new methods for connecting and chatting online, and that new-fangled Twitter thing, but it's part of being a member of the business community. It's a continuing education, and we must seek to understand more and more. Unless I'm missing some magic potion or pill, experience is the only true way to gain the insight that adds to our credibility as professionals.

It's not enough to stand by and take a passenger seat, hoping someone will be able to figure it all out and enlighten you further on down the road. Trust me. The farther you walk on that road without an attempt to understand, the harder it will be, and one day it will hit you like a [insert catchy metaphor here]. If you want to play in the game, you've got to learn the rules first - and that comes from practice, practice, practice... and a few mistakes.

*Note: If you still think fax machines are the bees knees, um... I really have nothing I could say to that...

Climbing Mt. Everest: Is it worth it?

2009-07-27T15:06:00.000-07:00

Sick days are a bit deceiving.

At first, you think you'll be able to sleep for the morning, shaking off whatever it is that has taken hold of your stomach and refused to let go, then get up and do a few things; a few things that might make you feel like you've made progress in the war against uncleanliness... (like scrubbing the kitchen counters yet again, cleaning the shower, or finally sorting through that ridiculously huge bag of pictures you've had since before digital cameras were around).

But that rarely happens. More often than not, you spend the day dozing in and out, feeling guilty that you're not working - fighting the urge to check your email - and cursing the sun for sailing West too fast.

And so today has gone... When I'm at work, I often feel it would be just so pleasant to be at home, reveling in the great vast openness of a day to myself - getting anything and everything done that I need to and don't seem to have the energy to finish when I get back from work. But when one of those days comes around, it can often make me feel horribly stale; stagnant. Unproductive. Like I'm missing out on some incredible work day where plenty could have been completed, launching me into that great unkown of 'working ahead.' But at home, I'm thinking of how nice it would be to clean more, despite the fact that my counters will be dirty in another few days...

Aside from waking up feeling under the weather, this weekend was very enjoyable. Friday night, the beau and I went to his friend's house for dinner. As the sun slipped past view, his friend broached the topic of social media... bringing up a compelling thought: that keeping up with social media is exhausting, but you have to if you don't want to be left behind.

He spearheaded a Facebook group for a few colleagues in his profession, managing it through its infancy. Those in his profession noticed his entrepreneurial actions and requested he present his work at a conference, asking him to spearhead another one. When the other group members latched onto the concept, he didn't have to have his hands in the project quite so much, and left it in theirs. Which is ideal, but now he feels behind... and the requests for presentations are going to other individuals.

It seems that this technology and its myriad of purposes will consistently out-pace us... and the race is a bit exhausting. So I guess the question is: is the race worth it?

When the business model is still firming and the question of ROI hangs, (and hangs... and hangs... and we all wait for someone else to hopefully figure it out), is it worth constantly climbing to the top of a never-ending Mt. Everest?

To that, I say: yes. There's a reason I keep scrubbing my counters, keep cleaning my shower. To not do so might be considered negligent... or at least downright dirty. Not to say that failing to keep up with social media will make me dirty, but I certainly don't want to travel down a road and find I've been negligent.

But I guess a few sick days are ok...

How many strollers can fit in the Salt Lake City Zoo?

2009-07-14T20:53:00.000-07:00

Sadly, Park City harbored no bedazzlers. I know that I was apprehensive about the whole thing, but it was surprisingly unwarrented. However, Salt Lake City (or, more accurately, the zoo we went to) had more 19-20 year-olds pushing strollers than I ever thought was possible. And yes, I know why that is, but that happens to be an entirely new, entirely too long-winded post.

I was expecting an actual livestock sale, but apparently there is a difference between a livestock sale and a livestock auction. The beau* tells me that more than 280,000 head of cattle were sold at the sale - and it was all done via satellite (which is why I was really shocked when I heard a rancher - there to either sell or buy - completely denounce technology and it's place in the ranching lifestyle - hello??).

My perception changed quite a bit - I had expected to be shuffling my shod feet (I typically only wear close-toed shoes when it snows or I'm riding) among the dirt of pipe corrals and the sweat and snot of cattle, but I noticeably paused when the beau told me it'd be in a hotel conference room.

*Pause for dramatic effect* Question mark?

Like any other conference, the facility's projector screens were down and airing the footage of the currently auctioned lots. Practically every table had mini HD TVs so buyers could have their own personal view of the cattle they were contemplating buying by the pound. In the front of the room was a line of well-dressed gentlemen in cowboy hats (well, duh, what were you expecting? Bowler hats?) set up with one or two phones... and they were waited on hand and foot - since they had potential buyers on one or more lines. A lot of money passed hands that weekend...

Saturday we headed to the Salt Lake City Zoo, where I saw more strollers than I even knew capitalistic American companies could produce. While I did feel a little awkward since I didn't have a baby clinging to my hip, it was still enjoyable. Except - did you know that the rhino exhibit happens to be one of the farthest pens from the main entry? Yes. That just happened to be one of the beua's favorites... and I quote: "Let's go see the rhino's again!" *sigh*

We were entranced by the cougars (especially since my place just so happens to be very close to their natural habitat), awed by the American eagles (which brought to mind Maya Angelou's "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" in an entirely too uncomfortable bit of irony...), and got a kick out of the penguins - our favorite being Michael, the ostricized penguin.

Throughout the weekend I racked my brains trying to come up with an analogy for my travels and social media and/or marketing. I had plenty of great blog fodder: being subjected to a metal band's rendition of the hip-hop song "Lollipop" three times in a row (how many times until a tweet loses its efficacy?), walking into an Elko restaurant only to be stared at (social media is intended to embrace, not exclude), and taking the twisty road up to Angel Lake near Wells, NV where a jewel waited (sometimes the most obscure places harbor the best treasures)... but when we finally made it to Reno, the whole "It's 9 p.m. and we just spent a day and a half trying to finish a 10 hour drive and we're tired" thing kicked in.

So here I am - Tuesday evening, with no stellar social media/marketing/or even economic musings to tie into this post. But I did enjoy two glasses of wine and am about ready to call it quits for the evening.

*Just trying to keep his name anonymous in case he decides down the road it needs to be.

Lagging behind… Eye-opening example of print’s short shelf life

2009-07-09T23:30:00.000-07:00

Not to dredge up old news or anything, but before I was given the OK to turn on any of my portable electronic devices (save for my phone), I was rifling through July’s issue of “Sky.” (I don’t fly Delta very often so I’m not positive whether this is an airline specific publication or something as pervasive as SkyMall – and I can’t even do my due diligence on it because, *harrumph* Delta does not have WiFi like Southwest does.)

I would just like to point out that the latest Microsoft operating system just corrected my spelling of the word ‘harrumph.’ ??

Anyhow – while rifling through the first few pages of this flashy little pub, I came across their calendar, where one of the first images was that of Michael Jackson on stage. I was fully expecting the blurb to be talking about his recent, and shocking, death. Instead, it was a promotion for one of the first dates of his then-pending tour.

Oops.

Right now, you know that the editor (wait, this one I can look up…Jayne Haugen Olsen) is probably thinking to herself that it is the most unfortunate little twist of prescription drug fate ever. And she’s kind of right. Not to say that I don’t respect print publications… heck, I’ve been published in that arena before… and I’d love to break into it more frequently (which requires more devoted persistence than the occasional blog here and there), but it was just such a perfect illustration of how print is constantly being surpassed by non-traditional forms of media.
Not to say I will ever deviate from my healthy respect and admiration for serious journalists, but I am glad to see that they are recognizing the need to adapt. Tradition is important, yes, and even I would be sad to see newspapers go the way of the dinosaur and the loincloth (unless you’re in Vegas), but as countless religions have proven, it will inadvertently cultivate forms of rebellion.

*No, thank you, I will not be purchasing a $7 plastic thimble of wine…*

Adaptability is crucial. This morning our department spent an hour in a social media meeting, its focus around Twitter as a strategy – how to incorporate it to drive company initiatives yet use it as it is intended to be used. As our direct mail activity has dropped off considerably (for which I feel semi-guilty toward our print manager…), we’re looking at other ways to engage our customers and break into new markets. It’s about talking to your prospects in the way your prospects want to be talked to…

But the conversation kept circling back to how the content needed to be timely, relevant, sincere. I think it’s a good point when considering hard publications. While they may have lost their integrity in terms of newsworthiness, they still can engage their customers in ways that 140 characters may not be able to – in a way that a tongue and cheek blog *cough, cough* might not be able to.
So while the vehicle may change, the content will always be king. As so many marketing agencies have indicated before…

*If you think I’m going back through this thing to insert links when I de-plane, you’re sorely mistaken. No links, tough luck. Park City bedazzlers, here I come!!!

Put the Bedazzler down!

2009-07-08T23:06:00.000-07:00

So I fly to Park City, Utah tomorrow evening.

Should be interesting... considering I have never been to Utah - in all my extensive state-wide travels. I know. It's shocking. I truly don't have enough extremeties to count all of the states I have been to, and yet I have never been to Utah. Odd? Or my subconscience?

Yes, I'm a bit apprehensive - as I'll be headed to a livestock sale (I love horses... as some of my closest friends can attest to. In fact, Leslie and I used to compete in 3-day eventing), but this will be a cattle sale. And this nose-dive into the cattle industry, while not entirely new, will not exactly be as easy as, say, the wine industry.

Not sure how much I will see of the beau Friday (so don't be surprised to see excessive tweets, facebook posts, or blog posts). I have a feeling I'll be doing a lot of people watching. Sometimes I really feel like you get two kinds of women in this industry: the genuine, never-will-you-find-a-truer-more-earnest-honest-woman, and the gals that look like someone lent them a Bedazzler and they went overboard with it. If you've ever been to a rodeo, you'll likely have noticed the insane amount of bling some women sport. Seriously? Not sure how I feel about it. To each his own I guess.

Needless to say, I'm guessing my heels may not be the most approriate footware for the venue (I'm short). So packing has been... interesting.

Of course, when you're trying to procrastinate one thing, other things seem to miraculously complete themselves. This evening I finished transferring audio files from my thumb drive to my computer to properly sinc to my iTunes, paid some bills *yech*, completed my rebate information, cleaned some of my closet, did laundry, organized my desk, and... um, does using white strips on my teeth count as a productive activity? Sure...

On a positive note - Killer eye drops of death are down to twice a day! Victory! Or, slightly less chance of cataracts and glaucoma...

Acclimating to specs...

2009-07-06T19:32:00.000-07:00

Last Friday officially marked a full week of "Rachel in Glasses: The New Beginning" or, more accurately "Glasses Owning Rachel's Face and Making the Gym a Sweaty Endeavor."

It's not as if they're uncomfortable or as if they make me look like the Swamp Creature, but because of the incredible difference in prescriptions (my right eye is horrible and my left eye is uber horrible), wearing glasses has been very difficult to acclimate to. Both eyes are having to work extraordinarily hard just to focus on one object. It's a little like seeing whether you can intentionally make your eyes go cross-eyed, then wall-eyed, then back again.

I've also learned this past week that there is this really nifty hiking trail right behind my place that leads for about a mile to the top of a local park - from where I can see the entire Reno skyline. Which, I promise is gorgeous. I, of course, have been living in said house for - oh... more than a year and a half? A testiment to my stellar exploratory skills, I guess.

While I'm really starting to enjoy this newfound freedom from broken machines and skin-tight-nylon-clad 18-year-olds (shouldn't the people at the gym look like they need to be there?), the glasses have certainly been making the terrain difficult to navigate. In one very small focused area, I see a smaller-sized version of everything, albiet clearly. In the wide expanse around this chunk of perfect vision, there is fuzzyness - camoflauged in the surrounding peripheral colors. And since the glasses are literally hanging from my ears, they're bouncing as I head up and down the trail. Slightly disconcerting. Like trying to play pin the tail on the right vision - while being blind in a bounce house.

When the assistant first tried to fit the glasses on my face, I vaulted out of them.

"Whoah, I see 3 of you! Are you sure these are the right prescription??"

Driving has been something of an adventure... to say the least. The worst was changing lanes or backing out of the driveway (um, watch out Reno?), since every time I moved my point of focus my eyes had to work ten times harder.

But it's getting better - which is of some relief. It no longer takes about an hour for my eyes to settle into the prescription. Now it takes about 2 minutes. I am still taking the eye drops of terrifying death (remember glaucoma and cataracts?), but my doctor is having me come in for regular check-ups to make sure killer eye diseases stay at bay. All of which said post-prescription-appointments are not necessarily covered by my insurance. But that's beside the point...

In an effort to get more comfortable with this new change, I'm starting a list of women who happen to look phenomenal in glasses. Whether it be because frames just suit them or they just happen to rock the frames, I'm hoping to feel as confident as these sassy ladies look and act in my specs.

1) Tina Fey as Liz Lemmon. Another of my heroes - though she is slightly more fictitious than Heather Armstrong... Liz has dedication, wit, patience, perseverance, and - did I mention wit? She handles the various characters in her set with the perfect combination of poise, panache, and the occasional episode of "why-me??" Let's face it...we've all had those days. (Did I mention that she writes the show and produces it? Yeah. The gal's got smarts...)

2) Sandra Bullock in "The Proposal." I haven't seen it, but hey - Sandra Bullock is gorgeous regardless... so I'm going to take it and roll with it.

3) Chelsea Handler. I feel like she's worn specs a time or two. And even if I'm imagining this for some reason, I still think she deserves a mention - as someone unafraid to speak her mind. With two cheeky books under her belt, she deserves to flaunt whatever face fashions she so chooses. And who can fault her for gaining notoriety just for being herself?? Admirable.

4) Kate Beckinsale. She looked great - and then she went and had Lasik... lucky...

Are there any others I'm missing?

What you missed the day MJ died...

2009-06-26T17:58:00.000-07:00

Yikes. Yesterday was a bad day for hollywood in general. We lost three distinctive voices in a matter of 48 hours, culminating in one unbelievable June afternoon. The first voice was one of jubilance, of humor, and of unmistakable character. The second voice helped pave the way to women's empowerment and a iconic hairdo. The third voice was the guiding light for more music genres and artists than we are likely to know (with a few highly-publicized allegations along the way).

But I think you'd be hard pressed to find someone who learned of it from a traditional media source. Long gone are the days where we all open the morning papers to see Michael Jackson's image moonwalking to the corners; headlines of "A King Suddenly Departs" and "Michael Jackson: Beat It." Even the evening's news is a tired recapitulation of the day's events, 5 hours too late.

Thanks to social media like Twitter, Facebook (which blew up!), and emerging online information from streaming video on CNN, Google (which broke down allegedly for 40 minutes) and so on, the only ratings spike that newspapers and broadcast journalists can hope for will come from a tribute - which is often a pack effort. God forbid a network doesn't devote attention to the moment's leading story.

Notices of MJ's passing raced throughout the media faster than a female reality TV contestant takes her shirt off (read: fast, and shockingly inappropriate).

And because the story become so utterly and completely pervasive, like an amorphous, self-generating blob that keeps growing, and growing, and growing... it often elbows out other equally shocking headlines. In fact, sometimes I really feel sorry for other noteworthy stories. Especially these two:

- A Gay Demon. Oh yes. A Connecticut non-denominational (referred to by their own priestess as 'non-demoninal'... pffft...) church tries to exercise a 'gay spirit' out of a young man. Ignorance. Shocker. You can either watch Colbert's highly entertaining rendition of the story, or you can watch CNN's coverage. Your call, but hopefully you get how this is a ridiculous story, no matter how credible the journalistic entity.
- A Woman on the Fence. I haven't made my mind up about Jenny Sanford. As recently as this weekend I was discussing John Ensign's recent admission of his fall from grace, and how I found the women in these marriages more appalling than the men. And then Mark Sanford's story comes to light... Up until now, we have not necessarily seen very many cases of political wives leaving their husbands after some pretty adulterous, scum-baggy confessions. And that makes me mad. Because their tolerance sends a very clear message to men that, so long as you are successful, you can get away with just about anything. The higher in society you climb, the fewer consequences you have to face. Worse, to women it says that a marriage - no matter how unhealthy or how little respect your partner holds for you - is to be held above your own sanity. Sacrifice yourself in the 'greater good' of a concept called marriage. But the more this trend continues, the more it amalgamates to something entirely off the mark. Jenny has asked Mark not to contact her - but she hopes they can reconcile. While I am not sure that his actions warrent any sort of reconsideration on her part, I do appreciate that she's not standing by the podium looking like a whipped dog as he makes his public apology. If she is concerned with her children's character, then she should show them, not tell them, what is unacceptable in a marriage by not standing for it - it will be the most powerful lesson she could possibly impart. Now, I know that it's probably hard to buck a trend, but I hope she finds greater integrity within so that she can...

Here's to both parties' sanity down the road... (and my respects to Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, and Ed McMahon).

Cin Cin!

Diagnosis: super fun eye disease.

2009-06-24T18:25:00.000-07:00

It would seem I'm diseased.

No, seriously - if you follow my twitter (@rgattuso) at all, you may remember that early in June I experienced what's called an ocular migraine. Not exactly life-threatening or anything, but the doctor did tell me I have a severe case of eye allergies.

Today was my actual appointment with the new optometrist (our company recently added a vision package to our healthcare) - so I could get some better fitting lenses and adust my prescription to reflect the drastic changes. For about a year I suppose, my left eye has not seen any benefit from the contact. Which just depicts how my eyes have degenerated.

Well the long and short of it is that after further review (read: 2 hours of tests), my doctor tells me he's concerned that the allergy is actually a more severe form, a disease called ... yeah. I can't even pronounce it/find it on google. Also, I have severe astigmatism in my left eye. Not just astigmatism, but astigmatism that has a)progressively advanced in the past few months and b) may be reshaping my cornea. And because I'm not entirely in the mood to recite the whole story (disease & eyes are not exactly words that are comforting to hear in the same sentence):

- instead of anti-histamine eye drops, anti-inflammatory eye drops, to be used every 2 hours. These drops have side effects of potential cataracts and glaucoma (of which there is family history - and can lead to blindness).
- weekly check ups (thank goodness my boss understands!) to make sure the eye drops aren't deteriorating my eyes instead of helping them.
- Strict no-contact regimen once my new, uncovered-by-insurance glasses arrive for a minimum of two months.
- After that time period, I have to have my prescription taken again, to make sure that the astigmatism hasn't advanced and determine whether it is so severe that contacts are the only option or if glasses are acceptable (the best case in this scenario).

To put the icing on the cake, my doctor tells me that this is the worst case he's ever seen in his years of practice. The man has to be in his mid 60's.

So the moral here is - if you think your contacts don't fit, and your doctor says "no, your eyes are the healthiest I've ever seen," get a second opinion!!!!

Monday p.m. and Tuesday a.m.: during which insanity ensues...

2009-06-23T19:15:00.000-07:00

Bah.

It's always hard to get back in the swing of the work week after a weekend of gorgeous clouds, benign bikers (they really do have a bad rap), the beau, and the wonders of a plush, plush mattress, comforter set and hotel housekeeping.

But Monday persisted - knocking down my door and practically dragging me down the streets of downtown Reno scrambling for coffee and, well, more coffee. And so the day passed: full of conversations about email campaigns, lead nurturing, potential new product offerings that would be timely for customers, and - did I mention email campaigns? Luckily, my big bad project is off the plate for this quarter, distributing last Thursday (I say big bad, but it's actually the most enjoyable piece to write and edit). And, joy of joys, my co-worker has returned. Cue parting clouds and choir... her return lifts stress. It may even be as enjoyable as the past weekend - if only the beau and housekeeping were involved.(On second house, that sentence sounds awkward, but on further review, I'm keeping it purely to entertain myself)

Anyhow. Monday at work passed much the same as any Monday at work passed. It was my return home that signaled the start of a very long week...

1. Strange call from my roommate. "Do you know anyone in a green mini-van with a 'Go, pony, go!' sign?" Pregnant pause #1. "Um, nooo?" Pregnant pause #2. "Oh, well, they're parked in our driveway..." Pregnant pause #3. "What the - *Rachel remembers she's still at work and uttering a profanity so loud may not be the best course of action* - someone we don't know is parked in the driveway?" ... "Oh, it's the workers next door."
2. Yeah. The workers next door. Love them. *cough, cough.* If you remember, I blogged a while back about how the unit directly north of mine had been gutted by squatters. Well, they have begun fitting the townhome with new cabinetry, new carpet, etc. If you can hammer it, jackhammer it, pound it with a crowbar, staplegun it, or drill at it with an annoyingly loud power drill, it's being done next door. And, because they're likely so pleased to have the job during this economy, they are chipper, cheerful, and LONG-WINDED workers. They didn't quit hammering until the sun went down. And it's now close to summer in Reno. Sundown is typically 8:45 p.m.
3. But to my infinite joy, somewhere between my dinner and my social networking (another mindless habit the Mini has enabled) my new neighbor decided to showcase his special talent. Drumming. On his very loud drumset. Yeah. One could likely deduce the lack of wall thickness by now. The past tenants had an annoying habit of playing techno music every Thursday p.m. - which very nearly brought me to a crazed state where I constantly had to remind myself: Rachel, don't slash their tires... don't slash their tires. I thought anything would be better than that. Note to self - be careful what you wish for!
4. This morning, leaving the house for work, I opened the garage door to find a very unrecognizable vehicle in my driveway. What the duece!? Turns out the contractors had parked in our driveway - AGAIN. Really??? Reaaally?? I had to ferret out someone from next door to move the car. And then I went to work. Where work ensued. Like it does on Tuesdays (read: chalk full of meetings).

The happy part of these days (apart from this evening's pounding next door), is that I have found the motivation to blog and write again. Don't let these kitties fool you - they are devils!

I've also managed to master @garyvee's snazzy snatching of the wine foil. I myself had been a chronic foil cutter, but after watching an older vid from the wine/social media guru (Gary Vaynerchuk), I opened my Merlot painlessly. And, if I do say so myself, that move might make me a big hit with the boys... (or at least the one).

Until next time...

Currently reading: Heather B. Armstrong's (She is my hero!) fabulous blog.
"About a month ago they ran a story about a study that had been done on coffee and its benefits to the immune system or the heart, I don't remember which because that spot in my brain is occupied by what Scott said during the report to the doctor reviewing the study. Mormons aren't supposed to drink coffee (or tea or alcohol, but 12 Diet Cokes in one hour are perfectly acceptable if not encouraged), and Scott interrupted the doctor to say, "But this doesn't mean people should run out and start drinking coffee, right? RIGHT?" The doctor tried to continue saying that he was just reporting the facts, not encouraging anyone to start drinking coffee, but Scottie wouldn't let up. "It's about the quality of the coffee, isn't, doctor? Not the quantity, right? People should NOT be drinking a lot of coffee." He had this look on his face like he couldn't believe this was news, could they please get back to just how corrupt the city's Democratic mayor is."

Confession: I love clouds...

2009-06-21T21:13:00.000-07:00

I think in another life, I might have been a painter, storm chaser, or a meteorologist - all so I could excusably keep a diligent eye on clouds. I also love the rain...I've lived in the desert for more than ten years now, so I feel justified in saying that, especially when someone from Seattle says I should try living in 300 days of rain. After the almost 3 straight weeks of straight thunderstorms and rain clouds, I've been in heaven.

But nothing was quite so amazing as the drive to Elko this weekend. Now, granted, I was only able to take these pics on my phone, so the quality isn't that great. But these clouds are still incredible - I couldn't stop staring/smiling!

The drive from Reno to Elko, Nevada is certainly not the most visually stimulating. Nor will you see fabulous architecture or impressive geological feats. In fact, most of the sights along the way look eerily like the locations for many a cheap slasher flick - which is certainly comforting. Needless to say, the constantly changing canvas of clouds was gorgeous.

The shuffle feature lended an interesting mixed soundtrack of Tom Petty, Luciano Pavarotti, and Ray LaMontaigne (all favorites of mine).

And then: the most stunning feature - a full arc rainbow.

And I'm about tapped out from the drive back - so I'll be sure to write a more robust post either tomorrow or Tues.

Currently reading: "The Professor and the Madman: A tale of murder, insanity, and the making of the Oxford English Dictionary" by Simon Winchester. (Told you I love words...)
"It is those with 'ears polite' one supposes, who see in the dictionary something quite different: They worship it as a last bastion of cultured Englishness, a final echo of value from the greatest of all modern empires."

On the On-Ramp to the Fast Track

2009-06-17T21:01:00.000-07:00

Alright.

It's been since April since I've blgged. April! We're in June now... oops. A few things have happened since then (I've had a birthday, my little sister graduated from high school, Conan O'Brian took over for Jay Leno, a crazed mother pretended she and her daughter were stuffed into a trunk, - while they actually made their way to Disneyland - and, oh yes! I purchased the HP Mini notebook). Woot!

Hopefully, this means I will be uninhibited when it comes to blogging. No more weekends will I spend lamenting the fact that I can't write on my laptop at my favorite coffee shop (because I didn't have one). No more evenings will I lament the fact that (yes, I know this sounds ridiculously lazy) I can't write in the comfort of my bed or couch. No more excuses! The plan to write continuously is on it's way to the fast track. More accurately, I seem to be on the on-ramp to the fast track of writing...

And, of course, when Monday rolled around, and I still didn't have My Mini (I actually named my computer that when booting it up for the first time), I was practically bubbling over with blog topics. And, of course, NOW I'm going to have to scrape at the recesses of my memory to figure out precisely what those fabulous topics were.

Regardless, I've got a built in topic right in front of me, in the form of an actual, legitimate competition. Ready for it? "So You Think You Can Dance." My guilty TV pleasure. It so perfectly epitomizes what the global economy needs to accomplish it's hard not to draw parallels. The basic premise is that 20 contestants pair up and vie for the coveted top spot as America's favorite dancer. It's like "Dancing With the Stars," except with dancing...

So here's the biggest takeaway I've gathered from the show: If you want to survive, you MUST ADAPT!

The dancers need to adapt to random partners, styles of dancing that they've never experienced before, and the heightened stress combination of lights, cameras, screaming underaged teenagers with crazy hormones, and the ever-present pressure to perform.

Is today's economy able to adapt? A combination of innovative and traditional minds sit behind the steering wheel, but are they concious of being mobile under pressure? It's incredibly complex, interwoven and global - which hardly affords for quick changes in order to alter direction or head off negative consequences. But we have seen the penchant for adaptability: the focus from costly oil to alternative fuels, the intense focus on green technology and sustainable technologies.

Let's just say, were the global economy on the show, it would likely be a contender. But I'm a bit scared it might not be in the top two...

Hopefully, it's just on the on ramp to the fast track - like me.

We shall see!

A skeptical, aggressive pursuit

2009-04-12T09:18:00.000-07:00

'Tis Easter morning... a day heralded by baskets laden with chocolate, jelly beans, and cringe-inducing fake grass; a day during which the mystery of an egg laying rabbit's absurd existence is glossed over; a day where (in my family, at least) eggs Benedict and mimosas are the meal of the morning and drink of the day. Yeah. I know. Makes us sound like drunkards... but we're not. It's just a healthy glorification of our love for orange juice.

But before I indulge in our ritual, it seemed a very fitting morning to broach a broader topic - one that I feel very important today: the pursuit of truth.

Now, if I didn't happen to be somewhat cordoned off from the rest of the world (Smith Valley's population is a trifle over 2,000), I very well might have been enjoying watching youngsters elbow each other to discover eggs under foliage, on top of benches, behind rocks, and in grandfathers' pockets. And I would have cooed at the toddlers in suits and special dresses, with spiffed-up oxfords and mary janes.

But I'm nowhere near a population where little children clamor for the prestige of egg quantity - I'm here at my mother's house, soaking up the opportunity to read, blog, run outside (brutal run yesterday!), enjoy wine, sleep in, and ultimately relax with my mother and little sister. And my distances allows me to question the pomp and circumstance of the holiday.

Religion has always had a dominant presence in my life... a big fat punctuation that has somehow evolved from an inescapable exclamation point to a softer question mark. When things happen to disrupt the course of a given fact or understanding, the belief of that fact or understanding tends to move forward very slowly, on shaky legs. No need to really go into what shook my beliefs, but the main point here is that what I learned from the journey onward is this: you need to think for yourself. A healthy appetite to learn more is necessary to grow. To be progressive, we must be in a skeptical, aggressive pursuit of what the actual reality is.

While I studied Journalism in school, there were no classes on being an 'investigative journalist.' There were also no robust courses on religion, save for the precursory intro classes every student must take - in which they expose a bit of this and that, but not enough to provoke further discovery. So I've been reading, often rotating classics with more contemporary pieces. This morning, I just finished W. Somerset Maugham's "The Razor's Edge." I will admit, it took me some time to push through it. It's a bit long-winded, and Maugham feels it necessary to depict several social gatherings that are, in my opinion, not really important to the actual plot line. But his writing is nevertheless impeccable, and this novel portrays a topic that some find pretentious, and some find enlightening. The main character is Larry, a young American rattled by a near-death experience in the first world war, who dismisses the frivolities of society to pursue knowledge, wisdom, and his one burning question: why does evil exist?

Naturally, the book touches on questions of God. But what makes me truly respect the character is his quest to learn more, devour what knowledge he can find and actively seek more. Larry is a bit like the most prosperous egg-hunting child. In the beginning, all the children in the hunt seem geared up to find those tokens of pale blues, greens and pinks. But as the hunt goes on, some seem weary, some seem a little confused, but one or two stand out as laser-focused - hungry to fill their basket with more, more, more eggs! 'Tis Larry. And I find it incredibly endearing. To continue to seek more of the truth, to continue to ask 'why?' is admirable.

Now, I don't want to perpetuate that I'm actively seeking to discredit religions, or gods. Whatever truth you are seeking, do so with a healthy appetite to find out for yourself - to not assume that what you're automatically told is fact, but to question why it is so, and set out to prove it yourself.

As Larry puts it...

"I kept on asking myself what life was for. After all it was only by luck that I was alive; I wanted to make something of my life, but I didn't know what. I'd never thought much about God. I began to think about Him now. I couldn't understand why there was evil in the world. I knew I was very ignorant; I didn't know anyone I could turn to and I wanted to learn, so I began to read at haphazard."

But on this Easter morning, when many religions exalt the miracles their teachings depict - may we all continue to ask questions. May we enjoy the pomp and circumstances as a time to be with one another, and remember to pursue our own truths. Seek your truth, pursue it aggressively - and grow in the knowledge.

Happy holiday and all the best!

Currently Reading: Maybe some magazines today...

Just Finished: (duh...)
"I couldn't believe, I wanted to believe, but I couldn't believe in a God who wasn't better than the ordinary decent man. The monks told me that God had created the world for His glorification. That didn't seem to me a very worthy object. Did Beethoven create his symphonies for his glorification? I don't believe it. I believe he created them because the music in his soul demanded expression and then all he tried to do was to make them as perfect as he knew how."

Branding, Cupcake Vineyards, and Debussy

2009-04-10T15:30:00.000-07:00

I'm on a bit of a mini break right now...

For the first time in a few weeks, I didn't dream about work. Victory! It's a bit of a side effect of the economy I think, because I'm not the first of my friends and constituents to have admitted that co-workers, projects, and deadlines float in the lucid confines of our R.E.M. state. We're all tasked with getting a lot more done these days, with less man-power, less resources, and less hours in the day (at least it seems that way).

But Good Friday managed to insert a foot in the ever-swinging door of work life, and here I sit in my mother's living room, listening to Claude Debussy's Claire de Lune and trying to come to a decision on whether I'd like to try a 2005 Cupcake Vineyards Cabernet Sauvignon from the Central Coast, or a 2006 Trinchero Family Cabernet Sauvignon - composed from a few regions.

I'm not typically a fan of sweeter wines. It's the main reason I'm not a Layer Cake fan. The word Cupcake makes me hesitate. Too much sugar makes me question whether something went bad with the bottle...? But the reality is, I'm drawn to the label. They've done a nice job of branding their bottle. On the right side of the coffee table is a lackluster white label with red piping - fairly modest design, discreet - while on the left is an elegant display of blue raffia looking stems twining their way around, bordered by a yellow frame - very elegant, but not blatantly overdone.

My point is this - the branding of a company and its subsequent products and services is integral to its success.

Branding has been a consistent topic floating around these days in the office. What's worse in today's economy? Accepting revenue from organizations that have the ability to tarnish your brand, or not making a profit - or at the very least break even? I don't have an answer to that question, though the staunch advocate for branding within wants to jump up and wave its hand the highest.

But it seems as though breaking even is winning out in a lot of other places. My little sister informs me that many restaurants and food vendors she's been to lately have been skimping on their product while still charging the same price (i.e. the size of sandwich rolls visibly decreasing while the cost remains the same). One of my friends is a reporter, and informed me that a local franchise recently pushed a press release under her nose boasting a a dollar decrease in their sandwich price. When she asked why that was something she should cover, they stammered a reply that it was good for citizens in this day and age. "Unless you have something to counter Denny's, or the several dollar menus that many people flock to, I don't see how that's of value to my viewers." The push for profit can put brand on the back burner.

In contrast, some organizations are viewing the economy as an opportunity to improve their brand. Let's take Denny's as an example. Their first 'free Grand Slam' breakfast promotional performed phenomenally (alliteration not intentional). And even after their morning's success, they continued to see profits. Capitalizing on the economy can be done - case in point, as they are ready to continue with a second free breakfast promo - but it must be done right. I'm not necessarily excited about Fox's latest TV show idea: "Someone's Gotta Go." Oh lord. It's about as distasteful as grossly sweet wine. It's also more insensitive than I would have thought. In my opinion, the wrong way to capitalize on the economy.

I really hope someone nips that idea before it actually airs. But right now, it's time to feed the horses and grab a few more logs for the fire. When I come back, we'll see about opening that bottle of Cupcake Vineyards cab.

Cin Cin!

Currently Reading: "Memoirs of the Second World War," Winston S. Churchill.

"One day President Roosevelt told me that he was asking publicly for suggestions about what the war should be called. I said at once 'the Unnecessary War.' There never was a war more easy to stop than that which has just wrecked what was left of the world from the previous struggle."

of the economy and the gym...

2009-03-26T08:23:00.000-07:00

(Last night at 7:45 p.m.)…

As I sit here sipping my Merlot, it’s fairly easy to stare out my window at the literal artist’s palette of colors as the sun sinks. It’s easy to forget about the day’s complications: how rushed I felt around 8:15 trying to shoot out a few emails before heading into a creative meeting, how impolite I felt after bolting down a quick lunch with clients and colleagues in the office because I had to get back to my desk, how drained I felt driving from to a Cardboard Box City 2009 meeting - (www.familypromisereno.com).

It’s easy to let all that go and watch the sunset fade into twilight then fade into dark. It’s easy to feel that tension melt from the very top of my head, tingle through my spine and dissipate into thin air (largely in part to the Merlot). But it’s a distraction at best – the reality is I’ve been brainstorming this blog topic for a while and am very tempted to lie down instead of write.

But instead of succumbing to the rest (because we all know I’ll succumb to the wine…) I’m noting a few of my observations of gym society in today’s economy for your enjoyment and/or commiseration.

1. Cost of Membership v. Health Insurance: My word. My gym is packed these days. Now, there could be a lot of reasons for this, but the onset of spring is certainly not one of them. Nor would I even argue that New Years resolutions are still in effect. Everyone knows those are abandoned half-way through February, if not half-way through January. No… I think that the reason I have to wade through a literal sea of cars and elbow my way to an open (and functional!) machine is because the cost of keeping yourself in shape with a gym membership is much lower than incurring larger health problems – especially if your insurance is in jeopardy, or already gone. I think the increased responsibility individuals are taking for themselves in light of these financial hardships is admirable, no doubt, and intend to post a blog on that at a later date. But I still have an issue regarding gym recruiters, which brings me to number…

2. New Members v. Available Space and Machines: Now my gym, as with all gyms, has only a finite amount of square footage. And, while it is open all day every day (save for holidays), there is only a finite amount of machinery. And regardless of its open hour policy, (let’s be serious here) no one is trotting to the gym at 3 a.m. No one! So, given the limited space and equipment, if you see that there are lines forming to get onto the treadmills, ellipticals, and stair climbers at regular hours, when your traffic is highest… stop recruiting for more members! I certainly understand that the branch may be getting pressure to meet or exceed quotas, but I promise – you met your quota at my branch! In addition, at a time when customer service reigns supreme, you risk annoying your current members – who are paying a set amount to have access to those machines when they have the opportunity to get to the gym – not when they have the opportunity to fight their way to the front of the line. In a B2C environment, when there’s already an incredible amount of competition (not to mention the upcoming freedom to outdoor activity), treating your customers like pure gold is something organizations have to have top of mind all the time.

3. Work-Out Clothing v. Statement Clothing: I’ll admit, I don’t know what connection this has to the economy, but it’s worth mentioning purely because it makes me smile every time. Some people may get annoyed at the women who wear spandex and revealing (read: nothing but sports bras) tops… but that doesn’t bother me. I’m used to dealing with girls who flaunt it if they have it. Anyone who’s been a part of the bar scene – in any era – can testify that women will capitalize on what they can to draw attention. This is nothing new. What is new is the rather disturbing new trend of older men wearing short shorts. I’m not without my education. I’m aware of the shorter running short style circa 1970’s, but these gentlemen are old enough to know that a) those have cycled out and b) one only wears short shorts if wanting to make a statement. I’ve often been on the treadmill and taken a glance to my left at the exercise class beyond the glass wall (sometimes they run drills and it’s somewhat entertaining, or they’ll also make collective “hoorah!” or “Ugh!” statements that are equally entertaining) and happen to catch a man on the elliptical machine working those short shorts. This would be less of an issue if the running machines were on a ground floor – but they’re not. They’re on the second floor. Leaving the first floor in prime position to interpret their statement. For me, it’s a combination of running hazard and comedic relief.

And there you have it… just a few notes for now.
More to come later…

Currently Reading: Still halfway through Maugham’s “The Razor’s Edge.”
“If I ever acquire wisdom, I suppose I’ll know what to do with it.”

Cin Cin!

Of red doors and real debt...

2009-03-22T11:56:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, the townhome next to mine was gutted by squatters.

After a long Friday at work, I came home to the adoring glow of my couch and curled up in my favorite blanket to watch 30 Rock and ponder what to do in the evening. About an hour later my roommate came home and asked, rather innocently, whether or not I remember the neighbors having a front door this morning...

Well, yes? Of course... wait, why... now that's an odd question. Granted, in my early morning state, I'm more driven by a finite need to make it to work and fill my coffee cup than anything else. Observing the state of my neighbors' home adornments doesn't quite top the list. But one would think that, if the big red front door of your neighbor's house (we all have red doors...) were missing, you would notice. So I tiptoed outside in my socks and my blanket to confirm for myself. And - by golly - that door was gone! Turns out the realtor was there to take pictures as evidence, and he let us come in to observe the destruction.

My understanding is that the family left about a month prior, but they failed to take certain items - abandoned relics stated the age of the traveling couple: an exercise bike, circa 1970, a few of those oil paintings you see in small town Western-themed hotels (you know, the ones with sagebrush and wagon wheels?), and stacks upon stacks of phone books and TV guides. It wasn't in the best shape, but the important part was that all original appliances and carpentry was left behind.

Now, the squatters (who could have received $1K had they left the place in tip top shape - in effect, its less money the banks have to spend getting it show-ready - the realtor informed me) were not so tactful. In the kitchen it looked as though they ripped out the cabinetry with all the delicacy of a jack hammer and crow bar. There were tile shards all over the floor - and the paper contents of the drawers were spewed onto the carpet. They took the oven, the microwave, and the washer and dryer. But the piece de resistance was the door. The Robin Red door and its hinges had been swiped. They even took the bolts.

I understand that cabinetry and doors aren't cheap. Theoretically they could rake in some extra cash. BUT - these doors are already fitted - they're not standard size doors... and the cabinets are already customized for the size of the kitchens. So, unless they're selling to someone within our unit (in which case they would surely be caught - and charged with a felony), I don't see that investment paying off very much.

As absurd and, even I have to admit, funny as this situation was, it brought two realizations.

A) There were desperate, scheming folks sleeping about 15 feet away from where I was (creepy!), and
B) don't presume everything is always rosy. Because things aren't. Especially in the old Silver state - where "Home means Nevada."

Apparently, Nevada has both the highest rate of foreclosures and the highest unemployment rate in the country. It's a blatant and often abrasive reality: we're living in grossly challenging times. Our current Governor, Jim Gibbons, has just stated his aversion to accepting certain stimulus funds.

It's quite the quandry. From what I understand, Gibbons doesn't want to push the state further into debt by inplementing long-term programs with only a short, finite set of funds. This makes a certain amount of sense, but is it truly sensible? In a letter Gibbons wrote to Obama(http://tinyurl.com/cz7ozn), he stated that he is "concerned that future generations will be burdened with this sizeable and unprecedented debt."

This may be a valid concern. But when our country can't afford to keep employees TODAY, why are we overly concerned with tomorrow? Aren't actions to provide jobs and encourage consumer confidence what we need to get a greater monetary circulation going? I just wonder if perhaps he's putting the cart before the horse here a bit... I have said this before, and will likely say it again - but I could be wrong.

And here is where I reiterate: the door was stolen from the house next to me. And it's not just my neighborhood. I've heard stories from other communities in the Reno/Sparks area that are experiencing similar guttings. Do I really want my state to shun funds that may help a few more families retain their homes? Not necessarily. Do I want to saddle future generations with debt? No. But if it meant keeping a roof over my child today...? Perhaps.

However, I must credit the Governor for his admittance that there are far more important things happening right now than political squabblings: "While we have philosophical differences on the best solutions for Nevada and the country during this economic crisis, we have a responsibility to each American to work towards a better tomorrow."

But here's where you lose major points, Mr. Gibbons, it's 'toward,' not 'towards.'

Currently reading: W. Somerset Maugham's "The Razor's Edge." It's good... you should try it. :)

A little bit like #1

2009-03-07T12:40:00.001-08:00

Ahh...

If (more like when) I left Reno, I would be tasked with finding a vanilla chai latte that could hold its own with Walden Coffee House's heavenly concoction. Now, not to say that other places can't whip up anything in comparison, but its hard in today's era of Starbucks to find an actual cup (I kid you not, this is a cup and saucer kind of affair) of java that literally makes you sink into your chair and wish well to all who even thought about helping create your infusion of caffeine.

Needless to say, with the excess of bikers, students, and folk like me who enjoy their wireless internet, this place should be able to weather today's economic front with a smile on their face. And here's why: because they put a smile on mine. Honest. I'm far less concerned that Starbucks is closing locations across the states in an effort to cut costs. Waiting in line to get my coffee doesn't necessarily put a perma smile on my face. Not only do I skip the line at Walden's, but I pop a very comfortable couch or table (for the laptop) and they bring my joe to me - as quickly as it takes to plug in my gadgets and check my phone. A snap! And ooooh... ooooh the dreams one could have about this vanilla chai latte... Oh yes. I am on top of the world when I take up an hourly residence in this place.

Now, my organization is in the sales performance arena, and - trust me - being thrust into that hyperfocused world has cast a floodlight on the global situation as of late. Things they've preached for years have started surfacing as poignant and 'ah-ha' revelations, when, in reality - if you want to operate your business well in order to expand and grow - organizations should have been implementing them on a dialy basis. Regardless of economy.

Anyhow, my main point is that getting close to your customer is key here. You can see this in a lot of B2C organizations right now. Southwest's inherent belief that your first checked bag shouldn't be charged really strengthens their current relationships with users. Take me... Now, maybe it's because I was completely appalled at having been charged out right for my bag on a United Airlines flight when traveling to Mexico for New Year's... (Really?? You expect me to hop an 4 hour flight with just a toothbrush and fresh underwear? Pshaw...). Remember those analogies from the SATs? If ever there were a pertinent pairing regarding flight travel, it would be: car is to tire as traveler is to: a) hat, b) frame, c) luggage or d) house. Come on! (The correct answer here is 'c').

Another example of customers being #1 in the air? JetBlue (I tweeted about this a while ago - http://tinyurl.com/bmtstb -, its also an excellent use of the economy to position and promote a brand and service respectively) is recognizing that there's a potential new way to categorize their demographis: job holders and job seekers. And where there's confusion, you'll find people looking for answers. JetBlue's thinking that people might be looking to minimize the fear and get away for a bit. So for their customers who have purchased tickets before being layed off, they're reducing fairs. It's a continuous policy now. I tell you - if you lost your job, wouldn't you smile at an organization that sympathized with you? Wouldn't you feel like they're trying to make things easier on you? and then take your trip anyway, because damnit, you deserve it?

So outside of airlines (Ha! See if I ever fly United ever again...), other organizations are making their customers number 1. One bank - http://tinyurl.com/che2n8 - decided to use their superfluous cash to assist customers with their loans. Where is this initiative elsewhere? I won't even mention Wal-Mart, who remains one of the only large organizations (important point here: largest employers) to post growing numbers, and yet they're laying off workers? How is that helpful to their customers? One might pontificate that workers will remain loyal to employee brands and purchase in-house.

Now tell me this: if you're in a position to pay your employees, wouldn't it behoove you to do that? In theory, paid workers are less concerned with keeping an ultra-tight grip on that checkbook. They're the most likely candidates to lead consumer confidence with the example of actions. And the sooner this economy picks up, the sooner more people will lift those death grips on checking and savings accounts and truck to Wal-Mart for the lower priced HDTVs.

I don't pretend to know an inordinant amount about sales (or the state of our economy for that matter), but I'm just making some observations here that, to me, seem pretty common sense. Of course, I have been known to be wrong before, and will undoubtedly be proven wrong in the future.

Unless, of course, you want to go head to head regarding wine. And no, my friends, you do NOT drink boxed wine, and you do NOT drink Carlo Rossi!

But for now, I'm going to continue treating myself like #1. It's a beautiful day outside and I've already tackled a rummage sale (picked up a Rothschild's wine case for $2!) and I'd love to take a bike ride (my waistline is not benefitting from the 9 hr. work days...).

Currently Reading: well, I haven't checked to see which half-read book looks interesting yet. So that remains to be determined.

Just Read: I just finished Revolutionary Road, though, by Richard Yates. Well written read, but I must say I saw the ending coming (I have not seen the movie).

A little bit too strong to swallow...

2009-02-25T13:02:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to pop this somewhere before I lose it. It's an intro to a piece I've got to craft for work - but it's not in line with our organization's voice, and much too pessimistic to pump to the masses. But, I thought it was pretty accurate. I could be wrong. Regardless - I just wanted it somewhere to reference later. (Not like anyone reads this thing anyhow).

----

How the globe cries for clarity, for lucid leadership to take us forward into a stable future. How we wish someone would walk in with conviction and foresight to doctor the economy, and how we would cheer at the shaky, but promising movement as it took its first shaky steps toward progress.

But reality is a cold, harsh, abrasive slap in the face - the economy is not well. And while steps are being taken from the government to do what can be done on their end, the economy is crippled. It’s still whimpering in a dark alley as its assailants flee into the shadows before we can positively identify them, hulking sticks and lead pipes swinging by their sides.

And at the time in the movie when the hero would blaze in on a flame of appropriate action, no one has come forward with the Midas touch. No hero to transform our weakly, sniveling market into a golden calf of prosperity. No one has pointed to a savior on high bringing blessings of stability, profitability, survival – and the sales community is hurting. Everyone is hurting. This is not an arguable point, this is fact.

Regardless of political affiliation, the change of administration offered a quick breath of relief as consumers and stock holders briefly subscribed to a change of pace. With such a bold dialogue working at the root of consumers’ confidence, perhaps this economy can pull itself onto its own two feet again. But it was elusive, fleeting; and elegant words of prose can offer only so much to global economy struggling to complete the basics of its elementary make up. Actionable advice, things we can do, are what we need.

One would be hard pressed to find someone thinking of growth (save for Wal-Mart, who, regardless of their reported rising quarterly numbers, is cutting employees). Growth is a leisurely concept for those industries that were bestowed a failsafe formula for success within their market space. And for those that have it, their trophy shines high on a much-revered pedestal, where salivation pools at the base from those onlookers who have time to turn from their focus of pushing forward to make basic quotas.

The notion of ‘growth’ has been replaced with sustaining, staying, surviving. Survival. It’s no longer an eye-popping word for reality television shows. It’s the word that lingers in the thoughts of investors, CEOs, directors, managers, and salespeople. And with its prolific saturation into the sales organization’s daily ritual comes a wholly new bundle of operating constraints.

Gone are the days of ample time for making decisions. An organization’s timeline for deciding its future course has been accelerated so quickly that there’s a higher margin for error and an unfortunate deeper level of accountability for those that slip into that margin. The stakes are higher.

It’s not enough for the organization as a whole to react to the economic environment. It takes too long. The reality is, if you haven’t been gifted with an inner prophet of sorts, you won’t know what direction to take until it’s too late.

It’s why an outside channel can be considered a gift from the Gods at this time. They’re extensions of the organization, able to comprehend and move on their own – something an organization needs to rely on right now.

-----

The main point of the piece is that Channel outperforms Product every time (to be substantiated by a client), but it's much too long-winded before getting to that point. My flowery literary side sort of took hold of the journalistic side and locked it in a closet.

Regardless, this will be a relic. This piece will change dramatically. Like I said, I just wanted to post it somewhere for my own self. By the way, this is in no way representative of the beliefs that the organization I work for holds - it hasn't been through any review aside from myself, so the beliefs are my own alone.

Much love!

A little bit of Twitter

2009-01-28T13:48:00.000-08:00

I'm twittering. :) (Not that anyone cares, but...)

You can follow me at http://twitter.com/rgattuso.

Cheers!

A bit like flat ginger ale...

2008-11-09T15:04:00.000-08:00

Hello hello!

So I feel pretty deflated these days... not like a balloon, but more like the title alludes to - flat ginger ale.

I kind of feel like I've been out on the kitchen counter for a really long time, consistently bubbling away at work until I suddenly wake up and realize I've left myself out all night and *snap* am now flat. No more bubbles, no more fizz, no more spark... Just a dry, almost tepid existings in a dirty glass.

Which sucks...

Have you ever had a mentally exhausting day where you get home and just. can't. function. ? That's pretty much how my entire week was last week. Showing up early to get a jump start on the day's responsibilities, taking 20 minutes to grab some lunch (never the most healthy option, either) before coming back to the office, then pounding away again until I just can't stomach any more.

Doesn't help that the time change came this Sunday, of course. So now, when I walk out the office doors and its dark (thanks to some pretty consistent cloud cover this week) it feels someone's sapped my energy. I love that it's light when I wake up, it provides the allusion that I slept longer than usual, but still... Someone's stolen my bubbles, my fizz, my spark! The culprit? Hmm... several options to choose from. Is it the over accumulation of work, of stress, of anxiety? Anxiety! Ding - ding - ding! A winner...

Too much work + not enough time + constant pressure to perform + unrelenting details that never seem to let up + those nagging bills... = a severely drained, flat Rachel. I don't have the energy left in my bones to go to the gym (which I know would bump up my energy level were I to do that - oh vicious cycle!). I don't have the energy to cook healthy food (again with the cyclical habits that breed further sloth-like tendencies.

So PLo and I went to Barnes and Noble yesterday. We spent almost 4 hours there. And it was a breath of fresh air! A brief interlude into forceful denial of the existence of work pressures and responsibilities. But more than that, it was like daydreaming of job possibilities. Rows and rows of books, of good literature, of marketable literature, of flash-in-the-pan-but-guilty-pleasure quick reads. Pair it with a gingerbread latte and a stack of books to thumb through before deciding which ones to purchase and you've got a very relaxed individual. I would love some time to simply write, write, and write some more, but on the topic of my choice. Of something I can let my imagination run wild on, and accept critique based on the literate quality versus whether it aligns with a marketing purpose. Not that I don't enjoy my job... I do! But I haven't had an actual scheduled vacation since my sister's wedding, and when I take a sick day sure I'm sick, but I"m also on my couch working. Ah... so with piles of words at my fingertips and oodles of kitschy collectible books (memorable: Breaking Bad News with Baby Animals - book of postcards with cute fuzzy animals touting such lines as "You're not the real father," "It's not me it's you," and "I'm a registered sex offender." heeheehee!)to browse I came out with one for myself and two for gifts. I haven't started reading my book yet (W. Somerset Maugham's The Razor's Edge but I'm excited too, as I loved his The Painted Veil.

I'm still de-fizzed, still de-bubbly, but I"m going to try to jump start things this next week with the gym... with some femme-powered "Can Do" attitude at work, some healthy cooking, and some genuine excitement for the relaxing holidays... and, of course, the wine that ensues.

more animals

A bit like orange...

2008-10-10T16:26:00.000-07:00

Hello all

Ok. So it's been years since I've posted an original blog... but the truth of the matter is that sometimes you're in the mood to write, and sometimes you're not. And, more often than not, when I get home from writing/editing for 8-9 hours, sometimes it's not exactly the first thing I want to do. Anyhow, my job, regardless of its challenges and obstacles, is quite enjoyable and I'm incredibly happy there! Not to mention the fabulous peeps I work with day in and day out...

But no one's here to read about my job (which begs the question whether anyone is here in general at all... heehee). In fact, I'm not even here to deliver a lengthy anecdote or rambling update about my current status. There are ups and downs daily... so I figured this time I'd focus on a list of things I'm really looking forward to that happen to be rolling in with Fall. Which, I have to mention, has to be one of the first times I've ever looked forward to Fall with so much vigor.

So here we go: a list of things, feelings, items, moods that I'm truly looking forward to in the coming months...

- Stepping from the bitter cold of the outside into the warmth of my car or house.
- Watching the leaves turn from green to yellow to fiery red to burnt orange.
- Enjoying a gingerbread latte or pumpkin latte from Starbucks... because it's just not good unless it's Fall or Winter. Reminds me of anxious moments on UNR's campus dreaming of traveling home to family.
- Christmas shopping (with said latte in hand). Driving around to the various shops and listening to my favorite Christmas songs - not on the radio station, but the favorites I've collected over the years.
- Gathering shopping bags chalk full of gifts for friends and loved ones in the back seat of my car... I love watching the pile grow, knowing it will soon be heaped in my living room where I can wrap them in front of a movie with a glass of wine (note - this wine thing will be quite thematic throughout...).
- Thinking on what color I want to theme my gift wrap for the year. Previous years choices: red, gold, silver... I tried to do blue last year but it was pretty hard to find. Haven't decided on a color for this year... so feel free to offer suggestions.
- Not to be forgotten: picking out ribbon to go with the wrapping paper. Alright... sounds girly and frivolous, but give a girl her whimsical fancies. We can't be poet laureates and rocket scientists every hour of the day...
- Picking out gifts for friends and family and imagining their faces when they open them.
- Sonya Kitchell. If ever there were a musical artist with which to brand Fall, it is she! Such an incredible blend of voice and melody - a bit like someone tossed George Winston and KT Tunstall into a blender and pushed the "original" button.
-Ella Fitzgerald. The woman practically emanates Fall.
- That orange light at the end of the day... perfect for reading on the back porch, taking a walk with a friend or loved one, or enjoying a glass of wine with a friend outside.
- Scarves... And sweaters, and boots...
- Daydreaming of turkey and homemade mashed potatoes...
- The renewed desire to write more creative work the season seems to have afforded me.
- Curling up on the couch in my favorite throw blanket (the most delectable, heaven-sent throw in all the land) with a glass of Pinot Noir and a good book (which, of course, throws me into tangent daydreams of how I'll write my own masterpiece) while a fire burns in the woodstove (this particular one has to happen in Smith, as my place doesn't have a woodstove, nor a fireplace).
- Opera season arrives! Coincidental, as Carmen plays on my iTunes. But this Sunday I head off to see the Barber of Seville. Speaking of delectable, heaven-sent items! Can't wait a bit! What a perfect segue...
- Opera. I'll listen to opera whenever I get the fancy... but no season is more conducive than Fall. There's just something about the air... the sharp crackle that works so well with the soothing arias. Mmmm...
- I'm not sure that I love them, but I am appreciating the shorter days. They're kind of nice, thus far. Of course, when I'm walking to my car to leave work in pitch black, ask me how I feel about it.
- This may be getting a bit ahead of myself, but I love watching the snow fall from my apartment. So pretty. So peaceful.

Quite frankly, I enjoy it all. Or, at least I'm trying to learn to. Undoubtedly, I'm a summer person - and not entirely fond of cold that seeps into your bones and refuses to let go. Take me to the beach...

But right now I've got an itch for Fall. Hopefully it stays for a while when it gets here...

A parting gift: I recently stumbled upon a most impressive Shiraz a few weekends ago - which I highly recommend. It's called Green Point. And it's fabulous, if I do say so myself... and, truth be told, I know more about my red than I do about my orange.

Currently reading: The Secret Life of Bees, by Sue Monk Kidd.
"The first week at August's was a consolation, a pure relief. The world will give you that once in a while, a brief time-out; the boxing bell rings and you go to your corner, where somebody dabs mercy on your beat-up life." Sue Monk Kidd.

Just finished: The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough.
"There's a story... a legend, about a bird that sings just once in its life. From the moment it leaves its nest, it searches for a thorn tree... and never rests until it's found one. And then it sings... more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. And singing, it impales itself on the longest, sharpest thorn. But, as it dies, it rises above its own agony, to outsing the lark and the nightingale. The thorn bird pays its life for just one song, but the whole world stills to listen, and God in his heaven smiles." Colleen McCollough

A bit like an old favorite...

2008-08-27T22:19:00.000-07:00

I know. I'm horrible at posting. Which is fine, since my guess is that I have no followers to this blog that would actually throw a fit about my frequency. I have an excess to write at work, so sometimes writing for mere pleasure seems a bit tedious.

But while going through old blogs, I remembered how much I liked this one. So here you go. I've slopped it in as an excerpt... A bit like an old friend - one that makes you smile every time you chat, but one you don't have to chat with every day.

---

The real issue here is that this blog needs to be written - more to calm my rattled nerves and voice my extreme disgust for an anonymous neighbor than anything. And, might I add... any person that can manage to reduce me to a) hyperventilating and b) tears before 8 a.m. should go straight to neighbor hell. May their children or grandchildren have deformities... Fuckers (I'm aware of how strong the words are, but I am quite vehement about the topic.)

This Monday has thus far been the worst Monday I have had in years. Because, really, who needs money? Certainly not me, I have it in spades. *note the dripping sarcasm.* It is only fair to warn you that you are in for excessive sarcasm and generous anger.

Let's begin with this morning's pleasantries, shall we?
The new hair is so managable! It's great to be able to wake up at 6:30 and know I can sleep in an extra ten or fifteen minutes if I so desire. So I do.
Then I switch on GMA. Thanks to last night's highly anticipated end of the writer's strike in the form of the Oscars, GMA is running an "Oscar" special, which I have conflicting views on. While I do certainly appreciate being able to pop in and out of my bathroom to gawk at the Dior gown Cameron Diaz wore, I still don't know that an Oscar recap warrents a 40 minute void of hard news. Because, honestly, who cares that Raul Castro just admitted he's going to be consulting big brother on every issue throughout his reign? Pshaw. Democracy in Cuba probably wouldn't work out anyway...
No matter - the best thing to come from last night's Oscar ceremony was Jon Stewarts joke: "As this is 'Oscar's' 80th year, it makes him the official front runner for the Republican GOP." heeheehee
I had plenty of time this morning to make a luxurious pot of coffee - yes, coffee is luxurious - and soak in the smell. I even had time to take my load from the dryer up to the bed, where I placed (read: dumped) it to be folded at a later time.
After topping off my coffee with a last minute addition of Marshmellow Caramel creamer (hush, it's amazing), I grabbed my coat and scarf, my ID badge and headed out the door to meet a beautifully bright Monday morning. No falling snow! Excessive sun! Hoorah!

*shift of tense for dramatic effect*

I round the street corner, where my car is oddly NOT parked. What the... double take. (Quick internal recap in my head of last night: gym at 4:45, back at 5:45 when I park on the corner so Megan doesn't have to wake up early after a full day of blizzard boarding just to move her car, shower, employment assessment test, tentative sales tip analysis test, Oscars, chicken... dumpling? dinner, will and grace, bed - all of which takes about :15 seconds to run through). Oh fuck, oh fuck! Where in the *gasp* fuck is my car!!?? Ohmygod... somebody stole my car, somebody stole my car. I take a few more steps to peek further down the way... maybe it was parked further on and I was just making an association with one of the other hundred nights where I've parked there. Who knows... Nope. Not there. Oh fuck...
My heart drops and within the :45 seconds it takes for me to walk back to the apartment I've begun hyperventilating. I still try to level my thoughts... is it really in the garage and Meg's car is elsewhere? No. No.
"Megs! Megs, wake up! Megs!" I make it halfway up the stairs before voicing what I'm scared of admitting "I think my car was stolen!"

"What!!?" After explaing the situation to bed-tousled Megan, who advises me to "breathe, Rachel, breathe, lovey, we'll find it" (excellent advice, given that not doing so would only compound problems), I head downstairs to call the boss and search through the lease, hoping for a parking clause that might reveal the towing company's phone number.
I look at the coffee still in my hand and place it on the counter. I can't even stomach the thought of coffee anymore, my stomach is in knots that would compete with a sailor's and I'm fairly sure I'd drop the damn thing anyway.
"Hey, Chris, sooooo I don't think I'm going to make it in this morning, my car maaaay have been stolen and so I don't really know what I'm going to do... tell Nancy I'm sorry about missing the birthday festivities."
Megs trots down the stairs as I slip the phone back into my coat and we both hop into her SUV. "We'll cruise around and just make sure, k, lovey?"
We head towards the scene of the alleged crime and, even though I had hoped it might magically reappear, it's still gone. My little car!! Oh god! What am I supposed to do now? My poor silver baby, it was brand new - Ok, so I bought the thing 2 summers ago, but as we're rounding the corner and I'm taking the towing service's number from the sign on the street, all I can do is imagine some degenerate with scraggly grey hair fingering my steering wheel with nicotine stained fingers as he smokes cheap cigarettes, singing bad country songs and plotting how to get even with his damned baby's mama.
"Listen here, Wanda! I'm serious now - y'all pay me that $32.50 for the NattyIce I bought last weekend - which you and dadgum Earl decided to drink and then screw in our marriage futon - or I'm gonna shove this passat up your precious lime green trailer's ass!"
Pretty soon, degenerate man's face fades from mind as I start piecing together (or irrationally jumping to paranoid conclusions) the past few days' occurances. If the car really is stolen, it would solidify Megs' and my theory that our locks really were tampered with. Just last night we were talking about how the difficulty getting our keys into our lock was probably just the weather, probably us just being overly paranoid given Reno's circumstances... but now all I can think about is Brianna's killer, who has a tendency to attempt breakins before his abductions, and the inmate that is supposedly on the loose in the area and has already stolen a car in Sparks. Ahh... the breathing thing is still difficult, and now the tears are coming.

"Milne Towing Services, this is *muffled, unexcited excuse for a name*"
"Hi, Pam, did you say?"
"Yes... Pam..." glorious. She sounds thrilled for this Monday - and I'm on the verge of losing it. I explain the situation and ask her to check for my car, offering the make, model and plate numbers. At least I'm able to get all the information to her. But damn if she doesn't take an insufferable amount of time to check her records.

What the hell am I going to do... she hasn't said anything in 20 seconds... she can't find it... the car's stolen... oh my god, how do I deal with this? I don't want a new car, I want my car, besides after insurance takes the depreciation value away, I'll be left with something like a Neon or a Dart, I just want my car...

"Yes, we have your car."

Oh Jesus. Another conflicting set of emotions. Damnit, I don't want to pay a fee, but Christ, what the fuck would I have done if the car had been stolen??
"Ok... thanks, Pam... um, can you tell me why it was towed?"
"It was parked in a fire zone," the administrative slug character from Monster's Inc. comes to mind briefly.
"Oh.. that's odd," I say before tearing up again "Well, I'm just happy you guys have it, I was thinking something else had happened to it..."
"It's going to be $185."
Ah. Sympathy and compassion are apparently dead this Monday morning. Thanks for the time to register thought, Pam. It has become apparent that she will be a delight to deal with.
"We're on xxx Gentry Way and we only except cash in the exact amount or a debit card..."
Cool. Can't wait.

Megs takes me down to Gentry and during the drive I call my boss - who assures me it's fine to take the day to settle and calm down - and my older sister - who googles exactly where Gentry is and douses me with a generous helping of love and empathy that makes it hard to get rid of the tears (at which point have become a nuisance and make me wonder why a grown woman is feels the need to cry... still...).

Megs calms me down as we continue and when we arrive, I'm able to transition from weepy, emotional girly wreck dually relieved and upset that her car was towed to statuesque, diplomatic woman who isn't in the mood to shell out cash for someone else's moment of PMS.

Pam is of course waiting. Still stuck with the notion that bangs look great when curled with a 2" barrel and plastered to the forehead with hairspray, Pam is a shining beacon of a blackhole and reminiscent of the congealed bacon grease you leave in a jar to feed to the dogs later. I think she raised her hackles at me on site because she was aware that the person walking in would, by the age of 35, probably make more money than she will have accumulated in her entire life. I'm sorry - not all of us can tow people's car for a living...

"You must be Pam,"
"And you are?"
"Rachel Gattuso... we spoke on the phone, I'm here for my Passat."
"I'll need your driver's license, and your registration, which I assume is in your car."
Indeed... Pam is of the highest intellectual caliber.

She takes my license while Danny (another intellectual type, I'm sure) takes me to my car to get my registration. And, upon seeing my poor car, ostricized in a muddy parking lot of second-rate cars, I get pushed into a deeper red flush than previous and my fuel to walk out of there on the side of righteousnous inflates. Some crappy blue 'cap' is on the top of the car, which means the passat probably just arrived, there's pastey white writing on my windshield, and to add insult to injury, the slushy road conditions from this weekend's snowstorm are evident on my car's hood after traveling behind a tow truck's big tires. Beyond thrilled, I ask Danny if he was the person who actually towed it, to which he admits he is not.
"Well, is there any way to prove that the car was actually in the red zone, then? Because I'm willing to contest the fact..." *he may have been thrown off by the word 'contest' because he can't do much more than stammer something about 'maybe some pictures?'.
"And are you guys going to take that writing off my windshield?"
"Oh... well, I could probably do that with a razor blade,"
"Yeah. That would be great."

When I request proof of the car's alleged impedement of emergency services, Pam's feathers ruffle further and the attendents in the room decrease from 3 to 2. Pam and Danny search desperately for the required proof.
"You'll of course understand my desire to want evidence my car was in violation, right?" I drop as Pam stares at the computer, muttering under her breath.
"Mmmmhmmm..."

It takes them a while, but they finally generate 2 pics on a digital cam, and you can see them breathe relief. I can see Pam thinking "Good thing Jethro didn't forget to snap a pic again..." And by golly, my car IS in the red zone! By AT LEAST 3 inches... I can certainly understand why someone would get their panties in a bunch over 3 inches...

While we wait for Danny to scrape the crap off my windshield, I notice a banana peel on the ground by Megan's driver side door.
"Is that your banana peel?"
"Yup" she says, sliding me an evil grin.
"You should leave it there..." I offer.
"That was the plan." I love you, Megs!

To further illustrate their capacity for thought processes more complex than a monkey could handle, I had to ask them to remove the forklift from the only escape route - in order that I might navigate my now $185 purchase of nothing back home.
"Oh yeah..." Danny says. "Sorry about that..."
No worries - not an inconvenience at all, don't you worry your little head about a thing...

Needless to say, after giving me a heart attack, my first experience hyperventilating and a round of tears altogether before 9 a.m., if I EVER find out who reported the imposing 3 inches to Milne Towing Services and their ever-hospitable Pam, I will be doling out some much needed reciprocity. Somebody owes me a sizeable amount of money.

I will take the opportunity to reiterate the following: revenge is a dish best served cold.

Currently Reading:
The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCullough
"It was the call to duty, and reality. Like a man in slow motion he wrenched the mare around, sat it until he had danced out its excitement. And waited for Meggie to catch him up. That was the trouble. Meggie was catching him up."

Just Finished:
1984, George Orwell

A bit like crushed violets...

2008-06-03T22:32:00.000-07:00

Nothing like getting the itch to write at 10:30 in the evening...

This evening I'm looking at a vase of wilted flowers on my window ledge (which I just payed for, unfortunately) and listening to some truly beautiful music. I don't need to name songs, but I will mention that Hans Zimmer is a very talented composer. Not quite my favorite score composer (an honor reserved for Thomas Newman, whose credits include Sabrina and Meet Joe Black, two of the most beautiful scores you will hear). ♥

I seem to have a close connection with music as I write, which has now transferred into my work habits. I really can't focus, tune out outside influences or hone in a particular piece unless I have the proper music accompanying the effort. I've got a set of headphones for the computer (for CDs I bring in) and a set of headphones for my phone (which I've been adding new music to continually). But without it, I can't do much. So those days when forget a certain pair of headphones? Not so bueno.

Side observation: why must we refer to singular objects as sets or pairs? I.E. headphones, underwear, etc.

This week has been thankfully less stressful than the last few. My boss is on a sabbatical until June 19th, and as everything I write must go through her for approval, that meant I had to generate roughly a month's worth of content. So I have to apologize for my seemingly distant demeanor or my ridiculous schedule followed by days of silence on the phone or text. So if you haven't received a regular communication from me in a while, therein lies the issue. Hopefully I'll get better about it.

But one of my biggest projects to date is getting ready to launch on Thursday, and I'm so very pleased to see it in production right now. It's pretty cool watching what you've written get distributed to a large audience (not sure on the number but I'd like to say close to or over a thousand?). Definitely a neat feeling. That, and the notion that most of my content is generated for the present, helps to reduce stress and plan for working into the future to combat against falling behind.

So, after receiving praise from four different sources - whose positive feedback is greatly appreciated and highly valued - I feel somewhat vindicated and more at ease with myself and my performance.

Now if I can just remember those damn headphones...

Currently Reading: 1984; George Orwell
Just Finished: Are You There, Vodka, It's Me, Chelsea; Chelsea Handler