Mine:
CANCER
(June 22-July 22)
Opportunities for new romantic encounters will unfold
through the social events you attend. Don't let
relatives make demands of you. Luck is with you,
regardless of the financial venture.
Husbands:
GEMINI
(May 22-June 21)
Friends or groups that you're affiliated with may want
you to contribute more cash than you can really afford.
Do not lend money to friends, or contribute more than
necessary to groups unworthy of your cash. You can sort
out any differences you have in an amiable manner.
In other words - tonight I will be flirting shamelessly with Andrew-the-oh-so-cute-oh-so-young waiter and my husband will end up footing our groups bill.
Fun night.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Beer Belly
Last night DuClaws released IV for one night only. IV is a very very very good Maibock. Unfortunately, IV is a very very very good Maibock.
One of the few social things my husband and I do together is go to beer releases at DuClaws. A guy who works with Craig is the DuClaw customer king and always knows when the next big thing is. He knows the brewmasters personally, he can tell when a beer was made with a different malt, basically he's the shepherd and we're the beer-drinking flock. Last night he led his sheep to partake in frosty-bocky nectar.
And we did. Boy did we ever. I drank quite a bit. Not only was IV excellent DuClaws also has my second favorite beer. My first being the Raspberry Wheat found only at McGuire's in northern Florida. My second is a tie between DuClaws' Naked Fish (A Raspberry Chocolate Stout) and DuClaw's Bare Ass Blonde (Obviously a blonde). They are tied because Naked Fish is a temporary beer that you can only get for one month out of the year. Bare Ass Blonde you can get all the time. Especially yesterday when I had three of them on top of my three IV's.
Normally one beer knocks me flat. I'm basically a lightweight and I have no problem with that. But when you're surrounded by sailors and uber-geeks and lots of very very good beer - one isn't gonna work. I got really plastered.
And it wasn't just peer-pressure from my group. Across from us were two little girls. (When I say little I mean they were young.) One was a brunette who was about half my size. I'm fairly trim so she was freaking skinny. Her friend was a blonde who was chubbier than me. They were sitting at a table ordering round after round of hard drinks. Well girly hard drinks. Amaretto Sours, Cosmos, who knows what else. Our waiter (the very cute 18 year old Andrew who I brazenly flirted and oogled throughout the night - mmmmm - candy) was friends with the girls and kept us informed of what number round they were on. 9 by the end of the night. And no food.
And no water till the very end.
It wouldn't have been such a contest if my husband hadn't decided to say "I don't like her, she's too skinny." Of course that's a little true, but husband likes more curves less straight lines, but still you don't say that to your girl...especially if she already has two beers under her belt.
That's where they remain too. Under my belt. I feel like I'm two sizes larger than normal. My pants are falling off my hips...yet I still feel fat. I once knew a girl who drank like there was no tomorrow. She was about as tiny as you can imagine, but she threw them back. I asked her how she managed to drink so much and not get the horrible-girl-beer-belly. She said it's because she never drank beer. Only hard liquor, whiskey and vodka and the like. I'm not sure if I believe that. But the girl last night was ultra-bean-pole and she only had non-beer drinks.
But it's so much sugar. Sugar and alcohol are the stuff lying-on-the-bathroom-floor-puking-your-guts-out dreams are made of. Bet she doesn't look so hot when that pretty straight bob is cover in...
I'm being vindictive. I'm a size seven and because of that I hate all size six's and below. It's a girl thing.
Regardless, it's a hazy tiring day for me. Made all the more daunting by the fact that is it Cinco de Mayo. And guess what we have planned for Cinco de Mayo...that's right. DuClaws. They're having a deal where you buy a beer and a glass and refills are $2. I'll probably throw back a few more Blondes and then my requisite margarita and that'll be it. But even that might be too much. Nothing seems to help my current-it's-been-16-hours-but-I-still-feel-drunk state. I've had a bagel, some fries, three cups of tea, two cups of orange juice and a lot of water. Nada. All I want to do is curl up under my cubicle and sleep.
Instead I do market reports.
And probably put up more posts...because I'm feeling journally.
One of the few social things my husband and I do together is go to beer releases at DuClaws. A guy who works with Craig is the DuClaw customer king and always knows when the next big thing is. He knows the brewmasters personally, he can tell when a beer was made with a different malt, basically he's the shepherd and we're the beer-drinking flock. Last night he led his sheep to partake in frosty-bocky nectar.
And we did. Boy did we ever. I drank quite a bit. Not only was IV excellent DuClaws also has my second favorite beer. My first being the Raspberry Wheat found only at McGuire's in northern Florida. My second is a tie between DuClaws' Naked Fish (A Raspberry Chocolate Stout) and DuClaw's Bare Ass Blonde (Obviously a blonde). They are tied because Naked Fish is a temporary beer that you can only get for one month out of the year. Bare Ass Blonde you can get all the time. Especially yesterday when I had three of them on top of my three IV's.
Normally one beer knocks me flat. I'm basically a lightweight and I have no problem with that. But when you're surrounded by sailors and uber-geeks and lots of very very good beer - one isn't gonna work. I got really plastered.
And it wasn't just peer-pressure from my group. Across from us were two little girls. (When I say little I mean they were young.) One was a brunette who was about half my size. I'm fairly trim so she was freaking skinny. Her friend was a blonde who was chubbier than me. They were sitting at a table ordering round after round of hard drinks. Well girly hard drinks. Amaretto Sours, Cosmos, who knows what else. Our waiter (the very cute 18 year old Andrew who I brazenly flirted and oogled throughout the night - mmmmm - candy) was friends with the girls and kept us informed of what number round they were on. 9 by the end of the night. And no food.
And no water till the very end.
It wouldn't have been such a contest if my husband hadn't decided to say "I don't like her, she's too skinny." Of course that's a little true, but husband likes more curves less straight lines, but still you don't say that to your girl...especially if she already has two beers under her belt.
That's where they remain too. Under my belt. I feel like I'm two sizes larger than normal. My pants are falling off my hips...yet I still feel fat. I once knew a girl who drank like there was no tomorrow. She was about as tiny as you can imagine, but she threw them back. I asked her how she managed to drink so much and not get the horrible-girl-beer-belly. She said it's because she never drank beer. Only hard liquor, whiskey and vodka and the like. I'm not sure if I believe that. But the girl last night was ultra-bean-pole and she only had non-beer drinks.
But it's so much sugar. Sugar and alcohol are the stuff lying-on-the-bathroom-floor-puking-your-guts-out dreams are made of. Bet she doesn't look so hot when that pretty straight bob is cover in...
I'm being vindictive. I'm a size seven and because of that I hate all size six's and below. It's a girl thing.
Regardless, it's a hazy tiring day for me. Made all the more daunting by the fact that is it Cinco de Mayo. And guess what we have planned for Cinco de Mayo...that's right. DuClaws. They're having a deal where you buy a beer and a glass and refills are $2. I'll probably throw back a few more Blondes and then my requisite margarita and that'll be it. But even that might be too much. Nothing seems to help my current-it's-been-16-hours-but-I-still-feel-drunk state. I've had a bagel, some fries, three cups of tea, two cups of orange juice and a lot of water. Nada. All I want to do is curl up under my cubicle and sleep.
Instead I do market reports.
And probably put up more posts...because I'm feeling journally.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Split Personality
I crush a lot. I don't crush everyday. I'm not the type of girl who likes to sit on a bench and look at a bunch of man candy for fun. But when I meet someone who I'm attracted to or who I connect in a certain way with...I get hard crushes. By hard I mean I can feel my body get heavy and fluttery. And my head starts to swim. I get giggly, girly, and I often have...thoughts...fantasies.
My husband knows that I crush and thinks it's funny. He also thinks he knows which guys I'll pick. And sometimes he's right - though lately he's been WAY off the mark.
Of course I crush over him too. Even with this whole morning drama we're having I still wake up and look at him and sigh. I like him. I miss him during the day. When I see something I like I want to share it with him. When something happens or I start pondering things - I want to talk to him about it. I'm in love with him obviously. And he makes me feel giddy.
Despite all that...I had a date with a crush the other night. (A week or so ago.) It was online. Honestly it was just a chat with a person who I have spoken with a few times. He's funny and our conversation has a good rythmn. It's fun. But the other night we had one of those 20-question nights. I have a lot of those with random people. For some reason people like to tell me things about themselves. Stories, tidbits, horrors. I walk down the street and strangers will have personal, private conversations with me. I don't know why they choose to tell me the in's and out's of their life...but I smile, nod, and try to forget it. I know I should feel honored and special that people trust me so much (and I do, especially when it's a friend or an aquiantance that I really like and admire) but usually it makes me feel uncomfortable.
Not this guy though. We had a silly conversation about our favorite cereal and what kind of food we like. The funny quirks and hobbies we like. People who we knew before. It was one of those flowing, fun conversations where any comments could bring on a story about something completely different and both of us felt intrigued and connected. It was a lot of fun. I really enjoyed it. And at the end he said "This is weird, I feel like I've been on a date."
The thing was, so did I. I was filled with that excited, elated, joyful feeling that comes from a good date. And it wasn't just hanging out with a friend, it felt like a date. Aided by the fact that we flirted a lot. I can flirt here and there when I try but with him flirting is easy and smooth and unembarassing and when he flirts back I feel flushed and complimented, not uncomforable and awkward which is how flirting normally makes me feel.
So were we on a date? I think so. And is this bad? Maybe and maybe not.
Flirting is pretty harmless. Yes it can lead to things but it doesn't have too. My husband flirts with other girls, I flirt with other boys. I flirt with him too. And he knows that I crush. And that's it's fleeting and harmless.
But what if you desire what you flirt with? I've heard people say cheating is just thinking about another person. I don't think I believe that. If it were true than people who watch movies for the hotties are cheating. Because let's face it when you see Angelina Jolie on stage you know you're wondering what it'd be like to kiss her, taste those lips, smell that hair. Come on...that's one of her charms.
But what if it's just a normal person, and you just flirt and talk, and at the end you think "If I were a different person in a different situation...I could have that, have him." I like being Katy, I LOVE being married, and I ADORE being married to my husband. I wouldn't want it any other way. But at the same time sometimes I wish I had choosen that other path: The one where I had gone to college full-time at age 18 and had finished my degree last year or this. The one where I had moved to New York and stayed there. Did theatre all the time. Had a job in New York and an apartment. Went on casual dates all through school. Slept with other men. Had my requisite Lesbian College Dorm experience. Gone to a real Spring Break where I got really drunk and flashed my boobs to the "Girls Gone Wild" guys. What if I had done the things I had planned before. If I had then maybe I could flirt with this guy and have it be something more.
The thing with it is, he brings out a side of me that didn't used to exsist. And now it not only exsists...it thrives. I don't feel as shy as I am with other people. I feel like I could be a very different Katy and when I talk to him I feel like I'm a different girl.
But the girl I am now...this Katy belongs to Craig. This Katy is supposed to be here. This Katy wants to be here. This Katy doesn't want to be anyone but who she is. It's just that now I realize there maybe other Katy's out there that just didn't develop because I chose the "Get married to a Sailor at a young age" path rather than the "Become a doctor" path or the "Get pregnant at 16" path. And maybe those Katy's are always here. They're just hiding. And they can't ever really develop...but is it bad to pretend to be one even if it's in my dreams? Is it a betrayal to let a second dimension Katy lead the way for awhile? Is it okay to be the Katy I am with 20-questions guy and just let a little of her seep into the Katy I am with Craig? Is it okay to explore these other people? Am I just working towards being whole or am I dividing myself?
And how do I introduce the Girls-Gone-Wild-Katy to my husband?
Bet that would get him to come to bed.
My husband knows that I crush and thinks it's funny. He also thinks he knows which guys I'll pick. And sometimes he's right - though lately he's been WAY off the mark.
Of course I crush over him too. Even with this whole morning drama we're having I still wake up and look at him and sigh. I like him. I miss him during the day. When I see something I like I want to share it with him. When something happens or I start pondering things - I want to talk to him about it. I'm in love with him obviously. And he makes me feel giddy.
Despite all that...I had a date with a crush the other night. (A week or so ago.) It was online. Honestly it was just a chat with a person who I have spoken with a few times. He's funny and our conversation has a good rythmn. It's fun. But the other night we had one of those 20-question nights. I have a lot of those with random people. For some reason people like to tell me things about themselves. Stories, tidbits, horrors. I walk down the street and strangers will have personal, private conversations with me. I don't know why they choose to tell me the in's and out's of their life...but I smile, nod, and try to forget it. I know I should feel honored and special that people trust me so much (and I do, especially when it's a friend or an aquiantance that I really like and admire) but usually it makes me feel uncomfortable.
Not this guy though. We had a silly conversation about our favorite cereal and what kind of food we like. The funny quirks and hobbies we like. People who we knew before. It was one of those flowing, fun conversations where any comments could bring on a story about something completely different and both of us felt intrigued and connected. It was a lot of fun. I really enjoyed it. And at the end he said "This is weird, I feel like I've been on a date."
The thing was, so did I. I was filled with that excited, elated, joyful feeling that comes from a good date. And it wasn't just hanging out with a friend, it felt like a date. Aided by the fact that we flirted a lot. I can flirt here and there when I try but with him flirting is easy and smooth and unembarassing and when he flirts back I feel flushed and complimented, not uncomforable and awkward which is how flirting normally makes me feel.
So were we on a date? I think so. And is this bad? Maybe and maybe not.
Flirting is pretty harmless. Yes it can lead to things but it doesn't have too. My husband flirts with other girls, I flirt with other boys. I flirt with him too. And he knows that I crush. And that's it's fleeting and harmless.
But what if you desire what you flirt with? I've heard people say cheating is just thinking about another person. I don't think I believe that. If it were true than people who watch movies for the hotties are cheating. Because let's face it when you see Angelina Jolie on stage you know you're wondering what it'd be like to kiss her, taste those lips, smell that hair. Come on...that's one of her charms.
But what if it's just a normal person, and you just flirt and talk, and at the end you think "If I were a different person in a different situation...I could have that, have him." I like being Katy, I LOVE being married, and I ADORE being married to my husband. I wouldn't want it any other way. But at the same time sometimes I wish I had choosen that other path: The one where I had gone to college full-time at age 18 and had finished my degree last year or this. The one where I had moved to New York and stayed there. Did theatre all the time. Had a job in New York and an apartment. Went on casual dates all through school. Slept with other men. Had my requisite Lesbian College Dorm experience. Gone to a real Spring Break where I got really drunk and flashed my boobs to the "Girls Gone Wild" guys. What if I had done the things I had planned before. If I had then maybe I could flirt with this guy and have it be something more.
The thing with it is, he brings out a side of me that didn't used to exsist. And now it not only exsists...it thrives. I don't feel as shy as I am with other people. I feel like I could be a very different Katy and when I talk to him I feel like I'm a different girl.
But the girl I am now...this Katy belongs to Craig. This Katy is supposed to be here. This Katy wants to be here. This Katy doesn't want to be anyone but who she is. It's just that now I realize there maybe other Katy's out there that just didn't develop because I chose the "Get married to a Sailor at a young age" path rather than the "Become a doctor" path or the "Get pregnant at 16" path. And maybe those Katy's are always here. They're just hiding. And they can't ever really develop...but is it bad to pretend to be one even if it's in my dreams? Is it a betrayal to let a second dimension Katy lead the way for awhile? Is it okay to be the Katy I am with 20-questions guy and just let a little of her seep into the Katy I am with Craig? Is it okay to explore these other people? Am I just working towards being whole or am I dividing myself?
And how do I introduce the Girls-Gone-Wild-Katy to my husband?
Bet that would get him to come to bed.
Operation Bedtime
The Bedtime Experiment is off to a rocky start.
Well it's off to no start really. Much like making a resolution to go on a diet on January 1st, then trallumping off to some party full of left-over Christmas decadents. Yes, I had to start Operation Bedtime the night The Black Guard decided to run the instances.
The Black Guard is a guild within the World of Warcraft (WoW) game. Both my husband and I are members. I don't play all that much (though for a few months I was addicted) but my husband's Female Nightelf Rogue has gotten to level 40-something maybe 50 and now with the new honor system in place for PVP...all I see in the back of his head and all I hear from the blasted computer is "Not Enough Energy"
If you've no idea what that last paragraph was about...count yourself fortunate.
In anycase, an instance is the kind of thing you need to stick with your party for. You can abandon your party, but don't expect to be invited to play again anytime soon. I unfortunately didn't know my husband had partied up to run the dungeon till it was 9:30pm and he was in the thick of it. No such thing as a 30 minute instance run.
I had to amend the rules. I allowed him to play till 10:30pm and forgo the allotted time on his laptop in bed. (The laptop is set on his bedside table, he usually reads his message boards and forums while in bed - ah foreplay.) Unfortunately for all the yelling myself and my cat were doing...we couldn't coax him to bed. I tried, but by 10:45pm I was asleep myself. I have no idea what time he got to bed.
Morning didn't come off too well either. I woke up at 4am...sick and sore. I have no idea what from. I've been feeling icky all day. Suffice to say I didn't go to the gym an hour later. I did however prod him awake...over...and over....and over.
Me: Hon, it's 5:18 what time are you getting up?
Him: 5:20
Me: It's 5:20 now.
Him: I meant 5:25
Me: How about 5:30 so I can just set the alarm.
Him: *snore*
Me: It's 5:30...the alarm is going off...turn it off.
Him: *snore*
Him: *whine*
Him: *whacking alarm hard and hitting my throat with it*
Him: *snore*
It went like that till 5:40. Then he rolled over and just layed there for five minutes. Then he got up and...here's the kicker...signed on to WoW. I thought he had headed for the shower and snuggled down to rest while he was in there. But no. I got back up at 6am and he was still playing the stupid game. I started ironing his uniform, put the kettle on, fed the fish, he went to take a shower. He wasn't dressed till 6:35am and I honestly don't know if he got to work on time.
I don't know if this all went to pot because I was sick and less adamant or because this is a lost cause. I will never be able to help my husband get to bed or work on time.
I think I feel worse about this than he does.
Well it's off to no start really. Much like making a resolution to go on a diet on January 1st, then trallumping off to some party full of left-over Christmas decadents. Yes, I had to start Operation Bedtime the night The Black Guard decided to run the instances.
The Black Guard is a guild within the World of Warcraft (WoW) game. Both my husband and I are members. I don't play all that much (though for a few months I was addicted) but my husband's Female Nightelf Rogue has gotten to level 40-something maybe 50 and now with the new honor system in place for PVP...all I see in the back of his head and all I hear from the blasted computer is "Not Enough Energy"
If you've no idea what that last paragraph was about...count yourself fortunate.
In anycase, an instance is the kind of thing you need to stick with your party for. You can abandon your party, but don't expect to be invited to play again anytime soon. I unfortunately didn't know my husband had partied up to run the dungeon till it was 9:30pm and he was in the thick of it. No such thing as a 30 minute instance run.
I had to amend the rules. I allowed him to play till 10:30pm and forgo the allotted time on his laptop in bed. (The laptop is set on his bedside table, he usually reads his message boards and forums while in bed - ah foreplay.) Unfortunately for all the yelling myself and my cat were doing...we couldn't coax him to bed. I tried, but by 10:45pm I was asleep myself. I have no idea what time he got to bed.
Morning didn't come off too well either. I woke up at 4am...sick and sore. I have no idea what from. I've been feeling icky all day. Suffice to say I didn't go to the gym an hour later. I did however prod him awake...over...and over....and over.
Me: Hon, it's 5:18 what time are you getting up?
Him: 5:20
Me: It's 5:20 now.
Him: I meant 5:25
Me: How about 5:30 so I can just set the alarm.
Him: *snore*
Me: It's 5:30...the alarm is going off...turn it off.
Him: *snore*
Him: *whine*
Him: *whacking alarm hard and hitting my throat with it*
Him: *snore*
It went like that till 5:40. Then he rolled over and just layed there for five minutes. Then he got up and...here's the kicker...signed on to WoW. I thought he had headed for the shower and snuggled down to rest while he was in there. But no. I got back up at 6am and he was still playing the stupid game. I started ironing his uniform, put the kettle on, fed the fish, he went to take a shower. He wasn't dressed till 6:35am and I honestly don't know if he got to work on time.
I don't know if this all went to pot because I was sick and less adamant or because this is a lost cause. I will never be able to help my husband get to bed or work on time.
I think I feel worse about this than he does.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Runaway Wife
This morning all they talked about on the news shows was the Runaway Bride. Ignoring the fact that some crazy woman running away is not truly the kind of news story that deserves 24 hour coverage - it now has 24 hour coverage.
There was all kinds of speculation this morning over whether her fiancee should take her back, if she should go to jail, pay a fine. If she was really mentally ill or just rude. Blah blah blah. I don't in fact care about any of it, but I thought as I listened to these people who call in to have their opinion used as a way for the pretty blonde weather man to sound witty and then be completely ignored - If she was scared BEFORE the wedding...just wait.
We had our own little marital drama this morning. By drama I mean a comment was made and then we ignored it and went to work. My husband is notoriously difficult to wake up in the morning. I usually need to prod him every nine minutes for an hour and a half before I can get him up. When I turn on the lights to encourage him he throws a huge hissy fit. It's not pleasant, for either of us I'm sure. Unfortunately he does in fact need to get up in the morning so he can get to work by 7am. He has yet to reach this goal since it was set a couple of months ago. (This is a whole 'nother long story and contains many "Stupid idiotic Navy-weenies" in it.)
The irony in all this is he often complains that I can never be gotten up. This is my husbands double-standard. I'm held to extremely high standards while he can get away with sleeping-in for an hour and a half. If I sleep in an extra five minutes...I'm lazy.
In anycase today, after I woke him up and finally pushed his butt out of bed, he mentioned "I can't sleep this late anymore!" In the sort of tone that said "Don't let me sleep in so late anymore."
Yep, it's all my fault he can't wake up. I wake up at 5am. Usually I go to the gym but sometimes I just roll over and say "Hey hon...it's 5...time to get up." Why do I just roll over and say that? Because I don't have to be at work till 8am...and I don't have to leave till 7:40am. As opposed to my husband's required departure of 6am. He HAS to get up first so he can shower and get ready before I do. He never has. And apparently it's because I'm still in bed.
While the notion that he can't pull himself away from me in the morning is romantic. It gets less romantic when it means I will need to start waking up at 4:30am every morning just to make sure that he is at work on time.
To achieve this goal I have just laid out some ground rules.
1. We now have a set bedtime. If he is not in bed by that bedtime I turn off the lights on him and unplug his computer. He is going to bed!
2. He has exactly 30 minutes to play on the laptop on the bed. By the time 30 minutes is up...I again unplug the laptop and turn off the lights on him. Likewise I am only allowed 30 minutes of reading in bed. By 30 minutes my light must be out.
3. I will wake up at 4:30am and get ready for the gym. By the time I have gotten dressed, put the kettle on for tea and ironed his uniform he will have woken up. If he hasn't gotten out of bed by then I turn the second alarm clock on in the other room and make him get up to turn it off.
By the time he's up and moving I should be able to go to the gym without worrying about him. He'll get dressed, eat, and leave for work. I'll be home in time to give him a kiss and jump in the shower myself.
I'm hoping the new plan works. I feel like he's my child instead of my husband. I'm tempted to tell him that if this plan doesn't work I'm confiscating his computer-game priviledges.
Could I just spank him?
Better yet...could I runaway myself? I wouldn't mind a little first-class trip to the middle of nowhere. I'll even write to the FBI before I leave so they won't look for me:
Dear Government:
I am running away so I can sleep past 4:30am. Please keep the dogs at home.
Don't tell my husband.
Sincerely,
Katy
There was all kinds of speculation this morning over whether her fiancee should take her back, if she should go to jail, pay a fine. If she was really mentally ill or just rude. Blah blah blah. I don't in fact care about any of it, but I thought as I listened to these people who call in to have their opinion used as a way for the pretty blonde weather man to sound witty and then be completely ignored - If she was scared BEFORE the wedding...just wait.
We had our own little marital drama this morning. By drama I mean a comment was made and then we ignored it and went to work. My husband is notoriously difficult to wake up in the morning. I usually need to prod him every nine minutes for an hour and a half before I can get him up. When I turn on the lights to encourage him he throws a huge hissy fit. It's not pleasant, for either of us I'm sure. Unfortunately he does in fact need to get up in the morning so he can get to work by 7am. He has yet to reach this goal since it was set a couple of months ago. (This is a whole 'nother long story and contains many "Stupid idiotic Navy-weenies" in it.)
The irony in all this is he often complains that I can never be gotten up. This is my husbands double-standard. I'm held to extremely high standards while he can get away with sleeping-in for an hour and a half. If I sleep in an extra five minutes...I'm lazy.
In anycase today, after I woke him up and finally pushed his butt out of bed, he mentioned "I can't sleep this late anymore!" In the sort of tone that said "Don't let me sleep in so late anymore."
Yep, it's all my fault he can't wake up. I wake up at 5am. Usually I go to the gym but sometimes I just roll over and say "Hey hon...it's 5...time to get up." Why do I just roll over and say that? Because I don't have to be at work till 8am...and I don't have to leave till 7:40am. As opposed to my husband's required departure of 6am. He HAS to get up first so he can shower and get ready before I do. He never has. And apparently it's because I'm still in bed.
While the notion that he can't pull himself away from me in the morning is romantic. It gets less romantic when it means I will need to start waking up at 4:30am every morning just to make sure that he is at work on time.
To achieve this goal I have just laid out some ground rules.
1. We now have a set bedtime. If he is not in bed by that bedtime I turn off the lights on him and unplug his computer. He is going to bed!
2. He has exactly 30 minutes to play on the laptop on the bed. By the time 30 minutes is up...I again unplug the laptop and turn off the lights on him. Likewise I am only allowed 30 minutes of reading in bed. By 30 minutes my light must be out.
3. I will wake up at 4:30am and get ready for the gym. By the time I have gotten dressed, put the kettle on for tea and ironed his uniform he will have woken up. If he hasn't gotten out of bed by then I turn the second alarm clock on in the other room and make him get up to turn it off.
By the time he's up and moving I should be able to go to the gym without worrying about him. He'll get dressed, eat, and leave for work. I'll be home in time to give him a kiss and jump in the shower myself.
I'm hoping the new plan works. I feel like he's my child instead of my husband. I'm tempted to tell him that if this plan doesn't work I'm confiscating his computer-game priviledges.
Could I just spank him?
Better yet...could I runaway myself? I wouldn't mind a little first-class trip to the middle of nowhere. I'll even write to the FBI before I leave so they won't look for me:
Dear Government:
I am running away so I can sleep past 4:30am. Please keep the dogs at home.
Don't tell my husband.
Sincerely,
Katy
Monday, May 02, 2005
Administrating Days
Last Wednesday was Administrative Professionals Day. It used to be called Secretary Day till the Army of the Righteous Tweed Skirt with White Sneakers stood at the Gates of Coporateville and said "Hell no we're not getting you no coffee!" Now it's Administrative Professionals Day...and yes I do get coffee.
In fact I have a new secretary-like job starting last week. I was in crazy transition between the "Depression Office" and Unemployment. Then low and behold the same company I temp-ed for last Spring/Summer/Fall called me back in. I used to be a database maintainer for them, now I'm an Admin for one of their VP's. It's interesting. I'm used to working directly toward the goal of the Company. Even when I was just an Admin I was always doing work directly related to it. Now I maintain his office schedule and order him lunch. I know that aiding him aids the Company objective (which is of course make a ton of money for very little work) but I don't really feel like whether or not he gets fruit or chips with his sandwich is really all that important.
However, I did get a nice little bouquet of flowers on Wednesday and the VP's took the Admins in our Department out to lunch on Thursday. This wasn't really all the thrilling since I was the second youngest person there (only because Thursday was "Take Your Daughter or Son to Work Day" and one of the Admin's 15 year old daughter was there.)
((Incidentally that day also used to be called something else : "Take Your Daughter to Work Day" in an effort to help girls feel like they too could grow up and work outside of the home. It also used to be a Girl Scout only thing and I was a little surprised none of the girls were in full dress uniform. I always had to wear my uniform. The whole thing, including tie and knee high socks with those awful turn-your-feet-purple green tassel garters. And lets not get started on the beanie for brownies....))
Anyway I was the youngest person there, save the kid, and the most quiet. I don't have children so already half the conversation was out of my league. However at least I wasn't part of the league. The poor girl had to sit through her Mother's recounting of when she was into Barney. Which spurred my boss to tell of the time he once played Barney for a church thing. He thought that would endear him to the poor 15-year-old. I thought she was gonna stick her head in her fried rice.
And that's the other hazard of eating with those people. Fried Rice was their exotic Chinese food. I'm used to real exotic food. I like to try new things. More authentic the better. If it's spicy then let it be spicy. Bring it on, lets have fun. The people who live in my community however are more white bread and safe. When I mention sushi they look aghast at the thought of raw fish and eel.
Mmm, bring it.
Needless to say no one tried my chinese dish that day. It wasn't that crazy: Coconut Curry Vegetables and Tofu. The tofu scared them. They ate fried rice and lettuce wraps...without the sauce.
Ah well. Cest la vie yes?
In other news I am learning French...at least how to speak it. Still gearing up for Montreal. I ordered the CD lessons with Michel Thomas. It's great. Already I can form sentences and not just by rote. He's really very good. It's not a "I am a parrot and will say whatever you say" kinda system, and it's not complete immersion. I'm not good at immersion without being able to see peoples faces and gestures. If you point to a cat and say "chat" then I'll get it. But if I just hear "Cest Chat" I'm gonna say "Cest Dumb." Anyway this one he gives you a few words and points out that most English words are already French with a few different pronunciations. So already my vocabulary is pretty good. And I just add the few fillers which he introduces slowly. Poof, I'm speaking French. Now I still can't read and write in French, which won't help when we drive to Montreal and all the traffic signs are in French. But then I intend on using "Ju Dumb American" a lot.
There is another difference between myself and the people I work with. Everyone here thinks I'm their age...later 20's-mid 30's. Not 22. And they all have the same plans. They are all going on cruises for their vacations. I am driving with my husband in a little Miata to Canada. I can't imagine staying on a boat for days. Unless it was a sailboat or something. But just hanging out in a Hotel that you can't leave because there is thousands of miles of water all around. I grew up in that - It was called Hawaii - let me get out and GO somewhere. See something. Yes Montreal may not be as exotic at the Azoras or the Bahamas, but at least I'll be pounding the cobblestone pavement and mingling with new people. Apparently grouchy people who yell in French and greet in English. We've been trying to confirm our lodging reservations for awhile now. And we keep asking when is the best time to call them and speak on the phone, as opposed to the crazy email back and forth. In other words...WHEN DO YOU PICK UP YOUR PHONE? They reply "Monseiur, Madam, you wait a lot yes...give us your credit card number again" "NO - I'LL DO IT OVER THE PHONE" "Yes yes, call us." "WHEN DO YOU PICK UP YOUR PHONE." "We will pick up our phone when you have given us your credit card through the unsecured email and have spent the exact same amount on long distance calls as we intend to charge you for the entire two week stay...with added stuff in french." I'm sure it'll all be fine. But wait till that guy meets me in person. There is a reason you don't mess with Navy Wives.
Of course I'll wait to tell him what I think till 1) We've checked out and he no longer handles our sleeping area or breakfast and 2) I can fully express myself in French. Merde will play a great part.
I should end this with something profound...but I don't have anything. So...
AAAAHHHHHH I'm falling off a cliff AAAAHHHH
-Katy
In fact I have a new secretary-like job starting last week. I was in crazy transition between the "Depression Office" and Unemployment. Then low and behold the same company I temp-ed for last Spring/Summer/Fall called me back in. I used to be a database maintainer for them, now I'm an Admin for one of their VP's. It's interesting. I'm used to working directly toward the goal of the Company. Even when I was just an Admin I was always doing work directly related to it. Now I maintain his office schedule and order him lunch. I know that aiding him aids the Company objective (which is of course make a ton of money for very little work) but I don't really feel like whether or not he gets fruit or chips with his sandwich is really all that important.
However, I did get a nice little bouquet of flowers on Wednesday and the VP's took the Admins in our Department out to lunch on Thursday. This wasn't really all the thrilling since I was the second youngest person there (only because Thursday was "Take Your Daughter or Son to Work Day" and one of the Admin's 15 year old daughter was there.)
((Incidentally that day also used to be called something else : "Take Your Daughter to Work Day" in an effort to help girls feel like they too could grow up and work outside of the home. It also used to be a Girl Scout only thing and I was a little surprised none of the girls were in full dress uniform. I always had to wear my uniform. The whole thing, including tie and knee high socks with those awful turn-your-feet-purple green tassel garters. And lets not get started on the beanie for brownies....))
Anyway I was the youngest person there, save the kid, and the most quiet. I don't have children so already half the conversation was out of my league. However at least I wasn't part of the league. The poor girl had to sit through her Mother's recounting of when she was into Barney. Which spurred my boss to tell of the time he once played Barney for a church thing. He thought that would endear him to the poor 15-year-old. I thought she was gonna stick her head in her fried rice.
And that's the other hazard of eating with those people. Fried Rice was their exotic Chinese food. I'm used to real exotic food. I like to try new things. More authentic the better. If it's spicy then let it be spicy. Bring it on, lets have fun. The people who live in my community however are more white bread and safe. When I mention sushi they look aghast at the thought of raw fish and eel.
Mmm, bring it.
Needless to say no one tried my chinese dish that day. It wasn't that crazy: Coconut Curry Vegetables and Tofu. The tofu scared them. They ate fried rice and lettuce wraps...without the sauce.
Ah well. Cest la vie yes?
In other news I am learning French...at least how to speak it. Still gearing up for Montreal. I ordered the CD lessons with Michel Thomas. It's great. Already I can form sentences and not just by rote. He's really very good. It's not a "I am a parrot and will say whatever you say" kinda system, and it's not complete immersion. I'm not good at immersion without being able to see peoples faces and gestures. If you point to a cat and say "chat" then I'll get it. But if I just hear "Cest Chat" I'm gonna say "Cest Dumb." Anyway this one he gives you a few words and points out that most English words are already French with a few different pronunciations. So already my vocabulary is pretty good. And I just add the few fillers which he introduces slowly. Poof, I'm speaking French. Now I still can't read and write in French, which won't help when we drive to Montreal and all the traffic signs are in French. But then I intend on using "Ju Dumb American" a lot.
There is another difference between myself and the people I work with. Everyone here thinks I'm their age...later 20's-mid 30's. Not 22. And they all have the same plans. They are all going on cruises for their vacations. I am driving with my husband in a little Miata to Canada. I can't imagine staying on a boat for days. Unless it was a sailboat or something. But just hanging out in a Hotel that you can't leave because there is thousands of miles of water all around. I grew up in that - It was called Hawaii - let me get out and GO somewhere. See something. Yes Montreal may not be as exotic at the Azoras or the Bahamas, but at least I'll be pounding the cobblestone pavement and mingling with new people. Apparently grouchy people who yell in French and greet in English. We've been trying to confirm our lodging reservations for awhile now. And we keep asking when is the best time to call them and speak on the phone, as opposed to the crazy email back and forth. In other words...WHEN DO YOU PICK UP YOUR PHONE? They reply "Monseiur, Madam, you wait a lot yes...give us your credit card number again" "NO - I'LL DO IT OVER THE PHONE" "Yes yes, call us." "WHEN DO YOU PICK UP YOUR PHONE." "We will pick up our phone when you have given us your credit card through the unsecured email and have spent the exact same amount on long distance calls as we intend to charge you for the entire two week stay...with added stuff in french." I'm sure it'll all be fine. But wait till that guy meets me in person. There is a reason you don't mess with Navy Wives.
Of course I'll wait to tell him what I think till 1) We've checked out and he no longer handles our sleeping area or breakfast and 2) I can fully express myself in French. Merde will play a great part.
I should end this with something profound...but I don't have anything. So...
AAAAHHHHHH I'm falling off a cliff AAAAHHHH
-Katy
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Le soleil est brulant!
I'm going to Montreal!!!!
We're going to Montreal!
This is very exciting. My husband is a huge car guy. He autocrosses both his '94 Mazda Miata and our '05 Mini Cooper S (notice how I say it's HIS miata but it's OUR mini - that car is mine...mine...all mine...). He is also a big Formula 1 fan. So big that we have bought tickets to see the Grand Prix in...da-da-da-dum MONTREAL!
Did I say this was exciting? C. (my husband) and I went to the bookstore together and picked up travel guides (Lonely Planet and The Rough Guide), maps (Insight) and a Jiffy Phrasebook for French. We're going to learn french so we can spend ten glorious days pretending to be trendy, hip, swinging Quebecians.
I'm currently on the hunt for some CD lessons and a good workbook/activity course. I am pumped, let's learn French.
I've wanted to learn for a very long time. Just never bought the cd-rom's when I saw them...never had time...blah blah. Have to now though. I know they speak English there too, but it'll be easier if I have some passing skill in reading and speaking French.
I'm so excited. I said that right? This is the first trip I've ever had to prepare for. Besides packing and some slight research (Like don't buy dogs from well meaning vendors in Tijuana) I've never had to really think about the places I was going. But now we're doing the whole tourist thing and I couldn't be happier.
I've been combing the phrasebook. It's difficult to get the pronuciation but I'm getting the hang of it. Already I can count....to five...but I start at zero!
By the way the french word for zero is zero. Go figure.
This is all new and fun because I learned Hawaiian and Japanese when in high school. (I grew up in Maui.) So a language that uses the English alphabet is just brilliant. Yey!
I'm going to Montreal, I'm going to Montreal...
Woot!
A demain!
We're going to Montreal!
This is very exciting. My husband is a huge car guy. He autocrosses both his '94 Mazda Miata and our '05 Mini Cooper S (notice how I say it's HIS miata but it's OUR mini - that car is mine...mine...all mine...). He is also a big Formula 1 fan. So big that we have bought tickets to see the Grand Prix in...da-da-da-dum MONTREAL!
Did I say this was exciting? C. (my husband) and I went to the bookstore together and picked up travel guides (Lonely Planet and The Rough Guide), maps (Insight) and a Jiffy Phrasebook for French. We're going to learn french so we can spend ten glorious days pretending to be trendy, hip, swinging Quebecians.
I'm currently on the hunt for some CD lessons and a good workbook/activity course. I am pumped, let's learn French.
I've wanted to learn for a very long time. Just never bought the cd-rom's when I saw them...never had time...blah blah. Have to now though. I know they speak English there too, but it'll be easier if I have some passing skill in reading and speaking French.
I'm so excited. I said that right? This is the first trip I've ever had to prepare for. Besides packing and some slight research (Like don't buy dogs from well meaning vendors in Tijuana) I've never had to really think about the places I was going. But now we're doing the whole tourist thing and I couldn't be happier.
I've been combing the phrasebook. It's difficult to get the pronuciation but I'm getting the hang of it. Already I can count....to five...but I start at zero!
By the way the french word for zero is zero. Go figure.
This is all new and fun because I learned Hawaiian and Japanese when in high school. (I grew up in Maui.) So a language that uses the English alphabet is just brilliant. Yey!
I'm going to Montreal, I'm going to Montreal...
Woot!
A demain!
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Enter the Main Character
I was just gonna jump into posting and forget the intro - but what the heck lets do an introduction.
Enter KATY she is 22 years old. She is married.
("Wow she got married young huh?" "Yes she did." "Why'd she get married so young?" "You'll have to ask her." "Was she pregnant?" "Like I said you'll have to ask her." "Okay. Katy why did you get married so young? Is it cause you were..." "Ask her after the intro." "Oh...okay.")
She is married to an Active Duty member of the United States Navy.
("Oh, she was pregnant huh." "No she wasn't pregnant." "But she's a Navy wife. We all know Navy wives just go around looking for Sailors then get knocked up to make them marry them so they can escape the factory that they work in and their mother worked in and their mother's mother..." "She was not pregnant." "Oh I know she wasn't really pregnant. I saw 'An Officer and a Gentleman' I know what's what." "This is not some old re-run of a Richard Gere movie on Saturday Morning" "Was she a stripper then?" "What?!" "A stripper...you know...only the bad kind so she couldn't snag a Marine she had to settle for a Sailor." "She is not a stripper!" "But she was...riiiight. Wink wink nudge nudge" "Just...be...quiet." "Fine.")
As I was saying KATY enters, she is a 22 year old Navy wife with no children.
("Bow-chicka-wow-wow" "SHUT-UP" "Sorry.")
She is a 22 year old Navy wife with no children and all her clothes on. The only pole she polishes is...er...nevermind.
She is an 18 year veteran of the Legitimate Theatre.
("Legitimate huh...what makes it so legitimate...strip clubs are well established businesses..." "I meant legitimate as in the stage, the boards, live theatre - " "You got the 'r' and the 'e' mixed up in theater there buddy." "WILL YOU GO AWAY!?")
She does stuff on stage.
She also writes for the stage.
("Oh...so that's why we're having this conversation." "No you're just bothering me...it is not a conversation." "Well we're talking to one another." "I'm just humoring you." "Well look who's all high and mighty just cause he got to do the introduction instead of me." "If you wanted to do it you could have said something." "Well no one asked." "Then do it." "I don't know her." "Oh for PETE'S SAKE.")
KATY enters, hook and sword in hand, she carts off Abbott and Costello ("Hey who are you calling a PRIEST?!") and holds them at sword point.
Folks we're gonna have to cut the intro short tonight due to technical difficulties (and these two bone-heads). In the meantime please enjoy this dancing bear.
Circus music begins as a pink bear in a brown tutu enters and begins to perform a complicate Irish clog while reciting nursery rhymes in Vietnamese.
Enter KATY she is 22 years old. She is married.
("Wow she got married young huh?" "Yes she did." "Why'd she get married so young?" "You'll have to ask her." "Was she pregnant?" "Like I said you'll have to ask her." "Okay. Katy why did you get married so young? Is it cause you were..." "Ask her after the intro." "Oh...okay.")
She is married to an Active Duty member of the United States Navy.
("Oh, she was pregnant huh." "No she wasn't pregnant." "But she's a Navy wife. We all know Navy wives just go around looking for Sailors then get knocked up to make them marry them so they can escape the factory that they work in and their mother worked in and their mother's mother..." "She was not pregnant." "Oh I know she wasn't really pregnant. I saw 'An Officer and a Gentleman' I know what's what." "This is not some old re-run of a Richard Gere movie on Saturday Morning" "Was she a stripper then?" "What?!" "A stripper...you know...only the bad kind so she couldn't snag a Marine she had to settle for a Sailor." "She is not a stripper!" "But she was...riiiight. Wink wink nudge nudge" "Just...be...quiet." "Fine.")
As I was saying KATY enters, she is a 22 year old Navy wife with no children.
("Bow-chicka-wow-wow" "SHUT-UP" "Sorry.")
She is a 22 year old Navy wife with no children and all her clothes on. The only pole she polishes is...er...nevermind.
She is an 18 year veteran of the Legitimate Theatre.
("Legitimate huh...what makes it so legitimate...strip clubs are well established businesses..." "I meant legitimate as in the stage, the boards, live theatre - " "You got the 'r' and the 'e' mixed up in theater there buddy." "WILL YOU GO AWAY!?")
She does stuff on stage.
She also writes for the stage.
("Oh...so that's why we're having this conversation." "No you're just bothering me...it is not a conversation." "Well we're talking to one another." "I'm just humoring you." "Well look who's all high and mighty just cause he got to do the introduction instead of me." "If you wanted to do it you could have said something." "Well no one asked." "Then do it." "I don't know her." "Oh for PETE'S SAKE.")
KATY enters, hook and sword in hand, she carts off Abbott and Costello ("Hey who are you calling a PRIEST?!") and holds them at sword point.
Folks we're gonna have to cut the intro short tonight due to technical difficulties (and these two bone-heads). In the meantime please enjoy this dancing bear.
Circus music begins as a pink bear in a brown tutu enters and begins to perform a complicate Irish clog while reciting nursery rhymes in Vietnamese.
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