Packing tape

I've packed all the boxes - with thanks to the friends who helped out along the way.

The paint is dry in my new apartment, and painting crown moulding was about as painful as I'd expected.

The movers come in just a few hours.

This is all a little overwhelming. But if everything goes well, I'm headed to a little party in the East Bay this afternoon. And if it doesn't go well, will somebody please send for my mom?

Slowly reclaiming my party crown

While I can't quite complain about not having much fun lately, I can say that my ability to seek out a good time has been pretty significantly limited by my inability to stay up late. Or to go out after work during the week. I've been kind of bored lately. And I miss having fun.

On Saturday, I had a pretty ambitious schedule - I needed to do a day's work packing, run some errands, and head to a party. And possibly two parties. And do a small bit of performing. In fact, you could almost say I had a gig on Saturday.

A friend from my choir invited us all to join his band on stage for a few numbers at his birthday party. The bar that hosted this event was across the street from the karaoke bar where other friends were celebrating birthdays. And some of us were meeting for dinner first. I was pretty sure I couldn't do it all.

But I got all dressed up, met friends for dinner (at Dino's - decent pizza and free meat balls, possibly because they screwed up our order when we asked for a veggie pizza with sausage and no mushrooms), and went to the first party. We sang, we danced, and, at 11 pm, when the band was done, we headed out for karaoke.

More dancing and singing and fun ensued, until 2 am. TWO O'CLOCK. IN THE MORNING. I was out until almost closing time. I vaguely recall the day in November that I last shut down a bar. That was a long time ago.

I slept in on Sunday, and woke up to some sore dancing muscles, but otherwise I felt pretty good. I did some things in both apartments, packed and hauled a few boxes, and went to bed early. I was tired, but I wasn't wiped out. I think this party girl is slowly reclaiming her crown. And this morning, I got the following email from my friend:

"At the party, my friends and coworkers commented that the choir sounded great singing Lean On Me and that you had a lot of energy! Mel did a great job playing guitar with the band."

"And Clair, Steph, Sherry, Jenney and Mel rocked out singing Margaritaville. Fabulous as Clair would say. My guy friends were impressed (and wanted some phone numbers)."

This nightlife thing is fun. I'm looking forward to getting back to it!

This old lady eats pizza

I have inherited the parts of a cranky old lady. I'm 32, and yet I have the aches and pains of an 80 year old. My feet are in bad shape, my back hurts, and for the past few days my knees have been really sore.

In short, I'm kind of falling apart.

Now, the feet problems are in the process of being fixed. My back always gets tight when I'm stressed, and a massage the other day really helped. Though I think all the packing is going to really do me in, but I'll deal with that next week. I think I'll be OK if I stick to my workout schedule and stretch a little more than usual. And there's a yoga class or two in my not-too-distant future. As soon as I can find the beginner ones. Or the senior's classes.

The story behind my knees is kind of funny: last year, when I was getting a little more serious about swimming, a friend who used to swim competitively cautioned me against the breast stroke. It can be hard on the knees. I immediately saw a correlation between some knee pain and the breast stroke, and I stopped. And then a few weeks ago I started again, having forgotten my friend's advice. And earlier this week my knees really, really hurt.

I tried to weed out possible culprits: weights? The stationery bike? My shoes? My stride? Nothing made sense. And then on Thursday the conversation with my friend popped into my memory. I stopped breast stroking and my knees are very happy again.

In the middle of my body disintegrating, and perhaps from all the moving stress, I found myself craving pizza this week. A lot. I usually avoid pizza in San Francisco because it will never, ever measure up to my favorite pizza from New York, and I'd rather spare myself the disappointment. But this week I went for it. Twice. It still wasn't very good, but after two slices for lunch on Wednesday my workout was awesome. Maybe I need to rethink my pizza ban.

Photo Thursday on Friday

More fun from my night at football camp. The Cal Athletic Director is very nice.

Kindling for the Bonfire

With moving comes some serious cleaning: sorting through all my belongings, packing, and getting rid of a bunch of stuff I no longer use or need. In the past two weeks, I've donated several bags of books, clothes I no longer wear, and a bunch of other stuff. On Saturday, the furniture donation truck will pick up a few items I'm excited to see go to happier homes.

And then there's the other stuff: the things I'd really love to burn simply for purposes of catharsis. We're having great weather in the city, and a beach bonfire would be possible, but I'm running out of time. So instead of burning some things, I'm donating them or throwing them away. Here's a partial list:

The desk that has fingerprint dust stains on it from the crime scene investigation - I'm donating it, but I'd love to watch all my anger about the robbery waft away on the smoke from the particleboard.

About two dozen photos of my ex-boyfriend and his dog - I found them deep in the bottom of a storage bin, and I threw them away. But it would have been really satisfying to set them on fire.

Books given to me by my grandma that I never wanted to read - I donated them, but they would have burned well. I didn't want those books to begin with, and her expectation that I would read them anyway was both frustrating and overwhelming.

More photos, this time of a friend I'm no longer in touch with. Why she gave me a bunch of photos of her and her family members I'm not sure.

A dresser damaged by a roommate's candle in college - the drawers don't close properly, some of the runners are broken, and the drawers have never held all my clothes. It'll be donated or, if the nonprofit won't take it, it'll be left on the street, where it will surely be picked up by somebody who can see its potential.

There are some other things that I feel have kind of weighed me down the past few years that will be leaving my apartment in the next week. It feels pretty good.

Football Camp

Just before the start of football season, the University of California, Berkeley football program holds an evening football camp for women. We learned plays, toured Memorial Stadium, and had a blast. And at the end of the night, after most people had left, the field was completely empty. It was awe-inspiring. Memorial Stadium has its problems, but it's a beautiful field.

And then I wake up, startled to find that I'm not in the Ocean

I'm less than two months from the Mermaid, and earlier this week I had my first race dream. I was swimming and struggling and was the last person out of the water. And I wasn't wearing a wetsuit. In the dream, I thought I was going to drown. And I woke up concerned about having taken on this race. Will I be well enough prepared? Can my body handle two thirds of a triathlon? Will my relay partner DNF on the bike? If we don't finish, do we still get the swag? And can we stay for the afterparty?

I emailed my partner on Monday morning, asking her if registering for the newbie triathlon clinic might help. She thought it would and assured me that I will probably not drown. And she even offered me an out. She said we could bag the race if I thought I couldn't make it through the swim.

I haven't been swimming much, though I am getting back into my routine. I'm not really in super shape. I'm carrying around seven extra pounds, and they do slow me down a little. Maybe she has a point. I thought about all the other reasons I could, just seven months post-mono, take her up on her offer to back out.

And I told her absolutely not. I'm a strong swimmer - even if I haven't been swimming in the Ocean in about a decade. I'll learn how to get into a wetsuit. I probably won't become hypothermic only swimming a quarter mile. And I'm stubborn. I've paid my registration fees and I'm ready to race. Kinda. Or at least I will be by Sept. 27. Probably.

This will be fun. What better way to do a triathlon than by splitting up the race? I'll swim, my friend will bike, and then we'll walk together. And really, she has to ride 11 miles up the Hill of Doom. My whole little quarter-mile swim and 2.5 mile walk is definitely the better end of the deal.

I have no goal to finish fast. I definitely won't be at the front of the pack. But we will finish this race.

And did I mention there'll be beer waiting for us at the finish line?

City Living

I round the corner two blocks from my house and see the cops - four officers, one car, and one very angry resident of the local housing project. I see the cops enter the complex and drag him out. He is visibly resisting arrest, squirming to get away while loudly hurling obscenities.

Unsure about further police activity on the block, and concerned for my safety as I walk past this melee (what if he escapes from the cops and takes me hostage?) I call my sister so we can talk as I walk up the block. I explain the scenario and why I'm calling. I figure if I am taken hostage, somebody in my family should know about it.

"Why are you calling me? Why aren't you taking pictures?" she asks.

This is a legitimate question. I've left my camera at home and cannot get photos off my phone due to some sort of software glitch. We are both a little disappointed.