clairnation

My People

2012-02-10T21:58:00.000-08:00

In college, my friends used to joke about how I was likely to disappear one day, having followed the tour bus or caravan or car with the dancing bear sticker, and been sucked into some big Grateful Dead extended family, never to be seen again.

Those friends may not have shared my taste in music, but they were always on the hunt for "my people," and would point out every Grateful Dead sticker or t-shirt we passed. I love those friends, but I'd always wished just one of them shared my musical tastes, because going to concerts with friends is so much more fun than going alone.

A few friends have tried over the years to understand some of the music I like, and we definitely meet in the middle sometimes. But there's really nothing worse than the friends who come to a show and end up having a really bad time. So mostly I went to shows alone.

And then I met a guy, and not only did we like many of the same bands, but we introduced each other to a bunch of new ones, and we went to a lot of awesome shows together. And we talked a lot about the role music would play in the rest of our lives.

And then we broke up, and I went back to going to concerts alone. Or not going at all. And while that relationship is long over - and its end was absolutely the right thing for me - I still miss that part of our relationship. A lot. Because nobody else I know has more than a passing interest in any of my favorite bands. And 20 years of going to shows mostly on my own is getting a little boring. And I have tickets to see three bands in the next few weeks, and my people can't seem to find me. Perhaps I need to start sending smoke signals.

Everything's a little better in the sunshine

2012-02-09T09:09:00.000-08:00

I know we need the rain. I know the winter industry is really struggling this year. I know this weird weather - nationwide - might be a sign of bad things to come.

But I can't lie. I am loving this weather.

And this winter is the perfect time for me to soak up a little sunshine. Because it's hard to be quite so bummed out when it's not wet and windy and grey.

The good, the bad, and the chlorinated

2012-02-08T17:16:00.000-08:00

Hello, remember me? I was all psyched about my gallery opening, and then I just kinda disappeared. The opening was awesome, and I'd like to thank everyone who stopped by. I sold my first photo last Friday. I'm still pretty stoked about that.

I'm also pretty excited about this weather. It's been spectacular lately. San Francisco doesn't see a lot of sunny, warm days in the middle of winter. But I'm so thankful we are this year. Just standing in the sunshine is amazing.

Sadly, I'm not doing much more than standing in the sunshine lately, as my knee is a little broken. One painful ART treatment later and walking isn't so bad, but I'm on some activity restrictions for the next few weeks, until my patellar tendon gives up on its quest to destroy my life. I'm pretty sad to be off my bike, and mostly off my feet. But I've returned to swimming with a vengeance. I forgot how much I like the smell of chlorine in the morning.

Pro Tip

2012-02-04T18:16:00.000-08:00

Dear underage college students on the bus,

I know you thought you were being covert, hiding your vodka in those big Snapple bottles. But we all knew what you were up to. And I'm supportive and all, because, really, is there another time in your lives it'll be completely appropriate to be drunk and disorderly on the bus at 10pm on Thursday? Probably not. So rock on while you've got the chance. But next time, maybe don't go out wearing sweatshirts emblazoned with your college logo. You're a lot more likely to get arrested for public consumption if you're advertising the fact that you're not yet 21. Your friend dressed like a trashy Marina 20-something? She kinda had the idea. Follow her lead.

Cheers,
Clair

Batter up!

2012-01-31T19:21:00.000-08:00

Pitchers and catchers report in about 18 days.* And this year, I'll get to join the preseason frenzy of Spring Training. I've wanted to go for years, and this year, all the stars finally aligned to allow me three games in the Arizona sunshine.

I am beyond excited.

*The countdown is for Kendra. You knew it was coming eventually, right?

Photos? What photos?

2012-01-29T20:10:00.000-08:00

I was on the phone with my brother tonight, and the following conversation ensued:

Me: "Hey, I should tell you some of my photos will be in an exhibit next month. The opening is Friday and I'm super excited about it."

Him: "Photos? What photos? When did you take photos? And where?"

Me: "Um, I take photos of everything. All the time and everywhere."

Yeah, we're tight, but maybe not too clued into each others' hobbies. And I guess he doesn't read this blog. This will be my third group show, and the opening is Friday night. I'm stoked, and I'd love it if you joined me for the opening night reception. The other artists are all phenomenal, and there'll be some live painting, as well as music and snacks and lots of other fun. The gallery's in the Mission, so there's lots to do in the neighborhood if you want to make a night of it. Email me for details.

Nine months

2012-01-28T08:49:00.000-08:00

I looked at the calendar on Thursday morning and was struck with the realization that my mom's been gone nine months. That seems especially significant since half my girlfriends are either pregnant or have recently had babies. Nine months can be a long time.

And it has been. In most ways, anyway. I've had two jobs in that time. Made four trips to the east coast. And spent a lot of time curled up on my bed, pondering the future. And doing a little bit of cursing the present. But I'm feeling a little better now. Just in the past two weeks, actually, I feel a little less burdened. And a little less depressed.

And I've had four good days in a row. The people at my job like me. The sun is shining. I'm going to see live music tonight for the first time in months. I've spent some good time with friends the past few days, and it's done a lot to lighten my mood.

I fully expect this is temporary, and I've been joking with friends that I'll probably be flattened by a bus on my commute next week, but right now, things are better.

Dusty

2012-01-19T16:16:00.000-08:00

This trail is usually almost impassable in the winter - it's too wet and muddy to get down (or back up) the hill that you can't quite see in this photo.

Right now, however, it's bone dry. Or at least it was earlier this week. We're finally getting some rain today. Despite my dislike of winter, I really like mud puddles. And I should have my pick of them soon. Yay.

The year of un-commitment. Sorta

2012-01-16T19:38:00.000-08:00

In setting my goals for the year, and thinking about some things I'd like to accomplish in 2012, I failed to take into account that I'll have to make several east coast trips between now and September. And the emotional and physical energy those trips will require is intense. And at some point this spring or summer I'll need to find a job that will accommodate my travel schedule.

And then I kind of panicked. And I kissed my training plan, and the hope of a summer half marathon, goodbye. I decided I'd hold off on making any commitments this year until the fall, when I'll hopefully be settled in a job and will no longer lead the jet-setting lifestyle required to do my part in selling my parents' house.

And then I got really angry about putting my life on hold for another year. And then I forked over a really hefty registration fee. I love this race, and though I've scoped out the really flat bike course as part of a relay team, I've never tackled it myself. I'll have a shiny new bike by June (well, by February if all goes as planned), and I'm ready for a new challenge. Or at least I'm hoping I don't come in last. Or fall off my bike.

Things that I enjoy

2012-01-12T17:25:00.000-08:00

I cannot tell a lie. Since I got home from vacation, I have been ridiculously depressed. I blame it on my mom, because nothing else makes sense. My trip was awesome. The weather in SF right now is spectacular. I love my job. I've been visiting with friends and trying to have fun. Life is pretty good. Except for the parts that really, really suck.

So while I sit here wallowing, let's look at some things that made me smile recently.

My last wave of the day. Dudes, surfing hurts. And I am not so good at it. In fact, I still have a couple of bruises. But it was awesome.

This beach is beautiful.

Sunset was amazing.

My lives just collided on the Internet

2012-01-09T14:51:00.000-08:00

Several months ago, I accepted a friend request from my friend's brother. I didn't think twice: I've gotten to know him over the past few years, he's friends with a good friend of mine, and he's the brother of a very dear friend. He doesn't live here, and I love looking at photos of his kids in the snow. He's also got great taste in music, and sometimes he posts awesome links.

Like this one, which he posted earlier this week, of Mavis Staples and Wilco in rehearsal together. It blew my mind. It's long, but it's worth the 4.5 minutes. Go ahead. I'll wait.

As I watched the video he posted, I thought about only guy I've ever dated who shared any of my tastes in music. That relationship was awesome because we almost always agreed on good bands. And we went to lots of concerts together. He loved Wilco, and was thrilled to share their music with me. This boyfriend's brother also loved Wilco, and the three of us often hung out at his house listening to CDs and drinking beer. It was good fun.

Do you see where this is going yet?

So it turns out my friend's brother and my ex-boyfriend's brother went to high school together. And they're Facebook friends. And after I commented on the Wilco video, so did he.

And then he got in touch with me to ask how I knew J., and to see how I was doing. And now we're all friends. The Internet is a very small world.

Blowhole

2012-01-05T15:08:00.000-08:00

Yes, I did stand for 10 minutes staring at a hole in some rocks by the ocean.

It was worth the wait.

Bearing gifts, we traverse afar

2012-01-03T21:34:00.000-08:00

I first saw this news on Facebook while I was on vacation. I was with friends at their house, and one of them was scrolling through all the Christmas messages in her feed when she came across this:

"I can't believe somebody stole the baby Jesus from the manger at church!"

Our church is in a sometimes-rough neighborhood, and we've had some security issues. The rent-a-cop we hire is clearly not so good at his job. We kind of laughed about it as we read through the responses. Maybe the baby had been taken for a walk. Maybe he'd return wearing a handmade sweater. Maybe somebody needed to put out an Amber Alert. Or wait for a ransom note.

And at the bottom of the list, this post:

"Really? Again?"

It turns out, this isn't the first time the Jesus figurine has been stolen from my church's manger scene. But the first time, it was returned. Wearing a carefully hand-knit cap. And sweater. In a pretty blue.

Yes, seriously.

The church is pretty big and kind of drafty. Most people show up in layers. Maybe somebody thought this inanimate object was cold. At least they were thoughtful enough to return it.

This time, the baby's been gone for a week, with no hint of its whereabouts. Perhaps the Three Kings will bring him back this weekend.

Tan lines

2012-01-02T19:47:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning shivering a little; resentful that I had to put on long pants and socks. And that I wasn't spending another day in my bathing suit. But my people weren't made for sun exposure, so I've taken my (very faint, but absolutely there) tan lines and my sunscreen bottles and my sun hat, and I've come home.

My vacation was awesome. But coming home has made me a little blue. My real life, though nothing to scoff at, really can't compare with 12 days of sun and surf and time with good friends. However, since my friends probably wouldn't house me permanently, and I really like my job, I'll go back to work in the morning. I need to earn some money while I plan my next adventure. I racked up a lot of miles on this trip. My 2012 travel is mostly centered around family stuff, but it looks like 2013 might require renewing my passport.

Last year, snowmageddon

2011-12-23T21:54:00.001-08:00

This is MUCH better.

Un-Christmas is coming!

2011-12-15T15:30:00.000-08:00

Looks like a decent venue to spend Christmas day, doesn't it?

C is for Cookie. And Chocolate. And Cranky.

2011-12-14T20:33:00.000-08:00

I seem to have been attacked by the stress monster this week, and she really, really likes cookies. And chocolate. And cake. Why isn't there any cake in my apartment?

Oh, right. There's no cake (or much real cooking happening) because there's been a leak in my kitchen for 16 days. The water's wet and dirty and smells really, really bad. And the property manger's inability to find and fix the source of the leak has made me crazy. Yesterday, thinking they fixed the dripping, a maintenance guy came into my apartment, moved some stuff around, and left. He didn't lock my door on the way out.

Now, if you've been reading around here for a few years, you know that I only live in this apartment because my previous landlord's work crew broke into my apartment and stole my stuff. And then somebody tried to burn down the building.

I don't fucking mess around when it comes to my safety and the safety of my stuff. And I am supremely pissed. And the anger is making me more than a little cranky. I can't have friends over, or really use my kitchen. I'm all stuffy from the mold and rotting wood caused by the leaking water. And I am beyond mad that any building manager or landlord thinks that going 16 days with dirty water leaking into my kitchen is at all ok.

Sorry for ranting. I feel a little better now. I reamed out the property manager over the phone today, reminding him that I only moved into this building because of the crime/theft/fire issues in my last one. The thing is, it was easy to leave that apartment. I wasn't too attached to it. But this place? I LOVE this place. And it's been my refuge during a really shitty year. I absolutely do not have the desire or the means or the wherewithal to move. But I'm not really sure I have any confidence in the management or maintenance staff right now. And without that, I'm not too sure if I can feel safe here anymore. And that makes me really, really sad.

Muni is not the drunk tank

2011-12-12T08:41:00.000-08:00

I got on the 22 bus at Pine St. It's not my favorite bus - it goes through some rough neighborhoods, and rides can be tense. But I needed to be in Potrero Hill last night, and the 22 is the only way to get there from my part of the city.

When I boarded, there were three college girls on the bus, two other people, the driver, and somebody who appeared to be the driver's friend. And one other guy. When I first looked at him, I thought he might be dead. Or really, really passed out. He was a big guy, maybe 200 lbs., and not a lot of muscle. He looked to be in his 50s, maybe. And he was surrounded by the stench of stale booze.

But he was passed out, so I figured he wasn't going to cause us any trouble. I sat far away and kept my eyes on the crowd.

A few blocks later, the driver called out to the guy that we'd reached his stop. Didn't he want to get off? He muttered something to the effect of "F*&k you," and went back to sleep, his head now propped up against the window.

The driver was not pleased. But the guy wasn't responsive to the driver's increasing insistence that he got off the bus. We traveled a few more blocks, and the guy woke up enough to dig his fifth of vodka out of his pocket and take a few sips.

While drinking and eating are prohibited on the bus, I have never, ever, in 10 years of riding public transit in this city, seen any driver try to enforce this law.

But this driver was on a mission. He yelled a warning to the passed out guy: put the bottle away or get arrested. Drinking is not permitted on this bus. The guy again muttered obscenities, fumbled the bottle before tucking it back in his pocket, and slumped down in his seat.

We made it Haight Street before there was enough room for the driver to stop the bus. He ordered us all to get off, and called the police.

We slowly got off the bus and huddled in the bus shelter, trying to stay dry. One guy from the neighborhood offered to help haul the drunk dude off the bus. He had his phone out and offered to call some friends to help. Then the good Samaritan took a look at him through the window and offered to sit with the bus driver until the cops came.

Sadly, the next bus came before the cops did, so we didn't get to watch them haul this guy off the bus. I'm pretty sure he'll be spending some time in a holding cell at the jail. I've never seen anybody arrested for public consumption or intoxication before. And earlier this week, I saw seven guys dressed as Santa drunk and passed out on another bus. I guess some bus drivers don't mind also serving as drunk tanks.

Cheese cake for everyone!

2011-12-08T05:21:00.001-08:00

It's hard to make cheese cake with a hand mixer, a tragedy I discovered several years ago while trying unsuccessfully to duplicate my mother's tremendous cheese cake recipe. It's by far my most favorite dessert, and she often made it when she knew I'd be home for awhile to enjoy it with her.

I ate the last slice of her final cheese cake after her funeral. I'd lucked out on the timing - if any luck was possible in that misery - since she'd baked a couple of cheese cakes for Easter, but ended up not sharing one with its intended recipients. She'd eaten about half of it in the few days between Easter and her death. I ate the rest.

And as I stood in the kitchen, sharing that last slice with a good friend, I wondered about the future of her recipe. I've got it, and I can recreate it pretty exactly, but I only have a hand mixer, and the cheese cake requires a standing mixer. I was supposed to get a standing mixer for my birthday one year, but the execution of that gift fell through.

I was supposed to inherit my grandma's stand mixer, but a family friend in need wound up with it instead.

I was supposed to get a stand mixer for my birthday on two more occasions, and that never worked out.

I could have demanded my mom's mixer, but it seems fair that my brother keep it. And I wasn't sure how I'd transport it across the country.

And besides, none of those mixers were in the color I wanted. But this one is.

And it was on super sale yesterday. And it should arrive on my doorstep in a week. And then I will make cheese cake for everyone. Or maybe just go on a cheese cake diet.

Hang on, I know they're around here somewhere

2011-12-06T17:33:00.001-08:00

I've spent the past seven months wandering somewhat aimlessly about my life. No goals, no big commitments, nothing to really develop a routine or set priorities around. And while that's not at all what I'd hoped for this year, it's worked. It's allowed me to be functional amid a shitstorm of rough stuff. It's allowed me to survive. And everyday that I'm not curled up in the fetal position hiding under my bed, keening, is a great day. Hurrah!

However, I'm getting a little bored with just existing. I'd been working on setting some goals and planning for the rest of 2011 when my mom died, and then everything screeched to a halt. I'd made considerable progress in the first few months of the year on some things that were pretty important to me. And then survival mode took over. Now that I'm very slightly less overwhelmed, I've been considering what I wanted to do earlier this year, and thinking of some things I might be able to tackle in 2012 - provided next year doesn't become a train wreck too.

I'm possibly in the position to buy a new bicycle. And since my much-loved, closing in on twenty-five-year old road bike lacks the gears necessary to get up the city's hills if I leave my neighborhood, I'm seriously considering a purchase in the next few months. Possibly in time to learn how to climb hills - without dismounting first - and register for the 50-mile ride of this lovely little bike tour.

If I do that, then I'd be in great shape for a Livestrong ride when it comes to Davis later in the year. I've wanted to do a Livestrong event since I completed my Grand Canyon hike with Team in Training in 2008. And I feel like it's time to raise some more money for cancer research. I can't think of anything better than to fund raise in memory of my dad at the end of what would have been his 75th year.

I'm also possibly in line to receive a free entry to an early-season half marathon. On my own, I'd probably register this week for the accompanying 5K, since it's a popular local race almost in my neighborhood. But if somebody else is kind enough to foot the bill, I feel honor bound to go all out. I haven't walked more than four miles since August, and I won't know if I've gotten the entry until Dec. 18. So I have some time to consider the wisdom of a really short training cycle that will most likely involve lots of time in the rain.

And I need to start thinking about making my career change thoughts a reality. I'm in a temporary job for at least a few more months, and a lot of the work I'm doing is in line with path I'd like to take. As for opportunities in the Bay Area, I'm not too sure yet. But I'm working on that a little.

Next year's going to bring a lot of change, and a tremendous amount of emotional baggage that I'm a little scared of. But it's also kind of nice to dust off some goals. Planning is much better than just surviving.

Last gasp

2011-12-01T19:47:00.000-08:00

Fall was in the midst of its last hurrah while I was in DC last week. I couldn't find much of it left, but what I found was lovely.

Perhaps I don't have a future as a smuggler

2011-11-30T18:41:00.001-08:00

It's no secret that I'm a big fan of a good beer. But moving west required giving up one of my favorites. A college friend grew up near the brewery, and turned us onto it sometime during our first year. Many of our nights out were lubricated by Yuengling. Tragically, it's not distributed west of Ohio.

I have a few friends who've also spent time on the East Coast, who are equally sad about Yuengling's small distribution region. In order to compensate for that, an East Coast friend traveled to San Francisco last year and brought us a six pack, neatly tucked in her suitcase between some sweatshirts and socks. But six beers didn't last very long.

A few months ago, I learned that a pizza place in North Beach served Yuengling by the bottle. Not believing this rumor, I checked the menu on their website. Those bottles sell for $8. Each. In places where this is plentiful, it's not an expensive beer. But $8 seemed like a good investment to me, and to a friend with some East Coast ties. We made a date for dinner. We were very excited.

And when we placed our order, the waitress informed us they had no Yuengling in stock. She wasn't sure when they might be serving it again, and the more questions we asked, the more vague her answers became. We figured they stocked their beer the same way my friend did - by using a runner - somebody who traveled east and returned with a six pack (or maybe a suitcase full) of Yuengling tucked between sweatshirts and hopefully-clean socks.

We were pretty crushed, but I tried to rally our spirits. I'd be traveling to Washington, DC, where Yuengling is in vast supply.

I would just bring home a few beers, wrapped in bubble wrap and plastic bags, and safely secured under my most bulky clothes.

This was a great idea. But it's execution failed miserably. There wasn't enough room in my suitcase, and I was a little concerned about ruining all my clothes if a bottle exploded in mid-air. So I left DC empty handed. And then the TSA searched my luggage. I'm guessing even if I'd made it to the airport with a few six packs in tow, they wouldn't have made it on the plane.

Monday musings

2011-11-28T14:36:00.001-08:00

As I walked around DC on Wednesday night - braving the cold and wind to visit a few monuments with my siblings - I was overwhelmed with memories. Memories of monument hopping on warm summer nights with my college roommates. Of visiting those same monuments with my parents on countless trips to the District when I was little. Of wanting more than anything to live there someday.

And then, in the days before I moved away, of walking around the Tidal Basin as the cherry blossoms bloomed, unsure if I was making the right decision to leave, but pretty sure I couldn't stay. I loved that city and my time there, but it was no longer the place for me.

Twelve years later, I know I made the right choice. But every time I visit, I'm a little sad that jobs weren't plentiful and my friends didn't stick around and my neighborhood was plagued with violence. That neighborhood is probably still violent. The friends who moved away are all over the country now. And I'm really - or at least mostly - happy with my life.

But you won't find this in San Francisco.

Or this.

Well, you won't be able to find this in DC for much longer either.

Or this

And definitely not this. Though I remain hopeful for someday.

I'll toe the line wearing pink arm warmers

2011-11-21T13:27:00.001-08:00

I rarely travel for Thanksgiving. It's hard to get time off and make it across the country - and back - in just a few days. But last year I completed the Thanksgiving surprise of the decade. And this year I'm packing up my Thanksgiving pants and going to meet my siblings at my sister's house. In Washington, DC. Where it's going to be cold.

I don't do well with the cold. This month's mid-50s cold snap in San Francisco has left me shivering under many layers and wool socks. I have no problem being a weather wimp, but I'm a little concerned about this trip. Because for the first time ever, I'll be racing a turkey trot on Thanksgiving morning. In weather that is much more suited to fireplaces and hot tea than early morning outdoor pursuits - which is why I left the east coast in the first place. I've been stalking weather.com all week. By Thursday it looks like the rain and mid-40s temperatures I've been sulking over will give way to sun and almost-warm-enough-for-racing weather.

This isn't so bad at all. In fact, that's about as warm as my trail walk this weekend.

This race might not be as scenic, but it'll be fun. Or at least I think it'll be fun. I've tried to convince my family to spectate, but they've surprisingly declined. I guess I'm not the only one who's a little uncertain about getting out of my warm bed early on a chilly Thanksgiving morning.

Six!

2011-11-17T10:03:00.001-08:00

My blog turned six yesterday. It's been a constant in my life in a time of incredible change. And I'm quite thankful for all of you who have stuck with me through some pretty rough stuff over the past six years. I posted this last year, on the occasion of its fifth birthday. It's all still true:

The year I graduated from high school, the girl who gave our graduation speech used her few minutes at the podium to - as many times as possible - list the names of her 16 very best friends and mention all the fun times they'd had over the four years (or eight, or in some cases 13) they'd been in school together.

As you might imagine, that didn't go over too well with the rest of us. And with a class of only about 110, there were a lot of us who felt left out that day.

I think about that a lot. Well, not that speech or that day so much, but in situations where I'm on the inside of something - a joke, or a group of friends, or whatever - how it looks to people on the outside. I've been thinking about that more than usual this week. On Tuesday, I went to a party; a celebration hosted by somebody I know through her blog. Somebody who I only met in person two weeks ago. It was a very personal celebration, and yet she invited many of the people who she's only known through her comments or Twitter. And she was equally gracious to us pseudo-strangers as she was to lifelong friends.

I met a bunch of really cool people at that party. I doubt our paths ever would have crossed if it hadn't been for our blogs. And some of us talked about that for awhile, and about how hard it is to explain to everyone on the outside of the blogosphere how it's totally safe to meet up with strangers you know from the Internet. Or to travel with them. Or accept their offers of a place to stay while you're on vacation. And how awesome it is when those strangers become actual, meet for lunch or a night out, real life friends.

The people and opportunities this little piece of the Internet has brought me are priceless. I just wanted to say thanks.

The little things

2011-11-16T07:07:00.001-08:00

My favorite band is on tour again, and I was so sad that their U.S. stops didn't include San Francisco. Their show here earlier this year was awesome, and I was about to start scheming to get east in March to see them in Maryland. And then I saw this in my Facebook feed this morning:

They're playing not one, but TWO shows in San Francisco in March. I did a little happy dance. Who's in? After my last adventure with this band, I definitely ~~need a keeper~~ want some friends to join me.

No end date

2011-11-09T18:01:00.000-08:00

"Did you know you can guarantee somebody's everlasting life if you enter their birthday into your calendar as a recurring event with no end date?" asked an acquaintance recently, after updating his calendar when he realized that he didn't have his mom's birthday in his calendar, and he'd missed it.

Clearly, I could have tried harder to keep my mom alive. I never put her birth date in my electronic calendar. I don't think I even wrote it into the paper one this year, since I'm unlikely to forget it.

Obviously, my new friend was joking. And I was briefly amused, after I was sad. I'm sad a lot these days. And feeling a little surrounded by people talking about their parents. Or their families. Or - God help me - their holiday plans. And I've lost count of the number of times I've told people not to be jealous of the Christmas trip I'm taking to Hawaii, because while I'm traveling bankrolled by my dead parents' life insurance policies, my friends will be spending time with their actual - living - parents. They win. In a big way.

I'd like to surround myself with other orphans so we can commiserate, but we seem to be in short supply these days, at least among the folks I know. So while I try to find the orphans club, my friends chatter un-thinkingly about their recent phone calls with their parents. And I remain silent. Waiting for the day this seemingly normal turn in a conversation doesn't hurt so damn much.

Whatever comes next

2011-11-07T08:36:00.000-08:00

After I left my job in August, my plan was to not work - or even look for a job - until the beginning of 2012. I planned to spend my time cleaning house - both literally and figuratively - handling some of my mom's estate issues and just, well, healing. And probably spending way more time than I wanted in NY.

But by the end of September I understood that my time wouldn't be well spent in my hometown right now, and the estate stuff, which had felt so big and overwhelming a few months ago, is a little more under control, and a lot less time consuming, than I'd envisioned. And what was I going to do with all this free time?

An opportunity arose to work part time, I took it, and it's been the most fun I've had at a job since 2005. I still get the time I need to myself, but when I'm working, I'm busy enough to be focused on the work, and to have some fun with it. I'm so thankful things worked out the way they did.

A few days ago, I was responsible for some tasks that required wearing this:

And I had more fun in those few hours than I've had in a very long time. I'm working on the resume re-write that includes "must wear viking helmet" in my career objectives.

Rain, rain go away

2011-11-03T16:53:00.000-07:00

Well, the sunsets were nice while they lasted.

Still underrated

2011-10-27T08:38:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned at least once before that I feel like the Bay Bridge gets short shrift in comparison to the prettier Golden Gate. But when the sun glints off of its steel beams at sunset, it's really quite lovely.

Searching for my attitude of gratitude

2011-10-23T20:30:00.000-07:00

A friend in recovery used to post semi-weekly gratitude lists to Facebook, as a public way of reminding herself of the things she was grateful for during a very, very difficult time in her life. I have yet to put any of my lists on paper, but grief counseling is a little like AA, and thinking about some of the things I'm grateful for sometimes helps me keep a bad mood at bay. I've had a really rough week, but in considering some of the highlights, it really wasn't as bad as it felt. Here's a little list:

The weather is fantastic right now, and my bike ride on Thursday included this view:

Two East Coast friends were in town for work this week, and I got to spend time with both of them.
I'm hearing a remarkable amount of Grateful Dead on the radio lately, and that always makes me smile.
In EXACTLY two months, I'll be on the beach in Waikiki.
Trader Joe's sells frozen cannolis. Did you know about this? They're almost as good as cannoli from North Beach, and (right now, at least) there's a box in my freezer.
I'm working part time for a few months, and I'm incredibly grateful for both the opportunity and the awesome soundtrack in my workplace.
My sister and brother often drive me crazy, but they're awesome people, and I am so thankful we're related. There's nobody I'd rather have on my team in this shit storm of the past few years.
The sun is shining. It'll go away soon, but I'm soaking up every minute while it's here.

Further (previous?) adventures in hair coloring

2011-10-20T20:09:00.000-07:00

When I lived in DC, the best place to buy hair color was a place called Commander Salamander in Georgetown. Sadly, it no longer exists. But, in the '90s they had a pretty extensive selection of Manic Panic dyes, and I availed myself of pretty colors. But I never stripped my hair, so it wasn't always easy to tell when my hair was, say, blue or green. But it was somewhat expected around St. Patrick's Day.

After last week's post about my hair color, only one person asked for photos from my college dyeing days. Despite a thorough search of all my photo albums, I have no good photos of my green hair. In fact, I have really no good multicolored hair photos at all.

But I do have this nice little shot, clearly taken by somebody other than myself.

Yes, there's some glare, but that right there is a big pink streak. You are welcome.

It's really nobody's business, right?

2011-10-18T12:21:00.000-07:00

After a few uncomfortable evenings earlier this month, I realized that I'm having a bad reaction to booze. My heart rate spikes, my heart pounds furiously for hours, and I just don't feel well for a few days. After just one drink. This happened after my mono debacle, and for months I was forced to drink near-beer while waiting for my system to return to normal. It's probably an anxiety issue. I'm not particularly worried about it, since it's happened before. I have no doubt I'll be back to pints of Guinness soon, but in the meantime, I'll just have a Coke, thanks.

I didn't think much of this as I went about my social obligations last week. I certainly didn't think a public proclamation of my sober state was necessary. And then, after drinking water while out with friends on Thursday, things got weird. Somebody brought me the biggest plastic to-go cup of white wine I've ever seen. After I declined a drink.

I left the full glass on the table and ignored. Somebody else eventually drank it. I got a call on Friday. Was there a reason I wasn't drinking? Was everything ok? Did I have anything I wanted to tell anyone?

Whoa. I felt like that question was looking for two answers, and good God no, I'm not pregnant. And I'm not in recovery. And, quite honestly, I don't see why anybody really cares. Because if I'm not drinking, then there's more for everyone else, right? But, since this seems to bother some people, and I'm not going to talk about the issues that might be causing this problem when I'm out in public - especially with people I'm not very close to - I've compiled a witty list of possible reasons I'm not drinking:

I lost my liver in a card game.

I woke up drugged in an ice-filled bathtub to learn I was the victim of an urban legend.

I donated my liver to my sister. She promises to give it back as soon as a better donor match comes through.

I'm converting to (insert abstaining religion here).

I'm banned from booze at this bar after a particularly ugly table dancing incident. But please, don't let me stop you from ordering that awesome beer.

I'm on dialysis

But I think I need some reasons with more shock value. If you've got any, please pass them on.

In my backyard

2011-10-13T19:54:00.000-07:00

My walk last night in the Presidio was astonishingly beautiful. This weather is always so stunning, because it comes on the heels of some pretty miserably cold fog.

Inspiration Point. I like being able to see across the Bay.

A little rest stop on the trail.

My new friends. I've never seen a flock of lawn flamingos in such a variety of colors.

Don't judge a box by it's color

2011-10-12T19:14:00.000-07:00

I think I mentioned a few months ago that I'd finally figured out my hair color. Yes, it's a first world problem, but silver hair does not go well with my complexion, and I'm on track to be fully gray before I'm 35, which is unacceptable.

If you're new around these parts, this is my natural hair color. I'd call it light to medium brown. The horrific overhead lighting doesn't do it justice.

Me as a redhead. Nice, no?

I was happy with the result, until I noticed that the red didn't hold up too well in the pool. I was getting brassy, and as the color would fade, the gray would emerge. This wasn't cool. Also, once the novelty wore off, I was a little confused when I caught myself in the mirror. It was time to go back to my roots (pun absolutely intended).

This process was so much easier in college, when my choices were Manic Panic blue or green. But matching your hair color - or desired color - to the shade on the box is not an exact science. And being somewhat poor in my unemployed state, I'm not about to fork over $100 to my stylist, no matter how much I love her. So I'm on my own.

I narrowed it down to a couple of browns in the medium light shade. I stood in the very narrow hair dye aisle at my neighborhood Walgreens for at least 10 minutes, debating, before I went with medium golden brown.

I followed the instructions, left the dye on the appropriate amount of time, and didn't permanently mar any of the white porcelain fixtures in my bathroom. And yet, I'd have to say medium golden brown, at least on my head, looks a little darker, and a lot less golden, than I'd expected.

Or a lot darker, even when I'm not wearing white and standing in my white-tiled bathroom. I'm rocking a kind of goth look right now. But I figure I've got a lock on Morticia Addams costumes in a few weeks, so I can mostly pass off my mistake as getting a head start on Halloween this year.

Mele Kalikimaka to me

2011-10-10T20:07:00.000-07:00

Sometime after the ink dried on my mom's death certificate, but before the shock wore off, my sister and I decided to flip Christmas the finger this year. It's been a hard holiday for a few years, given my dad's untimely departure five days before the celebration of the birth of Christ. And this year, I'm having a hard enough time with Halloween. I have neither the patience nor the requisite holiday cheer to make the Christmas season bearable.

We briefly considered some other travel destinations before agreeing that Hawaii was clearly the best place to be for un-Christmasing. We can sit on the beach in the sun, and the dreary winter weather, and preponderance of evergreens, and holiday commitments we'd force ourselves to smile through, will be thousands of miles away.

Brilliant, right?

We've just started compiling a list of things we want to do. I've got a few things hanging over my head from my last trip that I want to see or do on this one, so we'll be sure to not be drowning our sorrows in tropical drinks on Christmas day. In fact, Christmas falls on a Sunday this year. We could possibly be un-celebrating at one of my favorite places in Waikiki. But if it's not open, we're staying close by. We can visit every day. There will be ample time for sorrow drowning.

It almost seems wrong to be excited about this trip. But I am.

Oddly happy-making

2011-10-07T09:04:00.000-07:00

As a little girl, I used to gaze in admiration at some of my mother's valuables. They were mostly very fragile things that were off limits to little hands. But I could look, and I did. On days when my mother wasn't too frazzled, she might take apart her red Matroshka and we would pull out each of the little dolls nesting inside the big one.

When I traveled to Russia in 1999, I bought two Matroshkas at an outdoor market - one for my grandma, and a little one for myself. I never expected that those two dolls would be reunited in less than a decade. And pretty soon I'll add my mom's to my collection.

It's odd, knowing that the pretty things I admired as a kid are now, well, mine (and my sister's and brother's). It's a little weird to look at photos and other things that sat for so long in my parents' house, that are now very happy in their new home. My home.

My moving truck arrived from NY earlier this week, and with it came my 12 unscathed boxes of glassware and Pyrex, photos, my desk, and some other odds and ends. I cried a little as I washed baking pans and rearranged my apartment to accommodate my "new" furniture. But as much as I'm sad, having some things of my parents' in my house has made me really happy. Unexpectedly so. That feeling probably won't last long, but I'll run with it while I can. It's good motivation for redecorating a little as I make everything fit in my small space.

From the 11th Floor

2011-10-06T08:36:00.000-07:00

The Sports Medicine clinic might not be the best place to hang out, but the views are spectacular. And my foot doesn't hurt this week.

My city has two bridges

2011-10-02T13:22:00.000-07:00

I think it's fair to say that the Bay Bridge doesn't get nearly the attention of it's iconic counterpart in San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge. But for one Sunday each year. the Bridge to Bridge run puts the Bay Bridge in the same spotlight as its northern neighbor.

The race starts in the shadow of the Bay Bridge and winds 7K or 12K along the water, through Fisherman's Wharf, past Ghirardelli Square, up the hill to Ft. Mason, and along the Marina, ending at the parade grounds of the Presidio. The 12K loop turn around is under the base of the Golden Gate Bridge at Ft. Point, but I wasn't feeling up to that this morning.

The weather was spectacular; much better than anybody had forecast for this morning. And with a 9 am start, it was warm. Really warm. But the incredible weather this week prompted race organizers to add an additional water stop. I've raced at least three time in the past 18 months in unseasonably warm weather, and this is the first time race organizers have accommodated more water. I was thrilled. But since I raced the shorter distance, I wasn't too worried about hydration.

I love this race. It's close to home, the route is one of my favorites, and it's sponsored by a couple of local radio stations, so there are some fun bands at the finish line - along with free burgers and beer (though I took a pass - MGD at 10 am just didn't sound appetizing). I also like that it's mostly flat, and pretty fast. This year it was even PR worthy.

And that's got me thinking. Since my unofficial 5K PR in April, I've been hoping to get at least one more 5K race in this year. My foot is really bothering me again, but I'm taking some steps that will hopefully alleviate a lot of my discomfort. There are two local 5Ks in the next six weeks on pretty flat courses. And I like the idea of this race while I'm in DC over Thanksgiving. I'm just not sure if I should register now, or wait to see if my foot feels better. Yes, this is a first world problem, but it's a nice one to have.

Commuters

2011-09-29T18:28:00.000-07:00

I've walked past this scene thousands of times at my hometown train station, and all these bikes hung over the railing always make me smile.

Wherein I preach a little

2011-09-28T09:11:00.000-07:00

In hindsight, it's clear to me that my dad had prostate cancer symptoms at least six months before the crisis that led to his diagnosis. I saw some of those symptoms, but when I asked about them, he told me they were related to his blood pressure medication, and he commented that getting old - and the pills that were associated with it - were lousy.

My dad was the first man in his family to live past age 60. We don't know how all of his ancestors died, but at least a few of them had cancer. Dad lived to 72.5. And he treasured every one of those last 12.5 years, because he knew how lucky he was to have them. My mom's family, on the other hand, was full of longevity. My great-grandmother was in her late 90s when she died at the kitchen table, after sitting down and asking for a cup of tea. I have a great aunt in her mid-90s. My grandmother died days short of her 84th birthday.

And yet my mom died at 63, with no clear indication that she wasn't well until the moment of her death.

I spent the past week in NY taking care of some family stuff, and I spent a lot of my time there thinking hard about my family health history. I know about my grandfather's diabetes; my mom's pre-diabetic issues; the family history of cancer; the thyroid disease; and a newly emerging strain of high blood pressure shared by my parents and, I believe, my grandparents.

Anybody who knows me well already knows I'm a little fanatical about my health. I've always worked to stay healthy, and those efforts have increased since my mono bout. But over the past few months, my efforts have also been focused outward. Because I'd like my lifetime to exceed my parents. And I'd really like to have my family and friends along for the ride.

So if you feel an ache or a pain or just know that something isn't right, I'll be the one in your face about getting to the doctor. And if you tell me you don't have a doctor, I'm very happy to help you find one. Because now that I've experienced the very sudden loss of somebody I love, I don't ever want anybody else to have to go through that pain. Yes, getting a doctor's appointment and waiting on exam day are hassles, but trust me, they pale in comparison to wrapping up the estate of somebody who still had a long life ahead of her.

Sadly, the dolphins didn't pose for a photo

2011-09-22T13:38:00.000-07:00

I often walk along this part of the Bay, but I've only ever twice - in 10 years - seen dolphins frolicking in the water. There were two this time, swimming in tandem just far enough from shore to be visible to the eye, but not the camera.

They picked a fabulous day to give the tourists a show.

Summer!

2011-09-19T16:45:00.000-07:00

It takes awhile for summer to make it to these parts, but once it gets here, it's a miracle - all clear and sunny with warm little breezes. The whole city sparkles.

And the Golden Gate sheds its shroud of fog to give late season tourists - and those of us lucky enough to actually live here - some incredible photo opportunities.

A point of clarification

2011-09-18T13:04:00.000-07:00

Over the past several weeks, I've been (or at least felt) inundated by questions from people wanting to know if I'll be leaving San Francisco. Most of them ask if I'll be moving home.

This is a tricky question. San Francisco is my home. I've lived here for 10.5 years. I'm definitely not going ANYWHERE. That's the easy part to answer. But do I bother to mention that "home" as I know it - the blue house I grew up in, will not be mine for much longer? Do I point out that, with my parents gone, "home" doesn't really exist in NY anymore? Do I remind these inquisitive friends that I've never wanted to return to the miserable East Coast winters before, so why would I want to now?

Snowmageddon 2010

Eh, usually that takes too much effort and doesn't provide any decent return for me, so I just list my hometown's strengths in comparison to the East Coast's weaknesses. Mexican Food is high on the list, along with mild winters and my devotion to walking uphill. I'll cop to not liking 30 days of rain (or unending months of summer fog), but I never have to shovel rain, and I know the fog clears eventually.

Yes, my family is on the East Coast. And I miss my brother and sister, but we've all got to build our own lives, and my life is here. Most of my friends are here, and all of my professional network. I like that I often run into friends while walking through my neighborhood or downtown. I like that I'm growing some roots here.

I can see my favorite hiking trails from the hilltops in my neighborhood. I can be to the beach in less than half an hour. And when I get there, this is my view. Not so bad, right?

And it works for me. So yes, I'll travel, and I'll always be very proud of where I've come from. But I'm also really happy with where I am now. Especially when the sun shines.

A little bit of order in a sea of chaos

2011-09-12T13:01:00.000-07:00

Every facet of my life is feeling a little out of control right now. As part of working through that, I'm trying to stay organized. My house is clean, I'm trying to keep the laundry piles to a minimum, and I'm closet cleaning.

And also doing a little closet renovation. My closet is small by studio apartment standards. In all my previous studios, the closets have been huge walk-ins with space for (in most cases) a double bed. Most studios built in the 1920s (the decade all of my previous - and current - buildings have been built) included Murphy beds, with large closets to accommodate the bed and lots of storage.

My current closet isn't nearly that large, but it worked. Until the lower shelf - the one that doubled as the closet rod - fell down a few months ago, taking all my clothes with it. It turns out that shelf was never properly bolted into the studs. And that left me with one closet shelf, about 8.5 feet in the air. It was too high up for me to hang clothes without a small ladder.

The hangers kept getting stuck together and six things would fall when I reached for a shirt and I couldn't reach my pants and it was really driving me crazy. Yes, this is a first world problem, but I'm already pretty crazed about a bunch of other things. I couldn't really deal with my closet catastrophe. I investigated shelving units and researched closet rod installation and decided I could afford a few shelves and the manpower to install them. And then I left my job and decided I'd just have to live with my closet chaos.

And then I found a HUGE sale on closet shelving and installation. So I took everything out of my closet and waited for the closet installer to show up.

He was early, and the installation was easy. And he even patched up the holes from previous tenants' shelves.

Randomly, my closet has a window. The installation happened quite easily, and now I have access to that window, should my winter clothes ever get too hot during a heat wave.

I spent most of Saturday re-hanging everything and filling the shelves - all 6 of them. I've been able to clear out most of the things stored under my bed, as well as a few things in my tiny coat/linen closet. And I've made two trips to Goodwill and donated some items to a local animal shelter. I've felt like this was a silly thing to be so excited about, but my clothes are no longer in a pile on my dresser, or sitting - clean and folded - in the laundry bag because they're easier to access that way. It's like I'm a real adult.

A day in pictures

2011-09-08T18:13:00.000-07:00

I had some things to do around the city today, and while the Bay Area's rumored heatwave hasn't exactly sparked heat in San Francisco, the sun was shining and it was almost comfortable without a jacket today.

At the Hyde St. cable car turnaround, a small band was serenading tourists waiting for the cable car.

This is a wind direction indicator. Can you tell that each little propeller-thingie is pointing in a different direction? Yes, that's usually the case in this very windy city.

Ft. Mason is always a work in progress.

Serenity

2011-09-06T17:18:00.001-07:00

The whole point of hitting the pause button on my career for a few months has been to get stuff done, and I hit the ground running this morning. While I would have preferred that the IRS - my first call of the day - said "Oh, your mom's dead? Never mind. Sorry for your loss," they didn't. So after getting the process started of tracking down some information they need from my mom's 2009 tax return, I ran a bunch of errands. On the way home, a little burned out and with some time to kill before I had to return the car, I stopped for a photo op.

The sun so rarely shines over Lake Merced that I needed to stop for a few minutes to enjoy the view.

And then, since it was on my way home, I stopped by my favorite beachside cafe and took my cup of tea to the beach. I sat on the sand dunes and watched the waves for awhile. Beach time almost balanced out the IRS hassles.

Thinking time

2011-09-04T09:57:00.000-07:00

In the middle of my race last weekend, when I realized I was on track for a big PR, after the walkstars had surged ahead and before my friends from Team Tortuga caught up, I had some time to myself - or as much as you can be alone along a crowded race course. This was my first race of the year. My foot's still not completely healed, but it's much, much better. I just need to be careful. And I have been. I'm sticking to shorter distances and making my workouts about quality rather than quantity. And I'm cross training a lot.

The weather wasn't too pretty last Saturday, but the wind stayed calm and once we got started I didn't freeze. It was a nice day for a little walk. And it was terrific to be outside and upright. A PR was really just icing on the cake. I think about that a lot lately. My mom's been gone a little more than four months, and I have managed to stay mostly healthy. I haven't had a mono relapse, or gotten any other nasty and lingering stress-related illness. I am so incredibly thankful for this; probably even more than I'm thankful to be able to race again, though I think the two go hand in hand.

I've got a few more local races on my calendar this year, provided my foot stays in good shape. I'm mostly training on my own, and I'm really enjoying the quiet time to think on my feet. It's especially quiet in the fog.

I was out for a little over an hour yesterday. It was cold and wet and kind of muddy. It was my first walk on that trail in at least a year. I came home splattered with mud. It was terrific. I suppose some day I may take for granted a four mile walk at the beginning of my day. But that time hasn't come yet.

Breathing easier

2011-09-01T21:21:00.000-07:00

I've mostly cleaned out my desk, and I returned my office keys and ID this afternoon. Yesterday, my boss told me my writing, though great, really isn't suited for my current job. So yeah, I'm OK with walking out the door tomorrow, and not returning on Tuesday morning.

The sense of relief I feel is incredible. I have a list of things to do next week that should be overwhelming (because everything's a little overwhelming these days) but I'm not phased by it at all. It will all get done, and I don't have to get up early or go to bed late to do it.

I've never really left a job without a plan before. Even last year's funemployment had a solid plan. It's liberating. I can do anything, or at least I can figure out what I really want to do. I made good progress on that last year, and I'm looking forward to getting back to it. But I've got a few months worth of other things to do first. The job search starts in January. Hopefully 2012 will be an easier year.

And then somebody threw me a life preserver

2011-08-25T18:41:00.000-07:00

The Universe must not have had much to do last weekend. After writing this, and talking with friends about my options, and tossing around words like "leave of absence" and "resignation," I had the chance to talk with my group's vice president early Monday morning, at her request. We check in routinely, and when she stopped me to chat Monday, I knew I had a chance to ask some questions. To reiterate how much I'm struggling. And she agreed. She's heard from my boss and colleagues about my less-than-stellar performance lately, and she wanted to know what would make it better.

Synchronicity is awesome, isn't it?

We tossed around leave of absence scenarios and the possibility of the organization laying me off. We talked about how all leaves require a three month time limit, and don't provide any pay or benefits. We talked about cutting my job to part time, and how much more stressful that would make an already bad situation. We talked about changes she could make in her office, but how she has no control over my other office, and she didn't foresee any substantial change coming from that group. I agreed. She told me she thinks I'm very smart and exceptionally competent, which I very much appreciate as I feel pretty muddled and slow these days. She said repeatedly how sorry she is that circumstances converged in my life the way they did.

When we both talked our way around to my leaving permanently, I seized her offer to look into my permanent departure. And my options for leaving were the best of any other scenario. So I'm leaving the organization. With a departure agreement that very closely resembles a layoff. While I'm really sad this is the outcome, it's the absolutely best thing for me.

I'm exhausted and emotionally tapped out, and I can't meet the expectations of my job - which are exceptionally high under normal circumstances - and also deal with the rest of my life, which has a lot of added responsibility right now.

My departure became official today. I leave next Friday. And the weight I've been carrying on my shoulders for the past few months has just lessened considerably.

Struggling

2011-08-21T12:52:00.000-07:00

As hard as I try, there's not a rosy way to paint the last few weeks. They've been hard. Really, really hard. I'm trying to focus on the positive - the friends I've visited with, a few very small successes at work, new shoes, a few days of glorious sunshine, the race next week that I'm really excited about. But those positives don't balance out the hard as much as I'd like them to. In fact, I don't think I'm even breaking even. My trip to NY was hard. Cleaning out my mom's house was emotionally and physically brutal. And I came home really struggling.

My job is not going well. Whether that's a symptom of my bigger issues or just the construct of the job and my fit within the organization, I'm not sure. But I'm struggling. A lot. And I'm not really sure what to do about it.

And I'm sad about that, because I feel like I never really got a chance to make the job mine, or to at least figure out if it wasn't the right job for me. But I can't change those circumstances, so I'm trying to figure out how to work with them.

But like I said, things haven't all been bad. I've got a lot of people - professionals and friends - supporting me every step of the way, for which I'm extremely grateful. The professionals keep reinforcing that my current emotional turmoil is normal, and my friends make sure I'm getting out, and sometimes even having fun. But damn, I wish things were different right now. I'd like my old life back, please. I was really well suited to it, and really enjoying it. And I'm not having so much fun right now.

On staying healthy

2011-08-07T15:02:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I am, in no particular order: exhausted, bruised and battered, hung over, emotionally drained, and generally feeling gross. I feel like I've done nothing more than eat crappy food and drink a lot over the past few weeks, and I'm starting to feel the effects of my slide off the path of healthy living. And with a race on the horizon that I haven't been training for, and a generally busy month ahead, I need to get my act together.

I sat next to a guy on the plane on my way home from NY who said he eats really well for two months before traveling to NY. Having left stuffed full of pizza, cookies, deli sandwiches, chips, and soda, I understand his motivation. I feel disgusting, and I'm trying to transition back to my better eating habits without freaking out my carb- and sugar-craving system. The better-eating plan starts today, along with some training for the 10K I'm racing at the end of August. And I need to get some decent sleep.

August sounds like it shaping up to be a pretty boring month, but since I'm traveling back to NY over Labor Day weekend, and I generally get sick when I travel a lot, I need to get in gear now to stay healthy. I lost track of that a little in all the other things I've been focusing on lately, but if it took feeling lousy today to get me back on track, then I'm thankful for the reminder.

Life Lessons I could have lived without

2011-08-06T10:27:00.000-07:00

My siblings and I spent the past week cleaning out our house. We went through decades of memories and threw out two trucks worth of crap. And it was probably one of the hardest things I've ever done, right behind planning my mom's funeral Mass and saying goodbye to my dad a few days before he died.

I'm covered in bruises and scrapes, I'm stiff and sore, and I am beyond exhausted. This was an incredibly emotional week. But we got way more accomplished than I'd hoped we could, and - in a dark humor sort of way - we had some fun along the way.

If we're friends on Facebook, you might have seen my daily updates of the treasures - or complete crap - we found during the big purge. I've got some friends who are going through the same thing right now, who could relate to the enormity of this project. Only all those friends are at least a decade older than I am. They had parents well into their 40s or 50s or 60s. Both of my parents died before my 34th birthday. Am I feeling a little resentful right now? Definitely. But I also recognize I've gained some wisdom over the past few years that most of my peers lack. Here's a list, in no particular order, of the things I shouldn't have had to learn recently, but I'm sure I'm a better person for knowing them.

1. I plan an awesome funeral liturgy. Seriously. If you ever need a funeral planned, call me.

2. Dying without a will is a Really. Bad. Idea. So make sure your affairs are in legitimate legal order, just in case. And make sure your family members' affairs are also squared away. It may seem morbid, but it'll take the strain off of everybody left behind.

3. Stuff is hard to part with, but harder to store. Pare down every once in awhile. And just because you have the space for storage doesn't mean you have to fill that space.

4. When people die, friends will offer to cook for you. Always say yes (well, except to cabbage). You can freeze leftovers or give food away, but it's terrific knowing you'll have food available if you're hungry.

5. Even if you're not hungry, eat something every few hours. And drink a lot of water.

6. Everybody grieves differently. What may make you uncomfortable is totally the right thing for somebody else. Give people around you the space for what they need to do.

7. Photos are valuable. Take care of them, and for the love of Pete, label them. Otherwise those photos of my great-grand something become just pretty pictures of strangers.

8. One day at a time is not just a philosophy for people in recovery.

9. Grieving is a transformative process. You'll lose friends along the way, but the ones who stick it out are pretty spectacular people. I'm very blessed to have some amazing people in my life.

Trapped in travel hell

2011-07-30T14:08:00.000-07:00

My 10:45 am flight was delayed this morning. I got to the airport with little more than an hour to spare after an airport shuttle fiasco, only to learn that I might not leave SFO until 3 pm. After a small meltdown failed to make me feel better, and attempts to find another flight out before the end of the day failed, I resigned myself to a lost day spent sitting in the airport. And sitting. And sitting some more.

I spent several hours trying to find the positive. I could watch the sun sparkle over the hills. I could eat decent - though overpriced - pasta while I people watched. I have plenty of books to get me through the day.

But now my flight's pushed back again. I've been here for four hours, and nobody is really clear on the problem or its resolution. Mechanical issues in Austin? Weather delays somewhere? I don't really know, and I'm pretty sure I don't care right now. I've been up since 5:30 this morning and the children are loud and people are getting pushy and I'd just like to get on the plane, please. I have a lot to get done in the next week, and no more time to waste in the airport. And the airline just announced that another flight - going nowhere near my own - was just canceled due to a mechanical issue their mechanics can't fix. If I got on my bicycle now, how long do you think it would take to get to New York?

Birthdays can suckit, but sisters are special

2011-07-23T06:14:00.000-07:00

When my grandma died in 2008, her funeral was the day before my birthday, but we rallied for cakes and candles. It was surreal, but I'm really glad my family made the effort. It was my last birthday with both of my parents.

When my birthday rolled around this May - 4 days after we'd buried my mom, I wanted nothing to do with the celebrating. In fact, I'd kind of forgotten about my special day until I saw a note from my brother. He'd gone to work, but left some details for us in a note on the dining room table, with birthday greetings in capital letters at the bottom of the page. Any firsts after the death of a loved one are hard, but this birthday really sucked.

I talked a lot about this recently with my sister. It's her birthday today. It would also have been my dad's 75th birthday today. And maybe it seemed like ceasing the festivities was a good idea. Why, she asked, celebrate her birthday when the people responsible for it aren't around? Why go through the trouble of a party when hiding out for the weekend would be so much easier?

She has a point. I know the thought of celebrating anything right now makes my stomach turn. On the other hand, my dad was pretty quick to tell me - and maybe my sister and brother, too - that we shouldn't sit home in mourning after he died. That there was a lot of living left in our lives, and he wanted us to seize every moment.

And besides, dad really loved a good party. So my sister will be having one this weekend. It'll probably be the hardest party she'll ever have to throw. But I think it'll be worth the effort. Happy birthday, Steph!

The other half

2011-07-21T19:51:00.000-07:00

I'm a pretty dedicated city girl. No offense to the suburbs, but having grown up in the heart of American suburbia, I can pretty safely say I don't belong there. However, sometimes it's nice to visit.

I have friends stretched across San Francisco's suburbs, and recently took advantage of an offer to visit the Peninsula (the pretty, generally sunny towns south of San Francisco, for those of you not familiar with the Bay Area). The Peninsula has a rough rap as wealthy enclaves full of white-gloved women who lunch. But one of its best parts is often overlooked: some of its neighborhoods are on the water.

Right on the water, like my friend's house, with a little backyard, a little beach, and a boat dock, to which his boat, a kayak, and a canoe were tethered on the day we visited. We barbecued, then went for a little cruise around his neighborhood's lagoon.

You guys, people really live like this, with their deck ON THE LAGOON. They can go for a swim or paddle before breakfast. I'm very, very committed to my life in San Francisco, but a backyard beach could persuade me to one day move south. Maybe.

Liquid lunch

2011-07-20T20:31:00.000-07:00

No, not that kind, although it does occasionally have it's merits.

This kind is much better. I've been swimming twice a week on my lunch hour. I don't have time for more than about 25 minutes in the pool, but those precious minutes makes the rest of the day awesome. And the pool is rarely crowded. Most days, I don't even have to split a lane. I am a very happy swimmer.

Doing It Wrong

2011-07-16T05:57:00.000-07:00

I'm all about the honesty these days - in a blunt, yeah, that skirt looks atrocious on you kind of way. I always have been, but it's a little more, well, pronounced these days. So when a friend expressed sadness that I won't be joining her and some others for a weekend in Tahoe, I might have mentioned that my last trip with this crew - just about six months after my dad died - was horrible. And I couldn't foresee any circumstances that could make this trip any better this year. I don't want to hang out with anybody, I'd much rather be alone, and I really can't handle large-group social situations right now.

She took that pretty well, actually, and pointed out that perhaps I just need a weekend away, some time to blow off some steam and not have any real responsibilities for a few days.

Believe me, there's nothing more I'd like to do right now than go on a bender. A long, loud one. But, as I pointed out to my friend, when I did that after my dad died, no good came of it. I was just emotional and a little out of control with no good results. And I was never drunk enough to not remember any of my emotional outbursts. Like yelling at (and then crying all over) friends at a party. Or maybe several parties. And on some street corners. And, frankly, I think I've run out of free passes on being the drunk (or not) emotional girl who just lost a parent. I don't really see that my friends - or the strangers who've gotten caught in the crossfire - will give me another break.

My friend pointed out that I might be going about my benders wrong, if I can still remember them. And that most of our friends who have lost a parent have only lost one, not two within two and a half years, so if my friends didn't continue to be indulgent, perhaps I should get new friends.

My friends are awesome, odd logic and all, I'm just so, so tired of being that girl.

Not quite Oz

2011-07-14T09:25:00.000-07:00

I was in Seattle for work this week. It's nickname is the Emerald City. It was pretty, and a nice and surprisingly sunny change from foggy San Francisco.

I think I call this Irony

2011-07-07T20:58:00.001-07:00

Trepidation

2011-07-04T13:48:00.000-07:00

I try to never let fear stop me from doing something. It's usually a good motivator to tackle something I'm pondering not doing because I'm, well, afraid.

A couple of months ago, I learned that an acquaintance had a seizure while swimming laps at her gym. She's currently in a coma, and her odds aren't looking very good. I guess she had a seizure disorder, but medication was controlling it pretty well. And it sounds like, despite quick action on the part of pool lifeguards, she was underwater for awhile.

After I heard about her accident, I thought twice the next time I jumped into the pool. But that was it, just a small second thought - a few moments to think about my safety, and say a short prayer for this girl and her family. And I've been swimming a lot since then, and I don't think I've had another thought about my safety.

Two weeks ago, a friend was in a really bad bike accident - his second in less than three years. His physical injuries are bad, but he'll recover. His brain injuries are uncertain at this point, but his prognosis is not good. Yes, he was wearing a helmet.

Since I got home from New York, despite some fantastic weather, I haven't been out for a bike ride. I lack the ability to concentrate enough right now to safely navigate even the safest bike routes by my house. I'm pretty easily distracted, and I just don't think I'm safe on the road. This is a part of the grieving process, and it'll pass eventually.

But after learning about my friend, I spent a lot of time seriously considering the safety of biking, especially in a city with several recent bike-car accidents. But today I had no choice. I had to pick up my bike from the shop, and the only way to get home was to ride - at least part of the way. So I did. Slowly at first, and with some trepidation. I said a little prayer for my friend and his family, and I admired the view that was probably part of his last ride.

And it felt good. Well, it hurt a little, as two months off has turned my quads to jelly. But it felt like the right thing to be doing on a beautiful day.

If the shoe fits....

2011-07-03T10:35:00.000-07:00

I was dressed nicely but casually as I boarded the bus for a birthday party Friday night. The unseasonably summer weather in San Francisco has meant that I've dusted off my summer shoes. On Friday, I was wearing a pair of brown, strappy, open-toed heels. I love these shoes. I bought them at the Nordstrom outlet in 2000, just before I left DC for New Mexico. So they're old, but still really sturdy, despite lots of wear while I lived in warmer climes.

I got off the bus, and was two blocks from my destination - a bar near Union Square - when something felt odd on my left foot. Like perhaps there was a hole in my shoe, or my sole was peeling away. I was about to stop to check out the problem when the front third of my shoe flew off of my foot, and landed a few feet in front of me on the busy sidewalk. Right in front of a surf shop packed with tourists.

I picked up the front third of my shoe, and wedged it back onto my foot. I hobbled into the shop, and the very nice clerk asked me if he could offer any help. I explained my situation and told him I was in desperate need of flip flops. He happily pointed me to the sale rack, and I found a nice brown pair that matched my outfit and only cost $8. Not bad for an emergency purchase.

As he rang me up, I thanked the clerk for saving my day. He offered to throw away my shoes so I didn't have to lug them around all night. It was only then that I could fully survey the damage. The sole of my left shoe, which was perfectly in tact when I left my house, had split across the bottom of the shoe, taking the entire foot bed with it. I though briefly about trying to have it repaired, but then handed the pair to the clerk so he could trash them. I'm pretty sure repairs would have cost more than the shoes did. And I had a shopping trip planned for this weekend anyway. New shoes weren't on my list, but it can't hurt to browse.

Kissing-free zone

2011-07-01T09:40:00.000-07:00

I would never wish mono on anybody. My experience was so horrid that I would never, ever even joke about somebody else getting sick like that. Even when coworkers jokingly asked me to kiss them - thinking that several weeks in bed was better than being at work - I would scold them for their antics. It was awful.

And yet, when I ran into an acquaintance last night, and he hugged me (twice) and then mentioned that he was recovering from mono, my first thought was not compassion. My first thought was to find the fastest way out of the building and into the shower after I'd doused myself with antibacterial soap and possibly burned my clothes.

Hmmm. I may be a little obsessive about my health these days. That's ok. It's normal. But the dude hugged me twice - once to say hi, and once as I was leaving the gathering. And it wasn't until after the second hug that he mentioned his month-long mono plight. I know he's no longer contagious. He's definitely on the mend, and his wife never got sick. I'm thankful for all of those things. I'm really happy he wasn't sick for long, and he had people to take care of him through the worst of it. He's very lucky.

But I'm still a little grossed out at the thought of coming near him. I may start carrying around a little bottle of bleach, just to disinfect sometimes.

Any day on the water is a good day

2011-06-30T19:31:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, some friends hauled a ski boat up to Lake Berryessa for the day.

Somebody called the number on the side of these houseboats - they're crazy expensive, but wouldn't that be a fun vacation?

The water was cold. Almost too cold to play in. But goosebumps were worth it.

I can't wait to go back once the water (and weather!) is warmer.

I know I'm fakin' it, not really makin' it.....*

2011-06-26T21:05:00.000-07:00

I think my relationship with my dad existed on a much more philosophical level than my relationship with my mom. We'd talk history or politics or religion. My mom and I talked books and music and a whole host of random stuff. And we talked a lot.

And I think I've only just started to feel her absence this week, especially in the early evening, when I would talk to her while eating dinner. But yesterday, her absence was powerful in a whole different way.

I walked into Walgreens to pick up a few items, and the song playing over the store's speaker system was one of her favorites. We didn't listen to a whole lot of typical children's music growing up, and when mom was driving, the radio was tuned to New York's oldies' station. As a result, I've got some pretty awesome taste in music. And I also have many strong memories of my mom tied to music - from the Peter, Paul, and Mary concert my parents took us to when I was in fifth grade, to the summer mom and I saw Bob Dylan and Paul Simon play Madison Square Garden together, to the band who sang Bob Dylan at her funeral - local guys whose bar gigs we frequented.

Which is how I came to be standing in Walgreens yesterday, crying over Peter, Paul, and Mary on the sound system.

But, there were things to do and friends to celebrate. So I grabbed some tissues, paid for my purchases, and left the store, hoping nobody saw me tear up over allergy medicine and Noxzema. I got to my destination - a friend's surprise birthday party - and chatted with a friend. He told me I seemed to be doing very well with everything.

But the truth is, I'm a complete faker. There's a saying in grief counseling (which I think comes out of 12-step programs), about faking it 'till you make it. Clearly, I'm doing a good job with the faking. But I'm also wearing waterproof mascara.

*Yeah, that's Simon and Garfunkel. The song's about something completely different, but the sentiment's the same.

Gunsmoke

2011-06-19T16:19:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to stay occupied lately to keep my mind off of my current life catastrophe. And I also have cool friends, so when they invite me to do things, I try to go.

Which is how I found myself in a gun shop in San Bruno yesterday afternoon, forking over a surprising amount of money to learn how to shoot a .22. But my friend decided her 40th birthday just wouldn't be complete without a manicure and a shooting lesson, so there we were. Six women and one lone guy, all with fresh manicures, displaying IDs and signing waivers that indicated we knew handling guns was, well, risky.

I've never taken target practice before. In fact, aside from water guns and the day I picked up my brother's boxed pellet gun and moved it out of my way, I've never handled a gun before at all. It was good they gave us a half hour safety lesson and demonstration before letting us loose in the range.

You can't see the target in this photo, but I'm a surprisingly good shot, given that I can't even draw in a straight line. Most of my shots hit close to the center of the target. Please note my nicely manicured thumbs. My eggplant-colored polish held up really well during all of the gun handling. Please also note my new hair color. It's taken three months to make it look nice, and the lighting in the range, though pretty bad, definitely shows off the red. Kind of like Annie Oakley.

My friend forever

2011-06-15T19:29:00.000-07:00

If you've been party to this blog for awhile, you had a little insight into my mom through her comments. She was sometimes snide, occasionally funny, and she rarely made any sense. Living with her was pretty much the same. She wasn't, especially in the past few years, one to beat around the bush. She was going to tell you what she thought, and though her delivery often lacked, well, a gentle touch, you never wondered where you stood.

Several years ago, I moved in with a roommate, a friend from grad school who needed - as I did - to save some rent money. While we were unpacking the kitchen, I stuck a few magnets on our fridge. Both were from my mom. One said "Mirror, mirror on the wall, I'm like my mother after all." Funny, right? I laugh at it a lot, because it's both funny and, some days, kind of true, too.

The other, on a white, flowered, ceramic magnet very much unlike my usual style, proclaimed "My daughter since birth. My friend forever."

My roommate looked at my refrigerator decor, and loudly proclaimed that her mom was corny like that too, and often sent her stupid gifts.

Her mom may have been joking, but my mom was not. I know this mostly because she really hated going to the post office, so she'd never have sent something she wasn't serious about.

I've got a whole collection of magnets from my mom. She really appreciated refrigerator art, and my blue, flower shaped magnetic bottle opener and "milk sucks, got margaritas?" magnet from Margaritaville are also her doing. I'm also in possession of a pretty impressive collection of shot glasses. All the ones depicting Ben Franklin - usually with some of his ruminations on beer - are also from my mom. She was, as people spent a lot of time telling me, a really funny lady.

Sometimes, a picture really is worth a thousand words

2011-06-02T18:27:00.000-07:00

Or at least more words than I can summon lately.

I saw this fake lei floating in a puddle near the race course a few days after Bay to Breakers. It's a pretty accurate depiction of how I'm feeling these days. It's a good thing I can swim.

The Mind-Body Connection

2011-05-26T19:53:00.000-07:00

My stomach hurts. It's hard to eat if I'm alone, but much, much easier when I'm around friends. So I'm eating out a lot these days, and I'm so thankful to the friends who have lined up lunch and dinner dates the past two weeks. I've lost five pounds, but I'm pretty determined to stop that trend now.

I saw the chiropractor today, and everything was out of alignment. And nothing wanted to move back in. Given the stress of the last month, I am unsurprised this is the case. I'm also not at all astonished that my stomach hurts. My body is absorbing the brunt of what my mind can't really process yet. And it's only going to get worse before it gets any better.

But on the bright side (because, really, there has to be one somewhere, right?) when I talked to my doctor earlier this week, she commended me for being functional. Am I struggling? Yes. But I'm not despondent. I'm getting up every day, and going about most of my life. Just slowly, and with a few less snacks and a lot less smiles.

And on the glaringly bright, must-wear-sunglasses-to-see side, I do not have mono. I have made it through the first month of this awful experience and I am not debilitatingly sick. I don't feel great, but I'm healthy. And I'm working so very hard to stay that way.

The silence around here is deafening

2011-05-25T20:42:00.000-07:00

But while I might not have anything to say, my sister has a list.

Read it and laugh, or something.

Sometimes, you deserve a prize just for showing up to life

2011-05-15T14:03:00.000-07:00

And really, this is one of those times. But, since nobody is handing out medals for burying my mom the week of my birthday (and three years, almost to the day, since her mother died), I had to find another way to get my medal.

So I walked for it. From the Bay to the beach. And while I was walking, I thought a lot about the past two years' races. About having to meet friends at the halfway mark in 2009, because I wasn't well enough to complete the whole 12K. About running portions of last year's race with the same friends, and pointing out the great strides I'd made in that year in regaining my health and my fitness.

I'm not so sure what the next year will bring, but I do know that I'm so much stronger, and so much healthier, than I was when my dad died. And if the next year brings the hardest challenge I've ever faced, I'm already several strides ahead of where I was last time.

Unfinished

2011-05-07T07:19:00.000-07:00

I hate unfinished business. And we're surrounded by it right now. My mom had just gone shopping, and yesterday I returned a bag of new clothes, tags still on them. They were interview clothes, and clothes purchased in preparation for the new job she thought she'd get. She was right. I talked to the person who wanted to hire her last week. They were so excited to bring her on board.

But we went to her funeral on the day of her job interview.

This is beyond anything I could have ever imagined. And I'm guessing the worst is yet to come.

Widows and orphans

2011-04-28T07:35:00.000-07:00

Writing this down makes it so much more real than I'd like it to be. My mom died on Tuesday evening. It was sudden, it was quick, and we are heartbroken.

I'm not really sure what else to say. I certainly didn't expect to bury both my parents and my grandma in less than three years, but clearly God had a different plan. Hug your family. Tell your friends you love them, and don't ever take a moment for granted.

Team Highlighter walks again

2011-04-24T11:17:00.000-07:00

In anticipation of getting my ass kicked at Bay to Breakers in (gulp) three weeks, I decided it was time to hit the road this morning. Though I haven't lost any speed, this nine month hiatus has left me starting mostly from scratch. Today, I walked some short intervals. In the rain. It was kind of awesome. And, if my Garmin wasn't completely wrong, it was also pretty fast. So I'm happy. Cold and wet, but happy.

And since I'm gearing up for Bay to Breakers, I walked this morning in my Team Highlighter racing outfit.

Turns out, in the rain and the fog, everybody else is dressed like this too. Except for that woman in the bunny ears.

If I had a smart phone....

2011-04-22T08:13:00.000-07:00

I could track the bus departure times, so that I would arrive at the bus stop before the bus does, rather than watch it pull away while waiting for the light to change on the other side of the street, four days in a row.

I could check the weather before I leave my house, instead of getting stuck in a rain storm while walking to work.

I could check email and maybe blog on my lunch hour, instead of missing all my Internet friends in my days-long seclusion from the social aspects of the Web.

I would most likely not have 600 Facebook posts waiting for me when I finally turned on my computer last night.

I could possibly carry on a conversation from my apartment, instead of dropping every. single. call. I try to make from my house.

I think I could take better photos on days I can't carry around my camera.

Well, maybe not so much that last point. It's possible that the camera on my lousy not-a-smart-phone is its best feature.

Zero to 5K in record time

2011-04-17T13:58:00.000-07:00

I met a friend for brunch yesterday, and as we were enjoying fabulous food, she mentioned that a local 5K fundraiser was happening this morning. She was thinking of going, provided public transit could get her across the Bay before the race started. We talked about some other ways of getting there, and I thought the race sounded like fun. I committed. We figured out driving logistics, and she registered us at Sports Basement.

I haven't even considered pinning on a bib and appearing at a starting line. I registered for Bay to Breakers with the idea of strolling my way across the city. My foot is mostly healed, and I've worked hard to get stronger, but I've got a lot of work to do to get back into race shape. Or at least I thought I did.

It was a small race on a flat course along Lake Merritt, and we started out conservatively. We chatted through the first mile, but realized when my Garmin beeped that we could put out a little more effort. And we finished the second mile a minute faster. And the third mile a little faster than the second.

By the third mile, I was trying to keep up with my faster-than-myself friend, while trying to fend off the friend on my heels. Together, they pushed and pulled me to a pretty serious 5K PR. A PR faster than any of the times I estimated I would have been capable of last year, had my foot not gone on strike. A PR that maybe could have been faster, except that I slowed to talk to friends (and strangers) along the course.

I am stoked. And my foot seems pretty happy. And the race was completely unofficial, so I'll have to duplicate this effort again after I've got some real training under my feet. Hopefully, that will be sooner rather than later. I just need to convince my foot of that.

Transition

2011-04-14T18:59:00.000-07:00

I'm not gonna lie: at around 3 pm yesterday, I really, really missed my ability to nap at will in the middle of the afternoon. And I'm pretty sure my new office would frown on me setting up camp under my desk and settling in for some shut eye. Though my desk is pretty big, and I could maybe sneak far enough under it that nobody would notice my blankets.

But, nap woes aside, things have gone pretty well the past few days. Everyone I've met so far is very nice and welcoming. My on-foot commute is 20 minutes, and on the bus less than 10. I think I'm going to like my team, and the work is going to be challenging, but not ridiculous. Yes, I'm overwhelmed by all the newness, but I know that will fade quickly. I'm relieved that a lot of the work I'm doing right now is similar to what I've done before, so while the details have changed, the basic framework has stayed the same. That's helped me to be productive this week, and to only stare blankly at the computer screen for a little while each day.

All in all it's good. A little exhausting right now, but good.

Ready

2011-04-11T16:58:00.000-07:00

The clothes are ironed. I've decided what I want to wear on my first day of work. The fridge is stocked, and my sister's awesome chili recipe is simmering in my crock pot. I'm nervous about all the usual first day things: will my colleagues like me? Will I like them? Will I get lost in the building again like I did last week?

For the most part, though, I'm ready. I already know where my desk is. I can already find the bathroom and the kitchen, and I know where to go for a mid-afternoon caffeine fix. And I'm so excited to get back to work. I felt a small wave of sadness today when I realized that, by no longer working downtown, I'll miss lunch dates with a couple of really good friends. I'll also miss some of the Financial District's best lunch spots. But lunch dates can easily become happy hour. And I'm sure there are some terrific hidden lunch spots new my new office. And I'm assured there are good places to eat in the cafeteria.

I also got a little blue this morning as I enjoyed the quiet of an almost deserted gym. But I can get up earlier or fight the after work crowds again like I used to. And I can take some lunchtime classes at the gym on campus. I think faculty and staff yoga will be particularly fun.

I'm trying to keep my expectations low for the first few weeks, because I know everything will be chaos. Transition is hard, no matter how long I've waited for it, or how much I want it. But I'm ready to go.

The final stretch of my job search marathon

2011-04-06T19:34:00.000-07:00

After nine months and four days of unemployment, I signed an offer letter today. I've got a job!

And after a week of emotional turmoil - from being turned down to being reconsidered to getting a verbal offer at the end of the final interview yesterday morning - I am ready to get started. I met some colleagues and got a brief office tour today. I like my desk. I've got a window that opens (!!) and a pretty view. And my plants will do well in the sun.

I've signed a bunch of papers and met several people whose names I probably won't remember come Tuesday, but that's OK. I know I won't feel like the new girl for too long. And I'm sure I won't get lost in the building after the first week or two.

Funemployment ends on Tuesday, and I have a bunch of adventures to finish up while I've got the time. But first, I need a nap. The past two days have been exhausting. But awesome.

Yeah, I know, my life doesn't really suck

2011-03-31T16:22:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday I was rejected from not one, but two jobs. The two jobs I was really excited about. The ones at organizations I really wanted to work for. The only two of about 10 in the past few months that I've made it beyond the first interview.

To say I was disappointed was an understatement. I was inconsolable. This week has definitely been the absolutely lowest point of my search. I'm really not happy to have to start - again - from scratch.

Thankfully, the sun was shining on Tuesday, and my big sunglasses covered my teary eyes. I wanted this job so badly. And I would have been the perfect fit for their office. And they agreed, but felt I was overqualified and that the job wasn't nearly a good enough fit for my capabilities.

Out of pretty much nowhere, after hearing this news, my friends stepped in, somewhat intentionally and somewhat coincidentally. I had plans for Tuesday. Free tickets to a baseball game yesterday. And a hike with a friend this morning.

View from Montara Mountain


Waterfalls - one of the only good parts of the rainy season.

Possibly a very important blue butterfly.

It's kind of hard to be unhappy standing in the sunshine several hundred feet above the Pacific. Yeah, I'm bummed about the jobs, and about the possible poison oak I picked up this morning, but my life doesn't really suck.

I have fallen for another.....

2011-03-26T10:50:00.000-07:00

I saw my favorite band at a local club last night. They haven't been in town in years, and the last time they were here, I was too sick to see their show.

They were AWESOME! And next time you should all come with me.

I will admit to spending a few minutes before the opening act ruminating about how none of my friends really share my tastes in music, and how it makes going to concerts a little lonely. But last night, I wasn't so much lonely as in need of a keeper. Five songs into the set, my ex-boyfriend's best friend showed up. I usually see him and his wife at these shows, but last night, his wife was elsewhere. So he came with my ex.

I saw them before they saw me, and went to offer greetings. I hadn't seen the ex in about five years, and we were all sorts of friendly and civilized. And then they went off to watch the band by the bar, and I stayed on the dance floor, where, five songs before the end of the set, I ran into this guy, from the worst first date I've ever been on.

Obviously, I needn't have worried about being lonely at this show.

The band wrapped up around 11:30 and I was finishing my beer when the ex's friends invited me out with them. I checked with the ex to make sure he was cool with that idea, and we piled into a cab for the rainy ride across town. Somehow over a few beers and a great bar band and a lot of chatting, it became last call. And the lights in the bar went on. And then we trudged across the street for pizza.

By the time I got home it was 3 am and I was drenched and drunk, and more than a little confused about my evening. As I waited for a cab, the friend mentioned that my ex is engaged. I'm still not sure if he was serious.

Splash

2011-03-24T10:06:00.000-07:00

Anaheim, CA, March 2011

This fountain makes little sense to me - it seems to run constantly in a part of CA that's in an almost constant state of drought. Yet I'd rather watch this water than the near constant stream of rain from the sky this week.

Abatement

2011-03-23T15:53:00.000-07:00

The weather these last few weeks has been wet. Very wet, but not uncharacteristic for this part of the country at this time of year. Winters in Northern CA usually get so bad that even the ants scurry inside seeking shelter.

I'm serious. It's well known in this city that winter brings ant infestations. I've had at least one in every building I've lived in. They're gross, but as soon as you can figure out where they're coming from, they're easy to kill, and they rarely come back. At least for me, but maybe I've just been lucky. I also vigilantly spray a couple of times a year, including at the beginning and in the middle of the rainy season.

Shortly after moving into my current home, I battled for a few weeks with the ants. They were coming in from two points - an electrical outlet in the kitchen, and an old cable hookup in my room. It took awhile to find their entry points, but I've since been so lucky to keep them at bay, that about six months ago I decided to move my couch to in front of the wall they used as their primary point of entry. I sprayed a shit ton of (natural and nontoxic) bug spray along that part of the wall, and settled into my new furniture arrangement.

Fast forward to this weekend: I was chatting with a friend who came home from a few days away to find an ant infestation in her kitchen. Our conversation about her ants, combined with the serious rain of the past several days, led me to move my couch to check for ants.

Thankfully, there are no ants making their way into my apartment. And for this I am grateful. However I'm not entirely in the clear.

Welcome to my mold infestation. Thankfully, there was something between the couch and the wall, so my couch was spared, but this is disgusting. It's also a pretty serious health hazard - and probably the reason my allergies have been so bad lately. I've bleached the wall clean, but that doesn't really fix the problem. I'm waiting to hear from my property manager about the arrival of the mold abatement team. They'll probably tear out this part of the wall, do some things to make sure moisture won't seep in again, and then replace the wall. I might actually prefer the ants.

Whirlwind

2011-03-22T10:54:00.000-07:00

Perhaps my plan to leave for a weekend conference directly from a job interview wasn't the best plan I've ever hatched, but it was the only one that made sense. My flight to Southern CA left around noon. I couldn't reschedule it. The panel I interviewed in front of on Thursday morning was only available on Thursday. I had to make it all work.

So I packed carefully on Wednesday night, carried my small rolling suitcase to the interview, and scheduled a wonderful friend to drive me to the airport. And tried not to freak out. The interview went well. And I considered myself lucky to be interviewing on St. Patrick's Day. I'm pretty sure St. Patrick (and my dad) watched over me in the conference room on Thursday morning. I made it to the airport with time for lunch before my flight departed. I got to LA in time to enjoy dinner with friends also attending this conference.

But kicking off three days of conferencing with an important interview was stressful. And conferencing, though tons of fun, is hard. And learning that they're checking my references (totally a good sign, right?) during the conference made me ecstatic. And maybe a little wiped out.

I'm home now, unpacking and organizing all my conference materials and hoping to hear about next interview steps SOON. And napping. And waiting. Again. It's good I'm catching up on sleep right now, because the waiting is exhausting.

Circa 2007?

2011-03-17T13:12:00.000-07:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Brian, Steph, and me at the Blackthorn Tavern celebrating St. Patrick's Day a few years ago. I believe this photo was taken before we decided we needed to eat ice cream with our Guinness.

Guinness makes you strong. And also, it's good for you. Have fun out there, but please celebrate responsibly.

Visualization and expensive hair care products

2011-03-16T19:42:00.000-07:00

I've been applying for jobs at a local school on and off for the past six years. It's a place I'd really like to work. I've applied to at least five jobs there, and I've never even gotten a form letter telling me they've gone with another candidate.

So I was thrilled when somebody from this school called me two weeks ago to set up an interview for a really cool opportunity. And I've been over the moon since they called me back for a second interview. It's tomorrow morning. With four or five people. I'm excited and a little freaked out. But mostly, I'm stoked. St. Patrick's Day is one of the best days of my year. And green is one of my best my colors, and I'll be wearing it tomorrow.

I'll leave the campus after the interview and haul myself to the airport for a conference this weekend. The combination of travel prep and interview prep has made for a very stressful few days. Coincidentally, I'd scheduled a haircut for this afternoon. It was beyond time. I've had a series of pretty bad Medusa moments recently, and I was a little concerned my mane might strangle me in my sleep. I love the woman who's been cutting my hair the last few years. She's just a terrific person and visits to her salon are always tons of fun. We chatted about my job search as she more than trimmed but less than scalped. Before she turned on the blow dryer, she checked to make sure she could test out some new products. She's not selling them yet, but wanted to test drive them on some clients. She mentioned that they were pretty high end. I asked if they would make me smarter or otherwise help with my interview. She glanced at the bottle and assured me this product would make me by the far the best candidate tomorrow. And then she promised to visualize me heading to that campus every day for work, with my shiny new haircut.

So, bring it on. I'm ready, and my hair smells like ginger snaps.

Upstairs Downstairs

2011-03-14T09:01:00.000-07:00

Dear upstairs neighbor:

It's recently come to my attention that perhaps you work un-traditional hours. I think the final clues to this were the few times recently we've run into each other picking up packages from the mailman. I was in gym clothes. You were in pajamas that were just on the wrong side of not quite appropriate for greeting neighbors. Or gathering mail. But I'm sure the mailman appreciated your lacy, low-cut pajama top at 1pm.

But long before our awkward mid-morning encounters, I've been a little concerned about your late night comings and goings. Despite your status as my upstairs neighbor, I'm sure you don't realize that your bedroom is directly above my own. You're probably unaware that I can hear your high heeled boots clomping across your floor as you arrive home between 2 and 4 am. The echoing of your heels against my ceiling is actually quite impressive, and it's guaranteed to wake me with a start from even the deepest sleep.

And I have to ask, what is that noise? Are you rolling kegs across the floor? Rearranging furniture? Dragging dead bodies through your apartment? Turning tricks? Most likely you're unfolding a couch or a Murphy bed, and holy cow is it loud. And all your middle of the night activity, as I may have mentioned before, is happening right over my bed. In the middle of the night. This isn't doing a lot to make us happy neighbors.

We've talked about your noise issue before, and I appreciate that you think you're trying to keep the racket to a minimum. But the fact is, if your across the hall neighbors have had to talk to you about the noise, and my across the hall neighbors have had to talk to you about the noise, and somebody at the opposite end of the building is also concerned about the noise, you're clearly not doing a very good job of keeping reasonably quiet.

So, how do we proceed from here? Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm listening to the radio much louder in the morning than I usually do. And my morning music selection is definitely drifting to angrier, louder bands. And yes, I'll continue with tambourine practice early in the day. And I'm thinking about assembling a really bad band, and hosting practices in my apartment at 7 am. On Saturdays.

xoxo,
Clair

Safe and sound

2011-03-11T14:34:00.000-08:00

I no longer live at the beach, but for years I lived about three quarters of a mile from the Pacific. And for 18 months, I lived across the street from it. It was beautiful, but each time the earth quaked - usually while I was asleep, waking me up with the rattle of my belongings and the swaying of my bed - I pondered my choice to live on sand dunes.

Ocean Beach, taken earlier this year. I was not out watching the beach today. That didn't seem wise.

When I moved out of that neighborhood four years ago, I moved to a neighborhood four miles from the water and on the top of a hill. On bedrock, so I'm pretty secure during earthquakes.

But when I lived in the Sunset? Yeah, I lived within the city's predicted devastation zone.

Looking East on Lawton St. from Ocean Beach.

In fact, I lived on the same street as the church at the top of this photo. In the event of a big tsunami, my best choice for evacuation was on foot. I learned during a 2005 tsunami warning that the traffic out of the beach neighborhoods backs up enough to prevent getting out of the neighborhood, so I would have been better off running or biking my way up the hill.

I'm counting my blessings and evaluating my emergency kit today. And praying for everybody who wasn't as lucky as we in San Francisco were, because a few ripples and a storm surge are nothing in comparison to the big waves.

On a hill

2011-03-10T08:56:00.000-08:00

I went for a walk over the weekend to scope out the office I interviewed in on Tuesday. I needed to make sure I knew where it was, because I wasn't familiar with the building, or really, that part of the city, even though it's close to my home.

Such a pretty building. It's on a hill, and the views are lovely.

Looking towards the spires of St. Ignatius and Sutro Tower.

I liked this little sitting area. If you look to the right you can see almost to the ocean, and the views to the left include most of downtown.

Half a dozen

2011-03-07T19:27:00.000-08:00

By lunchtime tomorrow, I will have completed my sixth job interview in the last three weeks. For the fifth different job.

Yeah, even Count Dracula isn't sure what to make of that. Five, count them, FIVE, different organizations are interested enough in me to go through at least the initial interview process. This is an embarrassment of riches. I don't think any of my former colleagues have had this many organizations come calling at the same time. I am unbelievably excited, and counting my blessings on both fingers and toes right now. I've been waiting nine months for my time to come, and now that it's here, it's more opportunity than I ever would have imagined.

But I am not a patient person, and the waiting is killing me. Well, that may be extreme, but all the suspense is definitely making me a little crazy. I'm trying to respect the process, and to know it will lead to the right job - and maybe even some choices - but I am beyond ready for it to be done. It's stressful, and today it's made me weepy and irritable. But, in comparison to a few months ago, when my phone stayed dreadfully silent, this is an awesome place to be.

So tomorrow, I will put on my interview clothes and scale a San Francisco hill so high it's actually called a mountain, and hope I don't arrive to the interview windblown and rain soaked. Because this job is close to the top of my list of places I'd like to work, and I'm pretty sure drenched and dripping won't make a good first impression.

Turbocharged

2011-03-06T18:06:00.000-08:00

In grad school, I went through a few years where I was always sick. I wasn't just getting the cold that seemed to take up residence in our classrooms all semester. Instead, I'd get the flu twice a year and at least two bouts of bronchitis with weeks of hacking coughs. And a few ear infections if I was really lucky. It was awful.

I was eating as well as I could, exercising routinely, and working hard to take good care of myself, but I just couldn't stay healthy. In retrospect, I definitely wasn't getting enough sleep, and all the hours I spent in the dusty, poorly-ventilated library and classrooms definitely didn't contribute to good health.

I was on the recovery swing from one of these miserable illnesses and talking to my grandma on the phone one day when she asked if I was taking vitamins. A few days later, I got a card in the mail with $25 to be used to buy better vitamins, since mine obviously weren't helping me stay healthy.

That $25 donation to my better health spurred a lot of research and a years-long adoration of one very specific brand of vitamin. They worked very well for me, and definitely gave me the boost my regular diet needed. About two years ago, the company discontinued this brand. And then changed the formula of their entire line of vitamins to include something that made me horrifically nauseous every time I took one.

It took me a few weeks - and several aborted attempts at taking the bus all the way to work - before I figured out the problem. And it took me even longer to find new vitamins I was happy with. But after a few attempts, I stumbled upon these as I was doing some research a couple of months ago.

They're expensive (and grandma is sadly unavailable to help me out) so I started with the very smallest bottle. I figured if I didn't like them or didn't react well to them I wasn't out too much money. Holy cow, the difference I feel is unbelievable. I know I'm Vitamin D deficient in the winter, and probably also a little anemic thanks to some after effects of the mono. But after a few days, I felt like I could move mountains. Or at least like I'd be able to survive the dark winter in a much better mood. And since I've survived almost to spring feeling much better than I usually do, I'm calling them a huge success!

My backup guy

2011-03-04T19:15:00.000-08:00

I have two chiropractors. I've never given this a second thought until this week, when I pulled something in my back and couldn't really move my head. I called the chiro in my old neighborhood - the one whose practice is part spa and part meditation center. Her office manager plays chimes in the office, and soothing harp music and lightly-scented candles fill the exam rooms. I've seen her on and off for the past 10 years, and I never need more than one treatment to ease any pain.

I saw her on Wednesday, but left in about as much pain as I showed up with. And she was leaving town for a few days, so I couldn't see her again until next week.

Did I mention I really couldn't move my head? Yeah, I wasn't too keen on waiting a week for full range of motion in my neck. And I hurt. A lot.

I was pondering my unfortunate situation while snuggled up with my heating pad yesterday, when I realized that the guy who's been performing A.R.T. miracles on my foot the past six months is also, duh, a chiropractor. And, judging by the progress my foot is making, a pretty darn good one.

Thankfully he was able to see me this afternoon. He pushed, and prodded, and popped a rib back into place. It hurt, but I left feeling 95 percent better than when I walked in, and armed with exercises to strengthen some back muscles and instructions for how to fix this myself should it happen again. And I can turn my head again, too. Happy Friday!

Bears in the ballpark

2011-03-03T19:49:00.000-08:00

The Cal football program hosted an event at AT&T Park last weekend to welcome UC Berkeley's season ticket holders (and tag along fans like myself) to talk about this season and the football team's use of AT&T Park while Memorial Stadium is under construction. The mascot came with the team. Oski wanted to check out his temporary new digs.

And, like any smart mascot, he wanted his turn at the bases.

I'm hoping for joint promotions with Lou Seal, the mascot for the San Francisco Giants.

A chip on my shoulder and a crick in my neck

2011-03-02T16:52:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine got a new job last week. About four weeks after she announced her intention to leave her current one. She had a few dinner meetings, talked to a couple of people, and BAM - new job lined up after she takes a nice vacation.

I know she hesitated telling me about this. She asks about my search each time we talk. She knows I'm working really hard and getting a little frustrated. When she finally did tell me, I think I reacted well, but honestly, it hurt. I feel like I have to work twice as hard as everyone around me right now, and I'm getting half the results. It's discouraging, even though I don't have much to be discouraged about lately, because I'm making lots of progress. I've had five interviews in the past two weeks (that's up one from the end of last week). And that's awesome. And this process isn't supposed to be easy. But I feel like it's been effortless for everyone else. Meanwhile, I feel like I'm trudging uphill through mud along an icy trail and sliding several feet backwards for every step forward.

It's not that I mind the struggle. I'm happy to work hard for something I want. But the single-minded focus this search necessitates is getting old. I fear burning out if the process lasts much longer.

To avoid that burnout, I took the day off from searching on Monday - a job search rest day, if you will. I slept in, ran some errands, and went to the gym Weights and some core work were on the schedule, and the workout went really well. Except for this muscle in my back that seemed a little tight. But I was careful, and it felt fine.

And I worked a little harder than usual to make sure my back was stretched and rolled and nice and loose before I finished my workout. Perhaps I worked too hard, because I've tweaked that muscle, and I think pinched a nerve too. And it hurts. Today's appointment with the chiropractor was helpful, but I usually walk out healed after one treatment, and I didn't this time. But I can move my neck in all its normal directions now, which is especially nice because I'm going to a networking event tomorrow night. I can hide my search frustrations, but I've found that looking unusual is not conducive to landing a job.

Ladies of the Evening

2011-03-01T08:52:00.000-08:00

I left friends downtown on Saturday night and got on the bus I ride all the time. Somewhere between the Financial District and Chinatown, a somewhat suspicious-looking guy got on through the back door. I was sitting in the last row facing the front of the bus. He sat in a seat facing the back of the bus.

I was talking on my cell phone and carefully watching him, because he looked like he might be drunk and a little crazy, and people with that profile have a tendency to freak out on public transit. So I watched, and I talked, and I studied possible exit strategies from a far corner seat at the rear of the bus. And I was watching somebody else on the bus when this guy got up and sat right next to me. So close that he was almost sitting on my lap. I was in a corner seat, and couldn't easily get up. There were two free seats next to the one he took, so I assumed this was a deliberate choice on his part. He cut off my only exit route, and I felt a little uneasy about my new seatmate.

I thought he was looking for an easy grope, so I hung up the phone and planned my quick exit from the bus. He was out of his mind enough that I could have caused some serious injury before he made a serious grab for me. And then I realized he was no longer looking me, but at the guy on the phone sitting at the other end of our row of seats. And then I realized he wanted a phone, and not some jollies.

I got off the bus anyway and waited at a brightly-lit, well-trafficked stop. When I got to that bus stop, I noticed a couple staring at the bus shelter from a safe distance. I looked too, expecting to see somebody living in the shelter. Instead I saw a very made up girl in a serious party outfit - really short black skirt, little sweater over a tight top, and lots of makeup. I figured she was taking the bus to a club, though I couldn't figure out where in the Richmond she might be going. She also didn't really look party-chic, but rather a little haggard.

And then I saw her wave to her friend. The friend was wearing even less clothes, and it was quite clear she had nothing on under her very short, sheer white skirt. It also became quite clear that these ladies weren't waiting at the bus stop. They were WORKING the bus stop. One would stretch out a leg and raise her skirt to passing cars, and they had a bunch of interested gentlemen do a few loops around the block to get a better look.

It was 8:30 on Saturday night. I mused to Twitter that neither myself or the others at this bus stop were well enough dressed to assist the ladies with their work. I was concerned they'd get mad that we were driving away business.

They must have had the same concern, because a few minutes later, they moved to the other side of the street to sell their wares. They were much more visible under the street light than they had been in the bus shelter. The bus came at about the same time they relocated, so I didn't get to see a successful transaction.

Gratituious Bridge photo

2011-02-24T18:56:00.000-08:00

Taken from Crissy Field, Feb. 2011

It's cold and raining and we might even get snow! at sea level! this weekend. You may recall that I'm not really a fan of the snow, but I feel better remembering that it felt like summer was just a few weeks ago, and the rain always ends eventually.

Overload

2011-02-23T19:05:00.000-08:00

I've had four interviews for three different jobs in the last seven days. Boy, when it rains, it pours. Before this week, I hadn't had an interview since mid-December - and it was awful - the absolutely worst interview I've ever had. Prior to that, my last interview was in October.

And now four in a week - and they ranged from decent to really good. I'm feeling pretty confident that something is going to happen soon. But mostly tonight, I'm just feeling a little shell shocked. I have spent a ton of time studying websites, researching organizations, and trolling the internet to find any potential red flags for these potential employers. And I'm tired. I'm thrilled with my good fortune, but interviewing is exhausting. I hope it's over soon.

Seven-letter word

2011-02-22T16:50:00.000-08:00

As I sat squished next to several friends in a church pew on Saturday, I had a lot of time to think. We waited for the bride to arrive. And waited. And waited some more. And somewhere amid the waiting and shivering (because the church was COLD) and chatting, I overheard the murmurings of the old lady behind me. She wasn't dressed in wedding attire, and she seemed to be pissed about being there. And then the groom's sister approached her with a corsage, and the lady got angry about wearing it. They argued in somewhat-hushed voices, and I heard the sister whisper "Grandma, just wear it!" as she stomped away, leaving her uncle to help his mom pin the corsage to her shirt.

Later in the weekend, I was making lunch when my brother called me. He needed to know the lyrics to this song. He could only remember one phrase, but I could immediately fill in the blanks. We have a history of doing that in my family - calling one another to ask questions along the lines of "what are the lyrics to this song?" or "how do you spell this word?" or "do you remember this family event?" I'm the history expert, and also pretty adept at music lyrics, though my sister's also a rockstar in this regard.

My grandma was a champion of these phone calls. She loved the daily crossword puzzles, and she knew she could rely on each member of my family for help. She called my dad for clues relating to religion. My sister had her specialties, and, in addition to history (because my MA should be useful for something, right?) I was her go-to person for anything having to do, however remotely, with San Francisco.

That day, the phone rang and she told me somewhat hastily that she needed a seven-letter word for "hippie haven." Commune was the obvious (at least to me) answer, and grandma was thrilled. We chatted for a little longer before she expressed concern about the cost of the phone call and said goodbye. She never really understood the concept of free cell minutes.

I saw a lot of my grandma in that cranky old lady sitting behind me on Saturday. And also a lot of her in the conversation with my brother. And I felt her absence more than I have in a long time, but I think she'd be pleased that we're carrying on the telephone tradition. Though I sang to my brother. I don't think I ever had the opportunity to sing to grandma.

Last year at this time

2011-02-21T10:28:00.000-08:00

I was chatting with a friend this weekend about our job searches. She's been out of work around the same amount of time I have, and she took some time to travel. If there's one thing I wish I could have done with my funemployment, it's travel. But it was just too much of a financial risk.

As I was talking to this friend, I mentioned that I got to travel last year, so I was pretty content to spend the past several months playing tourist close to home. And then I got an email from the organizers of the Great Aloha Run. And then I read this. And I realized that I was away this weekend last year, preparing to race in Honolulu.

Rainbow over the U of H campus.

And then I really thought hard about 2010. I spent two weeks in Hawaii with some awesome people, on my first real vacation in several years. I was only able to travel thanks to the CA state employee mandatory furlough days.

Yeah, it wasn't such a bad way to spend mandatory, unpaid time off.

Sunset from Waikiki.

I went back to work after that trip ready to tackle whatever ugliness lay ahead. And I did a respectable job of remaining professional in the face of some pretty atrocious actions. And then I got laid off. And I've been able to spend the past seven months playing tourist in San Francisco. 2011 holds promise, but I fear 2010 will be hard to top.

Skyline

2011-02-17T10:54:00.000-08:00

San Francisco skyline from The Warming Hut, February, 2011.

It's raining buckets again, but summer was fun while it lasted.