I made it to England safely and it felt like I had never left.
First things first. Sunday roast.
Clara, her boyfriend Tom, and flatmate Adam were happy to oblige and so we went for a meal shortly after my arrival.
I fell asleep early that night with a full tummy and plans to meet Sofia the next day. I woke up and have realized how awful and discomforting it is to wake up and no concept of the time. I got up, got ready and turned on the news and saw it was 6:45 a.m.
Four hours later I met Sofia and we visited a Movieum (movie + museum) walked along the south bank of the Thames and ate delicious crepes.
Returning to Clara's I got a little lost but eventually found my way back.
We left that night for Pisa and arrived early the next day. The tower was amazing and I, of course, took the obligatory pushing-the-tower photo. We then hit the beach, splashed in the warm ocean, worked on our tan then came back and joined others at the hostel for a meter and a half of pizza.
Today we headed to Florence and there are so many details I'd like to share, but they will have to wait for my return, when I have more time and a few less glasses of wine.
Ciao!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Travel buddies
In just a few short days I'll be boarding a plane off to see an old friend and make a new one.
By friend, I mean England (old friend) and Italy (new friend).
Two years ago when I came home from a year spent living in the U.K., I told myself I'd return in 2009, but I wasn't sure how to make that happen. But as fate would have it, it's happened and the plane is booked and plans are made.
But then as the thoughts of England were twirling in my head, Italy whispered in my ear. It took no convincing to get my friend Clara to agree to holiday in the boot-shaped country.
So things came together better than I thought they would and I put it out of my mind so I wouldn't explode with excitement.
But then June came, then July and now it is only a few days away. I think about other things, but then it pops back into my head and I get as giddy as a school girl.
Yipeeee!!
I'm really going to make an effort to update my blog and post my pictures while traveling, but if not, I hope to have some great stories to share upon my return.
Ciao!
By friend, I mean England (old friend) and Italy (new friend).
Two years ago when I came home from a year spent living in the U.K., I told myself I'd return in 2009, but I wasn't sure how to make that happen. But as fate would have it, it's happened and the plane is booked and plans are made.
But then as the thoughts of England were twirling in my head, Italy whispered in my ear. It took no convincing to get my friend Clara to agree to holiday in the boot-shaped country.
So things came together better than I thought they would and I put it out of my mind so I wouldn't explode with excitement.
But then June came, then July and now it is only a few days away. I think about other things, but then it pops back into my head and I get as giddy as a school girl.
Yipeeee!!
I'm really going to make an effort to update my blog and post my pictures while traveling, but if not, I hope to have some great stories to share upon my return.
Ciao!
Whooosh! There goes July!
I haven't written in ages, but honestly it hasn't felt like that because July has been a blur.
Never has such a period of time flown by so fast and filled with so many ups and downs, but thankfully, will be ending a heck of a lot better than it began!
July began in with my dad in the hospital. The events leading up to his quadruple bypass were a miracle in that they discovered he needed it before anything serious happened, i.e. heart attack or death. While it was emotional, exhausting and terrifying, I can joyously say it was a success and he's home, getting healthy.
I went from being off of work (while Dad was in the hospital) to being at work all the time. This is much of the reason that the month disappeared before I could grasp it. Thanks to a myriad of reasons, I ended up being the only one of several that do the same job at work. So that meant I was clocking in at 4:30 a.m. and clocking out at 6 p.m. Now I know what my editor does every day and am I so glad it was only a short period of time that had an end on the horizon. Also on the horizon is a fat paycheck with loads of over time pay that will arrive in just a few days!
I also helped a friend and co-worker pack-up for a move, got to spend the week with my sister and nieces and nephew, had dinner with my Bible study, and went to friend's going away party at a llama farm, where we stood in a pasture of llamas and I even petted one.
And now it's only a few days until what I've been looking forward to all July - the end! (Because I'm going to Europe, but I'm saving that for another blog.)
Good-bye July and hello August!
Never has such a period of time flown by so fast and filled with so many ups and downs, but thankfully, will be ending a heck of a lot better than it began!
July began in with my dad in the hospital. The events leading up to his quadruple bypass were a miracle in that they discovered he needed it before anything serious happened, i.e. heart attack or death. While it was emotional, exhausting and terrifying, I can joyously say it was a success and he's home, getting healthy.
I went from being off of work (while Dad was in the hospital) to being at work all the time. This is much of the reason that the month disappeared before I could grasp it. Thanks to a myriad of reasons, I ended up being the only one of several that do the same job at work. So that meant I was clocking in at 4:30 a.m. and clocking out at 6 p.m. Now I know what my editor does every day and am I so glad it was only a short period of time that had an end on the horizon. Also on the horizon is a fat paycheck with loads of over time pay that will arrive in just a few days!
I also helped a friend and co-worker pack-up for a move, got to spend the week with my sister and nieces and nephew, had dinner with my Bible study, and went to friend's going away party at a llama farm, where we stood in a pasture of llamas and I even petted one.
And now it's only a few days until what I've been looking forward to all July - the end! (Because I'm going to Europe, but I'm saving that for another blog.)
Good-bye July and hello August!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Goggles and profound thoughts
While at the lake last week, I was savoring the hot day and the cool water. I swam a few laps, read a book, and thought about writing this blog.
There weren't a lot of people at the lake. But there was a large family. (Not large in size, large in number.) Among them were two little girls, who I'm pretty sure were sisters.
Well, one sister was using a pair of goggles and the other was not so patiently waiting to use them.
Their mom told Sister One she had five more minutes. And instead of using those five minutes, she was just begging for more time.
"Mommy! Twenty more minutes! Ten more minutes!"
All to no avail. And while Sister Two nagged her and laughed at her, she just cried and pouted, instead of using her precious five minutes.
I realized then that I must be getting older or more like my mother, because I thought, "You're wasting your time. Just enjoy them while you can."
And then a more profound thought hit me.
How many people in life are always asking for more, and while doing that, are wasting the time they have with what's right in front of them?
More money, more time, more stuff, some things are just never enough.
I decided right then to make a conscious effort to make the best of whatever situation I'm in.
Because when time's up, I don't want to be wishing for those five minutes with the goggles.
There weren't a lot of people at the lake. But there was a large family. (Not large in size, large in number.) Among them were two little girls, who I'm pretty sure were sisters.
Well, one sister was using a pair of goggles and the other was not so patiently waiting to use them.
Their mom told Sister One she had five more minutes. And instead of using those five minutes, she was just begging for more time.
"Mommy! Twenty more minutes! Ten more minutes!"
All to no avail. And while Sister Two nagged her and laughed at her, she just cried and pouted, instead of using her precious five minutes.
I realized then that I must be getting older or more like my mother, because I thought, "You're wasting your time. Just enjoy them while you can."
And then a more profound thought hit me.
How many people in life are always asking for more, and while doing that, are wasting the time they have with what's right in front of them?
More money, more time, more stuff, some things are just never enough.
I decided right then to make a conscious effort to make the best of whatever situation I'm in.
Because when time's up, I don't want to be wishing for those five minutes with the goggles.
Check engine
I hate to say it but I'm one of those stereotypical females that ignores the check engine light on my car.
Once it goes on, I just ignore it, hoping it goes away. It never does.
My check engine light had been on for about two months. Naively, I told myself it was just the gas cap that hadn't been tightened enough, thus triggering the light.
Or it was just a ploy by the car makers to get me to spend some money. They must have set it to go off after x-amount of miles.
Well, they aren't going to fool me.
So I pretended it wasn't there. I drove to Los Angeles. I drove to Sacramento. The light was still on, but my trusty car got me to and fro.
Then I made the mistake of telling my dad.
"You need to get that checked out," he said.
Ugh.
Yesterday, I took it to a friend's who has that trusty device that tells you the problem. And of course, the book didn't have the code. So he just reset the light and I was off.
I drove to work, happy. I drove home from work, mad. That pesky little light was back.
I had done some Internet research, and turns out the code wasn't a small thing. It was rare - yay me. But expensive.
So naturally I over react, imagining I'm going to have to promise the repairman my first child.
I scream how I hate my car and I never wanted it in the first place.
But today, I made some phone calls, took my car in. Had the computer replaced. And didn't pay anything.
Now I feel a bit foolish about panicking before I knew the results. But I also feel relieved! Hooray!
My car and I definitely have a love-hate relationship. Yesterday I hated it. Today, I love it.
Kind of.
Once it goes on, I just ignore it, hoping it goes away. It never does.
My check engine light had been on for about two months. Naively, I told myself it was just the gas cap that hadn't been tightened enough, thus triggering the light.
Or it was just a ploy by the car makers to get me to spend some money. They must have set it to go off after x-amount of miles.
Well, they aren't going to fool me.
So I pretended it wasn't there. I drove to Los Angeles. I drove to Sacramento. The light was still on, but my trusty car got me to and fro.
Then I made the mistake of telling my dad.
"You need to get that checked out," he said.
Ugh.
Yesterday, I took it to a friend's who has that trusty device that tells you the problem. And of course, the book didn't have the code. So he just reset the light and I was off.
I drove to work, happy. I drove home from work, mad. That pesky little light was back.
I had done some Internet research, and turns out the code wasn't a small thing. It was rare - yay me. But expensive.
So naturally I over react, imagining I'm going to have to promise the repairman my first child.
I scream how I hate my car and I never wanted it in the first place.
But today, I made some phone calls, took my car in. Had the computer replaced. And didn't pay anything.
Now I feel a bit foolish about panicking before I knew the results. But I also feel relieved! Hooray!
My car and I definitely have a love-hate relationship. Yesterday I hated it. Today, I love it.
Kind of.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Thursday
Here's a blog for blogging's sake.
I'm wide awake and really should be trying to sleep, since I have to work super early tomorrow.
But for some reason I can't.
Maybe it's because I can still hear the kids next door playing outside.
Maybe it's because it's not dark outside.
Or maybe, maybe, it's because 8 p.m. is just too early to go to bed, not matter how early you were up this morning and have to repeat again tomorrow.
I'm wide awake and really should be trying to sleep, since I have to work super early tomorrow.
But for some reason I can't.
Maybe it's because I can still hear the kids next door playing outside.
Maybe it's because it's not dark outside.
Or maybe, maybe, it's because 8 p.m. is just too early to go to bed, not matter how early you were up this morning and have to repeat again tomorrow.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Spider-man
Have you ever taken the time to think of all the people you've ever known in the course of your life?
(If you haven't I encourage you to do so.)
It's incredible how many people come into our lives. Some you may forget, even though you promised to be friends forever. And with others, forever may have ended, but you'll always wonder about them.
One such person who was in my young life is a man I only know as "Spider."
Spider became a friend of our family after meeting my mom at the restaurant where she worked. He was a regular and soon he was a regular in our lives.
When asked, he told my sister and I he was called Spider because he wasn't afraid of anything. And after the time he put our goldfish on his tongue, we believed him.
I remember he liked to eat the french toast sticks from Carl's Jr. And I remember one visit he brought me a watermelon pencil case. We have an old picture of him on a boat, so I guess he liked sailing too.
I'm not sure when we lost touch with Spider. Maybe when we moved.
But years and years later, I saw him again.
It was Christmas Eve and I was going to college in Los Angeles. My roommates had chipped in and bought me a plane ticket so I could fly home for the holiday.
On the way home from the airport with my dad and grandpa, we decided to stop for some fast food.
I recognized him right away. He was sitting at a table. He was dirty and didn't look very healthy. But I knew it was Spider.
It was confirmed when my dad said, "Hello, Don."
He hugged us and we began to catch up on all the missing years. I could tell he was happy to see us.
Then he showed us how he had made the camper on the back of his truck into a nice home. He was very proud of his work.
Soon it was time to go and so we hugged him again and my dad gave him some money. Spider wanted to give us something too and so he gave us a big bag of shredded cheese. He also gave us his mailing address.
I wish I hadn't lost it, or at least used it before it disappeared.
Once we got into the car, I called my mom and the tears started flowing.
She tried to console me, explaining that that was the life he wanted to lead.
And maybe he always had and I was just to young to comprehend it.
I still think about him often and that fateful Christmas Eve. I wonder how he's doing, if he's healthy, or even still alive.
I wonder if I ever went back to that fast food restaurant just off the highway, if he'd be there.
Eating french toast sticks.
(If you haven't I encourage you to do so.)
It's incredible how many people come into our lives. Some you may forget, even though you promised to be friends forever. And with others, forever may have ended, but you'll always wonder about them.
One such person who was in my young life is a man I only know as "Spider."
Spider became a friend of our family after meeting my mom at the restaurant where she worked. He was a regular and soon he was a regular in our lives.
When asked, he told my sister and I he was called Spider because he wasn't afraid of anything. And after the time he put our goldfish on his tongue, we believed him.
I remember he liked to eat the french toast sticks from Carl's Jr. And I remember one visit he brought me a watermelon pencil case. We have an old picture of him on a boat, so I guess he liked sailing too.
I'm not sure when we lost touch with Spider. Maybe when we moved.
But years and years later, I saw him again.
It was Christmas Eve and I was going to college in Los Angeles. My roommates had chipped in and bought me a plane ticket so I could fly home for the holiday.
On the way home from the airport with my dad and grandpa, we decided to stop for some fast food.
I recognized him right away. He was sitting at a table. He was dirty and didn't look very healthy. But I knew it was Spider.
It was confirmed when my dad said, "Hello, Don."
He hugged us and we began to catch up on all the missing years. I could tell he was happy to see us.
Then he showed us how he had made the camper on the back of his truck into a nice home. He was very proud of his work.
Soon it was time to go and so we hugged him again and my dad gave him some money. Spider wanted to give us something too and so he gave us a big bag of shredded cheese. He also gave us his mailing address.
I wish I hadn't lost it, or at least used it before it disappeared.
Once we got into the car, I called my mom and the tears started flowing.
She tried to console me, explaining that that was the life he wanted to lead.
And maybe he always had and I was just to young to comprehend it.
I still think about him often and that fateful Christmas Eve. I wonder how he's doing, if he's healthy, or even still alive.
I wonder if I ever went back to that fast food restaurant just off the highway, if he'd be there.
Eating french toast sticks.
Drive thru
I have my best ideas when I'm in my car.
There's just something about being behind the wheel, the scenery whipping past, that just ignites my imagination.
In my car, I'm a rockstar singing my heart out to an adoring audience. In my car, I'm an explorer headed for my next adventure. In my car, I've written best-selling novels and award-winning screenplays. In my car, I'm a philosopher having serious discussions with God.
I've really come to cherish the time I spend in my car. Maybe because it's the one place I can go to be alone.
Alone time is important. Because who else wants to hear me sing at the top of my lungs?
There's just something about being behind the wheel, the scenery whipping past, that just ignites my imagination.
In my car, I'm a rockstar singing my heart out to an adoring audience. In my car, I'm an explorer headed for my next adventure. In my car, I've written best-selling novels and award-winning screenplays. In my car, I'm a philosopher having serious discussions with God.
I've really come to cherish the time I spend in my car. Maybe because it's the one place I can go to be alone.
Alone time is important. Because who else wants to hear me sing at the top of my lungs?
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Asparagus!
I love asparagus. The green spears have recently become my favorite vegetable. And apparently, I'm not alone.The lovely city of Stockton has an annual Asparagus Festival. And when my friend Jenny invited me to meet her there, I jumped right on board.
I drove to Stockton on Sunday, not really sure what to expect. Something like a farmers market, maybe. But what was there was much bigger than what I expected.
Jenny and I got in line to pay our admission. Then we waited in line to buy tickets so that we could use those tickets to purchase fried asparagus and an aspara-margarita. Then we waited in line so we could show our IDs so that they would give us said aspara-margarita. There was a lot of planning involved in getting things done at the Asparagus Festival.
It wasn't only an asparagus fest, but also a mini-reunion of my dormmates from my Sac State days. It was good to see some familiar faces and reminisce about times that were waaay too long ago.One of the highlights was seeing what asparagus looks like if it is allowed to grow. (This is how I know I'm getting old.) It's actually a pretty plant. And I admit I was tempted to take a bite out of the tree-like plant to see what it tasted like.
The other highlight of the day was Jenny and my's paddle boat adventure. We paid our five dollars and waited in line to paddle around in brown water. Jenny made some new friends while we were in line and while I pretended she wasn't one of mine.
We had our fried asparagus, which we wisely decided to share and couldn't even finish it. I guess there actually is too much of a good thing.
By the end of the day, I had seen my lifetime's worth of asparagus and had gotten a little fried myself (by the sun).
As far as friends and asparagus goes, I'd say it was a pretty good day.
Scaling back
I bought a scale tonight. 
Realizing that in three short months I'm going to be on holiday and hopefully lying on a beach in Italy, I've decided I only want to bring about 75% of my current self with me.
That being the case, I've been waking up early enough to dance to my cardio cabaret DVD, led by two yoga-loving ladies who show me stretches that are perfect "moodras for my lower shakras." Whatever that means.
I'm trying to eat less too. Emphasis on the trying. Before each bite, I try to picture myself in a bathing suit, which is usually enough to scare me away from the fridge. Sometimes not.
But back to the scale. I had a scale, but with this new one, instead of rounding it will give me my weight to the tenth decimal. So any bit of progress will hopefully show up and keep me motivated.
As soon as I arrived home, I unwrapped it and tentatively stepped onto it.
And quickly stepped off.
I have a lot of work to do.
Realizing that in three short months I'm going to be on holiday and hopefully lying on a beach in Italy, I've decided I only want to bring about 75% of my current self with me.
That being the case, I've been waking up early enough to dance to my cardio cabaret DVD, led by two yoga-loving ladies who show me stretches that are perfect "moodras for my lower shakras." Whatever that means.
I'm trying to eat less too. Emphasis on the trying. Before each bite, I try to picture myself in a bathing suit, which is usually enough to scare me away from the fridge. Sometimes not.
But back to the scale. I had a scale, but with this new one, instead of rounding it will give me my weight to the tenth decimal. So any bit of progress will hopefully show up and keep me motivated.
As soon as I arrived home, I unwrapped it and tentatively stepped onto it.
And quickly stepped off.
I have a lot of work to do.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Sunshine
Every winter I forget about my wonderful friend The Sun. He doesn't write. He doesn't call. Maybe he peeks through every once in a while, but doesn't bring the heat with him.
He's such a tease.
And just when I'm in the depths of my winter depression and Vitamin D defiency, he comes back full force.
And that's what he's done this week. Out have come the skirts, shorts, flip flops and I've already spent a day at the lake.
I love the sun.
Welcome back, buddy.
He's such a tease.
And just when I'm in the depths of my winter depression and Vitamin D defiency, he comes back full force.
And that's what he's done this week. Out have come the skirts, shorts, flip flops and I've already spent a day at the lake.
I love the sun.
Welcome back, buddy.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Home sick.
I thought if you had a cold, you were in the clear for a while. Apparently not.
I suffered from a cold about two weeks ago and it went away fairly quickly. And then all of a sudden another one struck. Boo.
So what to do when you are home sick?
This is what I've done:
1. Wake up really early, because I fell asleep super early the night before.
2. Debate whether or not I could survive a day at work.
3. Call in after I decided I couldn't hack it.
4. Turn on the TV.
5. Flip through channels.
6. Listen to the ladies on the View talk about Twitter.
7. Hmm... maybe I'd like to join Twitter.
8. Nah... too confusing. Don't get sucked into a trend.
9. Start to watch Twilight.
10. Will myself to take a shower and go to the store.
11. Join Twitter.
12. Wonder when Twilight will end.
13. Check Twitter to see if friends have found me.
14. Blow nose.
15. Write blog.
16. Think, I really should take a shower and go to the store.
That's about it. Exciting, no?
I suffered from a cold about two weeks ago and it went away fairly quickly. And then all of a sudden another one struck. Boo.
So what to do when you are home sick?
This is what I've done:
1. Wake up really early, because I fell asleep super early the night before.
2. Debate whether or not I could survive a day at work.
3. Call in after I decided I couldn't hack it.
4. Turn on the TV.
5. Flip through channels.
6. Listen to the ladies on the View talk about Twitter.
7. Hmm... maybe I'd like to join Twitter.
8. Nah... too confusing. Don't get sucked into a trend.
9. Start to watch Twilight.
10. Will myself to take a shower and go to the store.
11. Join Twitter.
12. Wonder when Twilight will end.
13. Check Twitter to see if friends have found me.
14. Blow nose.
15. Write blog.
16. Think, I really should take a shower and go to the store.
That's about it. Exciting, no?
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
There is an 'I' in Italy
It seems that the rain is gone and summer is nearly upon us.
With that comes the excitement of swimming, a suntan and flip flops. And the best part of all...
Vacation.
Thanks to Uncle Sam I have some money to invest in a nice, but modest, trip. At first I was debating between saving that money, but then the world called and invited me to visit again.
Visiting the U.K. again is definitely high on my list. But for some reason, I feel that somewhere a little more south is beckoning.
It all began with the book "Eat, Pray, Love." I checked out the audio book when I drove down to L.A. a few weeks ago. The author spent three months in Italy; eating the food, drinking the wine, meeting the people. Those are three things I like to do!
Italy called again last Saturday. "Under the Tuscan Sun" was on television and once more the idea of basking in the Italian sun stirred in me. Just a few hours later, I had Italian food for dinner, which sealed the deal.
I want to go to Italy. More than that, I think Italy wants me to go to Italy.
How can I refuse?
With that comes the excitement of swimming, a suntan and flip flops. And the best part of all...
Vacation.
Thanks to Uncle Sam I have some money to invest in a nice, but modest, trip. At first I was debating between saving that money, but then the world called and invited me to visit again.
Visiting the U.K. again is definitely high on my list. But for some reason, I feel that somewhere a little more south is beckoning.
It all began with the book "Eat, Pray, Love." I checked out the audio book when I drove down to L.A. a few weeks ago. The author spent three months in Italy; eating the food, drinking the wine, meeting the people. Those are three things I like to do!
Italy called again last Saturday. "Under the Tuscan Sun" was on television and once more the idea of basking in the Italian sun stirred in me. Just a few hours later, I had Italian food for dinner, which sealed the deal.
I want to go to Italy. More than that, I think Italy wants me to go to Italy.
How can I refuse?
Monday, March 23, 2009
The Twilight Zone
I spent my birthday and a few days more in Los Angeles with some good friends, all of whom happened to be obsessed with the vampire known as Edward Cullen.
As much as I fought and kicked and screamed and tried to get out of it, Friday night found me at Blockbuster to pick up the just-released DVD.
Racing home, my friends and I got comfy and thus began our journey into the Twilight Zone.
From what I could hear in between the squeals and "This is my favorite scene!" was just enough to pique my interest into where this tale leads.
Not so much that I want to read it, but just quiz whoever will tell me. And watch the following movies, which I trust will be of much higher quality.
The second viewing of "Twilight" on Saturday night had me further thinking, "I could write that," and wondering why I didn't.
I tried reading the book and found it so dull I couldn't finish it. It just wasn't something I could sink my teeth into (pun intended). But seeing that it's a national best seller and everyone I know can't put it down, maybe I don't have my fingers on the pulse of what's quality entertainment.
Instead of telling myself that I suck (ha!), I think I'll take it as a challenge. You're on Stephanie Meyer.
As much as I fought and kicked and screamed and tried to get out of it, Friday night found me at Blockbuster to pick up the just-released DVD.
Racing home, my friends and I got comfy and thus began our journey into the Twilight Zone.
From what I could hear in between the squeals and "This is my favorite scene!" was just enough to pique my interest into where this tale leads.
Not so much that I want to read it, but just quiz whoever will tell me. And watch the following movies, which I trust will be of much higher quality.
The second viewing of "Twilight" on Saturday night had me further thinking, "I could write that," and wondering why I didn't.
I tried reading the book and found it so dull I couldn't finish it. It just wasn't something I could sink my teeth into (pun intended). But seeing that it's a national best seller and everyone I know can't put it down, maybe I don't have my fingers on the pulse of what's quality entertainment.
Instead of telling myself that I suck (ha!), I think I'll take it as a challenge. You're on Stephanie Meyer.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Blondes DO have more fun
It's official. I'm blonde again. Can we let out a collective "Hooray!"
I very much enjoy having blonde hair but it always seems that a poor choice (which usually involves a box of do-it-yourself hair dye) tears it away from me. But I always come back.
It all began when I was born. I was born completely bald. So bald that my mother would tape bows to my head so people knew I was girl. But, when my hair finally did grow in, it was blonde. So I made my way through childhood with lovely golden locks and sometime around junior high or high school, it decided to become darker. I was in denial. I didn't care what color my hair was, if you asked me what color my hair was, it was blonde. Dirty blonde, dishwater blonde, blonde, blonde, BLONDE OK?!
I'd highlight every once in a while after that, the first time being my junior year of high school. I never did anything too drastic out of fear of looking completely horrible. If only I knew what was coming.
Then one day, it just hit me. I want to be blonde again. Really blonde. Maybe it was the living in Los Angeles that did it to me, I don't know. All I know is that I was determined.
So, being a poor college student, what did I do? I let my mother dye my hair. Now, to this day she claims the result of that and the other days were not her fault. I'm not so sure.
Maybe we didn't leave the dye on long enough, but all I know is that I had orange brassy hair. I cried, I wore hats, I hid myself from public view.
And then as soon as possible, I hit the salon. Embarrassed, I listened to the stylist lecture me about at home hair dyes. "I'll never do it again," I promised. (I lied.) And I went home with beautiful dark reddish-brown hair, Cherry Coke hair.
I kept the dark hair going for the remainder of college. I even dyed it at home again with the help of my roommate. You can't really mess up dark hair dye.
But being a blonde was never far from my mind. So I mustered up the courage to do it again. But this time I was going straight to the salon. I went to the salon, told her I wanted to be blonde, she said OK, and I came out with the same color hair I went in with.
So after some agonizing, I called and said, this wasn't what I wanted, and the lady begrudging re-did it. Won't be going back there again.
When it was time for a touch-up, I went to the stylist who gave me my Cherry Coke hair and she did a wonderful job that and the time after.
And I then it was time to move to Wales. Up until a few weeks before I was leaving for my year in the U.K., I had long blonde hair. I had visions of being the typical California girl: blonde hair, tan, it was great.
So I went back to my trusty stylist, who somehow convinced me to maybe go a bit darker. So I thought, carmel, ok, I can do that. No. This was dark, dark, dark brown and somehow I must have given her the impression she could chop all my hair off cause that's what she did.
I feel sick even writing about this. I remember her saying, "It's so nice to get to be an artist for once and do something different. People always want the same thing."
I'm sitting in the chair, forcing a grin, when all I really want to do is jump out of the chair and scream, "I want the same thing!"
And then she charged me $200. I smiled, thanked her, told her how much I loved it. And then as soon as I was out the door, burst into tears. I called my mother, sobbing. Went home and sobbed so much I threw up.
Now, you are probably thinking, it's just hair. You are ridiculous, Megan. But you don't understand. I had visions of how it was supposed to look. And how it looked couldn't have been more opposite. And I paid $200 for it to be so!
I bought shampoo that was supposed to help my hair grow. It didn't.
I remember one evening, some Welsh kids were picking me up to take me to church with them. "You don't look like you're from California," one of them said from the back seat. And I just knew, "It's the hair, isn't it?"
Somewhere in between my time in Wales, I went home for a visit and back to blonde. Back in Wales, I let the Austrian girls highlight it with this weird bleach before my trip to Greece. And then in the summer I went to a salon and had it done for 25 pounds. Hooray! Blonde again!
I maintained the blonde for a year after that. I let my hair grow in rebellion to the butchering it suffered and roots would occasionally reveal themselves, but it was all OK.
Then it was time for my trip to Toronto. I really need to touch up my hair, I thought. But didn't have the money. So, with the pain of my first experience far behind me, I bought the at home stuff again.
Not letting my mother do it, I put a friend in charge and she did a pretty good job. It was definitely blonde.
My precious mother suggested I touch up the front and that is when disaster struck. What started as me touching up the hair around my face, had me touching up my part and had me looking like a neon skunk. Not kidding.
I had plans to hang out with a guy that night and in a panic, stole my mother's brown hair dye and covered up the horror.
"You missed a spot," my mother pointed out the next day. She's so helpful.
So began the third dying in a span of two days. My hair revolted.
Just as I'm leaving for the airport, I look in the mirror and notice how red my hair looks. Like bright red, not pretty red. Horrible coppery red. I looked like a penny. How did it turn red?! There was no red involved in the dying. It was supposed to be brown.
But it was too late to do anything about it. I had a plane to catch. Once in Toronto, my friends complimented it, but I know they were just being nice.
Upon my return I dyed it darker, again. And several times after that. I was a brunette, no denying it this time.
But today, oh today, all was redeemed when I went to the salon and had a licensed professional bring me back to my blonde glory.
Like an old friend, I forgot how much I missed it until it was back in my life.
So go ahead, ask me, what color is my hair? And this time I won't have to lie.
I very much enjoy having blonde hair but it always seems that a poor choice (which usually involves a box of do-it-yourself hair dye) tears it away from me. But I always come back.
It all began when I was born. I was born completely bald. So bald that my mother would tape bows to my head so people knew I was girl. But, when my hair finally did grow in, it was blonde. So I made my way through childhood with lovely golden locks and sometime around junior high or high school, it decided to become darker. I was in denial. I didn't care what color my hair was, if you asked me what color my hair was, it was blonde. Dirty blonde, dishwater blonde, blonde, blonde, BLONDE OK?!
I'd highlight every once in a while after that, the first time being my junior year of high school. I never did anything too drastic out of fear of looking completely horrible. If only I knew what was coming.
Then one day, it just hit me. I want to be blonde again. Really blonde. Maybe it was the living in Los Angeles that did it to me, I don't know. All I know is that I was determined.
So, being a poor college student, what did I do? I let my mother dye my hair. Now, to this day she claims the result of that and the other days were not her fault. I'm not so sure.
Maybe we didn't leave the dye on long enough, but all I know is that I had orange brassy hair. I cried, I wore hats, I hid myself from public view.
And then as soon as possible, I hit the salon. Embarrassed, I listened to the stylist lecture me about at home hair dyes. "I'll never do it again," I promised. (I lied.) And I went home with beautiful dark reddish-brown hair, Cherry Coke hair.
I kept the dark hair going for the remainder of college. I even dyed it at home again with the help of my roommate. You can't really mess up dark hair dye.
But being a blonde was never far from my mind. So I mustered up the courage to do it again. But this time I was going straight to the salon. I went to the salon, told her I wanted to be blonde, she said OK, and I came out with the same color hair I went in with.
So after some agonizing, I called and said, this wasn't what I wanted, and the lady begrudging re-did it. Won't be going back there again.
When it was time for a touch-up, I went to the stylist who gave me my Cherry Coke hair and she did a wonderful job that and the time after.
And I then it was time to move to Wales. Up until a few weeks before I was leaving for my year in the U.K., I had long blonde hair. I had visions of being the typical California girl: blonde hair, tan, it was great.
So I went back to my trusty stylist, who somehow convinced me to maybe go a bit darker. So I thought, carmel, ok, I can do that. No. This was dark, dark, dark brown and somehow I must have given her the impression she could chop all my hair off cause that's what she did.
I feel sick even writing about this. I remember her saying, "It's so nice to get to be an artist for once and do something different. People always want the same thing."
I'm sitting in the chair, forcing a grin, when all I really want to do is jump out of the chair and scream, "I want the same thing!"
And then she charged me $200. I smiled, thanked her, told her how much I loved it. And then as soon as I was out the door, burst into tears. I called my mother, sobbing. Went home and sobbed so much I threw up.
Now, you are probably thinking, it's just hair. You are ridiculous, Megan. But you don't understand. I had visions of how it was supposed to look. And how it looked couldn't have been more opposite. And I paid $200 for it to be so!
I bought shampoo that was supposed to help my hair grow. It didn't.
I remember one evening, some Welsh kids were picking me up to take me to church with them. "You don't look like you're from California," one of them said from the back seat. And I just knew, "It's the hair, isn't it?"
Somewhere in between my time in Wales, I went home for a visit and back to blonde. Back in Wales, I let the Austrian girls highlight it with this weird bleach before my trip to Greece. And then in the summer I went to a salon and had it done for 25 pounds. Hooray! Blonde again!
I maintained the blonde for a year after that. I let my hair grow in rebellion to the butchering it suffered and roots would occasionally reveal themselves, but it was all OK.
Then it was time for my trip to Toronto. I really need to touch up my hair, I thought. But didn't have the money. So, with the pain of my first experience far behind me, I bought the at home stuff again.
Not letting my mother do it, I put a friend in charge and she did a pretty good job. It was definitely blonde.
My precious mother suggested I touch up the front and that is when disaster struck. What started as me touching up the hair around my face, had me touching up my part and had me looking like a neon skunk. Not kidding.
I had plans to hang out with a guy that night and in a panic, stole my mother's brown hair dye and covered up the horror.
"You missed a spot," my mother pointed out the next day. She's so helpful.
So began the third dying in a span of two days. My hair revolted.
Just as I'm leaving for the airport, I look in the mirror and notice how red my hair looks. Like bright red, not pretty red. Horrible coppery red. I looked like a penny. How did it turn red?! There was no red involved in the dying. It was supposed to be brown.
But it was too late to do anything about it. I had a plane to catch. Once in Toronto, my friends complimented it, but I know they were just being nice.
Upon my return I dyed it darker, again. And several times after that. I was a brunette, no denying it this time.
But today, oh today, all was redeemed when I went to the salon and had a licensed professional bring me back to my blonde glory.
Like an old friend, I forgot how much I missed it until it was back in my life.
So go ahead, ask me, what color is my hair? And this time I won't have to lie.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Rock on
I've found my calling and it's called Guitar Hero.
Tonight I had dinner with some friends and afterwards we broke out the Guitar Hero and rocked out.
It was awesome.
Who knew I had so much eye-hand coordination? I sure as heck didn't.
Maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself, but I think I might be ready for the big time.
That is, if the big time includes an "Easy" level and brightly colored buttons that I can push to hit the right chord.
If so, then I'm definitely ready.
Tonight I had dinner with some friends and afterwards we broke out the Guitar Hero and rocked out.
It was awesome.
Who knew I had so much eye-hand coordination? I sure as heck didn't.
Maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself, but I think I might be ready for the big time.
That is, if the big time includes an "Easy" level and brightly colored buttons that I can push to hit the right chord.
If so, then I'm definitely ready.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Confessions of a shopaholic
Today I indulged in a little retail therapy.
Among my purchases were Crest White Strips, so you know what that means. In 28 days, I'm going to have a beautiful white smile or my money back.
I also shopped for a present for my friend's new baby. I now not-so-secretly wished I was shopping for my own. Not really. But kinda really.
Maybe because I'm getting older, but I seems that something has kicked in the last few months that whenever I see a baby, I tear up a little, feel pangs of longing and think, "Man, I want one!"
Man. That's the problem. You need one of those to have the other one. And I'm pretty sure telling a guy you want to have a baby is not the best way to get him to stick around.
It's quite the predicament.
I guess I could have bought the little alligator pajamas for the future Rhys Griffiths Haggerty-TBA, but for now I'll stick with my Crest White Strips.
Because in 28 days, I may not have a baby, but at least I'll have a white smile.
Among my purchases were Crest White Strips, so you know what that means. In 28 days, I'm going to have a beautiful white smile or my money back.
I also shopped for a present for my friend's new baby. I now not-so-secretly wished I was shopping for my own. Not really. But kinda really.
Maybe because I'm getting older, but I seems that something has kicked in the last few months that whenever I see a baby, I tear up a little, feel pangs of longing and think, "Man, I want one!"
Man. That's the problem. You need one of those to have the other one. And I'm pretty sure telling a guy you want to have a baby is not the best way to get him to stick around.
It's quite the predicament.
I guess I could have bought the little alligator pajamas for the future Rhys Griffiths Haggerty-TBA, but for now I'll stick with my Crest White Strips.
Because in 28 days, I may not have a baby, but at least I'll have a white smile.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Today was a day
I am exhausted after a really, really long day at work.
And yet I feel surprisingly upbeat.
And then it hit me...
Exactly one month from today, I'll be 27.
Boo. Snarl. Hiss.
And yet I feel surprisingly upbeat.
And then it hit me...
Exactly one month from today, I'll be 27.
Boo. Snarl. Hiss.
Monday, February 9, 2009
There she goes again
It's funny how one idea can spur on to another and then another and soon you're so far from the idea that spurred you on in the first place, it's a completely different thought altogether.
Maybe it's because when you open the door to one possibility, a whole bunch of others pour in too. Possibility doesn't like to travel alone, I guess.
I say this because a random and funny text I received from a friend last week sped up the ever turning thoughts of what direction I should go and sent me barreling forward.
I don't know if anything will come of these ideas, but that's one thing about possibility, it may pull you in a million different directions, and never actually get you anywhere, but at least it's fun to have around.
Maybe it's because when you open the door to one possibility, a whole bunch of others pour in too. Possibility doesn't like to travel alone, I guess.
I say this because a random and funny text I received from a friend last week sped up the ever turning thoughts of what direction I should go and sent me barreling forward.
I don't know if anything will come of these ideas, but that's one thing about possibility, it may pull you in a million different directions, and never actually get you anywhere, but at least it's fun to have around.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
And the momeraths outgrabe...
It was a Cheshire Cat moon tonight. Driving home, I saw the lunar slice grinning at me and it reminded me of the times my sister and I were curled up in the back seat of my parents' car on the way to the drive-in movies.
We'd wear our pajamas and my mom would build a little bird's nest for us, with the back seat of the hatchback Sprint folded down. On the drive, Erin and I would point at the moon and laugh how it was following us.
It followed me again tonight. It stood out in the sky the entire way home, managing to hover above the hills and keep its pearly whites on me.
The Cheshire Cat moon got me thinking. Besides the trip down memory lane, it had me looking ahead. If I talked to this troublesome cat, I imagine the conversation probably would have gone like something this:
"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't much care where –" said Alice.
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"– so long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."
(from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)
(Outgrabe (past tense; present tense outgribe) – Something between bellowing and whistling, with a kind of sneeze in the middle. -- From Wikipedia)
We'd wear our pajamas and my mom would build a little bird's nest for us, with the back seat of the hatchback Sprint folded down. On the drive, Erin and I would point at the moon and laugh how it was following us.
It followed me again tonight. It stood out in the sky the entire way home, managing to hover above the hills and keep its pearly whites on me.
The Cheshire Cat moon got me thinking. Besides the trip down memory lane, it had me looking ahead. If I talked to this troublesome cat, I imagine the conversation probably would have gone like something this:
"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't much care where –" said Alice.
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"– so long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."
(from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)
(Outgrabe (past tense; present tense outgribe) – Something between bellowing and whistling, with a kind of sneeze in the middle. -- From Wikipedia)
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Resolutions 2009 update
In my last blog, I listed my New Year's resolutions. Here is an update to my progress:
1) In the last three weeks I have eaten meat twice. The first was one week in. I was a friend's place for dinner and had some pizza with chicken and bacon on it. D'oh! But it was very teeny tiny pieces of bacon, so it really can't count. Can it? I mean they were really small pieces. The other time I failed was today. I had chicken in my taco salad. But I believe I added a disclaimer for chicken, so technically, I've only messed up once. Other than that, I must say I'm impressed with my self-control and I really don't even miss it that much.
2) I have yet to go snowboarding, but I did go snowshoeing with a group of friends a couple weeks ago. I huffed and puffed my way over the hills and slid/fell down most of them. I thought I was going to die at least once. That was when I was sliding and couldn't stop myself and instead of helping me, my "friend" moved out of the way. He later told me I was a natural on snowshoes, to which I replied that I had a knack for waddling.
3) I have also grabbed rejection by the horns and looked it square in the face. Without going into great detail, it was pretty nervewracking, but felt great at the same time. Now, if I could only take this and apply it to all areas of my life, I very well may become unstoppable. Megan Haggerty, unstoppable reject.
4) I still live in Copperopolis. It has only been three weeks, I may be unstoppable, but I'm not a miracle worker.
1) In the last three weeks I have eaten meat twice. The first was one week in. I was a friend's place for dinner and had some pizza with chicken and bacon on it. D'oh! But it was very teeny tiny pieces of bacon, so it really can't count. Can it? I mean they were really small pieces. The other time I failed was today. I had chicken in my taco salad. But I believe I added a disclaimer for chicken, so technically, I've only messed up once. Other than that, I must say I'm impressed with my self-control and I really don't even miss it that much.
2) I have yet to go snowboarding, but I did go snowshoeing with a group of friends a couple weeks ago. I huffed and puffed my way over the hills and slid/fell down most of them. I thought I was going to die at least once. That was when I was sliding and couldn't stop myself and instead of helping me, my "friend" moved out of the way. He later told me I was a natural on snowshoes, to which I replied that I had a knack for waddling.3) I have also grabbed rejection by the horns and looked it square in the face. Without going into great detail, it was pretty nervewracking, but felt great at the same time. Now, if I could only take this and apply it to all areas of my life, I very well may become unstoppable. Megan Haggerty, unstoppable reject.
4) I still live in Copperopolis. It has only been three weeks, I may be unstoppable, but I'm not a miracle worker.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
New year, new me
I try not to do anything too big for New Year's Eve and I'll tell you why.
There's so much hype and build up to the last night of the year and I have found that they year's I've tried to make a big to do of it, I've winded up disappointed.
So like the last few years, I approached this eve with a laid back, I'll do whatever attitude and had a great time with the great friends I've made this year.
Just before the clock on the microwave struck midnight, the few of us that lasted went around to share our New Year's resolutions. Up until that point I hadn't given it up much thought. I did have one or two ideas, but they weren't ones I was particularly committed to.
I wish I had given it more thought and said something that if I followed through would change my life, but why set myself up like that?
Well, fourteen hours later, I've given it some more thought and have come up with several things to accomplish in the New Year and I'll try to give a little insight into why I've chosen them.
1) Try vegetarianism
(Emphasis on the word try.) On Christmas Eve, I was at a friend of my parents' house and while most of us were at the table playing games, some of the men where in the living room were watching a hunting channel. (I don't know if there actually is a hunting channel, but it was all hunting shows, so I'm going to call it that.) Anyway, they guys on the show were shooting deer, snakes, boars, etc., and, maybe because it was Christmas, I felt bad. I thought about this on the way home (I do most of my deep thinking in the car) but reminded myself that I eat chickens and cows and pigs and boy are they delicious! But anyway, the point is I'm going to try to go without meat. I may eat chicken from time to time, so if you see me with a drumstick in hand, don't hold it against me.
2) Snowboarding
This wasn't a New Year's resolution until my friend Vanessa gave me her snowboard this morning. But a few months ago I decided I wanted to snowboard this winter and she said she had a board she didn't use. And Alisha has boots I can have, so I'm pretty much set, just point me in the direction of the snow!
3) Confidence
I'm not sure that many people know this about me, but I have a major fear of rejection (I just spelled fear f-e-e-r, wow. Glad I caught that.) So I've decided that I'm going to put myself out there, especially with my writing (which also means I need to really focus on my writing) and maybe with a few other things too. I have to stop waiting for life to drop things in my lap and do something about the things I want. Or else I will live in Copperopolis forever!!!!!
Which brings me to my last resolution:
4) Move out of Copperopolis!
There's so much hype and build up to the last night of the year and I have found that they year's I've tried to make a big to do of it, I've winded up disappointed.
So like the last few years, I approached this eve with a laid back, I'll do whatever attitude and had a great time with the great friends I've made this year.
Just before the clock on the microwave struck midnight, the few of us that lasted went around to share our New Year's resolutions. Up until that point I hadn't given it up much thought. I did have one or two ideas, but they weren't ones I was particularly committed to.
I wish I had given it more thought and said something that if I followed through would change my life, but why set myself up like that?
Well, fourteen hours later, I've given it some more thought and have come up with several things to accomplish in the New Year and I'll try to give a little insight into why I've chosen them.
1) Try vegetarianism
(Emphasis on the word try.) On Christmas Eve, I was at a friend of my parents' house and while most of us were at the table playing games, some of the men where in the living room were watching a hunting channel. (I don't know if there actually is a hunting channel, but it was all hunting shows, so I'm going to call it that.) Anyway, they guys on the show were shooting deer, snakes, boars, etc., and, maybe because it was Christmas, I felt bad. I thought about this on the way home (I do most of my deep thinking in the car) but reminded myself that I eat chickens and cows and pigs and boy are they delicious! But anyway, the point is I'm going to try to go without meat. I may eat chicken from time to time, so if you see me with a drumstick in hand, don't hold it against me.
2) Snowboarding
This wasn't a New Year's resolution until my friend Vanessa gave me her snowboard this morning. But a few months ago I decided I wanted to snowboard this winter and she said she had a board she didn't use. And Alisha has boots I can have, so I'm pretty much set, just point me in the direction of the snow!
3) Confidence
I'm not sure that many people know this about me, but I have a major fear of rejection (I just spelled fear f-e-e-r, wow. Glad I caught that.) So I've decided that I'm going to put myself out there, especially with my writing (which also means I need to really focus on my writing) and maybe with a few other things too. I have to stop waiting for life to drop things in my lap and do something about the things I want. Or else I will live in Copperopolis forever!!!!!
Which brings me to my last resolution:
4) Move out of Copperopolis!
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