s'mores anyone?

I just found out that August 30 is National Toasted Marshmallow Day! I guess I share my birthday with a holiday after all. Move over Cameron Diaz (also an Aug. 30 birthday girl), I now have a new claim to birthday-sharing fame. You can find info on events happening on your birthday here.

work rally

Today I had the pleasant surprise of a mini-party hosted by my lovely coworkers. There was a cake (of course with orange frosting), flowers, and gifts. For as much as we are stressed at work, people always try to do something special to show appreciation. I'm truly lucky to have such thoughtful coworkers.

But, gosh, am I happy I won't have to see them for five days. I'm taking tomorrow and Friday off from work, and Monday is Labor Day so I will be out of the office that day as well. As much as I like my coworkers, it is nice to not have to see them because it means I'm not at work!

I actually may end up coming in for a few hours on Friday, but that would be at my leisure. As for you, Internet, I am also taking a vacation from you for the weekend and won't be so much as logging on for the next five days. Have a happy holiday weekend!

maladies #4: long row to hoe

Well, it is lunchtime and I am back from my hour-long physical therapy appointment. As it turns out, the chiropractor did not, in fact, realign my pelvis and my legs were not, as a result, the same length. I didn't feel a whole lot of difference, other than the throbbing lower back pain, after that chiro appointment. Oh, and the throbbing, that was cake. This new throbbing from the various workouts I will be required to do daily (amounting in over 7 hours per week), they cause throbbing...and stabbing..and pulsing...and steam to come out of my ears and random "holy fuck"s to come out of my mouth.

No, the physical therapist was only moderately attractive, in an a-sexual way. I was restrained, and other than a few sharp breaths and winces, I did not overtly indicate that my muscles were being torn from their joints.

So, other than the pain that doesn't allow me to stand fully upright, I received a myriad of strength-training exercises and for the cost of only $24, "the Original McKenzie SuperRoll Deluxe Lumbar Support" pillow-thing. Not only does this product tout being both "sleek and comfortable," it also promises to "decrease discomfort of prolonged sitting." If it could decrease the discomfort of living and breathing and moving associated with today's session, I would marry it and bear its offspring...but no, it doesn't do that. Said "SuperRoll," as I like to call it, is to be used whenever I'm sitting for more than an hour. This would mean, all day at work, in the car, and when doing work at home. In other words, I might as well sew the damned thing to my back and have a grotesque hump of foam protruding from under my shirt, that is how tight we'll end up being.

I must say that I am more optimistic after this last appointment than I have been in a long time. And even though I see my therapist as a completely a-sexual fountain of healing, I do like him and he seems to genuinely want to help, which is a welcomed change from feeling like a medical experiment or another procedure to add to a medical resume. This is particularly good because I'll be seeing him on a weekly basis for what is looking to be an indefinite amount of time (as I progress, we may be able to cut down the appointments).

Alas, I do have a plan for at least 1.5 hours of my birthday: stretches twice a day and strength-training for my core "to fatigue." Woohoo dilly!

maladies #3: happy birthday?

I'll turn 26 in two days. I'm not going to lie and say that "age is just a number," though I do believe that in the case of my relationship with the man (who is eleven years my senior). Age is more than a number when you make the jump from early twenties to mid twenties and are knocking on the door of late twenties. Ah, yes, you think I'll be having a hard time of it when the thirties, forties, and fifties hit me, but I am still young enough to get away with a lack of foresight so pishaw on you.

As for an update on the hips...today I go to my first PT session this morning. Oh yippee. I'm not enthused, but am hoping that I will be able to get some sort of motivation from this first meeting. If nothing else, I hope that there is a positive spin (even if it is just getting more toned and has nothing to do with the pain subsiding, or if the physical trainer is hot - I am trying to lower the cynicism for the time being).

The unfortunate part of it, referring back to the age stuff, is that I woke up feeling like an octogenarian who had been mugged in an alley the night before. The weather changes are wreaking much havoc on the musculoskeletal system and I'm stiff and sore and ornery to boot. Oh, please let the physical trainer be good looking enough to help me to disarm the expletives that are bound to try to fly out of my mouth.

requiem for a dream

I realized this morning that I am not losing my mind. If you had asked me yesterday, I would have said I’d gone crazy, crazy cocoa puffs. I have dreamt of engagement/impending matrimony three nights in a row. I was worried that it might be my subconscious trying to tell me something, something that I should be hoping for, since I couldn’t quite figure out what else would have spurred on such a dream.

One of my thoughts about the impetus for the dreams was the man’s behavior as of late. He has been acting rather affectionate by normal standards. This is not to say that he normally is lacking in that department, but the past two weeks he has been more affectionate than normal, touting me as “the best girlfriend ever” to friends and coworkers.

So, in my dream world, I have been dreaming of becoming affianced. The man is rarely in my dreams in the physical sense, and sometimes I am looking in at someone I believe to be myself (and sometimes Sandra Bullock) so who the hell knows what that means. My upcoming birthday was another event I suspected as leading to the dreams. Both of which led me to think that I might really, deep down be hoping for a proposal, which is not at all like what my awake mind manifests as near-future milestones.

But, today, it was brought to my attention a reason that would have me thinking wedding bells that has nothing to do with either me or the man. Yay! My coworker friend is pressing her boyfriend for a ring/commitment. We’ve had lengthy discussions about this. I don’t know why I didn’t think about this before? Maybe because I’m selfish…maybe because I’m forgetful. But, either way, I’m out of the hot seat and am free to go on being merry and not thinking about being tied down or questioning my sanity in terms of up and deciding to follow societal norms of marriage. Whew…what a relief.

PS: This is not to say that I would never want to be married - but I don't think I (or we) have reached that point as of yet.

reasons why i'd rather be sleeping

• Technically, I'd already put in my hours for the week by Thursday afternoon, yet I'll be at work all day today.
• It has rained consistently for the past two weeks.
• I haven't been sleeping because the dog hates thunderstorms.
• I went out with coworkers for happy hour last night.
• On my way home from happy hour I had to swing past the ER to pick up the roommate who claimed to have food poisoning, but left shortly upon our return home to get McDonald's.
• I have taken on a couple side projects so have been working outside of real job.
• I went to see Becoming Jane on Wednesday night and have decided that there is a large chance that I'll die an unloved spinster at age 41.
• I'm tired.

proposal

Well, the man and I are set to reach another milestone. I have officially proposed that the man celebrate Christmas Day with my family up north. We have fashioned a plan to attend his grandma's Christmas Eve festivities and then head four hours north in the morning to spend the next few days drinking and being merry (just like Jesus would want). I'm glad that he has agreed to join me (and I have attended numerous events with his families) but I have never brought a significant other to a Christmas before so I'm concerned with the consequences. The only unmarried significant other to ever attend a Christmas had knocked up my cousin and they are now married.

Thus, the man's attendance may open the topic of matrimony to some of my nosier aunts and uncles. These relatives, the "inquisitive" ones, are the ones who don't know me well enough to realize that the answer is "none of your damn business, I'm happy living sinfully." The aunts and uncles who I do like know me well enough to realize that the likelihood that I'll be getting married anytime soon is as likely as Guam successfully overthrowing the US government.

I'm the sixth of nearly twenty grandchildren on my mom's side of the family. Of the six older than me, all but one are married. There are a couple younger than I who are already wed or affianced. As I said, I'm number six, and number five is my buffer. He doesn't appear to be settling down anytime soon, so as long as he decides to dodge the bullets, I too will be safe from impending wedlock. I don't look forward to the stigma of being that niece, the one who isn't married...you know, the twenty-something spinster. Not that I would consider getting legally coupled to avoid familial scrutiny as they've always considered me to be a little too alternatively minded for their tastes.

But, luckily, the couple of relatives who pry with their questions also depart early from the gathering and we may not have to put up with them at all if we strategically time our arrival.

I do realize that Jesus' birthday is many months away, but family is already asking whether or not I'll be in attendance and I have to give notice that I'll be attending +1 this year. Of course, given our track record, the plans may not work out, in which case I'd have to answer for why the man doesn't attend with me. I guess I'll be bombarded with questions either way, thank God the punch is spiked and there will be copious amounts of Brandy slush.

countdown

My birthday is less than two weeks away. Yesterday, the man asked me what I wanted. To be honest, it is difficult to tell the man what I want, but I should give him some sort of suggestion because I've been told by my closest friends that I am difficult to shop for. I really don't know what I would want for my birthday.

I'm hesitant to give the man any sort of guidelines because in the past few years we've been dating, something horribly wrong has happened to affect each and every plan we've made to do something special or even remotely special. He is a man, however, and left to his own devices may get me something that he heard me mention (but couldn't remember if it was because I liked it or disliked it so decided to throw caution to the wind). This is the man who wrapped a cheeseburger in gift wrap on my last birthday (at least he told me to open that one first and it was still fresh) because I do love cheeseburgers. But, when it comes down to it, wrapping perishable food is a bit odd.

Still, I think I will throw a couple nonthreatening ideas his way and hope for the best. Other than the food thing last year, he didn't do half bad.

work and work

I've decided, in an effort to subsist on more than a shoestring, to take on a couple side projects outside of work. I'll be beginning by doing a research project for a former colleague. The project shouldn't take me more than a week and a couple weekends, but will allow me to perhaps replenish my meager bank account a bit (there are a lot of birthdays in August!) and finance a couple tanks of gasoline.

My thesisn't is also time consuming and I'll be taking yet another brief hiatus from said thesisn't in order to do the other research project. Perhaps this new project will help me to focus my own work. One can only hope.

In other words, my time just became as tightly stretched as my dollars.

sparkle and fade

You (the rare few who actually read this blog) may have noticed that I've been changing my mastheads a lot lately. I've decided that I'll be using the current theme as my standard template - deviating from this only when a particular event occurs that requires a segue from my banner.

This design is called "sparkle and fade" and I like it because it is both dark and colorful at the same time. Also, the background behind the title reminds me of stadium lights that need to be replaced and the title reminds me of sparklers at the 4th of July.

I'll still be debuting new mastheads at www.iamtrish.blogspot.com, but I'll only update the look of this site every once in a while, returning to this template in the interim periods.

A lot has been going on lately, I'll be more explicit in the upcoming week.

maladies #2: hello humanity

Note: Throbbing is not good. I don't read "romance" novels (a.k.a. smut), but I have seen enough copy to know that they often cite a "throbbing" member as being a good thing. From what I can tell of male anatomy, if a part so cherished by its owner felt like my lower back is feeling right now (throbbing), the owner would never, ever, ever want to participate in any activity that would cause such a response.

So, my chiropractic appointment went well, if by well you mean that much pain was derived from a fifteen minute session with the promise of future sessions yet to come. My numb lower back is now awake with sensations of two years of pent-up irritation. But, [good news]: I can feel. This reminds me of a line an ex-boyfriend once used when I broke up with him "At least I know I'm human because I can feel, I can feel my broken heart." Is it wrong of me to mock this? Nah. But, hey, at least I know I'm human.

Also, drum roll please...........my legs are once again the same length! Woo hoo dilly.

maladies #1: second opinion and realizations

I went to see a new doctor last week because I have continued to have problems with my hips since a series of three surgeries conducted over three years (2002-2005) to correct a disorder termed coxa saltans (a.k.a. snapping hip). Due to the rarity of the syndrome, there is no specified effective treatment method.

My previous doctor (an orthopaedic surgeon) was great, but given his profession and my lack of response to "conservative treatments," he opted with the surgical route. He told me to do stretches and yoga in an effort to continue my recovery. Well, that was apparently wrong and those courses of action have made things worse. I don't exhibit symptoms of the original problem (at least not to such a noticeable degree), but there is a myriad of other problems that have sprung up.

My pelvis is out of alignment, causing one of my legs to be longer than the other. Oh happy day. It is a surprising realization to know that your previously symmetrical legs have become lopsided. I am now paranoid that I have been slowly transitioning toward some sort of gangsta walk for the past two years but that everyone has been too nice to tell me. Wait...let me rephrase that...too nice or that they enjoy mocking me behind my back too much to tell me that I've been walking with a Quasimodo limp and a gangsta lean. Anyway, tomorrow afternoon's chiropractic appointment should correct that ailment.

My new doctor has prescribed physical therapy to include "aggressive adductor, glute, and abdominal strengthening" to try to keep my bones in place and to tighten muscles in an attempt to keep them from snapping willy-nilly wherever the fuck they want. The soonest I can get in for that treatment is the end of August. Until then I have been given a list of activities of which I am to avoid. Pretty much the only thing not on the list is walking. Yay for walking! I'll keep you posted.

brush with creativity

I would like to share a link to some amazing Photoshop brushes, which I use when I update my mastheads. Go to http://www.designfruit.com/ to nab them for yourselves.

I recently used them on a friend's banner at http://www.smalltownme.blogspot.com/. While you're there, check out her posts (she's well worth the read).

For the rest of my headings (of which there are a couple that I don't like to claim), go to http://www.iamtrish.blogspot.com/. There are a few there that have yet to make an appearance on this site, so you're getting a sneak preview.

charitable summer

Today I awoke to the man angrily sifting through our closets. Apparently, he has "misplaced" his social security card, which he needs to submit to his new employers. This requirement angers the man because as a US citizen, why should he have to submit to having his social security card copied and kept on file? Shouldn't his selective service card work in it's place? What different does one scrap of paper make to the system?

I don't really see that this would be any kind of inconvenience on a normal day, a day when the man wasn't throwing a fit because he "can't find anything in this damn house." To be honest, the man's filing system consists of Rubbermaid totes and an old Five Star binder. This leaves something to be desired. What is desired is knowing where the hell his social security card is so I don't have to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to a feisty man frantically searching for his social security card like a squirrel strung out on crack looking for the last acorn he planted before winter.

This search is prompting the man to do some reorganizing. I LOVE reorganizing. I like putting things into boxes, armed with my label maker and a tote full of file folders. The man is also going through all of his clothes and will be tossing or donating the things he does not wear (which consists of 85% of his wardrobe). I, too, will be getting rid of my unloved clothing. I can still wear the same clothes I wore in the eighth grade so I have held on to a number of pieces that I wouldn't dream of putting on my body for the simple reason that "they still fit and you never know when you might need a glow-in-the-dark alien t-shirt that reads Take me to Your Band Leader (which I received as a gift from an aunt when I was twelve)."

So, as you may have guessed, I will be spending the weekend going through boxes. I've never completely moved into the house because the roommate and the man already filled the house with their belongings prior to my arrival. I have a number of totes filled with random junk still sitting in my old bedroom at my parents' house. I've already purged a number of crates, but there are still many left to be sifted through. My goal for the weekend is to create a more functional space in the office where I can actually work. The hope is that we will also be donating some of the furniture we have been "gifted" from Nick's well-meaning grandparents. I may be including a pictorial for your viewing pleasure.

realizations

I visited my parents two weekends ago and found a cd holder containing all the cds I used to listen to the "first time the man and I dated," which was in winter/spring/summer 2002. I was working for my parents' business and listened to cds from the moment I woke up until I went to sleep. I listened to the same cds in the car and on the four-hour commutes to visit the man. Let's just say that I annoyed anyone who happened to be in my presence because they were required to listen to my rotation of music. I had to burn an additional copy of each disc so that I could have one in the car and one for at home/work. Back to the found cds - they were the copies that I had buried in a drawer at the end of the summer when the man and I parted ways.

I must admit that I was the one who decided to, in a complete act of cowardice, end things by cutting off all contact. This wasn't too difficult because we lived in different states and I was starting my senior year of college. I had been in 20-year-old "love" with the man, but the timing was wrong and I was in many ways too immature to behave in a healthier way. I decided that a clean break was needed before some event occurred to take the decision out of my hands. Long story shorter, the "breakup" was very hard on me and I haven't listened to any of that music since then. Until now. Even though we've been dating again for somewhere between 2.5 and 3 years, I am only now able to stomach listening to the music that reminded me of the bad place I had been in at the end of that summer - and the subsequent mistake of the next relationship into which I leapt.

Back to the present. Now, in my new car, I have all six cds on rotation and listen to them daily without regret. I can now see that the man and I would never be in such a good place now if we hadn't split up then. I did a lot of growing up in the two years (nearly to the day) that we weren't in each other's lives and I can see that ending things was the most responsible decision I could've made. Perhaps by not acting like a civilized adult and discussing things with him then, I left an opening for us to begin speaking years later.

I'm happy to say hello again to the cd collection that I kept buried for nearly five years. This is my "new" summer 2007 playlist (previously titled "Summer '02"):

Atticus: Dragging the Lake (various artists)
Blink-182: Cheshire Cat
Blink-182: Buddha
Blink-182: Dude Ranch
Blink-182: Enema of State
Blink-182: Take off your Pants and Jacket

new office

I have a new office at work - an office with a large window TO THE OUTSIDE! Yes, that statement does require all caps. My previous, quite spacious office had two gigantic windows with a view to the inside - a view to a community area surrounded by other offices. Oh, but I could see outside windows from my huge office, just past the cubicles ten yards away, if I stood just right and contorted myself into a crookedy position. I didn't do this quite often because I was caught once by a passerby who probably thought I was either having a seizure or practicing office calisthenics. There were blinds on those two windows (that I suppose were installed to maintain the illusion of privacy), but if you have windows to the inside people expect that you allow them to view unobstructed into your work area. But now, in my smaller office with a view of the parking lot and landscaping, I can shut out the stares of the nosy nellies.

You perverts out there (you know who you are), you are probably thinking that I can look up porn on company time now that I don't have to worry about people snooping all up in my biz-nass. But, no, you degenerate freak...just because you like to peruse sites that tout big busty babes doesn't mean that the rest of us suck up company time that way. Also, I work for a religious institution where it is quite possible that I would be eternally damned if I were to misuse work hours in such a way and I don't think a few cheap thrills is worth an eternal dance with Beelzebub.

Anyway, today is my first day in my new office and thus far I have been extra productive. I actually think it is because my door is closed and people can't tell if I'm here. I've been so productive without the drop-in time sucks, in fact, that I am able to take a coffee break to e-mail in this post. What a thrill to actually be able to take a well-deserved break and to spend it toeing the line of prohibited computer usage by updating my blog. Oh, I'm a power hungry danger glutton now that I'm in my new digs. Mwah ha ha.

Note: for those of you who do not know this, I do not have Internet access at my home due to the unfortunate "dial up only" availability in my area. Thank you coffee shops and your wireless service. I am a usual patron of th Muddy Moose coffee shop and their Internet connectivity.

updates

As of today, Monday, July 16, 2007, the following things have not happened:

• the sky has not fallen
• the roommate has not moved out, nor is he planning to
• my office has not become fully-staffed
• the mystery plant I transplanted has not shown its identity
• I have not completed my thesis
• Cat Named Jack has not grown out of the "kitten stage"
• Cat Named Jack and Jammer have not become friends
• Orpheus (my beta fish) has not died
• the man and I have not taken a real vacation, or even a fake one
• I have not convinced my friend Kristen to move back to WI
• I have not won the lottery
• I have not gotten rid of the furniture that we have been "gifted"
• birds have not stopped shitting on my car on a daily basis
• I have not been back to MN
• I have not been promoted
• much to the dismay of my family, I am neither engaged nor married
• I have not been struck by even the smallest desire to produce offspring
• I have not partied like it was '99 since it was '99

err on the side of calling your roommate an asshole?

The house is now a place of discord and overwhelming tension. Apparently, the man has finally had enough of the lazy fatbody lying on the couch day after day after day. For months we've viewed the fatbody roommate not as an equal in terms of household actions, but rather as our mentally handicapped, 6'5", 300 lb. child. We would clean up after him, walk around turning off lights and appliances behind him, and deal with his annoying ramblings about how he "could have been a member of the "genius club" had his IQ been 10 points higher." Oh yes, he has said that. I'm not sure how an online Tickle IQ test could get you into a genius club, or if said genius club even exists, but I can tell you that hearing those words come out of the mouth of a guy who may or may not have even graduated from high school is quite a trip.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. The man blew up at the lazy fatbody roommate Monday night. The verbal beating began just in time to keep me from watching Big Love, which was quite irritating. I'm not condoning the man's behavior because I don't believe much productivity can come about from a verbal assault on a man with ten times less mental capacity for rational thought. The man didn't mince words in telling fatbody that he should move out. As of yet, two days later, no sign of moving has been exhibited and the man has been completely ignoring fatbody's existence.

As you can probably glean from my post regarding my new vehicle, I have a car payment in addition to my other bills. Now is not the time for us to be going halfsies on all bills, or rather, now is not the time for me to be upping my allotted bill-paying budget. Yes, we will probably be saving a lot of money for natural gas and electricity, but will it be enough that I can still afford HBO, or satellite tv at all? Now that I've become spoiled with my extended cable package, I don't know if I can go back to network channels only.

Only time will tell if the roommate actually takes the not-so-subtle hint and decides to move out. Until then I will wish that I had grown up in a less civilized family that was full of tension and yelling...perhaps if I had not been spoiled with a happy upbringing I would have the basic skill set to handle the yelling and tension and not behave like a frightened child hiding in a closet waiting for her parents to quit fighting. No, I didn't hide in a closet, but I did call my friend Pam to keep her apprised of the situation in case the roommate got his fat ass off the couch and decided to kill us in our sleep.

brush that mayo off your shoulder

I went to Summerfest in Milwaukee this past Saturday to see a few bands with my best friend from high school (Pam) and two of her siblings. We saw Live, Papa Roach, and Guster. Papa Roach was great, Guster was not. I'm not saying that I don't like Guster, but I am saying that if you are going to see a live show outside in the summer, you probably don't want to listen to music that makes you want to do any of the following (all of which listening to a few songs by Guster made me want to do):

• huddle in the fetal position while sobbing and rocking back and forth because of the pain...oh the pain of being a little emo person alone in the big, bad world
• become a cutter (though all I had was a cheap, plastic beer cup and my car keys, neither of which is a good cutting instrument) because of all the sadness of past relationships gone sour and the knowledge that despite anything we do, we all die alone...alone without a friend, and all we will have is depressing music reminding us that we all suck
• wail because I can't even become a cutter...because of the lack of sharp objects in this big, bad cruel world

After leaving Pam's brother at Guster, we went to Live and Papa Roach. Both were good, but Papa Roach was much better.

I became hungry and I ate half of a sub, all while balancing two beers in one hand. Somehow I managed to get mayo all over my shoulder. Yes, that takes talent. When you don't even realize that you have globs of mayo on your bare shoulder, that should probably be a sign that you don't need to drink the two beers you have precariously perched in one hand. But, you can't be a waster in a society such as ours. If I learned anything from listening to Guster, it is that the apocalypse is bound to come at any moment, and if it is going to happen, I'd prefer to be completely drunk at the end, so I drank those two beers despite already being plastered.

Oh, and you know you have a good friend when they are willing to wipe mayo off your shoulder all the while mocking you for being a cheap, sloppy, mayo-drenched drunk. Thanks!

i made a baby

Okay, so maybe not a human baby...and maybe I didn't make it...but it is mine and it is my baby. Welcome Fifi into the world: Fifi was born in 2006, but I only adopted her yesterday. She is Liquid Gray Clearcoat Metallic (as you can see from the above photo). Isn't she pretty! She wasn't cheap, but adoptions never are these days. At least I didn't have to travel overseas to do it though.

Fifi is 168.5 inches long and weighs 2632 lbs. She's a little younger than I was looking for, and she comes equipped with a number of fancy extras, which I didn't need...but come on, it's not her fault that she's pretty.

Anyway, welcome to the family!