Friday, June 29, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
Fans
One more post about the Red Sox and then I'll be quiet about them. For a little bit, at least.
Petco Park was packed with Red Sox fans all weekend. Everywhere you looked, the Fenway Faithful were in full force. When they started chanting "Let's go Red Sox!", I almost believed I was back in Boston.
On Sunday, I was seated a few rows behind a man with the Boston 'B' tattooed on his arm. The couple behind me was horrified. "Get a life, man," they said.
And that's when I knew I wasn't in Boston. Apparently, Padres fans - even the season ticket holders - have interests aside from baseball.
How about that.
Petco Park was packed with Red Sox fans all weekend. Everywhere you looked, the Fenway Faithful were in full force. When they started chanting "Let's go Red Sox!", I almost believed I was back in Boston.
On Sunday, I was seated a few rows behind a man with the Boston 'B' tattooed on his arm. The couple behind me was horrified. "Get a life, man," they said.
And that's when I knew I wasn't in Boston. Apparently, Padres fans - even the season ticket holders - have interests aside from baseball.
How about that.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Food
I heard somewhere that when it comes to food, humans are wired to eat whatever they see.
Or maybe that was just my own brain telling me to eat that slice of cheesecake that was laid out so conveniently at the Sox game tonight.
As many of you know, being a Summer Associate involves a good amount of eating. If someone were to ask me to describe my summer experience, I'd start by describing lunch. Then I'd talk about the firm's various social events, where food and drink are in great supply. And then, if I still had time, I might talk a little about the work that I do. (And, I do, in fact, work. I promise.) But eating is the dominant activity, and despite my better efforts, I have yielded to temptation more often than I'd like. Which is always. I don't order dessert at lunch, but when it's laid out for me, on a plate, with a fork next to it...game over.
I have struggled with body image my entire life. In fourth grade, I wished I were as thin as Lauren, the thinnest girl in my class. You'll note that I don't write that I've struggled with my weight, but my body image. That means that even when I was skinny, as I have been for most of my life, I didn't know it.
Then came college and bad food. I put on a lot of weight, but thanks to my Rah-rah-WOMEN!! experience at Brown, I tried to ignore it. Enlightened women, especially Brown women, were not supposed to be vulnerable to such silly pressures as the pressure to be thin. We were supposed to win everyone over with our intellect. Problem was, I didn't understand that the dining room was also a place to show off my smarts, because eating that third piece of cake is actually very dumb.
Now that I'm in the land of Fat, Sugar, and Other Carbs, I sometimes dread my social events because I know so much food will be on hand and I'll want to eat it. The last several times I have fallen prey to food-lust, [FN1] I've gone to the gym the next day and worked out especially hard. That's no good, either, because my joints and my tendons can't handle all my guilt.
And so I'm back to fourth grade, and wishing I were like Lauren.
-------
FN1. It's not hunger. I'm talking about when my stomach is full but still I want more.
Or maybe that was just my own brain telling me to eat that slice of cheesecake that was laid out so conveniently at the Sox game tonight.
As many of you know, being a Summer Associate involves a good amount of eating. If someone were to ask me to describe my summer experience, I'd start by describing lunch. Then I'd talk about the firm's various social events, where food and drink are in great supply. And then, if I still had time, I might talk a little about the work that I do. (And, I do, in fact, work. I promise.) But eating is the dominant activity, and despite my better efforts, I have yielded to temptation more often than I'd like. Which is always. I don't order dessert at lunch, but when it's laid out for me, on a plate, with a fork next to it...game over.
I have struggled with body image my entire life. In fourth grade, I wished I were as thin as Lauren, the thinnest girl in my class. You'll note that I don't write that I've struggled with my weight, but my body image. That means that even when I was skinny, as I have been for most of my life, I didn't know it.
Then came college and bad food. I put on a lot of weight, but thanks to my Rah-rah-WOMEN!! experience at Brown, I tried to ignore it. Enlightened women, especially Brown women, were not supposed to be vulnerable to such silly pressures as the pressure to be thin. We were supposed to win everyone over with our intellect. Problem was, I didn't understand that the dining room was also a place to show off my smarts, because eating that third piece of cake is actually very dumb.
Now that I'm in the land of Fat, Sugar, and Other Carbs, I sometimes dread my social events because I know so much food will be on hand and I'll want to eat it. The last several times I have fallen prey to food-lust, [FN1] I've gone to the gym the next day and worked out especially hard. That's no good, either, because my joints and my tendons can't handle all my guilt.
And so I'm back to fourth grade, and wishing I were like Lauren.
-------
FN1. It's not hunger. I'm talking about when my stomach is full but still I want more.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Shout-outs
...to Boababa because despite being Such a Mess, he's an exceptionally good sport.
...to MapGrrrl because I had lots of fun during her visit.
...to Sis because she sent me an article today about how I'm smarter than she is.
...to the Abstract Concept because he just got an AMAZING upgrade to his sound system. (Ask him, he'll tell you it's AMAZING.)
...and to Red Beard, because he's the last great hope of the Republic.
...to MapGrrrl because I had lots of fun during her visit.
...to Sis because she sent me an article today about how I'm smarter than she is.
...to the Abstract Concept because he just got an AMAZING upgrade to his sound system. (Ask him, he'll tell you it's AMAZING.)
...and to Red Beard, because he's the last great hope of the Republic.
The Red Sox are coming! The Red Sox are coming!
And I couldn't be more excited.
I'm sure my fellow summer associates will be thrilled when it is over so I can stop talking about it.
Unless it is FANTASTIC and I don't shut up about it for the rest of the summer. Now that's a sure way to an offer: annoying everyone.
I'm sure my fellow summer associates will be thrilled when it is over so I can stop talking about it.
Unless it is FANTASTIC and I don't shut up about it for the rest of the summer. Now that's a sure way to an offer: annoying everyone.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Smelly Abstract Concept
I think the Abstract Concept had a lot to do with my learning not to expect good manners from people. Like when he makes fun of me on my blog.
(Hello, Abstract Concept. I love you more!)
(Hello, Abstract Concept. I love you more!)
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Three to tango
MapGrrrl and Boababa came to visit! MG and Boababa are friends from college, and I hadn't seen either of them in a couple years. MG was my partner in residential-counseling crime, and Boababa helped me swindle unsuspecting undergrads into volunteering for Habitat. MG was in town for a conference, and Boababa drove down from LA. We did the regular, catchy-up things like talk, eat, and drink, but then we danced.
MG and Boababa are both avid dancers. MG's gotten into swing dancing with her fiance, and Boababa's gotten into tango because...he wants a fiancee? Anyway, they found a studio where the lessons were free, so the three of us went to tango.
The class was taught by an elderly Asian couple, small in stature but large in personality. The other students in the class were two young couples and a woman by herself. The couples amused me because they obviously weren't there on account of the boyfriends. The boyfriends were very good sports, and they tried valiantly to learn the steps, but I couldn't stop thinking to myself, "Huh. I'd never make the Captain take tango lessons with me." [FN1]
After the class ended, we went to the studio's weekly tango party, where we showed off the three steps we just had been taught. It was tons of fun. Boababa might have crowded my feet here and there, and my shoes might just have been a tad inappropriate (open-toed sandals). But there's something just so enjoyable about dressing up for a party and making a total fool of yourself.
[FN1] He's just too tall. We'd look ridiculous trying to tango. Picture it. See? You're laughing.
MG and Boababa are both avid dancers. MG's gotten into swing dancing with her fiance, and Boababa's gotten into tango because...he wants a fiancee? Anyway, they found a studio where the lessons were free, so the three of us went to tango.
The class was taught by an elderly Asian couple, small in stature but large in personality. The other students in the class were two young couples and a woman by herself. The couples amused me because they obviously weren't there on account of the boyfriends. The boyfriends were very good sports, and they tried valiantly to learn the steps, but I couldn't stop thinking to myself, "Huh. I'd never make the Captain take tango lessons with me." [FN1]
After the class ended, we went to the studio's weekly tango party, where we showed off the three steps we just had been taught. It was tons of fun. Boababa might have crowded my feet here and there, and my shoes might just have been a tad inappropriate (open-toed sandals). But there's something just so enjoyable about dressing up for a party and making a total fool of yourself.
[FN1] He's just too tall. We'd look ridiculous trying to tango. Picture it. See? You're laughing.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Conflicted
Apparently, Tiggsy has gotten a little cheeky after her shout-out. I was momentarily conflicted about mentioning her again per the "Comment and you get a mention" rule, but then I remembered that friends are more important than baseball.
So here's your second shout-out. Mwah.
And in unrelated news, I think I will change Scushman's alias to Elite Racer. Because that sounds so much cooler. (Hello, Elite Racer!)
So here's your second shout-out. Mwah.
And in unrelated news, I think I will change Scushman's alias to Elite Racer. Because that sounds so much cooler. (Hello, Elite Racer!)
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
Shout-outs
... to Tiggs, who reads my blog every morning after she checks her Gmail. Thanks, Tiggs!
... to Scushman, because she subscribed to my blog. Wow.
... to Weaver, because his best man toast was one of the best I ever have heard. Really.
... and to Samir, because he made his way back from the boonies just so he could hang with me in Washington.
... to Scushman, because she subscribed to my blog. Wow.
... to Weaver, because his best man toast was one of the best I ever have heard. Really.
... and to Samir, because he made his way back from the boonies just so he could hang with me in Washington.
Weekend wrap-up
The ribbon children sobbed and the minister flubbed the names, but the Bride bounced up the chancel nonetheless. This would not be a wedding of studied perfection. It would be a wedding of unbridled joy.
And what a joyous occasion it was. The afternoon was oppressively hot, but a brief rainstorm passed politely through, staying just long enough to cool down the evening and provide us the most stunning Virginian sunset. The barbecue man fired up his grill and fed us the most delicious, tender, and juicy pulled pork sandwiches and barbecue chicken. The live bluegrass band kept things lively and everyone had a good time. I would do it again. Just not right away. (See below.)
And the rest of the weekend in Washington was even better. The Captain and I drove back up to Georgetown, where we met his enormous little brother the Rookie. The Rookie was in rare form, but he probably doesn't want me to share the details. (Hi, Rookie.) So the Captain and I took a walk, where I was reacquainted with Georgetown and the lush environment (read: oppressive humidity) of the Eastern Seaboard. We covered a lot of ground and ran across some interesting people, namely a homeless man who yelled at me for "[wanting] to be white." I had felt bad for him until he made it personal.
Later, I had a little too much fun at dinner. I can tell you about that in person. But it was great to see Samir and Laskin, and it was even better to witness Laskin's acquisition of digits. Even if she was a crazy.
And the Captain humored me, again, in my insistence to see the panda. (Kaz, that would be the actual panda.) The Rookie wasn't as excited about (read: he was horrified by) the idea of going to the zoo. Which is too bad because he totally missed out.
And what a joyous occasion it was. The afternoon was oppressively hot, but a brief rainstorm passed politely through, staying just long enough to cool down the evening and provide us the most stunning Virginian sunset. The barbecue man fired up his grill and fed us the most delicious, tender, and juicy pulled pork sandwiches and barbecue chicken. The live bluegrass band kept things lively and everyone had a good time. I would do it again. Just not right away. (See below.)
And the rest of the weekend in Washington was even better. The Captain and I drove back up to Georgetown, where we met his enormous little brother the Rookie. The Rookie was in rare form, but he probably doesn't want me to share the details. (Hi, Rookie.) So the Captain and I took a walk, where I was reacquainted with Georgetown and the lush environment (read: oppressive humidity) of the Eastern Seaboard. We covered a lot of ground and ran across some interesting people, namely a homeless man who yelled at me for "[wanting] to be white." I had felt bad for him until he made it personal.
Later, I had a little too much fun at dinner. I can tell you about that in person. But it was great to see Samir and Laskin, and it was even better to witness Laskin's acquisition of digits. Even if she was a crazy.
And the Captain humored me, again, in my insistence to see the panda. (Kaz, that would be the actual panda.) The Rookie wasn't as excited about (read: he was horrified by) the idea of going to the zoo. Which is too bad because he totally missed out.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Travailler
No, I didn't cave and bring my laptop to Virginia after all.
Instead, I'm blogging to you from my lovely host's computer. She is the Bride's next door neighbor, and she is most thoughtful and obliging. Her house is well-appointed and immaculate. She let me use her computer (duh) and help myself to breakfast after she and her husband left for work. She printed out directions to the train station so I can go pick up the Captain. She let me know what time she'd be back from work so all four of us (her, her husband, the Captain, and me) could go over to the wedding together. She laid out about a million towels for me to use.
There is just not enough to be said for good manners and good taste. Chapeau.
So, here I am in Crozet, VA, and what a trip it was to get here. Overnight flight from Cali to Dulles (four hours) , rush hour drive from Dulles to Georgetown (two hours), nap in Georgetown (two hours), cold shower in Georgetown (one nanosecond - the hot water just wasn't running), drive from Georgetown to Crozet (three hours). Then a rehearsal and a rehearsal dinner that I'm not really sure actually happened because I was functioning at 70% capacity. But I do remember the food being fantastic.
[Here's a fun and appropriate tidbit: the root for "travel" is the same as that for travailler, the French word for "to work." How about that.]
Today, I'm hanging out before I go pick up the Captain (I CANNOT WAIT) and head on over to the wedding. If the ceremony is any bit as loving and warm as the mere rehearsal and dinner last night, then I am in for some major good feelings. And crying.
Instead, I'm blogging to you from my lovely host's computer. She is the Bride's next door neighbor, and she is most thoughtful and obliging. Her house is well-appointed and immaculate. She let me use her computer (duh) and help myself to breakfast after she and her husband left for work. She printed out directions to the train station so I can go pick up the Captain. She let me know what time she'd be back from work so all four of us (her, her husband, the Captain, and me) could go over to the wedding together. She laid out about a million towels for me to use.
There is just not enough to be said for good manners and good taste. Chapeau.
So, here I am in Crozet, VA, and what a trip it was to get here. Overnight flight from Cali to Dulles (four hours) , rush hour drive from Dulles to Georgetown (two hours), nap in Georgetown (two hours), cold shower in Georgetown (one nanosecond - the hot water just wasn't running), drive from Georgetown to Crozet (three hours). Then a rehearsal and a rehearsal dinner that I'm not really sure actually happened because I was functioning at 70% capacity. But I do remember the food being fantastic.
[Here's a fun and appropriate tidbit: the root for "travel" is the same as that for travailler, the French word for "to work." How about that.]
Today, I'm hanging out before I go pick up the Captain (I CANNOT WAIT) and head on over to the wedding. If the ceremony is any bit as loving and warm as the mere rehearsal and dinner last night, then I am in for some major good feelings. And crying.
Notes from the Road
A running list of tidbits from my cross-country trip (think of it as a blog in a blog):
1. Next to the baggage claim at Dulles International Airport, an insurance company has advertised, "What's lost can now be found." Clever. But disturbing, because who wants to think her luggage is lost?
2. On the drive to Charlottesville, I passed a restaurant which advertised, "We have crabs."
3. Things move slowly in the south. In San Diego, I'm usually getting out of others' way. But on my drive from Washington to Charlottesville, people were getting out of my way. Who knew that 75mph is speeding?
4. At the rehearsal dinner last night, Kaz asked me who "the panda" was. Well, duh.
5. After making this trip, I now know what love is. Love is taking the red-eye across the country, braving two hours' worth of morning rush hour in D.C., wending my way through rural roads to get to the church, staying coherent during the rehearsal in which I played a very small part, and talking at the rehearsal dinner with the ex-boyfriend who broke my heart. That is what love is. Needless to say, I love both the Bride and the Groom very much.
But I'm totally getting back at them.
1. Next to the baggage claim at Dulles International Airport, an insurance company has advertised, "What's lost can now be found." Clever. But disturbing, because who wants to think her luggage is lost?
2. On the drive to Charlottesville, I passed a restaurant which advertised, "We have crabs."
3. Things move slowly in the south. In San Diego, I'm usually getting out of others' way. But on my drive from Washington to Charlottesville, people were getting out of my way. Who knew that 75mph is speeding?
4. At the rehearsal dinner last night, Kaz asked me who "the panda" was. Well, duh.
5. After making this trip, I now know what love is. Love is taking the red-eye across the country, braving two hours' worth of morning rush hour in D.C., wending my way through rural roads to get to the church, staying coherent during the rehearsal in which I played a very small part, and talking at the rehearsal dinner with the ex-boyfriend who broke my heart. That is what love is. Needless to say, I love both the Bride and the Groom very much.
But I'm totally getting back at them.
Medium news
Mei Xiang looks pregnant. This is "medium" news as opposed to "big" news, because, as the The Washington Post reports, she might not be pregnant. Just because looks like she's pregnant, acts like she's pregnant, and smells like she's pregnant, she might not actually be pregnant. But if she is pregnant, then I fully expect Munch to work her thoroughly geeky connections at the National Zoo to get me in. (Hi, Munch!)
Thanks to Samir Santiago for sending this in. (Hi, Samir!)
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/06/07/AR2007060700479.html
Thanks to Samir Santiago for sending this in. (Hi, Samir!)
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/06/07/AR2007060700479.html
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
On my way to Virginia
I'm going to a wedding! And I'm not bringing my laptop.
Until I get back, think about this: the San Diego Transit Police (i.e., the people who check whether I have a valid ticket on the trolley) carry guns.
Is that really necessary?
Until I get back, think about this: the San Diego Transit Police (i.e., the people who check whether I have a valid ticket on the trolley) carry guns.
Is that really necessary?
Monday, June 4, 2007
Thinking
San Diego is a border town. It's not right on the border, but considering that the trolley I take to work is the same trolley that goes to Tijuana, San Diego is close enough.
Living in this border town, I see a few things I don't usually see in Boston. For one, the men who line up outside the Home Depot every morning are actual people, as opposed to the pictures I usually see in The New York Times. The line makes me sad. The Captain pointed out that the line isn't all bad, because people who need work are getting it and people who need work done are accomplishing it. What makes me sad, though, is when the well runs dry. When do the workers stop waiting? How long do they wait? How often do they wait for nothing? What are they thinking about?
On my way back from the trolley station tonight, a man in his car stopped to ask me about the trolley schedule. He wanted to know if his passenger, a Mexican worker, would be able to ride the trolley back to Tijuana. I told the driver how often the trolley ran in the morning, and where the worker would have to change trains in order to get back to Mexico. It struck me as odd; if the man were willing to drive the worker to the train station, then why not just drive him to the border? It's not that far.
The worker sat silently in the car, watching us privileged Americans discuss how best to deliver him back, away from here.
Photo credit: L. M. Otero/Associated Press
Living in this border town, I see a few things I don't usually see in Boston. For one, the men who line up outside the Home Depot every morning are actual people, as opposed to the pictures I usually see in The New York Times. The line makes me sad. The Captain pointed out that the line isn't all bad, because people who need work are getting it and people who need work done are accomplishing it. What makes me sad, though, is when the well runs dry. When do the workers stop waiting? How long do they wait? How often do they wait for nothing? What are they thinking about?
On my way back from the trolley station tonight, a man in his car stopped to ask me about the trolley schedule. He wanted to know if his passenger, a Mexican worker, would be able to ride the trolley back to Tijuana. I told the driver how often the trolley ran in the morning, and where the worker would have to change trains in order to get back to Mexico. It struck me as odd; if the man were willing to drive the worker to the train station, then why not just drive him to the border? It's not that far.
The worker sat silently in the car, watching us privileged Americans discuss how best to deliver him back, away from here.
Photo credit: L. M. Otero/Associated Press
Various
Hello, Jenski. Hello, Abstract Concept. And hello, Munch, who didn't comment but who did send me a nice email.
Some little things today:
1. On Saturday, two of the summers had us over their apartment, and it was very good times. Have you ever had barbecued chicken that isn't dry? As in, juicy? I thought it impossible, but my fellow summers are culinary magicians. This could be good.
2. At lunch today, I forgot to order my salad dressing on the side. Big mistake. I don't even know if I had any vegetables - my salad was so very Thousand Island.
3. My best friend from high school is getting married in four days. That means, in four days, not only will I get to see him and the Bride embark on a fantastic journey together, but I will get to see both the Captain and the panda. All in the same weekend. I just might explode from the excitement.
Some little things today:
1. On Saturday, two of the summers had us over their apartment, and it was very good times. Have you ever had barbecued chicken that isn't dry? As in, juicy? I thought it impossible, but my fellow summers are culinary magicians. This could be good.
2. At lunch today, I forgot to order my salad dressing on the side. Big mistake. I don't even know if I had any vegetables - my salad was so very Thousand Island.
3. My best friend from high school is getting married in four days. That means, in four days, not only will I get to see him and the Bride embark on a fantastic journey together, but I will get to see both the Captain and the panda. All in the same weekend. I just might explode from the excitement.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Goopy
Today I got a massage. It was...okay. I went to the guy's house, which probably wasn't the smartest thing, given that I am a single woman in a new city. But it turned out fine, except for the two Chinese Cresteds that kept jumping up and down and onto the table - even while I was on it. I was too polite to ask the guy to put the dogs in another room, but I probably won't be going back to him. (Second Roomie, the one who's into jiu jitsu, found him through her gym.) During the massage, the guy slathered on so much lotion that when everything was said and done, I was goopy. It is now on the insides of my clothes. Yuck.
Later on, I went to get a mani/pedi, because hey, the Bride and Groom are getting married next week. The manicurist also slathered on gobs of lotion. She put so much on one arm I thought she was going to move half to the other arm. Nope. All that goop was just for one arm. When she went to the second arm, I cut her off after an initial squirt, but even then, that was goopy.
Are San Diegans just a goopy people?
Later on, I went to get a mani/pedi, because hey, the Bride and Groom are getting married next week. The manicurist also slathered on gobs of lotion. She put so much on one arm I thought she was going to move half to the other arm. Nope. All that goop was just for one arm. When she went to the second arm, I cut her off after an initial squirt, but even then, that was goopy.
Are San Diegans just a goopy people?
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