There's this podcast I listen to on occasion called Stuff You Should Know. I like it. Two nerdy guys (ok, but totally nerdy in a kinda hot way) explain concepts and activities that on the surface may seen kinda off or boring but usually turn out to be pretty interesting. What got me hooked was the one about ticks. What got me really hooked was the one about biospeleology. Who knew that I'd find the one about cave biology interesting?
Anyhow, sometimes they go off on little tangents talking about topics only slightly related to the featured subject matter. Once such tangent was about the term Cuppa Joe. Doing some half-ass research I found that the term cuppa joe has a few supposed origins. The one that popped up the most was that the secretary of the navy during WW1 named Josephus Daniels banned alcohol on navy ships. The sailors started calling their coffee a cuppa joe as a result.
That's not the explanation I got from the SYSK guys, and I like their version better so that's the one I'm going to say is true, simply because I like it better. Brittish drink tea. Americans drink coffee. Brits in WW2 started calling coffee "joe" after GI Joe. Cuppa Joe. Of course the SYSK guys explained it better, more colorfully and with a few more words than me, but you get the idea.
My doctor gave me a list of things that I can and can't eat now that I'm eating and drinking for two. In my opinion there are some smart things on the list as well of some stupid things, but that's another blog post for another time. This one's about coffee.
According to the medical practice I go to, I'm allowed to have up to 200 mg of caffeine a day. I started thinking about my caffeine consumption. Some days it's more, some days it's less, but in a nutshell, the below describes my coffee drinking habits.
My pre-pregnancy coffee drinking habit
If Hubby or The Girl make coffee before I get out of bed I'll pour myself a cup, take a big gulp, leave my cup on the counter or coffee table, get ready for work, realize I poured myself a cup of coffee, go get it, find it cold, thus undrinkable, give it a warm up, take a gulp, put it down and forget about it until I get home and see my almost full cup and I think "oh, I forgot about my coffee."
If Hubby or The Girl do not make coffee, I go to the little bakery across the street from my muni stop and get an 8oz cup of the worst brown water I've ever had, thinking it'll get me through until I get some real coffee in me. I take a few sips then pour out the rest when the train comes.
Whether I have coffee at home or before I get on the train, I make myself a cup when I get to work. I have a few sips, then get to working. I forget about my coffee, it gets cold and I throw it away.
In the afternoon I make myself a cuppa tea, usually darjeeling. I set it on my desk. I let it seep too long and I have to pour it out, or I steep it just the right amount, drink half, then forget about it, it gets cold and I dump it.
All in all, I think I get about 1/2 cup, if that, of coffee in me a day.
I think my pre-pregnancy coffee drinking habit is just fine and I don't need to make any changes.
..... sweeping generalizations stemming from my experiences and imagination ..... Warning: contains much that is apocryphal - or at least wildly inaccurate.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
The Slumber Party - A Dream
They say that when you're pregnant you have some interesting dreams. Here's one I had this morning.
I went to The Girl's friend's house to pick her up from a slumber party. When I arrived, her friend's house was totally trashed by the kids at the party. I started helping out by cleaning the room where The Girl had slept. While cleaning up her stuff I saw my $11. I went into the living room to talk to someone for a minute, then when I went back into the room where The Girl had slept, her stuff was all cleaned up and my $11 was gone. I went into the kitchen. I saw my $11 on a shelf. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. Someone saw me do it and thought I was stealing, so I put it back. Then The Girl's friend's dad starting yelling at his two Brazillian sons to get into the kitchen and help. They set a little mini factory in the kitchen and started making fudge, all kinds, even savory fudge like sun-dried tomato fudge. Then Magic Johnson came up to me and told me that being pregnant has really messed up my skin, then I noticed I had broken out with a fresh garden of acne all over my face.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Ritual Rain in Kapalakiko
I know this to be true: It never rains on hula night.
Don't ask me how. Just take me at my word. I know a lot of strange things and that which I don't know is rarely filled in with inaccuracies; hyperbole for sure, but never lies.
It may rain day of. It may rain after I get home. It may even rain during class, but it's never rained going to class or coming home - until last Wednesday.
As I was driving to class in the rain I thought 'this has got to be a sign.' Turns out it was.
Last class Kumu talked about (and I'm paraphrasing, not using his words exactly) that we've kind of found ourselves in a hula rut. Week after week we follow the same pattern; we go to class, warm up, dance, have table time, dance and then we go home. We have become lazy about showing up on time. We aren't fully present while in class.
What was once ritual has become routine.
I totally agree. Sometimes I miss class because I have a legitimate reason - I'm away for work or Hubby has a deadline on a story he has to get out and can't watch the kiddies. Sometimes I don't have a good excuse and just feel like playing hooky or watching The Middle. Sometimes my absence falls into a gray area of legitimate. I spend so much time at work and sometimes have overnight trips that I feel guilty for not spending enough time with my kids. Hubby says it's fine and I should go to class, but sometimes I just can't tear myself away from my babies.
Missing class hurts. It hurts me because I miss out on a night of practice, a night of instruction, a night of spending time with a great group of people I wouldn't ever have gotten to know were it not for hula. Not going to class hurts the rest of the class as well. I notice when people are missing. I'm sad when people leave. We need to be able to feed off of each other and dance as one. We can't do that when parts of us are missing. Going to class to learn from Kumu doesn't just make us better dancers. It makes us stronger as a class.
It's something I've come to count on. It's something I've come to crave. There's an intangible "something" I miss when I'm not in class.
Last Wednesday's rain washed away the routine and gave us the opportunity to start anew.
Going forward I'm excited to be able to say "it never rains on hula night, except for that one time . . . . "
Don't ask me how. Just take me at my word. I know a lot of strange things and that which I don't know is rarely filled in with inaccuracies; hyperbole for sure, but never lies.
It may rain day of. It may rain after I get home. It may even rain during class, but it's never rained going to class or coming home - until last Wednesday.
As I was driving to class in the rain I thought 'this has got to be a sign.' Turns out it was.
Last class Kumu talked about (and I'm paraphrasing, not using his words exactly) that we've kind of found ourselves in a hula rut. Week after week we follow the same pattern; we go to class, warm up, dance, have table time, dance and then we go home. We have become lazy about showing up on time. We aren't fully present while in class.
What was once ritual has become routine.
I totally agree. Sometimes I miss class because I have a legitimate reason - I'm away for work or Hubby has a deadline on a story he has to get out and can't watch the kiddies. Sometimes I don't have a good excuse and just feel like playing hooky or watching The Middle. Sometimes my absence falls into a gray area of legitimate. I spend so much time at work and sometimes have overnight trips that I feel guilty for not spending enough time with my kids. Hubby says it's fine and I should go to class, but sometimes I just can't tear myself away from my babies.
Missing class hurts. It hurts me because I miss out on a night of practice, a night of instruction, a night of spending time with a great group of people I wouldn't ever have gotten to know were it not for hula. Not going to class hurts the rest of the class as well. I notice when people are missing. I'm sad when people leave. We need to be able to feed off of each other and dance as one. We can't do that when parts of us are missing. Going to class to learn from Kumu doesn't just make us better dancers. It makes us stronger as a class.
It's something I've come to count on. It's something I've come to crave. There's an intangible "something" I miss when I'm not in class.
Last Wednesday's rain washed away the routine and gave us the opportunity to start anew.
Going forward I'm excited to be able to say "it never rains on hula night, except for that one time . . . . "
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Grains and Tony Bordain - A Dream
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| * |
* I took this picture of Tony Bordain. It was at a restaurant in the complex by the building I work in. A coworker and I sat outside the restaurant and listened to him answer questions from an audience who paid a lot of money to eat a meal in a restaurant at the same time as him then listen to him speak. My co-worker and I brought our own lunches and saw the whole thing for free.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Hey Pablo! -- a dream last night
I had a dream about Paul Rodriguez last night. When I mentioned it to hubby he said "that's enough, I don't need to hear any more." I tried to tell him it wasn't that kind of dream, but he didn't want to hear about it. I told him anyways. He turned up the volume on the TV but I kept talking. The TV has a finite volume. I don't.
We were in San Francisco but the location was sort of like a cross between The Embarcadero around where Red's Java House is and the parking lot at Palo Verde and Stearns in Long Beach, but not how it looks now. It looked more like when the old Taco Bell was there and before Tom's Liquor was razed. I was walking with this woman who used to work in my office. Don't know why she was in my dream. We never really talked to each other. Our departments hardly ever crossed paths. We were friendly to each other, but didn't hang out or anything. Anyways, this woman and I were walking through the weird parking lot and I spotted Paul Rodriquez. I said "Hey, you're Paul Rodriquez, what are you doing here." He said "Yes, I am. I'm making a commercial for El Faro." Then he walked over to a group of men and started talking to them. As he was walking over I yelled "Dude, you should do a commercial for Gordo's. They make way better burritos. Hey, can I get a picture?" Then he totally ignored me. He was talking to the El Faro ad guys and didn't want to talk to me because he thought I was dissing El Faro, which I wasn't. I just like Gordo's better.
We were in San Francisco but the location was sort of like a cross between The Embarcadero around where Red's Java House is and the parking lot at Palo Verde and Stearns in Long Beach, but not how it looks now. It looked more like when the old Taco Bell was there and before Tom's Liquor was razed. I was walking with this woman who used to work in my office. Don't know why she was in my dream. We never really talked to each other. Our departments hardly ever crossed paths. We were friendly to each other, but didn't hang out or anything. Anyways, this woman and I were walking through the weird parking lot and I spotted Paul Rodriquez. I said "Hey, you're Paul Rodriquez, what are you doing here." He said "Yes, I am. I'm making a commercial for El Faro." Then he walked over to a group of men and started talking to them. As he was walking over I yelled "Dude, you should do a commercial for Gordo's. They make way better burritos. Hey, can I get a picture?" Then he totally ignored me. He was talking to the El Faro ad guys and didn't want to talk to me because he thought I was dissing El Faro, which I wasn't. I just like Gordo's better.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Cats, Banana Sam and Taking the Kiddies at Their Word
When The Girl was about 3 years old I heard her ask from the other room "Mom, can I be a cat?" Thinking that she was going to crawl along the floor, saying meow, rubbing the side of her face against the furniture and pretending to scratch the furniture, I said "Sure, you can be a cat."
A few minutes later I found her sitting on the living room floor with an orange Sharpie in her hand, drawing stripes all along her arms, legs and belly.
I had only myself to blame. I did, in fact, say she could be a cat.
Yesterday Hubby had a similar experience. The Boy LOVES wearing his backpack. Usually it's full of crayons, hotwheels and various things from the house he finds interesting. As Hubby and The Boy were leaving the house yesterday The Boy said "Daddy, I have monkeys in my backpack." Hubby, thinking The Boy's statement was just the odd chatter of a 3 year old boy, dismissed it. The Boy has been very interested in the story of Banana Sam, and that he was returned to the SF Zoo in a backpack. Perhaps Hubby was thinking The Boy was referring to that incident.
As it turns out, The Boy did, in fact, have monkeys in his backpack; two of them to be precise. He had stolen the salt and pepper shakers off the kitchen table. Now his backpack and all its contents are sufficiently seasoned.
A few minutes later I found her sitting on the living room floor with an orange Sharpie in her hand, drawing stripes all along her arms, legs and belly.
I had only myself to blame. I did, in fact, say she could be a cat.
Yesterday Hubby had a similar experience. The Boy LOVES wearing his backpack. Usually it's full of crayons, hotwheels and various things from the house he finds interesting. As Hubby and The Boy were leaving the house yesterday The Boy said "Daddy, I have monkeys in my backpack." Hubby, thinking The Boy's statement was just the odd chatter of a 3 year old boy, dismissed it. The Boy has been very interested in the story of Banana Sam, and that he was returned to the SF Zoo in a backpack. Perhaps Hubby was thinking The Boy was referring to that incident.
As it turns out, The Boy did, in fact, have monkeys in his backpack; two of them to be precise. He had stolen the salt and pepper shakers off the kitchen table. Now his backpack and all its contents are sufficiently seasoned.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Lisa
The Boy has a girlfriend and her name is Lisa.
Lisa is 1 year old but she's older than The Boy. She has red hair and blue eyes. Her dad's name is Stoodoo. Her favorite color is white. She doesn't have any pets.
I don't know where the idea of Lisa came from, but it seems to make him happy.
Lisa is 1 year old but she's older than The Boy. She has red hair and blue eyes. Her dad's name is Stoodoo. Her favorite color is white. She doesn't have any pets.
I don't know where the idea of Lisa came from, but it seems to make him happy.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
My Least Favorite Hula
Everyone hula dancer has her own "go-to" dance. Y'know, the one that if asked to dance hula they would say OK I'll dance "(insert favorite hula dance here)." And, y'know, I'm guessing everyone has a hula they really don't like to dance.
Last night towards the end of class Kumu pulled out a makua lua hoʻohiluhilu kula (my attempt at translating 'golden oldie'), Papalina Lahilahi. Then we danced some we learned in the last few years like Waikaloa, plus we danced some that we learned more recently like Pua 'Ahihi and Pua Lililehua.
I started thinking about all the dances I've learned during my time with my halau. Some of them I really really love. Some of them . . . . I was going to say 'some of them I don't like so much' but stopped myself. Some of them I need to get to know a bit better.
It would be wrong to say I don't like some of the dances. What is more appropriate is to say I don't know them well enough, I haven't practiced them enough. The reason I think I don't like some of the dances is because I don't know them. I don't have them pa'a. If I knew them, I'd like them.
I can't miss any weeks when we're learning a new hula. I need the first night when Kumu hands out the paper with the mele, goes through the lyrics and explains the kaona. I need each week we learn a new verse or two. If I miss it, even when I learn it later, every time we dance it I think "I missed the week we learned this" and it trips me up every single time. (Example - "i ka hunehune i ke kai" I missed the first week we started learning this dance. I can do it now, but I still think "i missed that week." every single time that line comes up.)
Those are the hulas I think I don't like, but not because the hulas are unlikeable. I don't like to dance them because I don't know them.
Then there are some dances that have particular steps that I just can't seem to get. I am in class, learning every single verse in class the first time it's taught and I still can't get it. Once in a while there are little glimpses of hope when I do get a particular step down. I think "I've got it. I love this hula now" then the next time comes around that we dance this particular hula and I miss the step. Like in the 'auana version of Aia la o Pele i Hawai`i in one part we go from huli hema to hula akau to huli hema and 'oniu. I can't keep up in that verse.
I know all it takes is practice and those hulas I need to get to know a bit better and I will become great friends.
Last night towards the end of class Kumu pulled out a makua lua hoʻohiluhilu kula (my attempt at translating 'golden oldie'), Papalina Lahilahi. Then we danced some we learned in the last few years like Waikaloa, plus we danced some that we learned more recently like Pua 'Ahihi and Pua Lililehua.
I started thinking about all the dances I've learned during my time with my halau. Some of them I really really love. Some of them . . . . I was going to say 'some of them I don't like so much' but stopped myself. Some of them I need to get to know a bit better.
It would be wrong to say I don't like some of the dances. What is more appropriate is to say I don't know them well enough, I haven't practiced them enough. The reason I think I don't like some of the dances is because I don't know them. I don't have them pa'a. If I knew them, I'd like them.
I can't miss any weeks when we're learning a new hula. I need the first night when Kumu hands out the paper with the mele, goes through the lyrics and explains the kaona. I need each week we learn a new verse or two. If I miss it, even when I learn it later, every time we dance it I think "I missed the week we learned this" and it trips me up every single time. (Example - "i ka hunehune i ke kai" I missed the first week we started learning this dance. I can do it now, but I still think "i missed that week." every single time that line comes up.)
Those are the hulas I think I don't like, but not because the hulas are unlikeable. I don't like to dance them because I don't know them.
Then there are some dances that have particular steps that I just can't seem to get. I am in class, learning every single verse in class the first time it's taught and I still can't get it. Once in a while there are little glimpses of hope when I do get a particular step down. I think "I've got it. I love this hula now" then the next time comes around that we dance this particular hula and I miss the step. Like in the 'auana version of Aia la o Pele i Hawai`i in one part we go from huli hema to hula akau to huli hema and 'oniu. I can't keep up in that verse.
I know all it takes is practice and those hulas I need to get to know a bit better and I will become great friends.
I Never Could Get The Hang of Thursdays And I'm Blaming The Stupid Cat
I hate being annoyed awake. I hate when the first words out of my mouth in the morning are negative. It just sets the worst tone for the day. I'm blaming the cat.
Stupid cat.
This morning, right before my alarm was scheduled to go off, the stupid cat started playing with something loud and crunchy. Batting it around the hallway, banging into walls. Stupid cat. I hate the tone it set for the day. Then The Kiddies woke up way too early and started fighting about stupid things and crying and making annoying noises. I stomped out into the living room and snapped at them. I felt bad the moment I did. It just made for a more annoying morning.Then Too Much Perfume Lady stood too close to me on the train. There was a long line at the Chinese bakery by my bus stop and too long a line at the Peet's Coffee at my Muni station for me to not be annoyed with. There weren't any good seats on the train because there were too many men "man-sitting." Because of delays in the tunnel I missed the shuttle to my office so I caught the F line. It was too crowded with tourists that wouldn't move to the back so there was a big cluster at the front door that nobody could get through. The condensation from my yogurt that I keep in the freezer and throw in my bag w/ the intention to eat it around 10am got all over my workbook for the test I have to take next Wednesday, and the worst part, it ruined the answer key. My cup of coffee didnt' take. I didn't pack a lunch so I have to buy one. I'm sick of the salad bar at both the employee cafeteria and the little market across the street. I'm certain there are wolves after me.
I have a feeling that none of this stuff would have bothered me so much if I hadn't had been woken up prematurely by the stupid cat playing with crunchy things.
Stupid cat.
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| He is a very sweet and patient cat, but he is a very stupid cat. |
This morning, right before my alarm was scheduled to go off, the stupid cat started playing with something loud and crunchy. Batting it around the hallway, banging into walls. Stupid cat. I hate the tone it set for the day. Then The Kiddies woke up way too early and started fighting about stupid things and crying and making annoying noises. I stomped out into the living room and snapped at them. I felt bad the moment I did. It just made for a more annoying morning.Then Too Much Perfume Lady stood too close to me on the train. There was a long line at the Chinese bakery by my bus stop and too long a line at the Peet's Coffee at my Muni station for me to not be annoyed with. There weren't any good seats on the train because there were too many men "man-sitting." Because of delays in the tunnel I missed the shuttle to my office so I caught the F line. It was too crowded with tourists that wouldn't move to the back so there was a big cluster at the front door that nobody could get through. The condensation from my yogurt that I keep in the freezer and throw in my bag w/ the intention to eat it around 10am got all over my workbook for the test I have to take next Wednesday, and the worst part, it ruined the answer key. My cup of coffee didnt' take. I didn't pack a lunch so I have to buy one. I'm sick of the salad bar at both the employee cafeteria and the little market across the street. I'm certain there are wolves after me.
I have a feeling that none of this stuff would have bothered me so much if I hadn't had been woken up prematurely by the stupid cat playing with crunchy things.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Book Review - Set Phasers on Par-Tay!
The other day The Boy totally needed to get out of the house. He needed a good run. I asked him where he wanted to go. He promptly said "the playground with the train." At first I was a bit annoyed because we have to drive to 'the playground with the train,' and I wanted to walk him down to Ocean Beach and run him there. After grumbling a little bit I said I'd take him there but being that 'the playground with the train' has a library pretty close to it, we had to take a short detour and got me a few books to read. He was amenable to that plan of action. I got two books.
I shouldn't be reading for fun. I should be studying as I have a test next Wednesday that I need to pass. I took it last June and failed miserably. I'm being given a great opportunity to be able to take this test again. Icompromised rationalized that I could read just one of the books and then start the other one on the train ride home from taking my test. By only reading one book I still had time to study for my test, especially since I had been to all the classes, taken the test before AND there are a few full-day review sessions next week before the test on Wednesday.
OK so it was probably a bad idea and bad rationalization on my part but I talked myself out of studying and in to reading my newly borrowed book. BEST DECISION OF MY LIFE!!!
The book I chose to read first was Night of the Living Trekkies by Kevin David Anderson. You can find the author's blog here.
I frikkin' loved this book.
I started it Monday morning on the train on the way to work. By the time the train got to my stop I was hooked. When I got to work I looked it up online to see what was out there about the book. I was super excited to find the book had a movie-like trailer for it. Of course I watched it. When it was over I was even more hooked.
I finished the book yesterday on my way home. I kept waiting for someone to comment on the book and ask me how I was enjoying it so I could tell them the book was really freakin' enjoyable in a loud voice. Sadly, it never happened.
Night of the Living Trekkies is about this guy named Jim who after doing a few tours in Afghanistan decides to get a go-nowhere job in Houston, Texas. There's a Star Trek convention going on. At the start of the convention people who work at the hotel start calling in sick and hotel guests are acting weird and sick. Jim's spidey senses start tingling like something is wrong but he dismisses it. His sister shows up with her douche-bag boyfriend and a few of their friends. After the big Klingon feast funky things start happening. Jim goes into the security office to grab some tasers and a gun. He gets a sense of what's happening, all the people are shuffling around and taking bites out of each other. He finds a woman dressed like Princess Leia chained to a beg, frees her and then the two of them go out and try to figure out what's happening. They meet up with some kid on an abandoned floor, then find Jim's sister and her friends. The douche-bag has gotten way douchier and they abandon him. They find that the zombies had attacked one of their friends. She fights off her inner-zombie and tells Jim what the fuss is all about, then he shoots her. Turns out they aren't really zombies. They are parasites from some alien race trying to take over the world. At the end of the book they kill the alpha-zombie, kind of, and then Houston gets blown up. Lots of other stuff happens, but you get the gist of it. It's a pretty simple story, but super duper fun to read. I was on the edge of my fully-paid for seat on more than one occasion. I would recommend this book to any Star Trek fan, or any Zombie genre fan for that matter, but mostly I think the Star Trek fan would enjoy it more. I said it before but I'll say it again --
I FREAKIN' LOVED IT!
When I finished the book something dawned on me. None of my favorite lines from the book were in the trailer. That's not so weird I guess. I mean I don't think the line "It's raining. Quick, take off your clothes!" was uttered in the trailer for The Perils of Gwendolyn in the Land of the Yik Yak. Then it dawned on me that none of the crucial elements from the book, like how the zombies manifested themselves weren't in the trailer. Not even the main characters from the trailer match the main characters from the book. There was no girl dressed like Princess Leia in the trailer. There's a scene in the trailer when the guy dressed like the Klingon runs around the corner to save the day then comes back screaming like a girl. The Klingon in the book was a big 'ole wuss. There's no big fight scene next to an RV that's tricked out to look like a Federation Starship.
The trailer was really entertaining, and did get me to want to read the book even more, but it pissed me off that it didn't follow the plot of the movie.
Here's the trailer. Again, super entertaining, but different from the book.
I shouldn't be reading for fun. I should be studying as I have a test next Wednesday that I need to pass. I took it last June and failed miserably. I'm being given a great opportunity to be able to take this test again. I
OK so it was probably a bad idea and bad rationalization on my part but I talked myself out of studying and in to reading my newly borrowed book. BEST DECISION OF MY LIFE!!!
I frikkin' loved this book.
I started it Monday morning on the train on the way to work. By the time the train got to my stop I was hooked. When I got to work I looked it up online to see what was out there about the book. I was super excited to find the book had a movie-like trailer for it. Of course I watched it. When it was over I was even more hooked.
I finished the book yesterday on my way home. I kept waiting for someone to comment on the book and ask me how I was enjoying it so I could tell them the book was really freakin' enjoyable in a loud voice. Sadly, it never happened.
Night of the Living Trekkies is about this guy named Jim who after doing a few tours in Afghanistan decides to get a go-nowhere job in Houston, Texas. There's a Star Trek convention going on. At the start of the convention people who work at the hotel start calling in sick and hotel guests are acting weird and sick. Jim's spidey senses start tingling like something is wrong but he dismisses it. His sister shows up with her douche-bag boyfriend and a few of their friends. After the big Klingon feast funky things start happening. Jim goes into the security office to grab some tasers and a gun. He gets a sense of what's happening, all the people are shuffling around and taking bites out of each other. He finds a woman dressed like Princess Leia chained to a beg, frees her and then the two of them go out and try to figure out what's happening. They meet up with some kid on an abandoned floor, then find Jim's sister and her friends. The douche-bag has gotten way douchier and they abandon him. They find that the zombies had attacked one of their friends. She fights off her inner-zombie and tells Jim what the fuss is all about, then he shoots her. Turns out they aren't really zombies. They are parasites from some alien race trying to take over the world. At the end of the book they kill the alpha-zombie, kind of, and then Houston gets blown up. Lots of other stuff happens, but you get the gist of it. It's a pretty simple story, but super duper fun to read. I was on the edge of my fully-paid for seat on more than one occasion. I would recommend this book to any Star Trek fan, or any Zombie genre fan for that matter, but mostly I think the Star Trek fan would enjoy it more. I said it before but I'll say it again --
I FREAKIN' LOVED IT!
When I finished the book something dawned on me. None of my favorite lines from the book were in the trailer. That's not so weird I guess. I mean I don't think the line "It's raining. Quick, take off your clothes!" was uttered in the trailer for The Perils of Gwendolyn in the Land of the Yik Yak. Then it dawned on me that none of the crucial elements from the book, like how the zombies manifested themselves weren't in the trailer. Not even the main characters from the trailer match the main characters from the book. There was no girl dressed like Princess Leia in the trailer. There's a scene in the trailer when the guy dressed like the Klingon runs around the corner to save the day then comes back screaming like a girl. The Klingon in the book was a big 'ole wuss. There's no big fight scene next to an RV that's tricked out to look like a Federation Starship.
The trailer was really entertaining, and did get me to want to read the book even more, but it pissed me off that it didn't follow the plot of the movie.
Here's the trailer. Again, super entertaining, but different from the book.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
6 weeks in, 9 pounds out
I had my 6 week check in with my health coach.
The first session I didn't like my health coach. He made to much eye contact. He would just stare at me, not breaking eye contact, and the worst part, not blinking. Oh it drove me crazy. I thought "how could I continue seeing this guy". Then he would say things to me like "Food is neither good nor bad. It's the choices we make that are good or bad." It was a bad thing for me to kill a brick of Les Trois Petits Cochons Black Peppercorn Mousse Pate. The pate wasn't bad. I have to tell you, he was right. That pate wasn't bad. It was so frickin' good. It was the choice I made that was bad.
My goal that session was to write down everything I ate until my next session. I wasn't to ease up on what I ate or drank. My only mission was to write it down. Funny thing, though. In writing it down, I found myself eating less. Writing it down made me more accountable. I didn't want that brick of pate to go on record so I didn't eat it.
At my second session I was a lot happier. There was a lot less eye contact and I thought I could work with this guy. We analyzed what I ate, how much I ate, when I ate. There wasn't a weigh-in at the second session so on the way out I took a little detour to the scale and weighed myself. I was happy to see that I had lost 4.2 pounds.
My goal after this session was to pick one thing to focus on until our next session. My choices were:
1- add 45 minutes of activity that sped up my heart rate on the days I wasn't running
2- eat *this much* vegetables a day (hold out your hands like you are describing someone with big boobs "out to here". The negative space in your hands is the amount of vegetables one should have every day)
3- limit wine to 1 or 2 glasses a night.
I chose option #3. I have to say that I cheated. The company Christmas party, Christmas and a few other "just because" days did me in. Plus working for a wine company doesn't help. Wine is ubiquitous in this office. New release? Let's try it! Guided tasting of Pinot Noir from 8 different regions? Yes, please! Friday at 3pm? Why not? I compensated by working on choice #2 more.
At my third and latest session, I thought I was done for. I caught a bad cold and was stuck in bed for 3 days. For the few days before my cold got so bad it knocked me out to the few days after the worst was over I hardly ate or drank anything. I also didn't exercise. When the cold was gone, I hardly followed any of the goals I set. I thought about them, and I guess half heartedly followed them. Whatever I did do worked, however lazy it was because at the weigh in, I found myself 9 pounds lighter. I was so surprised. Yay me!
My goal for the next month is to make sure I eat *this much* vegetables every day, and not just in one meal. I have to spread it evenly across lunch and dinner. I told him that I tried eating *this much* at lunch for a week and by the time I got home I was so super starving that I ate too much dinner. He said to fix that it's OK to throw on a few croutons to my salad and to have some protein with lunch as well. Also, have a little snackie of some nuts in the afternoon.
Losing 9 pounds, although I can't see it, and my clothes don't feel any different, was a boost of confidence. I'm certain I can incorporate this new goal in to my small but growing list of changing behaviors. I have no doubts that some days may be harder than others, but in the long run, I'll succeed.
My goal that session was to write down everything I ate until my next session. I wasn't to ease up on what I ate or drank. My only mission was to write it down. Funny thing, though. In writing it down, I found myself eating less. Writing it down made me more accountable. I didn't want that brick of pate to go on record so I didn't eat it.
At my second session I was a lot happier. There was a lot less eye contact and I thought I could work with this guy. We analyzed what I ate, how much I ate, when I ate. There wasn't a weigh-in at the second session so on the way out I took a little detour to the scale and weighed myself. I was happy to see that I had lost 4.2 pounds.
My goal after this session was to pick one thing to focus on until our next session. My choices were:
1- add 45 minutes of activity that sped up my heart rate on the days I wasn't running
2- eat *this much* vegetables a day (hold out your hands like you are describing someone with big boobs "out to here". The negative space in your hands is the amount of vegetables one should have every day)
3- limit wine to 1 or 2 glasses a night.
I chose option #3. I have to say that I cheated. The company Christmas party, Christmas and a few other "just because" days did me in. Plus working for a wine company doesn't help. Wine is ubiquitous in this office. New release? Let's try it! Guided tasting of Pinot Noir from 8 different regions? Yes, please! Friday at 3pm? Why not? I compensated by working on choice #2 more.
At my third and latest session, I thought I was done for. I caught a bad cold and was stuck in bed for 3 days. For the few days before my cold got so bad it knocked me out to the few days after the worst was over I hardly ate or drank anything. I also didn't exercise. When the cold was gone, I hardly followed any of the goals I set. I thought about them, and I guess half heartedly followed them. Whatever I did do worked, however lazy it was because at the weigh in, I found myself 9 pounds lighter. I was so surprised. Yay me!
My goal for the next month is to make sure I eat *this much* vegetables every day, and not just in one meal. I have to spread it evenly across lunch and dinner. I told him that I tried eating *this much* at lunch for a week and by the time I got home I was so super starving that I ate too much dinner. He said to fix that it's OK to throw on a few croutons to my salad and to have some protein with lunch as well. Also, have a little snackie of some nuts in the afternoon.
Losing 9 pounds, although I can't see it, and my clothes don't feel any different, was a boost of confidence. I'm certain I can incorporate this new goal in to my small but growing list of changing behaviors. I have no doubts that some days may be harder than others, but in the long run, I'll succeed.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Andrea's Gift Guide
I'm almost done with my holiday shopping.
For Christmas I have one more task to do for the presents we're giving my parents and my in-laws. I'm super excited about their present. I think they'll really like it. Other than that, I just have to wrap a few things and I'm done. I'm excited to see the The Girl and The Boy when they see what Santa brought them.
I have a few birthday presents to take care of. My oldest sister is celebrating a special birthday this year, plus another sister and a niece have some candles to blow out as well. I know I shouldn't, but I always seem to run a little late around Christmas-time birthdays. It's not their fault they were born around Christmas time, and in this area I miss the mark. I should pay more attention to their special day.
I admit I get caught up sometimes and don't think things through as much as I should or I get lazy but here are the guidelines I shoot for. Sometimes I miss, but I'm always mindful of where I could improve.
I think gifts should be well thought out. Gifts should be something you want to give to someone because you want to make them happy or you want to celebrate something with them. Gifts are a reflection of how you feel about someone. How you present the gift, how you wrap it is a reflection as well. Gifts should not be an afterthought All that being said, one does not need to spend a lot of money on a gift, and it's also OK to re-gift, just make sure to take the old tag off. The gift just has to be thoughtful, and if you are wrapping it yourself, as opposed to buying it online and having it shipped somewhere, it should be wrapped with the same care that you picked the gift out with. Gift cards are OK, especially if you don't know what to get, but don't just throw it in an old envelope. Put it in a nice box and wrap it or put it inside a card.
I think, above all, giving gifts shouldn't be a "have to," giving gifts should be a "get to."
Just rambling.
For Christmas I have one more task to do for the presents we're giving my parents and my in-laws. I'm super excited about their present. I think they'll really like it. Other than that, I just have to wrap a few things and I'm done. I'm excited to see the The Girl and The Boy when they see what Santa brought them.
I have a few birthday presents to take care of. My oldest sister is celebrating a special birthday this year, plus another sister and a niece have some candles to blow out as well. I know I shouldn't, but I always seem to run a little late around Christmas-time birthdays. It's not their fault they were born around Christmas time, and in this area I miss the mark. I should pay more attention to their special day.
I admit I get caught up sometimes and don't think things through as much as I should or I get lazy but here are the guidelines I shoot for. Sometimes I miss, but I'm always mindful of where I could improve.
I think gifts should be well thought out. Gifts should be something you want to give to someone because you want to make them happy or you want to celebrate something with them. Gifts are a reflection of how you feel about someone. How you present the gift, how you wrap it is a reflection as well. Gifts should not be an afterthought All that being said, one does not need to spend a lot of money on a gift, and it's also OK to re-gift, just make sure to take the old tag off. The gift just has to be thoughtful, and if you are wrapping it yourself, as opposed to buying it online and having it shipped somewhere, it should be wrapped with the same care that you picked the gift out with. Gift cards are OK, especially if you don't know what to get, but don't just throw it in an old envelope. Put it in a nice box and wrap it or put it inside a card.
I think, above all, giving gifts shouldn't be a "have to," giving gifts should be a "get to."
Just rambling.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
All Because of the Elevenses - A True, Yet Pointless Story About My Encounter with Mike Rowe
This morning I wasn't hungry so I didn't eat the yogurt I brought to work with me to have for breakfast. Later that morning though, I got a little peckish. I pulled my yogurt out of my backpack and had me some Elevenses.
Indulging in this late morning snack, thus staving off my hunger coupled with the project I had to finish before a 1pm meeting, I didn't get to lunch until a little after 1:30.
For lunch, I decided I needed to go to the employee cafeteria to get me a turkey burger. Their turkey burgers are pretty OK, and after 1:30pm are only $2, a price I'm totally willing to pay for a turkey burger made at the employee cafeteria.
On my way across the courtyard I saw a man walking towards me blowing dust off of and polishing his glasses. I thought to myself "that guy blowing dust off of and polishing off his glasses looks like Mike Rowe." As we got closer to each other I realized it was, in fact, Mr. Dirty Jobs himself. We walked by each other. He went his way, I went mine.
True story ends, or does it?
I got across the courtyard and opened the door to the building that houses the employee cafeteria. I admit it. I was in my own little world, being rude and tweeting about having just seen Mike Rowe. I didn't look behind me when I opened the door, y'know to hold the door open a bit for the person who is 2 steps behind me. I wasn't thinking. The door started to slam shut and it shut right on Mike Rowe, except I didn't know it was him, I only know I slammed the door shut on someone. I turned around, while saying "oh, gosh, I'm sorry." He looked up, smiled and said "it's OK."
Then I turned left to go into the employee cafeteria and he turned right to ask someone at the security desk a question.
End of story. Not as exciting as the time I scolded Danny Glover in public, but more exciting than the time I cracked 3 crabs for Tracy Chapman.
Indulging in this late morning snack, thus staving off my hunger coupled with the project I had to finish before a 1pm meeting, I didn't get to lunch until a little after 1:30.
For lunch, I decided I needed to go to the employee cafeteria to get me a turkey burger. Their turkey burgers are pretty OK, and after 1:30pm are only $2, a price I'm totally willing to pay for a turkey burger made at the employee cafeteria.
True story ends, or does it?
I got across the courtyard and opened the door to the building that houses the employee cafeteria. I admit it. I was in my own little world, being rude and tweeting about having just seen Mike Rowe. I didn't look behind me when I opened the door, y'know to hold the door open a bit for the person who is 2 steps behind me. I wasn't thinking. The door started to slam shut and it shut right on Mike Rowe, except I didn't know it was him, I only know I slammed the door shut on someone. I turned around, while saying "oh, gosh, I'm sorry." He looked up, smiled and said "it's OK."
Then I turned left to go into the employee cafeteria and he turned right to ask someone at the security desk a question.
End of story. Not as exciting as the time I scolded Danny Glover in public, but more exciting than the time I cracked 3 crabs for Tracy Chapman.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Tree Trimming
It's always exciting to set up for Christmas! We got our tree last Saturday and decorated it the other day.
Last year I writing about setting up our quirky Nativity Set and its broken bits. This year I thought I'd focus on the tree.
Our ornaments are a mish mash of pieces we've collected over the years. Just like our Nativity set, some of the ornaments were given to us by Hubby's mom. A lot of them I got from a former employer's employee sale, and a good handful are from The Girl's handiwork at school. They all have their own sweet characteristics. They all bring back fond memories of Christmasses past. There's the pine cones given to me by an old co-worker, the wooden salmon, the seahorse with the almost broken nose, the paper mache balls that open up. My favorites are the ones that The Girl made at school. I love macaroni and picture-frame art -turned ornament.
This year one ornament stood out more than others; the blown glass cat.
The Girl picked it up out of the box and was about to hang it on the tree and paused, smiled, turned it around to us and asked "why does this cat have a butthole?"
Merry Christmas!
Thursday, December 1, 2011
On Marrying Hula
I'm always surprised at the hula steps that come easy to me and the ones that give me grief.
Some moves I get right away. When I attempt them and conquer them I think 'wow, that sounded hard and I pulled it off. yay me.'
Then there are other moves that sound easy, that seemingly everyone in class, but me figures out and executes perfectly. Both dances we are learning in class this month (and next) have both kinds of moves.
My right 'ami is stronger than my left 'ami, but there is this one part in the current kahiko we are learning where my arm movements and my right 'ami don't sync, but strangely, when it's time to do the left 'ami, I do it just fine. My arm movements and my left 'ami work just fine together. Go figure.
In the 'auana we're learning, in one part we go from two right kawelu to two 'uwehe. Easy peasy, right? When I get to that part I get all hmmm, what's the word? The only thing I can think of is 'tongue-tied' which isn't the right phrase, but I think you get my point.
Last night at hula I think Kumu got a tiny bit frustrated. Although the class was following his instructions, we weren't really doing what he wanted. He finally stopped class and said "Will you marry Hula?"
When I got home I started thinking about that phrase. "Will you marry Hula?"
I can think of a lot of idioms that mirror the same sentiment. I don't know who said it but everyone has either used or heard the phrase "jumping in with both feet." People have made quotes based on the same sentiment. Robert Mondavi said "Whatever you do, pour yourself into it." MC Hammer said "Either work hard or you might as well quit." There's even a bible verse (Colossians 3:23) that says "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart."
I understood what Kumu meant when he said "Will you marry Hula?"
The hard part is putting it into practice. I think 99% of the people in my class agree that hula class is not like other dance classes. Is not an exercise class. We are not there to tone our booties, we are there to feed our souls. Sure, after a night of learning a new kahiko that is full of nothing but 'uwehe we go home with tingling hamstrings and wake up the next morning reaching for the ibuprofen to calm down those sore muscles, only to emerge stronger and more able to endure another night of 'uwhe, 'ami, 'oniu, kaholo and hela. But physical strength is only a byproduct of class. It is not the intent.
We are there to learn an art form, absorb the culture and perpetuate a lifestyle. We wear our hearts on our collective sleeve, showing each other (and sometimes an audience) our emotions, our confidence, and while we're learning the hula, our insecurities.
Hula deserves and needs a wife; someone to take care of it, someone to learn its stories and be willing to retell them.
Some moves I get right away. When I attempt them and conquer them I think 'wow, that sounded hard and I pulled it off. yay me.'
Then there are other moves that sound easy, that seemingly everyone in class, but me figures out and executes perfectly. Both dances we are learning in class this month (and next) have both kinds of moves.
My right 'ami is stronger than my left 'ami, but there is this one part in the current kahiko we are learning where my arm movements and my right 'ami don't sync, but strangely, when it's time to do the left 'ami, I do it just fine. My arm movements and my left 'ami work just fine together. Go figure.
In the 'auana we're learning, in one part we go from two right kawelu to two 'uwehe. Easy peasy, right? When I get to that part I get all hmmm, what's the word? The only thing I can think of is 'tongue-tied' which isn't the right phrase, but I think you get my point.
Last night at hula I think Kumu got a tiny bit frustrated. Although the class was following his instructions, we weren't really doing what he wanted. He finally stopped class and said "Will you marry Hula?"
When I got home I started thinking about that phrase. "Will you marry Hula?"
I can think of a lot of idioms that mirror the same sentiment. I don't know who said it but everyone has either used or heard the phrase "jumping in with both feet." People have made quotes based on the same sentiment. Robert Mondavi said "Whatever you do, pour yourself into it." MC Hammer said "Either work hard or you might as well quit." There's even a bible verse (Colossians 3:23) that says "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart."
I understood what Kumu meant when he said "Will you marry Hula?"
The hard part is putting it into practice. I think 99% of the people in my class agree that hula class is not like other dance classes. Is not an exercise class. We are not there to tone our booties, we are there to feed our souls. Sure, after a night of learning a new kahiko that is full of nothing but 'uwehe we go home with tingling hamstrings and wake up the next morning reaching for the ibuprofen to calm down those sore muscles, only to emerge stronger and more able to endure another night of 'uwhe, 'ami, 'oniu, kaholo and hela. But physical strength is only a byproduct of class. It is not the intent.
We are there to learn an art form, absorb the culture and perpetuate a lifestyle. We wear our hearts on our collective sleeve, showing each other (and sometimes an audience) our emotions, our confidence, and while we're learning the hula, our insecurities.
Hula deserves and needs a wife; someone to take care of it, someone to learn its stories and be willing to retell them.
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