Pregnancy is Liberating

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If You Don't Know, Now you Know!

While my world didn’t know I was with child, I was busy compiling a list of how much it sucks. Here are the things that no one tells you about pregnancy (first trimester addition):

1. You don’t have a “glow” at first. Your shit breaks out.

2. You’re not “showing” this early. You just have lost the ability to suck in your gut.

3. Your favorite perfume will smell like a garbage disposal.

4. Your gums are hella sensitive! I went to the dentist and thought my jaw was going to crumble out of my mouth the rest of the day.

5. This part goes SOOOOO slow!

6. You don’t feel ANYTHING besides a hangover. Yeah, your boobs swell, and your bloated, and constipated but, you have no other inclination that there is a tiny embryo, and then a fetus in your womb. None.

7. You will have a very serious concern that you are an alcoholic or other substance abuser because you feel very awkward at social functions sober (until the hangover feeling kicks in and then you will dry heave if you even think about hooch).

8. You will “crave” greasy food that isn’t good for you. You’ll go out and buy it. You will eat half of it. Then it becomes the grossest thing on the planet and you’ll throw it away.

9. When your hangover suddenly dissipates for a day (or an hour) you will freak the f*ck out that it didn’t stick.

 

10. When it all goes away and you realize this shitty phase was only a few weeks long...you realize your one lucky pregnant lady!

Swooning Over Love and Summer Rain

I love weddings. Moreover, I love being a part of weddings. Everyone is there to celebrate someone else's love and often ends up reflecting on their own love for others.

I recently got back from one of the most emotional weddings I've ever been a part of. I'm sure the beautiful scenery, the romantic summer rain and the whiskey had something to do with it; but mostly, it had to do with the immense love felt toward and between the bride and groom.

It also had to do with the fact that I have had a very, very emotional year. Losing two parents can really take it out of you. So, standing there, next to two people who have become some of my closest friends in record time; one who has also recently lost a parent, well, it made my heart fill with so much emotion that I cried like a baby well through dinner. So much emotion that I actually felt like blogging again.

My husband had the honor of marrying this fantastic couple and in my opinion, did a bang up job. Jim paid homage to Bob's deceased parents by quoting words they used in love letters to one another years before Bob was even born. I cried so hard that my contact fell out.

The wedding was a beautiful "destination" for not only those who had to travel across the country, but also those of us who only drove 45 miles up from the valley. Adorable accommodations, a breathtaking golf course view, and some intense, warm summer rain.

It poured as we ate burgers and mac 'n cheese at the rehearsal dinner, surrounded by open sliding glass. It poured as we danced the night away and smoked cigars underneath the saturated wedding tent. The thunder and lightening was unusual and intense and the cool water gave everyone a nice break from the triple digit temperatures. It was intoxicating.  

Thank you, Bob and Steph for sharing your special day with us. And thank you for providing me with an emotional outlet I've been needing for a long time now.

As a final, light note:

I measure the success of weddings via the below, and in my opinion, this wedding had high marks all around!

1. Tears. Who cried? Did the bride? Groom? EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE AUDIENCE?
2. Friendship. Who is friends with who on FaceBook the morning after the wedding?
3. Hooch consumption. This particular wedding broke a record I am pretty sure.
4. Guests' photos. Much like my own wedding, there are little to no photos from the reception taken by any guest. They were too busy taking it in and experiencing it with their own, naked eyes:)

Tying their Figure 8 Knot

Bachelorettes!

My Dogs are Mentally Handicapped

My Dogs are Retarded Mentally Handicapped

Our adorable rescue pup, Sadie, is a bit of a spaz. She truly is adorable. So adorable that every time I think I might let her wander out in traffic because she can’t seem to stop defecating in my basement I look at her adorable, pink rimmed eyes and my heart literally melts.

We’ve had her since May and although we keep saying she’s getting “better” she still is an uber wiggly, un-housebroken slobbery mess.

A few weeks ago, as I was feeling sorry for myself for getting stuck with such a special dog, Jim forwarded me this.

First thought: OMG! Someone else thinks their dog might be a little re re and Googled about it!

Second thought: Shit. There’s no way Sadie is passing these tests.

Third thought: Wait, will Lula pass these tests?

For your viewing pleasure, the tests (forgive the nausea inducing filming, its hard to do this type of abuse test by yourself):

First up: the "how long does it take your dog to realize she has a blanket on her" test.

Next: the "how long does it take your dog to realize there is a treat underneath a cup" test.

Here's Lula's chance:

So, as it turns out, Sadie is definitely mentally challenged. And Lula…well the jury is still out on her. She is also a little stubborn shit so I am thinking she may have known what was going on and wanted me to feel like I had two challenged dogs because she’s mad at me because I didn’t take her to the dog park that day. Or, she’s just as challenged as Sadie.

For more great dog reading, this is a goodie. 

Dear Stall One Pooper

I see you’re a morning pooper, that’s nice. Do you think you could make sure all of your poop has gone down the drain when you flush? I too enjoy the first stall, I heard somewhere that it is the cleanest stall as most folks go to the last stall. I don’t, however, enjoy seeing that the Poop Stain Bandit has visited that stall before me. Please take more care to make sure it all goes down from now on? I know you want to rush out so no one knows it’s you but seriously, come on.

Disclaimer: I *might* be a tad uppity since I wish I was as “regular” as this gal. Forgive me.

Trying the Check In

So instead of working this afternoon, I was catching up on a very interesting blog: The Weed. Check it out if you haven’t already. The author is a gay Mormon who seems to be genuinely happily married to a straight woman with three daughters.

He is also a therapist and since I am obsessed with how folks deal with personal issues, I absolutely LOVE when his brilliance leaks out on his blog. His posts are endearing, thought provoking, intelligent and hilarious. Whether you agree with his lifestyle or see his point of view or not, you will appreciate his tolerance for others, if not learn from it.

In group therapy he has “check-ins” with his clients. Each client must say where he or she is at physically, emotionally, and spiritually. They then set a commitment for the week and follow up on his or her commitment from the week before.

I’ll share mine if you share yours:

Physically – Tired and fat. I am trying to be active…and I am succeeding, but 30 has caught up with me. Losing ten pounds is NOT nearly as easy (or fun) as it was to gain them…

Emotionally – Coming out of the shithole. The last several months have been hell on my emotional self. The most obvious of my emotional wreckage is the loss of my dear father-in-law. But I’ve had other drama and sadness going on too. I won’t get into it here but having a wonderful spouse and loving friends has helped me greatly.

Spiritually – I feel pretty aligned with the universe, but I also feel slightly disconnected. I am hopeful that as I get back into physical gear and let my mind take a break I will feel much better with regard to my spiritual self.

Commitment – I have a triathlon sprint on Saturday. I will spend this week doing an exercise a day (except Tuesday), going to bed early, and seriously monitoring my alcohol intake.  

Waking Up at Your Own Funeral

My father in law was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer last summer.  Since then Jim and I have made several trips back east to help out with the care and general morale of the new situation.  Not many people can say they got so intimately and beautifully close with their new in-laws in the year after they got married. Not many people can say they lost their new dad a year after legally gaining him.

A few weeks ago Mike’s situation got worse. He was in a lot of pain and it became apparent that the treatment was no longer working. We rushed home to be with him during what we thought would be his last hours. Two days into our stay a seemingly rejuvenated Mike woke up and asked what all the fuss was about. He was upbeat and relatively pain free and gave us the chance to spend some quality time with him.

So many of us were there as he slept those first few days. We’d take turns sitting beside him, holding his hand, administering his pain medication and speaking soothingly. In the background we were feasting on stuffed flounder made by Jim’s amazing uncle and sipping on the aged whiskey we bought Mike for father’s day. We’d laugh and tell Mike his Eagles were winning as he came to every few hours. As he gained strength and realized the severity of the situation, he called old friends, told us he loved us and laughed with us as we always do when we are together.

My mother in law said it was like Mike woke up at his own funeral. And it was. How awesome is that? Like many of us, I’ve wondered what my funeral will be like. Will it be packed? Will there be lots of fun memories being shared? Will folks be laughing as much as they are crying?

I honestly believe Mike was able to truly grasp the love and sadness, but also the state of reverie that was around him that weekend. As I said goodbye to him I gave him a letter telling him that should this be the last time I see him, I’d like him to know the reasons I am grateful for knowing him.

I won’t go into its entirety here, this is supposed to be a happy post. But I will say this: Mike has taught me that being a good person is truly one of the only things that matters in this life. Mike and Pam spent their lives being compassionate, spiritual and humble. They always gave to others as well as took care of each other. And it paid off.

Since last August Mike and Pam haven’t had to mow their lawn. They’ve rarely spent a day alone. They’ve received countless meals and baked goods from dear friends. They’ve been prayed for each and every Sunday in many different types of churches. They’ve been at the forefront of hundreds of minds.

This is not to say that the sole purpose of being a good person is so that you are taken care of in your time of need…although that is a damn good reason. I think that being a good person genuinely makes you a happy person.

Mike was a deeply spiritual man and  he was very content knowing he was going home to God. So, if all goes to plan, he is more than likely fishing or hunting or watching football in the sky…

I love you, Mike. Thanks for being in my life and raising an amazing man that I get to call my husband. 

Another (not so) Sexy Scooter Kitten Rant

Apologies, I am much less angry as I write this since I've had a big hug from my husband and spoken to my adorable in-laws who were concerned that the wildfires in Northern California might be threatening my parents.

Dare I say this...riding my scooter isn't as fun anymore. Not because I am sick of doing my helmet hair in the dirty side view mirror in the parking garage every morning before work. Not because even on a scoot, 90 degree heat is freaking stifling. And not because with my swimmer's neck putting a helmet on really, really hurts.

No. I am having less fun because there are so many stupid perverts it is ridiculous. I am NO Kim Kardashian and, in my opinion, do not display some sex on wheels image as I ride my scoot (in my lady bug helmet for crying out loud). But I do, as it is summer time, wear a skirt on my scoot. It is always long enough so that when I put my foot down you cannot see anything. I always tuck it so it will not fly up as I ride. I've done my duty to remain "modest". But if I had a dollar for every gross male who makes an obvious attempt to see if they can "see" anything I wouldn't need a scoot. I'd have a chauffeur.

Here are three incidents that have happened since last Wednesday:

1. I am on my way to a meeting at school and stopped at a light. The rear window of the fancy SUV in front of me (and one lane to the right) roles down. I expect to see a kid or dog peek out. No. I see an older gentleman, in a tie, turn all the way around from the driver seat, remove his sun glasses, look me  up and down (and at my crotch) then shake his head. In disgust? In disappointment? Who knows, but I was hoping with all my might he was headed toward the U where I could ask him what the hell he was looking at.

2. I am at a stoplight (just now on my way home from work) and the cross foot traffic is heavy. A man on his bike, stops. Right in front of me and tries to see if he can see up my skirt (which is definitely long enough to conceal everything). When I finally see what he is doing he speeds off on his bike. I was so dumbfounded I didn't even think of anything to say to his back as he rides off.

3. I was riding home from Steph's house last week at about 9 PM.  I am at a stop light, in a dress, next to a beat up Oldsmobile bumping rap music with four white men in their twenties totally rocking out. They were singing along to some pop-y song and changed the lyrics to yell at me, "I'd tap that moped ass!" Yuck. The light turns green and I head toward my street where I take a left. At seeing this, the car then turns right, flips a u-turn and is attempting to come after me! Thank goodness they have cross traffic and no light because I drive down my quiet street at 50 miles an hour, make it to my driveway, pull the gate closed and hide, still in my helmet, behind my scoot as they roll by like they're gonna shoot me up.

You know, dudes look hot on bikes too. You could be into the hipster on the scoot, the thug on the Ducati, or the badass on the Harley. They look sexy. I have perhaps never seen a girl cat call a guy on his motor bike of choice. I have never seen a grown woman pull up next to a grown man on a bike, roll down their window and blatantly look them up and down. Why do so many men think this is OK?

Sure, I could wear only pants on my scoot. But it shouldn't be up to me to keep nasty men in check.

GRRRRR.

G*ddamnit, Utah!

So, this happened yesterday morning:

I have a few thoughts on this, some relate to the message in general, others relate to the message coming from Utah.

Thought 1: Does God (whose existence in my opinion is entirely questionable), really hate anyone? I mean, he (or she) is supposed to be this merciful, powerful, forgiving bad-ass, right? I don’t even think God hates the Devil himself (or herself).

Thought 2: GODDAMNIT, UTAH! I really love living here, and my friends and family were beginning to see why. And then some j-off pulls this shit. I just found “Mormons for Equality” on Facebook for goodness sake.

Thought 3: It’s things like this, like the LDS Church’s contribution to Prop 8, that give Utah a bad name. And judging by the comments on the Huff Post, it sounds like these things are really doing their job.

Yes, Utah is conservative, yes we are largely governed by the church. But did you know Salt Lake City has the only openly atheist mayor? Did you know that I just passed by more same sex couples than I could count on my lunch break walk through downtown and Temple Square? Did you know we have a freaking TOURBUS that does “hop on, hop off” pub crawls on the regular?

Final Thought: I just can’t believe we’re seeing this shit. In Utah. Anywhere. Same thing with racism. WTF? I hope that “shaundominic” is right and that a lot of people are flipping their shit because gay marriage is thisclose to becoming legal in much of the country.

(Fallen) Idols

When I was about 9 years old I was selling girl scout cookies outside Petrini's in Foster City when the muther effing Hulk walked out of the Gold's Gym next store.  I wasn't a real big wrestling fan in my girl scout heyday but you KNOW who the Hulk is.

I remember my dad was there and he was kinda geeked out about it. So was this little boy, maybe about 9 also.

The Hulk screamed at the kid to leave him alone.

We were shocked. How could a man made up of choreographed "wrestling" moves, roids, and fancy spandex yell at a boy who clearly sees him as his hero?

Has this ever happened to you? It's happened to me two more times that I can remember.

Last summer I went to see Trombone Shorty at Red Butte Gardens.

Being a diehard NOLA fan, this was ah-mazing. After a completely kick ass show, the Shorty and his band, Orleans Avenue were SIGNING CDS! My friend Stacey and I rushed over to meet the guys and purchase their disc. Sidenote: do you know how gorgeous Trombone Shorty is in person? Swoon.

It stops there.

The guys of Orleans Avenue were very nice; thanking us for being there, joking about where they can get a beer in this town. But not Shorty. No. He didn't even make eye contact. He signed my CD and brushed it to his right for the next person to sign. Before I could get more than, "fantastic show!" out of my mouth, he'd reached for the next person's disc. I was crushed.

So a few weeks ago, Josh and I went to see The B Side Players.  Now, take how much I love NOLA and times that by 100 and you'll see how much I love San Diego.  During my nearly 9 years there, I became a very big fan of much of the local music.  B Side is a Latin salsa/funk/reggae multi-piece band that will rock your sox off.

Per usual, I went to see these guys thinking it would be as slammed and sold out as when I saw them in their hometown.  There were maybe 40 folks there. I got a great seat! Front row.

The lead singer was gracious and interacted with the crowd.  He thanked us for being there, rocked out and the whole band played a really solid show.

As we were leaving the venue, I spot the lead singer at the swag table! I was star-shocked for sure. I told him how wonderful they were and that I couldn't believe it wasn't sold out and that I'd seen them at least once a year each year I was in SD. The other guy sitting there engaged me. "Right on!", "Thanks for coming out!". But not the main man of the band. He barely looked at me and gave me a very sad, "cool" in response to everything I said.  I was so crushed. When I came home, Jim asked how the show was and I couldn't even muster back up the high I felt as I was leaving my seat, it was gone now.

Given this track record, I expected little when I went to see Dear Sugar (aka Cheryl Strayed) at her book signing last night.

As she walked through the (very crowded) room, I had to fight back tears just aching to gush out. This woman’s advice column (and books: Torch and Wild) have literally changed my outlook on life. I even had to ditch the Q I had for the Q&A session because I just knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it together.

Her reading was great, the woman is hilarious. My favorite part was when someone asked what she “learned” during the tragic loss of her mother and the following three months of solidarity along the Pacific Crest Trail (as documented in Wild), she replied that she is still learning from these experiences, nearly 20 years later.  That, in the moment of life’s great losses, tragedies, or other stressful events, you don’t necessarily learn anything. It’s really in the reflection. Preach. On. Sista.

Anyway, after I waited in the very long line to get her to sign my book, she was incredibly gracious. She wrote me a little gem, “Always take the balloon” and posed for a photo. I held in my tears as my faith in meeting idols of mine was restored.

PS:

You know who is a GREAT band to their fans? California Guitar Trio. Not only do they sign CDs after the show, they stick around as long as they need to in order to engage nearly every fan.