Archive for the ‘Only you’ Category

9 Apr

Stood up

Posted by K in Only you, Relationships, Was there any question.

I don’t like to blog about my dates because most guys are genuinely nice, just not the right guy for me. For this guy, I will make an exception.

He contacted me. There were early warning signs. The first was that he still typed as though the world had never invented predictive typing. Use of letters like U, R, and M instead of full words indicate to me an inherent laziness and lack of interest in details. Not a good first impression, but people tell me I’m too picky about that, and so I let it pass. For note, I will ignore those people’s advice in the future as it is a good predictive indicator of failure.

Next, one of his first questions was whether I had a problem with the age difference. Nine years. I don’t, but that was evidence that he has issues with it right off the bat or else he wouldn’t have brought it up. Immaturity warning.

Then he asked what kind of guys I normally date. Red alert flags went up. He already wants to compare himself to my past. When guys ask questions like this, I like to respond with, “they are all rich, successful, and have huge dicks.” This was an immediate insecurity flag.

He was decent looking, makes a good salary, is well travelled and I was curious about his Spanish/Indian heritage since I’m headed to Spain soon. So I was willing to look past my self-invented warning signs. People keep telling me I’m too picky.

His next question was about where I worked. I ignored it as I often do. He pressed on. Finally I answered. Turns out, he is a software architect at the New Evil Empire. Sigh. This should have been a last straw. I should have read the writing on the wall. But I could hear voices of my friends with spouses at the New Evil Empire say I should give the guy a chance, they aren’t all bad.

So I arranged to meet for coffee on Saturday afternoon. I asked if I could bring my dog. I figured Perl might as well get a good walk out of the deal.

He sent me a poorly lit and poorly composed photo of himself in his cubicle at work and wanted me to reciprocate. I sent him the photo of me stealing the corner at Lily Macs on St. Patrick’s Day. His next request was for a full body shot.

Seriously? There is one on the dating site. Go there. He said, “Don’t u wanna know how your guy look like physically ?”

I responded with, “I will find out at 2pm. Patience.” It was 10:45 am Saturday morning.

Fifteen minutes later, he said something had come up, could we meet tomorrow? Sure, Sunday would be fine.

That was the last I heard from him.

Sunday afternoon, Perl and I walked to downtown Sunnyvale. I tied her to a table outside the Palace Cafe. I got myself a latte and her a bowl of water. It was a gorgeous day. I sipped my latte and watched the people on the street. One guy opened up his car windows and cranked some slow jam for us all to enjoy.

He never showed. No text, no email, no nothing. Maybe he saw me and decided he didn’t like the full body view. Maybe he just never thought of me again. Maybe he was just gathering data about me so he could sell it to advertisers. I wasn’t particularly surprised that the date planning never made it out of beta before being cancelled without warning. Typical. Asshole.

Regardless, Perl and I had a lovely walk. I brought her back home then returned to Murphy Street to meet friends at Roberto’s, the New Mexican place. I highly recommend the margaritas.

On to the next guy! And this time, I’ll listen to my own instincts!

15 Feb

Valentine’s Day

Posted by K in Only you, Photos, Self Improvement.

For the last few weeks, I’ve been taking the SNAP Training classes through the Sunnyvale Public Safety department. The classes teach us how to set up an incident command center, do light search and rescue, perform triage and basic medical, and put out small fires. Tonight, I spent the evening with the awesome firemen at Station 2 learning how to use a fire extinguisher and when to decide to run away. It turns out, I’m good at running away from things.

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8 Feb

The Universe is Against Me

Posted by K in Food & Wine, Only you, Photos.

L and I, (I can’t remember L’s name, or if she has one, which means she needs a new one) went to lunch yesterday. In an effort to lose weight, I’ve been insisting that my lunch partners and I walk up to a mile to eat. Yesterday, the possibility of rain was strong, so we still walked, but went someplace fairly close.

Another coworker had stopped by my office earlier to ask if I had tried Islands yet. I hadn’t, and the seed was planted, so I suggested it to L. It is a SoCal chain, so she’d been before, just not the new Cupertino location.

As part of my diet plan, I check the menu online before I go out to eat. I found that they have grilled veggie tacos with a cole slaw for less than 500 calories. Perfect! I could definitely use 500 calories.

We were seated quickly at a large table next to two cute guys, so I had a nice view. L watched shirtless surfers on the big screen behind me. I ordered the veggie tacos, L ordered the soup and salad. The food was good and filling. We said no to dessert. The check came. We were satisfied with our lunch experience.

But, before we could pay the check and leave, The Manager arrived with Chocolate Lava—a warmed brownie topped with ice cream, whipped cream, almonds, chocolate, and a cherry on top. He sat it on our table and said, “You both were so good with your lunches, so I brought you a surprise.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Sure you can,” he said as he walked away. How could he possibly know that I was craving chocolate at that exact moment. Was I sending out chocolate pheromones? Why weren’t the cute guys at the table next to us picking up on it?

We couldn’t say no. It was impossible. I stuck a spoon into the cool ice cream and slid it through the gooey brownie. I added a little whipped cream and jumped down the rabbit hole. It was soooo good.

While I was falling, I decided that the guys worked on some utility crew, that they made a lot less money than me, that we couldn’t afford to travel to the places I wanted to go and that they had no interest in going anywhere exotic. I broke up with them and sunk my spoon into the devilish dessert again to get over the breakup.

L and I walked back to the office. Back to work and normal life. Our failed foray into Hawaii with two cute electricians left at Islands. The walk wasn’t long enough to work off dessert.

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1 Jan

Seven year curse

Posted by K in Only you, Relationships.

I am hoping that today is the end of the seven year curse.

Seven years ago last night, I broke up with my last boyfriend. While I think the curse may have been self imposed, I’m hoping today is the end of it.

I met him in 1992 at convocation in college. My Resident Assistant, upon learning that I was from Maine, introduced me to another RA from Maine. He was a grad student at the time. I thought he was cute, but at that point he seemed way too old for me. And I was painfully shy.

Over the next three and a half years, we bumped into each other occasionally. We had a favorite local band, Sirsy, in common. He’d occasionally sing a song with them. We’d chat and knew of each other’s existence, but never hung out together. Senior year, I went to a party at the house he shared with a friend, not knowing he lived there.

I moved to Boston in January of 1996. I had a boyfriend. Life continued. I moved to Connecticut. I moved back to school in upstate NY to be with my boyfriend. I ran into him again at the shows for Sirsy. My boyfriend and I broke up. We got back together. We broke up again. I moved to California. We got back together. We broke up for the final time. I moved back to Connecticut. That is a story for another time. Maybe in another decade or two.

It was April Fools Day of 2005. My grandmother, Nana was dying. The doctors said she had a week to live. I hopped in the car and drove to Boston for the night. Brother K and The President and I would drive up to Portland in the morning to see her during visiting hours. The President’s mom was dying of cancer, so they were spending the evening at her house. With nothing to do for the night, I saw Sirsy was playing at Government Center, so I took the T there.

I stood on the side, drinking my Guinness, trying not to be hit on by the old men at the bar. Across the room I saw two couples. One of the guys looked really familiar. It had been 13 years since we had met at convocation, but there in the bar, things clicked.

I hung out with the four of them for the night. They were all just friends. They gave me a ride home at 2 am. We drove for an hour because the Sumner Tunnel was closed and all the detour signs just sent us in circles.

Finally in East Boston, he dropped me off and gave me his card to call him. I felt like it was fate. I’m a big believer in fate. I know it goes against my other beliefs, but I like to think the universe is connected and conspiring.

Brother K and The President got home a few minutes after me. We were standing around talking in the kitchen when the phone rang. Nana had passed. IDad said she had gone early to open the gates for Pope John Paul II who passed just hours after.

Instead of visiting Nana, we went to her funeral. Grump had died a few years earlier. Aunt K had contacted the church to schedule his funeral for that Friday. We wrote up an obituary and got it in the paper. A day later, the church called back to say they couldn’t have the funeral that day because it was a holy day of obligation. We laughed because The Grump had always known every day of holy obligation and we, along with the church secretary, did not. We had a barbecue and played our first, but not last, game of Funeral Beer Wiffle Ball. We put The Grump’s ashes in his chair and got drunk and talked to him. It’s an Irish family. We told Nana that we’d bury him and her at the same time, but not to rush. The Grump made his rounds on people’s mantles, haunting them along the way.

We had a church funeral for Nana and Grump. The priest said they were going to heaven. We all looked at each other with glances that acknowledged the priest did not know Nana and Grump. We waited for the lightening to strike us down. It never came. I lost my faith a little more that day.

I went back to Connecticut and called him up. We arranged a date. He came to Connecticut from Rhode Island where he was living. My ex’s parents had given me the tickets they weren’t using for the symphony. He and I dressed up and went out for dinner in downtown Waterbury. At the symphony, I learned they were my ex’s parent’s extra tickets, not their tickets. I had to call my ex and explain how I accidentally went on a double date with his parents. Awkward.

But he survived. Our next date was to go to Maine for a funeral. My grandmother, Meme, her sister, Loise, had passed on. She’d been cremated in the winter and we’d waited until spring for the burial. Hard to bury people in Maine when the ground is frozen.

It had been raining fiercely for days. When we got to the cemetery, the hole for Louise’s ashes was filled with water. Meme exclaimed, “Well, she always did like to go swimming!” We all laughed—awkwardly, but with great relief. Meme said that she would come back on a dry day and do it then.

Back at the house, we played Funeral Asshole. This is the Swedish/British side of the family. The is how The President got her name. She is always The President. I was often the Asshole. But on this day, he ended up being Asshole because he was the new guy. And Asshole always gets trashed. Poor guy went off to the bathroom, and not knowing the house, walked into Meme’s room by accident. Luckily, she was awake and watching TV and directed him to the next door.

He survived the first two dates, so we kept dating. Before we’d started dating, I’d already gotten a job back in California and was moving. He started talking about moving out with me. He flew out with me. He even took one of the cats on the plane with him. At the airport, the TSA made us take the cats out of the bag to go through the metal detectors. I didn’t know which one to give him. I showed him how to hold them by their belly and the scruff of their neck. Do not let them get a foothold or they may run! Hold their spine against your chest, feet out. And hold on for dear life.

Luckily, both cats played possum and ran back into their airline carriers as soon as they had the chance. Neither said a peep the whole flight. We had a few hours to ourselves in California in my temporary housing before Meine Schwester, who’d been driving cross country to move to San Diego, decided that San Diego was too hilly and moved in with me. Two people, two cats, two dogs, in a one bedroom apartment for a month. He left two days later. I was amazed he was able to put up with the crazy that is my life.

He really is an amazing guy. One of those guys who would never forget a birthday or an anniversary. He’d be a fabulous husband and father. Stable and secure and all around amazing. He started talking about his grandmother’s wedding ring.

That is when the phantom ring started happening. I’d be walking the dog and suddenly freak out because I’d lost the ring. I’d be at work and freak out about it missing. It was my own Tell Tale Heart. It was weighing me down. I was freaking out and he hadn’t even proposed yet.

I tried to help him find a job in California. Turns out, women’s hockey is not popular out here, and he is a women’s hockey coach. I started feeling guilty because it would be the end of his career if he followed me out here.

Then a job was offered to one of his coworker’s but she didn’t want it. I told him to take it. How often does the opportunity to be the head coach of a national women’s hockey team come around? So he went off to China for nine months. Harbin, China. Known for their winter ice festival. They are the Bangor, Maine of China, except there are nine million people and they are located just below Russia and north of North Korea.

I helped him set up a blog because I wanted to hear about life in China, things he learned, experiences he had. To help play tech support, I started this blog. His blog petered off, mine continued to today.

He was miserable. Life there was terrible. But I was jealous. It was nine months to learn a language, explore a culture, see a part of the world and have stories to tell. He didn’t see it the same way. We had a different view on life experiences.

The team spent the month of November in Finland so that they could play women’s teams. In China, they only had men’s teams to play. I spent the week of Thanksgiving in Vierumäki with them. I learned more Chinese than Finnish. We got in trouble by the Chinese Government Spies for going into Helsinki alone. He reminded them we are Americans and they can’t tell us where we can or can’t go. The sun didn’t even come over the treeline at noon. I am miserable without sun. And I was freaking out about the relationship. I wanted to convince myself otherwise. I wanted to make it work. He is fabulous and I wanted desperately to love him.

We saw each other again for Christmas. We spent the week with his family and mine. I was sick as a dog and miserable. I was still trying to convince myself that he was the one, but I couldn’t and I hated that and I made myself sick over it. I tried all week to convince myself otherwise. I couldn’t.

It was New Years Eve. We went to the fireworks in Boston. It should have been perfect, but I was barely holding it together. We got back to East Boston and I couldn’t take it any longer. I told him it was over. I couldn’t wait a few more months until he was back in the states and I needed to do it in person. I felt miserable about it, but I knew he would feel a hundred times worse. And I felt horrible about that.

To him, it was out of left field. But I just couldn’t do it any longer. He wasn’t the one and I just had to rip the bandaid off. I flew back to California and he went back to China. I tortured myself for a few years because I deserved it. I had ruined the holiday for him. I’d broken his heart. I didn’t deserve love. I was a monster.

Now it is seven years later. I’ve had no relationships I can speak of. I’ve met a handful of guys that I wanted to date but it was never the right time for them. I’ll admit I’ve had a few one night stands that just made me feel lonely, so I stopped. I’ve had lots of first dates, but rarely any second dates, and just about no one gets to a third. I jokingly considered joining my friend in the convent in NYC.

But this is it. No more excuses. I’m releasing myself of the curse I self-imposed. This is my year.

Bring it, 2013! I’m ready!

23 Dec

Christmas Staycation, Day I

Posted by K in Only you, Travel.

This is my second staycation in as many months. A whole week to myself to do as I please. I don’t have a list yet, but I really should.

This morning was pouring rain, but I went out to pick up dog food and pet supplies, then stopped at the Farmer’s Market for fresh eggs, cheese, olive oil, and bread. I still needed milk for pancakes, so I had to stop at the grocery store. Being on vacation, I took my time. It was lunchtime when I arrived home, so I made a plate of bread, olive oil, cheese, and veggies to eat while sitting on the couch watching TV.

I spent the afternoon on Pintrest planning a wedding. No worries, it isn’t mine. It is Meine Schwester’s marital party. She isn’t engaged yet. Rocket Man has moved in and they are planning for an eventual day of bliss—including Rocket Man already picking out the bridal party—but we are all still waiting for the engagement part.

In the meantime, Meine Schwester is planning the party. She and I are not typical girls, so we’ve not taken the time to daydream about the day of the white dress before. That is where Pintrest and shared boards come in. We can search the Internet for fabulous ideas and pin them. That is what I did this afternoon.

While I’d been lounging on the couch, my friends from Portland, OR/Morocco were driving through snowstorms from Portland to get to SF. They didn’t arrive in time for dinner, but I took the train to SF for dinner anyways.

On the ride, I made arrangements to meet up with Hawaiian Lemur Girl for dinner at LuLu’s. I tried to invite more people, but it seems lots of people go to snowy places for the holidays. Who knew?

One of the antipasti had pasti in it. Gasp! Regardless, the beets, broccolini and squash were good. So was the margherita pizza.

From there, we went to the The View at the top of the Marriott to meet my friends from Portland.

I was happy to learn that my friends had actually slept somewhere in between last night and hadn’t actually drove from Portland today. That is a long drive.

After an evening of discussing cities and travel, they dropped me off at the train station and now I’m listening to two long-haired guys, one is an old-time hippie freak, the other works as a sys admin. The hippie keeps chickens, cats and dogs so he can eat them in an emergency after the Big One. The Sys Admin is just going to find someone with food and take theirs.

If any of you think you are going to get my food after the Big One, think again. I’ve told you that I’m prepared so that you will prepare. I’m not your mother and I’m not going to give you my food. Take care of yourself. My cat and dog are not dinner.

12 Dec

Roma, Dei II

Posted by K in Food & Wine, Only you, Photos, Travel.

I fell off the internet planet for the second half of my trip. I didn’t have free internet, so it kind of ruined it for me. Montacatini was awesome since the hotel there kept us happy with free wifi for all our devices. Roma and Sorrento hotels were stingy and charging. Sad. I guess I still never quite made it out of the DMZ from my trip to Korea either.

Roma, dei II, began with a trip to the Vatican. A country within a country. We were reminded of that often.

It was packed and hot and fast and I hated it. I’m sure I saw a ton of amazing art work, yet I feel like I didn’t really see any of it. I also felt that they must be hiding their best artwork because the museum was too humid and hot for their best works. I did not find religion there. I lost more religion than I found. The opulence was overwhelming as well as the surrounding poverty. I don’t believe in God, and I think Jesus was just a man, but I don’t believe that he would be happy with the Catholic Church. The great wealth they show is juxtaposed against the poverty of the city. If I were running the church, there would be homeless shelters everywhere and anyone would be welcome. I’d dress like Castro instead of like the Pope. There would be free meals at the Vatican for anyone who came. Simple meals, but you would never be hungry. Instead, I left the Vatican tired and bitter and starving. The Sistine chapel was a thing of beauty, as was St. Peter’s Basilica, but I didn’t see religion there. I saw amazing art with a religious theme.

When we escaped the small country within a country, Meine Schwester, Rocket Man, and I ran for it. We were angry and fighting and knew we were just hungry. We just needed a to find a place to eat. Away from the Vatican. Away from the tourists. Away from each other, but that wasn’t happening. We knew that if we ate and drank we’d stop fighting. But we bickered about which way to go. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t. Then we angrily agreed on a place, ordered our usual pizza and liter of vino rosso de la casa.

Fifteen minutes later, all was forgiven. Another fifteen minutes and we were ready to continue our adventures in Roma. We had the afternoon free. We’d told Super Mario that we wouldn’t be catching the bus back to the hotel and we’d find dinner and a ride home on our own. It was our only night out to explore and we were exhausted already.

We ventured to the southeast of Roma. Supposedly it was an up-and-coming area. I’d found a fountain to see. We started walking. Meine Schwester had a plan. She’d seen an advertisement for Lavazza and wanted to recreate it. That was our mission. We’d brought dresses and Rocket Man had a suit and tie. They were in our backpacks the entire time we were at the Vatican, waiting for the perfect moment that hadn’t come. This fountain was going to be it!

Then we got there. The fountain was empty. There were homeless people sleeping on park benches. A lot of graffiti. A couple people looked like they were on drugs. We sat down on a bench. I sat on the opposite side so we had a 360-degree view. Rocket Man didn’t understand at first, but Meine Schwester understood and was appreciative. We are overly paranoid. It is kind of fun.

We tried to plan our escape. We saw public transportation, but were unsure of how it worked. We were tired from walking so much, but decided to walk our way back to the Pantheon, with the idea that we would find a gelato place along the way. It never came.

We arrived at the Pantheon at dusk. The entire trip we avoided eating at places that were directly in view of the tourist attractions, but we were starting to get tired and angry again and needed a bottle of wine. A waitress beckoned us to sit at her table. It had a direct view of the Pantheon. We were weak. We succumbed.

We ordered another pizza and another bottle of wine. A little wine later, things seemed good again and we could stop fighting. A little wine more, and it was time to change. We asked the waitress, “Dove il bagno?”

“Oh, we don’t have one. But there is one down the street. Around the corner a block or two. It takes a euro. It is down there.”

“Seriously?” Our smiles turned to frowns. We’d eaten there hoping for a bathroom we could change in. Now our dreams were shattered.

“Sorry.” She walked away. We wondered what to do. The way she had pointed was not in the direction we’d wanted to go and we didn’t want to pay. Maybe we’d just go to Trevi Fountain and find another place to eat and use their bathroom. But we weren’t hungry anymore. Sigh.

The waitress came back. “Just kidding! It’s back there.”

Seriously.

She was pretty funny about it. I took my backpack and went to change. I had a bridesmaids dress from the wedding of Sparkles and Life Partner. I’m still waiting for Life Partner to leave Sparkles for me. ;-)

I came out of il bagno ready for a party. I sat back at the table amid the stares. The waitress appeared again to say, “You can’t sit there. My friend is sitting there. You’ll have to go.”

I laughed and Rocket Man went next. He came out in a suit and tie. Meine Schwester went back and came out wearing a dress she had custom made for the Marine Corp Ball.

The French women behind us asked if we were going to a wedding. We explained we were just doing it to take photos. I’d been playing with my camera trying to figure out some good night settings and get photos of the Pantheon. The table was the perfect place to hold still. Meine Schwester and Rocket Man stood up and I started shooting.

That is when the mime arrived.

Yes, The Mime.

He was pretty funny and we weren’t trying to get the best photos there. So he is in a few of them. He stole small children passing by and gave them to us. I wondered if the children were in on it and trying to steal stuff from us. They didn’t get anything.

We got a few cute photos, paid our bill and headed off to Trevi Fountain for the real photos. It is amazing how people will move out of your way for photos if you are wearing suits and ball gowns.

We shot a lot of photos at Trevi Fountain and came away with one good enough for Meine Schwester and Rocket Man to hang on their wall.

On to the Spanish Steps! We were surprised to see tons of people just sitting around on the steps. We took a couple photos at the base of the steps, and then Meine Schwester and Rocket Man moved towards the center of the steps.

That is when the whole crowd started singing.

Yes, singing.

We don’t know what they sang, but at the end, they kept clapping and cheering until Meine Schwester and Rocket Man kissed. After final applause, they returned to milling about. I wish that I’d recorded it on video.

After a few photos at the Spanish Steps and the serenade, we headed for the subway. Thinking about it now, we probably should have gone out for another bottle of wine or dancing, it being a Saturday night and all, but I’m guessing we were exhausted.

At the subway, we found the ticket machines wouldn’t take anything over five euro bills, but all we had were twenties. So Meine Schwester asked strangers to make change. Most people ignored us thinking we were begging, but one well-dressed couple noticed we were also well dressed and stopped to actually listen to what we were asking and made change for us.

Overdressed for the subway, we exited at our stop, walked the right direction down the street, and miraculously found our way back to the hotel. We had successfully navigated our way around Rome and had some great pictures to show for it!

12 Dec

Night out

Posted by K in Girls' Night Out, Karma, Only you.

I’ve been a bore lately. Actually, it has been more than a year. My excuse in the beginning was that I had to spend my nights and weekends working on the online class I was teaching. Even if I wasn’t working on it, I sat on my couch thinking I should work on it and feeling guilty about it.

In the spring when that ended and I finally felt like I was going to get my life back, I learned that Pablo had diabetes and Mitsy was dying of congestive heart failure. I learned how to give insulin shots every twelve hours and I spent as much time with the pets as possible. I brought Mitsy to the vets three weekends thinking that each time would be her last and bawling like the world had ended. I wasn’t much fun to be with.

It has been a few months since then. Mitsy has passed and I’m learning to manage Pablo’s diabetes. And I’m trying to figure out how to have a life around it. Now that Perl has torn her ACL and is not allowed to run or jump or play for eight weeks, you’d think I’d be home, but just the opposite. If I were home, Perl would want to be out of her kennel running and jumping and playing. Instead, I go home every few hours to walk her and let her stretch, then confine her again and leave. She just thinks I’m neglecting her and I don’t have to hear her whimper.

So Friday night was the company Christmas party. I got al dressed up and went out on the town. I and my feet in the four-inch heels are grateful for the ride home from my Cow-orker and SO. Saturday I stayed home all day, but Perl and Pablo slept all of it. So did I for that matter. Sunday I went to dinner at a friend’s house. He is practicing his gourmet cooking on a small group of us. I do miss Physics Goddess’s cooking!

Monday night I stayed home and had to fast after 8 pm for blood and urine tests the next day. I almost ate beets that night. Really, really, red, dark, staining beets. I stopped myself so the nurse wouldn’t freak out at the color of my urine.

Tuesday night I went out with Mountain Man’s friends. I’ve been out with them a couple times now but still think of them as his friends, so I’ll stick with that until they have names. It was her birthday. We went to Tony P’s on Park Ave in San Jose. They have lunch service, but no dinner service yet, so they let us bring in dinner from somewhere else until then.

We had a blast. I met a bunch of new people. They are a great group and I enjoy their Second Tuesdays out.

Tonight I went up to the city for a bizarro world version of an event that happened five years ago. This time the interviewer was the interviewee. A lot has happened in five years.

The event went well with free wine and tamales provided by local vendors. I met a couple new people, but tried to lay low for the most part. I was there to support my friend and his work.

On the way out, my friend was carrying luggage on his way to catch a red-eye flight. The car was waiting out front. As we walked up the stairs, his bag rubbed against the wire mesh net along the stairs and in the blink of an eye, was attached. We all tried detaching the bag. One of the wires had slipped inside the zipper pull. I bent a key and broke a nail trying to open the pull. Someone found a hammer and we used the claw to pry open the zipper pull enough to release the wire. Seriously, I can totally believe this freak thing happened to him. Maybe he needs to work on his karma points.

He dropped me off at the train station, but since the train only runs once an hour, I had twenty-seven minutes to kill, so I went to the restaurant across the street.

The place was packed at quarter past nine at night. There was no room at the bar, just a high table for six. I said I was just looking for a drink to waste a few minutes. The waiter seated me at the empty table so I could look down upon the crowd.

A guy walked in. He was looking to have dinner alone. I offered him to share my table. His name is Brandon. He lives in the OC. An accountant. In town for work. From Chicago. School in Wisconsin. Lives with roommates. We got as much in as we could in twenty minutes. My version of speed dating. But then I left him. I had five minutes to get to the train. I said I’d come back if I missed it.

I missed the light and had to stop. As I did, the girl standing on the corner said she loved my jacket. The color. The fit. The way I walked in it. Turns out she is a fashion design major. The light turned.

I made the train.

Do you wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t?

1 Dec

I’m not winning

Posted by K in Only you.

Today is just one of those days.

It started with an 8 am appointment at the dealership to get the third brake light on Myrtle replaced so that my car alarm will stop sporadically going off when it rains and short-circuit the trunk locking mechanism.

On the way out to check in the car, the attendant asked if I’d already paid for the part.

“No. I wish.”

After he walked out the door, the other attendant said, “You should have said yes. He wouldn’t have known.”

“I couldn’t. I need the karma points today. And this will probably be the least of my expenses today.”

I went to Starbucks to wait for my car. When I drink coffee, it is usually lattes. I drank straight espresso when I was in Italy (sometimes with a shot of brandy). But today, I decided to go with a cappuccino because it had fewer calories than a latte. The cashier asked me a question and I stood there unable to answer.

After my brain couldn’t process the question, I finally asked, “What do you mean?”

She explained that it was differing amounts of foam. I said I’d do the regular. Then she said, “They lay me to confuse you early in the morning before you have your coffee.” I laughed. Little does she know, I don’t drink coffee left-handed in the mornings.

My car was ready, so back home I went. Before going inside, I called the surgeon’s office to see if they could take us early since the car repair didn’t take all the time I’d allotted. They couldn’t, which was too bad because I couldn’t feed Perl and I didn’t want to spend an hour waiting with a hungry dog.

I spent the time cleaning. I was going to try to work but I couldn’t focus. Vacuuming seemed the best I could do. Then I changed my clothes so that if the vet was hot and single, I’d be ready. Then off we went. Perl was nervous before we even got to the car. I was trying to hide it but obviously didn’t do a good job.

The surgeon was cute, but eventually managed to work his girlfriend/wife into the conversation. We’d been joking about getting me some Valium. He told me about a guy who’d tried the stuff they give to the dogs. The first pill didn’t do much, so he took two more and was literally floored. He couldn’t move his body for twelve hours. I took the warning and said if just stick to good bottles of wine instead. That is when he said, “We” when talking about drinking some wine the other night. So I brought the conversation back to my dog’s injury.

Yes, it is a torn ligament in the knee. Yes, she should have surgery. There were two options for surgery. I chose the basic stabilization option rather the one that would take an extra hour, require cutting part of the bone, and would leave a big metal bar in her leg. We did talk about more conservative methods, and I’d thought about trying to let it heal on its own, but that would take eight weeks of not running or jumping. And at the end of that time she might still need surgery and another eight week recovery.

He said he had time in his schedule that afternoon. I decided that was better than taking her home and bringing her back. She still hadn’t stopped shaking after an hour.

Rip off the bandaid.

I paid the bill and left my dog.

I drove by work to pick up my weekly box of fruits and veggies. There was a sign for a blood drive that I’d wanted to go to. I decided that if I could find a parking space, then I could go to the blood drive. As I drive to the end of the first row, a guy pointed to the car he was about to get into. I smiled and waved and took his spot.

There was a problem though. I hadn’t consumed anything except the coffee and it was already 12:45. So I went to lunch at the caffe.

It was packed as always. More so because it was sprinkling outside. I found a free table, but felt guilty taking it for myself, so I tried to invite two women to join me. They were waiting for friends, so my table wasn’t big enough for them.

A few moments later, a nice looking guy asked if he could join me. Yes, please do!

We started chatting. Cute, British, travelled. I noticed the wedding ring, so I didn’t try to hard. We had a good conversation. Then I said adieu and headed for the blood drive.

Something seemed wrong. Like I was forgetting my computer or a bag or a package. Just my imagination.

Then I realized I wasn’t jingling. I always jingle at work.

No badge.

I retraced my steps back to the table. My lunch companion had been replaced by an Asian couple. I asked if they’d seen a badge.

“Yes! We gave it to the guy who was sitting here. He said he knew you and would get it back to you.”

“Oh! Thank you!” You just gave my badge to a stranger whom I just met less than half an hour ago. But at least he knows what I’m wearing today. And the blood drive I’m going to is in his building. Maybe he will find me there. But I can’t get into his building. Actually, I can’t get out of the quad. Well, I guess I could go this way.

Then my phone rang. He was waiting for me in the main building. I caught up with him there and we walked over to the blood drive. I said adieu again and went in search of some karma points.

The questioning part went well. I learned that all the foreign countries I’m hoping to go to in the next year are safe for me to continue giving blood.

The blood letting part didn’t go quite as well. The nurse put on a full, clear plastic face mask. I’d never seen anyone do that before. Turned out to be foreshadowing. When the nurse put the needle in my arm, blood exploded out. She told me not to look. There was blood splatter all over my arm and some on her.

“I told you not to look.”

“I was curious.”

She cleaned up some of it. I started pumping, but very gently for fear of another geyser. I swore blood was leaking out everywhere, but I was no longer looking.

They put that nurse on break and gave me a new nurse who cleaned up the mess after I’d finished my blood letting. “Eight minutes on a small needle. Pretty quick!” she said.

“I felt like it would never end!” I think I was anxious to get the blood cleaned up. As far as I knew, there was a puddle collecting under the arm rest.

I decided that I was allowed to eat a cookie even though it wasn’t on my diet. I wasn’t even close to passing out, but I thought it was better to be safe than sorry.

While waiting, I planned out the dinner menu.

They gave me a grocery bag that I used immediately for my fruit and veggie delivery. I stopped by the grocery store to pick up the remaining items. Something about not lofting heavy things after giving blood made me carry my groceries around the store, including a bag of potatoes and a half gallon of milk.

While wandering aimlessly through the store, the surgeon called to let me know that pre-op had gone well and he was about to take Perl into the operating room. I wished him luck. I really wanted to say, “You’d better be good at this,” but felt that would be detrimental.

I got home and it was weird not to have a dog to walk. She wasn’t jumping around the house. She wasn’t whining. She didn’t run to the door when the doorbell rang.

Princess K came over for dinner. We had roasted beet salad as well as sautéed celeriac and chard. I also pulled out some leftover squash soup and the Schweddy Balls with pesto. An eclectic group of veggies.

I was grateful to have Princess K there to keep me occupied while Perl was gone.

After she left, I actually went out on a date. Just a beer at a local pub. It went well, but he was a little too pushy about wanting to come over to “cuddle”. I don’t let anyone know where I live after a first or second date. And he was offended that I didn’t believe he is such a standup guy. Truth is, I don’t really want to date a guy who is willing to go home with a strange girl after one drink. I’ll admit to a couple one night stands, but they were never complete strangers. I want to be able to find the other person in case something goes horribly wrong.

So, I went home alone. For the best. I needed some sleep. It had been a very long day.

27 Nov

Staycation Failure

Posted by K in Only you, Pets, Photos, Travel.

Two days after my week-long staycation ended, I’m now realizing the true cost of my week at home. It will turn out to be ridiculously expensive.

My goal last week was fitness. And I incorporated Perl into as much of the running, walking, and hiking that I could. She and I traveled 3-5 miles or more every day.

But I noticed that she didn’t sprint at Fort Funston. And after naps, she’d hold up her back leg a little. But it seemed to work itself out. By yesterday, she’d been favoring it enough that it was time to go to the vets. I’d found some big lumps of fatty tissue under her skin. The ones on her back legs are much bigger than the ones on her neck. And I’m petrified that she will get hip dysplasia like her pug cousins.

So Perl spent the morning at the vets getting drugged up, x-rayed, and a sample taken from the lumps.

The verdict? I’m a horrible, horrible dog owner.

Perl’s hips look great! And there’s no sign of arthritis. The lab on the bumps will be back later. As for her back leg, she has a torn ligament in her knee and now has to have knee surgery.

She has an exam with the specialist on Thursday to discuss surgery.

Poor Perl.

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17 Sep

Karma++

Posted by K in Only you, Uncategorized.

Perl and I went out for our morning morning constitutional.  Just after passing the carports, she stopped to poo.  About two feet away, I spotted a plastic, blue checkbook.

I looked inside.  The address wasn’t in my complex.  And there was no phone number.  So I put the checkbook in my pullover and went on our walk.

When we returned back to my condo, I emailed the management company to see if there are any owners by that name.  I went for years without changing the address on my checkbook.  It still said Connecticut.  Even the bank name had changed during that time.  The routing number was still the same, so I figured it was okay.

Her bank was Wells Fargo.  Not exactly a local bank that would know all its customers by name.  I looked through the registry, just out of curiosity.  Maybe there would be a small, local store that would know her.  Nordstrom’s, Macy’s, the IRS.  I felt dirty for looking, so I stopped.

The management company responded.  She didn’t own a place in the complex.  I decided I’d just mail it to her.  But by the time she got it, she definitely would have cancelled all the checks and wondered where she had left it. I have a better plan.

I was scheduled to have lunch with a friend, M—he doesn’t have a name yet, and don’t get excited, he isn’t single—so I asked if we could go early because I had “errands to run in Los Gatos.”  He said sure.

We were five minutes down the road before he asked, “What errands?”

“I found a checkbook and want to return it to get the karma points.”

Only me, right?  He was excited to be included on one of my “adventures”.  This was bound to be blog worthy.

So we drove to Los Gatos and found the house.  No cars in the yard.  There was a mailman on the street.  I went up to the front door and knocked, ready with my, “I’m looking for C” speech.

No one answered.  I wasn’t particularly surprised.  I looked around for any identifying information.  A “Welcome to C’s House” mat.  Something on the door.  Nothing.  But I had a backup plan.  The postman.

I walked up to the truck and asked, “Excuse me.  Is this C’s house?”

He looked skeptical.  He thought for a moment that this was a question he shouldn’t answer.  I used my vulcan mind tricks on him and convinced him to answer.  ”Yes,” he said timidly.

“Sweet!” I said excitedly as he recoiled, so I continued, “I found a checkbook and just wanted to return it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.  I could use the karma points.  Where is the mailbox?”

“Follow me.”  It was a slot on the side of the garage behind a bush.  I never would have found that.

I slipped the checkbook through the slot.  Just then, I wished I’d left a note in it.  Something like, “Pay it forward,” or “Check this website for the story of your checkbook,” but I hadn’t done it earlier.  Now it was too late.  Eh.

I walked back to the car and exclaimed as if I’d just leveled up in a video game, “Karma points earned!  Now we can go to lunch!”

Since we were in Los Gatos, I reluctantly suggested Enoteca La Storia.  Reluctantly because I knew I would enjoy it too much and spend too much time there and that I might lose all of the karma points I’d just earned.  A friend works there during the days, so we asked her for recommendations.  The fresh, spreadable mozzarella with the owner’s homegrown, heirloom tomatoes on toasted bread with fresh basil was just as they had described it. “Hedonistic.”  Paired with a pinot grigio.  And the Hazelnut and Chocolate cake with shaved bacon (it was barely any bacon—I’ve eaten more of my own skin grating parmesan cheese) was to die for.

Supposedly, a decadent meal is not cause for losing karma points, but this one was sinful.

I still think I’m up at least one karma point though.  I’m trying to save them up for Italy.  I might need them.

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