Let's do a weekend recap!
Friday, Nora and I went to see XXX. I am so in love with Vin. He's fabulous and I don't care WHAT anyone says, the movie was great. He could make a toilet paper commercial and I'd sit through it over and over and over. As long as he took his shirt off in it. hee hee. We picked Caryn up at the station after the movie, went home...and DYED HER HAIR. It looks so great. Better than great. She looks hot as a redhead.
Saturday was clean up the house, get ready for the party day. Cleaned the rugs, bought some booze, etc. The party was nice... fun to have everyone in the same house for a bit. We even got super nerdy and played Settlers... *sigh* we're hopeless.
Katinka slept on my bed on Saturday night and even came out (in a mad dash) to the living room last night. She's very silly... she will pounce and play as long as I pretend not to care if she plays with me. She's successfully avoided all of my attempts to Scoop N Snuggle since Saturday. Jenn calls it my Military Tactic. I'll just have to be extra crafty when I come home tonight... so we can have successful scoopin and snugglin. She's so frickin cute. I am in love with a cat.

Katinka Inga Borgovina NaNa made friends with her litter box last night. There is a God afterall, my friends.
Caryn is coming tonight! I'm so glad! The party tomorrow will be small, it turns out, but nice. The regulars, hanging out, doing the regular thing. Maybe we'll get a chance to cheat Corey and Amy at Asshole?? hee hee.

Anna went into false labor today. FALSE. Why, God, why must it be false?!!?!?

What am I supposed to do with a kitten that won't use a litterbox!?!?!? My rug is not a litter box!!! This is driving me nuts.

I just had some really great Katinka break-throughs! The previously SILENT kitten now purrs. Not only does she purr when I pet her, she purrs when I talk to her. AND, she played with a catnip mouse WITH me. Tadum! We're gettin' there folks. One day she might actually even come out from under the bed. THAT will be a good day.
Have I mentioned I love this kitten??

New York was a whirlwind of fun! Caryn and I had a grrrrreat time at Webster Hall on Saturday Night. Dancing fools, we are! Katinka joined us on Sunday. Very freaked out and still kinda sick. We had a little vet visit yesterday, and I think the situation is already vastly improved. She's not a real big fan of me dragging her out of under the bed to give her antibiotics and gooey eye medication, but she'll thank me for it one day. When she does let me hold her, she's very sweet and has THE cutest little face you've ever seen. Her tiny white paws are what fascinate me. Jenn and I adore her. So what if she never ever wants to come out of under my bed. She's cute as hell.

Dinner tonight with Mike Lewis, off to New York tomorrow with Eleanor and then on to spend some QUALITY time with Caryn, and THEN, pick up my Katinka!
Honestly kids, I'm exhausted. This weekend is going to be great, which is keeping me going. But after Sunday, it's crash time. I've been pulling 10 hour days at work, sans lunch, doing ACTUAL work, which you all know is quite foreign to me. I've had the whole moving/setting up house thing to contend with (good news, the curtains are finally up and I have found a way to circumvent the broken phone jack issue and now, once again, am on line at home). Plus, this heat is really getting to me. I don't sleep well when it's so darn hot and humid. It's gotta break soon. The heat will or I will.

Heather & Caryn
Constant Contentment versus... not

HLH5: But isn't part of the greatness of our being happy due to the fact that we can look back and compare now to how it was then??
See Solly: is it?
HLH5: I think so. When it's all the same, you take it for granted
See Solly: There definitely is merit to that, totally. But if i had a choice in the matter, I'd choose to be happy
HLH5: All the time?
See Solly: Why not?
HLH5: I benefit from suffering -- even a little suffering. My writing, my appreciation of people, my understanding of human plight...
See Solly: I do too, of course
HLH5: I woulnd't give that up
See Solly: What are you living for? My goal in life IS to be happy all the time. I wouldn't turn that down
HLH5: My goal is to be complete
See Solly: Then that is where we differ and why we think what we think - ta daaa!
HLH5: Absolutely

It's about the Ups & Downs

Amid the irritating glitches of poor cell-phone connections,Caryn and I were talking the other night, (both of us in a minor funk about work and other miscellaneous stresses), when we stumbled upon the realization that we were, despite minor funks of various kinds, very happy. The year 2002 did not start out in a grand fashion -- January and February being months blighted by disappointments and frustrations -- but slowly, transitioning from month to month, things improved (On a personal level, I will admit it was greatly my attitude doing the improving.), and here we are in August, quite content. Certainly there are funks (some tepid, and some coming to a rapid boil), but overall, I am glad to say, I am pretty satisfied with me.

Jenn and I had a related chat yesterday evening while lounging, listening to Leah Siegel. Seems like I'm doing a lot of therapeutic chatting these days... (Perhaps it's to take my mind off this heat, and these aggravating, sticky streams of sweat that don't seem to shower away). Would we rather be constantly and completely happy or complex and at times, pretty pathetic and tragic? Jenn's vote was for complex. Happy all the time would be boring, she said. I have to agree. I think it was a character in Vanilla Sky who said something about having to taste the bitter to appreciate the sweet. God, I hate the bitter. And I do so love the sweet. But bitter certainly does inspire an appreciation for the sweet... and well, we all know that too much sugar can give you a headache, a toothache and make you intolerably hyper. And fat. Don't forget fat.

Like the Duchess and the poor, poor Ass-Baby.

Thank you for calling...

A celebration is in order. This morning, when I opened my work email, there was a New Staff Announcement. Her name is, coinceidentally, Heather. She will start working tomorrow (8/14), and she will be... ANSWERING PHONES. A receptionist. Without any advance notice, a big bright ray of hope has shined upon me. Resolution. Starting tomorrow, I'm in my new corner office space, ALL day long. No more half-days pretending I don't have a degree, pushing that damn blinking button on the phone, faking enthusiasm when I say,
"Thank you for calling the Stubbins Associates"
and grinding my teeth when I hear,
"Is this the Stubbins Associates?"
"Did I stutter?"

New apartment, (re)new job, new kitten. New, new, new. Nice.

If you love me, you'll come to my house for a party on the 24th. I'll e-vite ya, but here's fair warning.

Little Joe Cook & the Lady at the Beauty Shop

He's ancient. Jenn will tell you that he's 102, and looking at him, that will not seem a huge exaggeration. He's tiny. I was taller than this man by at least a head. And he sings blues/funk/jazz at the Cantab Lounge on a somewhat regular basis. And he was adorable.
"Lady, at the beauty shop... you make my heart go bip-ber-de-bop" No lie... those are Little Joe's lyrics. He's like a piece of walking, singing folk art -- the man that time forgot. And I couldn't help but buy his CD (which he autographed!). I don't think Nora was as impressed with his CD as I was... but perhaps you have to have the full Little Joe Experience to understand my new amor.
On another note, this coming weekend promises to be a full one! I'll be heading down to NY to dance, write and adopt a kitten with my girl, Caryn. Perhaps, as a result of the weekend, you'll even see a sequel to Justin Timberlake Goes to Vermont. We'll see.

The move could not have gone any better! Thanks to everyone who helped make it go so smoothly!

Dear Girl in Front of Me:

It's not so much that I'm in a rush. Though I'm sure it seems that way as I give you that lookand brush past you. I am annoyed by your cutesy, giggly handholding and matching androgynous, Abercrombie's Bitch, urbanite clothing (you are squeezed much too tightly into yours-- which makes you a greater offense than him, by far.). An even greater offense is your choice of footwear. You watch too much Sex and the City. You love Carrie just way too much. And you're out here, on the cobblestone streets of little Cambridge, Massachusetts (dressed in your non-gender-specific, trendy clothing) and FOUR INCH HEELS. You are not Carrie. Go home and change your shoes.
But, before you do that, let me help you correct the biggest mistake you're currently making and MOVE YOUR BODY TO ONE SIDE OF OF THE SIDEWALK. I realize the two of you want to walk next to each other, as to optimize this time you have together, between Pac Sun and Starbucks... but in the middle of the sidewalk? And when I'm late for work? Ok, not your fault that I'm late... but this is AMERICA. We, with the exception of cab drivers and the elderly, drive on the right side of the road. And we walk on the right side of the sidewalk. I think they must have forgotten to include that information in your latest Abercrombie Catalog, so I am providing it for you now. Think of it as my public service for the day.
So, let's just recap for good measure: Get out of the middle of the sidewalk. Go home and change your shoes. And for GOD'S sake, thongs belong BELOW the line of your jeans.
But really, thank you for coming to our humble little Cambridge on your prospective college visit to Harvard with your boyfriend. There is no way you're getting in.

I have changed my address with the post office, my credit cards and all the utility companies.
I have spared my friends (excpet my poor, dear roommate) the horror of moving my clothes and shoes by taking them over in a car last night.
I have already lost/misplaced my new key (it will turn up).
And now, I must finish packing the horror that is my room, dismantle dismantle-able furniture and prepare for Saturday.

Moving is such a delectible nightmare with which I have a love/hate relationship. Anything new is good by me. Getting to new, however, is that laborious part that I resent. Thank you, wonderful friends, in advance for your help. Dinner Saturday is on me.

Oh... here... this is so funny:


Who's Your 80s Movie Icon Alter-Ego? Find out @ She's Crafty

Savasana

Bikram Yoga, or Hot Yoga, was one of the most intensely demanding experiences I have purposefully exposed myself to. The temperature in the room was over 105 degrees; the amount of sweat pouring from my body was clearly more than I'd sipped from my Dasani bottle during the day. The weight of my own body became nearly insupportable as I twisted and balanced and bent in ways I would never have imagined myself doing. The impossibility of it, as I imagined it, was the greatest challenge. My physical body, I'm certain, can withstand much more than the limitations my psyche imposes upon it. And at my breaking point, when it did not seem there was enough strength or water in my body to support even my own breath, the voice of my Yogi would puncture that natural fibre bubble and ease all my shaking muscles and strained mind with one word: Savasana. In Hindi, it is the Corpse Pose. Complete rest. Dead still. The lights would be turned off and eventually the soft sitar music would enter my consciousness and I would breathe deeply, sometimes tears forming in my eyes, using up what remaining moisture was left in my body. Savasana. Complete rest.

Thomas Paine, I believe, once said, "These are the times that try men's souls." A timeless observation of the cyclical nature of human suffering. We have obligations and emotions from which we cannot detach ourselves. We have relationships and loyalties that defy rational thought. And we have mental yoga sessions, so demanding and exhausting, that if one more drop of our precious emotional hydration is spent, if we do not hear that voice calling us to rest, we just may reach our limitations. Rehydration of our willpower isn't found in a plastic, over-priced bottle of water. Such relief comes only by something as sweet as the milk of human kindness, I think.

And in those times, when I am spent, and my entire self is bent and twisted in ways I did not know wouldn't break me, all I can do is hold the position, blinking back the sweat that stings my eyes, and wait for that voice to finally, calmly say, as someone swithes off the lights, "Savasana."

Weekend Do's and Don't's

On Friday, do not be late to see Goldmember. Or any top-grossing film in its second week, for that matter. Why? Because ANY actor's head will look distorted from the front row where you will be sitting, craning your neck to take in the enormity of the picture. My take on the film? Well, let's look at it from a skin point of view: Goldmember eats his, Beyonce shows hers off and Fat Bastard has it in excess. Thumbs down (disgusting), Thumbs up (she's gorgeous), and Thumbs down (um, gross). Over all, a very funny flick. It did end a bit weakly... but I'm not complaining. Oh, and DO watch gorgeous Vin Diesel in The Fast and the Furious.

On Saturday, do spend the day at the beach sitting next to Gerald Ford (aka Tim) when it's a zillion degrees out. Why? Because even though the water is hypothermia-inducing, it sure as hell beats the heat exhuastion alternative. And do spend the evening recovering on Mike's couch watching Zoolanderand downing half a bag of rippled potato chips. Yum.

Do take a look at my newly painted ceiling. I did it all by myself, kiddies and my hair is STILL brown. And for all intents and purposes (minus the curtains and such), the room is finished. Hooray! Do volunteer to help me move in this Saturday :)

And last, but not least, DO congratulate Sassy and her husband on their new arrival!! Hunter Elizabeth was born yesterday at 7pm. I can't wait to meet her in two weeks!

I have been so busy at work! No, it's not a lie, and yes, I'm still at the same job. I just got invovled in a super cool project that actually involves creativity and skill. Skill. At my place of employment. Can you believe it?? I scarcely can.

Blogging Passport

I've noticed that I get a lot of visits on the GoddessBlog from other countries--New Zealand, Canada (oh-so-foreign), Mexico, Brazil, Germany, France, etc. If you're one of those foreign bloggers stopping by, leave me a comment! I'd love to see how many stamps I can get in my blogging passport.

Shan't let a day pass in which I do not mention my hatred for Anna.

All I Have to do is Dream

Woke up in the middle of a terrible nightmare about Caryn. I didn't dare fall back asleep to finish it, because honestly, it didn't look like things were going to end on a happy note. I don't remember much... just lots of blood (gross, I know), which I'm thinking is related to the fact that Caryn volunteered at the Blood center last night. Let's hope.
I wonder, sometimes, where these dreams come from.

My work friend, Mike, walked by yesterday and leaned in to my desk. "You hussy!" he said. I automatically looked down to make sure I wasn't revealing any non-cleavage (that flat plane on my chest where most gals would have two breasts meeting each other), and sure enough, I wasn't. "Huh?" "I had another randy dream about you last night. " Then he laughed and walked off. No, this is not sexual harassment. Mike and I have talked like this for as long as we've known each other and he's never had any problem telling me when I appear in one of his NC17 dreams. Why? Probably because he sees no connection with what his dreaming mind creates and what he actually thinks about me, consciously.

Did you have a dream last night?

And Then, it Was Green

The week did not fly by. Hours of sanding, spackling, caulking and cleaning gave me blisters, sore arms and most likely, paint-coated lungs. Heather, did you eat paint chips as a kid?? Uh, yeah... kinda.

A girl can come up with a concise list of true friends after subjecting them to trials of manual labor from which they aren't gettin' jack squat. Jenn and Nora suffered along side me, doing things that were not what you'd call fun. They sanded, dusted, primed and spackled (though, not in that order), and haven't blocked my phone calls, threatened me with bodily harm, or thrown anything gross at me.

Jonathan was kind enough to spend hours chauffeuring me around for supplies, taping and painting, and even spray painting my once-ugly radiator to a lovely satin-finish white. It's funny how something so silly as a white radiator can make me so happy. But perhaps the kindest act he performed came after rolling the initial coat of a shockingly green paint onto the blank walls, and I had a sudden attack of regret. It had been a primed, clean, flat white. And then, it was green. It wasn't what I'd anticipated. Hours of work gone by and I'd put this color all over?? But he told me it looked great. I hadn't even expressed my dismay, or cried (which is what I wanted to do), and he said it was perfect. So I stepped back, and had to agree. It did look great. Not what I'd pictured. But maybe even better. Even Jenn's brother, Mark, said it looked really good with the white trim. Sigh of relief.

A big thanks to my very kind and very handy friends. I couldn't do it without you. If you ever need a kidney... I'm your girl.

We made the first Katinka purchase this weekend, too. A pet carrier. I'm not going to want to put that little ball of fluff into a cage when I'd certainly rather be holding her, and petting her ("naughty pet!") ... but I guess there are rules when it comes to trains and kittens.

The end.
Today, I really hate Anna.