Pandas and Extended Nudity With Friends: Beth Returns From Vacation!

So, phew, where to begin? It’s been a mighty long time since last I posted anything, so there’s much to catch up on.

Let me start by thanking the Johnson clan for putting me up in their lovely home for a few days and for showering me with the gifts of homemade naan and roasted Tandoori Chicken. Taste-eeeee! These folks put on an amazing feast every time I see them and this was no exception. Props to Tony for giving me WORD (You rock, little man) and to Sophia for a great picnic with the Care Bears. Here’s to more bizarre memories that we won’t be able to remember 20 years from now! Scavengers? I’m so glad I finally got off my behind and came down for a visit, just as I’ve threatened to do for years and years, it was definitely worth it.

Which brings me to the PANDAS. Pandas! Wheeee! Live, cuddly, snuggly pandas. Life is just totally worth being giddy over after you’ve watched a panda sitting in a tree, eating some bamboo, being all snuggly and panda-like. It’s just cuteness on a ridiculous scale. They should come with the same warnings that I feel baby otters should be issued. Do Not Look Directly Into The Cuteness. Can you tell I went a little panda-happy, folks? Can I also mention that you can buy a shot glass at the zoo with a picture of a baby panda on it? Does that seem….not quite right?

Which NEXT brings me to the wine country. Wine country! Wheeeee! Land of full-bodied cabernets and brie by the truckload – Beth was truly in paradise. The only way it could have been better was if the pandas actually came with us and served up the brie and wine (a plan I am actually working on, by the way). In an attempt to detox from the past few weeks/months, Beth and her travel companion Stacy decided to hit the spas for the famous Calistoga mud baths during our stay.

This seemed like a good idea at the time. Again, I repeat. A good idea at the time.

It wasn’t until we entered the mud bath room at the spa and stared at the giant vats of mud before us that we realized – Holy. Crapola. We will. Have to be. Naked. In the mud. Next to each other. Together. Without. Clothing on.

After much sputtering and staring and awkward glances we sucked up our dignity, sucked in our tummies, closed our eyes and the next thing we knew we were sitting in a vat of hot mud in the buff. We’re definitely crossed a line that friends usually don’t cross on vacations. (This line is called the Sitting Naked In a Vat of Hot Mud For $75, by the way).

Was it all worth it? Let’s say I’ve seen a lot in a week’s time, and that’s not a bad thing sometimes.

Home on a School Day

I was feeling deeply under the weather today so I decided to stay home from work and have a sick day. Can I just reiterate how BORING sick days are when you're an adult? One one side, yes you're not at work, so that's a good thing. But at what cost? Not only is there nothing good on TV, but there's no one to call up and keep you company. The biggest highlight of my day came from discovering which of my neighbors were home in the middle of the day on a Thursday.(Hint: LOTS OF THEM.)

One of my greatest joys when I was a kid on a sick day was having my mom come up to my room and make my bed because, as a nurse, she had the magical ability to make the bed WITH ME STILL INSIDE OF IT. We're talking fitted sheets, people. This skill still boggles my brain. I can't even straighten up a comforter with my cat on the bed. Can someone please diagram for me how you do this? I'd like that to be my Party Trick the next time I find myself in a group of strangers.

My biggest accomplishment today consisted of sleeping for nearly 20 of 24 hours. I best get my behind back to the daily grind.

Another Open Letter from Beth

Can I just share with the free world that I woke up this morning at 1:53 this morning to find not one, not two, but like FIVE spider/mysterious bug bites on my body in the middle of the night?

Open Letter to the Spiders Living In My Bed:

Listen guys, I know summer is headed to an end. I know you're looking for a place to camp. I know you have families to think of. I know my high thread-count sheets are appealing. But BACK THE HELL OFF. Seriously.

As a PR professional, I realize that spiders have a tough rap to beat. You're rarely listed among the most snuggly of creatures. Hiding around my pillows and nibbling at my wrists and face isn't helping that any. Your heeby-jeeby rating is OFF THE CHARTS right now.

Did you not happen to notice that I have a 20-pound furball of a cat sleeping right next to me? Why would you attack me and not her? I'm trying to help you here by pointing out other candidates for attack -- next time either focus on the furry feline, or better yet just skip my place altogether.

Your pal,
Beth

Coffee. Grounds. (Beth weighs the risks)

Sorry folks, but the blogging about anti-depressants continues.

If you're one of the FREAKS that enjoys reading about Beth's life on a regular basis, then this is what you get these days. Part of me feels strange for blogging about this ongoing dilemma I've been having, like I'm letting the free world know all-too much about my intimate, personal problems. But isn't that exactly what defines a blog in the first place? Wish it could be all about my British supermodel boyfriends with thick, black nerdy eyeglasses, but alas...Plus, the more I'm reading up on the topic and talking to people about it, the more I'm starting to realize, for better or worse, how commonplace these little magic pills are and how non-taboo they are. I feel almost ashamed for not recognizing that -- for assuming everyone else has perfectly-formed lives free from problems and that I'm the weirdo with the problem.

So ANYWAY. I have Contacted My Doctor and Taken Action. And predictably I have gone on the Internet to find out about more possible side effects of my medication. Including the following -- which I'm sorry, but if this is not material for a stand-up comedy routine or a David Sedaris essay I don't know what is:

"Tell your doctor immediately if any of these highly unlikely but very serious side effects occur: unusual muscle stiffness, fast/irregular heartbeats, chest pain, black stools, vomit that looks like coffee grounds, easy bruising/bleeding, unusual bleeding, seizures."

Really? This beats staying home alone on the weekends in a coma watching a marathon of "Good Times" on TvLand? Are you absolutely, positively SURE?

So the long, strange trip begins.

Stuff on my Cat.com

Stuff On My Cat.com.

Someone at work forwarded this link on a lazy Friday afternoon and ever since then I have seen it EVERYWHERE. I've also referred many a friend to this site when they need a pick-me-up. I think the world is slowly starting to revolve around Stuff On My Cat.com and I'm not sure that's a bad thing.

Given that Mrs. Puff is headed up on 20 pounds, she better watch her back. She has the potential for LOTS of stuff being balanced on her ginormous tummy.

The countdown begins

Reasons to perk up a bit after several posts this week about how down in the dumps I'm feeling lately:

1.) Seriously, Beth, your life could be a LOT WORSE right now.
2.) I am going on not just ONE vacation at the end of the month (San Diego), but TWO (then to Napa).
3.) On those vacations I am going to see panda bears, my boyfriend Tony Johnson (age 1), and hopefully a massage therapist named "Maverick" or "Gunner."
4.) My new crisp white IKEA duvet cover makes me feel like I'm sleeping in a hotel every night. The matching bedskirt, not surprisingly, fits strangely and was impossible to put together on my bed. Lesson learned: IKEA ONLY GOOD FOR SO MUCH. Second unrelated lesson learned: IKEA MEATBALLS = YUMMY NUMMY GOODNESS.
5.) See reason number 1 again. Repeat often.

Catching up with old friends

In addition to being remiss about blogging, I've also been remiss in checking in on the blogs I used to track. Man, I used to be religious about checking in with the same 5-6 blogs every morning. They got to be like virtual friends, people whose lives I followed and cared about in some lurking, stalker-like way. Clearly if you're reading this you understand what I'm saying?

ANYWAY. Today I went and looked up my old blogs. One gal had lost her job. Another was writing about her friends moving away and how bummed it made her feel. It was nice to hear about what they were up to, to reconnect in a sense with people I've never connected with directly.

In case you're wondering why I'm rambling about this, it DOES relate to my previous post about anti-depressants. I'm still thinking about getting something, but part of me realizes too how much better I always feel after I call or write or read or hang out with PEOPLE. I feel like I've lost connections with a lot of things lately -- I'm finding a lack of interest in things I usually care more about -- reading, writing, knitting, mocking, walking...blah blah blah. The sofa has been very comforting lately, it has low expectations of me, which I find all-too soothing.

But here's the rub. Part of me is starting to think that the solution might not be in a magic pill, but more in just getting out and experiencing the world rather than sitting home during the weekends stewing in asocial solitude.Intellectually, I know that's what should happen. I know what the solution should be. And yet, maybe the magic pill could help to get me out in the world in the first place? Does one lead to the other? Coax it out somehow? Or are they not related at all?

The traditional Midwesterner in me is telling me to buck up, get things figured out and quit looking for drugs to solve my problems. The new-agey West Coaster in me is telling me to ask for help when I need it and stop feeling guilty about needing it in the first place. Feeling philosophical tonight. No easy answers here.

A very strange reason that I love my mom

I'm recalling an all-too personal conversation I had with my mom while in Denver that made me realize how much I like her.

It involves a conversation about antidepressants. I admitted to her that I was thinking of asking my doctor for something to help get me over this slump I've been in lately. And first of all, she didn't blink an eye about that. In fact she offered advice for how to do it. (Imagine now my mom with a cigarette in one hand and a V-8 in the other) "You go in there, you say look here pal, there've been a lot of nights lately at home alone watching TV and not going out and I just need some damned happy pills."

First of all, I enjoy that my mom would say to her doctor, "Look here pal..." (and anyone who knows my mom knows that's EXACTLY what she would say) and secondly I love that she offered advice about how to ask for what she refers to as "happy pills" without asking me any awkward questions.

Drugs. Are. GREAT.

Looks like the bi-weekly posting is the new norm and I'm trying hard not to feel guilty about that.

Would it help to mention that I'm totally dizzy and high right now from painkillers due to a dental procedure this afternoon? Can I mention how FREAKING GREAT PRESCRIPTION PAINKILLERS ARE? I mean, seriously, that was one of the best $10 co-pays I have paid in a long time. Maybe I should do that more often and there will be more to post about! Wheeeeeee! Get me, swallowing codeine and then BLOGGING! The minor tummy trouble is nothing compared to this fuzzy feeling. I might go find me a tractor or some other heavy machinary and operate it. Labels be damned!

So. Ahem. Yeah. Let's see how to sum up my life over the past few weeks:

1.) Went to Denver for my mom's birthday. Had minor freak out over fact that parents are getting older and that the day will come when they, um, won't be there anymore. Instantly surpressed those feelings by going to Southwest Plaza with my mom and letting her buy me a new skirt to wear to work.

2.) Finished the new Harry Potter book. I give it a 5 out of 10. Not the best in the series, but it's definintely got my appetite geared up for the final chapter to come in the next book. Can we even talk about that sex scene between Herminone and Hagrid? You think I'm joking about that? Only the true Harry geeks will know for sure.

3.) Went to the dentist and got. Some. Prescription. Drugs. My attention span is aboutthislong. Better sign off because my laptop is starting to swirl.

weeeeeeeeeeeee....

Birthday Shouts Out!

A big, fat, "we've known each other since the days of poodle perms" Birthday Shout Out to my amiga Rachel -- hope you crank up the Erasure, peg your pants, dig out your AP history book and snarf down a Chocolate Chipper like it's 1987 all over again, girlfriend.

Also a shout out to my dad (the man, the myth, the LEGEND), whose birthday was this weekend and if he's actually sitting there reading my blog about his birthday right now, then we know Beth is in for a helluva lot of trouble moving forward.

Cool your jets, gentle readers

Clearly hell HAS frozen over, because I've finally gotten back in the blogging saddle and returned to update the world with my daily minutia! There just hasn't been that much going on worth noting, plus I've been deeply lazy and out of sorts lately. Let's see....

It's been a pretty mellow summer so far. Seattle (State Motto: "We don't NEED no stinkin' summer") has been all-too mild and overcast. I'm tired of hearing about states where there is "sun" and "heat." Who are you people?

On the travel front, I'm looking forward to returning to the Mile High Homeland in a little over a week. Then it's off to San Diego for some nostalgia with my junior high poodle-perm-compadre and then finally off to Napa Valley for some convertible-driving, spa-visiting, merlot guzzling goodness with my SSB.

I've become hooked on the VH1 reality shows "The Surreal Life" and "Celebrity Fit Club," only because it gives me an excuse to reference Balki at the water cooler at work. As someone said to me over the weekend, "What, cousin Larry's too good to be on VH1?" Exactly, folks.

And with that, I think that sums up the past three weeks. You were expecting something more exciting that that? You and me both, amigos. Here's the breaking the Curse of The Summer Malaise.

A few random Sunday thoughts:

1.) Per yesterday's posting about rolling the dice and seeing what type of Beth you might get, can I just say what a GREAT idea that was? I mean, seriously people? It would be so much easier if you could just wake up, roll the Emotional Dice and know what you were in for that day. I mean, here are a few options that the product development team could use for me for the starter model:

Sourpuss Beth
Funny But Clumsy Drunk Beth
Overly Enthusiastic Fag Hag Beth
Hipster Green Eyeshadow-Wearing Beth
Smarter Than Everyone Else Beth
Skiddish, Easily Frightened Beth

2.) If I haven't said it yet, I can say now that I cannot stop listening to the new Ryan Adams CD and it might be a close contender against "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" as my new favorite summer album.

3.) During my shut-in weekends, of which there are far too many, I often find myself staring at Mrs. Puff and wondering what Mr. Puff might have been like. I have finally found the answer to this. Warren from Fox's old series "Greg the Bunny." It upsets me that I can't find a good picture of Warren for Mrs. Puff, or for my loyal readers, but if you happen to come across one, and you want to make a shut-in very, very happy, send it my way!

Greetings from the Shut-In in Lock Down mode

Tomorrow is Pride Day on Capital Hill, which means that there are more than 100,000 proud, proud folks in my neighborhood that are not here the other 364 days of the year. In response, I've bolted my doors, secured two days worth of snacks and hunkered down for a shut-in weekend with Mrs. Puff.

I know this action will officially put me in the "grouchy," or "sourpuss" category, even the "asocial" and "party pooper" subsections of those categories, it's just where I happen to be this weekend. You roll the dice, sometimes you get Sourpuss Beth. I've imbibed more than my share of mimosas along the parade route in years past (In those cases, you roll the dice and get Funny But Clumsy Drunk Beth that will talk your ear off about Duran Duran) and loved cheering on the thousands of gay men in hot pants and body glitter ("Overly Enthusiastic Fag Hag Beth").

Look, this isn't about what my parents would affectionately call "the gays." This is about what I call "the tourists." Thousands of them looking for the parade route. Thousands of them looking for parking to get to the parade route. Thousands of them waiting in line for bloody marys at brunch. Bloody marys I should be drinking without having to wait in line for 2 hours.

Pride Day celebrants -- have a great Pride Day and hold your heads up high not just today but every day of the year. Have fun in our city, catch up with your friends and loved ones, and then, well, head on home as soon as you can. We'll see how my attitude might change the next time pride rolls around.

Actually, maybe it's best if we DON'T do the time warp again...

Last Sunday's "This American Life" featured an installment called "Mortified," a sort-of literary event where people get on stage and read from their high-school era journals. This has the potential for hilarity, right? I mean, like, she's all, you know, yeah, and I'm all, like, wow, and she's all....

As you can probably guess, this prompted me to dig up my journal from high school, mostly from my senior year, and see what embarrassing entries might be hiding in there. IMPORTANT ALL-CAP NOTE to others considering doing this activity: IT'S IMPORTANT THAT YOU BE IN A GOOD MOOD TO BEGIN WITH WHEN YOU DO THIS ACTIVITY.

Otherwise, as was the case for me, this activity will just bum you out and make you wonder what the hell was WRONG with you all through high school. Was it really all this bad? Surely we had good times, guys, didn't we? A few? One? At least?

On young love: "And, if I wasn't before, I am now definintely, officially, head-over-heels in love with David. There's just something about him! Sometimes our eyes meet, and I just turn to Jell-O....In all reality he probably thinks I'm a really good friend who he can talk to...I don't know why I'm staying up so late. He won't call. Why do I put myself through this??"

On angst: "Everything is so fucked up in my life and I hate it. I want everything to go back to normal, where I was at least half-way stable and able to go for at least a week without changing my damned emotions."

On "family": " I miss the security of high school already -- the no-responsibility attitude that someone will always be there to fix your mistakes-type of feeling. I'll miss the newspaper room, the late nights bonding with Joey and Hoolie. Even through the hellish times we had, I've come to see newspaper as this second family of mine. We all loved each other even though we sometimes hated each other, and I truely (sic) don't think I'll ever forget it or the people I met there."

On changes ahead: "Everything is changing now with school and my friends and my family. My once inseperable clique of friends now can't stand being in the same room together. People are going their seperate ways, I suppose. School is slowly winding down. It's scary that next year I will be in a totally different place with complete strangers in a new environment. My so-thought secure world will be over."

On graduation: "'It's over,' as Morrissey says, 'but it never really began.' Up until about a half hour ago, I didn't get teary eyed. Then R left and I felt all empty inside. My mom said she told her parents that I was more like a sister she never had and that only made me cry more. I feel like I should say something, like, write down some deep, insightful thought on this important day, and all I can think about is how R's gone."

Squirrelish Goodness

It's been a pretty ordinary week for Beth, so there's not much to post about. Life just keeps plugging along, which is fiiiine by me. A few items to note, however:

I was surfing around looking for fun blogs and found Someday Is Now, a weight-loss blog. It seems pretty entertaining so far, but I think the main sticking point for me was the fact that this woman has calculated her weight loss to date (and still to go) in terms of SQUIRRELS. Hot damn, that's enough to get me coming back to it every single day.

How much Alone In Your Apartment Time does it take before one can officially be considered agoraphobic? Methinks I am on the edge.

Better head out and burn off a few squirrels.

Perhaps My Domesticity Has Gone Too Far

Yes, I really, honestly, DID make crackers FROM SCRATCH last weekend.

Crackers, you might ask, like Saltines?

Yes.

Why, you might ask? Who makes homemade crackers?

It's like this, I would say, the only reason I made homemade crackers is because my Mark Bittman "How To Cook Everything" book (which is the best cookbook ever written) said they were (and I quote) "RIDICULOUSLY easy" to make. I took that as a personal challenge. I mean, few things in this world are RIDICULOUS easy to make, short of Jell-O and Top Ramen. I had to call him on that claim. Turns out they ARE NOT all that easy to make, in fact it involves making dough and then using a rolling pin (a rolling pin, for God's Sake, immediately rules out all ridiculous easiness) and then throwing them into the oven for ten minutes.

Not hard, but not in the category of the ridiculous.Not all that flavorful either, but that could be remedied with some kosher salt and rosemary next time.

Siiiiiiiiigh. I need hobbies, fast. I need my soul mate, fast. I am blogging about how to make crackers from scratch, people. MAYDAY. MAYDAY. THIS SHIP IS GOING DOWN.

Great idea for Summer 2005

Once again, Andrea Scher's Superhero Journal has provided me with inspiration and kind words. There's something about her writing style and enthusiasm for life that is just infectious, even on my most cynical days, of which there are many.

If you go to her site, the June 7 entry talks about writing yourself a letter entitled "What I Did During the Summer of 2005 That Made Me A Better, Smarter, Happier Person." If you mail her your letter with a SASE, she'll mail it back to you at the end of the summer so you can see how you did.

First off, WHAT A GREAT IDEA. Aren't you already starting a mental list of stuff to do this summer that could be put into that letter? Doesn't it get your wheels spinning around the possibilities and opportunities over the next few months? Especially for Seattleites I think this is a great idea since our summers are so incredibly incredible and unlike anything we'll see for the other 9 months of the year.

I have visions of me leaning against a log at Alki on a sunny hot day watching the waves, listening to Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, my quintessential summer album....it's all good, folks.

A lucky day INDEED

My new issue of Lucky arrived today, which always makes me happy because it unabashedly talks about shopping and girlieness and which cuticle balm is superior without the trashiness of Cosmo or the healthiness of Self.

Which brings me to the fact that they were discussing a superior cuticle cream put out by the UK chemist Boots. Really, Boots is just an ordinary Walgreens-y type drug store, but for Americans abroad it takes on this super-exotic quality becuase it sells -- hee hee -- funny flavored toothpastes and brands of lipgloss we can't get in "the States" and when toothpaste and cough drops become EXOTIC you know you have a good thing going for you.

And. Ahem. I found out that Boots has a Website that you can peruse and buy stuff from. I. Just. Don't. Know. What. To.Do. With. This. Information.

I'm not too proud to help myself

Every now and then (usually after drinking), I get on a self-help book kick. I'm not proud of this trend, but I guess it could be worse. I could, for example, listen to early recordings of Celine Dion over and over while curled up on the floor after I get a little tipsy. Instead I end up at the downtown Barnes and Noble dragging friends over to the "self improvement" section and force them to listen to the wacky titles that Drunk Beth mocks (usually too loudly), but Sober Beth secretly wants to read but is to ashamed to follow through on.

I mean, really, after knocking back a few too many vodka tonics, what single gal doesn't want to find out "All You Need to Know to Make Men Fall Madly in Love with You and Marry "The One" in 3 Years or Less" or "How to Meet Anyone, Anytime, Anyplace"? Lest you think I am joking, these are actual titles I have seen, and proud to say I have never picked up. Seriously. Even at my drunkest.

ANYHOO. This entry is rambling a bit. Point being -- while we're on the topic of self-help books, I'm actually looking to find some good suggestions focusing on success/leadership/management/business. If it specializes in PR and/or marketing specifically, all the better. I never read these types of books, and figured now might be a good time to learn more about how to excel and motivate and succed and....yeah. You get the idea. Books with candles on the cover or quotes from John Gray on the back will be immediately declined. But if you've found a good "Ten strategies to be a better, studlier you" type of book that you found helpful, drop me a note and let me know about it.

Otherwise, dammit, I'll have to get drunk and look for it myself and I think we all know that's not a very good idea.

One goal decided

Beth has finally walked for the cure, alongside 14,000 people -- what a sight! To see the waves of people making their way up the Alaskan Way Viaduct was very powerful and inspirational -- it made me proud to be a part of it. Thanks to all that helped out with a little cha-ching for this great cause.

Still haven't come up with my ideal career path as per Friday's goal, but let me just say for the world to hear that after yet another night of nonstop tossing and turning and lower back discomfort that I have decided that my next major purchase is going to be a new bed. A really good bed, with good sheets and a fluffy-ass down comforter. I'm fed up with my crappy, sub-par bed and I have had it.

Sub-goal related to this larger goal -- research wonders of memory foam, pillow top versus firm, pricing for high-thread-count sheets. Advice? Shopping tips? Horror stories? Shout em out over the next few months while I think about my forthcoming purchase.