Beth's next travel escape

A month from now, I will be headed to glorious San Francisco for the annual big cable shin-dig trade show and then for a few days of much-needed vacation and THEN to Los Angeles for a Mayer Family Reunion. Cannot. Wait.

To Do List:

1.) Win lottery.
2.) Obtain entirely new work wardrobe of professional business attire that still conveys I am a hip young creative thang.
3.) Obtain entirely new play wardrobe of hip, trendy attire that still conveys I am an intelligent business professional.
4.) Grow hair down to waist, secure appointment for makeover.
5.) Develop answer for strangers that stop me on the street and mistake me for Portia De Rossi ("No no, we just look alike...")

I think it's all perfectly do-able in a month, no?

The SIFP hits a snag

I am not raising a white flag of defeat by any means, but it's been a week and a half since I've worked out and I have seriously got to get my behind in gear and refocus or else the Self Imposed Fitness Plan is going to go to all hell in a handbasket after just two weeks of sloughing off. I feel like I'm at some sort of make-or-break point where I'm THISCLOSE to losing all momentum and just curling up on the couch again.

Okay. Phew. A few lessons learned:
1.) You CANNOT stop the momentum because the minute you do and with every minute that passes by afterwards it gets more and more difficult to catch up.
2.) The low carb diet thing? It works. It's a bit of a pain to adjust to, but it does work. A warning though that if you (okay, me) deviate from it and slip in a bagel or bowl of pasta every now and then your brain (okay, my brain) will go ABSOLUTELY HAYWIRE and make you (me) obsess day and night about what other carb-laden goodness can be shoved into your mouth, including, but not limited to, shortbread, cereal, bread, cupcakes, lasagna and lemon coffee cake.

Oh Bother

In very low spirits tonight. I'm frustrated and angry and sad. I hate feeling like this. My mom is going through a horrible time right now and there is absolutely NOTHING I can do for her other than listen and offer a shoulder to cry on, which seems so totally inadequate that it just breaks my heart. Her brother is dying of cancer. Her sister lost her job. She's at her wit's end and barely able to string sentences together with no support system 0r friends or social outlet to comfort or distract her. And I am here. In Seattle. Thousands of miles away and not able to do ANYTHING at all. I feel so protective of her tonight and want to swoop in somehow and make everything alright, but unless I've got a magical cancer-fighting wand and a re-employment cape, I guess I just have to sit tight.

This sucks ass.

I sense a pilgrimage coming on!

Jack Kerouac's original manuscript of On the Road is, well, hitting the road itself... and damn but that cheesy line just made me feel like a witty little journalism geek. Whoo, I still got it in me, folks! I forget how wonderful and viceral Kerouac's writing is and what a pleasure it is to read him. I always feel my energy level rising when I read chaotic and joy filled passages like this:

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."

How can you not get overwhelmed by that??? Is that not the most beautiful thing you've ever heard? If you are not smiling and jumping up to stand on your keyboard with your fists raised saying YES, ME TOO, JACK, ME TOO! then, well, you're probably more well adjusted than me. Oh, and you're probably dead inside, too.

I need to revisit my old copy of On The Road and maybe my 2001 new year's resolution to read everything he's written. More quotes and Kerouacian goodness here.

Is it so wrong....

...that I really, really, really like the idea of having a doll that asks me if I'm pushing myself too hard? Is it?

The State of Things

You could be Archduke Sullen Mopeington of the Sulkiness province, in the kingdom of Depression and you would STILL not beat me for being the Mopeiest Mope that ever Moped. It has been a three day weekend of mopeing around alone my apartment and now it's the end of the weekend and that just makes it all somehow MORE mope-worthy. Siiiiigh.

If there was a bus window I could lean against while gazing out at the cityscape passing by me listening to Reba McEntire sing softly overhead until a single tear falls down my cheek, you might get the idea. If there was a bay window in my apartment that I could huddle in and watch the rain trickle down in the middle of the night while Coldplay plays in the background, you might get an idea, but instead the weather outside has been sunny and cloudless and GORGEOUS for three straight days and that somehow makes things worse. Just more to mope about.

I need a booster shot of Vitamin Attitude Adjustment.

Library card = Passcard to Sexiness?

Just pointing out that it's Library Lovers Month and the Stranger has published its listing of Seattle's Sexiest, which includes this hunka-hunka Sexy Librarian at the downtown Central Library. Methinks its time to get the old library card rarin' to go if you know what I mean, MEEEEOW!

Never thought the day would come that the library would be SEXY, but I am lovin' that trend to death.

Also never thought the day would come when I'd be able to write the words "library" and "library card" and "librarian" with the word "sexy" so many times.

Sunday rituals

Seems weird to do a post about Sunday nights on a Wednesday night, but Beth is all about stepping outside the box!

The Wall Street Journal had this interesting article about the universal bummer that people feel on Sunday nights while your brain adjusts from the weekend to the work week ahead. God knows I can relate to that -- I start shutting down around five p.m. every Sunday and get this malaise that hits hard when I have to turn my focus away from napping and shopping and Mrs. Puff.

Good to know I'm not alone...

Capitalization Counts!

I've noticed on Comedy Central every now and then they have these FABULOUS and HILARIOUS skits called "Creature Comforts" done by Nick Park, the brains behind Wallace and Gromit. Note that I've capitalized both FABULOUS and HILARIOUS because people, that's just what these little features are.

Take real-life interviews with the British public and then put them over Claymation features -- recipe for FABULOUS HILARITY.

Check them out here.

I am a stud mistress

Ain't THAT a good subject line? Aren't you curious now? How exactly, Beth, are you a stud mistress?

Let me tell you.

We are in Week Seven of my 2005 12 Week Self Imposed Fitness Plan (SIFP) and this is the week I am supposed to do the 3-mile Leslie Sanson videotape. (In the SIFP I'm aiming to up my exercise by doing Leslie Sansone walking videos because she's the only exercise instructor that doesn't bug the bejeezus out of me, plus they come in 1, 2, 3 and 4 mile increments, so it's easy to ramp up...) The 3 mile is a tape that I tried to do a year or so ago. I could do the 2 mile, but the 3 mile? It kicked my ass, I got about 2/3 of the way through it and turned it off, sweating and cranky.

But tonight! Tonight, gentle readers! The stud mistress got herself all the way through the 45-minute 3 mile tape without collapsing. I have done it. I will have to do it again, at least three times this week, but the first time is always the worst and I have DONE IT.

Tonight I sit on the couch and feel smug and happy and proud that the SIFP is working.

Best Breakfast Ever, Version Two

I didn't think it would be possible, but I have found a breakfast food that puts my previous favorite of S'mores to the test.

If you can have a box of EnviroKidz Organic Peanut Butter Panda Puffs in your house for more than three whole minutes without pouring the entire package down your throat, then you are have a hell of a lot more self-restraint than I do.

Rest assured it contains corn puffs made with peanut butter, not puffs made of pandas.

Here's to the ladies in my family

Someone asked me recently if I still felt the same way I did back in college when I was "so into feminism and women's issues." Yes, by the way, that person was my father, and yes, by the way, I still DO feel the same way about feminism and "women's issues," albeit with fewer 20-page term papers coming out of my mouth using words like "gynocracy."

So I started thinking about why I got "into" feminism in the first place and how my view has changed since my 19 year old self wandered around the streets of Boulder wearing cut off jean shorts with purple tights underneath.

This is a complex issue to blog about and one that could take pages and pages, so I'll keep it short and save the longer version for my essay collection being published at some point in the next 20 years. For my entire life, I've been surrounded by strong, resourceful, independent women in my family that taught me, in short, a woman can do anything she sets her mind to without depending on a man to do her thinking (or her banking, or her gardening, or her car repairs...) for her. The women in my family didn't have a lot of choice in this matter -- they all found themselves suddenly on their own, without a man, being forced to make their way in the world. Death, divorce, you know, it happens. But they gritted their teeth, figured out a plan, and made a life for themselves and their kids.

And I've always taken that mentality for granted -- that independent, headstrong gutsy attitude of pulling strength from onself instead of relying on a handsome prince to rescue you in a tough situation.I've always taken it for granted that of course a woman should be allowed to make her own decisions about her body and her family and her politics and her daycare and what type of milk she buys. Why would it be any different? Why couldn't a woman be absolutely anything she set her mind to be, whether that's an astronaut or a soldier or a stay at home mom? Who could possibly argue that women shouldn't have the freedoms and the rights to acheive everything a man could? Have you MET the women in my family? They would collectively kick your ass if you tried to tell them they couldn't do something.

Hmmm. All that said, I still wouldn't turn a guy down if he wanted to be all He Man-Like and carry my groceries for me. Does that make me a big girlie girl now? I think not -- I'm 31 and I don't wear the comfortable shoes I did in college, so I'm all for a little help when its offered.

Props to the ladies in my family. I don't say it enough (or at all) but I'm proud of the legacy that you've created.

Thankya, Thankyaverymuch

Hee Hee. Got not just ONE but TWO b-day gifts yesterday. You guys are super duper, thanks very very very much. I am looking forward to being a giant know-it-all in my bare feet as I walk across my floors this coming weekend.

And that's 'nuff said.

Ba-cock

Tomorrow rings in the Chinese New Year and 2005 will be the Year of the Rooster.

I feel now more than ever that I made a wise choice with my "Extraordinary Chickens" wall calendar.

Suh-weeet and Not so Suh-weeet

Hey kids! It's time for Beth's super concise movie reviews!

Bottle Rocket -- LOVED IT. How could I not have seen this little gem until now? The Luke Wilson crush is back stronger than ever.

Napoleon Dynamite -- HATED IT. I am all for quirky. I am the QUEEN of quirky. Too much quirky.

Aack Indeed

Well, it seems Cathy The Comic Strip Lady got married yesterday to her longtime beau Irving.

You would think this would provide a cynical single biotch like myself a chance to go all shades of purple with the list of things to mock and go off about, but somehow it seems...inappropriate to make fun to Cathy on her special day. Maybe I'm mellowing in my older age, but I'll forego the snarky comments and just say You Go, Cathy The Comic Strip Lady, With Your Ill-Fitting Swimsuits and Mom Issues! You Go With Your Married Self And Rock On!

And in the meantime, I'll be curled up in a ball on my floor clutching a tattered Kleenex and weeping over my inability to find something to make fun of here. Am I losing my touch?

Best breakfast EVER

Back at home, sniffling and coughing now, which is new addition to the Birthday/Vacation Headcold of 2005. Can't complain -- I have two days to chill and drink soup until returning to work, which could not be more welcome.

Need to report that the BEST BREAKFAST EVER IN THE ENTIRE HISTORY OF BREAKFASTS consists of the following items: graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate from Tiny Trapeze. Nuke them for 20 seconds to produce S'mores and you have guaranteed smiley, sticky fun in the morning. Chase with some hot coffee and you're ridin' high for the rest of the day. 20 seconds to S'mores! You can't even make tea, or oatmeal, or bacon or anything in that amount of time. You try to tell me that a cereal bar or a banana is a better way to start your day? I laugh in your face while I eat my S'mores...

Even in my Day-Quil induced haze, I find a way to entertain myself...

The annual birthday cold

Perfect. Abso-freaking-lutely perfect. I am sick. My throat feels like there's a hedgehog trapped inside of it. I'm all flushed and sweaty-looking. Clearly I am (1) on vacation and (2) it's my birthday because it seems without fail that I get sick every year on or around my birthday. It's just a head cold. I'll survive, but I'm whiny. Still, it sucks and it's snowing here and did I mention that my throat really, really hurts? UGGGGGH.

The highlight of yesterday was a lovely, leisurely afternoon tea service at Teaism. The Mutan White tea was an absolutely lifesaver for my whiny little body and really, who can complain when there are smoked salmon and wasabi cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off? It's all good when you're enjoying yummy food and hot tea and old friends back from your poodle-perm days.

My newest girl-crush

Can I just admit for the world to see that I have a giant gooey girl crush** on Julia Child? I FREAKIN LOVE JULIA CHILD. I mean, how could you not? She was six foot-two. She was a spy. (A SPY!) She was passionate about roast chickens and good gin. She embraced butter.

Today I saw her kitchen at the National Museum of American History and as you walk into the exhibit, there's this big TV with her old cooking shows on it and I swear as soon as I heard her voice -- that JULIA CHILD VOICE -- I started to giggle and grin like a five year old. I was just in awe of her. You know those celebrites that you get these tremendously positive vibes from, the ones that you just KNOW that if you, too, were a celebrity you would totally, like, be BFFs with that person? I used to feel that way about David Duchovney and Lyle Lovett. I feel it now with my BFF Julia. We could hang out and be...you know....really tall together while I watched her cook dinner for us.

I sense a biography being purchased pretty darned soon.

** Yes, girls get giant gooey girl crushes on girls so don't even cluck your tongue at me like that. Any girl who's ever seen Portia DeRossi and not gotten a little weak in the knees is just a little unnatural in my opinion.

Birthday Groundhog

I'm feeling extremely cyber geeky tonight because I actually said to someone "Can I get online for a minute? I have to update my blog" so I have about five minutes before we head out the door for dinner to update my reading public, who is NO DOUBT salivating, no wait, foaming at the mouth waiting for updates about my DC vacation. Do you even begin to understand the love and devotion I have for you people?

So. Here I am. A special shout out to all of you who were very sweet and sent me silly emails and phone messages for the big 3-1 today. The world celebrates 31 years of Bethdom and it's very nice to be on the receving end.

Loving the vacation so far -- slept in until an insane hour which was much needed. How great are hotel curtains? They're pretty freakin' great in that "able to block out the sun and surround the entire room in womb-like darkness 24-7" kind of way. . We're headed out for Thai tonight and then to this seemingly adorable place called CakeLove, which looks like a pretty sinful way to enjoy some b-day cake. Just hand over the buttercream frosting and I'll be all shades of happy.

More later...gotta run.....