Monthly Archives: August 2003

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Interview Chain…Keep it going

It’s the Interview Game and I’ve taken Tracey up on her offer to interview me. Here are my answers to her questions! If you want me to interview any of you, just let me know!

1. Are you still running and/or going to X-Gym? Why?
No to both. I decided to put off X-Gym because I am going on a two month road trip, followed by a family thanksgiving in Hawaii and then possibly a cruise ship job. So I never would have had the chance to really make the X-Gym start to work for me because right after my last trip I’m pretty much gone. But I am planning on forking out the money for it when I come back next year and get settled.
As for the running. Well, I’m a big lazy fatty who can’t stand to run. That’s about it. 🙂

2. Who loves you and how do you know?
I was going to say my cat Parker because every time I go to my parents’ house she still sleeps under the covers with me just like the old days. But Joey says that she doesn’t love me because I abandoned her and he thinks I force her under the covers. I swear I don’t. I just lift the sheet and she jumps right in. (But I don’t really let her out 🙂 Otherwise, Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.

3. Stick-shift or Automatic?
Stick-shift baby, all the way. Of course, my new car is an automatic and I find myself falling asleep because it’s like an auto-pilot. I think stick-shift makes you part of the driving experience. You are actually operating the car instead of riding in it.

4. Do you collect any knick-knacks or other “collectibles”? How long has this been going on?
On this job, I only collected coffee mugs and travel mugs because I figure no one ever has a matching set of coffee mugs. In America, you HAVE to have tacky mugs to serve coffee and tea with. It’s just the way. The only other thing I collect according to Johnny are the shattered souls of the hearts I’ve broken and he claims it probably started back in Montessori.

5. During your trip to Europe, was there anyplace where you thought “I could live here…” or did you catch yourself thinking “America really is better; I’m so glad I live there”?
Yes, I loved London! Felt like Seattle with history. But I hated Paris because of the way I was treated. I think America is far more helpful to those who don’t speak the language, or maybe that’s just me. I can’t tell you how many languages came into my video store. It all comes down to hand gestures and facial expressions. Although at the video store, I tried to keep the pantomiming to a minimum.

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Lazy Laptop vs. Speedy Sea-Doo

When Kris met up with us this weekend at Lake Okoboji, he was shocked I hadn’t even taken my laptop out of my bag since I had left for this trip. Which of course explains the lack of bloggin on my part. But he soon realized the connection was brutally slow and that there was a much better time to be had sitting on the dock, gazing out at the water with a [insert favorite beverage here]. We BBQ’d up a storm and enjoyed the relaxing weekend.

My biggest accomplishment and the highlight for my trip was when two co-workers and I rented a Sea-Doo and rode all over the lake together. A Sea-Doo is like a three person Jet-Ski. It was amazing. The culprit who lured us out there let us ease into it, but then when she had the control she was wild! It was frightening, but exhilirating and eventually the two of us behind her were knocked right off the back. I loved every minute of it (despite the giggling and screaming I did in their ears). The best part was each time we switched drivers we would dip in the lake for a bit. The water was so warm I wondered why I love Seattle with its frigid cold lakes that never beckon me to jump in.

I do love the Pacific Northwest and I think it’s beautiful and I hate extreme seasons, which makes it perfect for me. But after this weekend, I completely understand this whole summer vacation mentality people have. When we first walked up to our rooms on the lakefront, it was evening and boats were still out on the water. A smell of water and gasoline wafted towards us and I looked at my co-workers and said, “Now THAT smells like summer vacation.”

Did I mention how much I am going to miss this job?

Sidenote: The beautiful mansion-like-houses on the lakefront go for 3 million dollars. Not as cheap as we all thought here in the middle of nowhere.

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The Dirt of Accomplishment

Yesterday I woke up feeling cranky. I’m not sure why, but for whatever reason it cascaded down into every aspect of my day. First I tried on 16 different shirts wondering how it is possible to have that much back fat. Where the hell does it come from? I mean, when girls are younger we worry about gaining weight, but nobody warns us it might show up on our back. Ick. Needless to say this made me even grumpier. To add to that, all my clothes seemed dirty, wrinkled, or missing due to the fact I’m living out of a suitcase (or exploded suitcase) at my sister’s place. I finally decided on a sweatshirt and proceeded to put socks on only to discover a hole in the toe of one sock. “Jesus Christ, throw me a bone!” I yelled. Well, God didn’t like that apparently.

As I’m driving to work, with Christina Aguilera blasting in my speakers, I realize there is some foreign noise happening with my brand new car. I turn off the stereo and decide, I must have a f*#@&ing flat tire. Strangely though it wasn’t pulling me one way or another, just making an inordinate amount of noise. I pull over and park, note the flat tire and think, “How can this be my day? Was my life going so well that it’s just time for me to have a domino of shit happen?” And of course, being that I have the worst car Karma, the tire didn’t get flat until the end of my two weeks home, leaving me only a day to deal with this.

I proceed to walk to work, but feel I have a bit of comfort in the fact I had thought to bring my IPOD and earphones with me. I start walking, put my headphones on, and hit play on my IPOD. Nothing. The menu doesn’t light up. Nothing. So even though I had fully charged my IPOD, what I’m assuming happened is that when I put it on Hold, I must have had it running or something and now it’s dead. Well, Goddammit.

When I get to work I start debating over how I’m going to deal with this tire. You see, for one, it’s a new car and I have yet to even look for the spare and jack. And two, my trunk is filled with junk from my move, including a big dirty dolly that Scott had borrowed to move his stuff. I have AAA and I know where Les Schwab is, but I just couldn’t wrap my mind around how I was going to go about this. I was starving and I didn’t have my AAA card on me (because it would be too practical to actually keep that in my car or on my person). To add more misery to my day, I discover the sweatshirt I have chosen to wear smells terribly. Leaving me no choice but to strip down to my tank top (which everyone knows I hate to do in public).

Here is where things start to shift in my head. Rebecca from work tells me she’ll drive me up to my car if I like and help me with whatever I need to do. I decide what I need is food and then to empty my trunk. I could 1) have AAA change the flat, or 2) change the flat myself, or 3) instead of emptying out the trunk I could just have AAA tow it to Les Schwab. I can’t believe I even debated over all this. Once I got food everything changed.

Rebecca took me to my car, we were down to our butch tank tops and ready to go, so we started moving all the shit out of my trunk into my back seat. I put the dolly on the sidewalk, stuffed my face with few more bitefuls of Cashew Chicken and then we went to work changing the tire ourselves. Rebecca was mostly there for moral support, but it helped a lot. The sun was hot, the asphalt was hot, and the tire was cooperative. It was easy as pie. As I was driving to Les Schwab I thought to myself how funny the day had been.

Basically, here is where my point comes in. Prepare yourself for uncharacteristically reflective crap. Some of you know I’m planning a big road trip for when this job is done. Well, once I had eaten, changed the tire, and was well on my way to a better day (since Les Schwab doesn’t charge for fixing flats) I realized something sort of funny. Perhaps God thought, “How dare you think that the fact you have back fat and holes in your socks means you have it bad. How dare you actually bitch about your day when you are heading into work close to 10am and you probably aren’t going to stay very long. How dare you ask Jesus Christ to throw you a bone.” Okay, so maybe he isn’t that vengeful, so then I thought, “My god, if this hadn’t happened I never would have even considered what would happen if I got a flat in the middle of nowhere on my road trip.” Now I am thinking, maybe I shouldn’t bring much with me, I should keep my trunk easily accessible, and maybe I should consider getting a real spare tire instead of the flimsy ones that you can’t go very far or very fast on.

In the end, the stars had aligned to warn me that I have a lot more to think about than just whether or not I can carry mace on this trip. Not to mention how much I love being self-sufficient and capable. Changing that tire was another rush for me. I’ve done it before, but it’s always nice to know you don’t have to rely on anyone for anything.

One last note, and I think this is sort of funny since I was planning on blogging about this anyway before I even read Gretchen’s blog. When I was sitting reading my book in Les Schwab, I looked at my hands and noticed they were covered in dirt and blood (apparently I had cut myself during the tire swapping incident, presumably on gravel). I kept staring at my hands while I was flipping pages in my book, signing for my car, being handed back my keys. Despite the fact there was a bathroom in the waiting room, I didn’t wash my hands. There was something comforting about the dirt. Maybe it was the fact it represented accomplishment to me. Maybe it was a reminder of how the day had taken a turn from a miserable morning to an enlightened afternoon. Or simply maybe it was pride in having all these men caked in oil see that I had changed my own tire today before bringing in the flat. I know changing the tire was easy, but there was still a part of me that felt better about myself when I looked around at the other women sitting in the waiting room who had obviously had their cars towed in or had someone else change their tire. I was the only one who showed up with the flat in her trunk.

So I enjoyed the dirt of accomplishment for a good two hours before finally washing away the day’s events.

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Money is everything

Alright. No worries. I met with my “boss” and she managed to see the numbers in a better light so I set everything up with the caterer and we are ready to go.

Thanks for the suggestions though. As for more suggestions? We are buying the beer and wine ourselves so I would love an idea of what you think 40 people would drink.

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Cater Waiters Take the Floor!

Alright. I have never had to hire caterers before and I suddenly have a new respect and appreciation for people who work in a capacity where they have to plan all sorts of events.

Things you have to think about:

1) What does everyone want to eat? Hors D’oeuvres? A real meal? Desserts?
2) And if there are beverages, what kind? Coffee, Tea, Soda, Juice?
3) We of course would want alcohol but do we go with a Cash Bar which requires a $400 minmum? Do we buy our own alcohol and just pay for a bartender? Do we just forget about the food and get a full bar?
4) What is my budget really? $1000? $1500 or is it really only $800?
6) Miss, would you like our rental pricing? Huh? For Linens and such? Oh.
7) And what about flatware, glassware, &$@*ware? Disposable?
8) How long will the event run? How much will we have to pay the servers even though I asked for buffet style?
5) And lastly, what is the cursing etiquette when you hear snickering on the other line from the owner who can’t believe you just suggested they cater your event in two weeks for a measly $800?

I have somehow volunteered myself to plan an event for work and our budget is tight (if unknown) and I had no idea going into this that caterers had all sorts of fees. I’ve been hoping to meet with my manager’s manager all day, but since she is a few steps up, she is inundated with meetings. So here I sit, dizzy with sticker shock now that all the proposals and bids have come in from all the companies I called, and I’m waiting to find out the inevitable. We just can’t afford it.

Which means I get to break the news to everyone that we may just have a potluck. But hey! At least that means more booze. And isn’t that what this is all about…really?

Is that my phone? Yes. Here I go. Manager awaits.

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Guilty Conscience

Growing up Catholic taught me many things. The first and foremost is how to feel guilty…for everything. Even for not blogging. I was thinking about this today and I started to wonder. My parents are notorious for not pushing religion on us or making it a big part of our lives. We went to church up until I got a job in high school and then that was it. But then there are times when they will suddenly throw a Catholic term out there that I’ve never heard before. I often forget they spent their entire lives in Catholic school and they often forget that I did not.

A few years ago when I came back from an exhausting trip moving Tonja to California and then back up again in a matter of four days, my parents told me, “Well, just think of all the hours of indulgences you earned.” This was met with my vacant stare. “Hours of what?” To their dismay, I knew nothing of this so-called reward for good deeds. From what I’ve gathered, we are all going to spend quite a bit of time in purgatory awaiting our entrance into heaven. By being a good person and doing right by god, you earn hours of indulgences, which translate into less time spent in purgatory. Now if I am wrong about this definition you can blame either my parents or my lack of listening to my parents. (Sidenote: I looked it up and if you read further down on this link it describes a similar idea.)

So, this brings us back to my blog. I feel guilty that I have had so much to say yet I have neglected my blog for almost two weeks. It’s sickening. The saddest part of all this is the fact I have now convinced myself that there is a place in purgatory especially for pathetic bloggers. In fact, instead of earning hours of indulgences, I believe for every day I don’t blog I will exponentially gain another day in purgatory. This is my plight.

Now for those who really know me, this all means nothing. The guilt I have is real, it’s achingly tangible, but I do not truly believe there is anything beyond this world that will punish me for the guilt I feel now. I believe the guilt is punishment enough. If you understood the effect guilt has had on me in my life, you would agree. Jeff and Scott always told me that I needed to stop feeling so guilty about things (i.e. not making it to someone’s party, not remembering things about people, not helping enough with something, not being able to pick someone up at the airport). Of course, both of them only said this when it involved the guilt I felt over other people, not them. Isn’t that always the way.

This was going to be an entry about my new amazing 30GB IPOD, but I will save that for tomorrow. Tonight I am working on instructions for The Toft Family website so my family members can upload pictures. Just ask Kris. I went about it the entirely wrong way. Don’t ever create instructions with pictures in a Word document if you intend on making it something like a webpage. Thank god for Scott B.’s class on making Word documents into PDF’s.

Now I must fill my gut because my guilt has eaten away at me and I am starving.

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Rain, Rain, Go Away…Come again some other day

…Like when I’m gone. At first I told people I didn’t mind the drizzle and that I actually enjoy days where you have an excuse to curl up with a book and hot tea. Fast forward to three days later: the drizzle quickly turned to downpours and I didn’t want to curl up as much as I wanted to wander around cool little towns or help Jennie paint her house. (Yes, I really wanted to do this. Painting is like meditating.)

I’m in Worcerster, Massachusetts and I spent the first part of my weekend visiting my high school friend, Jennie. She lives in Swampscott, which is an old Native American word meaning red rock. She has a beautiful view of this little cove.


You can tell the town wants to separate itself from the neighboring town, Lynn, which in Swampscott terms is probably the projects. 🙂 Well, maybe not looked upon quite as bad, but as Jennie pointed out, even the beach seems to have a distinct dividing line. As soon as you cross over into Lynn’s side of the beach the seaweed stench is terrible, as if it knows it’s unappreciated. Or maybe it’s a chicken or the egg situation. Who knows.

I wandered up to Portsmouth to visit Aaron on Saturday night. Man, I love that town. Last night in the thick of the fog, Aaron took pictures of the streetlamps and the old buildings. The fog made the town feel like an old Jack the Ripper movie scene. This probably sounds dreary, but I loved it.

Check back tonight, I’m going to post a couple pics from this week. Jennie did end up painting a bit, but she wouldn’t let me help. Alas, I just talked her ear off instead.