Archive for June, 2011

Sadly, I am not talking about “Maintain a perfect blow out every single day”

I was at Target this weekend, running in for Just One Thing, No Really, Stop Looking At Me Like That I Just Needed ONE THING AND THAT IS ALL I AM GETTING, GOD, so of course I ended up buying a new hat and sunglasses:

Yes. I bought $5.99 Target sunglasses because they almost kind of maybe sort of look like the Tami Taylor aviators. Sadly for everyone reading this post who has NO idea who Tami Taylor is, Google Images has not a single good pic of Tami in her aviators, so my advice to you right now is to go buy Season 1 of Friday Night Lights and call me in the morning.

For the rest of you: Look, I understand that Tami Taylor would NEVER wear that hat, but not everyone has the Lustrous Locks, so: hat. But also: Tami Taylor (knock off) sunglasses! I then promptly instructed the husband to call me Tami whenever I had them on, to which he replied something along the lines of “Sure, because I cannot think of a logical reason why I wouldn’t considering logic has left the realm of this conversation a long long time ago.”

ANYWAY, I mostly thought he was humoring me and we didn’t really talk about it again until I came home from work today (oh, HI, when I say “from work today” I mean my first day at the only new company I’ve worked at since I was *23*, so, you know, Hello Life Change) and there were two birthday presents waiting for me.

Now, my birthday is not until next Monday (if you’re doing the math: that’s the 4th of July, and yes it is indeed a SUPER AWESOME day to have a birthday), however it appeared SOMEONE (me) was too excited about presents to keep them a secret that long. I was instructed to pick one of the two boxes as a “pre-birthday present present that is still totally a birthday present”

You guys. He totally bought me Tami Taylor Cowboy Boots to go with my Tami Taylor Sunglasses.

Now, look: I get that cowboy boots are not, for us mortals, everyday wear (I mean, I wouldn’t wear them to a funeral, for instance. Who do you think I am? Lyla Garrity? Sheesh.) But damn if I don’t love them. And they will be worn, oh yes, they will be worn. I know I’m not actually Tami Taylor, but that never stopped a girl from trying, amirite?

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I am, I swear to God, FINALLY going to finish Pride and Prejudice. I’ve been reading this book for no kidding 15 years; I think I have started and stopped hmm, maybe about 23 times, never really getting past the second chapter before getting bored and moving on to something else, frankly not seeing the fuss and not caring enough to push through.

You think I could just move on – hey, there are TONS of classics I’ve never read, and my life seems fulfilled despite this, so I’m sure it’s not totally dire that I’m missing out on some Lizzy Bennet – but try avoiding this book. It’s everywhere. It pops up in conversation at least once a year, and my mom would inevitably tell me it’s her favorite book, and I’d remind her that I’ve never read it, and she would go out and buy me a copy, so not only have I not read The Best Book Ever, but I have like, 5 different trade paperbacks of it sitting around, both at my house and at my parent’s house (just in case I get bored over the holidays – no worries! I’ve got a book to read!)

So of course when I got an iPad and downloaded the Kindle app and hey guess what book was preloaded? There you are, P&P, my old nemesis. So I gave it another go, and sure enough I’m about 33% in and this effort looks promiseing: I may finally finish this g-d book.

This is only really exciting to me because I love Colin Firth and I really want to see the film adaptation he did of this book, and for whatever reason I simply canNOT get over that old rule my mom had when I was growing up which was: No Seeing a Movie Based On A Book Until You’ve Read The Book.

(I have no idea what this was her particular hill to die on, but this was a hard and fast rule, which is why I ended up reading Gone With the Wind when I was 11. [I had NO age appropriate historical context for that book and for a long time felt really bad for the South that they lost the war. Or, at least, I felt bad about it until I took 5th grade history and was like “Oooooooh”]

This is one of those family rules that I grew up with and can’t seem to shake, regardless of the fact that I am almost 30 (one week y’all!) and am presumably an adult and have my own home and family and can make my own rules (no texting at the table, Sammy!) but no, I STILL feel horribly guilty that I saw both Absolute Power and The Lincoln Lawyer without knowing they were based on books, and while I know Clueless isn’t an exact remake of Emma, it still feels wrong to me that I saw it before reading that book, and I can’t really shake that feeling that I skated through on a technicality even though I knew better.

(Aside [Christ, as if this entire entry isn’t one big aside]: Absolute Power is one of the best Father/Daughter movies out there. Trust  me on this.)

ANYWAY. Pride and Prejudice. Finally. I am assuming at some point in this reading it will become apparent why everyone loves this book, right? Or is this like that time my friend watched Airplane! for the first time at age 30 and she was all “Seriously? You guys think this is funny?”, which is to say: is this one of those things that is only awesome if you get to it at the exact right time in life, and if you miss it, you’ve just…missed it? Regardless, sometime in the near future I will be guiltlessly Colin Firthing it up, and I hope it was worth the wait.

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Let’s Be Marines

So generally I don’t like to take a quote from one individual and attribute it to an entire organization, but this falls right in line with my personal political agenda as well as coincides with how I view the Marine Corps, so what the hell:

From Kottke today:

The WSJ recently covered remarks made by Sgt. Maj. Micheal Barrett, the top non-commissioned officer in the Marine Corps and general all-around hardass, about gays in the military:

Article 1, Section 8 of the Constitution is pretty simple, It says, ‘Raise an army.’ It says absolutely nothing about race, color, creed, sexual orientation. You all joined for a reason: to serve. To protect our nation, right? How dare we, then, exclude a group of people who want to do the same thing you do right now, something that is honorable and noble? … Get over it. We’re magnificent, we’re going to continue to be. … Let’s just move on, treat everybody with firmness, fairness, dignity, compassion and respect. Let’s be Marines.

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Today’s plan:

1. Sunrise hike with puppy (done)

2. Mid-morning Crossfit (done)

3. Return all corporate technology and sign all resignation papers

4. Facial

5. Drinks with friends

Pretty solid Friday, you guys. Pretty solid indeed.

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I was (ok, still am) lying in bed catching up on my Google Reader, wondering if I had time to get in a quick workout before I have to head to the airport, and I stumbled across this post. This is one of the best descriptions of what you have to do if you want to run a half marathon (spoiler: You have to just simply get up and effing run. [magic!])


So, I quit my job. Not that you’d know it, given that I’m still working, but: I quit my job. I’ve been struggling – languishing, perhaps – for awhile at my current position, and while I have a lot of respect for the company I work for, and know they would have worked with me to find a better fit, an opportunity came up and everything aligned and off I am going.

So naturally I’m on like, breakdown number 14 about it. But whatever. Good things await. It’s the right choice at this time. I am excited. I just need to work through my “Wait, what? I hate change!” and jump headfirst into to this thing.

Assuming, of course, that I actually get to MAKE the change. Seriously, I am scheduled for work type stuff right up until the rip the laptop out of my still typing hands. What happened to being ushered out of the office the minute your resigned? Damn being an efficient resource!


Unrelated to all of the above:  a (twitter) friend and I were discussing on GoodReads (um, so I guess she is a GoodReads friend, too) how much we love the Sookie Stackhouse books, despite all their obvious criticisms of being  fluff and  books that are not, you know, like, HIGH literature. (Which: Ok. It’s about vampires and the main lead is a telepath. There are werewolves. And lots of sex. I get it.)  The saving grace (besides hot Eric) is how Sookie is written – the voice of the main character is so well done that I just like her, and after 11 books, I feel like I know her, I feel like we’re friends. And isn’t that the best part of good books, that feeling of being immersed in a world full of characters that resonate with you? (And I ask you: how can  a telepathic barmaid from northern Louisiana NOT resonate with you, amirite? Well, I AM right if that telepathic barmaid is written by Charliane Harris.)

Anyway, that led me to thinking of one of my favorite books, Shining Through, which is one of my favorite books for the exact same reason: the main character is awesome and I love her. And I wanted to recommend this book to my Twitter friend, but, Lord, do you know how terrifying it is to make an initial book recommendation to someone you don’t know very well? If you screw it up right out the gate you lose of book recommending credibility (see also: that time I told my book club to read Twilight) AND you have this element of sharing something you like so much only to be told that, nope, not a common feeling: it’s not them, it’s you, and you swirl into this abyss of “GOD I guess my books aren’t GOOD ENOUGH for you, FINE, I’ll just be over here with my SOOKIE, and what’s wrong with my books why don’t you like me?

I don’t recommend books often, is what I’m saying.

Anyway, I made the rec and turns out she had already read and LOVED my book and we had a nice virtual group hug moment over how awesome Linda Voss is, and now I’m telling you people to go out and read this book, even if you won’t read my Sookie Stackhouse books, because it is awesome: Shining Through by Susan Isaacs. You go now and read.

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Daily Practice

My good friend from high school is a yoga instructor in the most badass sense of the word, which is to say she studies in India and then comes back to the US and very politely bends your body into ways that are slightly incomprehensible and yet totally awesome, and then you can’t walk the next day.

I’m in town and she mentioned she was teaching a 12pm class, and it seemed like a good way to catch up – take her yoga class, grab lunch after. I mean, hell, I’ve been doing yoga on and off for over seven years, I’ve done two Ironmen races, I workout frequently – it’s not like I can’t drop into a yoga class and figure it out, right? It’s yoga.  Not rocket science. Right?

Obviously from the arrogance in that last paragraph you can guess that she killed me dead. Like, there were points during that hour and half class that I noticed my leg muscles just weren’t … functioning. As in, they had stopped reacting to the neurological signals to move, simply because they were too tired. I felt the intense urge to curl up on my yoga mat and suck my thumb, or at least apologize for the river of sweat streaming down my boobs. It’s not that the yoga itself was outside of the vocabulary of the yoga I’ve done before – I can sun salutation with the best of them – but the pacing and the continued routine of the poses and the incrementally levels of badassary that started piling up…man, you guys, man.

What I’m telling you is that there is yoga, and then there is Ashtanga yoga, and you’d be well served to adjust your ego accordingly if you’re wandering into an Ashtanga class with nothing but your lulu’s and an attitude.

After class, we did indeed grab lunch, and we had an interesting discussion about the merits of daily practice. The type of yoga that Ellie practices is Mysore yoga (and if you think I’m having a hard time restraining myself from a “no, YOURsore” joke, you are quite correct), and one of the tenets is that this is a daily practice. To the best of my understanding (which is shaky, at best), Mysore is a self-led practice of Ashtanga yoga, wherein the practitioner follows the Ashtanga sequence of poses at their own pace. The idea is that you do this, the same sequence of poses, a routine that takes about an hour and half, everyday.

As Ellie described the  me the elements involved in that kind of daily practice – the mental fortitude it takes to move yourself through what must become occasionally a boring routine (Same thing. Everyday.) and the discipline it takes to push yourself through the poses you know you don’t like, and not to only focus on the ones you know you can do and do well – it reminded me of Crossfit, a bit. To be sure: the two disciplines in spirit could not be more dissimilar, but the idea of going daily and doing whatever that day dishes at you – are right in line.

I think a lot of the benefit of Crossfit is doing the WOD that you are inclined to hate, and not skipping those days (remind me of this the next time I see an erg workout for the day, mmkay?) It’s the discipline of teaching your body to adapt, over and over, to things outside it’s comfort zone. In Mysore, you don’t pick and chose the poses in the sequence you do – you do them all, and you do them everyday. The poses you hate or are uncomfortable with cannot possibly stay your weakest if you confront them daily, right? (See also: Triathlon, and Why So Many People I Know Swim Even Though They Hate It)

I doubt I’ll ever get fully into a Mysore practice – though I’m humbled and impressed by Ashtanga and can see how you could fall down a rabbit hole there – but the process of daily practice is something I can relate to and think is important.

In other news: my hamstrings  currently don’t work, and it’s all Ellie’s fault.

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