A Quick Turkey Day Update

Things I am thankful for:

The usual – my mister. My mom. My whole family, actually. My friends – all 5 of them, or something sad like that. My pretty awesome life.

The unusual – my comfy yoga pants and fuzzy Christmas sock combination. My new found ability to make gingerbread cookies (even though it looks like the icing monster threw up all over them). Not having to cook dinner tonight. Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner tonight. The fact that I don’t have to cook turkey tomorrow. The fact that I get to eat turkey tomorrow. A long weekend with my mister. Seeing my cousin this weekend. My kitties. Having no school work due this week. The fact that my diet is OVER today. The fact that I lost 7.8 pounds and 5 inches in 30 days. The fact that I don’t have to calorie-count anymore (what a pain in the…). The fact that we leave for Maine in a month from tomorrow! Knowing that all my closest family is together for the holiday (except me – sad face). Having California friends to spend Thanksgiving with. Having a roof over my head. Having food, including cookies and chocolate cream pie, in my fridge. The fact that listening to Christmas music will be socially acceptable once turkey day is over.

…and so on.

P.S. It’s pitiful that half of what I’m thankful for revolves around food. I promise I'm not that shallow.

The first day after a 30 day diet? You betcha.

The Post Office Extravaganza

You’ll probably laugh at this, but let me tell you, I cried. I literally cried.

My Tuesday started out pretty solid – a sunny day and a 2 mile walk, then planning Thanksgiving dinner with a few friends. Later in the afternoon, I had a bunch of errands to run (which really only included going to the post office and then the craft store to spend too much money on crafts I really can’t handle). I headed out, and “Wow it’s a little chilly. I should have grabbed my jacket.” (Foreshadowing?)

I went to the post office in the town north of me, not in my town, because I was going to the craft store on the way home. I’m always a little afraid to go to this post office because a few months ago, someone got shot in the parking lot right across the street. Ghetto. So I go to the post office, and I have to send out two big packages. Of course I can’t balance my purse, my phone, my keys, my wallet, and the two packages, so I wrap my wallet handle around my wrist and head inside. After a ten minute wait, I pay and head to the car. Before I get outside, I reach for my keys. I always (ALWAYS) hang my keys from my right belt loop when I don’t have my purse. No keys. You know that instant feeling where something’s wrong?  Yeah, me too.

I (practically) run to the car and there are my keys. And my phone. And my purse. Sitting on the front seat. !@#$%^&* (That’s me saving your virgin little ears from the all the curse words that came out of my sailor’s mouth). So a slight panic sets in, but I remember, “I have roadside assistance!” Except… the phone number, and my account number, and my PHONE, are all in the car. No worries – there’s a payphone, and I do have my wallet. Except no change. Not even a damn quarter.

So as my eyes start welling up with tears (I’m a big baby), I start panicking. What the hell am I going to do? I go inside and it takes everything in my power to hold back my tears as I ask the post office lady to use the phone. She hands me her own cell phone, and it’s one of those old-school flip phones. I almost can’t remember how to use one. I call the mister. Seven times. No answer. I finally leave him a message and I’m half crying, half sniffling on my voicemail. I walk outside like a lost puppy, and in my most uncomfortable shoes and no jacket, I walk. I ended up walking to Goodwill… don’t ask why. I ask to use their phone, and FINALLY, my mister answers his cell phone. 

I lucked out, BIG TIME, because it just happened to be the day he was out of work way early (which never happens). He assures me that he will come rescue me soon. Thank god for the fact that I have friends, even if it’s just two, in California. They finally showed up, without a spare key, because of course, we aren’t smart enough to have a spare key. Spare keys are for losers. Thankfully, again, the mister has a phone with the internet. And thankfully again (I was just full of thanks), our insurance company rocks. They tracked my location and sent a guy. It took the guy almost an hour, of course, so the mister and I hung out in the post office parking lot (how creepy are we). Once the tow guy finally showed up, it takes all of one minute to open the door. The worst, and yet, the best.

Okay, I realize now when I put it into words – it doesn’t seem nearly as traumatic. But all I could think was, “What if the mister hadn’t answered his phone? What in the world would I have done? I could have been kidnapped. Or shot. Or I could have frozen to death.” I’m lucky I even remembered his cell phone number. The only other person I could think to call was my mom (3,500 miles away on the East Coast) and cry to her. I’m secretly a big fat baby at heart.

And also, I didn’t get to go to the craft store. So that sucked.

I do feel like I complain a lot. But that's what blogs are for, right?

Rice Cakes at the BK Lounge

Wondering where I’ve been for the last two weeks? No worries, I’ll fill ya in.

Since my last post (I think I was making shadow puppets?), I’ve been super busy. I’m actually not sure what I’ve been doing, but I feel like I’ve been super busy. Midterms and dieting and (trying to) exercise more and cooking and buying cats and following the election and visiting with family. A few Mondays ago, my cousin drove three hours (one way) to visit with me for about 24 hours. We ended up exploring a richy-rich town south of me and found a beautiful beach overlooking the greens of Pebble Beach golf course. A ton of surfers in the water, cousin says, “I want to see a shark attack.” And… I kid you not, within ten seconds, I see a circle of fins within a hundred from the surfers. “NO @#!$%^& WAY!”… Good thing there were no children around. I have the worst potty mouth ever. Relax, all. I didn’t witness a bloody surfer massacre. They were dolphins, and I am still way too excited about seeing said dolphins. I think I bring it up in conversation once a day.

I also got a kitten. Again. You may be asking yourself, “Didn’t she just get a kitten a few months ago?” The answer is yes. I am becoming a crazy cat lady. Around Halloween, the SPCA was having an “Happy Meow-loween” event and cats/kittens were on sale. I love sales, and cats/kittens, and the adorableness of the word “Meow-loween.” Anyway, my new kitten’s name is finally decided, and it’s Toby (Tobes for an annoying but cute nickname). My other cat is Fiona (Feeny for short). Feeny & Tobes are finally starting to accept each other. I wouldn’t go as far as “love” each other… but they’re becoming accepting of the fact that they’re roommates. Following all this blah blah blah will be an amazing video about a crazy cat lady. My best friend sent me this via FB about two weeks ago, and I almost died of laughter. I know that’s what people always say, but I’m not kidding. I almost died. Okay, I didn’t almost die. I almost peed though. I almost peed right in my pants.

Also, as I’m sure you all know from annoying commercials and lawn signs and crude FB posts, the election was this week. I won’t discuss politics. JK… I’ll say a few things. This week, specifically on Tuesday night, I was damn proud to be an American. And a Mainer (always a Mainer at heart, even if I live in California. Don’t ask questions). I was a strong Obama supporter because I love my body and I respect women and their rights, and it was evident to me that some people thought differently. And on another note, my home state voted yes on 1 – which was the topic of gay marriage. I can’t imagine NOT being allowed to marry my mister. Although he is of the opposite sex , IF he were a woman… I would probably love him the same. Probably.

And on another note, I’ve been on this “diet” of sorts for the past three weeks. Someone told me that I needed to get the “diet” idea out of my head and just learn that it’s a way of life, but I don’t really know how to explain that to people when I explain why I can’t eat a hundred pounds of stuff-crust Pizza Hut pizza like I’m dying for. So the diet/lifestyle/whatever you want to call it is a shake meal replacement program (called Visalus, in case you were wondering), and it really is great. It takes a TON of self-control for me to behave (food-wise), but my mister is super-supportive, so I’ve been doing alright. Last night at Burger King… I even ate a rice cake while my sister ate BK dinner. And on to my next point…

My youngest sister, a junior in high school, is currently in California visiting two different colleges with a group of people from her school/church. They flew into LAX, which is about 6 hours south of me, but then drove up to San Jose, which is an hour north of me. What are the chances? I drove up there yesterday afternoon to grab her and drive her all the way back to Monterey to show her my house, my mall, my Coldstone and my pizza place, my ocean, and my sea lions. We spent two hours in Monterey before we had to drive back. 302 miles of driving… lucky I drive a 4 cylinder. When we got back to San Jose, she needed dinner, so we headed to the BK lounge. And what are the chances… I’m sitting and eating my stupid dry rice cake and she comes over to me… and says, “Chicken sandwiches are buy one, get one free today!” and hands me a damn sandwich. And boy was she persistent on forcing me to eat it. And guess what? I DIDN’T! (Well, I had a nibble). But overall, I DIDN’T EAT THE SANDWICH. And that’s a big deal to me. #selfcontrolforthewin #yesijusthashtaggedinmyblog #donthateme

And speaking of annoying hash tags, I am newly addicted to Instagram. So stalk me please. @kbmasters24

Rice cake at the BK. No joke.

Feeny being lazy and Tobes photo-bombing.

My sis! <3

This is the link to the cat video. Please watch it. It'll change your life.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTTwcCVajAc&feature=youtu.be

Slackin'

Dear world,

I'm super-slacking on my blog lately. I'd love to say that my life's been super crazy busy and I've had no blog time. However, that may not be true...

This is a short blog entry about what I promise to do sometime in the next few weeks. I promise to write a blog about my new kitty friend and include a hilarious video that my best friend sent me. I'm slowly turning into a crazy cat lady.

I will also write a blog, someday, about my upcoming (like, tomorrow) visit with sister numero two. She's traveling all the way from Maine to California to visit a few colleges, and ends up an hour north of me. YAY for sister time.

So for now, that's all I got. My battery is dying and this is a race against the clock to even post this. Wish me luck. Also, I can't stand the internet for one more minute. Too many people reminding me to vote, and bitching about the election. I think I'll just go shopping instead. Don't worry, I voted three weeks ago. Not so slacker-ish, after all.

Peace, friends. 

Yep, I just said that.

HAH - a little election humor for your Tuesday afternoon.

Weird and Crazy and Crazy and Weird

I don’t understand why I have any friends. Or why people talk to me. Because I’m so weird. So so so weird. And within the last 24 hours, I’ve thought “Wow, I’m so weird,” or “Wow, I’m going crazy” way too many times.

Last night, the mister and I were so incredibly tired, and as we collapsed into bed, something about the position of the lamp and the big empty canvas of a wall motivated us to play shadow puppets. Like children. I love him because we are both absolutely little tiny children at heart. We did this for way too long. There’s a video attached of him being… some animal. He also did a bunny, which turned into a “ghetto bunny.” Please don’t ask. That was the art of his brain, not mine. He then proceeded to sing a line from “In the Ghetto” by the king of Rock n’ Roll himself, good ol’ Elvis Presley. See – the mister is just as weird as I am. Thank the lord. And the only shadow puppet I could do was a dinosaur-ish animal that just wanted to eat all of the mister’s animals. So so so weird. Also, I couldn’t stop looking at how huge my legs/feet looked in the shadow on the wall. “Look at those puppies – they’re like a size 13.”

Moving on to why I’m going crazy. There has been an alarm of some sort – probably a smoke detector – going off in a vacant house across the street for three days now. THREE DAYS. Like, 72 hours of “beep beep beep.” I can only hear it when the windows are opened, or when I’m outside, or when it’s permanently implanted into my brain all day every day. True story. Last night trying to fall asleep, I could hear it. Over and over. And then I fell asleep and had two very crazy dreams: one that my high school reunion was on a cruise ship that was floating through shark-infested waters and I was the only one freaked out about going swimming, and the other that my sister had to be rushed to the emergency room because the glass on the stove top shattered while she was making macaroni and cheese, and pieces were lodged into her chest. That’s screwed up, I know. I told you, I’m going crazy. She was in good spirits and surprisingly in very little pain, in case you were wondering. And this was all just a crazy dream my tiny little pea-sized brain created, in case you’re late to the party.

Then I thought I just had a rough night, and that I would be less crazy in the morning. FALSE. I was headed to the bank, and a car pulled up next to me. A sweet old lady smiled at me and her ugly-but-cute little dog was hanging out the window. I’m pretty sure it was smiling at me too. The dog and the old woman looked very strangely alike, but that might’ve just been my crazy brain. The first thing I thought to myself was, “Awe, I’m making friends. At a stoplight. Because stuff like that happens.” FALSE. As soon as that damn light turned green, the lady cut me off like we were rounding the 3^rd left turn. I was waiting for her to flip me the bird… it was THAT weird of a situation.

So in the meantime, I’m just over here being weird and going crazy and loving my equally weird and crazy mister. That’s all for now.

This is a picture of the "Notes" app on my phone. This is how I brainstorm for my blog. Weird and crazy... I wasn't kidding.

This is the mister's "hermit crab" - he's so talented.

Yeah... this happened.

Crazy Brunette

I wanted this blog to be about the story of my time in Maine. But all I can think about is the crazy lady I sat next to on the plane ride home. Seriously.Crazy.

So let me get the Maine part out of the way. It was a blast, and I was on the go from the day I got there to the day I got home. Nonstop. The weather was decent. I got to visit just about everyone I wanted to see. I spent a ton of time with my mom, which was well overdue, and also with my 4 year-old sister, who is the cutest girl with the biggest attitude. We ate so much food, and I surprisingly only gained 1 pound, which is about 15 times less than I expected to gain. I also met all kinds of new friends thanks to momma. I spent some quality time with the best friend, almost cried when we said goodbye, but was instead distracted by the “tickle fight” she attacked me with (who does that?)… love love love that girl.

So now the story of the crazy plane lady… don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Before I start, let me say – the 3 hour time change is something I never adjusted to, so when I woke up at 5:00 am on the day of my travels, it still felt like 2:00 am. A long day ahead of me, indeed. I took a bus to Boston, so I was already tired by the time I boarded the Boston to San Fran plane. Waiting at the gate, an old woman with a weird looking long-haired dog didn’t seem to notice that her dog’s bark was echoing through the entire airport. I prayed and prayed that she wasn’t sitting anywhere near me, and of course, when I boarded, she was DIRECTLY in front of me, yappin’ dog and all. The plane was big, stuffy, and packed full with crying babies – just my luck.

The woman next to me reminded me of my mom, except that she was a brunette with long hair and my mom’s a blonde with short hair, but whatever. She started chatting my ear off before we began to move. She seemed nice enough, except that every time I put my headphones in, she’d start a new conversation. By the time we had taken off, she told me the sad story of her 22 year-old daughter. She had just died in the beginning of September. Sad, right? From a heroin overdose. Too much information, right? Brunette went on to tell me that her daughter was working as a stripper in Oregon and was also a recovering drug addict. Brunette found her in her bedroom on the morning she died, which is very super sad to hear, but how uncomfortable was that conversation for me… Brunette cried a little and asked me if I wanted to see the tattoo she’d just gotten of her daughter. Before I could answer, she was unbuttoning her shirt. Yeah, seriously. Off came the shirt, and she had nothing but a very small tank top on as she made me hold up her hair so I could see the new shoulder tattoo of her daughter’s face. I wanted to say something like, “She was beautiful,” but I was so weirded out by holding Brunette’s hair that I was speechless. All I wanted to do was sleep, and all she wanted to do was talk about “dead daughter,” as she kept awkwardly referring to her daughter. Her other daughter, who was traveling with her but sitting in the front of the plane, had just donated eggs in Boston, and for another hour or two, I got to hear all of THOSE fun details. Some people…

So after the longest plane ride of my life (6 hours felt like 60), Brunette said, “Good luck with the rest of your travels,” and I couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t refer to her daughter, so I smiled like a creep and got the hell out of there.

I took a plane that was smaller than my kitchen from San Fran to Monterey, and guess who sat DIRECTLY behind me? Yappin’ dog lady with her ugly little yappin’ dog. After an incredibly scary plane ride home, I finally made it. My husband was waiting for me at baggage claim, and his cutesy little smile made my weird and never-ending day so much better. We had some awesome Chinese food, and I was asleep by 8:30 pm. My life.

Seriously...

Travels

I actually hate traveling – it’s energy-draining and there are so many things that could go wrong. But I’ve had decent luck in the past, so I figured all would be well today… and this is the story of what happens when your brain gets a little too cocky like that.

Although I hate traveling, I love getting places. Like for example, Maine. Currently I’m on a stuffy airplane somewhere over a handful of mountains, and I’m finally on my way to Boston. I flew out of Monterey this morning, waking up before the sun was out and getting all dolled up to see my mom, my sister, and my best friend tonight. And by “all dolled up,” I mean… showered. I actually did dry my hair and put some make-up on, which I should know by now is pointless, because after that San Fran – Boston flight, I always look just about dead, like I haven’t slept in 48 hours and haven’t showered in a week. I don’t know what about flying makes me so gross looking after a short… 9 hours.

So I got to the Monterey airport, which (no joke) has 5 gates. To put it into perspective, I boarded at gate 80 in San Fran, so yeah… Monterey’s kinda tiny. There was a SINGLE bathroom, like, with a locking door and everything. That was strange to me. So I’m scheduled to leave at 9:23 (board around 8:45) and I, of course, was at the airport ready to go by 8:00. So I did my history homework – nobody should be doing history-related anything at that hour. 9:00 rolls around and there’s not a single airport employee in sight. Instead, there’s a bunch of (no, not a bunch, like 10) travelers beginning to panic. Our plane is right outside the window. Then I overhear that wretched word, the one I’d been trying to avoid all morning: “delayed.” Apparently President Obama was at the San Fran airport, and the intensely heightened security is like, a big deal, or something. Damn you, President. Good thing I already voted. Joking… I really hate Mitt Romney. Please don’t stop reading my blog because I stupidly shared my political views with you.

So anyway… delayed until 11:00, which ever so conveniently, is the time my connection was scheduled to leave from San Fran. Damn.

After an impossibly long conversation with a handful of employees who really had no idea what was going on, I ended up booking another San Fran – Boston flight, which is nice, but still annoying that I’m arriving three hours later. I’m tired already.

The upside to this day is that nobody is in the middle seat on this impossibly long flight. It’s the little things in life. The downside, besides that I have already missed a flight and I’m not even halfway done my incredibly long day, is that I paid $12 for a Caesar salad that was consumed in five bites and a Broccoli and Cheddar soup that was damn nasty, not to mention cold by the time I got to eat. Also, I have a headache from hell and there are not one, but two children in the seats in front of me, doing annoying children things. And, the lady in the nearby seat has the need to continue talking to me moments after I put my ear buds in, and we are discussing Libya – how she thinks it was a set up and there are all too many questions left unanswered. Yeah, all my questions are left unanswered, because I know nothing about Libya (the most un-cultured person award goes to… ME). Yay for traveling.

UPDATE: I made it. Obviously. Late night appetizers, margaritas, and laughs at Applebee's with my girls were just what the doctor ordered. We got home around 1:30 am, and guess what? My mom turned the heat on for me. Favorite child much? In case you don’t know us that well – this is like, a BIG deal. She generally doesn’t turn the heat on until after Christmas. That’s kind of a lie, but not turning the heat on until after Thanksgiving – that’s not really stretching the truth.