Monstrous Inconvenience

I walked home from my knitting class last night as usual. I have nearly completed my first sweater, and it looks AWESOME. (To be modeled here in the near future) Since the class takes place at Hill Top Yarn, aptly named for its location atop Queen Anne, it’s usually an easy walk down the hill, over the bridge, quick stop in the bar so Alyona can make fun of me for knitting, and then safely home. However, upon reaching the Nickerson Saloon (not bar destination previously mentioned), I’m met by the spectacle of the Fremont bridge raised for repairs, for the night. This would leave my only routes home as routing all the way to the Ballard Bridge, back up the imposing north side of Queen Anne to trudge over Aurora or just swimming the canal. I chose the hill as the shortest in distance that kept me dry, and was rather impressed I made it up Fulton Street without passing out winded.

And thus my usual 20 minute walk turned more of an hour hike. Not the most fortuitous start to the week, but probably good on the exercise front.

Fremont Bridge holds a certain prehistoric monster aura when raised on a clear night. Perhaps raising it disturbs the dragons or trolls that call it home. Certainly smaller trolls than live under Aurora, but certainly something creepy has to slink away during the nocturnal maintenance that messes with my trip home.

A lot of very little

It would seem I quit blogging in the spring. I’m fairly certain this has gone entirely unnoticed by the public at large, but here goes one more shot before abandoning the Club for good. Since I have an excessive number of leisure hours with which I do nothing productive, perhaps I should busy myself with something that at least engages the brain cells, rather than frittering them away. There is also a distant chance someone might pay me to write something, and I should probably make sure I remember how to put together words in something more complicated than a corporate speak email or travel itinerary.

How to start? I’m opting for the random wrap up of what I’ve been doing in the last six months or so.

Since last March I…

Went to Mexico. Turned 30. Since it happened in Mexico, I’m uncertain as to whether I’ll count this birthday; though the trip totally rocked. Got a tan. Well, first a severe sunburn followed by a tan, which I still have to some degree because my skin is quite delicate and holds on to any kind of impression for a crazy long time; see also scars and bruises. Went blond again. Some really sassy highlights that I might get done again because I think I make a decent icy blond. Or at least frosty blond. Was in yet another wedding. Survived reading a poem, and thank goodness they aren’t the type to go in for videography. Possibly developed a drinking problem. Ok, more likely just continued to indulge a possible drinking problem. Not the day drinking and endangering others type problem. I’m sure I’m the only one at risk from my ill advised consumption. Just a pattern of over indulgence on the weekends that should probably be alarming. Am sure my mother would be appalled. I try not to worry her about my self destructive streak to often. Made questionable decisions regarding men. Frequently aided by previously mentioned overindulgence. Survived, despite what the Christian school upbringing and horror films always suggested. Had an oddly high number of house guests which I’m sure encouraged me to be better about my housekeeping. Houseguests included my oft estranged sister. Her impact on my housekeeping was negligible. Got a Roomba. Love him! Much better than cat or dog in the pet department. Took another stab at fish ownership. Fabio is still alive four months later, and has shown no signs of ill health. Might not actually be cursed. Took a positive career step in taking over company intranet design and updating. No one noticed. Got all new bosses at work. Mixed bag as far as personalities, but that’s the nature of the EA gig. Still thinking I should get out of the EA gig. Have no idea what else I’m truly qualified to do. Will continue to make the company intranet, which no one gives a damn about, my own little kingdom of work stuff I don’t despise. Am working on the mental preparedness necessary to buy a house. Still edgy about the commitment. Still playing soccer. No noticeable skill increase. Have gotten back into knitting. Might actually complete a sweater this week. Gained back weight shed before Mexico trip.

Now back to my regularly scheduled progress into boozy spinsterhood.

Ladies night and phallic entertainment

It was a girl’s night out in Belltown for Abby’s birthday. Since I will soon be the last unattached gal in my crowd, this centered more on chick bonding then boy hunting. So be it, I shall man wrangle solo.

The quality girl time evolved copious amounts of delicious food and wine, embarrassing our waiter with unabashedly frank relationship experiences and finishing up the evening with rooftop cigars.

I’ve never taken to smoking, which is just as well since I have enough vices. The cigars were fun though; perhaps because inhaling is discouraged. The mental image of me hanging out with stogy is particularly hilarious, so I don’t see this becoming a habit even without the prohibitions of cost and poor health. I could however attempt a badass demeanor at my next poker game. It might distract from the incredibly uneven play and nonexistent poker face.

Abby's shot of us prepped to hit the town turned out far better than my fuzzy, cam phone rooftop attempt at the end of the night.

Night out in Belltown

Cigars on they roof for Ab's birthday

Incredible shrinking woman

The newly discovered passion for soccer, combined with birthday plans in Mexico involving a lot of beach time, has resulted in exercise and fitness becoming a top priority for me. If this had kicked in sooner maybe I would be more successfully burning up the singles scene, but I’ll have to contend myself with just being toned at 30. So far the scale is refusing to budge in the numbers game, but it would seem that some inches of me have gone missing. To wit, this last weekend I was able to resurrect a pile of clothes that had been given up for lost.

My closet cleaning process is a long one, and it doesn’t happen nearly often enough. If something doesn’t fit, yet I still like it, it gets relocated to a drawer or box in the closet, so as to stop taunting me with its current unsuitable state. Then after some unknown period of time, these hidden garments are revisited to test once again for fit. Generally, there is no coming back from exile. On the rare occasion it has occurred, the triumph of once again fitting into the garment is tempered by it being hopelessly out of fashion.

I am reticent to do much clothing shopping until the desired birthday size is achieved, so this interim infusion of slightly used but not hopelessly outdated clothes is a welcome break from just embracing the baggy look. Not as much fun as buying all new stuff, but satisfying all the same. Plus, I’m shrinking! Yay!

GOL!

It would seem I have been quite woeful in the updating of this blog. Since I perform these updates primarily for my own edification and in keeping with my new year’s resolution, it is all the more shameful for this to be the first post in the month of February.

Once this failing became evident, I felt pressured to come back with something good, something worth waiting for, however, nothing of note came up. (Though, if it did, I’m going with the story of it being either excessively dull or too juicy for public consumption in an attempt to build an air of mystery.) Time passed, and it needed to be even better.

Well, naturally, nothing big happened, and I’m as devoid of deep thoughts as ever, thus here is the gripping recounting of my first soccer goal, as an adult, possibly ever.

It was Monday night, and we were in the sixth game of a thus far 1 and 5 season. We were actually ahead, which tends to lift team spirits overall, an unfamiliar sensation. It being the end of a holiday weekend, I was gamely playing with a headache and slight hangover from having just a bit too much fun Sunday night.

Some average size dude from the opposing team was bringing the ball down the boards toward our goal, and in a surprising show of competence, I managed to strip it away and stay with it on the other side of the challenge. Suddenly, it’s me at midfield in a situation clearly calling dribbling down the pitch. Not a strong point for my game. I managed to stay ahead of the pursuing opposition for a few steps, pass off to one of my own team mates with some precision and prepare to move back to my defensive responsibilities. A job adequately done.

Then said team mate ends up passing back to me around midfield despite the constant evidence that passing to me on purpose rarely produces positive results. I booted the ball back down to the end, where, had there been no goalie present the ball would have likely bounced ineffectually off the wall, a few inches from entering the goal. However, the goalie was there and promptly scooped the ball up. I was in full retreat to provide defense when Andrea sent out an astonished shout that I scored, and everyone began trotting back to kickoff positions. It would seem that the goalie bobbled the ball once collecting it, dropping it into his own goal.

Sure, it’s a stretch to claim the goal as my own, but I’m taking it. Even if I didn’t vastly prefer sticking to defense, it is unlikely my most useful soccer skills of being an obstacle or running a step or two behind incoming opposition would ever result in a goal. Thus, I’m taking it. I am now a goal scorer. Perhaps someday another flash of luck and happenstance might even lead to me being a scorer of goals.

UNMATCHED

I would like to say I'm bad at dating, but it would seem necessary to actually go on dates before rating my success level. To this end, I occasionally consider entering the online personals realm, but I can never quite get over my hang-ups.

To preface, I have no doubt that meeting people can be highly effective and satisfying. In all practicality, the internet is just another public space in which you can meet up with friends and strangers alike. I have no problem with online dating, in theory; I just can’t do it myself, yet.

First, I’m not ready to give up the first impression experience when meeting someone in person. Sure, deception is practically standard in dating; only revealing layers of truth over time, and it can be done as effectively in person as remotely. I still hold to the belief that some form of twitchy, shifty, calloused, distant, clingy, creepy behavior is more likely to slip through when directly interacting with someone than when masked by the text medium.

I’m also reticent to submit my image and personal details to an infinitely replicable and editable medium. Though I have caved somewhat with MySpace and Blogger accounts, I haven’t yet found my profile info scraped and redistributed on any alternative adult sites I didn’t submit to, as happened to a friend of mine who suddenly found out his image was being used to draw customers to a gay personals site.

And the current, decisive reason I choose to steer clear of the internet for my socializing is my rage over the Match.com logo. With the extensive advertising push in the ramp up to Valentine’s Day, this offensive little logo has been foisted into my awareness. It consists of figures that are usually used to designate men’s and women’s public bathrooms. The male figure stands there, strait as ever while the female cuddles up against him kicking her rounded heal behind her in blissful glee. Yes, the man stands impassively while the woman vies for his attentions and clings. This gross generalization of dating stereotypes only adds to the pains of interpersonal miscommunication and insults half of Match’s customer base.

The Eagle

Opening weekend @ the SAM sculpture park

Is it really so hard to spell ‘pussy’?

I have inherited the new work responsibility of acting as primary media contact for the marketing department. Basically, this means that when anyone fills out the website form, it’s directed to my email. Thus, I get a lot of spam. An army of bots are out there automatically filling in the form with solicitations for insurance, erectile dysfunction medication and lots of porn. I only have to scan through them enough to ensure there aren’t any legitimate media inquiries, so I get to read the brief descriptions of what is likely contained in the masses of links so considerately sent my way.

I’m not sure if I’m more appalled that someone has actually produced dirty Kim Possible images or by the atrocious grammar skills of adult material purveyors.

Yet another day I failed to wear adequate footwear

The wind let up and now it snows, sort of. It's been a fun winter for the Emerald City.

Resolved

The year 2007 has started with a hangover, promptly followed by a sore throat and cold. Or, more accurately, it started in the midst of earning said hangover and progressed from there. In spite of this less than spectacular beginning, I am maintaining optimism for the coming months.

In keeping with the rosy outlook, I shall record my resolutions in this (moderately) public forum, so at least I might be shamed into adhering to them in the face of (moderate) public scrutiny.

1) Read more.
Since I am attempting to participate in two separate book clubs, I should be able to tackle at least two reasonably meaningful books a month, and throw in some pleasure reading besides. I like to read, and it is ridiculous how easy it is to push books to the back of the priority list when free time becomes available.

2) Determine a career path & actually make a plan.
I’m entirely too old and educated to still not know what I want to do even 5 years from now. This will take assessment, which I don’t enjoy all that much, and actual planning, which I am fairly decent at. Note: I’m not fully expecting to be “on” said path by the end of the year. I’ve determined the resolutions should be achievable goals, or else you just get fed up with even making them.

3) Write more.
There was a time I imagined I would be a writer, and there have been occasions when I might have demonstrated an actual knack with words. However, I have not put time and effort in this direction since school. Maybe with some committed effort and time I’ll find my voice. Or I could just discover I should stick with the consumption rather than production of words. Either way, better to know.

4) Get smaller.
Last year, and probably every year previous, I set out to lose weight. It’s the perpetual chick resolution. Finally, last year I succeeded in sticking to a solid fitness routine that has resulted in my being as healthy as I can remember being. I just didn’t get any smaller. If anything, I gained a few pounds. Sure, we can play the muscle vs. fat game of rational, but I haven’t given up the dream of actually taking up less space. I’ve got a pedometer, a gym membership, soccer gear and a diet plan that basically centers around cutting out alcohol. If I can’t see progress within the next month I’ll just have to start considering surgery. (mostly kidding)