Day 1

Day 1 of our annual meeting is done. I'm having a hard time walking (and not to sound like I'm 76 or anything) but I've loaded up on advil so I should be set for the swelling in my knees and ankles to go down.  Totes hot.

I've spent the day with almost 300 of my closest scientist friends talking about antibodies, antigens, replicating vectors, viruses, proteins, DNA and other such fancy things. I smile and nod mostly and laugh when social queues deem appropriate.

Our evening event was the show-stealer (for me).  And I'd like to redact any of previous statements along the lines of "I bet that new Chihuly exhibit is totally overated."  Mark this day in history: I was wrong.

For our evening event we rented out the new Chihuly Garden and Glass space. It was nothing short of amazing. You've gotta see it, especially at night.  Wow, just wow.

No really, go see it. Don't be wrong like me.

Tomorrow night we are hosting a private concert at The Triple Door....like you do.  Stay tuned.

xo

Aside from working most of the weekend, I found some quiet time to savor some tiny blessings.

Lincoln Park early morning Sunday stroll, I spied:

There isn't a more amazing place to live than here.  There just isn't.  

And because I emotionally ate/devoured all my leftover mashed taters and pumpkin pie, the only thxgiving leftovers I had was turkey.  I because I was so over emotionally eating I made (from scratch) butternut squash soup and an accompanied toasted pear and turkey sandwich.

All dairy and gluten free so my stomach didn't let a gorilla out in my innards.  It tasted amazing and felt even better.  Three cheers for good and tasty decisions!

Welp....back at it tomorrow.

Be good to yourself.  Be kind to another.  Count blessings.

What's the What

This is the time of year where my world implodes on itself. My social life deteriorates. I work 70 hours a week. I run on fumes and fuel on chocolate.  But there is always and end in sight and it's creeping up.  On top of all that, here's what's the what.

Pops turned 60 - I helped him eat his dessert like the good daughter I am. 

Moms turned 61 - I ate her dessert, too.

House-sitting machine:  There was a week where I stayed at 4 houses in 6 days.  At one point when I emptied out my car I found 2 halloween costumes, a cocktail dress, a week's worth of business casual, six coats with a matching scarves, and enough shoes for any terrain or occasion.  I'm now mostly settled in West Seattle until January but swing by my place occasionally to make sure it's still standing. While here I'm taking care of the house.  Doing house-like responsibilities.   Like raking leaves.  It's my  favorite exercise in futility. 

About the only thing keeping me sane right now is my exercise regimen.  I'm training for a half marathon which means I spend copious amounts of time of running and going to boot camp. If it's cold, I go. If it's torrential down pour, I go. If it's sun shining and beautiful, I go.  Moral of the story is: I go.  My lungs and heart are usually on the verge of exploding from my chest and my arms are about to fall off because they hurt so bad but going keeps me sane. 

Eric Church/Justin Moore - On a regular Tuesday night I went to a sold out show at Comcast Arena that was maybe one of the best shows of my life.  You'd probably say the same if you loved country music.  A girlfriend had an extra ticket to the Eric Church show and I jumped at the chance.  I loved it.  There were real cowboys and country folks and then there were the city cowboy country folk.  The former wear cut off shirts, trucker hats, carharts or ratty jeans with a Skol ring.  Then there are city country folk who wear studded designer jeans, plaid button downs, ornamental cowboy hats and polished boots.  But they all drink shitty beer, shamelessly love country music and know every lyric to every song and belt it out like we are all in one big karaoke bar.  It was incredible. 

My Christmas gift to myself is a non-leaking car, re-aligned sunroof, new rear brakes and rotors and an 80k mile car service.  Merry frickin' Christmas.

Oh, and I got a new job!  Like a real grown up job. Same place, same team.  More details later, like when I'm not drowning doing my current job. But it's all real good.

The light at the end of the tunnel is getting brighter and when it's shining down on me, I'll be back in full force to wrap up the years with more regular and delightful posts from yours truly.

with thanks.

Mashed taters

pie and fresh whipped cream

family and friends

a job I love

a roof over my head

grace

growning pains

dark days to appreciate light nights

health

a good sweat

you

Holiday cheers has arrived, which I know for some, including me, isn't always cheerful.  In fact, it can be very hard.  If you're one of those people where holiday cheers doesn't always seem quite so, know you're not alone.  Know that it gets better.  Know that you are loved.  Know that as bad as it seems now you can look forward to a great future.  Know that tomorrow is a new day and give thanks for the walk you're walking now will soon be just a time of the past. Know that when all else fails, call ice cream dinner and take a nap. 

Hot Spicy & Spooky

It's no secret that I find Halloween the most loathsome day of year.

But because I'm turning over all sorts of new leaves, I dove into the Halloween spirit......thrice times. Thrice times more than I expected to.  Jules had a birthday so that helped.  I got a prize.

The first: Mad Scientist.  Halloween is a big deal at work.  Work stops, kids come, big party in the atrium, themed departments go all out for decorations, it's quite the to-do.  This year our team were mad scientists in which I looked more like a sexy librarian with glasses, button down, loosened tie and tussled hair.  Until I put on a full haz mat suit (complete with booties) and became something along the lines of the ghost busters blob.  No photos available but the party was a hoot!

The second: Tabasco sauce - hot spicy and everything nice.

I crafted my own hat to round out my tabasco sauce costume. It was my favorite.

Then there was actual Halloween night which was a game time decision.  I ran 4 miles which kicked my energy into high gear and pulled together a last minute costume and hit the town.  The skeleton was a costume, those dark circles under my ears were for realsies.  

The highlight of the holiday was the card the nephew sent me.  He's becoming quite the artist. 

I'm thinking turning over new leaves, as hard as it is, is just what I need in my life.  Maybe next time just less costumes involved.

Bagpipes

I don't know why this kills me but it does. There are tears rolling down my face and I'm having a hard time breathing. So funny.

Hope y'all had a great weekend.  I sure did.

Stay tuned for the details.

Conversation of last night

Post–date recap with PB:

me: just got back from a date, really nice guy

PB: and

me: employed

PB: haha

me: attractive

PB: does he have a car?

PB: and a cell phone?

me: has a car!

me: and a cell phone!

Jennifer: ok ok

me: (and ps. I'm dying that you're asking these questions)

me: (because we know you had to.)

It’s true, my dating history includes such experiences that the first questions she has to ask is if he has a car and a phone. So.....unfortunately.....true.

But it’s also true that it was a good date. Lots in common, easy to talk to, taller than me, attractive, owns his own business, home owner, ready for a family, athletic, smart, chivalrous, handy; has everything on the list that I’m looking for in a guy.  We even had a long conversation about etymology of the word “parrot”.  (i.e. Which came first? The word “parrot” being the bird or the verb “to parrot” that describes an action of mimicry, repetition without understanding .  We both presented our most logical evidence and reached no conclusion.) The English major in me was swooning.

EXCEPT (why is there ALWAYS an except?!) for one thing that I’m keeping close in order to determine if I need to get over “it”.  Not bad, just makes me sound super shallow if I can't, but I think any other person in my situation would have to consider the same issue.  So stay tuned for me to clear up that totally vague scenario. 

In other news:

The super hottie boot camp trainer asked how I was feeling in class and he can see the progress that he can see that I’m slimming down.  Which is super flattering because I am working my tuckus off, literally.

It’s true.  I’m a leaner, meaner (ok, not really), hill running, jumping jacking, squatting, military style burpie pushing machine.  Who wants to rip her legs off every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.   

In the mean time, work has me up to my eyeballs doing two peoples jobs while I apply for a third. 

So posts have been few and far between, but fall is here, I welcome it with apple cider in one hand and pumpkin spice steamers in the other.

Love and peace friends.

Keys.....Again

Remember that onetime I locked myself out of my apartment.  That was less than cool. 

Well it happened again and is was even less cool than the last less than cool situation.

This is a saga so get comfortable.

I got up at 6:45 on a Saturday morning to go for my run.  After my 3 mile run I arrived back at my at my apartment sweaty tired/on verge of death/exasperated.  Reaching into my pocket I searched for my key.  You know, that super helpful key that let's you into your house that you've locked.

It was gone.  No key in said pocket where originally placed.  I have to be somewhere at 8:45 and so I figure I have just enough time to rerun my route and still be on time, just skip the shower (which gross, but a possibility).  So I rerun my route, the whole time staring at the beautiful golden leaves on the ground, which at every glimmering light look like a key.  Of course, I'm wearing no contacts, so what do I know? I quite convinced I look like a rabid dog looking for a fix.  I arrived back at my apartment and still with no key in hand and now have run 6 miles. 

Now I'm in a real pickle.  My super convenient phone is in my locked apartment, along with my other keys. I finally succumb to the idea of calling a locksmith.  But how?  No phone.  I walk to the main street and Eat Local, a locally sourced prepared meals shop that is miraculously open and a very sweet young lady is working there calls a locksmith. 

An eternity passed, I've now missed my 8:45.   It's close to 9:30 by the time the lock smith arrived.  Super long story short: my super safe deadbolt lock could not be picked. It could not be drilled.  It could not be drilled in so much that the locksmith busted 8 drill bits trying to get in. 

Now, I have a 10:45 appointment that I CANNOT miss (it's personal and borderlines on an overshare so I'll spare you).  And with every moment passing I am calculating how fast I have to drive to get there on time.   The locksmith FINALLY gets in at 10:20 am and I run in, to get my wallet.

"So, your total comes to $300." Are you effing kidding me? $300?! I about fell over, but didn't have time. I lay down the Amex and bemoan being an adult. 

I race off to my appointment and make it just on time. 

By the time I get home I at almost 1:00 pm:

• Have been up since 6:45
• Have run 6 miles
• Am freezing cold from still wearing my sweaty running clothes
• Have not ate or drank a morsel or a drop
• Am pissed I just spent $300 to open my effing door
• Have survived my personal appointment. Barely. 
• Feel stranded, helpless and lonely
• Oh right, and now I have no way to lock my place from inside or the outside and won't until the following Wednesday.

Here's where shit gets real:

I'm a little paranoid and hyper-sensitive about my personal safety.  So with an non-lockable apartment I had only one option. 

Booby-trap.

That's right, I was going to startle my would-be attacker.  Works every time.

So armed with a box fan, dining room chair and a hula hoop, I strategically placed each item on the door to ensure the largest noise possible.  This was not scientific, strictly based on hypothesis. 

Yeah...that happened:

If intruders made it past the first roadblock, certainly the wouldn't expecting a second.  So I created a second.  I took a area rug rolled up and placed it diagonally across the top of the stairwell.  Crazy, you say. Genius, I say.

For FOUR nights, after getting ready for bed I would booty-trap my apartment, thinking of various Rube Goldberg like scenarios that would ensure my safety. And for FOUR mornings I would wake up, un-booby trap my door and leave it unlocked and be grateful that I'm wasn't particularly attached to any of my earthly possessions.  

The landlord did eventually replace the deadbolt and my belongings and I were safe.  In this whole process I learned a very important lesson. 

Stop running. 

Overheard in the Office

Things I bet you don’t hear this in your office:

 

·    "For today’s talent show we’ll be doing an interpretive dance of HIV transmission." - MG

·    "LC broke SB penis and then taped the foreskin back together." - KC

·    "The average woman can have about 3 – 4 vaginal biopsies a year.  Men can have 30-40 rectal biopsies a year and never even know what’s happening. Something about nerve endings."  –SB

 

All in one day.

Can it be the weekend yet?

Morning Person

No one ever accused me a of being a morning person.  In fact quite the opposite.  It takes me a good hour (or more) to wake up and be fully engaged with the world. Which is why I particularly enjoy my morning walks I take every day.  They are good slow way to wake up and since I don't sleep much these days, the early morning is wide open. Up at 6:30, I get to wake up with the city.  I tend to see the same folks on my walk and there is usually the hospitable nod or small smile that let's you know that they are in on the secret.

Today's morning was particularly lovely.

I found a new park that perfectly framed this Seattle sunrise. People, I live here. Sometimes I don't believe it either.

I spied these chickens, just diggin' in the front yard. Like you do in urban Seattle.

Then I made almond milk which I'm pretty sure is going to be life changing.

All this before 9:00 am on a Sunday. Maybe, just maybe, I'm becoming a morning person.