Too Posh

My Christmas present from my father was a $300 to spend at a high end shop on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. With all that's going on, I was a bit shocked to receive such a generous present. This is especially true as he had me write and sign the Christmas gift for my brother, which was significantly less than $300. My dad said I had worked hard to get his affairs in order (my brother has contributed...not much) and he wanted me to have a nice outfit for work. He said that this store, hereafter referred to as Posh Store, was having a huge sale and I should be able to afford a nice outfit.

I said nothing, but I was quite skeptic on how well this expedition would turn out. Posh Store probably has trouser socks that begin at $200. I can't imagine finding an entire outfit unless I time warp back into 1975 or Posh Store is having a 95% sale. Also, after checking the online site, Posh Store does not appear to cater to the plus-sized crowd. I have zero desire to walk in and have someone greet me at the door with the information that there is nothing in my size (yes, this has happened to me before).

If there is one thing I learned during my drive down Wilshire Blvd is that Rodeo Drive, while not as bad as Manhattan or downtown Chicago, is a damn obstacle course. Pedestrians disobey traffic lights and cars seem to stop wherever they please. People do use their emergency lights, but I have a hard time believing that there are that many vehicles in a small area in need of service at the same time.

Next time, I'll go to the official web site (I just found out there is one) and look at the map ahead of time. Fortunately, I only had to drive around the block twice before I found the parking for the store.

The sales lady was perfectly nice, and her face did not twitch one bit when I mentioned my price limit. She did agree, albeit quite obliquely, when I stated that clothes would *not* be sold in my size. Sadly, even purses were not available to me. There were some deeply discounted shoes in my price range. However, the bright colors, non-conservative styles, and high heels screamed "sex me, daddy" and not "I am a mature, professional woman." This was interesting as the shoes on their online site really are quite different than what was offered in the store.

I ended up getting a fragrance set, which included a charm bracelet in addition to the 3.4 oz bottle of perfume. Total price? There was a special going on so I was able to get the fragrance set for less than $200.

Weight Check - December 27, 2008

Current Weight: 299 pounds
This Week's Weight Loss: 0 pounds
Lost To Date: 0 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: 159 pounds
Weight loss goal for next weigh in: 3 pounds

Weight Loss Thoughts

Finally! After months of effort, this is the first week I have not gained weight. I missed my goal - I really dove into the garlic rolls at the holiday party - but I could not be happier. Woo hoo!

Weight Check - December 20, 2008

Current Weight: 296 pounds
This Week's Weight Loss: 0.5 pounds
Lost To Date: 0.5 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: 156 pounds
Weight loss goal for next weigh in: 3 pounds

Holiday Cheer

The office Christmas Party and gift exchange was yesterday. I ended up leaving work early due to a power outage; it's hard to work in complete darkness. The owner sent us out of the office early; everyone decided to go the restaurant and sit in the bar...at least I thought that was the plan.

I was the first person there by about half an hour. Now, there's nothing that screams, "I am a loser with no friends," like sitting at a table in the bar by yourself and reading a book. This is what I would have ended updoing as I literally had nothing to do. Instead of heading in the bar, I sat by the window and gazed out longingly for my coworkers. I was just about ready to give up and go to the bar to see if I could find someone that did not mind me sitting at their table when Richard showed up.

He looked rather uncomfortable when he saw it was just me, but I ran over and grabbed him anyway so that he had no choice but to keep me company until everyone else arrived. I am aware that Richard is a (not out) gay male, and I got the feeling that he was afraid I would try and hit on him. I quickly steered the topic of conversation to safe topics like travel to make him feel comfortable.

After about an hour of me pulling out every travel anecdote I could think of, another colleague showed up with her partner. I breathed an internal sigh of relief and did mental cartwheels when sat down to join us. Thank goodness as my conversation topics would shortly have been tapped as dry as the Los Angeles River during drought center. Most of my coworkers showed up after that, and we went into our private room for the party.

We started off the evening with appetizers, wine, and the white elephant gift exchange. I was the only one that brought a gag gift. As predicted I got a laugh, but not as big a one as I had hoped. My gift was opened by the only other woman working in the office. I'm sure I would have gotten a much bigger chuckle had one of the guys opened it. Predictably, no one would trade with her.

Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer

Background: Our office, which is predominately male, has a white elephant gift exchange every year during the holidays. This is my first year with the company. Per Wikipedia, a white elephant gift exchange is a popular party game where gifts are exchanged that are typically inexpensive, humorous items or used items from home and sometimes, they are just plain trash; the term white elephant refers to a gift whose cost exceeds its usefulness.

I've participated in white elephants before. They're fun as long as people abid by the rules. I've been to parties where people get quite emotional when their gift is stolen. I caused a frenzy myself when I brought a back massager (it had been deeply discounted on sale) to the white elephant gift exchange.

I asked around to get a feel for how past white elephant were handled. It seems that about 20% of the gifts are gag gifts. The other presents are quite nice.

This year, I decided to bring a gag gift. I originally looked for a carved, wooden Jesus. I preferred one that either lit up and/or played Christmas music. I had no luck. I perused Nordstrom.com until I found something that would also deliver a laugh, a Bella Band. I cackled like Baba Yaga just ordering it.

I purchased a Bella Band for a pregnant friend of mine. She loved hers. However, my office is heavily male, and most of them are in their early to mid-twenties. Trust me, their significant others won't be using the Bella Band anytime soon.

Weight Check - December 13, 2008

Current Weight: 296.5 pounds
This Week's Weight Loss: 0 pounds
Lost To Date: 0 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: 156.5 pounds
Weight loss goal for next weigh in: 3 pounds

Weight Check - December 6,2008

Current Weight: 295.5 pounds
This Week's Weight Loss: 0 pounds
Lost To Date: 0 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: 155.5 pounds
Weight loss goal for next weigh in: 3 pounds

I am embarrassed to know

I am in the process of getting caught up on my blog entries for the Blogger's Blog Tour. During the week of September 15 our blog topic was: What one thing you are embarrassed to know?

I remember reading an article a while ago that was a rebuttal to an ultra-conservative piece about how children should not be adopted by same-sex couples because they would be damaged by being raised under such conditions. The author of the rebuttal piece argued that children would we "damaged" by any notion of their parents' sexuality, regardless of whether those parents were the same gender or different genders.

This is so true.

When I was in high school, I operated under the happy delusion that my parents had sex the exact number of times it took to conceive my brother and I - two. As a grown up, I would say that - if pressed - I wish my mother and father fulfilling sex lives, but that I have no desire to know anything beyond that.

What does this have to do with what I am embarrassed to know?

In 2007, when it became clear that my father was not going to be able to return to his house, I began the massive task of sorting through his belongings. The house had been trashed by a crackhead that took up residence while my father was in the hospital (long story). While much of the furniture was gone, there were a lot of things scattered everywhere.

My nephews came to help so that we could get done faster.

I was sorting through a stack of odds and ends in the master bedroom when I came across my father's sex toys. What makes matters worse was that I gave a little shriek when I ran across his stash (I won't say what it was that I grabbed), so my nephews came running to see what had frightened me. They arrived just in time to find it in my hand with me trying to stuff it in the garbage bag and failing miserably. To this day, they get a kick out of recounting that story.

What am I embarrassed to know? I am embarrassed to be privy to the type of sex toys my father prefers.

Biggest Faux Pas

I am in the process of getting caught up on my blog entries for the Blogger's Blog Tour. During the week of September 8 our blog topic was: What is the biggest faux pas you've ever committed?

I reached back in my memory for anything that would make me cringe in embarrassment but that was not too mortifying to post. There are some stories that don't need to be told, even in a fairly anonymous blog.

It should be mentioned that I was a fairly spoiled child. My parents were not rich, but we were quite comfortable. Add that to the fact that I was generally well-behaved, especially in comparison to my rambunctious brother, and you'll see that I had a lot of privileges as a child. My mother and father certainly set boundaries, but there were times when my behavior went way over line.

Picture it. Los Angeles. 1979. My cousins and I attended the same elementary school. My aunt would pick us up from school. There were six of us kids in all, and we would wait at my aunt and uncle's house until our parents came to claim us. My aunt is a very soft-spoken and petite woman. She corrects with a quiet gentleness. It is this technique she used to tell me that my ears were in need of attention from a Q-tip.

I have no recollection of why this set me off so much. All I know is that I went into a screaming, tantrum at this suggestion. I kicked my aunt and called her a liar before going into full meltdown. Or rather, I started to go into full meltdown. My tantrum came to a complete halt when my uncle scooped me up from the floor by my neck (he had come home early from work and had entered the house without me noticing it) and began delivering a brisk spanking.

The spanking did not last long, but my backside ached for quite some time afterwards and my mortification lingered as well. I was sent to the basement (it was a rec room) to sit in the corner and contemplate the error of ways. To this day, I kind of cringe in horror when I think of my actions because my aunt is such a genuinely kind woman; it was a horrible way to treat her.

Worst Diet Food

Last week, we had a new question for the Blogger's Blog Tour: What is the worst diet food you've ever been served?

The first time I really started to plump up was when I was in high school. In response to my burgeoning waist line, my parents removed the high calorie snack food from the house - not that there was much to begin with - and replaced it with rice cakes.

Nowadays, Quaker Oats makes rice cakes come in yummy flavors such as apple cinnamon, peanut butter, etc. Back in the 1980s, the favors were a little more limited and a little more bland. Rice cakes were the Model T of the snack food world in that you could have any flavor you wanted so long as that flavor was plain.

The rice cakes we had in our house were bland, seriously bland. The air in the roof of my mouth had more flavor, and those rice cakes were actually tastier than the worst diet food I have ever been served.

The worst diet food I have ever been served is a Nutrisystem's Chicken Breast Patty. It should be said that, for diet food, Nutrisystem does a good job of providing low-calorie meals. Some of the food is tolerable and some of the food is quite yummy. The Chicken Breast Patty, however, is just flat out gross.

What's inside the package looks *nothing* like the photo on the outside, and it tastes like flavored rubber. The first time I tasted the Chicken Breast Patty, I took one bit, chewed maybe three times, spit it out, threw everything in the trash, and went to the cafeteria for a turkey burger.

Weight Check - September 27, 2008

Current Weight: 289 pounds
This Week's Weight Loss: 0 pounds
Lost To Date: 0 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: 149 pounds
Weight loss goal for next weigh in: 5 pounds

My Super Power

We have a new question for the Blogger's Blog Tour: What would your super power?

Given all my responsibilities right now, I would have to say that my super power would either be speed (e.g. Flash from DC Comics) or the ability to change my physical appearance (e.g. Mystique from Marvel Comics).

Having super speed would give me enough time to accomplish everything I have to do - sell my father's house, go through the remaining items that used to belong to my grandmother - and still have time for a social life. Plus, think of all the money I could save on gas by running at the speed of light to work as opposed to driving in. I would have time for a social life and to work out.

Speaking of working out, I would love to have the ability change my physical appearance. I could keep myself fit and trim without having to work out or reduce my food intake. Mystique rocks the skin-tight spandex. I could achieve the same look with minimal effort. Ha!

Plans for the Summer

We have a new question for the Blogger's Blog Tour: What are your plans for the summertime?

I have fallen a bit behing on the Blogger's Blog Tour so I will be posting three entries today.

While I have several scheduled events (e.g. Family Reunion) this summer, my main plan is rather nebulous. I want to, once and for all, get through the remaining major tasks I have for my father so that I can have my life back.

Last year around Memorial Day weekend I completely revamped my budget so that I would have more free cash for things like the local film festivals. Shortly thereafter, I got a phone call that my father was in intensive care and my costs have spiraled upward.

I want to be done with this so that I can have my social life back and stop spending so much money.

My Shoe Despair

Background: A little over a year ago, I was left with a heel spur after the Los Angeles Marathon. As a result, I have to wear orthotic inserts in my shoes or I am in complete agony at the end of the day. My feet are not wide, but the orthotic inserts are. It's been an ordeal finding shoes wide enough and deep enough to fit my inserts. There is really not a lot to choose from in my closet.

I went shopping for eleventy millionth time this past weekend. I have been to Nordstrom, Macy's, DSW and so on. Each store's sole focus for women was hooker shoes.

Have I really gotten so old that I am no longer anyone's target market? I certainly cannot see myself wearing animal print, platform, or spiked heel shoes. Surely, department stores must cater to women past the age of 23.

Don't get me wrong, fuck-me-shoes certainly do have their place, but not at my job. I need shoes that say, "I am a sensible, professional woman," instead of, "Take me now, baby! I want you so badly!"

I gave up after several hours. Now my hope is on my best friend who lives in a more renown fashion capital than I do.

Weight Loss Thoughts

Last week I worked out 5 days for two times per day. I spent 45 minutes in the morning doing lunges, squats, and dips with free weights along with other strenuous exercises. I was breathing hard and drenched with sweat at the end of each work out. I spent 45 minutes in the evening walking. I cut back my food intake and concentrated on eating more fruits and vegetables.

For all this work, I lost....one pound. It makes me wonder. If I had eaten a Twinkie, would I have still lost weight? What would have happened had I not worked out twice a day? Being old and fat sucks so much. I don't recall having to work quite this hard to burn calories a decade ago. If I was not so determined to reduce the size of my gut so that it no longer sticks out further than my booty, I would be totally demoralized.

Weight Check - June 21, 2008

Current Weight: 282.5 pounds
This Week's Weight Loss: 1 pound
Lost To Date: 3.5 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: 142.5 pounds
Weight Loss Goal for Next Weighin: 6.5 pounds

Weight Check - June 14, 2008

Current Weight: 283.5 pounds
This Week's Weight Loss: 1.5 pounds
Lost To Date: 2.5 pound
Pounds from Goal Weight: 143.5 pounds
Weight loss goal for next weigh in: 5.5 pounds

Weight Check - June 7, 2008

Current Weight: 285 pounds
This Week's Weight Loss: 1 pound
Lost To Date: 1 pound
Pounds from Goal Weight: 145 pounds
Weight loss goal for next weigh in: 6 pounds

Reading is Fundamental

We have a new question for the Blogger's Blog Tour: Tell us about one book that changed your life.

Feel free to post your own answer in the comment box, and let me know what you think of mine.

I cannot answer this exactly because I don't have any one book that changed my life. Nearly every book I have read has left some sort of impact, even those books I put down in disgust. Let me explain.

I was a painfully shy child. I interacted well with family and people that I was used to, but strangers? I would hide behind my mother when someone I did not know tried to greet me. The unfortunate thing is that I did not want to be shy, but contact with people I did not know would cause me to become tongue-tied and inevitably I would shrink away in fear.

Books were an escape. They were a place to go where I could be brave (Nancy Drew series), choose my own path (Choose Your Own Adventure series), dream of a different world (The Chronicles of Narnia), or thank God that I was born when I was to parents that loved me (The Color Purple - my mother was not too pleased about this one because she felt it was way too advanced for a 9 year old, and it was).

I've forgotten the names of most of the novels I read as a child, but not what they've given me. Books gave me the courage to start talking to other people and keep talking until I conquered my shyness. Books gave me a common avenue of discussion for my friends. We could go on for hours about Sweet Valley High, Elizabeth and Jessica.

Books taught me that even nerds can captivate nations (Harry Potter series), that even the most mediocre novel can become a best seller with a controversial subject (Satanic Verses), that adults are not always right (the Grounding of Group Six), that good does not always win (Will There Really Be a Morning?), to choose my employers carefully (The Devil Wears Prada), and the importance of managing my money for tomorrow (The Millionaire Next Door)

Weight Check - May 31, 2008

Current Weight: 286 pounds
This Week's Weight Loss: None
Pounds Lost To Date: None
Pounds from Goal Weight: 146 pounds

Weight loss goal for next weigh in: 6 pounds

Just for the smell of it

We have a new question for the Blogger's Blog Tour: What’s your favourite smell in the world and why?

Feel free to post your own answer in the comment box, and let me know what you think of mine.

I was born without the ability to breath through my nose. My adenoids were enlarged and blocked my breathing passage. Like most babies, I took my first breath through my mouth. Unlike most children, I kept breathing through my mouth until I was 7 years old and a doctor removed my adenoids (along with my tonsils).

The impact of not being able to breath through my nose for my formative years was quite profound. My family would comment on the wonderful smell of bread baking or the scent of the roasted turkey in the oven. I would be unable to comment. I used to try and inhale scent through my mouth. It never worked, and made me the butt of some particularly cruel taunts and pranks at school.

Mealtimes were especially bad for me; each time I took a bite and chewed I felt like I was suffocating. My parents taught me to take smaller bites so I could chew with my mouth closed, but to this day I chew as rapidly as possible due the need to get food out of my mouth. I also have to watch myself so that I don't inadvertently open my mouth.

After the surgery, a whole new world was opened for me. I could smell my grandmother cooking, and she made a mean bread pudding. For the first time, I became hungry at the smell of food. I also discovered why it's a good idea to sometimes let the bathroom air out once someone has been in there a long time.

What’s my favorite smell? Everything.

The answer is odd because, while there are certainly scents that I do not like, deep inside me lurks the little girl who did not care that the dog poo was stinky. She's just glad to be able to smell everything that the rest of the world can.

My Dream Job

I am still a week behind as I am just now getting around to posting last week's topic. Our topic for last week was our dream job.

My dream job would be to travel the world and write fiction. This combines two of the things I love the best: writing and travel.

I keep imagining that I will find a way to make the trip tax-deductible (novel set in Copenhagen, expenses written off as research).

My Bucket List

Our topic for last week was a list of things to do before I die. It's fairly ironic that it took me so long to complete this list given that I've had my bucket list together since I was 21 years old.

1) Learn how to use my digital camera. I purchased this camera over a year ago. It's actually become rather embarrassing. Also, not knowing how to use my digital camera is going to keep me from completing two other items on my bucket list.

2) Take a photograph of myself everyday and post it on my blog in a slide show. I read an article a year or so ago about a guy who took a picture of himself everyday for 17 years. He posted it in a slide show. Over the course of time, you could see how his face has changed. I would like to start on this project before the end of the year. I'll take a photo of myself everyday for 34 years to see how my face changes from age 36 to age 70. Of course, it will have to be password protected initially since this blog is supposed to be anonymous.

3) Take a photograph of some random thing in my life in my life. This was inspired by a recent article I read about a man who took a Polaroid every day for one decade. This will be a little harder for me as I'll need photos that are interesting enough to be meaningful and yet random enough for me to keep my anonymity.

4) Learn to speak the Italo-Western Romance languages fluently. I would love to learn Spanish, French, and Italian. I was fairly fluent in Spanish in high school but lost it through non-use.

5) Visit fifty countries and every continent (except Antarctica) before I die. I don't like the cold, so I will skip Antarctica, but I love to travel and want to continue my goal of visiting one country every year before I kick the bucket.

6) Become a published author. I started working on my fantasy novel last year and stopped once my father became ill. I'd like to finish this and complete two other books - a biography about my great grandfather and a biography about my grandmother.

A Pox Upon Them

I was sitting at the light this morning on my way to work when a small blue car side-swiped me to get into the left hand lane and then drove off. Unfortunately for me, there were no witnesses; or at least no one that stopped when I did.

Unfortunately for the car that hit him, I got their license plate number. A pox upon their household. Who hits someone and then just drives off? It's really very rude. It's also illegal.

No Crowding on the Back 40

I love having a compact car. I can squeeze through tight spots and fit in parking that larger behemoths have no hope of making work. What I don't like is when people with large cars park right on top of me; so closely that I cannot even open my driver's side door. I usually park in the back of the lot to avoid this very problem. Unfortunately, this does not always work.

I planned to get my car wash during lunch time. Those plans were killed once I got to the roof of the parking garage. An Expedition had parked so closely to me, that only a garter snake could have slithered in through the open driver's side door. The unfortunate fact of having a large gut (read: being fat) is that it's difficult to get into the driver's seat from the passenger side because the lack of space inside the car combined with the space I need to move my larger body makes such a feat nearly impossible. I gave up after a few failed attempts because I was afraid I would start breaking off knobs and buttons.

Boo to the driver of the SUV that ignored a plethora of empty spots to squeeze right next to me.

Two Weeks Later...It's Finally Done

My washer and dryer died one Sunday. I put a load in amd ran to the post office to mail some things. When I got back, both the dryer and the washer were through their cycles. They never ran again. Had I known my appliance would pass away while I was gone, I would have taken the time to say a fond farewell before running out to purchase more stamps.

The next day was Monday, and I said a small prayer as I traveled to the CompanyName Repair Center on my lunch break to purchase a replacement unit. The CompanyName Repair Center has a back room where slightly dented and dinged appliances are on sale for half price. Imagine my dismay when I arrived at CompanyName Repair Center to find there was hardly anything left.

You'd think with the economy being so horrid that fewer people would be purchasing appliances. Not so! There was barely anything left. My freshman year in college, we had an irritating classmate that managed to piss off the entire floor out first month there. We waited until she left for work one night and removed everything from her room. We even took the thumb tacks from the wall. The room was as bare as it was the day she moved in. That room had more stock than the CompanyName Repair Center.

Still, all I needed was one stacked washer and dryer and that is what was there. CompanyName Repair Center had one stacked washer and dryer for sale. I snapped it up with only a cursory examination, and went back to work aglow with the knowledge that my new machine would be delivered on that Wednesday and I could commence with my laundry.

Wednesday rolled around. I worked from home to wait on the delivery people. They never showed up. They did call 15 minutes before the end of my delivery window to say they good not make it; it's always nice to pass along information at the last possible minute. I made arrangements for them to come Friday.

I had the joy of working from home again on Friday - fewer interruptions - and my washer and dryer arrived, but I had to send it back. Why? What I purchased was gas, and my town home is entirely electric. For a brief second, when the delivery guys told me the problem, I tried to think of something marvelously witty to say to keep from looking like a complete idiot. I failled. I know stoves can be gas, but it never occured to me that a washer/dryer could run off gas too.

I paid the delivery fee and gave them money to take my new machine back to the store (there was a fee), and then drove over to CompanyName Repair Center to get my refund. I checked their storeroom on a whim, but the only washer/dryer in stock was the one I just returned.

I hoofed it over to a proper CompanyName store and purchased a machine for full price. Much to my dismay, there were no sales and no rebates. It was very disappointing. You'd think that with the economy tanking, CompanyName would be offering incentives. Nope! Apparently, they are still moving stock.

I discovered that when you pay out the nose for something, CompanyName is more than happy to deliver on a weekend. I scheduled a Sunday drop off.

Sunday rolled around. The guys from CompanyName arrived. They took the old machine out to the truck. They brought in my new washer/dryer, started to connect the new machine, and then all hell broke loose. The welding on the pipe gave away, and the pipe that fed water to the machine fell on the floor. The water was still on, so we all got a good spray, as did the rest of the room. I turned the water off, and made the obvious suggestion that a plumber would be in order before they could finish hooking up my new machine.

CompanyName called me to schedule a new time for the installation and suggested that, in the future, I should turn the water off. Thanks for the tip, guys! Too bad you did not tell me that before. I've done exactly one washer/dryer installation in my life. A little more upfront advice is always appreciated.

The plumber was not able to make it until the next day. I hauled my dirty clothing over to my parents' place - I was experiencing a severe shortage in clean everything - and spent the rest of the evening wash clothes and bemoaning my fate.

Fortunately, my plumber is both prompt and capable. He installed a new copper tubing, connected the washer/dryer, and called me over for a test run. We discovered that the outlet was not working. The old machine had been plugged into the 120-volt outlet. The new one used a 240-volt outlet, and this sucker looked like it had been dead for some time.

I called the electrician. He came out. It took about 3 hours for him to discover the problem and fix the issue. I was finally back in business.

Update on the Housing Situation or Why I Stepped on a Nail

The real estate agent, Patty, and I went out to my father's house this past Saturday.

In preparation for our visit, I asked for the new keys along so that we could get in. My father has a set. I also had Patty let TheLoser know that we would be there Saturday evening.

The key that was supposed to get us in the front door did not work. Fortunately, I am neither stupid nor without resources. We went around to the side of the house. TheLoser only changed the locks on the front door; I am still able to get into the house through the garage.

There was a bunch a stuff piled inside the garage in front of the door leading into the garage. I pushed and shoved and got in anyway. I noticed a strip of wood on the floor, but I did not think much of it (more on this later).

There appears to have been some damage done when TheLoser moved in as there are some holes in the walls that were not there before. I asked Patty to make a note of it and have the handyman produce a separate invoice for the repairs so that we could charge TheLoser for the damage.

I pointed out the final repairs that need to be made; there are not many. Patty took back her silk plant, which TheLoser had appropriated as his own.

We then turned off the lights and exited the home via the garage. I wondered aloud why there was a strip of wood on the floor. I stepped on it by accident, and felt a nail go clean through my shoe into my foot. If you heard any screams this past Saturday, that would have been my howls of pain.

I checked my foot; it was not that bad. There was only a little blood and I just finished the antibiotics my Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor gave me so I am not too worried about infection.

We limped over to the neighbor's house. This is the minister who lives in the property behind my father (not to be mistaken with TheLoser who is also a minister), and is interested in buying the property. We told him the house was for sale.

He is a nice man, but rather chatty. He and Patty talked a bit about Jumbo Loans and Upside Down Mortgages. We were there well over an hour because the conversation totally went onto a tangent. I am glad he is interested in the house, but my foot hurt and he kept chatting away about inane matters. I kept trying to leave and he kept cutting me off when I gave my "I'm about to be outta here," speech. Finally, I escaped. Hopefully, I was not too rude in my bid for freedom.

Scary Happenings

I encountered something Friday night while I was driving home from work that truly shocked me. I was less than a mile from my home, when I saw several boys (perhaps 5 or 6) beating up on one other young man. There were several adults standing around staring at the fight and doing abosultely nothimg.

I slowed down my car, honked my horn, and screamed that I was calling the police. That seemed to have little concern for the bullies as they just kept pounding away.

Having been the victim of several school yard pranks as well as having been tormented by the "mean girls" on several occassions, I have very little patience for bullies. Six against one is unfair and really angers me. I struggled with whether or not I should get out of my car and try to break the fight up. Unfortunately, I don't think the odds of one woman against a bunch of young teenagers are very good so I stayed in my vehicle.

I called the police who asked me eleventy million questions (although, in reality, I may have been on the phone with them two minutes or so) before they sent out a squad car. The whole thing was quite upsetting and does not give me much faith in other adults.

Next time, I'll ask

A few weeks ago, I attended a birthday party for a coworker of mine that I have become good friends with.

The party was a potluck (not something I have done since I was fresh out of college, but everyone's financial situation is different), and was held in the condominium of the birthday girl's bestfriend. People were assigned everything, and I do mean everything, to bring right down to the paper napkins and the cheesy picnic table cloth. The hostess supplied an enclosed room with a carpeted floor, electricity, running water, and not enough chairs for every butt.

The first problem came as I walked in the door. I walked the 2006 Los Angeles Marathon. The training left me with some injuries. One of which, a heel spur, makes it quite painful for me to walk in bare feet. I need to wear my orthotic insert. Most of the time, when visiting someone, I will remember to ask about this as I will not step foot in a house where I cannot keep my shoes on.

The hostess had a no shoes policy. Not only that, but I was required to remove my trouser socks (thank God that I believe in keeping my pedicure current at all times.) and put on those damn cotton things with the individual toes that I hate. Seriously, why was this even a requirement? I don't see how nylon can damage a carpet that, from the style, was installed in the early 1970s. The carpet in my town home is old too, but you do not see me demanding that people levitate across it to keeping from mussing it up.

I arrived just in time for the dreaded sales presentation. In addition to having us supply the food for her bestfriend's birthday party, the hostess (and I use this term loosely) also intended for us to fund the gift. The hard sale was on for the guests to purchase a collective amount of $x dollars in product so that the hostess would get a bonus she could then use to purchase a birthday gift for her bestfriend.

It's my pet peeve when people invite me to a party and then spring a sales presentation on me. People who cannot afford to host a party - and I am aware rising gas prices along with the declining housing market are crunching many a budget - should not throw parties. I also think that people should be upfront about what something is. If I want my friends to help fund my colored lint business, then I'll invite them over for a sales presentation to hawk my goods and not disguise it as a housewarming party.

Fortunately, I left my checkbook at home and I am not in the habit of handing my credit cards over to just anybody. As I also carry limited cash and am allergic to cheap crap, I had to politely decline the opportunity to purchase anything. This decision was met with much eye-rolling. It's as if the hostess equated spending an evening eating my own food, wearing footwear I detest, and sitting on the floor in a cramped space with a night at the Bellagio Hotel and decided to charge us accordingly. Bah!

Next year I am going to skip the party and take my friend to lunch.

Weight Check - Feb. 23, 2008

Weight Loss: 3.5
Pounds Lost To Date: -0.5 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: I think not

Ghost Hunting

In keeping with my goal to make sure I maintain fun social activities in the midst of managing my father's chaos, I went on my much anticipated Queen Mary Paranormal Ship Walk Tour this past Sunday. We were originally planning to go in January, but a bout with the flu (my first week at my new job!) took care of that. Thank goodness. The tour starts at 8:00PM and lasts 3 hours and is not available on Saturday evenings. We were scheduled to take the tour on the Sunday of a long holiday weekend. That meant no rising early for work the next day. There's nothing like rolling out of bed at o'dark hundred with only a few hours of sleep to remind me that I am no longer a spry twentysomething and need at least 7 hours of sleep to be intelligible for work the next day.

I finally remembered to take my digital camera, but there are no pictures of this tour. Why? I was trying to catch orbs, a physical manifestation of the ghostly presence, and my camera was aimed less at people and more at the area where our tour guide (a psychic) said she could sense the ghostly presence. Other people on the tour did get photos of orbs. Unfortunately, I was not successful in my attempts. Photos of rusty doors abandoned storage rooms are not nearly as exciting without an orb in them so I deleted them from my camera.

Some background on the Queen Mary and why it is known as one of the most haunted places: The Queen Mary was built in 1934 and was named for the mother of the current ruler of England, Queen Elizabeth II. It could carry a passenger load of 3,000 with a crew of 1,000. It could hold twice as many people as the Titanic.

During World War II, the Queen Mary was painted grey (the Grey Ghost) and was used during the war efforts. She carried up to 15,000 military personnel and prisoners of war during a single trip.

Other than slicing through one of the ships escorting her during the war effort, the HMS Curaçao, the Queen Mary did not see a lot of death. Our tour guide explained that many of the phenomenon that has been experienced over the years is due to psychic imprints. This is when a memory of something is left behind and will occasionally replay like a projection. It's about as ghostly as a showing of Pollyanna at the drive in movies.

However, there are known "hot spots" that are haunted by actual ghosts (there are said to be about 150 ghosts). There are even signs posted around the ship designating areas in which there have been ghostly sightings. It's these areas we visited on the Queen Mary Paranormal Ship Walk Tour.

Our first stop was at Cabin B340, which is haunted cabin on the ship. It is said to be haunted by a murdered purser, and is a spot of poltergeist activity. As such, guests are no longer allowed to stay on here. It's one thing to spend the night a room that is haunted. It's another to be rudely pulled from the bed and knocked about.

Our guide gave us the spiel about the room. We turned the lights off, and we waited. Nothing happened and I did not feel anything particularly supernatural. Neither did our tour guide or anyone else in the group.

Our next stop was Boson’s Locker, which is several feet below sea level. Boson’s Locker is the site where the Queen Mary once sliced through the HMS Curaçao. The Queen Mary was not permitted to stop for survivors, and the 348 men onboard the HMS Curaçao drowned.

The path to Boson’s Locker is quite creepy. It's rather dark - you are encouraged to bring flashlights for this part of the journey - and you go down several flights of stairs through old storage areas to get down to Boson’s Locker. This area is way below deck. Anything you hear down here (e.g. footsteps, pounding) is not going to be someone from the living world because you're too deep below deck for that.

Once again we turned off the lights. This time, our tour guide felt more than one presence. A female nurse and a male. There was also lots of knocking, which would be the ghosts of the sailors of the HMS Curaçao pounding on the ship to get in. Several women felt something brush up against. My mother was among a few that saw a strange light. Lot's of people got pictures of orbs.

I saw nothing and felt nothing except a strong urge to run my finger across my stepfather's cheek while we were sitting still with the lights off to see if I could fool him into thinking it was ghost. I also got no orbs in my photos. Pity.

After Boson’s Locker, we went to the First Class Swimming Pool and the Dressing Rooms. The history of this area is funny because both first class and third class used the same swimming pool, but not at the same time (second class had their own pool). After third class finished, the water was drained, the pool scrubbed down, and then was refilled so that first class passengers would not get third class cooties.

The First Class Swimming Pool is reportedly haunted by the ghosts of two women who drowned there. People have reported the sounds of splashing (there is no water in the pool) and have seen wet footprints leading from the deck to the changing rooms. People have also reported seeing the ghost of a young girl, Jackie, who drowned in the pool during the ship’s sailing days.

When we walked into the First Class Swimming Pool, there was doll in a red dress sitting near some shelves. People bring toys for Jackie to play with; the doll belongs to her.

We split into two groups because there were too many people for everyone on the tour to visit the Dressing Rooms at once. One couple walked into a storage room and ran out screaming when some metal railing in the room started rattling with no one nearby. They were quite shaken.

Once the first group to visit the changing rooms came out, we told this story and they went running off to investigate. They also noticed that the doll was gone. A quick investigation uncovered that no one had taken the doll - or would confess to taking it - despite dire warnings about karma and the tackiness of stealing from a child (even a dead one).

The changing rooms near the pool are the source of negative feelings detected by numerous psychics. You're supposed to go into a stall (the doors have been removed) and have a seat while they turn the lights off. Coward that I am, I decided to squeeze into a stall with my mother (yes, I know I am lame) and hold her hand.

The changing room is not considered an actual haunting. Our guide referred to it as a vortex, and said that there are rumors that it contains some type of doorway into another reality. Apparently, it also allows ghosts to move from one area to another. The room is very dark, even with the lights on, despite the fact that it's painted bright white.

We did not get an explanation of what caused this vortex, but people have reported seeing the outline of a male and female ghost as well as shadow shapes (dark patches in vaguely humanoid form moving through the darkness). The only dark shapes I saw were of the other people on tour. I did not see or feel anything in the changing room, but I did realize that this would be a good place to hide and jump out at someone if one were so inclined.

After we came out of the changing room, we walked up to the second level of the pool to make our way to our final destination. That's where we came across the missing doll. It was on the floor in the corner, as if someone had dropped it while running.

Our last stop was to the engine room. This room is haunted by one of the famous ghosts on the Queen Mary, John Pedder. John was quite the practical joker, and it is this trait that lead to his death at the young age of 18 back in 1966. He was crushed to death playing chicken by a watertight door during a routine drill in 1966.

His bearded, coverall-wearing spirit is seen often near the door, walking through the adjacent corridors. There is lots of knocking on the walls, flickering lights, and the sound of an elevator running. There certainly is a working elevator, but it was not in use during the tour. It also ran for a lot longer than one would expect it to take an elevator to go up three floors.

The tour was enjoyable even though I experienced minimal psychic phenomenon. I am thinking of going back for GhostFest if I can get anyone to go with me. There are way more haunted areas aboard the Queen Mary than the few spots we visited, and this is exactly my kind of fun.

Sharper than a serphents tooth...

What started off as a promising day ended so badly.

On Saturday, I took the 2007 tax paperwork for myself and my father to my accountant. My taxes were, as usual, done in no time flat because I am a anal retentive nerd and I keep my records current all year long.

After a long conversation with the accountant, we filed the taxes for 2007 for my father with an extension and I left the office determined to get the documents I needed to complete his taxes for 2005 and 2006.

I then ran my other errands and then stopped my father's house to make a note of the final repairs that needed to be done before the house was ready to sale.

The home was filled - and I do mean full - with furniture. There was clothing and appliances and sheets and towels and lots of furniture.

Imagine my shock in entering a house that I had worked so hard to clear out only to find it full again. For a second, I thought that I stepped into a time warp and found myself in the past. Then I actually looked at the stuff and noticed it's a lot better quality than anything my dad ever had and realized I was still in the present.

Imagine my further surprise when I checked the locks, and found that they were all secured. The keys were recently changed and I had not yet dropped off the new set to my father. I had no idea how this stuff got into the house.

I walked outside (I had no idea whether some random person would be entering the house) and called my father. It turns out his friend, Gary, wants to purchase the house and moved right in despite the fact that the house has not gone on the market and that I have not finished clearing it out.

The stupidity in selling a home not to the highest bidder but the only bidder is staggering. Not to mention it makes it infinitely more difficult for me to clear the house out when I have to work my already crowded schedule around a tenant.

I decided that this, added to the long list of other problems, is reason enough to rescend the power of attorney and let my father wallow in the storm of drama that he seems to enjoy so well.

Weight Check - Feb. 16, 2008

Weight Loss: None (I gained four pounds)
Pounds Lost To Date: -1.5 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: I think not

That’s Why I’ll Use Gloves from Now On

It's amazing to me that, despite having no children, I still am not able to set aside enough time over a weekend to take in a movie.

This past Saturday I had an early appointment with my housekeeper, Anica, to take her out to my father's home to have her sort through the last of his belongings remaining in the house and have her clean it in preparation for the home going on the market.

I had been hoarding boxes for the better part of a year like some crazy old woman stockpiling on catnip and kitty litter. Both the trunk of my car and part of the backseat where piled high. This should have been okay as it was going to be Anica, her "assistant" and I. So of course, when I pick her up, she has another person with her. This forces me to turn back around, drop the boxes off in my garage, and go back to pick everyone.

Fortunately, both the realtor and the locksmith were running late too; I met them at the house on time.

After the locksmith has changed the locks, I went back home to get the boxes. I made a stop at the car wash on the way back; I refuse to drive a car that is dirty. I have friends with cars that are so filthy, one could practically grow tomatoes on the roof.

When I get back to the house, Anica stammers that they found a snake in the garage. The conversation goes something like this:

Anica: There was a snake in the garage.
My eyes open wide.
Me: My nephew kept a boa constrictor in an aquarium in the garage. He was supposed to get rid of it. Are you saying it's still in there?
Anica: Yes.

Me: In the aquarium? Wow, it really is junky in the garage. I did not even see it. I'll call animal control to see if they will come get in.
Anica: No. It's in a pillowcase.
Me: Alive!! My God was it roaming free in the garage!?! This is not Animal Planet. I am so sorry.
Anica: No, It is dead.
Me: Errrr...where was it?
Anica: In the pillowcase. We reached in the pillowcase to see what was inside. We found the snake.

Anica: It stinks.

Me: Eeeew! I am so very sorry. Thank you for putting it in the pillowcase.
Anica: It's been dead a while.
Note: I evicted my nephew at the end of December. It is now February.
Me: Ummm...I'll find out how one gets rid of a snake, outside of digging a hole in the backyard and burying it.

A lot of investigation work and a few hours later, I have determined that the snake can be thrown in the dumpster which is arriving in a few days. It was, indeed, the property of my nephew who was holding it for a "friend." No explanation has been given for how this friend was supposed to Houdini himself into a locked house and remove the snake.

My brother thinks I should drive out to Westminster, hurl the snake over my head as if I am Anya Major throwing a sledgehammer in the famous 1984 commercial by Apple, and try to throw it so that it wraps around my nephew's head. I think he has highly over estimated my throwing ability as well as my psychological stamina. There is a reason I asked Alicia to double bag the snake in a Hefty Steel Sack bag and throw it away in the dumpster. I am not touching it.

Obviously, my housekeeper and her friends are getting a rather large tip when I pay them. This is in addition to the profuse apologies I already gave them.

Background Noise

Ages ago, I sent my cousin, Bradford, a happy birthday e-Mail. He and I had not communicated in a while, but I wanted him to know that I still wished him well. The next day I got the terse reply, "Fuck You."

There is about a 12 to 14 year difference between Bradford and I. It would certainly be fair to say that there is a generational gap. However, I don't think there was ever a time when it was appropriate to respond to a perfectly polite e-Mail with vulgarity. I will admit to being a little hurt at first, as well as confused. Was his reply a critique of the poem that I had selected or the font? Perhaps he resented the fact that I communicated with black font as opposed to something more multi-cultural?

Regardless, his message, while blunt, was certainly clear. I immediately set up a rule to send all future e-Mail messages from him to my trash can, and forwarded his e-Mail on to my best friend as an example of why I avoid most family functions.

I received an e-Mail from another cousin, Terri, a few days ago. Bradford is in jail on drug-related violations (prescription medications). His spending time in prison is a certainty. Only the length of the sentence is in question.
I am sorry that my bright, young cousin has gone down the same path of addiction that took his father away from our family. Knowing that he did not kick his drug habit after all definitely puts his earlier e-Mail into perspective.

Weight Check

Weight Loss: 2.5 pounds (hurrah!)
Pounds Lost To Date: 2.5 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: I think not

Life Lesson

Life Lesson: The reason old people are so evil? It’s because we are granted a certain amount of patience over the course of our lifetime. By a certain age, we’ve used all our patience up.

This is an old story, but I am using it for the Life Lesson for my first blog post.

My father granted me Power of Attorney yesterday so I could begin putting his affairs in order. One of my first tasks was to collapse his multiple accounts and different banks into one checking account and one savings account.

I can only visit the bank on Saturday s until my contract with is up. Thus, it took me two weeks to take care of this simple task.

To be fair, I did visit the last bank later in the day. Why? I had to drop my father’s car off to get an estimate of the cost of repairing the damage (Please, God, let me find the auto insurance information soon) and visit another bank first.

I arrived at Trifling Bank about an hour before closing. This bank has no on working at the desks. I waited in line for the teller and introduced myself. I showed her the Power of Attorney document, my ID, and my father’s ID.

The teller had never before seen a Power of Attorney document, and implied it was something I made up for nefarious purposes (note: my father and I have the same last name). Okay. I am patient because she appears to be in her early twenties. Lord knows that banks do not train their employees and she’s rather young to have encountered this issue in her own family.

I ask for a manager. The teller leaves. After about a twenty minute wait, the manager comes back and says she cannot help me. I will have to come back during the week once they have had a chance to view the Power of Attorney document with their lawyers. Why?

The manager has never heard of a Power of Attorney document either. She does not know what powers it grants me. Hello!?! You are a bank manager and you have never heard of a Power of Attorney? Could you be any more incompetent?

Fortunately, I had the bright idea to visit another branch of Trifling Bank the next weekend. This one was staffed by an intelligent teller and manager that were able to help me.

I ended up closing my father’s account at Trifling Bank with his blessing; neither one of us believe in supporting the stupid. I sent Trifling Bank a long letter detailing my unhappiness and why.

It should come as no surprise that I never got a response.