Vacation Good, Bad and Ugly

HELLO!!! (waving hand frantically, in hopes that someone is out there)

I'm back! Did you miss me? Did you notice I was gone?

It seems like it's been forever since I've clicked on "new post" around here, but I guess that's what vacation will do to you. Given the state of the Lewis family computer (half-broke) and both Lewis family cameras (also half-broke), I wasn't able to do my usual trip play-by-play for the blogosphere, but rest assured, we did indeed go on vacation.

Last Sunday we scooted out of town and headed for Asheville, North Carolina. I had never been there before, and I can give it an only slightly qualified thumbs up. The thumbs up is due to lots and lots of fabulous restaurants, really cool shopping (if I were an "alternative smoker" I would have found lots of shops for my "alternative smoking" needs, if you get my drift, wink, wink), and a serious micro-brew beer scene. The slight qualification comes from the fact that I was TOTALLY a crime victim while in this town.

Yep, my wallet was "lifted," as they say. I was a might peeved (read: fucking pissed off), and even more so as the charges started to roll in on my checking account. I am quite the considerate crime victim, as my wallet was full of the following: my checkbook, a check written from Todd to me, my debit card, two credit cards, my driver's license, and my social security card. Not to mention my Qdoba card, which entitles me to a free chips and salsa on my next visit.

We got stuff mostly taken care of, meaning the bank and both credit cards have refunded all the money that was spent. Oddly enough, a detective called me before we got home on Saturday, and said that the wallet itself had been recovered, so it's being mailed back to me and I'm hoping my ID is in there. Even odder -- today, in the mail, I received my checkbook, stamped "found loose in mail." Weird, huh?

So, anyway, we left Asheville for less crime-ridden pastures of Bryson City, where Todd did a lot of fishing, and I did a lot of loafing around the little town.

And for those of you wondering what crazy thing Todd got me to try this time, I have three words for you: white water rafting. Yeah. All I can say is, I did it, and the fact that I cried for the first two miles doesn't discount that fact in the slightest. I did it, and I don't ever have to do it again.

And You Thought Finding a PENNY Was Good Luck

Once again, I am starting a week with the resolution to be nicer to people. Mostly to random people . . . OK, to criminals. Criminals are people, too, right? So I should be nice and kind to them, right? Well, that's what I tell myself all the time.

This dude comes up to me yesterday with a charge of Possession of Marijuana -- not the most exciting crime in the world, and really, for how easy we are on that crime, we should all be out smoking a big ol' doobie on our lunch hour, because we can all totally afford a $25 fine and court costs, and hey, marijuana might just make us all nicer to other people, thus obviating the need for be-nicer-to-people resolutions.

So I offer dude his fine and costs, and he says to me, "I don't think I'm guilty."

Fine. In the interest of being nicer, I will not point out how your not THINKING you are guilty wastes my time, when you in fact ARE guilty. I will instead say, "Okay, today is your arraignment and we will enter a plea of not guilty for you and set your case for a pretrial conference."

Dude: "Well, see, I found it."

Me: "Found it?"

Dude: "Yeah, I was just walking down the street, and I found it. Somebody else's pot, just laying there, so I picked it up and then right after that I got arrested. I just found it."

Now, this, as we all know, is a lie. Seriously, raise your hand if you believe this dude.

That's what I thought. But, instead of pointing this out, I nodded sympathetically, sighed dramatically, and said to Dude, "I know. Happens to me ALL THE TIME."

Ten minutes later, Dude comes back up to me and says, "You know that fine? I think I'll just take that. It'll be easier. Even though I JUST FOUND IT."

I didn't even hit him. I just said, "You know . . . that's actually NEVER happened to me."

Dude: "Yeah, I know."

101 Things: the First 100 Days

I had considered blogging about each of my 101 Things as I mark them off the list, but in the interest of not being totally dull, I decided to just do a big update every 100 days . . . so, here's update #1:

"Things" I completed in the past 100 days:
Finish writing my list of 101 things. Yeah, this one's pretty self-explanatory.

Take a sewing class. This was a big success. I took a simple four-week introductory sewing class, but it really helped to get me over the hump of feeling like I didn't know what I was doing, to sitting down at the machine and sewing anyway. It's a hobby that I really want to keep up with and hopefully someday, be good at. I've discovered that unlike knitting, sewing is an activity that can keep me engrossed for hours at a time, and sometimes a whole day.

Go to the planetarium. I used this as the first activity that Todd went along with Little and I, and it was big fun. We saw the very educational show about the planets (in which they STILL talk about Pluto, thank goodness -- poor, poor downgraded Pluto), then the not-educational-at-all-but-more-fun laser show. I liked it tremendously and hope to go back for some more shows.

Go to Shakespeare in the Park. This year our local Shakespeare company did a version of Julius Ceasar in which they dressed as samauri dudes, but didn't change the original dialogue at all. Quite honestly, if this hadn't been on my list, I would have skipped it, because that sounded just dumb to me. It turned out to be quite the opposite, in fact was one of the best productions I have seen our company do.

Learn to use liquid eyeliner. What a bust. I discovered that purple eyeliner looks fabulous on me, but also discovered that liquid eyeliner is LIQUID and therefore must DRY before you can do crazy things like, oh, I don't know . . . BLINK! I have happily gone back to my Cover Girl self-sharpening pencil.

Wear black fingernail polish. I loved it a lot, but then I started violin lessons, and have to keep my fingernails too short now for the black polish.

Go to a Red's game. We had a good time at this one (two-hour rain delay notwithstanding), but it mostly gave me a better appreciation for our little local team and stadium. At the Riverbats, it's a LOT cheaper; parking is easier; beer is better.

Give someone a homemade present of food. After Penny got a wild hair and broke into the neighbor's yard two days in a row, I think the homemade banana jam helped to smooth things over. It's fun when people are surprised that you can make something yourself.

Give something to someone who needs it. We needed to get rid of some furniture in the garage, and Little's cousin, Littler, needed a new dresser. It was a win-win.

Some of the Things for the next 100 days are already in the works. I've started violin lessons, made a bit of progress in the "It" dress, and have completed the registration forms for my State Fair entries. I also have taken two of the three yoga classes, have done the first half of the mint julep liqeur process, and lost the first two of the first ten pounds. (I also gained them back, but I'm calling that a minor setback.)

I know it's been a long time since my last post, and posting may still be a bit sparse for the next few weeks. Our laptop is on the fritz, and the old dinosaur computer is so slow that posting isn't as much fun as it could be.

What I'm Thinking About Wednesday

Went to my second yoga class . . . yeeowch! My poor legs are desperately trying to figure out what they've done to be punished so.

Cooked this for dinner tonight and it was delish -- really, tofu is fantastic when cooked correctly. You should try it. Come on, don't be a hater. Plus, having tofu for dinner means you can also have this, made with fresh blueberries and frozen strawberries from the dad's patch. Also delish.

You can SO be a hater when it comes to James Dobson. I suffer no qualms from emphatically EXcluding him from . . . well, whatever I can exclude him from. Narrow-minded git.

I hope someone else out there is as excited about all those little (well, not really so little) Earth-like planets out there as I am. E.T., phone home, already, dude! We've missed you!

See, Reverand Roper? I WAS Listening.

Yesterday, my minister spoke on the problems of an "either/or" society. He talked about how people are always shoved into a group, either you're black or white, or Democrat or Republican, Voldemort or Harry, etc., etc. It was a pretty good sermon, I thought, one that pleased li'l ol' liberal me but also made me think about my own divisions, like "either you're liberal or you're Satan."

I probably shouldn't think like that. In fact, I'm wondering if my minister has been listening in on my thoughts and directed that sermon directly at me.

Come on, you know I don't REALLY think non-liberals are Satan, don't you? I mean, you read that post down there about my great dad, who is decidedly non-liberal, right? I'm inclusive, aren't I?

(I know at least one person doesn't think I'm very inclusive. But that dude was SUCH an annoying defendant, and he drove everyone crazy in court today, not just me, and anyway, I refuse to believe that I am an "oppresser" who is going to hell, like he said. At least not for oppressing, anyway . . . but I digress.)

So, today, I overheard a co-worker on the phone (paper-thin cubicle walls, you know), and her side of the conversation went something like this:

"So, honey, I was wondering, did you call the coach to add Little Billy (names changed to protect the innocent) to the roster? . . . Oh, good, because I happened to think, you can't do that. . . . Well, because he's not Catholic. . . . I know, they ATTENDED, but he was never BAPTIZED, and I just don't think we should even GO there. . . . Well, I'm glad I caught you before you opened that can of worms."

Huh. I suppose we should all be grateful that the trauma of some heathen non-baptised kid playing summer ball with good little Catholic kids was avoided. I mean, really, would you want to GO THERE?

I didn't think so.

Inclusivity's a bitch.

I'm Writing This in a Lotus Position

In keeping with the plan of my 101 things in 1001 days, I attended my first ever Yoga class this week.

In an oh-so-fortuituous move, my YMCA added to its current lineup of Yoga I and Power Yoga a new class, Remedial Yoga for Dummies. (Okay, they call it Yoga Foundations, or something boring like that, but we all know it's Remedial Yoga for Dummies.)

I was pretty stoked when I walked into a dimly-lit room with new-agey music playing, and the instructor informed us that this was OUR yoga practice, that the next 45 minutes were OURS, and ordered us to let go of the stresses of the day . . . cool. From there, though, while I was still waiting for someone to come along and offer me a pedicure, and a nice cup of tea with milk, and oh, while we're at it, some dessert, she calmly demonstrated the downward dog, told us to try it, and FORGOT ABOUT US.

I am not kidding. That yoga instructor went outside, had HER pedicure and dessert, then a post-pedicure cigarette, and I swear, she may have had a not-so-quickie, all while I was still hanging upside down in a damn downward dog. SERIOUSLY, it was at least an hour. Maybe two.

Then. Then, she calmly instructs us to raise our right leg up behind our heads, then SWING it through the middle, place our knee directly below our right hand, our ankle directly below our left hand, then LAY DOWN on top of our poor right leg, which had never, ever done anything to deserve such an indignity.

I tell you what, I had never considered doing such a thing with my right leg before. And I was completely astonished (did I tell you that astonished is my new favorite word? because it is, for some reason) that my leg would do such a thing.

Well, sort of. While my legs were pretty okay with being raised up behind my head, and actually pretty excited about the whole make-like-a-pretzel endeavor, the SWINGING through the middle was more of a flop it down underneath, then use both hands to haul it through the middle and prod it into place.

Let's not even mention the whole "shoulder stand" episode, which was much less like something I remember from my cheerleading days, and more like a try-out for Cirque du Soleil.

Namaste, indeed.

Happy Day-After Father's Day

Yesterday, for Father's Day, Todd and I hosted the WHOLE group of people we consider family at a backyard cookout. It was busy and hot, and fun and exhausting.

Every time I find myself shopping for a Father's Day card, I feel a bit envious of the easy relationship that is portrayed on those cards. That Hallmark-y, starry-eyed, he's-the-first-man-I-ever-wanted-to-marry-and-he-taught-me-how-to-fish-and-hit-a-softball kind of relationship.

Because I don't know about you and your father, but that's not the kind of relationship I have with my father.

My father and I disagree on a bunch of stuff; big things like politics and religion and politics and life goals and oh, yeah, politics. But I have a tremendous amount of love respect for him. Where he has ended up is so far from where he started that it's astonishing. That journey has made him a man who just brims over with love and kindness and a generosity the likes of which I have never seen in anyone else. And while his is not the life I have chosen for myself, it's nice to get to be a tourist into it once in awhile, and invite him into mine on occasion.

That he loves me unconditionally, I have never questioned. And isn't that truly, at the heart of things, what makes a man a father?

To me, a real father-daughter relationship doesn't make for a very good Hallmark card: too many sharp edges, and corners you don't look at too closely, and fuzzy bits, and sentiments that don't fit into a neat rhyme.

But it's real. And it's better. And really, when I think about it, I'm not THAT envious of the Hallmark fathers and daughters. Softball was just never my thing, anyway.