Going Budget

There needs to be a new adjective for "cheap" because in an economy that is having amnesia on what the dollar should to be worth, pretty much everyone is downright cheap. My word for this is "budget". The adjective version not the noun. Here are the ways I go budget when I go out.

Groupon. The only way to explore a new activity, salon, or yoga studio you've been wanting to check out. Although, you do run the risk of being referred to as the "groupon girl" by the receptionist when you arrive for your facial. Ehh, I've been called worse.

Goldstar.com. An excellent source for discounted tix in your area. Just subscribe to the weekly emails and you'll be amazed by the great deals that magically appear in your inbox every Tuesday.

Restaurant.com. You pay $10 for a $25 gift certificate at local restaurants through this website (minimum purchase applies, read all fine print). It's a savings of $15 unless you're super budget like me and you subscribe to the emails for a weekly promo code. VOILA... 70-80% savings makes it only 2-3 bucks for a $25 gift certifcate! You're welcome.

Walmart. Eeek, nothing says bottom-feeder like this place but if you can get past the creepy clientele, it's all worthwhile once you're at the register and realize how much you saved. Not to mention all the free entertainment roaming the aisles.

Coupon clippings. This is California not the Midwest, so "extreme couponing" is out, BUT the art of coupon clipping is still very IN. Take my latest score in the sunday paper for $3 off Iams catfood. Apply that $3 to Iams at Walmart and you just made your momma proud!

On budget travel... travelocity is so 2001. yes I know there are a bazillion search engines to find good hotel rates, but the AAA website has never let me down. You don't even have to be a AAA member for most of the deals. Just by booking through the website (www.csaa.com) you can still get the AAA rate at most hotels. Sweet, right?

See? Just because you go budget everywhere doesn't mean you can't get out and try new places. Plus you'll have more money in your pocket to put into savings - conveniently named - for a well-earned vacation!

Got any other tips on how to go budget in this economy?

p.s. In case you're wondering about the blog name change, after 3 years of writing, I decided to update the name to more accurately reflect ME. Davina Defined. Simple and straight-forward. Thanks for reading!

Solemates

I have had this argument before and will probably lose again someday but it's worth repeating.

Women's shoes were designed by a man. It's only obvious because they have a way of making you feel great about yourself and yet can cause serious pain at the same time. Some shoes are like that first crush you had in grade school that you adored right up until they pulled down your pants in front of everyone, exposing your Tuesday underwear. And it was NOT Tuesday, it was in fact Wednesday. True story. But no this post is not about relationships, or my repressed memories, but rather, shoes!

As long as I've been short, which is my entire life, I've always been trying to be taller. Even when I was too little for heels I was wearing them anyway. When I was 7, I insisted on wearing my sister's heels out to her 16th birthday dinner. I stuffed socks in the front so my feet halfway fit and I could try to pull off my dress with 2-inch light pink pumps. It didn't take long to realize how ridiculous I looked when the servers in the restaurant were chuckling to themselves at my sad attempt to be fashionable and taller. Maybe that's why I need several pairs of shoes these days to make sure I always have the right heel and the right color for my outfit of choice. Or maybe I am just like every other woman who opts for the big heels. Because I can.



I will never forget a conversation I had with my mom once about her dancing days in her 20s. When I visited her I would show off my shoes and show her pics of my latest adventures and hot outfits. One time she shook her head and said 'Those were the days! I remember being able to wear shoes like that... enjoy it while you can cause one day you won't be able to. But at least you can look back and say DAMN I looked good!'  We laughed but I still think of that when I see a pair of heels I absolutely love. Something fun and 4-5 inches high. Maybe I don't have an outfit yet for them but when i do... DAMN I'll look good!

  

holy hotness

My latest predicament has been moving downtown and within walking distance to Old Sacramento, the Capitol, and umpteen million bars and restaurants. The key words being "walking-distance".  I really haven't lived anywhere that would require more than 5 blocks of walking to and from and anything further I would just drive. Downtown Sacramento however is wide and spread out. Yes there are clumps of good places but there is no main drag where everything you want is located together. It's about a mile walk from home to one cluster, a half mile to the next cluster, half mile to the next, and a mile home. While a mile is just a mile, it's also 5,280 feet, or in DivineENVE terms approximately 2,000 steps. There in lies the problem. No one, not even Carrie Bradshaw herself can walk 4,000 steps roundtrip in heels. Platform wedges, maybe, a short boot, flip flops, ballet flats even. But not a heel.  Case in point.

 

Carrie TV

Carrie real life

Anyway, the flatter alternatives got old really quick when I realized after so many years in heels my feet don't like flats. I don't like feeling the entire surface of my foot on hard pavement. My arch doesn't like having to brace itself, or my toes cling to flip flops I feel like I'm going to walk right out of. The boot does okay but doesn't look quite right in shorts and a tank. This is Sacramento, not the South. Lastly, I don't like flats because it's like announcing to the world I've been lying about not being 5'7" but a sad little 5'4" this whole time! Oh the horror!!!

Well last weekend I broke down and bought some reasonable flats. Something that I could pull off with jeans and a tank top, shorts, or even workout pants so I can look like I'm either on the way to/from the gym when really i just want to be lazy comfortable. I opted for these.

Black pumas

At first they felt about as foreign as moonboots... the Neil Armstrong version not the 80s version. My arch didn't know what to do, but instantly I enjoyed the springy feeling of walking! I lasted the whole day and a bike ride later but my feet didn't let me forget about their contempt of the flat shoe. The middle of my foot ached by the end of the day when I gladly redeemed a foot massage by my boyfriend who took pity on my poor paws.

When it comes to women's shoes, it's all about what you feel best in. I for one feel most confident in a cute heel. They give me the appearance of longer looking legs, a better butt, and reinforce that womanly sway that apparently I've had since I was in diapers. While I may be more practical in my shoe choice these days, I know I will be that woman wearing heels until the day I no longer can. And by no longer I mean by the time my feet start looking like a ped egg commercial because I will not be wearing socks with my sandals. Or those clog looking things. Or anything with velcro. And don't even get me started on crocs.

I have discovered one thing to make my highest heels more bearable though and that is the sticky gel pads and grip stickers (available at DSW) because men's invention of these types of shoes don't always come with the most logical feature - traction. I'm sure there's a joke in here about men's aversion to things that stick, cling, or otherwise chafe. Hmm. I think I'll leave that one alone. 

Resurfaced

Well now that sounds like I got a face lift.  No lift, same face, just a few more wrinkles and a lot more freckles than the last time you saw me.

I recognize that I haven't written a blog post in some time, but most people who are followers here know that I've been dealt a DOOSEY of a 2011 so far. In fact, my whirlwind starting Dec 22, 2010 when I was rear-ended by a teenager and suffered a herniated disc in my neck. Subsequently stopped working out to risk further injury. My biological mom passed away on January 10. Causes were undetermined, but we believe she passed from complications from pneumonia and 25 years of very bad treatment of her body. She was 57. I retreated into a depression after discovering that the world does NOT stop while you're grieving. I still went to work (most of the time), saw my therapist (okay once), and generally felt overwhelmed (all of the time).

My job transferred me to a land far far away. Unrelated to any missed workdays on my part, they actually closed our office and split us three ways. I got the 30-mile commute, but nifty perks like my own office and a fresh new start.

I moved in together with my boyfriend. I haven't written much about him here, but since he doesn't read this thing anyway, it can be our dirty little secret. He is my missing puzzle piece. We click, laugh all the time, fight like two retarded people who are terrified of losing each other. It's funny in a non-humorous sort of way. What's the word for that? Oh yeah, relationship. But, our saving grace is that we really do enjoy each other. We aren't that lame couple who finishes each others sentences or make the world vomit from the baby talk. I actually try not to be one of those annoying "we" talkers... "we" don't watch american idol. I watch american idol and he tolerates it. comprende?

As I resurface from my post-mother's day 2011 funk, 12 pounds heavier, though mostly adjusted by now to all of my new circumstances. I accept that life does not always go the way you want it, but there is still a lot to be grateful for, such as still having the time to do what you want while you still can. I am developing some new goals, and I know it would probably be a good idea to get back into the gym while I still have some 2009-2010 muscle left. But I am not in a huge hurry to change myself for the future because today, I have a strong, healthy body, and a more positive attitude. What else could I possibly need? Well, an adorable new pair of shoes couldn't hurt!

Dreams

I dreamt of you.

The family had come together and we were celebrating your life.  You were there in the flesh, though your soul had already moved on.  You sat in silence, listening to our stories, you were not afraid. You were strong, poised as usual, as each of us said goodbye to you in our own way, made peace with the past, and hugged you. I remember your hands.

You listened contently to my father’s speech. He quoted scripture about Jesus and water symbolizing re-birth. He trailed off, and I thought of my own loss again. My heart ached. My cousin rested her head on my shoulder as we listened to the stories of celebration. I knew she was hurting as she breathed a deep sigh, releasing the weight of the past.  My brother-in-law led us in prayer, as the room wrapped its arms around my Auntie, I knew it was time to say goodbye. I looked out the window to the reflection of the sunset on the water, the warm breeze comforting my worries, Hawaii’s shore calling her home. 

We walked down the long white pathway leading down to the water.  Women lay purple flowers at our feet, their sunkissed arms outstretched, their beautiful smiles welcoming us.  My eldest cousin rode a bike down the pathway, my Auntie reclining in a chair hitched to the bike. Her hair blew in the wind. She sat behind the strength of her daughter, whose strong legs powered the bike towards the water, leading her mom. My heart cried, overwhelmed. I clutched my mom Yaja, weakened by the loss of another family member.  I cried for her though her cheeks stayed dry.  She looked to the water, and peace overcame us, as my Auntie went willingly to her final resting place.

 I awoke that Saturday in a wash of emotion, it’s not often I’m given a gift of a dream involving death that fills me with so much peace.  I thought back and wondered if when we die, if our soul (or our consciousness rather) goes before our bodies, do we still get to dream? Do we get to choose a place where we go, with our families and loved ones, where we can hear their final words and feel their embraces all the way up till we finally let go?   What little I knew about my Auntie, I was sure she loved the beach, the sun, Hawaii, her kids.  I accepted this dream as possibility, and even reassurance, that my Auntie went in peace that day as she had in my dream.    

I think of my mom Virginia, and wonder if by going in her sleep if she also died in her dreams.  What did she dream of? Did she dream of me and my brothers as she let go to her final resting place. Was it also in water?  Did she dip her feet in the ocean, feel the sand in her toes one last time?  Did she hear her father calling her home?  As we spread her ashes that sunny day at the San Francisco Bay, I figured if there were any time I could be sure she was there with us, it would be right then, if only for a moment.  I hold onto that moment, every day.  It’s not goodbye, anymore than a farewell celebration means you’ll never see them again.  It's more a parting, as she moves from one form to another, from this life to an eternal life.  I will see her again, someday. In the meantime I look forward to seeing her in my dreams.

On New Years Resolutions

Think whatever you want about new years resolutions, they help people take a stand to make a change in their lives, to re-route their course, to take advantage of the end of another year to start things off on a better foot.
We as humans have that innate desire to improve our lives. To go farther, to make more, to have more, and in that abundance enjoy life and all that we have to show for our hard work.  

My new years resolution is to continue my self-improvement that I started late 2009 in my constant effort to be the best version of myself so that what I have to show for my life's effort is not defined in one accomplishment or moment, but a long story full of love, joy, passion, laughter, and strength. We should live so that the story we leave behind is long and happy and memorable to those who have known us. And whether we choose to focus ourselves to live that way every day or re-focus ourselves on January 1st is our choice. What will you choose?

Sent from my iPhone

Pre-holiday post

Just like most professionals, I live my life in workweeks.

52 weeks in a year... 26 paychecks

3 weeks of vacation a year and subsequent dent in said paychecks.

One week till thanksgiving.

5 weeks till christmas.

Wait... one week till thanksgiving? why do I feel blindsided by it this year? Truthfully, I have felt an unusual amount of anxiety this year about the holidays, which may be why I can't seem to gear up like i usually do. I was expecting as usual to be excited about my black friday shopping, but then realized i don't have anything I want/need, or really have anyone to buy for except my nieces & nephews. even the prospect of getting a small christmas tree w/ my boyfriend has left me with little wind in my sails.

Last year thanksgiving was a difficult week for me, after which I was able to take an extended trip out to be with my friends and family to rejuvenate. January we had an unexpected death and then more rejuvenation. I  realize the older i get, the more I depend on my family to keep me grounded. Family afterall, is the one constant in our lives. They may not be perfect people but they always know what to say to make it better or when to not say anything and just listen. They ride the rollercoasters of our lives with us and pay the ticket with their love and sacrifice. Family are the ones who are like the rare breed of friend who always chooses you even when you turn your back on them.

I have really enjoyed introducing my family to my boyfriend...and believe me, he's met nearly the ENTIRE family...even the crazy ones (we all have those one or two crazies)...but we love them because they are still a part of us, a thread in the fabric that binds us together.

But more than this, my family is a projection of myself. We love music, we dance, we laugh, we yell, and cry. we did all this at my cousin Victoria's quinceañera. We make fun of each other (playfully, of course), we celebrate our victories, we rally around our favorite teams. We love wholeheartedly.

I thought I might need some kind of energy boost, or even a session with my therapist to get me out of my pre-holiday funk. But the truth is, I really just need time with those I love, who know me the best. Some family time, some laughter, and some good food will cure all. As for the turkey coma... that's another story.

My doctor, the sadist.

Around the time I was 24 I was diagnosed with hypertension. That's high blood pressure for those of you under 65. Since that moment I've been taking medication to lower said blood pressure to the regular 120 over 80 that you all walk around with.

At the time, though, I was fairly healthy so it seemed abnormal for me have high blood pressure so they put me through all the rigorous tests, threw scary terms like graves' disease at me, put me through kidney ultrasounds and retinal scans, all to come back with the cause being nothing more than genes. At the time I wasn't really physically active having settled into my desk job. I mean it was a lot more fun to hang out w/ friends after work and eat and drink beer than workout (imagine that).  So the doctor noticed I might've had a tiny pooch, at roughly 135 pounds, and suggested that I lose about 10 pounds.  He said "even 2 pounds is an added burden to your heart".  Well seeing as how he had the medical degree, and I didn't, I said that I'd see what I could do and promptly enrolled myself in a running program to help lose a few extra pounds. Several months later of what turned into a marathon training program I was able to whittle my way down to a whopping 130 pounds and decided I didn't care so much for running afterall and quit after crossing that finish line, of course.  And so began my never ending battle with those blasted 10 pounds.

After the marathon, it took me about a year to find the 5 pounds I had lost.  Then my next training program began, to obtain my Professional Engineer's license.  What was supposed to be a six month endeavor took the better part of 2 years and in that time I didn't make time to workout and proceeded to put on another 10 pounds.  Who has time to workout after a 9 hour workday, then either review class or studying, then actually taking the exam, and then sitting (and gaining more weight) for another 3 months in mental recovery while waiting for the results, only to start the process over again. Well once I did pass the exam, of course it was all about celebrating... and celebrate I did with more food / drink into yet another 5 pounds!  I know you're thinking 'ehhh... it happens to us all,' and I have to say I was one happy camper, until the day that I wasn't.

I remember that day too... sitting at work through the "biometrics" exam where the medical assistants come to the office and test our blood glucose and cholesterol levels, weigh us and print out our results including our Body Mass Index and tell you whether you're healthy or should see your doctor to improve.  In my case, my BMI came back "borderline overweight".  Ouch.  Nothing like cold hard numbers as if the ones on the scale or on the tag of my size 10 slacks weren't enough.  Now I had a physical flesh and blood person telling me that I was borderline overweight. How depressing!

Well you can believe the first thing I did (after setting down the bagel, naturally) was jump on a diet and exercise routine. So as to not shock my system I gradually eased myself into 2x a week at the gym, then 3, and then a strict low carb diet for 2 weeks, then a moderate low carb/high protein diet and a personal trainer.  Surprisingly it took only about 5 months to reverse 3 years of this battle.  20 pounds and 3 pant sizes later, I have been able to easily maintain by only somewhat watching what I eat while I keep my activity level up. Without the personal trainer I've found a new love for power yoga and zumba which I alternate throughout the week with weight training and a fun sport like soccer or softball.

So earlier today I stroll into my doctor's office in my slim little size 4 self, the thinnest I've been in many years and the healthiest too I might add.  First thing my doctor says without trying to sound creepy is "well you look really...uhh nice" (thanks!) and so we start on the subject of the blood pressure medication. Four years later and I tell him I'm seriously tired of taking prescription meds. I'm over it! Going to the pharmacy every month and battling the old lady to the front of the line because she may need her psoriasis cream but I have places to be seen in this new body and standing in line at the pharmacy isn't one of them!  At this point in my life I'm looking at a long road ahead (Lord willing) and I would love to be medication-free along the way until I'm just plain old, then medicare HAD BETTER BE THERE for my ailments.

He put back on his doctorly tone and said well, let's see what your blood pressure looks like now and I'd really like to see (and he pointed) "a little more off the midsection".  Ummm excuse me?!  No.  I laughed first, and second I told him NO.  Sorry buddy, but that just can't be done.  I'm not going to kill myself 6 days a week at the gym and go on a strict diet to get to 125 pounds! And sorry to tell you, I just don't want to be any skinnier than I am now.  That's just unhealthy.  My heart, and my doctor, are just going to have to deal with it. I mean really... this coming from the 6 foot tall super slim asian MALE doctor.  Yes. I wasn't aware doctors were prescribing eating disorders these days.

So here we are, at a healthy-ish blood pressure and a newly charged goal of keeping the weight off right at 130 pounds where I happily (and healthily) belong.

If you don't know what FB stands for in this post, I can't help you.

I might lose a couple FB friends on this one but that's ok because I'm pretty sure if I croaked tomorrow, 310 friends would not come to my funeral.

I've noticed a few things since the FB wildfire has swept through my family and friends. One being that the vomiting of forwards into my inbox has been replaced by people's streams of consciousness on my news feed.

While it's nice to stay in the loop on the haps so when I do see people I can ask "hey how is your sick aunt doing" it just seems that some of my dear FB friends have gotten a little out of control on the postings.

I decided first before I put the proverbial foot in mouth I would do a little inventory on my own FB postings. Generally I can say that I mostly report on some opinion that I think others can relate to or might find surprising about me... or something to solicit a reaction such as a photo. Not just posting because I'm waiting at jiffy lube and feel like letting everyone know that their magazine selection sucks.

That being said I think it's worth an occasional reminder of what is generally not FB worthy. In other words, I'll just say what we all think sometimes but never say.  Also worth noting I'm not calling out anyone in particular, so calm down and finish reading before you block me.

First off, posting should never be done when home sick from work. If you're healthy enough to be updating your status from home, you're healthy enough to be working from home too. Your job is not that hard.

It's a safe bet to assume that at any given point of the day 99% of us are either tired or hungry. No shocker there. Guess what? I'm inhaling. Now? I'm exhaling.

I can respect the fact that you know 12 languages. Let's just stick to english or spanglish because I don't read sanskrit. It goes without saying that **Gh3tTo** speak is not a language, but all abbreviations are fair game... obv.

We should also remember our employers and blabbermouth coworkers know how to use FB and if you friend them, don't complain about your job or you might find yourself without one. If I hired you and knew you hated work, I'd fire you.

Thank God for the "hide" option or I'd have to block all farmers and gamers and who knows what else.

I'm a grammar nazi. I can't help it, but you can. So let's just get this over with. If you passed the 4th grade you should know the difference between their, there, and they're, and to vs. too. Here's one for you. I'm going to enjoy their party if there is cake. My friends said they're going to enjoy it too. Any questions?

Moving on.

Cussing on my FB comments or my wall is a no-no. My mother is on FB so let's keep it PG13, y'all.

Lastly, anyone who frequents FB daily is way too ADD to read your huge paragraph status update. Give me a link or a photo and a catchy line to hook me in. Like any good writer I need you to market your novel.

There, now that I got that outta my system, many thanks to my FB friends for all the birthday love last week.  Even if I don't talk to many of you on a regular, it's nice to know you care enough to post! Special thanks to the snail mail folks... you know who you are.

Vacations Part 2

After returning from my first cruise vacation with my awesome family and their spectacular friends I have decided to offer up my must-have list for anyone thinking of taking a cruise in the future (ahem... this better mean you because if you haven't gone on a cruise yet YOU MUST GO NOW).

Seabands - available at the pharmacy. Maybe motion sickness is all in my head (you mean the ship wasn't violently rocking when docked?) They are also a quick/cheap remedy.

Visine - for morning after bloodshots or windy days on a cruise ship. You can thank me and my cousin Iaesha for this one.

Sundress for every day of the trip (me again, and Vicenta).

Clutch wallet for the essentials: ID, cash, and chapstick because the sundress has no pockets and ID and cash in the bra gets uncomfortable. Why else do guys board shorts come with pockets. Obviously.

3 pairs of underwear for every day of the trip. Or enough for pre- and post-poolside wear and formal dinner nights. And because some cabinmates don't appreciate handwashed undies hanging around the room.

A cabin with a view. Confined spaces and no windows can make even the non-claustrophobic a little panicky after a couple days.

Gas medicine. Confined spaces, people. Confined spaces!

Tip calculator. Unless money is no object to you or you can do quick math in your head. Or you can just realize they already tack on 15% to every drink and resort to looking like a cheap bastard for not adding extra.

Water bottles if you plan to work out. $5 for a bottle of water (plus $0.50 tip) is ABSOLUTELY CRIMINAL. Now you can just skip the water and the working out part and fill a nalgene with your beverage of choice (thank you Gina for this one). Afterall spring water is overrated especially when it tastes like minerals. EVIAN.

Extra sunglasses - for days at Port in case they get lost in a big wave or stolen or dropped when stumbling back to the ship.

Book to read when by the pool when you happen to not be passed out. Something uplifting of the non-natural disaster sinking ship genre is recommended.

Walkie talkies - Save your international roaming fees because you're never too old for walkie talkies!

Yes I think that concludes my shortlist, now feel free to print this handy guide and laminate for future use. I stand by my tips so don't judge me! You can thank me by commenting on how fabulous you think I am / cruises are.

Vacations Part 1

I have a confession. Ready? Good. The truth is there are few things I enjoy less than going camping. There, I said it. Cavity filling? No problem. Just give me some novocaine and my ipod. Sleeping in the woods? HUGE problem. I'm not sure why when as an environmental engineer, my job more or less consists of minimizing effects of development on our natural resources through proper planning and design... And yet when an opportunity arises to spend good, quality time in that environment, I'll make up every excuse in the book to avoid it.

Certain things just lost their illusion of fun and mystery once I reached 14. Like puberty. And everything that had to do with high school. If people are born with straight teeth, they don't get braces. If people have a home with a comfortable bed, they don't sleep outside on the ground, with rocks in their back. I know you see my logic.

There were a couple good memories I had of camping, and they had to do with cute boys and food. Surprise. I know how much my family would LOVE for me to relay story of being 12 or 13 and having a massive crush on the kids camp guy and literally collapsing in disbelief when he mentioned his girlfriend. Mellodramatic much? Well it makes for a good story, and I don't embarass easily thanks to growing up around my father, I've had lots of practice in that department! Love you, Dad ;)

The other memories involved playing board games and eating turkey sandwiches and cheesecake on my birthday, which always coincided with the annual camping trip with the family. There was never really a dramatic turn for me, I just know by the time I reached 14, the fun and escape of camping was overshadowed by sheer discomfort of being dirty all the time, walking with a flashlight to the bathroom, and the bugs. Dare I say it... I'm far too girly for camping.

Yes, I know, nowadays everybody owns an air mattress, as if to say they can enjoy nature without roughing it. But panicking and carefully contorting my body while I remove my shoes to avoid getting dirt or bugs into the tent...guess what... is still roughing it! Not to mention if there are no flushable toilets and you have to resort to the portapotties. I'm not usually a freak about where I go, but having to manage the flashlight, bugs, and dirt all the way to the portapotty is enough to stop my bowels in their tracks for the duration. And people have the audacity to call this a vacation?!

What ever happened to renting a beach house... taking a roadtrip. cabins in tahoe. You can even do yosemite if you need to become one with nature... and then at night relax in the comfort of a hotel and NOT the little shacks with the cloth door like we did on the 8th grade class trip.

So needless to say whenever the subject of camping comes up around friends, family, or colleagues I cant help but grimace knowing I'm about to crush their excitement and betray both my family traditions and my profession. It's not even that I can't live without cable and my blow dryer, either. It probably comes down to knowing I can't really relax unless I'm actually comfortable. It may be girly but at least I choose to opt out of any camping trip that is longer than one night to save my friends/family from having to experience the dirty, uncomfortable, stopped up version of myself. Trust me, it's not cute.

Age (in)appropriate questions

I love the questions I get to look forward to at my age. Somehow I always end up in situations where people are comfortable enough asking what they feel are age appropriate questions.

Sure there's the occasional person who asks me how school is going even though I graduated 5 (count them FIVE) years ago. I'm going to assume it's because I still look 20 and not because I can't pass for 28 in most social circles. But I'm really referring to the other questions.

Lets see... there's the 'Are you married?' No. 'How is your dating life?' No comment. 'Have you bought any real estate?' Nope. 'Are you investing?' In what exactly... my shoe collection? 'Roth IRA?' Hmmm, never heard of that designer. And by the time they are done I have an entire body ache that feels like a hangover followed by 5 year old's punch to the lady parts.

And then I tell them I'm 28 and newly single and prefer not to invest in real estate until I'm married. And here it comes... The reassuring pat on my shoulder followed by 'Don't worry. You have plenty of time.' I know I do! Unless there's some race I didn't know about? Sure I'm well aware of my biological clock, since we're on the subject, but I wasn't aware that everybody else was keeping time for me.

People, let me say this once... this is my choice. If I wanted to be married, I could've jumped on board that ship when I had the opportunities. I choose the life that I have now because I have a supporting set of parents who pushed me to go after what I wanted in life and to never settle whether it be an education or travel or a new challenge or my relationships. And thank the Lord in heaven that they don't pressure me into settling down.

Sure, being single has been an adjustment. I recently heard it described as putting on a pair of new prescription glasses. At first, it's a headache and you hate them but wear them because you know you need them. And over time your eyes adjust and you see life in a whole new light. Damn, my therapist is good! So while I am just barely getting to like these new glasses (to steal her metaphor), I'd really rather everyone keep the questions simple and sweet. 'How are you?' I'm great. 'Would you like another glass of wine?' Yes. 'I have an extrememly handsome doctor friend, would you like to meet him?' God yes.

That's it. In exactly that order. I'm not asking for too much, am I?

The Pay As You Go Plan

I started getting the paper on the weekends, one of the latest things i enjoy in my free time... my ME time. i like the quiet hours on sunday mornings to pour over the ads and pretend i'm actually looking for some great deal. it's basically like window shopping in the comfort of my pajamas without having to look like one of those who have given up on themselves entirely and resorted to pajamas in public. and sorry tell you - Ugg boots and velour pants - an outfit do not make.

What was my point. Oh yeah, weekend paper! I finally succummed to the subscription when it occurred to me that this kind of pick-and-choose is actually liberating for someone like me who spends all of 3 hours an evening at home to get stuff done and reading the paper is not one of them. Nor is watching TV unless it's Thursday nights and you'd better believe I'll be watching cougartown and grey's anatomy on my little TV with the bunny ear antenna. That's the other thing...I just cant justify the expense of cable TV when i really dont have a lotta time or interest in TV, especially reality TV. if I wanted to spend my money watching a bunch of trainwrecks sink to a new low i can do that for free at the local dive on college night. good times!

but you know, it makes me think. why hasn't anyone thought of applying the weekend newspaper subscription idea to cable TV? why can't i pay for the days I most need it and the rest of the days resort to the local (free) channels for basic shows and local news. Why can't I have my McDreamy and eat him too? or... something like that. you know what I'm getting at. I'd easily pay $10 for a weekend knowing that I have company coming especially the family who look at me like I just shot a kitten when I tell them I don't have cable. No InDemand?! No ESPN?! No Comedy Central?! How can you live with yourself???!!!

Well before my cousin has a hernia, I could just flash my fancy pay-as-you-go plan in their face because that's how I roll. Are we not the society of immediate gratification? How has this plan not become available for the busy working professional w/out the 2.5 people per household justifying a monthly cable bill? If the newspaper industry is threatened by online access, how has digital converter boxes and Hulu.com not threatened cable TV companies to offer the pay-as-you-go? In FACT, I cant even (get dressed and go) rent a movie at blockbuster if i wanted to because they've all closed down in Sacramento, but I can RENT a movie on Amazon.com and watch it on my laptop for $3.99. Seriously people. I know I've exhausted this point. But COME ON. Somebody get me someone who knows a thing or two about paying extra for services they dont need when they've got all they need at home. Does anyone know how to get a hold of Tiger Woods? Jesse James maybe? Well like them, I guess I'm just screwed.

The day my shoes thought they got the better of me

Yesterday was one of those days where I woke up on time, had my freshly dry cleaned work clothes ready, lunch packed, and even had time to do my hair before running out the door to get to work by 8. By all accounts a miracle in itself! Really productive day at work full of meetings, projects, getting clients and coworkers taken care of. Even made tons of progress on this recent project. Seriously felt like one of those days where everything goes right.

Wrong.

I jumped in my car after work on my way to a dinner date, kicked off my heels because I drive barefoot (who doesn't) and realized... in my morning rush... I had grabbed 2 different shoes. That's right... grabbed the left of my black stiletto and the right of my black platform wedge. umm how the hell??? I guess they're both black, same height, same toe, and both reside in my very dark closet just waiting for the day that I'll make that mistake and the older pair will get even with me for forgetting them in my car for 2 months and buying a newer, apparently way too similar pair. Karma baby.

So there I was on the way to my date, with 2 mismatched shoes and with the only other pair being flats which clearly wouldn't work at this point considering the length of my pants. Curse my shortness again! I managed to get through dinner, hoping he wouldn't notice and ask if I normally wear 2 different shoes because clearly guys have only 2 pairs of shoes in their closet, and maybe even a working closet light because they can FIX anything, and thus... that never happens to them. Well just to be safe, I awkwardly walked behind him to and from dinner and afterwards quickly switched into my jeans and flats w/ no notice of the shoes... hah! wardrobe malfunction averted!

I suppose this is the only time I've ever been grateful for a guy's lack of attention to detail. I mean really, do they honestly think we wake up and roll out of bed with "come and get me" hair and eyes? More like the "lost a fight with my pillow" look to both. Please. Would it kill 'em to notice when I wear plum instead of beige eye shadow. Curly instead of straight hair. New blouse that I got a killer deal on which you'd know if you paid attention to anything other than socks first, then shoes, then loop, swoop, and pull.

Then again, as they say, be careful what you wish for!

Lessons Learned in Corporate America

My 5-year anniversary with my company came a lot quicker than I thought it would. I still feel like I just graduated! I know I've learned a lot of skills in these short years, technical or otherwise. Probably the biggest lesson I'm constantly learning is the fine art of corporate politics. Sometimes it's how to best work with your colleagues and your clients. Sometimes it's swallowing your pride to kiss a little corporate rear *gasp*. Other times it's the "chain of command" to follow so as to not step on the wrong toes.

I still remember my first run-in with corporate politics, 1-month on the job and of all things, on the wording on my business card. 5-years to get a degree in environmental engineering and my first business card stated "Designer, Public Infrastructure". Sounded like a roadway designer or a city planner to me. I asked my boss whether I could get it changed to something a little more descriptive of my role, especially since I was hired into the environmental infrastructure group. I was told it was up to HR who orders business cards, who also gets approval from the VP before submitting the request to corporate. In other words, I could take it up w/ HR who would request a new set of business cards that may or may not get vetoed by the VP on its way up to corporate.

Well this was disconcerting, so I did what my cal poly education taught me to do... walk up and ask why. Not to my boss, or to HR, but to the VP. And so I headed down the hall, ponytail swaying, straight to the corner office and knocked on his door to discuss the fate of my business card with him.

A serious looking man in a suit stared back at me and gently explained to the "newbie" that in our industry the term environmental on a business card usually refers to "bugs and bunnies" and we don't want to give off the wrong idea to potential clients. [I'm sorry? I didnt realize I got a degree in bugs bunny engineering. Deep breath...] I explained that I most sincerely valued my new job, but that I also took a lot of pride in my degree and my department, and that I'm sure the clients would understand that since I'm at the "designer" or "junior" level that surely they won't get the wrong idea about my qualifications. He nodded and said "I'll see what I can do."

2-weeks later a hefty box of business cards with "Designer, Environmental Infrastructure" appeared on my desk. A small victory for me considering I wouldn't get a new set until I passed my PE a few years later at which point I would get to choose my own title. Environmental Engineer. Simple, concise, technical. No warm and fuzzy bugs and bunnies here.

Sometimes it's what they don't teach you in school that is most valuable. My advice is to learn the corporate politics quickly, always act professionally, and look the part even if you lack experience. One of the biggest compliments I've received on this job came from the serious suit's successor who upon 5 minutes of talking with me about my position and my other interests asked me "where did you go to school? wait don't tell me... cal poly." How did he know, i asked? "I could just tell." I was definitely honored that someone of his caliber, and a fellow cal poly grad I assumed, would see in me a fraction of his potential especially when I decided to skip the butt-kissing side of corporate politics and just be myself. That reminds me, most important lesson, don't forget to stay true to yourself in corporate america. Don't worry about what others are doing around you. Just do you... do well... and it'll pay off.

New Years Resolution-ers: I have a bone to pick with you

sweet.

i just realized that this is the time of year where i get to spend 20+ minutes walking around the gym aimlessly waiting for my machine to be freed up by the hundreds of people who have finally decided to dust off their gym memberships. gotta love new years resolution time.

well pardon my backfat, i've been using that machine for the last 3 months. that very one you are breathing all over right now. no i will not go find another. that beast is mine for 30-45 minutes on monday, wednesday, and saturday. cant we just fast forward a month when you won't be here, forcing me to park in the very back of the parking lot heaven forbid i have to walk 50 yards further to my cardio machine. let's just pretend you tried really hard because lord knows I was you in January 2007, 8 and 9.

because you know what, you look fine anyway. im the one with an entire wardrobe in the basement of the clothes that used to fit. that combined with the fact that im too cheap to go buy new slacks when there is a perfectly good pair of 6's waiting patiently for me. and they were $70. and they've already been hemmed to match my shortness. and you don't really intend to get sweaty anyways in your juicy couture pantsuit.

speaking of. now that im on the subject and clearly on a fatroll here. what ever happened to women that sweat? clearly im the only one, that 1 out of 5 on the secret commericals. except i really don't need prescription strength deodorent because i don't really sweat an abnormal amount under there, i just happen to sweat the kind of entire body sweat that makes dry-wear the greatest invention since clear roll-on.

anyway, as i was saying. i'm the one that would otherwise be dripping sweat on that machine you're using. If that grosses you out, im sorry. but i'm in desperately fat-kicking times right now. and this is not my new years resolution. this is week 12 of the higher energy, lower carb, less flabby but still lovable me.

One Crazy Week

My computer decided to go nuts this week and disable all Internet browsers rendering my computer virtually useless while almost cutting me off from the rest of the world. Thank god for my pricey pal - the iPhone - from which I can transfer account funds while I wait in line on Black Friday, gps myself to the nearest starbucks, and post a blog entry while I think about how much it's going to cost me to fix this laptop. But
I have survived 5 hours of thanksgiving cooking and 8 hours of black friday shopping, on 3 hours of sleep. I'm exhausted and drained but hopeful that the future will bring resolution to some if not all of my problems.
In the meantime, I'm spending quality time with myself, catching up on a book, the gym, and sleep. Glorious sleep. An afternoon nap is calling my name. What a great way to finish off a very busy, very crazy week.

Sent from my iPhone

May I Yelp You?

Ever have a friend who is way more hip and in-the-know that yourself that you must consult before trying the new Vietnamese place around the corner? I know, me neither. Well don't worry, Yelp is the solution to finding the best restaurant/dry cleaner/vet in town and I've used it a bajillion times to either consult fellow Sacramentans or gripe about that scary hairdo I just got at that one place in Natomas (eek!) and feel better knowing I will have saved countless others from a future butchering.

I have to say I've never been steered wrong by fellow Yelpers, it's a great resource. AND comes w/ it's own nifty little iPhone App. Though handy, the app doesn't let you post a question/conversation to other yelpers. My most recent question was where to eat late-night in Sacramento. I'm mostly talking weekends, when bars close and you've got the munchies. I posted a question and Voila! tons of users posted way more replies than I was expecting. I summarized everyone's responses along with address and closing times as the last post... just something to give back in appreciation for the site and its users.

And in case you're curious, and live in Sactown... here you go:

http://www.yelp.com/topic/sacramento-late-night-eating-in-sac

Bad Habits

So it was recently brought to my attention that I talk with my mouth full. Like all the time. Why? Obviously it's not intentional, maybe I have plenty to say that just can't wait. Plus I've never claimed to be all that lady-like, which I think is part of my charm.

Among friends, I've been known to belch, cuss, drink beer, talk trash, say that's what he said. Naturally, I play sports but I never say it's just a game, I'm super competitive and you'd better be good if you're on my team even if it's charades or so-help-me-god... Anyway. How have I never noticed this talking w/ mouth full habit before? And I love how my boyfriend just now points this out after 2 years. Thanks babe! Now that I know, do I change it or at least hope I remember to swallow my food first in front of a client? Did my mom forget to correct me for that growing up? I remember the elbows on the table and the wooden spoon just in case we forgot. Hmmm...

Well after 28 years of a bad habit, what do you do? I tell you what. If it's not hurting anyone, offending anyone, and I'm not spitting on you at dinner, then Get.Over.It. We all have little annoying things that people shouldn't do at our age. Plus it's not like I'm blowing my nose on the cloth napkin (although I hear that's ok). Or getting sloshed and puking on the side of your house. Or belching at work. Ever!

So I guess if you have a problem w/ my eating habits, talking habits, drinking habits, or anything else I do of the habitual nature, then please exit stage left and have a nice day! Otherwise, I'll give you a mouthful to complain about... that's what he said.

***Feel free to share your bad habits in the comments! This post is for C. Starr who enables my habits on a weekly basis. Thanks for putting up with me!***

September 11, 2001

I was 20 years old when it happened. It was September and I'd usually be finishing up my summer job and heading back to school on the Central Coast of California. That weekend, however, I was visiting my friend Lauren in Philadelphia with a couple other girlfriends from high school. I had originally planned on flying out on Sunday the 9th, but since my dad worked for the airlines and I had a stand-by ticket, I stayed a couple extra days and intended to fly out around 1:30 on tuesday.

I awoke that morning to Lauren panicking from the front room. She had turned on the TV just as the first plane hit. I sat in her living room as the 2nd plane hit and was completely stunned. The first thing I did after I snapped out of it was pick up the phone to call my parents, but I couldn't. They were travelling to Europe and hadn't landed yet.

We listened to the news as the airplanes were grounded, and knowing it would be a week before I would be able to fly stand-by anywhere let alone to San Francisco, I figured i would have to find another way to get home. Once I finally got a hold of my parents, and we quickly went over the few options I had, we settled on the only available option at the time - taking a Greyhound bus across the country. At that time (or any time), riding the greyhound for 3 days wasn't ideal, but it was the fastest and cheapet ticket off the East Coast, and so I hurried down to the station in downtown Philly and got in line that afternoon.

It was unlike anything I've ever seen. Families, mobs of people, the poor and affluent, filled the greyhound station in a line that wrapped the entire station twice. I boarded the first bus around 6:00 and we left and headed towards Pittsburg. That station was no different than Philly, except it was near where those brave passengers diverted a greater national disaster and crashed the plane destined for the Pentagon. Anxiety gripped this bus's passengers, and everyone sat silent as our nation held its breath. I can't really describe what I experienced, as it was different for everyone on that day. But as we left Pennsylvania, the passengers breathed a little easier the further away from the coast we traveled.

Around the Pittsburg station I discovered (or was discovered by) a very nice older couple who were also travelling to San Francisco. I'll call them the Johnsons, a husband and wife in their late 50s/early 60s. They heard that my parents were out of the country, and that I was travelling alone. Since they had a daughter about my age, they told me they would look out for me, and I thanked them and sat near them on the next bus.

What happened next could only be described as my body's self defense mechanism. In dealing with trauma, sometimes people's minds block things out unconsciously, well mine tells me to go to sleep. And so I slept... for the next 2 days of the 3-day trip. The Johnsons awoke me when it was time to transfer buses, I stood with them in line and once I sat down again, fell immediately asleep. While the other passengers traded stories and got to know each other, I completely checked out. I didn't wake up, in fact, until Cheyenne, Wyoming. The passengers laughed and said "we were wondering if you were ever going to wake up." The last 1100 miles of that trip is a blur. I remember crossing into California, and stopping in the Sacramento greyhound (only a couple miles from where I live today), and finally arriving in San Francisco where I was greeted by my sister and niece, then only a few months old.

It was an emotional goodbye, to the Johnsons. Thinking back on the 3 days they spent with me, they welcomed me into their hearts, protected me from imminent danger (hello... seedy middle america greyhound stations = no place for my petite, very cute butt!), and gave me a glimmer of hope in my anxiety.

We exchanged addresses that day, and I've since sent them a couple of letters, usually on the eve of the 9/11 anniversary. I am forever changed by the events of that tragedy, and because I truly believe they were my guardian angels. Half the reason I wrote them was to be sure they actually existed and I didn't dream it! They wrote back each time, of course, as kind people usually do. I truly can't thank them enough for what they did, and how their kindness still resonates with me today, as does the courage and bravery of those Americans who gave their lives that day and since to protect our freedom.

I've decided...

I wanna be the kind of person who sends snail mail. what ever happened to people using regular mail? USPS has been wondering that for the past few years since electronic billing and e-cards took hold. Email has destroyed so much of the personal interaction that used to build communities and even force real-time conversations in order to solve problems at work. Now it's all about the "paper trail" and proper documentation, CCing all the important people who feel entitled to be kept in the loop, or often times just to CYA (cover your a--). We've all been guilty of sending an email instead of walking 10 feet down the hall and getting a quick answer.

Avoiding the sense of invading someone's office space with our questions, our personalities, we confine ourselves to the same 4 walls in the comforting, familiar presence of our computer and ipod. side note... since when is it ok to walk the halls at work with headphones? No, your headphones do not preclude you from the generic hello or head nod in the hallway. Your music is not that good, trust me.

Well last month I successfully sent out 4 pieces of mail: birthday cards, a birthday gift, and a just because mailing. I also gave a card to a co-worker whose wife has cancer. Sometimes you don't need a reason or an occasion to help brighten someone's day. Or you want to make someone feel better but you don't know what to say. My dad recently told me 'when you speak from the heart, it can never come out wrong'. Good advice, Dad!

And then this month sent me for a crazy loop and now I don't know which way is up. The boyfriend and I moved. Then his teenage kids came to visit for the month. Yup, teenage and yes, kids plural. Had a housewarming party (oops... meant to mail out invitations, ended up emailing a few people). Still haven't sent out our change of address. In other words... the whole plan went to HELL. So yeah, I still want to be the kind of person who sends snail mail. I'm workin on it. But first I gotta find those stamps.