One year later, part 2: the condo.

In two weeks, we'll mark the one year anniversary of owning our condo. It's been a great year, and homeownership has been fantastic for us. Sure, we have to get the carpets cleaned every 6 weeks. And yes, the AC broke and it's looking like it will be well over $1000 to fix. And yes, the market has tanked and if we were to sell the condo now, we'd probably be screwed. But we love our home, and in the past year we have been able to make some minor changes with some major benefits for us, mostly that we've been able to create a space that makes us happy.

To mark the anniversary of the condo purchase, I thought I'd post some photos. Also, I'm working on a design show, and the host/designer encouraged me to post some photos so he can give me some freebie advice. Yay!

Here's the living room:



The wall color looks blue-grey in this picture, but looks much grey-er in person. We're happy with it. The sliders used to be covered by horrible vertical blinds. We love the curtains here. Notice Noodle's toys sprinkled throughout the room. We're in desperate need of a new media stand for the TV and components. Also, the tan chair in the foreground will be replaced eventually, but it serves its purpose well now.



This is a detail shot of the fireplace. I'm not really crazy about the glass mantle... we tried to make it more "us" by adding little votives all the way across. Also, the shelves on the side were something I loved when we originally saw the place. Now, they're a huge pain because we can't figure out what to put inside on them. Gina just sketched this artwork this weekend, so we think we can get away with leaving those shelves empty since there's finally something to look at above the fireplace. (We both LOVE this piece of art!)



Our super comfy couch, which might be too big for our space, and our photo wall. I bought these frames about eight months ago, and we finally hung the pictures two months ago. We LOVE them. There's that tan chair again. Someday...



This is the dining room, with Noodle being moody under the table. I guess I should've turned the lights on for this picture. The mirror wall was there when we moved in - NOT OUR IDEA. We do not like it, but feel like it's not worth removing. A lot of people say it makes our place look "bigger." I say it makes our place look "70s." To each their own, I guess. I like the table and the high chairs, but I look forward to a time when this can be not our main dining room table, but a spare one. I sort of miss the simple regular-height chairs.



This is the kitchen. We originally didn't want to change anything in this space, because we LOVE it, but I'd like a new microwave (this one is from Vietnam, I think), and I really would love to stain the cabinets a darker color. Gina stained the cabinets in the bathroom, which I stupidly didn't take any pictures of in this set, and they look sooooo good. But it was a hard job and she's not too keen on doing it for the bigger kitchen cabinets. Again with the mirrors, though. Whoever designed this condo was very vain.





We are so incredibly happy with the paint color in the bedroom. It's exactly what I envisioned when I picked it out. We love the bed and the curtains. However, I now realized we probably should have done the curtains to the floor, but it was hard enough finding these curtains that were long enough to cover the just the windows! Just like in the living room, there used to be vertical blinds covering these windows. It was hideous. I'm looking in to getting a piece of furniture made to go under the curtains, like a low shelving unit in a dark wood to match the bed and to add extra storage. I hope that will make up for the fact that the curtains don't go all the way to the floor.

The one thing about the paint color is that now the doors and the light switches and plates look terrible. In time, we'll probably look at maybe painting the doors a crisper white or something... not sure if we'll ever switch the actual switches. The switch plates would be easy, but the switches? Not so much.

Also, Gina and I both used to love that blonde maple color of the night stand, but now we've both moved to enjoying darker woods, so we need to get new night stands in here. Not to mention, the night stand on my side of the bed is a chair. Classy! We want some darker night stands with COVERED STORAGE, since we both read a lot and always have a ton of books by the bed.

There's another room and 2 bathrooms to post, but the other room is so far from being where we want it to be that I don't want to even put pictures of it up. So that's all you get for now!

Unfortunately, I have no good before pics of the condo, but trust me... it is so much better now.

It's a laser.

Seventeen years of wearing glasses ended in the most expensive 20 minutes of my lifetime on Friday when I got Lasik surgery. Not just any Lasik – Custom Wavefront IntraLasik or something fancy like that! This means that my eyes were effed up just enough to require an additional thousand dollars or so worth of technology.

I’ve never disliked wearing glasses. As a matter of fact, in the past few years, my glasses have sort of become my signature thing. Some people have red hair. Some people have one arm. I had glasses. I got compliments on them, and they were the one designer item I would purchase.

So why the hell would I spend money to get rid of them? The problem was not wearing glasses. The problem was having no other option. Despite wearing contacts quite successfully in college for two years, I have since become unable to wear them without severe irritation and dry eyes. I’ve gone through four pairs at a minimum of $200 a pair in the last eight years and have not been happy with any of them. So I have gone summer after summer without sunglasses or the ability to see clearly while swimming. I have played tennis, softball, and football, all while wearing glasses. This is not fun.

Gina and I have been talking about me getting Lasik pretty seriously for about 6 months, and not-so-seriously for about a year. My big thing was to get it before we had kids. Oh, I should add “babysitting” to a list of activities I HATE doing while wearing glasses. Kids and glasses do not mix. Anyway, we agreed that the closer we get to having children, the better chance there is that I won’t have the money to get this procedure done, so I just did it. (Believe me, I don’t have the money – but I have until June of 09 to pay it off, interest free! Woo hoo!)

I have to say, I recommend this surgery to anyone. For what the results are, the surgery is a breeze. BUT, I would not want to do it again. (Readers who have weak stomachs, please stop reading now.) The incision part was bladeless for me, which was great, but it still was incredibly uncomfortable and, I admit it, pretty scary. There was a point where my vision went completely black but my eyes were wide open. They quite literally have to suck your eyeballs out of your head to make that incision, and that pressure is NOT fun. It’s that pressure that causes your vision to go black. However, it took about 10 seconds per eye.

The actual surgery was completely painless. The only discomfort I experienced was having the eyelid spreaders in my eyes… but even that was fine once I figured out how to relax. Once they turned the laser on, each eye took maybe 30 seconds. It wasn’t crystal clear like everyone seems to say it is when it was over. Everything was still blurry, but that’s because they kept putting these milky drops in my eyes that are anti-inflammatory. However, I could tell that my vision had improved greatly.

I went home, popped two valium (doctor’s orders!) and a motrin, and slept for 6 hours, which they say is mandatory. I did wake up once during that 6 hours and my eyes felt like they were full of burning sand. I forced myself back to sleep and when I awoke for the evening, they felt just a little dry and a little itchy, but nothing too terrible.

It’s now Wednesday, I am glasses-free and 20/20. My vision is just a little hazy sometimes, and it gets worse at night, but the doctor said that was normal for about the first month. It sort of feels like I’m wearing dirty or old contacts, but it doesn’t hurt or itch at all. I’m not allowed to rub my eyes for FOUR WEEKS, which is probably the hardest part of the whole thing.

I’m also going through a mourning period… I do miss my glasses. I didn’t think that I would, but I do. It doesn’t help that people keep saying, “Oh but I loved your glasses!” or “You looked so cute in your glasses!” Truthfully, I probably hid behind my glasses a lot, but damn it, I’m almost 30 and I don’t want to hide behind anything.

It has been fantastic to wake up every morning and see clearly, and to be able to wear sunglasses every single day in a city that rarely has any cloud cover. It’s amazing to be able to tell the difference in the shower between the shampoo and the conditioner without having to bring the bottle four inches from my face. I love falling asleep on the couch watching TV with no worry that I’m bending my glasses. I love going into the pool and being able to see all around me.

Despite all of this, I might some day be that person wearing prescription-less fashion glasses. Could be worse, right?

RIGHT?

This is for Mary Reilly.

I shot Julia Roberts.

Well, actually, gina shot Julia Roberts… and if we’re getting technical, the shooting actually happened in a bizarre dream I had the other night. And if we’re getting really technical, I have a feeling it was a combination of Julia Roberts and Angelina Jolie, because there was a moment where the widower was Brad Pitt. Maybe I was just confusing “reality” with The Mexican.

I (stupidly) told a co-worker about this dream, and he had a very reasonable question: “Was there a motive?”

Maybe some people might actually have a motive to kill Julia Roberts, but I am not one of them. I hold a special place in my heart for Julia Roberts. So special, in fact, that I am able to overlook such movies as Mary Reilly and Runaway Bride. I was downright obsessed with Julia in high school. I have seen Pretty Woman probably 200 times. When I first visited Los Angeles, I was staying with my friend Becky, who worked in Beverly Hills. I would go to work with her during the day just so I could walk around and find all of the places where Pretty Woman was filmed. (I can show you the Regent Beverly Wilshire, and even the store where she served the mean saleslady a taste of her own medicine.) I have also managed to find the apartment she was staying in with Kit. Yeah. I’m that person.

And even more confusing, I would certainly never want to harm Angelina Jolie. That obsession started well into adulthood, and while I have kept it bay pretty well, I would turn into a 12 year old if I ran into on the street (for the third time). I won’t go in to the intricacies of my everlasting love for Angelina because I have been told more than once it is trite and common, but I’m just saying I have no ill will towards her.

Why then would valuable dream time be taken up by these murderous visions? As I thought more about this, I realized that this might actually officially be a recurring dream theme. Gina and I were just discussing recurring dreams, and I realized I don’t have any, save for the occasional dream where a plane crashes, dreams which (not surprisingly) started after 9/11. But after this movie star murder dream, I realized I have had quite a few dreams where I have killed or have been directly involved in killing someone.

The dreams always begin after I have committed the crime, never before or during, and I am overwhelmed by a crushing sense of regret and doom, and a tangible disgust in what I have done. There is never even a remote possibility in the dreams that I will get away with my crime, but it’s not the punishment that scares me. It’s the disappointment I know I will face from everyone I love, and the disappointment in myself that I so clearly lost control. And even in the haze of my nightmare, I am suffocated by the desire to go back in time, to undo what I’ve done. Even though it’s a dream world, where anything can happen, I am never able to fix the situation. I’m never able to bring the person back to life – I never get a second chance. The best thing that happens is that I wake up whimpering, then terrified, until that warm relief of consciousness washes over me.

I’m not sure what any of this means. I only hope the next dream I have about either one of these women involves much less gun violence and more naked cuddling.

Giovanni

Gina's brother, sister-in-law, and nephew came to visit us from Holland a few weeks ago. It was great to see them - but it went by really quickly.

Here's my favorite shot from the trip, at Venice Beach.

Bigger and better.

I quite literally have no excuse to not be posting more. Seriously. So much stuff has happened in the past six months. I want to devote one post to each of them, but they've all happened in the past. I could blog about a few things that happened more recently but I don't have any pictures to accompany. However, I was able to find one picture online that sort of illustrates something that happened recently.



This isn't quite accurate, because the Saturn Vue that I purchased is black. But I do indeed own (am leasing) one of these puppies, and boy howdy do I love it. I love the V6, I love the leather seats, the bluetooth, the remote start, the universal remote, the cargo cover, the cargo net, the FOUR DOORS, the roof rack... sigh. I love it. Love love love.

Yes, I have increased my carbon footprint. But I recycle! I take re-usable bags to the grocery store! I (sometimes) shop at farmer's markets! I vote Democrat!

Okay, okay. I'll buy a hybrid next time. Sheesh.

Making promises I can't keep, and What's in a name?

I promised myself I'd pay more attention to this space. And look, a whole March without a post.

A lot of things keep happening and changing, but there are two changes that happened a long time ago and I keep meaning to update you. First and foremost, my sister Jackie moved in with us January 23rd. She had a rough first few weeks, but then she got a job and realized how cool it is to make good money and live somewhere where it's 80 degrees in February, and she started to love it.

The day after Jackie arrived, I found a small white dog wandering around on our street. He had a nylon rope around his neck, and was filthy and matted. He came to me without much fight, so I brought him upstairs, bathed him and gave him a squirt of Advantage, intending to call Animal Control. Instead, he slept over, and then we took him to the vet, where we found out he was chipped! Yay! we called the owner and left a message... twice. No response. His skin was infected from a flea infestation - he constantly was scratching at himself. We figured we'd find a new home for him, but it's been over two months and he's made himself a part of our family.



When I first found him, I was calling him Boy Dog. I didn't want to name him because I thought if we named him, we'd get really attached to him and we'd have to give him away. Giving him away would be no easy feat to begin with - he's older, lazy, and as sweet and cuddly as he is, he is not completely housebroken. (I won't go into detail about how we got the carpets cleaned a week before we found this dog, and now... well, you can imagine.) Anyway, once we decided we were keeping him, we started to try to think of a name for him. We went through everything from Barkley to Spot, but just last week we thought of Uncle Traveling Matt (think Fraggle Rock). So now, he's Uncle Traveling Matt, or Traveling Matt, or Uncle Matt, or just Matt... but mostly, he's still Boy Dog.



At this point, there's no way we could ever give him away. Noodle would never forgive us.

A day at the beach.

Notes from Roatan

I wrote this while I was in Roatan last fall:

17 November 2007

I’ve been in Honduras for a week for work; specifically, Roatan, which is part of the Bay Islands of Honduras. I assume this is where most of the tourists come when they come to Honduras. We never got to the mainland, which I believe is 30 miles southwest.

It’s no secret to any of my friends that I’m sick of traveling. When people hear about my job, they marvel at how fantastic it sounds, and I admit, it is a great job. I’m lucky to be able to see all of these places that I would have probably never seen otherwise. I had never been out of the country before I took this job – now I’ve been to five different countries, which I know isn’t a lot, but in one year, that’s an accomplishment. And I’ve gone for free to each and every one… and have gotten paid to be there, have been issued per diem for each country so that I basically don’t have to spend any of my own money if I don’t want to. So yes, that part of it is cool. But I miss gina, I miss Noodle, and I miss my friends. Some of my friends, my closest friends, people that I like to call my best friends, I haven’t seen them in months. My life really is on hold until I’m done with this job.

I’m digressing. I wanted to talk about Roatan. I was nervous about coming here. It’s a developing country, and the Travel Clinic pumped me full of inoculations before I left: typhoid, Hepatitis A, and a tetanus shot just for safety. I also am taking malaria pills. I was told not to drink the water, to even avoid drinking anything with ice in it. I was also told to avoid anything not cooked: salads, raw vegetables, etc. There was even a warning about drinking from bottles – Honduras recycles their bottles by rinsing them out and using them again. It’s not at all uncommon to ask for a Coke and get a bottle with a rusty top, or ask for a Port Royal (local beer) and get a bottle with a paper towel wrapped around the top so that you could wipe the bottle off before you drink it. On top of this, everything I read said to not even brush your teeth with the water that comes out of the faucet. They also suggested you not buy local bottled water – internationally bottled water is best, because you can more guarantee that it’s been purified. And when we got here, Mike my camera guy told me to keep my mouth closed in the shower, which at first I thought, uh… why would I have my mouth open in the shower? And then I took a shower, and realized it’s kind of hard to shower with your mouth totally closed the whole time.

We landed on a runway similar to a domestic airport I’ve been to that I can’t remember now, but we were over water until the very last second. You didn’t see land until the wheels hit it, and the pilot slammed on the brakes. I’ve never experienced a plane slow down so quickly. Our production assistant Omar was waiting for us. Omar was born in Honduras, he’s middle aged with friendly eyes and a boyish smile. He reminds me of my Uncle Mark. He helped us load the van and we were off to the hotel.

We’re staying at a little resort owned and operated by an American couple. It's a nice place, but it's more "beachside cabin" than it is "beachside resort." We each got our own little cabin, and I can see the water from my front door; it’s about a 30 second walk to the water’s edge. There’s a hammock on every front porch. It’s a very relaxing place, except for all of the mosquitoes and sand fleas. They give you an empty bucket and encourage you to fill it with water so that you can rinse your feet off before you go into your cabin so that you don’t bring the sand fleas in with you. They also leave two towels on your bed so that you always have something to wipe your feet off so that the bugs don’t get into bed with you. My pillowcases smelled a little musty the first few days, but as soon as I told the staff about it, they replaced my sheets with fresh-smelling ones. Overall, the beds are pretty comfortable.


View from my room.


View from my porch.


From the hotel bar.

Technology is spotty. The internet did not work for the first three days, then it worked very well for three days, and now is not working again. There are no phones in the rooms. Oddly, there are televisions with pretty decent cable, but the furnishings in the cabin are wicker and do not make for comfortable sitting to view TV. The cell phone my company issued me sometimes would dial out, and sometimes it wouldn’t. Some numbers it would let me dial no problem – others, not so much. Needless to say, I felt very disconnected.

We were told when we got here that it had been raining for a week, and the forecast was calling for more rain. The road leading to our hotel, which is between a quarter mile and a half mile long, coming from the main road, was totally flooded.


Road leading to our hotel.

Omar slowly navigated his van down this road every day we were here; some days it was in three inches of water, some days almost a foot. After the first few days of rain, we started to see ducks swimming around on the road and in the adjacent flooded lot. There is a little house on stilts right before our hotel. The land surrounding the house has been completely flooded since we got here. Yesterday I saw someone on the porch of the house washing clothes in a washtub with a washboard, and hanging them up to dry. I wonder if they left their house all week… you couldn’t pay me to walk through that water.

The roads really have no names; they’re referred to by where they lead. “Meet me at the corner of Flowers Bay and West End.” Those are two neighborhoods probably 7 kilometers apart, but the roads in and out of them do meet at some point.

I feel incredibly spoiled and out of place here. A lot of the houses are in such a bad state of disrepair, crumbling under their own weight. All week I’ve seen children, ranging from five to fifteen, walking around trying to sell stuff to tourists, and I wonder what their childhood is really like. I saw a three or four year old little girl playing at the end of a very long driveway or private road, all by herself, right alongside the traffic. I saw a brother and a sister, probably six and four, alongside the road in another place, clearly far from anyone’s house, looking around in the grass. Kids walking barefoot over gravel, not wincing at all. And men riding in trucks on their way to work – pick up trucks, with one guy driving and six to ten men in the bed of the truck. I made a comment to Omar about how dangerous that is and how it’s illegal in the states, and he said, “It’s illegal here, but it’s not really enforced. These people have no other way to get to work – it’s either this or a cab, and they can’t afford a cab.”

And my god, the dogs. There are stray dogs everywhere. It was similar in Curacao, but I just spent more time here and I can’t believe how many dogs are roaming around. When we arrived, there were two little puppies on the porch next to mine. Their mom had given birth to six, and four of them died in the flood that happened before we arrived. These two were left, and mom was roaming around somewhere, apparently forgetful that she had just given birth. The puppies couldn’t even walk yet – their eyes weren’t open. They scooted around and cuddled with each other on a towel. And all over the island, there are dogs that are left to fend for themselves. I know dogs are animals and usually they have no trouble fending for themselves, but on an island where some humans have a hard time buying food, you better believe that the dogs are having a hard time finding the food. Skinny, ribs-poking-through-their-sides dogs. I saw one puppy, probably six months old, following around it’s mama. Both dogs so painfully skinny, but the puppy could barely walk because he was so undernourished. I think of my dog at home who gets treats all day and has a full dish of food whenever she wants it next to a bowl of filtered water, is treated every month so that she doesn’t get fleas, has probably six toys, an endless supply of rawhide bones, and sleeps in bed with us every single night under the covers. I think of how she would manage, out on her own here, and I get sick to my stomach. If I’m ever wealthy, I want to start an organization that comes to islands and offers money to the locals to bring the dogs to get spayed or neutered, and possibly education on taking care of dogs.


A pooch that hung around our hotel. We called him Chief.


Abandoned puppies, napping on the porch next to my cottage.


Local pooch with collar.

There are several paved roads that run through the island, but a lot of roads are just left to the elements and are muddy and almost impassable. Omar lost his spare tire on two separate occasions in muddy, waterlogged sections of roads. Other roads are just so bumpy, it’s like you’re on a ride at an amusement park trying to cross them – think the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland.


West End Road - West End is the touristy nightlife spot.


Our PA tries to find the strongest spot of the road where his van will pass safely.

I learned that it’s not just the tourists that are advised to not drink the water. No one drinks the water out of the tap. I mean, I say that LA tap water is dirty, but I can drink it if I need to. I can brush my teeth with it. I learned that it’s easy to find a guy to do construction on your house all day for $10 a day.

I enjoyed my hammock one day for an hour and by the time I came back inside, I had nine mosquito bites on my elbow alone. My arms and legs are currently covered with angry little welts that itch all the time.



***

There's no real ending to this, which is why I never posted it. I didn't get malaria, and I ended up having a great time. I guess the ending would be that despite everything I said, I would totally go back. How can you ignore these sunsets?

No Country for Old Men

When I tell people I travel for work, most people say, “You’re so lucky, that’s so fantastic!” What people don’t understand is how lonely it really can be. You’re at the airport by yourself, you’re at the hotel by yourself, you’re driving by yourself, etc., etc. I finally found something that breaks up my trips nicely. I’ve taken to going to the movies while I’m out of town. I’ll go to Yahoo! Movies, type in the zip code of my hotel, and figure out what’s playing where. I’ll pick my movies based on a few things: what will I NOT see at home? What movies are playing that Gina might not want to see? What am I willing to see by myself?

This past Oscar weekend found me in Seattle. I was originally excited to go to Seattle because I have a great friend who lives up there. When I told her my travel plans, she regretfully told me she was heading to San Francisco the same weekend. Sigh. Anyway, as it was Oscar weekend, and I had only seen one Oscar film, I told myself I’d go see “No Country for Old Men,” since it seemed to be the favorite to win. I did have some concern that maybe this wasn’t a movie I should be seeing by myself, but I put the concern aside and went to the Pacific Place AMC in downtown Seattle and took in a 7:10 show.

I had heard/read so many great things about this movie, I would be lying if I said my hopes weren’t high. I also have enjoyed the Coen Brothers’ offerings through the years, with the exception of “O Brother Whereart Thou,” and even that movie was not a movie I hated, but rather a movie that I felt was overrated.

Possible Spoiler warning

The movie has three main characters: Llewelyn Moss, played by Josh Brolin; Anton Chigur, played by Javier Bardem; and Ed Tom Bell, played by Tommy Lee Jones. Ed Tom Bell is the weatherworn sheriff of the small Texas town, Llewelyn is the typical lower-class huntin’ Texan, and Anton Chigur is the local devil incarnate. The movie spends a whole lot of time following Llewelyn and Anton on the most terrifying cat and mouse game ever, one where the mouse has a suitcase full of 2 million dollars, and the cat has a compressed-air cattle gun that he’s not afraid to use… on people. On the fringes and peppered throughout is Ed Tom Bell commenting on life, sheriffhood, and getting old. The movie is beautifully shot, and brilliantly directed. The way the Coen Brothers handle suspense is Hitchockian at its worst and unparalleled at its best.

Here’s the problem with this movie, and this is where the spoiler will come in. This movie is not about the cat and mouse game. This movie is about Ed Tom Bell getting older and being disappointed in life, but being totally unafraid of what’s next. The meatiest scences, to me, were the scenes where Ed Tom was expounding on the times already gone. I mean, the movie is called “No Country for Old Men.” “Old Men” is Ed Tom Bell. It’s not Anton Chigur or Llewelyn Moss. And to me, the problem was that the Coens didn’t want to decide what kind of movie they were making, and it’s almost like they fleshed out the two ancillary stories instead of the one that really matters. And what irks me even more is I feel like they did this because they could, because they are the Coens, and they will do as they please, thank you very much. This was confirmed by the way Tall Coen reacted to getting the award. Sure his words made him seem thankful, but his manner was so unimpressed with the whole thing. And I know they’re not Hollywood, but they just had the better part of 6500 of their peers tell them that they’re movie was the best movie they had seen all year. You cut out the red carpet, the cameras, the glamour, the tuxes, the designers, the jewelry, and even the golden statue, that’s still a pretty big deal. Tall Coen said that when he and Short Coen were younger, they used to make little movies on their own about whatever they wanted, and it feels like they still do that, and they’re grateful for that opportunity. It’s true – they just make whatever movie they want, and it doesn’t matter that you don’t see when one of the main characters gets killed, or one minute you see the bad guy behind the door and the next second he’s nowhere to be found. It doesn’t matter that you’re telling the wrong story in the movie – it doesn’t matter because you’re the COENS. You can do whatever you want.

Having said all of that, I liked the movie overall, I just didn’t think it was anywhere close to the best movie of the year. I’m not purporting to know what the hell I’m talking about, but as a moviegoer and someone who appreciates character driven movies, this movie disappointed me. The Ed Tom Bell storyline was great, and I wanted more of it… I’m curious to find out what story the book tells.

In case you’re wondering, I wanted Juno to win. Yes, it was the only other film I saw, but I loved every minute of it, and can’t think of a better movie I saw all year. Next order of business: join Producer’s Guild so that I don’t have to leave my house to see movies next awards season.

Slowly but surely.

I've been thinking a lot about this blog lately. I know it's hard to tell that, from my crazy lack of posting, but it's on my mind a lot.

The thing is, there are several things happening in my life right now that I can't really share in this space, and these things are kind of big, so it's hard to find other things to talk about. Everything else seems... well, trivial. But I'm starting to think that I'm using this as an easy way out of a commitment I made to no one but myself, and that's to write in this space as much as I can, to keep my mind working and moving in a creative direction. And truthfully, there is no one that wants this updated more than I do. Therefore, I am going to make an effort to start posting with some sort of regularity again... if for no other reason than to satisfy myself.

No promises, everybody... but hopefully you'll hear from me just a little more often from here on out.

It already feels good to be back.

Noodle and Rogue

At Christmas, we finally got to meet my sister Jessie's dog, Rogue, a 30 pound four month old Great Dane Boxer mix.

Hiatus

Hi loyal reader(s),

I've completely abandoned my blog as of late, and I just wanted to pop on here and let you all know that there are reasons for this abandonment. I plan to resume regular posting after the first of the year. There's a lot going on right now, things that are demanding every waking minute of my attention and, as it turns out, every sleeping minute as well. I'm hoping the next few weeks will bring some sort of calm over me, and I'll be back January 1st (ish) with plenty of new and exciting stuff.

Thanks,
Katie

Happy Halloween!

Wrestlemania!

Here are some videos from this morning's Wrestlemania, starring Knuckles Noodle and Hulk Logan.





Don't worry everybody! It's all in fun! No one was hurt!

Also, to be fair to both dogs, no winner was declared. They both fell asleep after these were taken.

Sleepover!

Noodle has a guest for the next week at our house. Her name is Logan. She's sleeping over while her mom is in Hawaii.






(That's gina's leg in between them.)



They are pretty hilarious when they wrestle. I'm going to try to capture some video at some point this weekend.

Prelude to a kid.

I was enjoying the last bit of a bowl of cereal this morning on the couch, watching the fire coverage, chatting on the phone with a friend. Noodle comes trotting out of the office, where gina is playing with Shelfari. Noodle comes to my feet and looks up at me. I'm looking at her, talking to the friend, and a split second later, she jumps onto my lap. The bowl of cereal is balanced on my left leg... she is now on my right.

"NOODLE! Get down!"

Sensing she's done something wrong, she hurriedly figures her best way out, which was to turn around on my lap, thereby sticking two paws IN my cereal bowl, and then jumping onto the NEW couch, with two milky paws, and then off of the couch to the ground. The wreckage - two milky paw prints on the couch, and milk all over my pants.

Taking the bull(sh*t) by the horns.

There are two things in my life that have been consistent. Two powers that started early and have never gone away. They are:

1. Writing, or as the writing tournament in middle school called it, the Power of the Pen, and
2. Procrastination

Admittedly, I've always been MUCH better at the latter, and only good at the former when I get into a groove - which is, to say, when I actually do it and do it a lot and under deadlines and for eyes other than my own. Ever since Mrs. Ames made us keep a journal in second grade, I've loved writing. Every subsequent "A" on English papers made me love it even more, and I've still never forgotten that "B" I got on an Art History paper in college (who did that woman think she was, giving me that "B"?? She's an ART HISTORY teacher, what does she know about writing??).

I've been wholly disappointed in my writing for the past, let's say, four to five years. When I do it, I don't like what I produce. When I don't do it, I feel... icky. There have been a magical few times where I'm doing it and doing it a lot, and I'm loving what I'm putting down on the page, and I experience a fulfillment I have never gotten out of any job, ever. These magical times are few and far between, and that annoys me. But then I always think, "Ah, I'll really commit to writing, starting next week."

The two consistencies in my life are not compatible.

Since no publisher is hounding me to turn in my manuscript on time, and since I am here and now publicly admitting my inability to discipline myself to write on my own, I've made the firm decision to participate in National Novel Writing Month. It starts at 12:01am on November 1st and ends at 11:59PM on November 30th. The goal is to write 50,000 words in one month (woo hoo - a novel!). To win, you simply have to write 50,000 words. You get a fancy certificate and the knowledge that hey, you just wrote a novel.

I'm sharing this with those of you that read this site, because I know by November 5th, I'll want to say, "Meh, I'll just do it next year." Two years ago, I told (made the mistake of telling?) my friend Wendy about NaNoWriMo (as it's called). Wendy is the one friend who writes that has never let me read her work. And I bet it's fantastic. In any case, the following November, on probably November 3rd, she called me and said, "How's your novel coming?" I laughed. "What novel?" "It's National Novel Writing Month!" I laughed even harder. "Oh, Wendy, you're HILARIOUS." Throughout the month, she kept asking how my novel was coming, even though she knew I wasn't writing one. She would give me updates on hers, the one she was writing at 11PM every night, after both kids and her husband were in bed, after all the family maintenance was done. And I was too busy "sleeping" or "watching The Office" or "sleeping."

So this November, I'm doing it. And you (every last one of you) have to hold me accountable. Of course, I won't let you read the novel, because it's going to be absolute crap (which they encourage). But I will keep you posted on my word count. And I promise (to try) not to lie.

One week and change left...

Noodle at work

Sometimes Noodle comes to work with me. Here's her first day on the job:

On dog ownership.

I don't want this site to become solely about our dog, but she's completely changed our lives. I'm shocked at the effect she's had on me. I knew life would be different with her, but I was only thinking about it as the care taking part - where will she stay when we go out of town? How often will we have to walk her? How hard will it be to train her? In the weeks before she came, gina and I would get up in the morning and lounge around and have coffee and watch TV before work, and gina would say, "I'm going to miss mornings like this." I would sleepily agree... and certainly, since Noodle's arrival, I've only slept past 6:30 once. What I didn't expect was how little it would bother me. Everything I do for her, I do happily - even when she's not listening, even when she's vomiting in my car (she gets carsick pretty easily), even when she's restless at 5:30am because she needs to go outside - I never, ever resent her. I couldn't imagine resenting her.

I know she's a dog, and not a child. But I have to say, if I feel like this about a dog, I can't imagine what I'll feel like when we have children. Everything this dog does makes me laugh right out loud. I feel so overwhelmingly responsible for her and for her happiness, and because she makes me so happy, I only want to return the favor to her.

I fully admit, I never thought I'd feel this way about a dog. We took her to doggy day care today - Wagville in Los Angeles. She passed her evaluation last week with flying colors, and they told us we could bring her whenever we wanted. Not wanting to travel home to take her out at lunch time, I suggested to gina we take her today. First day of school! I heard myself saying to the receptionist, "You'll call me if something happens, right?" She smiled and said, "She'll be fine. Yes, we'll call you if something happens. But she'll be fine."

Wagville has a web cam so you can check in on the action. I checked it about 20 minutes after I dropped her off and didn't see her. Of course, I thought I saw her - there are probably 6 little tan dogs. However, when I actually DID see her, there was no mistaking her - a skinny little body with a surprisingly big head and a tail like a squirrel - bushy and straight up in the air. My heart literally leapt, and I felt myself smiling (almost stupidly). It's almost impossible to accurately describe the feeling I had at that moment.

Last week, I took Noodle to meet my friend Wendy's kids, Zoe (5) and Wyatt (4). I brought her in and introduced her to the kids, who were engrossed in a Barbie video. Wyatt looked at her, and then looked up at me grinning. He said, "You're a mother now!"

I had to agree with him.

Noodle at the park.

Adjusting to her new life.

I'm not sure if she likes it here...

After...

Noodle's first haircut turned out to be a bit of a shave. She was quite matted and noticeably itchy, so I told the groomer if he needed to shave her, he could. We were devasted to lose all of her adorable hair, but she seems much happier now, and she can actually see where she's going!

She has my color and gina's curls...

Introducing...



Noodle the poodle!

This is the newest member of our family. She arrived yesterday, in need of a serious hair cut, but I wanted to post these pictures before she gets her hair cut, because I can't promise she'll be this cute once the groomer gets a hold of her. She's pretty matted and clearly can't see very well... we might have to get her shaved and start from scratch with her hairdo.

My cousin from Florida brought her out here to live with us after her five boys declared they didn't really want a dog. We plan on spoiling her highly.

Stay tuned for many, many more pictures.

Happy coin purse

The logo from a Hungarian grocery store meets Photo Booth and extreme jet lag.

Morning in Budapest

From my hotel room.

Godson

My friend Kim has asked me to be her youngest son Brady's godmother. It's either because I was present at his birth and was one of the first people in the world to hold him, OR because he totally looks like he could be my kid.



Either way, I can't remember the last time I was this excited to go to church.

Thanks, Kim.

Tales from Smith Mountain Lake, Virigina

I'm shooting in a very rural but beautiful lake area in Virginia called Smith Mountain Lake. My crew is from DC, and I don't think any of us fully understood exactly what "rural" meant, until last night.

We headed out for dinner at 9pm, driving about 10 minutes to the nearest restaurant, only to find it was closed. And it's not like it had just closed. It clearly had been closed for a half hour to 45 minutes. We kept driving another 20 minutes or so until we found what looked like some activity in a strip mall. We parked at a pizza place and went to the door to find out if they were still open. It was closed... but the waitress saw us come up the door. She opened the door for us.

"Is there anywhere around here we can have dinner?" my camera guy asked.

She looked at him, looked at her watch, and said in a southern drawl, "Darling, it's 9:30. I suggest you find yourself a grocery store."

Travel Tips

Dear Guy Sitting in the Row Behind Me on the Airplane,

When deplaning, it is common knowledge that you are supposed to let the people in the rows in front of you step out first. Everyone wants to get off the plane just as badly as you do... probably more so than you do because, as you have made perfectly clear by your blatant disregard for this, one of the simplest and most widely known of all airplane rules, you most likely only travel for pleasure, and at that, probably only once every other year.

The Gold Preferred status I hold isn't exactly a "thank you" from US Airways so much as an apology for repeatedly putting up with all the bullshit that comes with flying the friendly skies.

Enjoy your flight,
Katie

The Brave One

I decided last week that a good way to utilize the many hours I find myself alone and away from home is to go to the movies to see films I would otherwise undoubtedly miss. Last week in Alabama, I saw Superbad. Tonight, I went to see The Brave One.

It's no Silence of the Lambs. But really, what is? And what will ever be? Nothing. I'd give it a B+, and really only because the storyline is so unbelievable. However, Terrence Howard and Jodie Foster both gave great performances, and Nicky Katt as Detective Vitale stole pretty much every scene he was in. My favorite exchange:

Det. Vitale: This guy's got a rap sheet longer than my dick.
Det. Mercer (Howard): So, no priors?

I love Jodie Foster. Love, love, love. I used to have the movie poster from Maverick hanging up in my bedroom in high school. I have to say though, the older she gets, there's one thing she cannot do. And that one thing is pretend that she's straight.

I can't remember ever seeing Jodie Foster gayer than she is in this movie. Sure, she looks like she's probably loves Naveen Andrews (who plays David, her boyfriend) - the smiles, the touchiness - but this could all be a new friend crush or something. This woman is clearly a lesbian.

Now, there are some lesbians who could probably easily play straight women on film. Portia DiRossi and Leisha Hailey are both great examples. Ellen DeGeneres? No. k.d. lang? Never. We can officially add Jodie to that list.

I guess we can't fully blame Jodie for how overtly gay she seems in this movie. First of all, everyone is pretty sure she's gay in real life. Secondly, whoever designed her "look" for this movie clearly wanted to appeal to the lesbian in all of us. Her hair is the shagginess of her "Freaky Friday" days and the length of her "Accused" days. Neither look is very feminine. To top it off, she's constantly carrying around this messenger bag - never a purse - and she's always dressed like she's hitting up ladies night at the Normandie room - little trendy tee shirts, low waisted jeans, comfortable shoes that could most likely crush your skull. Not to mention, what little makeup she does wear was clearly not put on by her. There's a scene where she's putting lip gloss on and she might as well be smearing tar on her face - she seems that unaccustomed to such trappings as lip gloss. The look in her eyes is, "Okay, it's just like chapstick, only with a wand instead of a tube. You can DO this, Jodie."

I used to think Jodie was getting hotter with every movie she made. Turns out, she's just getting gayer... which for me, equals hotter.

Life without a bonus room.

I don't talk a lot about work on this blog, for very good reason, but my job takes me all around the world into different people's houses. Seeing how other people live really makes you examine how YOU live. And more often than not, I'm flabbergasted at how much space people want and think they need. I guess the more realistic thing to say is, I'm amazed at how much house people can get for their money in almost everywhere except Los Angeles.

I remember the first time I heard the term "bonus room." My friend Lindsay was having a birthday party at her house in Mission Viejo and she was giving us a tour of the house. I don't remember specifically what she was referring to, but she informed us that the location of such-and-such was in the bonus room. She showed us the room, and boy howdy, was it a bonus room. There was no other way to describe it. It literally had no purpose but to be full of all the bonus stuff you happen to own. Lindsay's had two guitars, a drum set, a bar, and a pull down movie screen projector setup. My reaction was simply to say, "Bonus!"

Many of these houses I see all over the country, specifically in the middle part of the country, have these bonus rooms. One such room in one such house was literally bigger than The Treehouse (mine and gina's studio apartment). It was 650 square feet of play space for three small children.

It's impossible for me to see these houses and wonder what mine and gina's life would be like if we owned one of these houses. These houses that are 3000+ square feet. I can't say that these houses are too big, or too extravagant, because they're priced lower than our 1000 square foot condo. There's something to be said for having that much space. People say they need it, but the truth is, they want it. And who wouldn't?

I just can't wrap my head around that much space. I grew up in a house with a mom, a dad, two sisters, 1100 square feet, three bedrooms, and one bathroom. I remember specifically having to announce to the whole house, "I'm going to take a shower now, please don't anyone run any water," and then STORMING out of the bathroom in a towel into the kitchen and yelling at my mom, "I had ONE request, to NOT run any water, could you not wait FIVE MINUTES to do the dishes??" (That was clearly during my bitchy phase.) I remember having to strategically plan when to wake up so that I could have enough bathroom time before or after my mom, but never during, because the bathroom was extremely small (who knew there was such a thing as a DOUBLE VANITY?), and my mom obviously got bathroom priority. I had never even heard of a walk in closet until I was probably 9 years old... and I certainly didn't think they were common.

When I'm at home in our condo in Los Angeles, I never crave more space. I feel like we have plenty. We have two bedrooms and TWO BATHROOMS (a first for me), a small kitchen but one with plenty of counter space, a walk-in closet in one room and a huge closet in the other room, and a living room/dining room area with enough space to entertain. I think to myself, we can totally have two kids while we're living here. This is plenty of space. This is a mere 100 square feet less than my parents' home.

Then I travel. I go to other places. And I see how your life can be made infinitely easier by having more space. Your kids don't have to share a room. Your kids can have their own bathroom. You can have your own bathroom. And your guests? They can have another bathroom. You can have a room dedicated solely to TV watching, pool playing, air hockey, or even Twister. You can have a formal living room (although I really don't understand the purpose of that), a family room, and a huge kitchen with an island. You can have a huge back yard with your very own in-ground pool (my friends in southern California make fun of me for calling them in-ground pools - I don't think they've ever seen an above ground pool). You can have enough space for both of your cars to fit in the garage, plus jet skis, motorcycles, work station, and maybe even darts. Your house can be the house your children's friends come to to have sleepovers, pool parties, birthday parties, picnics, play dates.

My mind doesn't stop there. Because the truth is, for gina and I to buy a house like this, we'd have to leave Los Angeles. And leaving Los Angeles most certainly means moving back to Ohio. I think of what that would be like - being so close to our families. I day dream about my mom being able to visit whenever she wants, about us being able to see gina's nieces whenever we want. Christmases, Thanksgivings, birthday parties, BBQs... all with our families. Our kids growing up with their cousins.

Somehow, this is only appealing to me when I'm away from Los Angeles. Then I get back to the usually mild weather, the palm trees, the saltwater in the air. I see the mountains, I smell the flowers. It's always a transition I have to go through, but I realize that when it comes down to it, I love living there. And my dream house isn't a 3000 square foot house in Ohio. It's my friend Wendy's house - an 1800 square foot Spanish style house in Hancock Park with hardwood floors, four bedrooms, two and a half baths, a fireplace, a doggy door and a fenced-in back yard, in a neighborhood where people know each other. It's a house you can't hide from one another in, but where there's always enough room for everyone. This transition from anywhere else back to LA is almost as hard actually being away. It does, however, help me keep things in perspective.

(I still think a bonus room would be cool.)

Some highlights

1. Alive and visiting - I'm definitely still alive over here, despite my severe lack of posting. I've been traveling for work so extensively that I feel like I'm a visitor in my own life. Not much has happened over the past month and a half that didn't involve me getting on an airplane. Therefore, not much to talk about.

2. Katie's tour of the Southeast - Somehow, work has repeatedly sent me to the southeast during what must have been one of the hottest summers on record. I've been in the heat and humidity all summer and never realized the benefits and necessity of sweating more than I do now. Even the triple digit temps in LA recently have been a breath of stifled air compared to what I've been working in all summer. I type this now from the French Quarter in New Orleans, where I'll be working one day before driving over to Mobile, Alabama. Yeah - I'm not kidding. I'm the master of the southeast. I gotta say though, my skin's never been better. And I actually have a tan.

3. Birthdays - My birthday is next week, and I'm throwing myself what I think will be my last big birthday party. This will be my fourth "invite everyone I know" party, and since I'm turning 29, I think this is a good time to stop. Maybe I'll change my mind, but the turnout this year isn't looking as good as it has been in the past, and I feel like it's a good idea to go out with a bang. My 30th birthday might be a trip to Vegas... I haven't decided. I have a year to figure that out - thank God.

4. Home sweet home - Our condo is coming along swimmingly. We LOVE it. In gina's words: "I feel like a weight has been lifted that I didn't even know I was carrying." We're ridiculously happy with it.

5. Teaser - stay tuned for some semi-big news that I'll share in the next two weeks or so. No, I'm not pregnant.

The one where I'm (pleasantly) surprised

This past weekend, Gina decided to throw a party in my honor. It's not my birthday, but I haven't been in town for most of the last month, and apparently people were missing me. I was also missing these people. My married-with-kids friend Wendy went out of town for a few weeks and Patrick was housesitting, so with Gina's permission from Wendy, she planned a little get together at their absolutely perfect house with their absolutely perfect yard and beyond absolutely perfect dog. I was thrilled - a party which I didn't have to plan, cook for, worry about... it was all Gina. I was impressed.

Party day (July 14) went off well - we had a really busy morning, as I was leaving the next day for Tampa for work. I had errands, a guitar lesson, shoe shopping, and a pedicure to get out of the way before I could even start to pack for the trip. Not to mention - we're moving this coming Saturday, and being the FANTASTIC girlfriend that I am, I'm going to be out of town the whole packing week. Needless to say, I was feeling incredibly guilty and wanted to pack something, ANYTHING, in prepartation for the move. (Let me insert here that Gina has been nothing but a rockstar about the fact that she's doing most of the packing by herself. Perhaps she's cursing me right now as I type, but she hasn't let on at all that she's upset. Reason number 643 why I love her, you see.)

After a trip to the grocery store for party food, we arrived at Wendy's where I promptly threw in a load of laundry. (Let me insert HERE that when I get back to Los Angeles, we will forever more have free laundry in our own house!!) Allyson and Lisa were the first to arrive, and they started decorating the back yard with white twinkle lights. I was becoming more and more impressed at how much thought went into this little party - all for me! Loving it.

We started drinking, and more people arrived. We were listening to music in the back yard, courtesy of a playlist Gina made specifically for this party. I looked at her like a proud parent - Gina is NOT one to plan parties. That falls under my duties and responsibilities. I was proud of her newfound party-throwing ability. Everyone was having fun as the night went on, and they even started dancing! It was a sight to behold - a bunch of gay singles and couples dancing, and one straight couple in the middle. When the song "At Last" came on, Gina finally pursuaded me to dance with her.

We have a running joke (although I use "joke" really loosely) that we don't really have an anniversary. We were long distance for so long, and then broken up, and then confused... so Gina often will tell people we've only been together six months - even though it's been on and off for about five years. As we were dancing, she said, "I think we should make today our anniversary." I thought for a second and shrugged: "Okay. 'Cause of Bastille Day?" "Sure," she said.

She then reminded me that we had talked about having some sort of commitment ceremon/not-a-wedding-but-sort-of-a-wedding-...-an-illegal-one-at-that, and she said she thinks we should do it next year. This was something we had discussed several times in the past, and once again, I agreed that this was a good idea. She then spun me around in that little dancey way you spin people, and when I turned around, she was on her knee and gave me a diamond ring. A Diamond Ring! And asked, "Would you be my... um... partner... of... uh, domesticity?" - at a loss for what to call me. I looked around to all of my friends as if to say, "Would you look at this? She's proposing! Can you guys believe it?!" But they all looked at me with knowing smiles, and then it dawned on me - they were all in on it. Every one knew about, every moment was orchestrated just so, and it was all done without me knowing. I have never, ever been more surprised. There's a line in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, when Clark sees his cousin Eddie on his front yard. Eddie asks if he's surprised, and Clark says, "Eddie, I wouldn't be more surprised if I woke up with my head sewn to the carpet."

In one surreal, amazing, unforgettable moment, I became Engaged. My first reaction when I saw the ring was to say, "What is that? Is that REAL?" Gina assured me that it's very, very real. When I told my friend Chrissie, she said, "Have you set a date?" Me: "A date? For what? Oh, the ceremony? Uh, no... I guess not." I'm still reeling at how well Gina pulled this off, and how surprised I was, and how perfect that night was. And every time I look at this ring on my finger, I am surprised again. It's gorgeous and unexpected, just the way life should be.

I wanted to take a picture of it to show you. Turns out, it's not easy to take a picture of a diamond ring. And the more I think about it, the more I think that's appropriate. The event, the gravity... it's something you'd never be able to photograph anyway.

Here's an attempt, with my iPhone:

Giovanni at 15 months

Gina's nephew in his back yard in Holland.

Homeowners

Look what we get the keys to July 20th:









We now (almost) own 1000 square feet of real estate in Los Angeles. It has 2 master bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, 11 ft ceilings with crown molding, a small but updated kitchen with the following conveniences we don't currently enjoy: microwave, dishwasher, WASHER/DRYER. It has a "quaint" (TINY) balcony, underground parking, central air/heat, a swimming pool, and an exercise room. This happened more quickly than we could have ever imagined. We're trying not to think about the fact that we just moved into this place four months ago, or that we're more than tripling our outgoing payments every month (trust me - this isn't saying much, with how little rent we currently pay). We are only thinking of Our Home. And we're thrilled.

I feel like I've been writing this post for a year.

My friend Kim and I were talking a while ago, several months ago in fact, before this little rascal came along (her beautiful baby boy Brady - her second son), about my blogging habits. She reprimanded me during one my particularly dry spells. "You need to post more." All I could say was, "Yeah."

I forget that I actually have (some) people who read this and who might want to read more of it. I finally admitted to her that I've run out of not-so-important things to talk about, and I'm not quite sure I'm ready to talk about what I really want to talk about, and in this process of losing all of the non-important things in my life, I feel like I've lost my wit, my charm, and my grasp of sentence structure and of the English language. If I weren't traveling all over the world, I'd certainly have more time to post, but what would I post? Me standing in front of the Hollywood sign? Or, more appropriately, me arm in arm with the hookers that parole my street on Friday nights?

Well, I've finally decided to come clean. The truth is, I'm ready for my life of living for myself to be over. I'm ready to live for other things - for my relationship, and for my children. Yep. Children. One of the wonderful things gina and I have in common is our strong, overwhelming desire to become parents. We also want a dog, a house, and new cars. And we're both wanting it all right now. At the same time. We can only compare it to one of those tile puzzles where's there's only one piece missing, and you just have to figure out how to, without removing any tiles, make a picture.

Recently, the conversations about kids and houses and dogs and cars has amped up quite a bit between gina and I. And we're finding we're excited, frustrated, overwhelmed, nervous, and thrilled beyond belief. But the important thing is, we're at the same place. It has taken us so long to get in the same place, geographically and mentally, and we've arrived, and it feels indescribable. It's amazing, really.

After speaking with a mortgage broker, we've determined the next step should be trying to buy something, and start putting our money into something we own as opposed to something we're renting, albiet for a ridiculously low amount of money. We're both afraid of waiting, and we're both afraid of not waiting. But the waiting finally seems more scary than the not waiting, so we feel like that's a good sign. We're also motivated by the thought of a dishwasher! And a washer/dryer! And PARKING!

More important than any of this is that we have room for our family. At this rate, we might even get married. Weird, huh? We've come a long way from band camp.

Is it me, or is this kind of weird?

On my way to work this morning, I saw a Toyota Prius on the side of the highway, out of gas.