My Idea of Scary

This pictures makes me laugh every single time.

Whenever I do a lot of work during the weekend, I don't want to do anything on Monday. This sucks for oh-so many reasons.

I attempted to place a cute little bowler hat on Filomena, but she gave me such a pitiful look--I didn't have the heart to assemble the rest of her Charlie Chaplin costume. So much for Halloween.

The Longest Day Ever

Today seemed like the Longest Day Ever--all due to the end of daylight savings. I don't mind so so much. I did manage to cross off a lot on my To-Do List. And take a two hour nap.

My parents came by today for a quick visit. But they weren't visiting me or G. It was all about Filomena. This is her "You talkin' to me?" face. Gotta love a dog that can give you such attitude.

Only one more day before NaNoWriMo starts. I wrote out a very basic outline and some character development, um, but that's it. I think I should set a personal goal for the word count--25,000 words, which comes out to about 85 pages (I think). That's do-able. My master's thesis (which is the longest document I've written) was fifty pages, so it might be a stretch.

G. is really excited for me; it's good encouragement. He keeps saying he wants to tell people he meets that his girlfriend is writing a novel ("My girlfriend teaches history and is currently working on her first novel..."). Problem is, he doesn't meet new people. Ah well, it's a nice gesture.

My birthday-present-to-myself is on its way. It's expensive, yet functional. Let's keep our collective fingers crossed that they fit.

Another break from the blogging. Life is picking up, always seems to happen around October and Halloween. Then Birthday turmoil, Thanksgiving, list making for appropriate Christmas gifts, the semester ends in a flurry of grading, Santa pays a visit and before you've thrown away the wrapping paper and broken in your new slippers, the new year makes an appearance. The pace is too fast, but there's no way to stop it. I've also taken on the extra responsibility with my sister of planning a big party for my mom's birthday in December. Big parties are a lot of work and money. Yikes. Let me just say that if and when I get married, it's all about eloping. And that's a promise.

I've spent a lot of time thinking. Working it all out in my head, making sense of what's coming, putting my ducks in a row, that sort of thing. Mostly it's been about how I am going to deal with the Birthday. Twenty-seven isn't really such a big deal; at least it's not one of those traditionally dreaded birthdays like 30 or 50. However, birthdays in general are always a big deal for me. I relate the adding of another year to your age as a point of change and change of any kind, actually, is difficult for me to handle. I chalk it up to the fact that I moved around a lot as a kid. Anyhoo, I didn't handle 26 very well and don't want a repeat experience this year. I want to celebrate 27 in such a positive way that my happiness books would be proud. I want to emerge from November feeling super rather than disappointed.

Here's one result of all that thinking:

• I'm going to write a novel. Ambitious, yes. I want to take advantage of the fact that November is National Writing Month. I hope to compose (as close to) 50,000 words this month with the help of NaNoWriMo. See, I've always wanted to write fiction. I used to write when I was younger, then just fell out of the habit. Lately, though, for the past year or so, I feel like I need to write. I have a novel in me, floating around, somewhat formed, still a little hazy. I even started this blog as a way to get the writing juices flowing. Joining up with NaNoWriMo is an opportunity to explore this urge to write. I'm taking the chance that my writing will be utter crap and it very well could turn out that way, but it's better to find out, no? I can't let fear stop me from trying. To allow fear to immobilize me, especially around my birthday, would be just disastrous. I'm concerned that I don't have that motivation anymore. I haven't been able to muster up enough motivation to follow through on a number of goals I set for myself, so there is the worry that this project could fall through the cracks, too. I could be setting myself up for some major disappointment. But I could also be embarking on a most wonderful, satisfying experience. I need to test it out. I need to see what I can do.

Adventures in Dogwalking

Don't be fooled by that innocent look. It's turned into a nightmare to walk Filo.

The landscape guys at my apartment complex put down manure/soil/fertilizer mix all over the grassy areas of the ENTIRE complex. Wouldn't be such a problem if I didn't have a dog who LOVES to roll around in dirt, bird carcass, runny bird poo, and mud. She sniffs this stuff out on our walks and if we happen to be, oh I don't know, enjoying the cool breeze on our faces or admiring the changing leaves of a tree, she'll plop herself onto the ickyness and roll. G. and I have to be very vigilant on walks--aside from these dangers, we have to watch out for Splenda and a group of cats that mock Filo whenever she passes. I know, I know, she's a dog, they like to get dirty. But she manages to transfer all that gunk to our sofa and bed unless I give her a bath, which is no easy task because she fights it and I'm lazy.

Speaking of lazy, I have successfully stretched out morning wake-up time to 9 am--and beyond. I don't have class until the afternoon, but I do have lecture revisions, grading, and planning that should be accomplished during the day. And I've always been told that an early start is the best way to start the day. Unfortunately, I go to bed late. My entire life I have fought against "night person" behavior, yet bedtime is still midnight. All I have to do to be healthier and happier is exercise and go to bed early (and wake up early). Simple as that. So does choosing not to do those two things make me stubborn--or stupid?

All Quiet on the Blogging Front

Yikes, it's been a week since I posted anything. I was busy closing out my 8-week course, which involves a lot of grading and reviewing and averaging. Overall, the class came out average. I didn't have to make any difficult decisions about students who failed--well, there is one case where a student did not attend the last week of class and did not take the final last Thursday. He emailed me on Sunday to ask when he could make up the final. Uh, never 'cause I already turned in the final grades (they were due almost immediately). I asked him if he had a legitimate reason for missing the final, which admittedly was a way out for him to jump on the chance of doing something to rectify his grade. One word response email: "I got sick." So, that's it? Can I justify to my dean, faculty coordinator, registrar's office my decision to give this guy one more chance based on "I got sick"??? Yesh, give me something I can work with! I'm leaning towards a response along the lines of "Sucks for you," but...

Halloween is coming up. I decorated the front door area with lights and a ---oooo, scary----skeleton. I want to give candy out; the problem is Filomena doesn't like people knocking on the door. Gets her all 'riled up. And she might already be hyper if I dress her in costume. Oh, yeah, I'm going there. Is it any kookier to dress up a cat as opposed to a dog? I'm picturing Crazy Cat Lady from the Simpson's and...well, me.

Time for a Filo walk and then work, work, work.

10 minutes and counting...

In an attempt to reach productivity levels not seen since grad school, I'm timing myself on a loud kitchen timer. 45 minutes straight concentration on task, 15 minutes to get water, pee, play with Filo, and space out before starting the timer again. So far, pretty effective method of actually accomplishing my work. I even did work this past weekend for extended periods of time. Wow.

Recently took stock of our drinking glasses. We are down to two large glasses. We started out with six about six months ago. This isn't the first time we managed to break every single glass in our cupboard. The last incident was a total freak accident where a small wall plaque of the Virgen fell from the top of the bulletin board above my desk and crashed directly into a full glass of water I had just set down. I could read it as a spiritual sign of some sort, or just as more evidence of our bad luck with real glasses. Come to think of it, I am the only one who breaks the glasses, so it's more like evidence of my increasing clumsiness. I could buy plastic cups, but that's just wrong. Shouldn't two 27 year old able-bodied adults be able to keep a set of glasses longer than a year? Shouldn't they???

It's October 10, which means in four days it will be October 14, which means in exactly one month I'll be 27. Trying-not-to-yet-already-dealing with the age thing. More to come...at least now you have time to plan my birthday gift.

G. and V. Show Their Spirit

G. and V. Show Their Spirit
Originally uploaded by NessandFilo.

I've posted to Flickr a set of pictures from the UTEP vs UNM game on September 24. I know, I know, they're a little old, so sue me.

Get 'er done

There is a large, loud, obnoxious pick up truck (of course) driving around my neighborhood with a bumpersticker that says "Get 'er done." Thanks to Google, I found a wide range of meanings of this phrase, from the crude (fuck her) to the encouraging (do it! and with confidence!). Its origins are in redneck, hick-speak, but increasingly is heard througout the US.

See http://trogdor.blogs.com/codemonkey/2004/03/atom_rss_get_er.html for more information (you know you want to).

Get 'er done is not in my new cool thesaurus. Not surprising, really.

Ness and Filomena are at loose ends

America has an important game tonight against Nacional from Columbia in the Copa Sudamericana. G. is watching the game with a friend, which means I won't see him for 12 whole hours. This might sound cling-y, but 12 hours is an extended period of time. Sure, I'll be tuning into the game and watching Lost and working on crafty projects and thumbing through my new really cool thesaurus (I'm a multi-tasker, even in "play" time)and I really have no problem spending time alone. But 12 hours...

Does she look dazed to you?

Filo hasn't had the best week. She gets quite aggressive whenever she sees other dogs on our walks. Aggressive and totally distraught at the same time. I blame Splenda. It's obvious that Splenda has been talking shit about Filomena to the other dogs around our complex and that dog mom of hers, too. The stakes are getting higher between those two, now Splenda is barking like crazy whenever she sees Filo. Bitch (literally! ha, ha!...bad joke?) Filo just turned 3, which on the dog-human age equivalency chart, means she is about 29. Hmm, about my age--is that significant? Somebody else with a Bichon-type pooch informed me that Bichon behavior relaxes a bit by 3. So far, not true for the Filomena. She is taking Benadryl for her allergies. I know Benadryl makes me loopy, could it have the same effects on a dog?

Down with O.P.M's, yeah you know me...*

Hmm, it's Wednesday. This week has flown by. I'm back to facing only one more day of classes and then a whole weekend to screw up--no, not this weekend. No big meat meals planned (uh, I hate thinking about it), just Disc 2 of Da Ali G show to finish watching and pizza. Mmmm, pizza. I love pizza. I eat pizza weekly. Pizza is one of those foods that I just can't get enough. My body does not register "full" when pizza is in front of me. White pizza, pizza with red sauce, thin crust, thick crust, veggies--I say, bring it on. Get 'er done. Can't say enough about pizza. Lately, G. and I are stuck on Amy's frozen pizza with pesto, brocoli, and tomatoes. Just delicious, and not frozen-y tasting either. Rather fresh actually. It's probably the organic ingredients. A wee little bit on the pricey side for frozen pizza that size, but definitely worth it. Especially if you catch it on sale.

Here are some folks who are clearly serious about pizza.

*Original Pizza Monsters

Waiters

Our dinner at Steak and Ale was tasty, but the atmosphere sucked. First, we were sat in the "pub" section of the restaurant. Your basic chain restaurant "pub" decor includes polo mallets on the wall, black and white pictures of unidentified rugby teams, a stained glass window, bookshelves (??). It was the type of room that is best viewed through very low light. Unfortunately, we got there early enough in the afternoon when the sunlight was still filtering in and clashing with the barely lit chandeliers. You could see thread-bare spots in the carpet and missing buttons and scratches on the nalgahide bench seats--worn spots that were usually hidden by restaurant's near-darkness. We sat in one of those booths where the table is too far from the bench, but if you move it, then it's too far for the person across from you. I hate that. To top it off, a fly kept buzzing around and later, violated my buttered slice of bread. Gross.

I ordered the prime rib and G. ordered the prime rib and lobster, plus salads for both of us. Now, I thought G. and I looked like quite the handsome couple, me in a cute empire silk blouse and wedge sandals and G. in chinos and a polo. A twenty second exchange at the salad bar managed to squash that idea. While I was innocently chosing red onion rings for my salad, the waitress manning the salad bar asked me how I was coming along, while looking pointedly at my tummy area. Jesus Christ. I'm not pregnant, just have a gut. Then she asked if G. was my brother. Nope, wrong again, crazy salad lady, that's my boyfriend. I escaped from the increasingly humiliating scene and took refuge in the pub.

I must make note of a few things. Her assumption that I was pregnant was based on the fact that the shirt is poofy in that region of the body and, yes, I have a tummy of which I am not happy about already and do not need crazy salad lady to single out for me. The crapper is that this is the second time somebody has made the exact same assumption while I wore that particular shirt. So I can totally blame the shirt (and promptly banish it to the back of my closet, although it's really cute), but I totally blame my body as well. I wasn't always at odds with my body; we used to be close friends. It would digest anything I consumed (beer, chocolate, fast food) and stay thin. Our friendship changed forever about three years ago and now I don't know what the heck this body wants. I know I'm at a normal weight when compared to normal American women, but memories of my past skinny self are hard to shake. So I've become super sensitive about my body and no matter how much I work through weight related comments that come from family members and, now, random strangers, it hurts. It really hurts.

G. tried to distract me by recounting his memories of trends at Indian Ridge Middle School, circa 1992. The main trend was that everybody would say "laters" instead of saying goodbye (goodbye being way to square for the young teenage set). G., ever the nonconformist, shortened the phrase to "lates." But special recognition goes out to Jason Bulding who would leave his friends with "waiters." I asked if anybody else adopted this phrase, but no, G. says it was part of Jason Bulding's personal schtick. G. also told me that his circle of friends would converse in old English phrases, as in "Wilst thou lend thy social studies book to thine friend? I haveth much homework this eve. Lates." Oh, boy, the middle school years...

G. experienced an embarrassing moment, although his was self-inflicted. While trying to spear a ranch-laden lettuce leaf, it jumped up and hit him in the face, getting ranch on his glasses, nose, and forehead. The hostess witnessed the whole event. I actually missed it entirely, probably because I was still in shock over the salad bar incident.

So we won't be going back to Steak and Ale. Ever. Chicana on the Edge's Regina talked about finally reaching a point where she's fine with being single (http://chicanaontheedge.blogspot.com/2005/09/desperate-no-more.html). I would love to have the same sort of enlightened moment about my weight and I hope I don't have to reach age 39 to experience that moment. I know the choice is up to me to do something about it and I will, I will.