Odd Bird

There is a blue and white parakeet that hangs out in our yard sometimes. I've tried in vain to take his photo, but he flies away too fast. I'm guessing he escaped from a cage, eschewing the domesticated life as a pet. The parakeet hangs out with the little brown birds that nest in our hedges. They eat bugs and seeds from our yard. I feel bad for the parakeet and worry about him. I hope he can migrate with the brown birds when it's time. I hope he finds enough food to stay healthy. I hope that the little brown birds make him feel welcome even though he's different.

As an adult who doesn't work full-time right now, and who has (so far) chosen not to have children, I feel left out of various peer social groups. It's hard to make friends when you're in your 30s and don't have regular work or kids to facilitate socializing with other people. I feel like an overeager, overbearing dork as the person who instigates social outings most of the time, and I feel like a pariah when I get stood-up for these social outings. Most other people my age are consumed with work and/or family right now. I feel like I got stuck in my self-obsessed 20s, while my peers moved on to bigger and (in most cases) more important ventures.

I'm projecting my odd-bird-out feeling onto the escaped parakeet that hangs out in my yard with the little brown birds. The parakeet makes me sad, when it might actually be a happy bird thankful to be out of the cage.

It's time for me to get a steady job and/or a new volunteer project when Chad and I get back from vacation. I've enjoyed having time to do house projects since I left my last steady job in January. I've stayed somewhat occupied with temporary work, freelance jobs and a few acting gigs. I needed time to heal after losing my dad and my grandpa this year. Grieving has been a solitary activity. I also needed time to rest, recover and get cozy after the great house fix-up of 2006. I'm getting restless now and starting to feel lonely, acknowledging the need for daily interaction. Soon it will be time to get out there and try to find my group of little brown birds.

Simply Finicky

I am not a foodie. I don't rhapsodize over gourmet flavors. I think fusion cuisine is silly. If you wouldn't feed it to a ten-year-old (vegetarian) kid, don't try to make me eat it. Ask my mom what happens when someone tries to force-feed me anything I don't like. I've got a strong gag reflex and a weak stomach.

I am also not a wine connoisseur. Blech - instant headache. When someone serves me wine, I smile and carry the glass around and even take a few sips in good faith that the host isn't trying to poison me, but I don't like wine and it doesn't like me. Champagne is an entirely different matter. I love some sweet Asti bubbly or a little sparkling prosecco, but even then I'm flirting with the afore-mentioned headache.

I like simple food. Order a cheese pizza. Stock the fruit bowl. Cut up some raw vegetables and serve them with a bowl of light ranch dressing, I'm a happy camper. Speaking of camping, I love s'mores, but hate any dessert with the words flourless, ganache, or heavy cream in the description.

In the ongoing effort to lose weight and develop healthier habits, I am enjoying smaller portions of the foods and drinks that I am so finicky about choosing. I'd rather savor a small portion than overindulge these days. Ingesting more than I need leaves me feeling bloated and listless.

The kind of people who show love with food are often frustrated by me. People need food to survive just like everyone needs love to make this life worth the struggle. Personally, I need simple, unconditional love in steady amounts over time. Don't make it too fancy with too many ingredients. Don't do the fusion thing with too many conditions that may or may not meld successfully. Don't force too much at once.

Eat Pizza Once a Week

Just a quick post to boast that I've lost 19 pounds now! I didn't believe the scale at the gym, but 3 different scales all say the same thing.

I hit the gym at least three times a week. Chad and I walk 3 miles together at night twice a week. I eat pizza once a week, because I love it, but I only have 1 or 2 slices with a salad.

Still have 15 pounds to lose, but I'm getting closer to my goal weight.

Dremel Rotary Rocks!

I'm refinishing our 55-year-old bathtub. Removing decades worth of caulk and grout from the edges of the tub was terribly tedious and tough on my hand muscles. This prep work was taking a much longer time than I thought it would.

In a bout of chivalry, Chad chauffeured me to Lowe's to purchase a few things for the tub project. Fate found me in the small hand tools section drooling over the Dremel rotary tool with tiny sanding and cutting attachments. Be still my beating heart. Once home, the Dremel removed most of the strata of grout and caulk, and my poor hands are spared.

Wish me luck as I refinish and re-caulk the tub!

Update: The tub project went well for the most part. I bought a $40 kit at Lowe's and did it myself instead of paying a pro $500+. All the scrubbing, sanding and straining to reach corners without touching wet epoxy left my shoulders and lower back very sore. Showering at the gym for a week was kind of weird and inconvenient as we waited for the new glaze to dry and cure. The tub looks all shiny and sparkly-white now. The new caulk made a huge difference too. Before the tub had permanent rust stains and weird drippy marks that would not scrub away with mildewy caulk that bleach could not tame. Overall, I'm glad I did it myself. Chad likes it too and gave me some yummy bath salts as a thank you gift.

Not Falling for Fall Marketing

Summer, with its 100+ degree days feels like it just started here in Austin. May, June and most of July were rainy and cool. The weather was, dare I say it, very pleasant. Normally by this time of year in Austin, I'm in the throws of a full-on "I hate summer in Texas" rant with a 44 ounce icy, diet drink in one hand and a water spritzer in the other hand while positioned squarely under an air-conditioning vent in a room with the curtains drawn and the blinds shut tight against the blazing Texas sun. This year, you'll find me with a 12 ounce diet drink in one hand while I sit out on the deck and marvel at how 90 degrees in the evening doesn't feel too bad if you sit still. I haven't even been for a dip in the cold, spring-fed pools of Deep Eddy or Barton Springs yet this summer. I haven't even had a Jim-Jim's water ice yet this summer.

I'm just now getting into the groove that is summer, and my August issue of Glamour magazine shows up. (That Glamour subscription is a guilty pleasure balanced out by reading the more cerebral Wired magazine.) This month's Glamour issue features all the fall fashions. Gross. It won't be cold enough here in Austin for fall fashion until at least mid-November. Why is it that every fall, fashion houses dish out plaid, tweed and blazers like it's something new? Been there, bought it, still in my closet, don't need this year's rehashed leftovers version of it. Except for maybe these cute
Delia's boots that were featured on page 169. OK, so maybe I need to know about SOME of the fall fashions, but the whole concept of being marketed to with fall fashion when my summer just got going is off-putting. I'll be sporting my flip-flops, knee-length skirts and 100% cotton t-shirts for several months still. Call the fashion police if you must.

Buying Back my Childhood: Priceless

Here are my recent treasures from three separate trips to Half Price Books. You'll notice many vintage Nancy Drew books to add to my collection! I now have 24 of the original 56 Nancy Drew books. Normally I'm not a fan of collecting things. I view collecting as less of a hobby; and more about consuming and blindly spending money. There is a Douglas Coupland quote about people "confusing buying things with creativity." In this case, however, I am making an exception to my "no collecting" rule. Nancy Drew was such a part of my childhood. I fully intend to re-read every one of the original 56 books, and hope to share them with my niece, Mary, someday (and any future nieces that might come along.)

My vintage Nancy Drew books are all from the same approximate publishing period. There are newer, shinier Nancy Drew books, but I don't want those, because they don't look, feel or smell the same as the ones from my childhood. My vintage Nancy Drew books from Half Price Books cost between $2.48 and $4.98 each. When I originally bought the books back in the day with my allowance, they were $2.95 each. That vintage status adds to the price tag, but also makes them exponentially cooler and more personally meaningful.

Happy National Underwear Day!

August 7, 2007 is National Underwear Day here in the states. Let's all celebrate by wearing some. (Under your clothes, of course!)

Halfway There - The Weight Loss Journey

I apologize that few of you will find this the least bit interesting, and that a lot of you will think I'm terribly vain, but here goes:

It took 159 days, but I've lost 17 pounds since I started adopting a new, healthier lifestyle. I'm halfway to my weight loss goal. (For you non-math-wizards, that means my total weight loss goal is 34 pounds.) I am so embarrassed by the all-time high number that displayed on the scale back in January and early February, that I'm not going to reveal that awful, awful weight. I will say that size 10 was getting snug and I really prefer to be a size 6 with plenty of breathing room. I will also reveal that the Body Mass Index calculator said I was borderline obese. Cringe!


What led to the weight gain? I gained a fast 15 pounds over the course of 10 months. Here are the top 3 reasons as I see them:
1. The stress of having our lovely, posh (rented) condo unceremoniously sold out from under us halfway through our lease, and then realizing that to live in the area of the town we liked, we'd have to buy a house that needed quite a bit of work -- about six months worth of hot, dusty, sweaty, sore-muscle manual labor.
2. The kitchen at our new house was a wreck and housed painting supplies and tools for the first four months that we lived here. Fast food was always on the menu during that time. I thought that with all the hard work I was doing on the house, that surely I was burning lots of calories. Not so.
3. My dad died suddenly and very unexpectedly in October. This sent me into a tailspin of depression. When my dad literally dropped dead on his treadmill while exercising, the last place I wanted to be was at the gym. The first few times I went to the gym after his death, I cried while on the elliptical machine and cried during yoga classes. It's hard to exercise when exercise gets associated with sadness.

There have been some major and minor stumbling blocks in my quest for a healthier lifestyle. I knew I needed to start eating healthier in general, and lose some of the new-homeowner bad habits I formed over the past year.

On February 27, I started the South Beach diet. I lost 6 pounds in the first two weeks, which is known as phase 1 of the diet. Phase 1 is highly restrictive and difficult. Pretty much the only things a person can eat are lean proteins, vegetables (excluding carrots and potatoes of any kind) and small amounts of reduced fat cheese. There are no baked goods of any kind, no cereals / grains, no fruit, no "real" cheese, nothing containing natural or refined sugars allowed during Phase 1. I hate fish. I don't eat red meat. I had a serious addiction to whole wheat toast. This two weeks of Phase 1 was absolutely awful.

I've heard of other people losing up to 15 pounds during Phase 1, so I was a bit disappointed to only lose 6 pounds, but consoled myself with the theory that slower weight loss is likely to be permanent weight loss. Since following the South Beach diet during Phase 1 and Phase 2, I've learned that Phase 1 is actually not good for a person like me. I have kidney problems and therefore need to limit my protein intake.

Here's some science stuff on that:
When following a high protein, low carbohydrate meal plan, both uric acid and calcium oxalate stones are more likely to form. In fact, one study found that consumption of a low carbohydrate, high protein diet for 6 weeks delivers a marked acid load to the kidney, increasing the risk for stone formation.-- Reddy, S.T, Wang, C.Y., Sakhaee, K., Brinkley, L., and CYC. Pak. Effect of low-carbohydrate high-protein diets on acid-base balance, stone-forming propensity, and calcium metabolism. Am. J. Kidney Dis. 40(2):265-74, 2002.

During the South Beach Diet early days, I was working through the stages of grieving due to losing my dad so unexpectedly. I was stuck in the depression stage for a few months. Quitting most carbs cold-turkey for Phase 1 of South Beach was probably not a good idea for me at that time. I felt not just tired and cranky on this diet, but physically shaky and angry.

Here's the science stuff:
Many who are testing low-carbohydrate approaches like Atkins and the South Beach Diet are reporting unusually elevated feelings of anger, tension and depression, enough so that a new term ‘Atkins attitude,’ has been adopted to describe it. Judith Wurtman, director of the Women’s Health Program at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the Adara Weight Loss Center, has conducted studies on rats showing a connection between low carbohydrate intake and low levels of serotonin – a neurotransmitter that promotes feelings of happiness and satisfaction. In her research, rats placed on a ketotic, or low-carbohydrate diet for three weeks were found to have lower levels of serotonin in their brains. Wurtman believes that same effect occurs in humans on low-carb diets, leading to pronounced feelings of depression and sadness, even rage. -- Wurtman, R.J., and J.J. Wurtman. Carbohydrates and depression. Sci Am. 260(1): 68-75, 1989.

In addition, Dr. Agatston, MD, author of The South Beach Diet advises patients to get about 20 minutes of exercise a day, such as walking. Um, yeah, I spend about 40 minutes on the elliptical machine and spend another 30 minutes doing stomach crunches, push-ups and lifting weights at least three times a week at the gym. This activity is in addition to daily chores like gardening, vacuuming, hauling laundry out to the washer, etc... and other "fun" exercise like hour-long walks with Chad, bike rides and occasional kayaking. I think I far surpass that "20 minutes of activity" advice most days. I need some carbs to make some energy, Doc!

That said, I think that Phase 2 of the South Beach Diet has great guidelines for losing weight, and I loved being able to eat some whole grains again! The recipes in the South Beach cookbooks are good, if a bit involved sometimes. If any of you are looking for some nutritional advice, skip Phase 1 of South Beach Diet and go straight to Phase 2. Your weight loss will be slower in Phase 2, but it is much less painful, more nutritionally sound and much more likely to lead to sustained / permanent weight loss.

I spent about two months at a weight loss plateau. I didn't gain any weight back, but I also wasn't losing weight from mid-May until mid-July. My dad's dad passed away on June 1, and I got physically sick with grief for a week. I had a cough, body aches and fatigue. My grandpa's passing was like a sequel to losing my dad just seven months earlier. While I didn't resort to any of my old unhealthy coping mechanisms such as mass doses of sugary baked goods or fried foods, I also wasn't getting as much exercise as usual. On July 4, I decided it was time to give up poultry as part of my slow transition to a vegetarian lifestyle. I don't mean to preach, but it is my personal preference not to eat food that once had a face. I still eat fish a few times a week (yuck), but eventually fish will go too. Not to worry, I am eating lots of soy, plenty of beans, egg-beaters, non-fat dairy and iron-rich veggies. There was an adjustment period to the new pesco-vegetarian diet which slowed the weight loss. Finally, in late-July, the weight started coming off again.

Which brings us up to last Friday when I stepped on the scales at the gym and found that I had maintained the halfway mark to my weight loss goal for a week! (I have this weird superstition that I can't really claim weight loss until is stays off for at least a week.) It feels great. Hopefully by February of 2008, I'll be in the maintenance phase of this health-kick-hullabaloo. And I'll being wearing a size 6 with breathing room.

Allergic to Mowing

I've been working very part-time (10 hours a week) for my friends' event planning company helping to decorate for weddings and doing some marketing writing for them. It's been fun. I also have a few dinner theater shows every month, and we're doing a script I already know, so it doesn't keep me too busy.

Given that I have much more free time than Chad does, and given that he makes a lot more money than I ever will, I try to hold up my end of the household duties by taking care of the chores. I do the laundry & iron, shop for the groceries & figure out meals, make the bed, manage the bill payments, take care of our three cats, etc... Chad is graciously happy to take care of the more manly chores of lawn care and grilling. However, sometimes if I'm feeling very generous, I will mow the lawn, so Chad can relax on the weekends and hang out with me, instead of worrying about the yard. I actually enjoy the meditative qualities of mowing the lawn, walking slowly behind the mower, making sure that the rows overlap just enough to get all the grassy stuff to an even length. We have a quiet, electric mower that gets the job done with minimal noise and without the noxious gasoline stink of most mowers.

Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do about my very strong allergies to most things associated with the yard: grass, all manner of pollens, dust and leaves. I suffer from sinus headache, runny noise, itchy eyes that border on blurry vision, low-grade fever and general malaise every time I mow the lawn despite my best efforts to avoid the allergic reactions by snorting Flonase and popping Claritin Ds. I generally am uselessly listless for hours after mowing the lawn. Next time I go to the doctor, I'm going to get a note excusing me from lawn mowing. And while I'm not officially allergic to bugs, I harbor a general dislike of any bug that isn't a ladybug. Yep, the ugly truth revealed, I'm bugist -- having an extreme prejudice and suspicion of all bugs that aren't ladybugs. Between the allergies and the bugism, there will be no more lawn mowing for me. Darnit.

Tag, I'm It!

Getting "tagged" on a blog is similar to a chain e-mail, but lots more fun. You read your friend's blog and find out that they got tagged. They answer a series of questions, and tag more people who then also answer the same questions, posting the answers on their blog. Then they tag a few more people, and on it goes. I'm one of the cool (okay, dorky) kids. I got tagged! In response to a delightfully jaded and funny blog that I frequent, here are my answers:

Four jobs I've had:
1. Professional petsitter with Furry Godmothers (Like how I make it sound all official with the word "professional"?)
2. Marketing Assistant with Zach Scott Theatre
3. SEC Licensed Mutual Fund Client Services Rep (Hated it, am so bored by money.)
4. Communications and Advertising Technician for Texas Medical Liability Trust (Was as painfully boring as it sounds.)

Four movies I can watch over and over again:
1. Singles
2. Groundhog Day
3. Spirited Away
4. Party Girl (starring my hero, Parker Posey)

Four places I have lived:
1. Alexandria, LA
2. Birmingham, AL
3. Cross Lanes, WV
4. Plano, TX

Four TV shows I watch:
1. Ugly Betty
2. Psych
3. Monk
4. The Office (Loved the BBC version. Love the American version.)

Four places I've been on vacation:
1. Quebec City
2. Tulum / Akumal, Mexico
3. New York City
4. Los Angeles

Four favorite foods:
1. migas taco from Taco Express on South Lamar
2. swedish fish (gummy candy)
3. Concord pears
4. lentil soup

Four websites I visit: (blogs)
1. Jensational
2. Planet Lu
3. The Holmes
4. BLaneyOG

Four people I'm tagging:
1. Kate D.
2. Chad (You can post your answers here.)
3. Christina Wilkins (Will give you a chance to finally update your blog!)
4. Ed Toutant (To see if you're reading, Ed.)

If you got tagged by me, you can post answers in your own blog, post answers in the comment section of this blog or email answers to me. Have fun!

Chad Poisoned Us!

Sunday night Chad offered to make dinner. He made salads with salmon fillets on top. I have to admit that I wasn't digging the salad, because it didn't taste good -- kind of bitter. I figured that I put the wrong dressing on the salad, or that I am too accustomed to restaurant cooking, and that's why it tasted weird to me. I ate the salad anyway because my nice husband went to the trouble to make a healthy dinner for the two of us.

Monday morning rolled around and I awoke feeling weird. I had a slight headache and felt hungry but also a little nauseous. I had a Luna Bar and a Diet Coke (breakfast of champions!) thinking that the combination would provide vitamins and caffeine without too much tummy trouble. By lunchtime, I felt weak and a bit shaky. I reached for a ready-made falafel wrap, and the sight of the lettuce on my intended lunch sent me running for the bathroom. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that Chad and I were both ill. Both repulsed by the mere thought of lettuce or salad. Chad thinks that the food-poisoning culprit was lettuce that went a little long in crisper. I don't know for sure, but I won't be having any salads or salmon again for a while.

Chad continues to apologize profusely. I'm fairly confident that he wasn't trying to kill me since he got sick also. If he was up to no good, maybe he's learned his lesson that bad deeds typically backfire. Or maybe it was all an elaborate ruse to get me to cook more, fearing for our health and welfare.

My New Celebrity Crush

Hugh Dancy will be thrilled to know that he is my new celebrity crush. He ascended to the title after I saw him in the movie Evening. Isn't he dreamy? He's British, so you know he talks pretty. He looks a bit like my husband, which adds to the perceived attractiveness level (or PAL for short.) I'm looking forward to Mr. Dancy's next movie The Jane Austen Book Club.


My celebrity crush position has been vacant for several months now. Previous celebrity crush, Pete Wentz, fell from grace when he started dating Ashlee Simpson. They make a cute couple and I wish them much happiness. However, I feel that Pete's emo-rocker card should be revoked now that he dates a pop-tart like Ashlee. Pete also lost points when he got into a few highly publicized fist fights. I don't like men who resort to violence so quickly.

I think I've been watching too much television and seeing too many movies lately. When I met my friend, Tara, at the mall tonight to see Evening, I people-watched for a while as I waited for her. Members of the general public are not nearly as attractive looking as the stars of the small and large screens are. My perception is getting warped from looking at too many pretty people. I'm sure that every one of us would benefit from a professional hair and makeup crew, professional lighting, editing and a generous dose of film retouching!

Pretending to be Outdoorsy

I have terrible allergies, pale skin and a love of reading and watching movies. That's why I'm thankful for Claritin D with Flonase, Neutrogena oil-free sunblock, Book People and Regal Cinemas. Now that I have a house, there's a compulsion to take care of the house not just inside, but also outside. I'm not outdoorsy. I describe myself as "indoorsy." (My friend, Maggie, agrees with me that indoorsy should be a word, because it is quite descriptive of our shared interests.) Alas, sometimes one has to venture outside and make an effort to keep the yard looking nice.


There was a dead tree in our side yard that Good Morning Tree Service removed last Thursday. In its place, Chad helped me plant these Pride of Barbados plants. They're pretty with bright blooms and do very well in Austin.


The plants we put around the base of the deck back in June love all the rain we've had this summer.


I finally found a St. Francis statue that I like. It was 25% off at Shoal Creek Nursery. I love Shoal Creek Nursery. It's less than a mile from our house, has great native plant selections and friendly staff. Visit them at 2710 Hancock Drive in Austin.

An Insomniac's Revelations about the 10th Grade

Last night, I actually slept for six and a half hours. Tonight, I got up after trying for an hour (unsuccessfully) to go to sleep. And before you ask: I got up at a regular time this morning; I went to the gym today and did an extra strenuous workout thinking it would make me tired; and I didn't have any caffeine past 4:00 PM.

Here's a few random memories from 10th grade:

I dyed my hair from dirty blonde, or pool-blonde as my mom called it, to black for a theatre show in which I was supposed to look Italian. The black didn't take well over the blonde. After a few days, it faded to an army-green color. My Algebra II teacher sang "It's Not Easy Being Green" in her best Kermit the Frog voice to me each day when I entered her classroom.

Also in tenth grade I was awarded "thespian of the year" by my theatre teacher. If you go to Vines High School in Plano, Texas, there's a plaque with my name on it, along with about thirty other thespians. I'm fully aware of the nerd-factor.

I was a deacon's daughter and I dated the preacher's son for a while. The preacher's son was two years older than me. If we had ever actually kissed, it might have caused a major scandal.

I read "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand to impress a boy, but after reading it, I decided I didn't like the boy anymore. I decided that I wanted to marry an architect someday instead. Although I did date an architecture student in college, my husband is not an architect and that's fine.

I drove a few times without a license, and without a licensed driver in the car to help me. My dad said it was okay. Luckily, I never got pulled over by the police.

If I needed a mental-health day away from school, I'd plea my case to Mom, because she usually said yes.

I was allowed to start dating when I turned 16 in the tenth grade. Oddly, that was also the year that my parents decided I needed braces and got thee not to a nunnery, but to the orthodontist. Same thing.

I had big hair in the form of a double-piggy-back-spiral perm. I told everyone the curl was all natural. For the record, the wavy hair I have now is natural, you can ask my stylist, Monica at Maximum FX.

I ran with the drama kids (histrionic dorks) and some of the drill team babes. It made for a few awkward social outings before I realized that I should keep the two groups of friends separate. I like to think I'm the person who introduced the drill team girls to the music of New Order, but it was the brainchild of my drama class and drill tream pal, Jenny. She even did a choreographed routine to the song Bizarre Love Triangle. Very progressive, huh?

I tried to be a vegetarian, but after several months of not eating meat (no, not even fish) I broke down and ate half of a Monte Cristo sandwich from Bennigan's. Yuck.

Jet-lag Would Justify It

For numerous reasons, few of which I can remember now, because I'm so tired, I am having trouble sleeping lately. I envy my cats and their amazing ability to sleep for long stretches of time. When Sonic (pictured above) stretches out for his nap, he really stretches out. That's a long kitty.

Last night stretched fitfully into this morning with lots of stress dreams. You know what I mean, the dreams where you are working on something, or you are involved in a nerve-wracking task or some kind of stressful communication, or you are being chased, and sometimes you are simultaneously in your birthday suit. These stress dreams disrupt your sleep cycles when you jar awake trying to reorient yourself to the fact that it was only a dream, that you should be sleeping peacefully. You look at the clock and think, if I can fall asleep now, I'll get a good three hours of sleep. The pressure to get some quality sleep then gives you another stress dream and the whole night turns into one big toss and turn fest. I have a few nights like this every three or four months. I do not want to take sleep medication and develop a dependency on, then a resistance to, said sleep medication. I prefer to tough it out. I pretend I have jet-lag and get up at a usual time and stay up until a reasonable bedtime, but the past week has not been optimal snooze time. And I didn't earn the jet-lag by going anywhere fun.

Monk Marathon = Happy

A year ago today, Chad and I were working hard to whip this old house into shape. We had only two rooms painted and unpacked: the guest bedroom, which we lived / hid in the first six months here; and the living room / dining room, which we didn't spend much time in because we could see into the other rooms that weren't painted yet, full of unopened moving boxes. It was hot. We were, no doubt, covered in little speckles of paint and primer. I think we had hot water for showers and washing dishes at that point, but I can only really remember that the gas guy took several weeks to show up and actually turn on the gas for the gas hot water heater and gas stove after we moved into this house.

Last fourth of July, I distinctly recall begging Chad to take a break from painting and cool off with me. We positioned ourselves squarely under an air conditioning vent and sprawled out on the living room floor. I flipped on the TV for some brain candy, and found that the USA network was showing back-to-back episodes of Monk all day. Yay! I love this goofy mystery show about a detective who has obsessive compulsive disorder and a plethora of phobias. Chad and I watched an episode and half of Monk before we dragged ourselves back into whatever room we were working on at that time.

I set our digital recorder to record Monk anytime it came on TV. Whenever we took a break from working on the house for the rest of the summer, there was usually a recorded Monk to watch. I came to associate the theme song of Monk with happy times when I could set down the paintbrush or screwdriver for a while, temporarily ignoring the long list of chores. The Monk theme song would start. My eyes would glaze over slightly. My brain would bask in happy chemicals. My back would relax into the floor, for I was far too dirty to put my icky, paint-splattered self on the sofa. Watching episodes of Monk took me to my happy place.

This fourth of July holiday delivered another Monk marathon which our trusty digital recorder captured while we bustled around getting ready to have friends over for dinner -- a nice dinner in our completely painted, unpacked, cleaned and (for now) finished house. After a yummy dinner with good company, we headed out to watch fireworks. After the fireworks, it was time to come home to wash dishes and clean up the dinner debris. Before we started washing up, Chad asked if we could watch an episode of Monk. Heck, yeah! The Monk theme song started. My eyes glazed over slightly. My brain basked in happy chemicals. My back relaxed into the sofa, for I am no longer covered in last summer's constant layer of sweat, dust and paint. Happy times...

Summer Movies Under the Stars

There are a gazillion reasons to love living in Austin, and I just found one more: free Sunday night movies under the stars at The Belmont. Despite more predicted rain storms, the weather was perfect. The pesky mosquitoes stayed away. My dinner, a delicious Cedar Plank Salmon Salad, was great.

This week's showing was Stand by Me, based on Stephen King's novella "The Body" (from the book Different Seasons.) The story is about four friends and an adventure they shared when they were 12 years old.

Katie and Brian, two of the cutest newlyweds you've ever seen, joined me. Brian is a Stephen King fan who had never seen this flick, and he gave it a thumbs-up.

My 8th Grade Heart's Desire

I only lived in the tiny town of Cross Lanes, West Virginia for a little less than two years. While there, I attended 7th & 8th grade at Andrew Jackson Junior High. I loved living in Cross Lanes despite, or maybe because of, the tiny size of the place. I could tell you the name of every kid in my grade, and maybe even every kid in the school.

When Cross Lanes didn't have what I needed, I would take the public transportation bus into the thriving metropolis / state's capital city of Charleston to go to the mall with my BFF, Angie Hindle. I liked the historic buildings in Charleston. There was a cool, huge library in the city that smelled bookish. There was a movie theater downtown where I spent many weekends.

When I think about it, Austin is kind of like Charleston: abundant in natural beauty with a river through the center, a small-ish city that serves as the state capital, with a quirky and friendly populace, and a good arts scene with a low barrier to entry. Maybe I liked Austin so much when I moved here for college because it reminded me of the super-happy times I had in Charleston.

In 8th grade, a beautiful, exotic-looking boy caught my eye at school. He was a year older than me. The rumor was that he had been expelled from Charleston Catholic School, which gave him a dangerous allure. He had the perfect skater-boy hair and the skateboard to go with it. His name was Virgil Sadorra. Virgil and I had an on-again / off-again flirtation over the years (yes, even after I moved away to the very different town of Plano, Texas) that never amounted to anything. The last time we spoke was the summer before my sophomore year at the University of Texas. He was about to go to culinary school, having discovered a great affinity for cooking. He sent me a little troll doll in a chef's jacket, which was just the cutest gesture. He even talked about driving down to Austin to visit me, but he wanted to stay in my dorm room with me, and that was just way too scandalous to consider, so the visit never happened.

Friday Virgil's name came up when I was asked about old crushes. I googled him today. He owns three (!) hot restaurants in Charleston now: Cilantros - a tex-mex place, Delish - popular lunch spot and Vandalia Lounge - yum, mojitos. I grabbed this photo of Virgil with his son from Charleston photographer, Rick Lee's, blog. Awwww, so cute!

I'm really happy for Virgil. He did good. I'm also really happy with my life in Austin and really happy to have my sweet husband, Chad. Chad and I joke that we wouldn't have liked each other if we met back in grade school, so the timing was good that we met at college.

Thanks, Hillary (Bergman; not Clinton)

I was having a rotten day. So very rotten was my mood, that I thought I was going to start crying while driving home from the gym, when usually the gym makes me feel happy and high on endorphins. I'll spare you the stupid details of why I was feeling so low.

I got home and read the email pasted below from my awesome massage therapist, Hillary Bergman. It lifted my mood and actually made me laugh out loud and count myself lucky to have three cute, sweet, weird kitties.

To All Pet Owners

To be posted VERY LOW on the refrigerator door - nose height.

Dear Dogs and Cats:

The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, and try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years -- canine or feline attendance is not required.

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or cat's butt. I cannot stress this enough!

To pacify you, my dear pets, I have posted the following message on our front door:

To All Non-Pet Owners Who Visit & Like to Complain About Our Pets:

1 They live here. You don't.
2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. (That's why they call it "fur"nature.)
3. I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.
4. To you, it's an animal. To me, he/she is an adopted son/daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.

Remember: In many ways, dogs and cats are better than kids because they:

1. Eat less
2. Don't ask for money all the time
3. Are easier to train
4. Normally come when called
5. Never ask to drive the car
6. Don't hang out with drug-using friends
7. Don't smoke or drink
8. Don't have to buy the latest fashions
9. Don't want to wear your clothes
10. Don't need a "gazillion" dollars for college.

And finally,

11. If they get pregnant, you can sell their children.

Insomnia Leads to Lawn Improvement

During a bout of insomnia last week, I watched a gardening show at 5:00 in the morning, and got a bee in my bonnet. I measured and bought my project supplies. I informed Chad that I'd be spending the weekend crawling under the deck and that I could use his muscles for digging holes (those muscles shouldn't be just for show.)

I put down 288 square feet of weed black-out fabric using 74 earth staples (giant staples that hold the fabric down to the dirt) and covered it with 11 bags of mulch. I used the leftover paver-stones from our driveway for the edging. Chad helped me dig holes for 9 aztec grass plants along the sides of the deck and I put out 6 coneflower plants along the front of the deck. I moved the glow-in-the-dark gazing ball over, and tah-dah! The deck area looks better!

Oh yeah, I found 3 huge snails and one tiny grass snake in the plants from the nursery. All were relocated to the far corner of the backyard. None were harmed. I just need to find a St. Francis of Assisi statue that I like...