Lemme Lemme Upgrade

While we thoroughly enjoyed our Christmas Bush of 2007, Alan and I decided to upgrade to Larger Small Christmas Tree of 2008.

I was tempted to buy a poinsettia this year or a plant similarly small because we just don't have the room for a big tree, but we were feeling particularly festive this year and decide to upgrade. We headed to the nearest Christmas tree lot and walked among the large trees, almost wishing we had a lobby or atrium and could buy one of the insanely priced 20-footers.


After a trek through the piney forest of cut trees, we settled on this cute little guy. While small in stature, he is quite balanced and filled out very nicely. While we're in a years-long hunt for an appropriate tree topper, this picture will give you an idea of this year's upgrade. Marti is for scale.

Hope you all are enjoying your large Christmas trees!

Best Weekend Ever

Well, maybe not ever, but last weekend was quite stellar. I didn't even get Friday after Thanksgiving off, but I made the best of the hand I was dealt.

Thanksgivings in California are not Thanksgivings in Kansas (slash Missouri). Alan and I would much rather be back home with family and having reunions with our oldest and best friends, but alas, it is just not possible with so far to travel and the opposite of all the money in the world. However, we've made Thanksgiving decidedly our own since we've been out here. This year, Alan's lab once again played another lab in the Turkey Bowl, aka "The most serious game of touch football ever." And by serious, I mean, bruises-on-the-arms serious. Still. They should be turning yellow any day now. And no wonder. Check out the hoss Alan had to block.

This year the game was more intense than last year, but they pulled it out in the last play to win for the second year in a row. Hurray for champions!

After the game, we spent the rest of the day "relaxing hard." This consisted of opening a bottle of wine and playing Scrabble all day while football played on TV. I relaxed a little too hard, apparently, because Alan beat me like eight games straight. And I'm supposed to be the "word" person. Whatever. A good vocab doesn't give you luck when drawing letters out of a bag. (Just kidding, Alan's very good at Scrabble.)

Because I wasn't trusted to cook dinner (and because I really didn't want to make dinner for just two in a kitchen with no dishwasher), we had reservations at a local restaurant. We'd wanted to eat there anyway, and they had a four-course meal, complete with turkey, stuffing and pumpkin pie. We were a little too full when we left. It was awesome.

On Saturday Alan and I headed up to "the city" to go to Phantom of the Opera. We ate a delicious Thai meal beforehand and had fruity drinks that equaled the cost of both of our entrees and appetizer combined. But at least they came with flowers.

It was an overall fabulous weekend, with plenty of relaxation and good times and way too many drinks. I'm 28. Three days of hitting the bottle is a bit much. But it should confirm to you kids that no, I'm not pregnant.*

*Two people in one week asked, and my boss dreamed I had a baby in an airport, so I feel I should set the record straight. But congrats to my cousin Stacey who actually is pregnant!

That's what I get

Remember all of my moaning about how hot it was and how miserable it was sweating all day in the heat of the apartment?

Well, wouldn't you know it, it's coming back to bite me.

It. Is. Freezing.

We cranked up our heater a couple of weeks ago. And although it doesn't run all day, it's definitely getting cold enough that it needs to kick on a couple of times at night and in the morning for it to be comfortable. If our windows were at all decent, I think we could get away without heat for another couple of weeks, but you can literally feel the draft coming from them.

At the end of the year last year we started having trouble getting our very scary wall heater to kick on. We'd have to open the cover to the thermostat and wiggle a sensor to get it to turn on. That worked this year, until last night. No amount of wiggling is getting that puppy to give us the sweet heat.

We woke up freezing this morning, not wanting to get out of bed. My hands are currently like popsicles as I try to type. I just want a happy, comfortable medium.

Off to call the landlord.

Oh my gosh, stupids!

I am running into ridiculous amounts of stupidity today. AND I WORK AT HOME!! And no, Marti is not the stupidity that I'm running into, jerks.

Unfortunately, the stupids are able to find me by phone and via email. If I had to be within spitting distance, I might explode.

Example 1
For the newsletter at work, I send instructions and all content to people in Iowa. They in turn do it up nice and send a proof email. I get an email from one of them regarding the proof:

"The subject line in the proof is different from the one you sent in the instructions, which do I use?"

Um. Maybe the ONE I SENT WITH THE INSTRUCTIONS? And the one I mentioned SEPARATELY IN THE EMAIL. And NOT THE SAME AS THE ONE TWO WEEKS AGO.

Iowans. (sorry non-idiots from Iowa.)

Example 2
A company gets back with me regarding a product information request.

Stupid: "Does this cost money?"

Me: It's editorial, free of charge.

Stupid: Is there anything that costs money?


Yeah, if you want to advertise. But no, what I'm asking for does not cost money. I'm not trying to trick you here.


I could keep going, but don't want to bore with details of my dramatic dumb day.

Have a Bumbling Good Halloween!

Happy Halloween from Marti the Bumblebee!

Assistant Pug

Marti loves to "help" me work. She shares my chair with me when I'm working at the desktop, and she loves sitting as close to me as she can when I'm on the laptop. Her top job duty is making it as difficult as possible for me to move the mouse. She totally deserves a raise for a job well done.

Some days you're the hydrant

You know the saying, "Some days you're the dog; some days you're the hydrant"? Yesterday, I was the hydrant.

I was minding my own business at the dog park, on watch to make sure Marti wasn't devouring mud, as she's grown quite fond of doing recently. I was there, with my squirt bottle handy to spray her should she even think about it, and I felt a warm sensation on my leg. It took a second before it soaked through my jeans and hit my skin, and by then it was too late to figure out who the culprit was.

I hoped at first that it was my water bottle leaking. But I knew that my water wasn't warm. It was thus confirmed upon jean-removal that it was, indeed, dog urine. I guess my new jeans couldn't stay untarnished forever.

Professional Development

Check out what I got to do last week.

The Holy Grail of Jeans

A little background: I have an impossible time finding jeans I like that actually fit. I don't know whether I have a weird butt-to-waist ratio or what, but it takes me hours of shopping to find jeans that fit. If jeans fit in the rear, there is almost always a basketball-sized gap at the back of the waist and that just doesn't work for me.

I bought a pair of Paper, Demin & Cloth jeans a couple of years ago that I LOVED. They were a little pricey at $88, but they fit like a glove and were made of miracle denim that doesn't stretch out no matter how many times you wear them between washes. I had them altered to the perfect length and wore them non-stop. Then Marti ripped a big hole in the thigh. I didn't stop wearing them, of course, but I was a little more limited in where I could wear them.

I bought the jeans at The Buckle, and the only reason I went back recently was to make that specific purchase. A trip in July to the Topeka store was not successful because they didn't sell the brand, but they recommended I go to Lawrence, where I'd bought them to begin with. So when Alan and I were at home for a wedding recently, we stopped into Lawrence to eat fabulous Thai food and to buy my jeans.

I enter the frat-rific store, seeking out the pants in earnest; Alan has no patience for shopping. When I don't see the brand, I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. I ask a nearby salesgirl if they still sell the brand.

"No, but we may have some on sale."

I just knew that it was not meant to be. But she leads me to the sales rack to check. Lo and behold, there was one pair there. My faith in jean destiny restored, I hold my breath as she's looking at the size. I can't remember what size I am because I typically buy in normal "pant" sizes and these were sized in the 20s. I take the jeans to the fitting room to see if I can squeeze in.

I pop out of the dressing room, thrilled to be in jean perfection once again. I'd found a match!

Just wait. It gets better.

We go to the register to check out, only to find out that the jeans are HALF PRICE. And why are they half price, you ask? Only because they'd already been altered to an Erin-perfect length.

So not only did I find the jeans I adored, they were the only pair of that brand in the store, were my size, were half off AND had already been altered to my length thus saving me a trip to the tailor.

JEAN HEAVEN.

The Big Three!

Happy Birthday to little Martikins! Marti turns the big 3 today. Here she is, celebrating by resting her head on the arm of my chair.

She very much deserves to have a special day all to herself. The past few weeks have been a little rough on the poor girl. We got her an eye doctor after seeing some clouds in her eyes. It turns out that her eyes don't close all the way so it makes them dry, leading to discoloration. The girl sleeps with her eyes open half the time, so this wasn't really a shocker. But with daily drops, we can avoid an expensive surgery that would make her eyes close all the way. It would also make her eyes look further apart...no thanks!

Anyway, after getting Marti her very own eye specialist, not two weeks later she comes down with a corneal abscess, a super nasty eye infection. She had to get a shot in her eye, take oral antibiotics, get two different eye drops every six hours, and have two follow-up visits. She also had to wear a cone to prevent her from attacking her eye. No one likes this part, but God, is she adorable?


So after almost two weeks of this regimen, one call to the emergency eye vet because her eye started looking much worse before it started getting better, and lots of dollars later, yesterday she got the all-clear, and I can stop worrying myself sick about her.

She's my little angel though, and worth every penny. If she keeps this up, we'll be heading to the doggie chiropractor next:

Holy Hotness

Ok, summer. You can go away now.

I feel silly even complaining. I mean, I live in Northern California. On the eighth day, after God rested, I'm pretty sure He said, "Oh, and P.S.: Northern California, may you have perfect weather year round."

But as I sit here with a bead of sweat rolling down my temple, I have to think that maybe it's gotten a tad warmer than He planned.

I know, I know. It's nothing like the heat of Kansas. Not even comparable really. On these hot days when it hits 92 degrees, you can go outside and the sweat takes a minute or two to collect on your forehead, unlike Kansas where the sweat pools on your back before you even step outside.

Here's the difference:

Kansas has air conditioning. And because the weather is soooo allegedly perfect out here, a lot of apartments and houses don't have A/C.

Three fans don't really make much of a difference. And because our apartment is situated as it is, getting much of a cross-breeze going is nearly impossible. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't work at home. I could avoid the mid-day heat baking the front window, right where my desk is. If it's under 90 degrees, I can tolerate it. But once the 90 threshold is crossed, God help anyone who crosses my path. I get angry. Thank goodness there was only a day or two that maxed out over 100, because I honestly thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown. I'm not kidding. Just ask Alan. He was the one who had to pick up the pieces of a melted Erin when he got home that night.

And Poor little Marti. When her survival instincts kick in, which is rare, I will sometimes find her laying in the bathroom on the cool tile, the only place in the apartment where it's cool. I'm not going to lie: I've spent several hours this summer, with Marti, cooped up in the bathroom, hunkering down against our version of severe weather. It's almost funny, except that it's miserable and there's no escape.

I have also flipped my lid a couple of times because weather.com can't get it right, ever. They're consistently about 10 degrees off for Menlo Park. And if I'm going to be miserable, I like to at least know how miserable I should be.

I was going through deleting old emails and came across several angry weather-related ones I sent to Alan.

Date: May 16
Time: 2:30
Message: I effing hate weather.com. It's been stuck at 88 degrees all day, which I knew was wrong, and now it's 98. Thanks, WEATHER, I could have told you that.

I want to kill both the messenger and the message. And apparently it's supposed to drop 6 degrees here in about 30 minutes. LIKELY STORY.

Date: August 28
Time: 2:48
Message: It's 100 degrees. AWESOME!!!!!

Date: August 28
Time: 3:05
Message: Have I said how much I hate Weather.com for Menlo Park? It's 86 right now, apparently, but supposed to jump up to 98 by 4 pm. SO AMAZING.

I'm leaving the computer. Too angry. If you need me call.


You can definitely tell what time of day is the worst for me. Last summer there were about three of these miserable days. This year, there have probably been a total of 15. It's supposed to be cooling down. But I still have to make it through tomorrow.

Buenos Aires, Part 3

One of our favorite nights in Buenos Aires was the night we went to see a tango show. The show was quite a bit more impressive than the street tango we saw. The show included the dancing, obviously, but also singing, drums, "toca la guitarra" and crazy clacking ropes. I didn't get the best dancing on video, but this will give you a taste.



Also, this guy was amazing! The video doesn't do him justice.



We also made a visit to the zoo...



...where babies drink Coke out of bottles and you can get so close to the animals that these signs are necessary.


La Recoleta Cemetery was creepy and awesome. Eva Perón is buried there, and if we learned one thing about Argentinians, it's that they love Evita.









A giant flower sculpture that allegedly opens and closes. We didn't see it move, so we took matters into our own hands.

Closed...



And peeling away...



And open...I was lucky, I was the stamen.


And last but not least, the beautiful Japanese gardens. It looks like they've had too much wine and peanuts.


And those are the highlights, people. Normal blogging can now resume.

Oh, and P.S.: One of my favorite things about coming back to the United States, besides being able to use a debit card everywhere and seeing little Marti, was hearing "Welcome Back" from the passport control official.

Buenos Aires, Part 2

So after a warm welcome to BA, we jumped on a bus for a record-breaking 20-hour trip up to Iguazu Falls. We took off in the afternoon for an arrival the next morning at about 9:30 a.m. The seasoned travelers had assured Alan and me that these buses were first class all the way, and they didn't disappoint. While the bathroom could have been a little cleaner, two meals were served, movies were shown, pillows and blankets were available, and the seats almost fully reclined. After a Dramamine, I slept like a baby.

So did the rest of our group.


Alan and I checking out the map of the falls.

The falls are amazing. I can't even describe them, nor should I really try. I'll let you see all of the pictures and videos for yourself.

The falls remind me of the Grand Canyon in that every 10 feet you get a completely different view of the falls.




From here, you could get so close you'd get hit by the mist.



You then take a short boat ride to get over to an island where you get a different view of the falls. Buckle up!


A short train ride and a mile walk get you to Garganta del Diablo, or the Devil's Throat. The walk there...



And the payoff:



Worth 40 hours on a bus, don't ya think?

And the celebratory jump:
Then after our tasty al fresco dinner, we got back on the bus for our return trip. Covert wine ops:


Well done, Adam.

More videos available on YouTube if you didn't get your fill.

Buenos Aires, Part 1

Now that I've sufficiently recovered from vacation—and feel like I'm slacking because Joel has begun posting about his jaunt through South America—I'm ready to get going with trip posts. A little background: After a few margaritas one lonely evening, Alan and I decided that we should go visit Joel, his longtime best bud and what I call his "man-wife." Since Joel has been teaching English in Colombia for several years now, we decided we should pull out the passports and make a visit. With school out for the summer, he was heading out of Colombia and onto saltier Bolivian pastures and was going to be traveling the continent with a couple of friends, so we decided to meet him in Buenos Aires. When we arrived, we joined up with him, Scott (also an old KC friend of Alan's), Scott's new fiancee, Meghan, and Adam, whom we also knew from KU. Turned out to be a great group to travel with, especially great because three of them spoke Spanish. How do you say "very helpful" in Español?

Because we knew we'd be in a group, we didn't plan too much before the trip. But to make good use of our layover in Dallas, Alan pulled out the BA guidebook.

We also called our bank and credit card company from the airport, which turned out to do no good whatsoever, as BANK OF AMERICA shut off our debit account anyway. I'm all for security, except for when you tell them you're going out of the country and they ignore you.

After our 10-hour flight, we arrived in Buenos Aires at 8 a.m., hoping to be met at the airport, but fully expecting to make our way to the hostel on our own. But lo and behold, through the crowd, right in the nick of time, came Joel, our knight in Spanish-speaking armor, and Scott, who had nearly made them both late (allegedly). We headed straight to the hostel that they had gotten the previous day, where we napped, showered and prepared to explore BA. We then hoofed it around the city on our way to buy bus tickets for the next day, and saw the La Casa Rosa, Argentina's White House. But pink.

The gang in front of the Pink House; Joel is the one napping.


One word I learned prior to the trip was "lomo," which is basically a delicious cut of beef. We went out for a great dinner that night, guzzled wine, and tried about 50 different cuts of beef, including sweetbread, before hitting the town. After three bottles of whiskey, one courtesy of an Einstein lookalike, here's the fun that was being had:

Needless to say, Argentina gave us a warm welcome. Next stop, Iguazu Falls. I hope you like pictures of waterfalls.

Back in Estados Unidos!

Hola, amigos! We're back after a fun-filled week in Buenos Aires. We're busy re-bonding with our pug and recovering from travel, but I wanted to check in and give you a brief photo preview of blogs to come. The trip was great. In 10 words, it was Argentine beef, wine, buses, waterfalls, tango, walking, laughter and language barriers. And empanadas. Ok, that's 11.

The largest, cheapest and tastiest kebab ever.


Shopping for wine in a foreign market


First-class buses for 20-hour rides. Meals. Foot rests. Leg support. Fully reclining. No other way to travel.


Iguazu Falls
"Poor little Niagara!"


Beautiful architecture and buildings. Just don't get too distracted lest you step in dog doo. No poo pickup rules in BA.

Best Friends at the Beach

July 6. Beach. Notice the long sleeves, jeans, and general appearance of cold. This is Northern California.


We took Marti to the beach for the first time a couple of weeks ago. It was maybe one of the least relaxing "should be relaxing" type of events. Pugs were allowed, but not off leash, so I had to maintain constance vigilance to make sure Marti didn't jump in the ocean, terrorize small children or eat sand and seaweed. I wasn't able to stop the ingestion of sand. She probably ate a cup of the stuff.

Love. This.

My little words can't do this video justice, so you just have to watch it. It made me smile for four and a half minutes straight.



This four and a half minutes shows how vastly huge the world is. We're all so different. And we're all the same.

Read more about it it at www.wherethehellismatt.com. (It also views more clearly on this site.)

Death Threats from Old People

A woman who lives at the assisted living facility on our street routinely tries to enlist me in plotting her escape. She comes out to the patio and asks me for help, and on a handful of occasions she has tapped on the windows to get my attention. I can read her lips. She wants out.

The other day I was out with Marti, waiting for Alan to join me when “Silvia” started doing slow laps around the patio.

Lap 1
Silvia: “Help me….they’re trying to kill me.”
Me: I’m sure no one’s trying to kill you. Say hi to Marti!

Lap 2
Silvia: “Help me….They’re all crazy.”
Me: Can’t argue with that. Look, Marti’s eating a stick!

Lap 3
Silvia: “Help me…take me home.”
Me: More Marti jabber.

By lap 4, Alan was outside with me and I warned him to be prepared. She asked me to take her home and I told her that I couldn’t do anything to help, and she said, “No, you sure can’t,” almost sarcastically, like I was withholding help to spite her.

Alan was a little nervous, and I’ll admit that being around people with dementia isn’t easy. But as I’m always over there with Marti, I’m more used to it. As we headed back home, I hear, “I hope he kills you.” Now, I could be wrong. Silvia was on the far end of her lap, but seeing as how she had already mentioned people trying to kill her, I’m almost positive I’m not putting words in her mouth.

So, Sherlock Holmes that I am, I finally looked up the facility and confirmed that they cater to those with dementia and Alzheimer’s. It made me feel a little better about the death-murder wish upon me. I just pray that if my mind ever goes, my body quickly follows.

Staying and Going

Thanks to everyone who weighed in on the tough decision Alan and I were facing last week. Good arguments were made, points raised, support given, both in comment form and via email. And while the vote is swayed 53% in favor of moving, Alan and I are going to defy you all and stay. If I'd given you the detail that it was an additional $400 a month would that have made a difference? I'll never know (unless you comment, and by all means, have at it).

Had that apartment not opened up, we wouldn't have given staying here another year a second thought. And it would be one thing if the increase was going to ourselves, in say, a mortgage, but it's another ball of wax because it's basically money down the drain. A drain that goes directly into the landlord's pockets. So, alas, we stay. And we're a little tight and cramped, and hot on some days. But we're also able to go to Vegas and Tahoe and Phoenix on a whim, so we think the tradeoff is worth it. I'd rather travel than have that extra closet anyway. Until another 100-degree day hits and then I'll be cursing my ineptitude. (I also let weather.com have it the other day with a feedback form for their inability to get the current temperature within 14 degrees. I can understand not being able to predict the future, but it's inexcusable if you can't tell me what it's doing now.)

So now that the big decision is made, it's on to thinking about the future, which includes a trip to Buenos Aires! Alan and I will be heading down to Argentina in late July to visit Alan's man-wife Joel, who is currently gallivanting around the great continent to our south. We'll allegedly be meeting him in BA where he will help us make sure we don't order intestines for dinner (or gain our trust and then steer us toward them...).

To make a long blog longer, Alan and I prepared for our trip to the foreign land today by being responsible travelers and getting our proper immunizations. We had to get yellow fever and Hepatitis A shots, and since I can't remember the last time I had any sort of shot, I went ahead and did MMR and tetanus.

Alan went first. Blue steel, he wasn't afraid.



You can tell that this one might have stung a little. Darn tetanus.



Smiling through the pain.



And this one actually did sting a bit, but I played it up for the camera.



I think you can be sure that you married the right person if you have a blast going to the travel clinic to get shot four times in the arm.

To move or not to move...

Alan and I have a dilemma. Another apartment has opened up and we're considering moving. Problem is, we can't make up our freaking minds. So you can help!

Pros
1) It's a 2BR, first floor apartment. Two whole bedrooms and a much bigger living room. Ooooh.

2) Hardwood floors. YUM!

3) It's much cooler (temperature-wise). My current "office" bakes in the afternoon sun. A cooler first-floor apartment opposite this one would mean no Erins going crazy when it hits 100 degrees. I haven't blogged about nearly losing my mind during last month's two-day heat wave because I'm just NOT READY TO TALK ABOUT IT, OK??

4) There is a patio! We could have plants, animals, hammocks, grills.

5) No burping or "other noises" from our neighbor.

6) Ground level, easier for groceries and laundry!

7) No cat/Marti face-offs. No dead mice to trip on in the mornings.

8) Storage in bathroom! Real live counter space in bathroom!

9) The "move" is literally across the driveway. I can see the apartment from here. Sigh (of love).

Cons
1) More money. Our apartment now is dirt cheap (ok, for our area anyway) and the other one is a significant chunk of change more per month. But, had we found it a year ago at this price, we would have been crying tears of joy because it was still on the low end of what we expected to pay out here.

2) Hassle of moving our stuff.

3) Hassle of changing an address and utilities.

4) The kitchen is a little smaller. What we gain in bathroom counter space we lose in kitchen counter. However we do have a place where we could put a table for extra counter space.

5) More space, more junk, more expenditures.

6) The unknown. What if the next neighbor is worse with his burping and "other" noises? What if he loves to jump rope at 2 a.m.?

7) Wallpaper in bathroom is floral. And kinda not awesome.

8) No bookshelves or built-in cubbies in the bedroom. But there are two closets in the "master."

9) We kinda feel guilty because the landlord would give us cheaper rent than other potential renters that offered $100 more and a pet fee...and I feel bad that this dog family might not get the apartment...but our landlord was hesitant about a big dog anyway...GUILT.

10) We'll probably only be at this location for another year, regardless of where "we" land on our next adventure.

See? So many pros! So many cons! Vote. And feel free to comment. Or email. And do not answer C. This is serious, people.

Should we move?

• Yes. In the words of Nike, just do it.
• No. Not worth the time/effort/money.
• Seriously? You're resorting to a blog poll?

Created on Jun 11, 2008

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