We All Have Our Shortcomings

Not all of us can be good at everything, right? For example, Heb is really bad at remembering idioms. She's always mixing and matching them, like "don't count your balloons before they pop" or "don't put all your eggs in the same nest." It's really amusing, especially since she has a Ph.D. 'n all.

Another one of my friends is really bad at feigning interest. If he thinks a story is boring or a joke is not-so-funny, he'll stare ahead blankly or even look at his watch until the person he's talking to waves the white flag in conversational defeat. The upside of this is that if you manage to keep his interest, you feel like a professional entertainer, deserving of your own HBO show.

And me? Well, I'm bad at lots of things, most notably: spelling, swimming, directions, knives and long distance running. To make up for it, though, I'm extra good at French braiding, handstands, puns and bubble letters. Oh, and I’m at least above average when it comes to playing Taboo, especially if Greg is on my team!

Over the last few years, I’ve been working on my shortcomings. Progress to date:

• Learned how to spell “exercise” and “razor” (not so easy)
• Figured out that you’re supposed to reach really far ahead when you swim, which seems to be helping. I also got a polka dot bikini which is mostly unrelated but still worth mentioning.
• Got an iPhone with the maps app! (Is that cheating?)
• Have taken on Dayle’s husband Larry as my knife use coach. Well, more like he threw a fit a few weeks ago when he saw me cutting tomatoes for my Gay Pride Rainbow Pasta Salad and forced me to practice tucking in my thumb.

That just leaves running. Well, friends, the day has come for me to take on a new challenge, especially now that I’m funemployed with some “flexibility” in my schedule. Convinced by “Rob’s-baby-cousin-Alex” as I like to call him, I signed up for BootCampSF, which began last week. I had heard great things about it, but was terrified of the running part. Terrified! Well, they’d ease us into it, right?

Umm, no. I showed up on the first day and immediately had to run 1.5 miles! Without stopping! As I jogged around Dolores Park (with a pained look on my face no doubt), memories of dreaded high school soccer team practice came flooding back. I was instantly reacquainted with my 16-year-old self huffing and puffing through the neighborhood behind my teammates, hoping that the boys team wouldn’t run by and see me hunched over with a cramp in my side and my Umbros (OMG, Umbros!) riding up in a not-so-cute way.

Well, the big news is that I did it! I was certainly not the fastest of the group, but I wasn’t the slowest either. And the teacher/coach girl made me buy real running shoes, which means I really can’t drop out now--they're still so white! Rumor has it that we'll be running 5 miles before the end of the 6-week program. I feel nauseous just thinking about it. (Confession: I just spelled nauseous wrong and spellcheck had to fix it.)

Stay tuned for more Bootcamp trials and additional progress on my "Things I'm Bad At" list. In the meantime, I'll try writing nauseaus in bubble letters to see if that helps.

---------------

ps. Exciting new business idea: what if there were a spelling bootcamp? The drill sargeant would be dressed like a Catholic school teacher and she'd make you run a mile every time you misspelled a word. Either way, I'd get to tackel something on my "Things I'm Bad At" list!

Dear Blog,

I swear I still care about you. Somehow, I let the chaos of life get between us. Lame, I know. Since last I've written, I've been busy:

• bridesmaiding for Dayle, who had a real, live photo booth at her wedding reception (note: somebody add this to "stuff drunk people love")
• talking to Heb about the fact that babies are no longer allowed to have blankets in their cribs due to SIDS prevention (It's true! They just have to lay there, blankie-free, while contemplating their existance.)
• learning about the splendor of Airstream trailers from Marisa's dad who drove his to the Strawberry Bluegrass Festival this year. He even let us hang out inside with him during the fierce rainstorms (read: indulged us while we were total babies about the weather)...joining us in a game of dominos and in eating way too much cheese. One moment of awesomeness was when he whipped out this GPS/calculator/computernerd device to determine the best travel route and schedule for attending both the fall Strawberry event and Burning Man over the Labor Day week...in his Airstream! Marisa´s dad = modern-day Hercules.
• staying for a few nights at a fancy conference hotel here in SF where my coworker had a top-of-the-line massage chair in her room. Did you know you could ask for that? Apparently, you can ask for anything these days. "Yes, I'd like a King bed, a Sharper Image massage chair and one mechanical bronco, please."
• visiting NYC/NJ where it was 95 degrees all weekend. While everyone else freaked out and worried about the babies and the seniors, my friend Michelle, who shares my inhuman tolerance for heat, and I moved one step closer to reaching cheese plate nirvana. (Note: Michelle and I have an infinite arsenal of ideas for "sure-to-be-smash-hit businesses" that we could start together. A cheese/fruit plate coffee table book has now been added to the running. There will be all sorts of themes such as "Cracked Out in Amsterdam," which will be a lively display of crackers paired with Old Amsterdam cheese--my fave--and garnished with tulips and rolled up dollar bills. Correction: Euros.)

As you can see, I've had a lot of really important things going on. Do you forgive me now?

xoxo,

me

Enigmatic Events

As you know, my friend Dayle (of inline skate marathon fame), recently got engaged. While I'd love to go into great detail about my enthusiasm regarding this development, I shall refrain as to do so would necessitate going back in time to recount various scenarios from her days as a single woman. For some, this type of historical recounting might involve a few cute stories and maybe a couple "oh no you didn't" moments. But when it comes to my dear friend Dayle, such exploration would require much more than a mere blog post written by some girl with a pale pink website. For shame!

You see, attempting to fully capture and effectively communicate this notably colorful and uniquely mystifying period of time would be akin to taking on the challenge of writing and directing a film that tells the story of, say, the Bible--a hefty task that must strike the perfect balance between history, art, and soul. Perhaps this era would be best explored via a limited print coffee table book devoted to the seemingly impossible kaleidoscope of realities suggesting intersecting planes where a tattooed Bridget Jones dates John Cusack's character from High Fidelity, the two weaving in and out of your favorite scenes from Clerks and The Bird Cage.

Each glossy page would depict individual situations where stories unfold via key quotes (italicized and bolded in breakout side boxes), tell-tale photos (preferably in black and white for a dramatic, historical look), and reproduced supporting resources such as legendary emails and third-party testimonials (footnoted for historical accuracy). Move over The Cult of Mac [Illustrated, Hardcover] here comes Dayle: The Single Years.

Alas, I don't possess the vision necessary to own the task of archiving and immortalizing the enigmatic events that transpired during this rich period of time. Perhaps one day the subject matter will serve as the basis for an epic novel or a perhaps a pivotal body of research that makes waves in influential circles (do those still exist?). Until the story of Dayle's single years becomes a best seller, I'll have to brag about her for another reason and that reason is that she and her fiance, Larry, just made a purchase way cooler than the kind other engaged couples make. Forget tastefully monogrammed thank you cards--they bought a vineyard.

It's true! Dayle explains the decision as a strategic tactic to avoid having to combine two apartments-worth of possessions when she moved in with Larry. Instead, they just bought a second place where they can use their extra coffee pot, sheet sets, and silverware. And if you're going to buy a second home, why not buy one with a vineyard and an ATV on the property, especially if you like to wear cute cargo pants and drink wine?

So this was a long lead up to announce that I got to visit their new place a few weekends ago where:

1) Larry taught me how to change a tire with a lug wrench and a ratchet (see above photo, mid-job)

2) We laid around in pj's and tried to think of names, logo ideas, and marketing strategies for their wine. My big idea at the moment is to give away airplane-sized bottles of the best batch along with the purchase of Dayle's coffee table book...kind of like how the Basic Instinct DVD came with an ice pick pen. Not only will readers be exposed to and forever hooked on this spectacular Sangeovese blend, but they'll be headed toward the right frame of mind necessary to immerse oneself in Dayle: The Single Years.

A Golden Opportunity

While our overall happiness is clearly tied to big things like the status of our home, health, job and personal relationships, I find that the role of those smaller life components is not to be underestimated. I was pleasantly reminded of this today after purchasing a new shower curtain liner and also a watch battery. Suddenly, a relatively low key weekend became a marker of a new life chapter--the chapter where I take a shower without feeling like a failed homemaker while staring at an unforgiving patch of soap scum and where I no longer have to hunt down my cell phone in the huge bag I always carry in order to see what time it is. Why both of these tasks took me months to accomplish is beyond me.

Another key purchase that took place this weekend was a pair of gold, shiny heels, certain to make a BIG difference in my wardrobe. Suddenly, old outfits take on a whole new look--a look of glamor, a look of pizazz. Gone are the days when I'm the girl in jeans and a black sweater and black shoes. I'm now the girl in jeans and a black sweater and...GOLD! SHINY! HEELS!

Picture it: Yours truly walks into a fabulous bar in the Castro wearing her new shoes. Within seconds, the Scissor Sisters song playing on the sound system comes to a screeching halt as the well-dressed, perfectly sculpted men begin to whisper and point in my direction. One by one, they make their way over to me, asking me where I got the heels and if I'd like to come to a dinner party at their apartment next Friday and am I watching my carbs? "Haight Street, yes and yes!," I'd answer as they walked me home by way of Dolores Park, arm in arm....with the headlights of the oncoming #33 Stanyan bus glimmering off my new shoes.

After launching a whole new life chapter with the help of nothing more than a shower curtain liner, a watch battery and a pair of gold shoes, my latest idea for "an exciting new business" is an alternative therapy program wherein clients receive a package containing the three aforementioned items. Imagine all the time and money that could be saved by skipping hours and hours of professional therapy, not to mention the exhilarating rash of fashionable shoes on parade around the city? Clients will feel good about their homes (now that their showers are free of unsightly soap scum), decrease their stress levels (now that it's so easy to find out what time it is) and win new friends (with the help of their stylish shoes). Move over fancy psychoanalysts, here comes The New Chapter Program.