word of the day

Who has heard of this word before?! and how do you even say it? Anyway, here it is courtesy of dictionary.com.

Brobdingnagian \brob-ding-NAG-ee-uhn\, adjective: Of extraordinary size; gigantic; enormous.

The venture capital business has a size problem. A monstrous, staggering, stupefying one. Brobdingnagian even.
–Russ Mitchell, "Too Much Ventured Nothing Gained", Fortune, November 11, 2002

Any savvy dealer . . . will try to talk you up to one of the latest behemoths, which have bloated to such Brobdingnagian dimensions as to have entered the realm of the absurd.
–Jack Hitt, "The Hidden Life of SUVs", Mother Jones, July/August 1999

This is for you ML, "That's what she said!"

baby got back?

Earlier last week my morning commute allowed me enough time to stop and get a Starbucks treat to start my day. I was happy and excited to finally try the raspberry-mocha combo that I missed out on a couple of weeks ago. My boss, knowing some of the dating drama that has been a part of my world recently, had suggested that I hang out at Starbucks more since she told me of another person she knew who found his girlfriend at the famous coffee hang out. As I was waiting for my wonderful brew, I have to admit to venturing a look around at several men who caught my eye. One in particular held my attention for a few moments longer than the rest, but he was still ordering when my cup came calling, so I grabbed my joe and headed on my way.

The joy of my you-got-to-work-early-so-you-deserve-a-treat reward only lasted for a few moments as I surveyed my car situation. There was a large Infiniti sedan that was parked so close to my Mini that I would have to be at least half my size in all directions in order to comfortably enter my car. After my initial frustration I took on the challenge to make a way into my vehicle, and gave quite a show with my shimmy-shake coffee-balancing dance while utilizing the whole five inches my door was allowed to open without bumping the Infiniti. I had just settled into the driver’s seat and found the home for my coffee when the handsome holder-of-my-attention from the counter knocked on my window. “I’m so sorry,” he managed once my window was down, “I saw you getting into your car, and I didn’t realize I had parked so close, I’m really sorry.”

Now I’m not claiming to have the most stellar repartee, but I do have moments of witty cleverness, so let’s review some of the things I could have said in response to his apology: “I guess the next coffee is on you” in a teasing tone with a twinkle in my eye, or “your smile is thanks enough” with a warm sincere smile, or “well this will cost you!” with mock demand as I hand him my number. Again, nothing outstanding, but answers I would be proud to claim. What I said instead, to the cute man standing at my window who had just witnessed my slap-stick comedy kind of struggle into my car, and who was awaiting my reply to his apology, to this man I said, “I didn’t think my a** was that big!” That’s really what I said, “I didn’t think my a** was that big!” WHO SAYS THAT!!! I am certain those words have never crossed my lips before in my life! Yet in the rare opportunity to show this handsome man my cute ways, smart wit, and fun confident personality, I instead choke and default to self-deprecation! He smiled and walked away unaware of my stealth flirtation attempt, while I grimaced and drove off marveling at my social ineptness.

the things they carry

My friend Y, recently wrote a beautifully poignant blog about the hard things we carry. I guess it hit home for me. The last couple of weeks have been hard on me, and my heart, but despite the load I carry (which I’ll probably write about later), it’s hard to watch the people I love go through difficult things. In a way you hope that you can carry some of the burden, but really the weight will always be heaviest with them. As a result, I see all these emotions they are feeling with an inability to feel them myself. Maybe this is my defense mechanism so I can hold it together. But I do predict that sometime next week or the week after, it will all catch up to me, and I’ll have myself a good cry. Maybe then it will be lighter. I only hope until then that I can hold hands and be a support to the heavy lifters.

My mother and grandmother
My Great Aunt Alice passed away this week.

My sister
A co-worker friend was in a car accident over the weekend and he passed away this week.

My roommate
For the past five months my roommate has been battling stomach cancer.
Yesterday, we found out that a nephew of hers was shot and killed while coming home from work.

My friend
My friend T’s father, whom I adore, has had several bouts with a couple of different kinds of cancer. The most recent was a small, metastasized lump in his hand from his renal cancer from ten years ago. A few months ago he was given a clean bill of health. However, after a check-up this weekend, they believe the spot they have been watching in his kidney cavity is growing.

You are all in my heart, and I hope the burden will be eased, or shareable soon.

m.i.a.

I know I have been missing in action from the blog front recently, but I going to try and make up for it in the next couple of days. There is plenty to say, just not enough hours to say it.

bunnies & birds

The above is artwork from a co-worker's son. He is six. I was amazed by his bunny at Easter time, but his bird is even better. Can you believe a six year old?!? Apparently, he is a golf prodigy too. I really don't know him, but I'm in love with this little boy.

the stars are aligned

Today at lunch we went to a little hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese place, Vinh Loi Tofu, which had a write-up in the LA Times. It literally only has three tables in the place, but the food is great. If ever you are in the Reseda area and hungering for Tofu you should check it out. Anyway the funny thing is we were competing for a table with the actor, Hector Elizondo. I remember him most recently from the Princess Diaries (don’t judge me, I’m sure you secretly wanted to see it too!), but I also loved him as the doorman in Pretty Woman, and I really enjoyed him in Chicago Hope. So running into an actor in the LA vicinity isn’t necessarily funny, or unusual for that matter, but it is a little funny in an odd way considering this is the second time in a couple of months that we have run into him at different places at lunch time. Hmmm, maybe I’m destined for the movies!?! Or maybe we will only ever just consume Vietnamese and Shabu at the same time.

where the sidewalk ends, and other tales from the airport

Beginning of trip on Friday:
My favorite tale from my weekend airport experiences involves the moving sidewalks found in most airports these days. I love these modern wonders; they are like giant treadmills, but bouncier, and I feel so productive when I am walking on one. I especially love them when I am in a rush, and trying to catch a plane after being detained by the tightened security measures, but that’s another story.

So I flew into SF, and was making my way to my gate when I came upon the much loved modern wonder of a sidewalk, and even though the timing didn’t necessitate a mad rush, I did want to walk on the moving sidewalk; go ahead, call me crazy! Not to mention that as an adult it’s the closest I get to a trampoline, and who could pass up something even remotely reminiscent to a trampoline? At this point in the story it is worthy to suggest that there is an unwritten code of the moving sidewalk by which people generally abide: those who want to walk do so on the left, while those who want to stand do so on the right; doesn’t everyone know this!?! And, here is where the conflict arises. I came upon a middle-aged couple taking up the entire sidewalk with their standing. This wasn’t necessarily unusual, but in their standing the woman looked back and saw me coming; instead of moving aside and following the code of the sidewalk she turned back around, stood her ground, and made me ask her in my ever-so-kind tone, “Excuse me, please.” She begrudgingly moved aside, and let me pass, but not without comment. Turning to her husband she said in a voice loud enough for my benefit, “I don’t understand why people use this sidewalk if they are going to insist on walking!” I walked on laughing, but wanted to turn and retort, “I don’t understand why people insist on standing still on the moving sidewalk!” but alas, the comment stayed locked in my head for my amusement alone.


Earlier in the day while I was going through the lovely tightened airport security, I was asked to step aside while one of my bags was searched. I was in no way alarmed since this has happened before. The TSA officer took my messenger bag off to another table, and I took the opportunity to put back all of the contents of my life that by requirement were spilled on the security conveyor belt. I was mostly put back together and clad with footwear again when he said, “Ma’am, can you please step over here?” stated more as a statement versus a question. Again, not too alarmed, but more a twinge of concern. He then guided me to another higher-ranking TSA officer, and handed over a knife he had found in my bag. Okay, the twinge of concern was now a bit more elevated. It is true I had a knife, but it’s a kitchen paring knife, and I had no clue it was in my bag. I explained to the TSA officer that I had used the same bag a few weekends before to go to Catalina and I had the paring knife along to cut apples for a snack; I totally forgot it was in my bag. She seemed to believe my story, but as she held the knife up to the ruler she let me know that anything over three and a half inches they are required to call the authorities. Thankfully my knife hovered right at the three point five mark, and after determining my happiness to turn over the knife they let me go. I know that this might seem like a huge stretch, but for just a moment I felt I had a real glimpse of what it might be like to live in a government-run country, the kind where an individual’s rights are disregarded, and fear is the norm in ruling the masses. I never was fearful, just the twinge of concern, and my situation ended without incident, but somehow it made me appreciate the freedom we do experience every day.


End of trip on Monday:
My day began yesterday morning at 2:30am with a mad dash to pack up the final vestiges of a weekend away, and to catch an early flight out of Portland. Let’s just say, it makes for an interesting Monday morning to start it so early. Mondays suck for me anyway, so let’s just tack on four more hours of bliss and throw in two flights and airport parking to add to the joy of the day. The funny thing is, aside from me trying to amputate my toe with a gas pump it was a pretty descent day. On my second flight I met a woman who flew from Seattle to Burbank for the day just to audition for an R&B sax spot in Beyoncé’s band. I thought that was pretty cool and gave her a ride to the audition (it was just down the street, but easier to drive than walk in heels). Who knows, maybe I’ll know someone who knows Beyoncé! Most likely not, but I think it is still cool.


Last story, but I'm tired so no connections or flourish. I stopped to get gas and the gas pump popped out of my tank and fell on my big toe, which caused me to double over in pain and cry. My toe was bleeding, and there were no paper towels to be found. When I finally found the gas station attendant, I went off on him. He heard about his faulty equipment and lack of paper towels, and then I demanded some sort of antiseptic to clean my toe. In the beginning he wasn’t very helpful, but he found the first aid kit and watched me while I nursed my wound. I then felt guilty for yelling at him, and apologized letting him know that the reason I yelled was because I was in pain. He didn’t say anything in response, but the initially unhelpful man who wanted to break out the disposable gloves before getting near my bloody toe, softened into a kind man who wouldn’t let me finish bandaging my toe, and instead insisted that he wrap it in gauze and three more band-aids. My toe still hurts, but a little kindness goes a long way, and I’ll still buy fuel from his station.

So this is where the sidewalk ends.

…orange you glad I didn’t say banana?!

I’m sad… apparently Starbucks no longer carries Valencia as a flavor of syrup. I love coffee, but I rarely get a special cup of brew. An Americano is my drink of choice, simple, straightforward, and economical. I will switch between decaf and half/caf, or hot versus iced, but for the most part nothing else really changes. That is until I need a very special treat. These special treats usually only come around in relationship to cheering myself up after some issue with a boy, and this morning I needed a special treat. I had my heart set on adding one pump of Valencia and one pump of mocha to my grande decaf Americano with room order, only to be foiled by the barista who not only informed me that they no longer carry the Valencia syrup, but they haven’t had it for a long time. There was an accusatory attitude behind the statement as if she were saying, “You couldn’t have really liked it that much, if you didn’t know that we no longer carry your precious orange syrup.” Go ahead stab me, and then twist the knife! Does no one but me appreciate the special citrus goodness that when combined with a hint of chocolate and deep rich espresso becomes a magical elixir with the powers to heal (or at least mend a little bit) a broken-heart?! I wanted to scream, “It hasn’t been that long since I’ve had a boy-issue, so you couldn’t have been out for very long!”, but instead I calmly and rationally tried to come up with another flavor. I couldn’t think, and so consequently defaulted to peppermint. The peppermint-chocolate-espresso marriage does have its own special merits, but after this morning’s experience, I believe it only really has broken-heart-healing-powers around Christmas time. I think tomorrow I’ll have to try the raspberry-chocolate-espresso combination for its super-hero-heart-healing-power. I know that Starbucks is all the rage with bananas right now, but I really doubt that fake banana would do the trick for me.* Too bad, it would have worked better with my title… hmm, maybe banana coconut? I’ll keep you posted.

*No double entendre intended.

a whisper and slam

Life is a series of beginnings and endings. The problem is the beginning comes so softly, just a whisper, while the ending crashes and slams with echoes that last far after it’s gone. I just wish I could be more aware of those early whispered beginnings, the ones that mean something.

i saved 15 minutes!

I’m so excited! I got to work in just under 30 minutes today. The normal commute of at least 45 minutes is now history; I have found the key to saving those 15 minutes of precious morning time. I just have to leave the house at 6am. No problem! Who knew that no one drives at 6am?!? I was even able to get in a small workout! Can you tell I am very excited? So what if my eyes are burning from sleep deprivation, and I managed to forget my carefully chosen outfit at home, I’m saving 15 minutes!

PS–Yes, I am fully aware that there is a slight edge to this that is verging on psychopathic, but don’t commit me yet; let’s just see how long my early morning commute lasts. I’m sure my 15-minute-savings-euphoria will wear out, I’m guessing about the same time as the caffeine.

a game of i-spy

I just realized that I am the only single person I know who shops at Costco. This fact dawned on me with vivid clarity, as I sat by myself eating my Chicken Caesar Salad from the Costco food court last night. All around me was the family-bustle, mothers and fathers swirling around their 2.5 children with their shopping carts filled to the brim with the staples of a household. And me with my meager holdings of a pair of Champion workout pants and my Dove moisture-rich shower gel. I sat observing as a mom played peek-a-boo with a little one, and another cajoled her child to finish the now cold pizza, while numerous dads waited at the window for countless hotdogs and mammoth slices of pizza, and I just sat and observed, and jealously longed for the banal task of family shopping. It reminded me of a scene from When Harry Met Sally. Meg Ryan’s character Sally was musing about a time she babysat a friend’s little girl. The little girl and her played a game of I-spy; after several of the usual outdoor objects, the little girl exclaimed, “I spy a family!” That one little phrase brought Sally to tears, and I understand that heartache more than ever. For now, I guess I will find contentment as the only single person hanging out at the Costco food court watching the families go by.

unfaithful

Yesterday when I was running errands after work I heard this song for the first time and it made me very sad. Admittedly, I’m really emotional right now, but songs don’t usually affect me like this one did. Then last night I talked to a man who lived this song. His wife carried on an affair for five of the eight years of their marriage. My sadness had a point of reference. I’m sure the connection can be written off as some sort of coincidence. Or… maybe the universe interacts with us in much deeper ways than I understand.

"Unfaithful" by Rihanna

Story of my life
Searching for the right
But it keeps avoiding me
Sorrow in my soul
Cause it seems that wrong
Really loves my company

He's more than a man
And this is more than love
The reason that the sky is blue
But clouds are rolling in
Because I'm gone again
And to him I just can't be true

And I know that he knows I'm unfaithful
And it kills him inside
To know that I am happy with some other guy
I can see him dying

I don't wanna do this anymore
I don't wanna be the reason why
Everytime I walk out the door
I see him die a little more inside
I don't wanna hurt him anymore
I don't wanna take away his life
I don't wanna be... A murderer

I feel it in the air
As I'm doing my hair
Preparing for another date
A kiss up on my cheek
He's here reluctantly
As if I'm gonna be out late
I say I won't be long
Just hanging with the girls
A lie I didn't have to tell
Because we both know
Where I'm about to go
And we know it very well

Cause I know that he knows I'm unfaithful
And it kills him inside
To know that I am happy with some other guy
I can see him dying

I don't wanna do this anymore
I don't wanna be the reason why
Everytime I walk out the door
I see him die a little more inside
I don't wanna hurt him anymore
I don't wanna take away his life
I don't wanna be... A murderer

I lost his trust
I might as well take a gun and put it to his head
Get it over with
I don't wanna do this anymore

I don't wanna do this anymore
I don't wanna be the reason why
Everytime I walk out the door
I see him die a little more inside
I don't wanna hurt him anymore
I don't wanna take away his life
I don't wanna be... A murderer