I Believe in Monkeys

So, as I mentioned (since I know you're all taking notes, and yes—Virginia, there is a quiz) that my horoscope discussed the upcoming social events in my house:

A brief recap for the kids jonesing for a smoke in the back row:

Tonight you might host a social event in your home, KA. You might be a bit nervous at first, wondering if all will go as well as you hope, but your efforts should produce the results you want. You might be introduced to new contacts, which could lead to increased opportunities in your profession. Take a walk after everyone has left. Your mind will be going a thousand miles an hour, and you'll want to clear your head.

Well, I'm happy to report that I put in more cleaning effort than expected (when you realize that people will be sitting on the floor—it makes one very aware of the merits of vacuuming) and I'm even happier to report that I had much more fun than I could have expected playing Scattergories! Can you say "Fab Five Freddy"— that's a 3-point, nothing but net, "fictional character starting with an F" thank you!

Anyhoo, my horoscope also mentioned meeting new contacts that might lead to increased professional opportunities. Well I haven't yet figured out how you link a geologist, lawyer and a copywriter together. Trust me--I even sacrificed my precious Wikipedia.org surfing time today to ponder this. And the only thing I've come up with linking us (other than LeeAnn of course!) is that they live in the same building as Disco Doug, a cultural party icon of Boulder in the late 90s, who is now a tennis pro. Yeah, you saw that one coming. So, at this point I actually hope we are drifting very far away from the professional opportunities and I'm just gosh darn content with the fact that I met two new, very cool folks that like to play "bored" games and drink wine!

Hobbies for M "making (comma) cookies"

Jaws of Life

Yesterday, for the first time in over 6 years—I went to yoga. This wouldn't be out of the ordinary as many folks my age have become lapsed athletes that are often now lapped when they once again attempt to get back on the fitness track—except for the fact that I live in Boulder. And Boulder is a town where you can hire a fitness trainer to get your little rug-rat crawling faster by instilling the finer points of drafting at an early age.

After my recent softball outing, I had a few doubts about yoga. Part reasonable terror and part ridiculous terror based on an incompetent Bally's instructor years ago that pushed me way too far into a pose. So, as I headed out the door the last words from my roommate the ski coach were "Don't get stuck, and if you do get stuck and it looks like the fire department has to drop by and use the Jaws of Life…have LeeAnn call me first, that would be some great shit."

Needless to say, I'm not too sore and I'm excited to go back. I'm also standing a little taller, sitting a little straighter at my desk. But I think it has nothing to do with stretching and 100% to do with the fact that I didn't get stuck. I suppose to the majority of the folks functioning in proper Boulder-mind set that means I didn't go far enough—but there's always next week. Booyaa!

Barrel of Monkeys

I'm a total wuss. But, that's not really news to anyone. While I like to think of myself as strong-willed, tough and maybe even a little defiant, I'm also hyper-sensitive, hate conflict and totally fear disapproval. Explain that one. Basically, I was that straight-A student, who never learned how to graciously miss an answer or to not follow directions in a noticeable fashion. I always rebelled within the proper Catholic School boundaries, can you say petition anyone?

So, this morning while getting coffee, I reached for a lid...and of course I selected the lid that was connected to ALL the other lids in the stack like a chain of those plastic barrel monkeys. Yet, unlike barrel monkeys, the lids lack the plastic tails that allow them to remain connected. So, during morning coffee mayhem I ended up dropping at least 17 lids onto the coffee condiment or "accessory" table. I never thought that those little lids had it in them to reproduce the sound of a gong.

Quick-thinking panic situations--not good BEFORE coffee either. But, what is the appropriate response?

The table is kind of sticky and gross from everyone pouring sugar or even worse simple syrup and those two tablespoons of coffee that projectile squirt out the tiny, tiny "sip" opening in the top--no matter how much space you leave. And don't even get me started on the wake of stickiness left behind from trying to insert a straw into an iced drink. I swear the ice cubes plot against me every single time.

Is it OK to throw the lids out? It seems wasteful.

Do I put them back in the stack? That seems dirty.

And what exactly are the politics of lid separation? Like when you get just two lids innocently spooning together, can you separate and put the now lonely lid back in the pile? I mean I know my hands are clean…but what about everyone else's?

It was a lose-lose situation, I knew whatever I did I would receive a disapproving look from the barista. But, I can't disappoint my coffee life-line, it's only Tuesday and there are three more work days to fuel for. And most disturbingly, why am I still thinking about this 12 hours later?

Which leads me to horoscopes. I'm such a wimp that I actually check my horoscope for the next day before I got to bed, so I can brace myself for any trauma, conflict or disappoint that might make me wish I had stayed in bed.

I was once a devout horoscope skeptic and then years ago at a copywriting job I actually had to write them. So, I know that a lot of them are a bunch of clichés strung together with vague adjectives. But then I started checking my horoscopes at the end of day, to test them and make sure they weren't self-fulfilling prophecies and I became an addict. So, tomorrow night I was inspired to move our regular "bored game" night from the usual pub venue to my house, and to change the line-up of players a little bit, so I'm of course a little nervous having a few new folks over to our house of mirrors, and as I'm about to turn off the computer for the night…I checked my horoscope for tomorrow, and here is what is said:

Tonight you might host a social event in your home, KA. You might be a bit nervous at first, wondering if all will go as well as you hope, but your efforts should produce the results you want. You might be introduced to new contacts, which could lead to increased opportunities in your profession. Take a walk after everyone has left. Your mind will be going a thousand miles an hour, and you'll want to clear your head.

I guess life can be a barrel of monkeys.

Insult to Injury

I felt that my humbling softball experience last night, was a sign to get back in shape. I began by pumping up my physio ball, a workout in itself. I now understand why parents have the faraway look of all joy in life being sucked out of them when they are left with the task of blowing up water wings.

Then I proceeded to do the Ab-Focus DVD. The entire DVD is a complete smoke and mirrors productions hiding what is basically an hour of sit-ups and crunches. The catch is they have you perched in bizarre positions trying to balance the stoopid ball so that you don't realize that you are doing crunches. Even though I was smart enough to see through their sneaky tactics, the DVD still prevailed. I am literally sore to the core. I predict that breathing will become increasingly difficult in the next few hours.

Glory Days

For the last two years a good friend of mine has been asking me to sub for her softball team, and each time I've had prior commitments that have let me gracefully avoid getting trapped in the storage closet trying to locate and dig out the old mit, so I could once again round bases. But with a season of kickball under my belt, I was finally willing to offer myself on the sub alter of recreational softball last night when she called in need of a spare player so they wouldn't have to forfeit their first game of the season.

Now, I was a actually pretty good softball player throughout my childhood and teen years. In fact I spent several years on the all-star roster of the Canyon View Little League as the first-string catcher. I was short, but also quick, tough and highly skilled at psyching out the batters. Put me in full catcher gear and just try to get past me, just try. But now, too many years later to count...I'm still short and chatty--but not so quick and tough.

I hope these girls didn't think they were getting a ringer, I just spent the entire game trying to avoid utter humilation. At my first at bat, I quickly found that a slowpitch looks nothing like a fastpitch--and that the strike zone is a mysterious black pad behind the plate--huh? I even have to admit to clawing after a passed ball like a crab who had never used it's claw before...a few times. But the ultimate humbling moment of the night was simply returning the ball to the pitcher--me, a girl who could once make a line-drive throw to 2nd base from a squat at home plate--let the ball bounce in front of the pitcher....repeatedly. I guess my glory days of softball are in the past and kickball is more my speed...but I am forseeing a batting cage field trip in search of a little redemption soon...

BBD & The East Coast Fam

OK, so I'm fairly new to the world of MP3s and downloaded music--I've always been a firm believer that album art is art. So, I thought having all my CDs loaded for convenient rotation would be abosulute heaven and joy, the end of scratched CDs and cracked cases...but instead I have developed an aboslute fear of random play. It's not like in my truck when someone digs out the stashed copy of the Spice Girls and you can simply claim that someone left it there on the last roadtrip. We all have that get pumped for the meeting tune hidden somewhere to help us get by, or belted a little Air Supply in the car by ourselves, no lying. But the same excuse doesn't work for, "Gee, who left a copy of Wham's 'The Jitterbug' in my ipod--wow that's weird."

But now my fear of itunes increases. I've always been a music collector and prided myself for unscathing pretentious, yet classic taste. So, today I learned how to use the Smart Playlist feature--where itunes makes a mix of the top 100 songs you listen to. I'm mortififed to admit the Boys 2 Men's 'MotownPhilly' was listed amongt my top 25 most frequently played songs. WTF?

That is just sad and wrong. I don't even want to admit to knowing myself today.

Hey Ho Let's Go!

Oi! Is the ever hipper British version of "Hey!" - with a fabulous nod to the yiddish "woe is me" and note of exasperation, surprise and disgust. But hey, that is life. There is of course a little bit of historical DIY punk in it too.

Ruby. Who wouldn't want to be a Ruby? The Stones, Beatles, Drifters and Soul Coughing all give you musical nods. It's old school sweet like a soda shop or diner, yet Rock-a-Billy sexy. And how can you not think of the Ruby Slippers - yes, yes we all know that they can help you escape Kansas with just 3 clicks of your heels--a mighty feat indeed. But why does no one ever wonder wear the heck the Wicked Witch of the East got a Bedazzler and a bazillion red sequins? What a stylie DIYer was she?

"Hey, Rube!" The universal cry for help amongst the traveling carnival and circus folks. "Hey, Rube" meant that an 'outsider' was attacking one of the group and that everyone must join together and rally against the 'norm'. And of course, the good Doctor, Hunter S. Thompson also titled his ESPN column, later made into a book, "Hey Rube."

So, you put it all together and Hey Ho Let's Go! oi! Ruby