Snow in Kyoto

I think I'm addicted

to warm milk, that is.

How embarrassing!

I drink it before bed, sweetened with Splenda and sprinkled with cinnamon.

And oh, man, is it good!

I go to sleep sooner, stay asleep better, and I love the warm and fuzzy dreams it gives me!

I have major trouble sleeping.  I've tried melatonin, and it puts me to sleep like a NyQuil overdose, but I'm groggy all the next day, too.  I've tried going to bed early.  I've tried going to bed late.  Nothing seems to help.

Until warm milk!  Sometimes the classic cures are the best.

But here's where the addiction comes in.  It's 8:00 p.m., I don't have to be anywhere tomorrow until 3:30 p.m., and already I'm wanting it.  Needing it.  You might say craving it.

I know I have an addictive personality, but this is ridiculous!

My family

So today, my aunt announced that she wants to write a "tell-all book."  My mom mentions this to my grandma at lunch, and grandma starts crying.  So when I call mom to talk, she blows me off, and I get insulted, because, let's face it, I'm part of this family too, whether I like it or not.

I told Mom she ought to just take the whole family out and dump us.

But here's the thing.  I can't imagine what my aunt could possibly have to say about their little circle that anyone outside the immediate circle would want to hear.  So how could this book possibly get published, and therefore how could it make any trouble?  The absolute worst thing I can think of is that some of our in-laws have mafia connections.  And personally, I think that's less shameful than dead cool.

So now I'm curious.  I'm sure I could twist mom's arm to find out.  But I also know I'll regret it.  Stupid family.  Is it too late to run away?

Autumn

Today, it feels like fall.  Oh, sure, it's 10:00 a.m. and already 80 degrees outside, but I don't care.  Me and the world, we know that it's fall.  Maybe it's all the dry leaves from the drought. Maybe the wind is from an autumnal direction.  Maybe it's the quality of the light that says "it's fall."  I don't know.

But what I do know is that fall, my friends, is my spring.  In the fall, I get that sense of hope and new opportunities that most people seem to get in the spring.  I want a new pencil box and supplies.  I want to wear plaid and bundle up in sweaters and climb aboard a school bus and swear that this year I will always do my homework and get really good grades so I can prolong my school experience with as many years of college as possible.

Unfortunately, the school experience, wonderful though it was, is behind me.  But I do know there's so, so much more to life than school.  I'm not even sure you can call those 17 +/- years you spend in school "life" at all.  Certainly not "real life."  Because there's so much more potential and possibility in the real world than there ever was at school.  Today, because it feels like fall especially for me, I can do Anything!

Ya-effing-hoo!

These are the little devils that fell off.  Apparently, my brake pads wore out and were beating up my callipers, which eventually broke and caused the brake shoes to fall off.

Fall off.

Holy shit!

Look at how ground down the poor things are!  I totally missed it!  Dude!  I have got to turn down my iPod!  Also, remember, World's Most Unobservant Person.

They fell off!  Of my car!  My brakes!  Very important!

I had $400 available to have my car fixed.

I thought it would probably cost over $1000.

Hence, all the panicking.

And the drinking.

And the cleaning.

But the garage just called.  $367.35.

Three hundred.  Sixty-seven.  Dollars.  And.  Thirty-five.  Cents.

I tell you, sometimes I don't deserve my luck.

But hear me now.

I will -- finally -- get my car inspection.

I will get my emissions inspection.

I will get to the courthouse and get my property tax receipt.

I will get a nice, shiny new sticker for my license plate.

Because I have learned my lesson.

Big, ringing affirmative.

I.  have.  learned.  my.  lesson!!!

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

The stress!

So I've lived here for nearly a year and a half.  In all that time, I've had two little coolers that just sort of float around my kitchen.  Also a gigantic crock pot that has resided, for lack of a better place, in the cabinet with the dog food.  For a sodding year and a half.  Well, today, thanks to the stress cleaning, I found a place for them!

The Stress:  "Don't say I never did anything for you!"

Apparently, all this time, there's been a little cabinet over my refrigerator. 

Because if you ever want to know what I look like, look up unobservant in the dictionary, and there I'll be, waving vaguely, with a vacant smile on my face.  Don't judge me.  I've got the stress, and my brain has taken a long vacation. 

But back to my new cabinet.  Some people might say that a crockpot intended to feed 12 would not fit inside that little-bitty cabinet.  Those people clearly do not have the stress.

Eep!

Well, my car's off to the mechanic.  And here I am.  Waiting.  Frantically doing dishes with my anti-stress Ultra Palmolive Aroma Therapy Lavender & Ylang Ylang Essences dish soap.  It isn't helping.  My hands are shaking so badly I can't type.  I know it's going to be expensive.  Probably more than I have.  Then what do I do?  I'm scared.

It's so much better when other people get you into these situations.  Then you can scream and yell and throw things and make them figure out how to pay for it.  But since it was nothing but my own stupidity and complete lack of common sense, all I can do is cower here and beg for mercy from whoever might give it.

I think I'll go clean something else.  I'm going to have scoured the surface off of everything in the house pretty soon.  Want me to come to your house next?

No, seriously.

I can be there in five minutes...

Wanna hear a pet peeve?

Sure ya do!

A thing that really annoys me -- one of many -- is women who don't have their own email address.  Who just use their husband's address.  So when they write you, in the "from" field, it says "Joe Smith" instead of "Jane Smith," or whatever.  I mean, it's not like they cost extra money, people!  I mean, we have equal rights and we can vote and all that stuff!  Get your own frigging identity!

Something that might be worse was a man who shared his email address with his fiancee.  It was JoeandJane@whatever.com  Grr!  Talk about needing your own identity!  Mind you, it might just be sour grapes.  He could have shared my email address any time, if you know what I mean!

So, Sarah, how was your weekend?

Well, Internet, I'm glad you asked.

On Saturday, mid Lord of the Rings film fest, the electricity went out.  Okay.  Not an uncommon occurrence.  I called the electric company, popped a DVD (not LOTR -- couldn't get it out of the player) into my laptop, and squandered my battery watching Lost in Translation while knitting.  After the movie, I lit some candles, and carried on knitting, pausing occasionally to call the electric company for an update.  They promised it would be back on by morning.

So when it got too dark to knit, I donned my iPod and let my "favorites" list carry me off to sleep.

When I woke up, it still wasn't on.

So I went down to my parents, because my father was making an emergency breakfast McDonald's run, and because there's strength in numbers.  I spent the day knitting and listening to my iPod, and it really wasn't all that bad.

Then, a full 24 hours after it went out, we had electricity.  Fortunately after Dad had gone for the pizza, so we didn't have to eat anything home cooked or healthy anyway.

I decided I'd better go home and turn on things that shouldn't be off, and turn off things that shouldn't be on, and recharge various batteries that I'd run down.

When I was heading back for pizza, I realized that I'd never gotten Saturday's mail, so I hit my brakes to stop and get it, only I didn't.  Stop, that is.  At least not right away.  Eventually, with much fussing and grinding, I did get stopped before I went across the road, down the ravine and into the creek (I kid you not!)  So I put my car in park, put on the parking brake, and had a little think.  Then I got out and got the mail and had another little think.  And this was the conclusion I came to:  No way was I going to try going down again.  So I put the brake pedal to the floor and the car in reverse, and backed back up the driveway. 

Then I started thinking maybe I was over-reacting, and my driveway was muddy from all the rain, and that was all.  So I cautiously eased forward and tried to stop.  And I didn't.  So I put the car in park.  No stoppage.  So I put the parking brake on.  No stoppage.  Finally, I turned off the engine.  Eventually, there was stoppage.

Now, considering how much I drive and where all I've been, I have to say that I love, love, love my car for dying in the driveway of my very own home.  Thank you, car!  Love you!

Anyway, things settled down after that.  I decided to wait until Wednesday to have my car towed to the shop, because all in all, I think it's going to be pretty expensive, and I'd like to have another paycheck to work with.  Then this morning, I get an email from my dad "call us as soon as you get up, we need to see about getting our cars fixed."  Because oh, by the way, the second my car broke, Dad started talking about how his brakes had been making noise and how imperative it was that he get them fixed Right Now!  Copycat.  Gah.

So I called him.  And it was obvious that he was still half asleep.  He also had his agenda for how he wanted things to play out which didn't work for me, but that didn't seem to matter to him.  Very annoying.  So anyway, he's off getting his little squeak looked at, and I'm carrying on with my plans for Wednesday.  But things are very bitter in the father-daughter relations for the moment.  Not to mention the husband-wife relations, as my mother, who is also finding him annoying, just mentioned the possibility of hitting him over the head with something so we could have a bit of peace.  Go Mom!

So, to recap, no car, happy to be alive, may have to kill my dad, got electricity.  I think I'll call it a draw.

Burrito Heaven

I just ate the best burrito, hands down, that I have ever had.  Oh, my, it was good!  So good!  And it was frozen!  It's  Cedarlane's Burrito Grande with Salsa Roja.  So good!  I could almost get my lazy ass out again and go back to the store and buy more, if it wasn't 100 degrees outside!  Did I mention it was good?  And vegetarian!  And organic!  And on my diet!  I love you, Cedarlane!  Love you!  Love you!

Yay/Meh

I've realized that I've never done a follow-up on my two weight loss secret weapons.

1)  Yourself!Fitness.  Still lovin' it!  Maya regularly kicks my ass for 15 minutes a day.  I've always said I don't need a personal trainer, but a personal mafia guy with a pair of brass knuckles and an automatic weapon (and if he also handles nutrition "problems," so much the better!  "You walk into that McDonald's, I break your kneecap."  That's my kind of diet!)  I jest.  She's very nice about it, Maya is, really.  Just don't cross her!

2)  SlimMints:  The big surprise!  I think they work!  I really do!  Maybe it's just psychosomatic, but I don't think so somehow.  Usually my problem with dieting is that I get hungry -- and I mean hungry! -- about an hour after I eat, no matter what.  And once I get hungry, here comes the headache.  You know, the kind that won't go away even if you throw a Big Mac and a couple handfuls of Tylenol at them?  (Stop!  Think!)  Well, if I take the Slim Mints regularly, I don't get crazy mean hungry, and even if I do get a headache, it's way less violent, and actually goes away!  Hooray!

So two thumbs way up for both of my secret weapons.

And now to the bitching.

Note to self:  A)  If work calls, don't answer.  At best, you won't care about what they have to say.  At worst, you'll hate what they have to say with the fire of a thousand suns.  B)  If work leaves you a message, do not call them back. (See A above.)

Yep, that's right.  It's off to the state capitol tomorrow, early in the morning, for more trudging around getting lost and paying exorbitant rates for parking.  In 100 degree weather, no less.

Sigh.