May 2006

Vanessa just moved out. 🙁 After an evening of just raunchy and hilarious joking and laughing with her, her boyfriend, and their future roommate/her martial arts trainer, Vanessa and her boyfriend picked up the last of her stuff here and the three of them left. As she pulled her SUV out of my garage, she waved sadly at me and I laughed and waved back, closed the garage door after her, and came back into a house that is so incredibly silent after all the raucous between the four of us just minutes before. Those two guys have the same inappropriate humor as me, except I don’t get some of their movie references. Earlier, as we walked out of the Japanese restaurant, Vanessa and I in front, the guys behind us, I overheard the trainer say to her boyfriend, “This is the most fun I’ve had in weeks.” I think we may have scared or irritated some of the patrons in the restaurant with how much fun we were having.

I wandered upstairs and looked into the spare room and was surprised it was not nearly as empty as I’d expected it to be. And I realized it was all my stuff. She’d put everything back the way it was when she moved in, just as she’d done with her bathroom, except for a few candle additions. I’m sitting on my new recliner in the living room, and as I look around, I note the only changes that prove she’d ever lived here: the missing dining room table and chairs; a huge bunch of yellow roses, daisies, lilies, eucalyptis and bells of Ireland in a vase; an equally huge wicker gift basket wrapped so beautifully I don’t know how I’m gonna bring myself to open it, filled with so many things I love that she has learned in these past two months living with me — Hawaiian lei flower-shaped floating candles from Illuminations, a gourmet milk chocolate bar w/almonds, white chocolate bar, bottle of floral white wine, a package of scented clear tea lights, a “Private Party Kit” from Frederick’s of Hollywood (I confess I have no idea what’s in that box), an AMC movie giftcard, and a gift certificate to a fancy restaurant she’d been touting, Anaheim White House Restaurant. She said it was a date in a basket in which she’d provided everything from entertainment and dinner to after-dinner events.

When she was packing the last of her stuff into boxes upstairs earlier, I heard her talk to Dodo and saw my stairwell light up with her camera flash several times. After only 2 short months, I think she anticipates missing us as much as Dodo and I miss her already. *sniff*

(In an episode of “Friends” where Chandler had decided —

[Haha, Vanessa just called me from the road. She said her trainer said that I’m “really really really cool” and also, “she’s HOT!” Vanessa always makes my day.]

— to move in with Monica, and the two break the news to Joey that Chandler’s moving out and to Rachel that she has to move out so Chandler could move in, the four roommates had teary goodbyes about how “it’s the end of an era!”)

The only reason I know today is Dragon Boat Festival Day is because my mother gave me a calendar that superimposes the Chinese lunar calendar over the Western calendar, and then she’d gone on various days and drawn little pictures of what the day is. For today, she drew little Chinese “dzong zi” (sticky rice with meat and veggies wrapped and steamed in a bamboo leaf) in the square. True to form, Mr. W and I are gonna have a pork and mushroom dzong zi each for lunch today.

My mommy’s so cute. Unfortunately, her cuteness is a necessity driven by the shameful fact that I’m nearly illiterate in Chinese so she needs to illustrate instead of deferring to the preprinted holidays designated in Chinese on the calendar.

I’m gonna take belly dancing on Thursdays beginning in a few weeks. That’ll replace yoga (which Mr. W says he’s starting to hate). There are a few coworkers that took it together this past session and one of them has been on me about joining in. Vanessa and I have been saying we want to do that anyway. I hope Vanessa is able to make Thursdays with us, that’d be really fun! By next month, it’s gonna be weights, running, jujitsu and bellydancing. Don’t you guys wish you live closer to me? You could come, too! (I have no idea whom I’m talking to. *looking around* Uh…Jordan! *pointing*)

Speaking of running, I did 4 miles at lunch today. The heat almost lifted me away like a dirigible. My trainee did over 2 miles next to me. She’s now able to sustain a 5-min run. That’s really impressive.

Oh yeah. This Sunday, I was in the emergency room at like midnight and the nurse took my blood pressure. He said, “Your heart’s really good! You work out? Run a lot?” I looked over at the machine. My pulse was 55, which is lower than I’d ever seen it, it’s usually in the high 60s to low 70s. Unfortunately, my diastolic (or systolic, which ever one means the higher number) blood pressure was 134 or 136, I can’t remember which, and I asked him isn’t that kinda high? He said for my age, “high” would be 140. I said, “Isn’t it getting kinda close to that?” He said dismissively, “Eh, you’ve been up all night.”

Speaking of exercise and goals and stuff, I hear Hawaii is a great place to take surfing lessons; the water’s warm, the instructors give discounts to women, you’re learning with other beginners so you don’t have to feel stupid… so I may be crossing something new off my old goals list after all come October/November.

I couldn’t fall asleep last nite after I got home, so I started flipping through a catalog of random bizarre objects and t-shirts. I noticed that all the novelty stuff making fun of an aging birthday began with age 40. There are no products making fun of people turning 30. So I guess 30 really is the new 20.

The other thing that makes me feel better is what a birthday card I read recently said; there are many people turning 40 who would do anything to be you.

Guys! I just bought, as a total impulse purchase, a La-Z-Boy Airspa (R) massage recliner with heat and 10 motors! It has self-inflating and -deflating lumbar pillows, different modes of massage; it reclines and rocks; it fits me vertically and horizontally; and the fabric is oh-so-soft cream chenille! I had been playing with the idea of getting a recliner for my living room (it needs more seating) and when Vanessa moves out and takes a dining room set with her as she promised to do, I’ll have a nice space for a recliner or a loveseat that faces the living room and bigscreen TV as well as the dining area and kitchen. I meant to just look in the La-Z-Boy store to get some ideas when Mr. W and I walked by it on our way back to the car after breakfast, but then, there that chair was. Softer than anything (except Dodo, and parts of my lower abdomen), it rocks (in the colloquial and literal definitions), and it massages! I’ve always loved overstuffed furniture I could curl up in. And here’s the kicker. It was 50% off because that cream chenille fabric is being discontinued (the other models in different fabrics are still original priced at $1600), and this weekend’s sale is THE STORE PAYS SALES TAX! Woohoo! Mr. W has a truck, so I don’t even pay delivery. I was nervous about my cat perhaps taking a liking to the chair, but the salesperson said just to turn it on when the cat’s around and once Dodo sees that it vibrates, makes noise, and rocks, he won’t come near it. That’s true. Dodo hates the vacuum for the same reason. YAY!!

Mr. W was napping laying on his right side over his bed with the bedroom windows (directly behind the head of his bed) open. After finishing my last blog entry, I gently laid down in front of him, curled into a ball so that I’d fit neatly into the S-curve in front of his body, my back to his front. He woke up anyway. A breeze lifted a few strands of my hair along with the gauzy antique gold curtains. “I love laying here with the breeze coming in,” he murmured.
“And the curtains flapping,” I added and he agreed. I continued, “Like the gentle fluttering of a mosquito’s wings as it flies away from –”
“– a fly swatter,” we said simultaneously.
“…and my OFF! spray,” he concluded.
I giggled at the analogy. “I wanna go write this down,” I said. Without opening his eyes, he lifted his left elbow up, away from my ribs, and I slid out from underneath his left arm to write this post.

The first thing Mr. W and I did this morning was run about 4 miles and then walk another mile to complete a 5-mile course. I just got back into running again this week, and this is my 3rd run. I’m optimistic about completing 12 miles (no stopping) before the half-marathon. I just gotta figure out when, between jujitsu, work and my weekends, I would have time to train. I suppose if I drag Mr. W with me, I can train with some company on the weekends for long runs.

This is the entry I would’ve posted yesterday had the site been up and running.

There is something about watching X-Men Friday night, then X-2 on Saturday afternoon, and then the newly released third X-Men movie in the theatre yesterday evening that just makes me feel so…ordinary. This imperfect affliction they call homo sapien. When I was a little girl, I fantasized about having special powers. Making water shoot out of my fingertips, communicating with animals, psychically locating lost objects. I think I most often wished I could turn into a spider and disappear around a table leg so that I could be there without people knowing I was there. I don’t know why I’d never wanted to be actually invisible. Also, something about watching Halle Berry in a tight bodysuit and Rebecca Romjin naked except for some blue body paint and scales inspires me to lose weight.

The continuity between the 3 movies was great, very entertaining.

I’m actually kind of excited for lunch today. Earlier this week, my gym trainee for the first time got on the treadmill. She can’t run distance yet, but her goal is to get into good enough cardiovascular shape where she can do 3 miles w/o stopping. When I first started training with her, she was too loose and heavy to run on the treadmill at all. But on Tuesday(?), after a minute-long brisk walk, she started with a 30-second jog, then brought it back down to a brisk walk, and then 45 seconds, then walk, and so on with me monitoring her heartrate and recovery time until she got up to a 2 min 15 sec jog in her final increment. We were on the treadmill for a total of 30 mins (I did a 3-mile run next to her while monitoring her and yelling encouragement and instruction) and her total distance was just over 2 miles. I’m so proud of her, and she was surprised at herself. I was actually surprised at myself, too, since I hadn’t run in probably over a month. I suppose I can’t keep procastinating on the training forever. There IS that expensive half-marathon in September I’m committed to.

So yeah, today at lunch we’re hitting the treadmill again.

Oh, yesterday at lunch I went to the other gym I belong to that I hadn’t been to in months. I was on the elliptical trainer and this guy walked up and stood in front of me, looking at the empty elliptical machines around me and at me. I refused to make eye contact, as usual. He stood there for what seemed like 3 minutes, while I thought at him, “Don’t stand so close to me! Leave! Go away!” Finally he spoke to me and asked me questions about the elliptical trainer, what muscles it works, whether the machine next to me is the same as the one I’m on, etc, and since he’s talking workout, I got friendly and talked to him and answered his questions. Soon, a district attorney in the building got on the elliptical trainer to my right and said very pointedly, “Hi, Cindy.” I said hello to him, noticed he did not put his usual headset on. The guy and I finished off our conversation about the machine, he thanked me and then took off. “What was THAT?” demanded the DA. I said he was asking about the machine. He shook his head. “Yeah right! I’ve seen him in here and he’s NEVER on these machines.” I said, “Oh. Well, maybe he’d like to start.” The DA said, “The way to START is to get ON one.” Good point. “I’ve never seen anything like that before,” he said. I said, “So I gave him a trainer’s pep talk for 3 minutes for nothing?” “Yeah!” It’s sad when someone needs to come over to cock-block cuz I don’t know when I’m being hit on. Later, when I was doing freeweights, I heard my name being called from behind. I turned and it was a guy that I’d met and gotten friendly with at that gym, whom I hadn’t seen in months. He’s back to the gym after 8, 9 months of being away, he said, and shook my hand and gave me a big encouraging smile. (This is the guy who complimented my personality before. Haha.) Then he was off. And then I saw 2 of my female coworkers working out together and chatting, and we said hello across the weight floor. They said they just joined a few weeks ago. So it turned out to be a strange social hour for me, despite the fact that I usually never socialize at the gym.

In an email conversation with Vanessa earlier about how I’d been perhaps erroneously defining “life” as beginning with the start of marriage and a family, she replies (posted with her express permission):

“I think you are right, starting a family is not the beginning of life, just a piece of the entire journey. I think we live in the times were our “life” role model growing up was for women to be schooled, have a career, have a husband, kids and the house with the white picket fence and then as we matured society’s views were changing, too. Especially, in California. It’s a liberating time of breaking the mold (i.e.. having kids out of wedlock is more common, adoption vs. your own blood, and the choice to not have kids, etc). Which can be a confusing, frustrating and sensitive time for many women? I always think where do I fit in the new mold. Especially, if you are making a decision, and your family wants something else. My Mom and sisters freaked out when I told them I was seriously considering adoption. My Mom said “that’s nice honey and you can have a few of your own.” I guess in the end you need to figure out what makes you happy and go for it. Do you ever notice when someone makes a decision that’s not in the old paradigm of thinking, sure the family’s feature get roughed up, but they eventually get over it and accept whatever decision you make.

One of the best advice I ever received was from [martial arts trainer] when [boyfriend] was being wishy-washy. He told me to stop thinking about the journey (i.e. when it will end, how, etc) and just enjoy the journey.”

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