cindy's world

Mr. W spontaneously got the day off today, so he came by my house after he left work, helped me pack, and then I fed, watered, brushed, de-earwaxed Dodo, and we came back to his house to get him packed. Here’s the good news:

I asked him if he’s bringing his laptop, and he said yes. There may not be an internet connection, but he said something about just going out and finding a kiosk or something for looking up things to do in the area or restaurants to eat at. He said if there’s internet available at the hotel for a price, we’d just pay for it so he could use his laptop.

That means I can still read your blogs! Yay! (What? You want me to write blog posts while I’m in Hawaii? I’m on vacation!)

He’s already purchased VIP seating tickets for a Cirque Hawaii show tomorrow night.

Here’s a reminder in case I can’t post this weekend: FALL BACK AN HOUR ON SUNDAY!! It’s not gonna do me that much good, tho, cuz we lose a couple of hours in the Hawaii time zone anyway. Hawaii also does not observe daylight savings time, so on Sunday, we’ll be 3 hours behind. Eh, it doesn’t matter. I’m on vacay; I can sleep till I wanna get up.

Worked out at the gym, washed the car(s), had some rare Ahi tuna tataki salad at Cheesecake Factory, went to jujitsu, ran a mile.

Sounds simple, huh? It wasn’t. Instead of doing a nice-and-easy, go-at-your-own-pace couple of miles like the four of us did last week, Josh and Gerardo came up with the brilliant idea of running a mile as fast as we could and seeing what our times are. Since I was the only one with a watch, I did the countdown and we started at exactly 9:45p. At an outdoors track in 58-degree weather (I know the temperature because my car said so), the brisk air cut into all of our lungs. Josh was spitting bloody phlegm afterwards, my lungs still hurt upon expansion right now such that it forces a little feminine bong-smoker sounding cough out of me when I inhale sharply, Jackie was wheezing, and Gerardo…well, he was just fine. In fact, he came in first at about 7 1/2 minutes; I came in second at 8:05; Josh was 2 seconds behind me; and Jackie did pretty well at exactly 9 1/2 minutes. While the rest of us were walking off our misery, cramps and phlegm balls, Gerardo went and did some pull-ups as if gravity didn’t apply to him. “Gravity actually helps him,” Jackie remarked bitterly. “It somehow propels him upwards.” Gerardo is apparently superman who needs to push himself down to keep his feet on earth. And then we found out when he was a teenager, he used to do some gymnast stuff. =P I knew I couldn’t compete with him in grappling, boxing, jujitsu, or running, but apparently I can’t out-double-back-flip him off parallel bars, either. If he weren’t so nice, funny and supportive, I’d hate him. Or if he were female, I’d hate him.

I’m just kidding. Cuz he’d make too ugly of a female to incite hatred in me.

I’m just kidding. He has beautiful features. In fact, I’m gonna get him drunk in Hawaii, put makeup on him and take some photos.

I’m just kidding. Well, maybe.

I actually had a productive day already! I still didn’t pack, but I figure I’ll save that for Friday.

This morning, I got to sleep in like I always wished I could on work days (hitting the snooze button for an hour straight), then I got up, showered, spot-cleaned my carpet (Oxy-Clean is freaking amazing!), vacuumed both floors, did the dishes, cleaned the cat area, changed Dodo’s litter box, fed him, swept my garage floor, sucked up spider webs from my vertical blinds and walls (I KNOW, I need to clean more, shut up), and then, at 11:20p, I went to Vons and got the perfect Pooh balloon to tie to the tiny baby Pooh for my coworker’s baby shower. Then I got to the courthouse at 11:40, just in time to hand over my house keys to my coworker, whom I ran into in the parking structure, who’s going to check in on Dodo while I’m gone next week. Whew! And it’s only 2:38!

Oh yeah, the baby shower was cute. It’s like some huge infant puked baby blue fluffy stuff all over the Judge’s Lounge. (Say that three times fast!)

Now I’m at James’s house, where I hope to manipulate him into helping me wash my car or working out with me or getting drunk at a bar or SOMETHING, until 6:30 when I’m off to jujitsu. After jujitsu ends (about 9p), a bunch of us are going running on a nearby college track.

I’m feeling pretty good about my productivity this week. All I have left to do for tomorrow is pack. Which will probably be a huge disaster and I’ll forget something really important, like my ID or money or dive knife.

I reached a new low today.

Yesterday, a plastic bag containing a shirt, 2 pairs of microfiber chenille gloves and all my bills disappeared from my hands between the house and my car door. This is nothing new; I apparently cross some sort of time/space vortex and gym bags, socks, towels, water, stuff I want to bring to work, have all disappeared before between my leaving the house and getting into the car in the garage. I didn’t realize my bag of stuff was missing last nite until I was almost at my destination, so I traced my steps in my head. Let’s see, I had the bag when I walked out the house, and then I backed up and cleaned the cat litter, put that in a bag, and then I saw another bag of trash in the garage I’d meant to throw away. I also packed up a bag of trash from the track bucket next to my washing machine to throw that away, and I threw 3 bags into the dumpster down the driveway. *gasp* Did I throw the bag of bills and clothes away? Nah, I can’t be that absent-minded, it’s probably sitting on the dryer or next to the kitchen sink, like so many of my disappearing objects when I get back home.

Upon my arrival back home, I ran around checking all the usual spots. Atop the dryer, nope. Atop the kitchen counter, nope. On the dining room table, nope. Upstairs in my bedroom on the floor? Nope. A string of cuss words followed me in my head as I marched out the house again and toward the dumpster. Luckily, the trash hadn’t been collected yet. I actually don’t know which day of the week the garbage truck comes. I lifted the lid of the dumpster and tip-toed, peering inside. I had to hold my breath. There, right beneath some other people’s stinky black garbage bag, was the white bag I recognized, with the name of the clothing store I shopped at yesterday printed in big red letters. If I were tall, I could reach in and only touch that bag. But because I’m short, I had to hang my armpit over years’ worth of crusty gooey ant-gnawed grime on the perimeter of the dumpster and stretch way down to lift off a couple of bags before I could grab my bag. Sure enough, shirt, 2 pairs of really nice microfiber gloves, all my bills. There’s orange-brown goo on the outside of the bag, but thankfully I’d tied the bag closed. And yet, the sour acrid molecules of discards had crawled into the bag and settled into every item inside. The shirt and gloves are sitting out in the garage to air out; the bills are paid and thrown away. Blech!

Today:
fold and put away load of laundry from yesterday – check!
do remaining 2 loads of laundry – in progress, check!
pay bills – check!
dig inside neighborhood dumpster in broad daylight for goodies to take back inside the house – check!
mail out bills – to do
pack – to do
vacuum – to do
clean cat area – to do
60 mins of cardio – to do
belly dancing – to do
gym for weight-lifting – to do

Man, vacation is a lot of work. I may not even have time to clean out my closets.

Take 2 crazy girls, give them the day off, hand ’em each a laptop, stir, and you get this on IM:

Cindy: “Wow,” dodo says.
Jordan: hi Dodo… (scatch)
Cindy: “Dodo, Auntie Jordan says hi and she sends you a scratch! Yes she does, yes she does! Scritchy scratchy, you’re just a happy cat, aren’t you? Scratchy cat! Scratch cat!”
Jordan: *achoo*.. yep.. you’re my favorite Californian cat. *achoo*. Ok go play now. hehe
Cindy: you’re allergic to cats?!
Cindy: *looking at you differently*
Jordan: dude I said I need a hypoallergenic cat
Jordan: not ALL cats… just .. most of them
Cindy: any shaved cat is a hypoallergenic cat.
Jordan: well then.. shave dodo
Cindy: but then his cone would fall off.
Jordan: not if you duct tape it
Cindy: oh.
Jordan: kisses to dodo though.. mommy made me say it
Cindy: he’s ignoring you.

Well heck, at least it’s a productive day! I was up at 8:30, went to Kragen Auto Parts in search of more car care crap (I need to wash my car again cuz after I washed and Zainoed it on Saturday, the Spa place turned its sprinklers on my car on Sunday). I didn’t end up buying anything tho, cuz it looked like I’d have to spend like $50 on bucket/washmit/wipe cloth, plus another $50 on a hose. So instead I spent $45 on cat stuff at Petco and $65 on clothes I don’t need. But the good thing is, I have a whole new wardrobe for Hawaii. And right now laundry is going downstairs. I’m gonna vacuum the house today and go work out in the time it takes me to do 2 loads of laundry, hopefully.

This reminds me of the beginning of Jordan and my IMs today:
Jordan: I went to THREE doctor visits today… so I should blog about that
Jordan: since I’m lacking things to blog about
Cindy: I know, one indication that people are doing well is when their blogs get boring.
Jordan: either that or they’re leaving the good stuff out

Jordan’s most recent blog post is about a dream she had this past weekend; she dreamt she was on a plane flying with a male companion to Mexico on vacation. When she turned to look at her companion, turned out it’s her ex-husband. In the ensuing dream conversation, the ex looked at her as if she’s crazy when she asked how he knew about her trip. The ex said they’d booked the vacation together, that they live in New York together still, is she okay? Basically, the past 5 years of single life as Jordan knew it never happened. It was like a peep into “what if.”

Jordan’s post got my brains rolling in a familiar what-if scenario. Did you ever think that maybe THIS life is the illusion, and the reality is that you’re semi-conscious in some nursing home somewhere, in a pseudo-vegetative state, and every time you do something really cool in this reality, your alternate reality comatose self smiles and gives the nurses and family members hope that you may be getting better? Maybe you’re out in a wheelchair in some garden as the caretakers push you out to get some sun. When you’re inexplicably warm in this reality, it’s really cuz your physical wheelchair-bound body is in the sun too long. Maybe in this reality, you’re a 21 year old girl laughing whole-heartedly at some person you’re interested in at the bar, and in your comatose reality, your adult son just happened to kneel before you at the same time and talk to you, and you smile. Now your son is overjoyed, “I think she heard me! Mom! I saw you smile! Smile again!” You’ve seen people in asylums or nursing homes whose thoughts and attentions are obviously not with you. Where are they mentally?

Creepy, huh?

Been thinking about that since I was a kid. The problem with reality is that it’s so subjective.

I found 2 bruises on the elbow side of both my forearms last nite. I showed the 4 marks to Mr. W. At first he suggested they were bruises from my massage, and I said they can’t be, these are brown which means they’re at least a few days old. He said, “It looks like the marks you’d get from blocking techniques.” They are in the right positions for hard-blocks on kicks and maybe some hold breaks, but Thursday’s jujitsu class was a special clinic on boxing with a long-time pro boxer, and we did no blocks with our arms. Wednesday was belly dancing. I worked out all week long, but I couldn’t have banged the underside of my forearms weightlifting. “Maybe I have leukemia,” I murmured.

This morning, I realized what they are. They’re war wounds from my scaling the wall on Thursday night! Hwah!

Childhood friend Sandy got her first professional massage today. The OC Spa & Wellness Center located in Huntington Beach, CA isn’t swanky with whirlpools, saunas, steam rooms, complimentary fruit and shampoos the way Burke Williams and Glen Ivy are, but it also costs less. It’s a service-only day spa that also doubles as a boutique selling new age things like organic vitamins and soy candles.

My pet peeve with massage places is that you’re practically paying $3 a minute, so they should give you your money’s worth, but some places (this happened to me in Cancun and this in Glen Ivy Hot Springs’ Corona location) will start late and end on time. I’m okay with that if the customer’s late. But when the massage therapist is 20-30 minutes late, or screws up the service, your time should be given back to you in the end. Today, my therapist was running late for my 5:30. Someone had come out to tell me, at about 5:30p, that my therapist will be out in about 5-10 minutes. She came out about 5:40p, and apologized for being late. When I got undressed and laid on the table and was ready to go, that was 5:44. In my head I was doing the math on what kind of a tip I’d give her if she still ends on time at 7p. She didn’t; she ended at 7:15. So I tipped her 20%.

Sandy did not have a light massage like my 90 minute Swedish which focuses on circulation and relaxation. She had a 90 minute deep tissue combination. She always said she wanted a firm massage because she knew she had knots from all her recent stress and lack of sleep, and the girl who gave her the massage went all out. Her therapist said that she normally has burly tough men as her clients, and she’d only put about 25% of the strength into what she was giving Sandy before the men would wimp out. Sandy said she was sore from the massage, but knew she needed it. Her therapist told her that she should get more massages, if not from her, then from anywhere, because she was so unbelievable tense with knots on top of knots. So I may have gotten her to be a regular.

Oh, and I thought I lost my watch there, because the last time I had it, I was taking it off to put in my purse as I undressed in the room. Sandy and I were sitting at California Pizza Kitchen before I realized my watch was not in my purse anywhere. I called OC Wellness and the receptionist looked around the front desk, in the room I was in, and in the restroom and couldn’t find it. She asked if it was possible it may have fallen out in my car. I said maybe, and she asked me to call her back after I check the car so that they don’t tear the crevices of the place apart looking for me. I agreed, and thankfully, it’d dumped out of my purse in the backseat, so I called back and let them know. The service there is sooo nice.

P.S. I Zainoed the car again this weekend. Wash, swirl-remover polish, deep shine polish. Both cars. Uh-huh.
P.P.S. Mr. W and I visited my parents today and my mom had made a black chicken stew with Chinese herb medicine. Mr. W’s sick, and he chowed down 2 bowls of soup. He also had a tablespoon of that Chinese herbal cough syrup made of honey and loquat, Pi Pah Kao. My mom said that he was turning Chinese. I said he started off more Chinese than me. (See here for just one example.) We’d also brought over some Vietnamese sandwiches, and my dad fed the bread crumbs to his ten or so gray fish in his huge fishtank. He does have actual fish food he bought last week; he told us how the fish store salesperson, being helpful, asked what kind of fish he had to make sure the food is right. My dad answered that he believes his fish would eat anything, because Dad was too embarrassed to admit that presently, his fish tank is filled with talapia he caught himself last month. My dad’s silly; last month when I visited, he asked if I wanted to see the fish he caught the day before. I said okay, expecting him to lead me to the freezer or maybe a cooler outside, but he led me to his giant fishtank where a ton of wild gray fish were confusing his one remaining bright orange parrot fish.

Driving to work this morning, I was coasting to a stop and passed a car on my right that I happened to glance into. The woman driving was putting on mascara in her visor mirror. And her SUV wasn’t even stopped yet. I rolled my eyes, and mid-eyeroll, when my eyeballs were positioned at the top of my head, I happened to catch reflected in my rear view mirror that the woman in the truck behind me was madly scrawling on her eyeliner, and HER truck wasn’t stopped yet. At least wait till you’re at a full stop, ladies! Or do it at home! I wonder if any of these people have ever poked an eye out.

…pronounced “hh-ugh-ah!” You know, that grunting sound you make in triumph after accomplishing some testosteroney task, especially one that involves physical agility. I don’t know how to spell that sound. “Hugh!” looks like Hugh Grant or Hugh Hefner. “Huh!” looks like, “Huh? Wha-?”

Anyway, after jujitsu tonight, four of us went to a nearby college track to go running. They only wanted to do 2 miles, which was great, because the short run almost killed me. I had to check between my ankles to make sure my uterus hadn’t fallen out. I cramped up so badly, I’m hoping that I’m gonna get my period early this month. Presently it appears to be “scheduled” to arrive mid-way through my Hawaii trip. Why does that always happen? No matter when we plan a vacation, we’re gonna be on our period during it.

And then after the run, the most physically fit of us, a green belt named Gerardo, waved us over to “the wall.” He ran lightly up to the cement brick wall, ran halfway up it, and pulled himself over, landing neatly on his feet on the other side. And then it dawned on me. “Is this a six-foot wall?” I guess Josh, who is in the running for the Orange County Sheriff’s Department, needs to be able to scale a 6-foot wall to pass the physical exam. Coincidentally, it was about a month ago that I mentioned to Mr. W, “Do you think I could climb over a 6-foot wall?” I don’t remember what he answered, but I don’t remember being mad at him either, so he probably responded affirmatively. Gerardo explained the mechanics, and Josh did it on his first try. Jackie was able to leap up and hang onto the top of the wall with her hands, but couldn’t bring herself up and over. On my first run, I realized as I approached the wall that I could not see it in the darkness. I had no idea how close I was to the wall, and I perhaps jumped wrong, smacking my wrists onto the upper edge of the wall. I wasn’t getting anywhere that way. I tried again, and realized I’d jumped too early when my feet didn’t make contact with the wall on my attempt to run up its side. Jackie was totally motivated, and managed at one point to jump straight up from a standstill, then get up enough to swing her right ankle up to the side and over, and pull herself up with her foot. “Women’s lower bodies are stronger than their upper bodies, so as long as you can get a leg up, you can pull yourself up,” Josh tipped. I finally walked up to the wall, took a vertical jump to get an elbow past the top, and pulled myself up with my upper body strength. Once high enough, I put a knee up and was over. I did it twice! “I’m so surprised, you made it look so easy!” Josh said, giving me a big hug. He said at the sheriff’s obstacle course over the weekend, when it was open to practice, the women who were trying to scale the wall spent an hour being counseled and directed by the sheriff trainers, and one of them even looked like a fitness instructor, they were ALL taller than me (I’m pretty dang short at 5’2″), and none of them managed to do it.

HWAH!