cindy's world

I know I said I wasn’t gonna keep doing this, but I can’t help it. Sue me! No, don’t, I spend enough time in court as it is.

I got this photo text message yesterday from Nikki, who is apparently keeping me informed as to the ins and outs of herself and her little sister, Erin:

The photo came with the following message: “Erin got a bruse in school” (don’t you love kid-spellings?)

After some more communication with Nikki, I learned that Erin had gotten the scrape when she tripped in school. Looking at the adorable pout in the photo, as much as I feel pain for the little one’s boo-boo, I smiled imagining Nikki saying, “Stick your arm up, Erin, I’m gonna take a picture of this and send it to Aunt Cindy,” and Erin abiding piteously.

(as usual, rest mouse pointers over photos for captions)
Downtown Disney in Orlando kicks our Downtown Disney Anaheim’s ass.

For one, our Lego Store doesn’t have a life-size Loch Ness Monster/dragon made of Legos in the water. But theirs DOES.

At Jordan’s house. What’s THIS about? Stay tuned and see.

Look how close I got to Japan!

The only junk food I ate on vacation. Seriously.

You know how sometimes you look at a photo taken of you and you think, “Oh gaaaawd, I should’ve known better than to not wear makeup at the beach!” ?

Ziplining 1.5 miles was fun, but it would’ve been more fun if it were higher, faster, and longer.

This blog has taken an uncharacteristic child-friendly turn lately. Okay, this is the last one for a bit, and I’ll post photos about vacation next. It just seems that every time I’m at home where the vacation photos are, I’m doing something else. Take this past long weekend, for example.

Saturday was my niece Nikki’s birthday party. (She officially turns 9 today.)

The day started off disastrously when 2 hours before checking in to their $850/night pre-paid Princess Suite at Disneyland Hotel for their daughter Nikki’s birthday celebration, my cousin Olivia and her husband Eric found that the hotel had booked them for AUGUST, not Saturday. The girls’ father was on the phone with Disney Resorts much of the morning asking if there’s anything they could do, but the hotel said it was the parents’ fault for not checking that the room was booked for the correct month (despite the reservation having been made on the phone so clearly the Disney clerk made the error; why would the father tell her August instead of May?), that the hotel was booked solid, and there was no banquet room or other venue they could give out for the party in lieu of the Princess Suite. The father and I spent another frantic hour or two calling hotels local to Disneyland that had suites available at this short notice. Most places had no vacancy due to the long weekend. Olivia had started receiving calls from parents of guests who’d arrived at Downtown Disney wondering where the party was. Finally, a two-master-bedroom condo suite with full living room (w/fireplace!), kitchen and breakfast nook was booked across the street from Disneyland. That worked out more perfectly than Disneyland Hotel, I thought. The suite was bigger, wasn’t as overcrowded as Disney, and the suites were arranged in separated bungalows with ample parking. Soon I was in a sea of kidlets.

The kids burned out their sugar highs by swimming in the resort pool, then came back and split into groups. One did cookie-decorating in the living room (before a TV playing Hannah Montana or some other such show), another living room group beaded bracelets with the assistance of another parent, a younger group sat in one master bedroom watching Spongebob Squarepants, some fathers gathered in the second master bedroom watching the Lakers game, and I ran BeautySalon in the breakfast nook at the table with Olivia. Girls came by the Salon one at a time; Olivia polished their little nails as I took facepainting requests. The girls weren’t very daring; I painted probably 12-15 flowers (I tried to vary them by putting different gemstone stickers in the centers of flowers, and asking them to pick different colors for their petals), one butterfly, one heart, and one star.

After the party, Nikki said to me that the locket (which she wore immediately upon opening) was her favorite present. I choose to believe that it’s true. 🙂

I helped my cousins do cleanup duty, then as the family left for dinner, I drove off to Party #2: Mr. W’s best friend’s wife’s 40th birthday luau. I even changed to fit the luau theme complete with a plumeria pinning up my hair and a hemp ankle bracelet I’d gotten in Oahu. The two parties were obviously contrasting in every way. These are adult wine-loving people and I think I may have been the youngest adult there, with exception to the host’s children. I was also the only Asian there that I could recall, whereas at the kid party, I was the most Americanized Asian there with exception to the parent helping the kids bead bracelets.

Mr. W’s daughter performed a few songs on her new Fender electric acoustic guitar, which Mr. W bought for her Saturday as an early graduation present. They’d been out guitar shopping while I was on the phone kissing hotel ass trying to move the party venue. Despite my getting to Party #2 three hours late, it didn’t look like I’d missed much. Mr. W was there on time without me and said they mostly watched the Lakers game, drank alcohol, and ate. It was a very nice catered affair, however. I came in shortly before the birthday song, cake, and Daughter’s performance. I grabbed a few bites of food and an hour and a half later, we left.

Sunday, I invited my parents plus cousin Olivia and family over for barbecue and Lake fun. As the parents sat shivering under the shade of a tree in the grass (it was warmer in the sun, but they’re so paranoid of tanning), I played with Nikki and Erin in the water. They dug a hole in the sand, collected grass and other random things to throw in it, added lakewater, and Erin stirred the mess with a stick, claiming to be making vegetable soup. They later decided to test out the water. Nikki pranced in ahead of her younger sister, confident from her swimming lessons. Erin reached up to me with a tiny open hand. “Can you hold my hand? I’m scared I’m going to drown if I go in too far and the sand suddenly goes down.” Here’s a 6-year-old who knows what makes her uncomfortable, why she’s uncomfortable, what to do to cure it, and how to express it perfectly to an adult. That’s pretty cool. I held her hand and we went only as far as she was comfortable, which was mid-thigh. She learned a new word: thigh. I enjoyed that quality time with my nieces, just me and the two of them.

After we got the girls out of the water, we rented three kayaks. Daughter one-manned her own, I put Erin in the front of my two-man kayak, and Mr. W put Nikki in the front of his two-man. We paddled half a mile down the lake to another more private beach, where the girls melted sand clumps in the water, pointed out fish, made more sand-seaweed soup, and told stories about fish-bricks. An hour later, we paddled back. Erin asked questions from the front of the kayak the entire way out and the entire way back. Again, I answered everything I could (which thankfully was everything). Some questions were easy: “Is this the ocean? What’s that green stuff on the bottom? Is that one house? Do you want to live in a big house like that? How come they’re so much faster than us?” Some were less easy: “Where does the water come from? What makes you wet? How do you dry up?What’s ‘evaporate’? How come the lake doesn’t evaporate?”

Soon everyone returned to our house for dinner. Mr. W barbecued carne asada, salmon burgers and vegetable skewers, we put out five-grain chips and guacamole and salsa, set the table with drinks and fruit as Daughter entertained on her new guitar. After food was the surprise dessert: the girls were gonna make their first chocolate-dipped strawberries and cherries!

Daughter got a kick out of their interactions as she helped them. Nikki would take charge sometimes, saying to Erin, “Don’t hold it like that! Look, you’re getting your hand in the chocolate!” Erin would reply good naturedly, licking her arm, “Okay, boss.”

Nikki called dibs on the prettiest and largest strawberries.

But of course it was the little one who figured out first that she has TWO hands…

Monday was all about Daughter coming over and Mr. W buying her more recording equipment including a very nifty professional microphone stand and pop guard, plus professional cables. She recorded three more songs yesterday; we’re getting close to registering another album for copyrighting.

I’ve been in daily contact with my cousin Olivia by phone and my 8-year-old niece Nikki by text message the last week. From Nikki yesterday, a picture message from her cell to mine:

“I really want to thank you :-)”
A few seconds later she sent: “And when i said i i ment erin and me”

I texted back: “you’re so very welcome! i love that picture, thanks!”

From Nikki: “Your very welcome :-)”

That kid has made it a mission to make me cry. In a good way. Today is her birthday party. I’d asked her what she wanted for her birthday, and after a long “Ummmm,” she said she doesn’t really need anything. I said I know that her parents are good with providing more than she needs, but is there anything she’s seen lately, maybe on TV or in a store, that she wants? A few seconds more of thinking, and her response was still negative. Then she said, “You’re already giving me a birthday present. You’re coming to my party and you’re going to facepaint for me and my friends!” (My cousin Olivia has already told me that the girls have been in school showing all their friends photos of their arm painting from the other day, and the friends’ parents have approached Olivia over the week to say how excited their girls were to meet me and get painted. Talk about pressure!) “You’re too practical,” I groaned, and she laughed.

Call me materialistic, but I want both girls to have a physical thing they can touch and say, “This is from my Aunt Cindy.” So yesterday after work, I bought Erin (can’t leave the little one out) a WebKinz panda and a mini panda sticker book. I bought Nikki a WebKinz white seal and a silver-edged see-through glass locket on a silver snake chain. In the locket I selected five charms for her: a blinged-out “N” (self-explanatory), a round “Happy Birthday” glittery one, two red overlapping hearts, a little girl with a green crystal on her middle (representing Nikki and May’s emerald birthstone), and a white-robed smiling guardian angel. Seeing the kind of girl Nikki is, I think the sentimental value of the piece would be high, and maybe bring her comfort if she wears it in the tough times ahead.

(shot over woodgrain to show transparency of heart)

I’m off to get ready for my first public day as Aunt Cindy at Disneyland Hotel. Cookie decorating, crafts, and colors (on cheeks), oh my!

Last week, I had the brilliant overly confident idea to hop on a mountain bike and ride 5 miles to a Borders Bookstore, purchase a specific fitness and nutrition book by Ironman triathlete Brendan Brazier I’d been wanting, and ride back. 10 miles, no biggie.

It was blistering hot riding uphill to the bookstore in direct sunlight. I looked forward to what would mostly be downhills riding back home. Unfortunately, the book was not in stock at that particular store. And riding back, it was already dark, so the primarily downhill rides added a wind chill factor making my arms and legs numb with cold. Also, my crotch and butt felt bruised for days.

The bumpy trip was not a total loss, however. I did unexpectedly stumble upon a treasure I never knew existed:

Barney Stinson (played by Neil Patrick Harris) of the CBS sit-com “How I Met Your Mother” is constantly spewing out pearls of wisdom in dealing with women, social rules governing the chasing of tail, tricks to getting laid. But underneath it all, the other friends catch an occasional glimpse of a vulnerable boy with a hurt past, a real person something opposite of the mysteriously frivolous persona Barney usually wears in public. I love him, and not just because when he’s offended, he yells, “This is SO going into my BLOG!”

Well, according to his book The Bro Code, Barney’s blog is www.barneysblog.com. Today I decided to type that in, just to see. And oh…my…gawd, it EXISTS. I haven’t started reading yet, I’m delaying and savoring the anticipation while I blog about this discovery and add Barney’s Blog as a link in my sidebar, but I’m right about to dive in and start ignoring my 2-case simultaneous civil jury trial.

I have two weeks of vacation to blog about and post photos from. There’re also a few things since then that I’d considered blogging about. However, the wave of real life crashed over me and took me under for a moment. I’m not fully in control, yet, but I need to start treading to keep my BLOG from being abandoned by my readers. =)

This week has been largely about my cousin Olivia’s two young daughters, Nikki (8) and Erin (6). Having faced tremendous adversity this weekend, the two girls march bravely forward with their lives, preparing for the long painful battle only just beginning for them. I haven’t been very close to them before now, but having come running this weekend when our family unified to support the girls, I can’t see myself being distant from them again. Nikki carries the weight of the world on her shoulders; she is the protector of her mother and younger sister, mediary between father and family, and she raises her family members as much as they raise her. I forget sometimes that she’s just a kid when I’m talking with her, but when I remember, I wish I could give her a childhood back. Erin is vivacious, clever, and full of questions. So far I’ve answered all of them, hoping she never loses her curiosity or her desire for learning.

I think both are doing very well, considering…

Nikki has a birthday next week, and a pre-planned birthday party on Saturday. Their mother, my cousin Olivia, asked for help. Only an exigent circumstance could force me to turn that down, so the girls jumped up and down and cheered as I started making plans with their mother. Twenty little girls will be gathered in a princess suite at Disneyland Hotel on Saturday afternoon, so we’re doing cookie decorating, bracelet making, and a beauty salon theme. I thought I’d put my high school Key Club volunteer experience working the facepainting booth at a local fair to use; Olivia will do hair; another person will do manicures. The girls will rotate station to station until they’re prettied up to explore Downtown Disney, an afternoon on the town. Olivia bought a cream facepainting kit yesterday, which I was unfamiliar with having used only the watercolor palette type with a paintbrush (I painted SO MANY Ninja Turtles that year on little boy cheeks), so I went over after work yesterday to experiment.

This was my first one, a flower and bee on Erin’s teeny hand.

I thought it looked a little awkward, and I wasn’t used to the paint consistency. I used Q-tips to apply colors, and the cotton tips fell apart on me. Both girls were thankfully easily impressed.
My second attempt, Erin asked for a Panda. It’s her favorite animal, so much so that she’d once requested her mother change her (Erin’s) legal Chinese name to Panda Bear.

Ain’t she adorable?

“Thank you for sitting so still,” I told her.
“You’re welcome!” returned the little sprite.

Nikki is a baby seal fiend. I tried my best, but again, wasn’t happy with the result. I just couldn’t get the precision I wanted applying sticky globs of paint with a big Q-tip on a small hand. Nikki was more than forgiving; she gasped, crooned about how cuuuute the seal is, jumped up and down, declared aloud, “I am the LUCKIEST girl in the WHOLE WORLD!” I added a ribbon of blue for water, and applied glitter over the water.

Nikki asked for a flower on her other hand, and now that I was more comfortable with the paints, I got a little more daring, using up her entire forearm for a design.

“I wish this were a tattoo so this never comes off,” Nikki declared.
“No no no,” I laughed, “You do NOT want a tattoo.”
“I want THIS one,” she insisted, looking at the white seal. =P

The girls’ father is on a business trip in China, so I emailed these photos to his work account through my cameraphone. Ah, technology.

While I was in the kitchen getting ready to leave, I overheard Nikki ask her mom, “Can I not take a shower tonight? I wanna show my friends this in school tomorrow.”
Her mother offered mockingly, “Want me to tie plastic bags over your arms?”
“I don’t wanna shower, either,” the little one piped in.
“I never want to shower again,” the older one said hopefully.
I looked at my cousin apologetically. “Your kids are gonna stop showering, and it’s all my fault.”

After helping Nikki take photos of her arms on her own cameraphone so that she could send picture messages to her friends with cell phones, the three of them walked me out to my car and I drove the hour home with a smile on my face. Some minutes after I got home, I received a recorded voice message from Nikki on my cell phone (which I don’t even know how to do). It looks like a text message, except when I open it, Nikki’s clear voice says, “I’m sorry Aunt Cindy, I’m just making sure you got home safe.” I texted her back that I did, thanked her for checking up on me. Looks like she’s picked up another person to be guardian angel for.

They’re tears, cheers, joys, and fillets
Dancing on toes, smiling with dimples
That’s how it is, girls will be girls
(best recollection of a poem printed on the cover of my childhood diary)

I’m still in Florida, sitting in Jordan’s kitchen bar. It’s 2am here. The only one awake other than myself is James, playing some hand-held electronic game behind me in the family room. My intent was to check in online for my flights tomorrow from Florida to the Dominican Republic, but the airline won’t allow it; because of the international travel they want me to check in in person and show my passport. *shrug*

Meanwhile, here’s a tiny little sliver of what I’ve been up to. As usual, rest mouse pointer over photos for captions.
Wednesday:
Me and Jordan in a respectable photo at CityWalk:

I think this is at Islands of Adventure in some toon island:

Sometimes if you don’t make the leap you don’t get what you want, right?
By the way, we found a hat store. So you know there are some…interesting…photos to come. Here’s one of the mellower ones:

That night we crashed a local very nice resort, which we got to by boat.

We discovered silhouette shots that night.

All the above photos are courtesy Jordan. You know it’s from her camera cuz she doesn’t know how to take off the date stamp. Haha. Here are a couple of photos from Thursday, when we went to Clearwater Beach.
I had to get in there like this…

…and sometimes deeper in like this…

to get shots like these:

Oh, and I also had a mini blogger meet, and I’m not referring to Jordan and James. I got to meet and hang out with a blogger friend that I’d been corresponding with for…hmm…years, actually. I’ll leave it at that for now until I have more time to get into it.

Yesterday afternoon, work had an Employee Recognition Service Awards Ceremony, which they held in my courtroom since it’s the largest courtroom in the building. (That’s why the pilot episode of “Shark” and a courtroom scene of Ray Romano’s movie “Eulogy” was filmed in here.) Luckily, my back hallway walls were repainted in time for this. Earlier in the week the wallpapers were ripped off, revealing this underneath:

That’s directly behind my courtroom’s back door which exits into the employee hallway and elevator. Here is a closeup.

That’s right, that’s what every employee, judge and commissioner read for a week when they keyed and waited for the employee elevator on our floor. Our own little piece of history. Since the building’s built in the 60s, could it be written by someone dating back to that decade? And it’s a secure back hallway; what employee was so bursting with this statement that he had to memorialize it in writing? The world may never know. (Personally, I think the handwriting looks like that of my first bailiff. Ha.)

On to the afternoon ceremony. My courtroom was decked out.

Above, you see the bar of my desk on the left, the long counsel table on the right.
Below is a shot over the bar of my desk toward the audience. People are starting to gather.

A shot from the audience. This is the supervising judge of our district, also known as my Family Law Resource Judge. He’s wonderful.

I had been dreading this day, because I was among the employees being honored for “benchmark” employment spans, i.e. 10, 20, 25, 30 and 35 years. To my own surprise when I received the memo, I’m at the 10-year point. To me, that meant I was here 7 years too long. Complacent much? The memo had with it a 4-question form that we were supposed to fill out so that something could be said about us. Things like, “What is your most embarrassing or memorable experience while working for the County?” Well, let’s see. The time when I was in an empty back hallway adjusting my pantyhose in a way that showed way too much leg and way unfeminine actions, and THEN looked to my left and up, and saw that unbeknownst to me, SECURITY CAMERAS had recently been installed shooting down the hallway? There was another time when I was walking toward the building from the parking structure and my gartered thigh-high on my right leg just folded over and fell down. I fidgeted with it unsuccessfully, trying to be discreet, then ran back into the parking structure for privacy in repairing this the way I had to. A bailiff later told me security cameras were aimed at me and they had even focused in. I no longer wear hosiery. “What are your future goals with the Courts or with your personal life?” Um. Addressing that honestly would be, to quote Chandler Bing, “Can open…worms everywhere…” “Where/what various positions have you worked while with the County?” Well, THIS one. That’s it. For the last 10 years. With this staff, and this judge. I didn’t promote from within, I came “off the streets” from college straight into the position. I can’t even remember the last question, but it doesn’t matter cuz I left the entire form blank. The administrative secretary told me if I left it blank, the supervisors would just make up stuff about me. That was fine, I told her. I had too much going on in my head to write anything inspiring, anyway. (You can tell this from the lack of inspirational posts on this very blog.) My supervisor came in last week with the blank form. “Write SOMETHING, will ya? At LEAST in your personal and professional goals and where you’ve worked, you can do THAT. I can make up stuff for the other two, but you gotta give me SOMETHING.” Fine.
Professional goal: To stay employed in this current economy.
Personal goal: To never look my age. I gave it a second thought, knowing my supervisor, and added for his benefit: (Meaning YOUNGER than my age, Brian, not OLDER.)
Court work experience: Departments H (criminal calendar), C (civil law & motion), E (trials/long cause).

When I was called up by my supervisor for the award, he roasted me. I instantly regretted not filling out the form and letting him instead make up some bogus story about surprising me one morning when I strolled in to work an hour 20 minutes late, coming upon him after he’d finished the crossword puzzle while sitting at my desk waiting for me. “The look on her face was priceless. It was great for me, but it was quite an embarrassing moment for Cindy.” I should’ve given THIS experience as my worst court experience instead…

Earliest bad experience. I was still in training class, which was downtown so given the distance and horrific SoCal morning traffic, I had to get up very early to allow for a 2-hour commute. One morning I woke up late, and this happened to be a horrid bad hair day. I’m not used to bad hair days; my hair’s usually no-maintenance, wash-and-go, or even get-out-of-bed-and-go. I don’t even bother brushing it. The photo a few posts ago of me in the purple camisole top? Hair still damp out of the shower, did NOTHING with it. I have no idea why my hair revolted that morning, but knowing I’ve always looked normal before, what’s one day? Big freakin’ deal. So I pulled half of it back in a clip and left. It still looked crappy, but I told myself nobody notices this stuff but me. I got into class just a couple of minutes late, just as they announced that today was picture day! What picture? For our ID badges! Of course. I was right, this was the absolute worst picture I’d taken, so I just didn’t wear my badge much. And then September 11, 2001 happened. Memos went out in our public building, ORDERING us to ALWAYS have our employee badges worn in plain sight on our person. Wonderful. To this day this late bad-hair-day morning haunts me, and I have to wear it like a red badge of shame.
I’ve received comments on the picture through the last 10 years, too. Vicky once saw this badge in my car. “I don’t like this picture,” she announced. “You look much better than this in person.”
A coworker Andy said another time, “This picture makes you look like a foreign exchange student from China majoring in Math at CalTech.” That is NOT a compliment.

It wasn’t all roast yesterday, though. My boss did give me an unexpected gem of information. “You’ve been her coworker for 10 years, but there are things about her you may not know. She’s a published poet.” He went on to say that he’d attempted to obtain a copy of the poetry anthology in which something I’d written years ago had been published, but was unsuccessful, so he ended up photocopying the pages, had his gifted wife copy the poem in calligraphy, then had it framed and mounted in his home office. I had no idea, and until that point I’d forgotten I’d ever shown him the book. He used some very flattering adjectives in describing the piece. Totally made my week.

Catching up on the cameraphone photos…

On April Fool’s Day, James…

…visited me at the new-ish home for the first time and we had omakase at the lakeside sushi restaurant.

He said it was some of the best sushi he’s had. We unfortunately didn’t think to take photos until we were almost done.

He said it was up there with or exceeding the renouned Sushi Wasabi and it was half the price! You can read about our Sushi Wasabi experience, which I visited with James and Vanessa, here. (I just read the comment string on that post, hilarious, knowing now what has happened subsequently, and what is about to happen when JAMES AND I visit JORDAN in Florida next week.)

Continuing my sushi cravings, Mr. W and I had dinner at another Japanese restaurant days later. He made me pick dessert while refusing to give me input, so I deliberately picked something totally uncharacteristic of me: fried stuff. This is green tea ice cream made tempura-style (covered in tempura batter and deep fried).

He was kinda grossed out by the frying, so he didn’t eat much of it. I have the Asian can’t-waste-food-gene, so I ate much of it. The clever ordering totally backfired on me.

Knowing how big a fan our Tennessee girl Flat Coke & Flies is of fried stuff, however, I sent the photos to her and she enjoyed the ice cream vicariously, with the responsive comment “So there IS fried stuff in California!”

Then last Sunday, I…

met up with childhood pal Sandy for lunch. She and I had a great time laughing and bonding over stupid stuff. It’s been awhile since I hooked up with a girlfriend for shits & giggles. It felt great. After a fobby lunch in Irvine we went to the Irvine Spectrum and hung out at the outdoor patio of Dave & Buster’s for drinks, continuing our gigglefest there while people-watching.

We made jokes that I can’t make public, but it was like the good ol’ days again. =)

Of course by this time I’m craving sushi again, so when college roommie Diana got into town for a deposition she was defending, she and I met up for a raw dinner (after another workout together) last Tuesday at a sushi restaurant in Costa Mesa. We’ve been trying to go to Sushi Wasabi for awhile, but every time she’s in town it’s closed (Sundays & Mondays). This restaurant didn’t compare, but it did have a couple of interesting items. This is the “Shrimp Boat” as served…

…and after Diana doused it in Tabasco.

Good thing we’re both gym rats, and good thing we don’t have cholesterol problems. Yum! The best thing we ordered was done blind off their roll menu. “What’s the Russian Roulette Roll?” I asked our heavily-accented Japanese waitress.
I heard, “It’s a blah-blah spicy yellowtail, blah-blah, and one piece is blah-blah.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting,” I said. “We’ll have one.”
When it arrived, the six identical-looking segments of the roll were arranged in a circle on the plate, cross-section-side up, like a roulette wheel. I was just about to ask Diana what the deal was with this roll as explained by our waitress, when Diana said, “WHAT’s in this roll again? I couldn’t understand her.” Great.
“One piece has something different, was all I could gather,” I said. So we started eating. The spicy yellowtail was chopped tataki-style and not ground as spicy tuna usually is, and was delicious. We speculated what the surprise was.
“Watch, it’s something stupid, like a piece of carrot,” Diana laughed. I joked that maybe it was a penny. That got her chewing more carefully, testing for texture changes. Diana noted that the roll is spicier than she’d expected, which impressed her, and she couldn’t tell the difference between the two pieces she had. I agreed, so far both tasted the same so we must not have gotten to the “special” piece, yet. But what if we had, and didn’t notice it? Two more pieces remained on the plate, so she took one and I took the last.
“Still good, but not different,” I said with my mouth full. But Diana was pointing energetically at her own stuffed mouth now, making a slight whimpering sound. “What’s different?” I asked. She couldn’t talk. She was, however, turning colors slightly.
She finally swallowed the piece and chugged tea. “It’s TOTALLY SPICY! Oh my GAWD!” she said when she could breathe again. “I don’t know what’s in it cuz the texture never changed, but I’m thinking it was chopped up habaneros!” She stayed red for another few minutes, complaining of her burning mouth. Haha! The Russian Roulette: what a great roll!

Yesterday morning I took leave of my boy…

…and went to work as usual. In the morning, I received an email from college roommie Diana stating she’s now in town on her business trip. We finalized our after-work meeting up plans. I would hit the gym at lunchtime as usual with Gym Trainee, then meet up with Diana afterwards for a run (GREAT weather this week, high 70s F, cool breezes, clear skies) before dinner.
Unfortunately, I went for another long hilly run over the weekend and left my shoes at home. Again! I didn’t even realize this until Gym Trainee and I were almost at the gym. I was so upset coming back to work, thinking my evening running plans were foiled, too. But then I remembered my Courtroom Emergency Shoes. I had Emergency Trunk Shoes (an old pair of running shoes) before, which my mother insisted I turn into Courtroom Emergency Shoes in case the building collapses while I’m at work and I have to pick my way out of debris, gravel, and broken glass in my heels. I decided yesterday that I have more occasion to use Emergency Trunk Shoes for all the times I’ve arrived shoeless to the gym, than to use Emergency Courtroom Shoes, so that’s how that pair of shoes got its old title back.
I met up with Diana at fancy South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa, where she was attempting to buy a dress.

I say “attempting” because I walked in 10 seconds before she discovered the dress she’d been eyeing for weeks and finally decided to buy could not be purchased with an American Express card, which was all she had on her. Haha! I just spotted her the purchase and she paid me back in cash later on. What are college roommates for, right?
We walked to her hotel from there, across the street, changed and got ready for our workout.

We thought we’d hit both cardio and weights, since I missed the noon workout. The hotel’s small gym was fairly decent. We did a 30-minute treadmill run and carried a full conversation the entire time. That made the time fly. Then we did some random resistance training.

I like the above photo for several reasons. One, it’s a fun angle. Two, Diana and I are both in it. Three, I got to secretly include the woman who came in to work out in JUST HER BRA. See her reflection in the mirror on the treadmill.
On the way out from the gym section, we passed by the pretty outdoor pool and patio area. It was beautiful, and we wished we could’ve taken advantage of the conversation areas with more friends — the pool area had lounge chairs set up…

…the outdoors lounging area had large L-shaped outdoor couches, firepits, low tables, high barstools around pedestal tables.

And, cabanas. Ahhhh…

Hey, I just saw that I’m still wearing my workout gloves. Haha, what a geek.

After that shot, Diana and I went back to her room, showered, and went to Irvine for some Korean Soon Tofu. Yum. Of course after that we hit up Mochilato and had a giant Italian-style shaved ice. I was so full driving home that as soon as I went inside, I only had time to hand Mr. W a little gift box of four assorted mochis I’d selected for him, before crashing to bed upstairs.