Let me just say that I HATE sucking at things. I mean, I really, REALLY hate it. Frankly, I try not to do things that I think I might suck at just to avoid that "you suck" feeling. And it's even worse when I do something, not expecting to suck and I am off the charts sucky. Typically, when it comes to all things athletic, there is no suckiness to speak of. I have been blessed with great genetics and good body control, so physical things come easily to me. I have embraced this as one of my strong suits, one of my better qualities; so when this does not prove to be true, it shakes me to my core. And pisses me off to no end. So yeah, I am a sore loser.
And this is especially true for things that I have never tried but always *known* I would be good at. Take tennis for instance. If you know how to play, please hold your laughter now, but I have always thought that tennis would be pretty easy. I am quack and have long legs and arms, so I should be able to cover the court pretty well. And the racquet is pretty big, so I SHOULD be able to hit the ball pretty easily. I have tried to play tennis before and was definitely able to hit the ball, even if I did hit it off the court...meaning over the fence and totally out of the court area. So I do kind of suck, but was always confident that with just a few pointers, I would make people believe I was Serena Williams. So really I just need some lessons from someone who knows what the hell they are doing. Enter Camargo Racquet Club.
I relied on my good friend Google to point me in the direction of good tennis lessons. As I am ruling out place after place it occurs to me that it might be difficult to learn a SUMMER sport in the middle of winter. But someone has got to have indoor courts in this town, so I keep looking. I finally stumble on the perfect solution: a five week clinic called tennis in no time that is being offered by Camargo racquet club. They promise that in five hour and a half sessions you will be able to not embarrass yourself while playing tennis. And they give you a free racquet. Perfect, I’m in!! The only problem I can foresee is that it is on Friday nights from 630 to 8. Not that I have an overflowing social calendar but damn, I have to commit five Fridays to this?! And the first lesson is the Friday of my birthday weekend. Charlene will be in town and I am sure that the last thing I will want to do is go to a tennis lesson when we could be out having a great sushi dinner or something. But I remind myself, I am committed to the process, and if this is the day I have to start tennis lessons then so be it.
Friday is ushered in by a Cincinnati style snowstorm: only a few inches but the city shuts down as if there were a few feet! As the day goes on and the roads are getting worse and worse, I am not sure if we are even going to have the tennis lesson. Being from Alaska, I have no problem getting there, but half the city is shut down at this point so I am not sure if I will be left scrambling for my "thing" for today. I call the racquet club at about 5 and the woman who answered said that the class was still on, so I guess we are good to go. I am trying to decide what to wear and am bummed that I don't have one of those cute little tennis outfits. I had intended to buy one for the lesson but kind of forgot about it. To be honest, the cute outfits are part of the reason I want to learn to play. Shallow? Maybe...but you have to admit they are pretty damn cute. And you can't really run around wearing one if you don't really play or you'll look like a freak. Lessons will give me a legitimate reason to shop for new tennis clothes (as if I need a reason to shop!)
I decide on sweats and a t-shirt, then get bundled up to head to class. The roads are slushy and the snow is coming down and I am just hoping that I am not the only one who decided to come to class tonight. When I arrive in the parking lot I get more nervous because there are very few cars there. I really am gonna be the only one in class. Shit! I walk in to the front desk to get checked in and am relieved to see some other people milling around with new-looking racquets. I am assuming (hoping...praying!) they are here for the class and when the woman behind the desk hands me a racquet that is identical to theirs i am so relieved. I decide that I need to feel these people out and find out if they were all truly beginners (ready sucky!) like me or if I was in for an embarrassing hour and a half. The other three women there are very friendly and assure me that they have not had any tennis experience either (yeah, we'll see!).
Finally it is time to get started and we are lead down to one of the far courts. We have two instructors, one older man and one younger (cute!) guy. They split us up into two groups and I am with the older man working on a two handed backhand. I am kind of surprised that we just jumped right in but have no choice but to go with it. I am really starting to get nervous at this point because he hasn't really given us many pointers, he just starts tossing balls at us. I hit the first couple of balls and they go flying. Luckily, most of the other people in my group are doing the same thing. Some people are missing the ball completely and I feel great and a little smug that I am not THAT bad....until I start missing balls. God this sucks! I suck!! For every one ball I hit sort of well, I hit five very badly and miss two or three. The worst part is, the more balls we hit, the better everyone else seems to be doing. Everyone, that is, except me. I am convinced that some of these people have had tennis experience. LIARS!!!
Finally we are done with the backhand and more to the forehand. The cute guy is a better instructor than the other guy and he gives more direction as to what the hell we are doing, before jumping right in. We do a few practice swings and I get my confidence back, convinced that I am going to be really good at this shot. We start the drill with the actual balls and I am immediately disappointed. I am not just bad at this shot, it might be worse than my backhand. And now I am embarrassing myself in front of the cute instructor. Damn damn damn. the only good thing about tennis for me at this point, is that I am fast and cover the court really well (which I always knew I would! at least I was right about something!), but that doesn't make up for the other suckiness.
The forehand drill can't be over fast enough! Not only am I a terrible tennis player but I am totally out of shape! I am winded from chasing down balls and it seems like I am the only one who can't catch their breath. I didn't bring any water and I am dying of thirst, and one sneak peek at the clock tells me that this is not even half over yet! I don't think I can' take sucking for another 45 minutes, but I don't think I have a choice. I can't do what I want to do which is throw my racquet like John McEnroe and scream "tennis sucks!", so I guess I will have to continue the drills. I am hoping to get better, but as I get more tired, I think I get worse (if that is possible). I realize as class is ending that I have four weeks left of this madness, and I can only pray that the tennis gods will bestow on me some sort of skill before the next class.
But if not, at least I will suck looking VERY CUTE in my new tennis outfits!
Friday, February 5, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Commitment issues - Day 32 of 35 days to 35
Let me just put it out there...Charlene is a bit of a bully. I mean that in the most non-threatening and complimentary way possible. But she is. Most of the daring, out of the ordinary and possibly crazy things we have done have been her idea and have taken quite a bit of coaxing for me to go along with. It all started with the piercing of the top of our left ear when we were freshman in college. I knew our parents were going to freak, but somehow Charlene convinced me that it really wasn't that big of a deal and that they wouldn't be that upset. She was wrong. And you would think the tongue lashing and "I’m so disappointed in you" speech would have made me tell her where to go and how to get there the next time she came up with some nutty idea. But no...my dumb ass continues to follow the lead of my "big sister" (she is only ten minutes older than be but the hear her tell it, you'd think it was ten years!), doing one crazy thing after another.
After the ear piercing was the tattoo.....then the belly button piercing...she tried to get me to do the tongue piercing with her but I had to draw the line there. But she did talk me into a tragus piercing (the tragus is that small flap of cartilage on the front of your ear, the part you push down when you are trying to plug your ears) a few years ago but that is where it stopped. The thing about piercings and tattoos is that they can be kind of addicting. You get one, and something compels you to keep going, and what you once thought was out of the question now seems like not such a big deal. The good girl in me was fighting these urges but doing a bad job with the coaxing of the devil on my shoulder, otherwise known as Charlene. She had convinced me to get another tattoo, and we wanted to get something that symbolized our twinship in the same place on our bodies. You would think the issue would be what to get, but no. the issue was WHERE to get it and HOW BIG it would be. Of course Charlene wanted it to be really big and on a place that would be very difficult to hide if need be, like the shoulder or back of the neck or something. I, on the other hand, wanted a dainty one on our ankle or someplace non-threatening to "normal people". So we haven't gotten the tattoo yet.
When this project started, she re-introduced the idea of a "twin tattoo" as one of our things. Technically we couldn't do it anyway since we have both had tattoos already and this was supposed to be something we had never done before. But Charlene, ever the manipulator, I mean creative thinker, said that we had never gotten a TWIN TATTOO before so it would still count. But even if I agreed with this flimsy logic (which I didn't) we still had the problem of location. And it seems as if her idea of the size of the tattoo had gotten bigger as well. This was so not gonna work.
So I, feeding off of Charlene's creativity, came up with a perfect compromise: a henna tattoo. This would be perfect. It wouldn't be permanent so we could get it wherever she wanted it and however big she wanted it because it would be gone soon. And it would actually fall into the real rules of our project because neither of us had ever gotten a henna tattoo. Surprisingly, it did not take much to convince Charlene that this was a good idea. I think she thought she was winning since she got to pick the size and location and I felt like I won because it wasn't permanent. Ah, the art of compromise. Isn’t it beautiful??
Now I had the task of finding a henna artist. You would think that this would not have been that difficult: Cincinnati is a fairly large city and there are a million tattoo and piercing places around, so logically you would think that one of them would have a henna artist. Nope. I called five or six places and all of them said that they did not have a henna artist there. I was getting discouraged because the websites of these places said that they offered henna but they were all telling me I was S.O.L. I called the last tattoo place on my list, hoping but not hopeful, and I finally struck gold. The guy on the phone said that they did not offer it there but he had the name and number of a henna artist (Caitlin) who would be able to help me. FINALLY!
After playing phone tag with Caitlin for a few days, I was finally able to reach her. She did not work in a shop or anything but said that she could come to us or we could come to her, whatever would be more convenient. This is great! We made an appointment to go to her house on Thursday morning and I was starting to get really excited. We had picked the yin yang symbol as our tattoo and Charlene decided we were going to get it on our left shoulder/upper back area. I would love to get a real one there but frankly, I’m just too much of a weenie to commit to it so this way I get to play rebel tattoo girl without the pain and permanency of a real one.
We arrive at Caitlin’s apartment on Thursday and are greeted by a short, young-looking white girl. at this point I am a little skeptical of her abilities...she doesn't really look like she would know what she is doing, but I figure we are here now so we may as well go for it. She explains that she will do the design with the henna and we are to try not to move that part of our bodies very much. We are supposed to let it dry and then keep it moist with a wet paper towel for the next hour to hour and a half. this could pose a problem because I do have to drive home so I have to move and it is snowing outside so the tank top I am wearing right now is not going to cut it, I will have to put my sweater back on which might mess it up. Maybe I didn't think this through. Caitlin starts on my tattoo first and in no time she is finished. It’s on my back so I can't see it but Charlene assures me it looks good. Caitlin finishes Charlene’s just as quickly and she is right, it does look great! The henna is dark brown and globby and Caitlin says we need to keep it moist for as long as possible so it will get dark and last longer. It occurs to me that we are kind of the same color as henna and it may not show up very well. Again, maybe I didn't think this through....
Caitlin gives us each a moist paper towel and instructions to keep pressing it on the tattoo to keep it moist. But before we even get home, part of Charlene’s tattoo has flaked off! She had been keeping the paper towel on it but that didn't seem to help. It had definitely not been an hour and half so we were worried that part of the tattoo would not show up. By the time we got home, part of mine had done the same thing. DAMMIT! Okay this is not what I bargained for at all! We called Caitlin and asked if we could come back and have her fix it and thankfully she agreed. So we headed back over to her apartment for a quick touch up and another moist paper towel. This time it was about 45 minutes before pieces started flaking off. Charlene and I looked like crazy people running around in tank tops in 30 degree weather, but that's the price you pay, right?!
By late afternoon we weren't sure if the henna was going to "take" but we agreed that we were sick of holding that stupid paper towel on our shoulders so we decided to let it dry and see what happened from there. I was really hoping that it turned out the way we hoped and that we didn't make two trips for nothing, but I wasn't real hopeful.
We went about the rest of the afternoon and evening and, to be honest, I kind of forgot about it. Later that evening, while watching Grey's Anatomy, I get up off the couch to grab a drink and Charlene yells "the tattoo looks awesome!" It took me a second to realize what she was talking about but when I did I ran to the bathroom to take a look. IT DID LOOK GREAT! It was perfect! Now I had to figure out a way to show it off...on my shoulder...in the middle of winter.
Don’t worry, I am sure I can come up with something!
After the ear piercing was the tattoo.....then the belly button piercing...she tried to get me to do the tongue piercing with her but I had to draw the line there. But she did talk me into a tragus piercing (the tragus is that small flap of cartilage on the front of your ear, the part you push down when you are trying to plug your ears) a few years ago but that is where it stopped. The thing about piercings and tattoos is that they can be kind of addicting. You get one, and something compels you to keep going, and what you once thought was out of the question now seems like not such a big deal. The good girl in me was fighting these urges but doing a bad job with the coaxing of the devil on my shoulder, otherwise known as Charlene. She had convinced me to get another tattoo, and we wanted to get something that symbolized our twinship in the same place on our bodies. You would think the issue would be what to get, but no. the issue was WHERE to get it and HOW BIG it would be. Of course Charlene wanted it to be really big and on a place that would be very difficult to hide if need be, like the shoulder or back of the neck or something. I, on the other hand, wanted a dainty one on our ankle or someplace non-threatening to "normal people". So we haven't gotten the tattoo yet.
When this project started, she re-introduced the idea of a "twin tattoo" as one of our things. Technically we couldn't do it anyway since we have both had tattoos already and this was supposed to be something we had never done before. But Charlene, ever the manipulator, I mean creative thinker, said that we had never gotten a TWIN TATTOO before so it would still count. But even if I agreed with this flimsy logic (which I didn't) we still had the problem of location. And it seems as if her idea of the size of the tattoo had gotten bigger as well. This was so not gonna work.
So I, feeding off of Charlene's creativity, came up with a perfect compromise: a henna tattoo. This would be perfect. It wouldn't be permanent so we could get it wherever she wanted it and however big she wanted it because it would be gone soon. And it would actually fall into the real rules of our project because neither of us had ever gotten a henna tattoo. Surprisingly, it did not take much to convince Charlene that this was a good idea. I think she thought she was winning since she got to pick the size and location and I felt like I won because it wasn't permanent. Ah, the art of compromise. Isn’t it beautiful??
Now I had the task of finding a henna artist. You would think that this would not have been that difficult: Cincinnati is a fairly large city and there are a million tattoo and piercing places around, so logically you would think that one of them would have a henna artist. Nope. I called five or six places and all of them said that they did not have a henna artist there. I was getting discouraged because the websites of these places said that they offered henna but they were all telling me I was S.O.L. I called the last tattoo place on my list, hoping but not hopeful, and I finally struck gold. The guy on the phone said that they did not offer it there but he had the name and number of a henna artist (Caitlin) who would be able to help me. FINALLY!
After playing phone tag with Caitlin for a few days, I was finally able to reach her. She did not work in a shop or anything but said that she could come to us or we could come to her, whatever would be more convenient. This is great! We made an appointment to go to her house on Thursday morning and I was starting to get really excited. We had picked the yin yang symbol as our tattoo and Charlene decided we were going to get it on our left shoulder/upper back area. I would love to get a real one there but frankly, I’m just too much of a weenie to commit to it so this way I get to play rebel tattoo girl without the pain and permanency of a real one.
We arrive at Caitlin’s apartment on Thursday and are greeted by a short, young-looking white girl. at this point I am a little skeptical of her abilities...she doesn't really look like she would know what she is doing, but I figure we are here now so we may as well go for it. She explains that she will do the design with the henna and we are to try not to move that part of our bodies very much. We are supposed to let it dry and then keep it moist with a wet paper towel for the next hour to hour and a half. this could pose a problem because I do have to drive home so I have to move and it is snowing outside so the tank top I am wearing right now is not going to cut it, I will have to put my sweater back on which might mess it up. Maybe I didn't think this through. Caitlin starts on my tattoo first and in no time she is finished. It’s on my back so I can't see it but Charlene assures me it looks good. Caitlin finishes Charlene’s just as quickly and she is right, it does look great! The henna is dark brown and globby and Caitlin says we need to keep it moist for as long as possible so it will get dark and last longer. It occurs to me that we are kind of the same color as henna and it may not show up very well. Again, maybe I didn't think this through....
Caitlin gives us each a moist paper towel and instructions to keep pressing it on the tattoo to keep it moist. But before we even get home, part of Charlene’s tattoo has flaked off! She had been keeping the paper towel on it but that didn't seem to help. It had definitely not been an hour and half so we were worried that part of the tattoo would not show up. By the time we got home, part of mine had done the same thing. DAMMIT! Okay this is not what I bargained for at all! We called Caitlin and asked if we could come back and have her fix it and thankfully she agreed. So we headed back over to her apartment for a quick touch up and another moist paper towel. This time it was about 45 minutes before pieces started flaking off. Charlene and I looked like crazy people running around in tank tops in 30 degree weather, but that's the price you pay, right?!
By late afternoon we weren't sure if the henna was going to "take" but we agreed that we were sick of holding that stupid paper towel on our shoulders so we decided to let it dry and see what happened from there. I was really hoping that it turned out the way we hoped and that we didn't make two trips for nothing, but I wasn't real hopeful.
Don’t worry, I am sure I can come up with something!
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Not quite Miss Cleo...but close - Day 31 of 35 days to 35
I would never call myself a skeptic. I am open to pretty much anything....you think aliens exist? Maybe. You believe in witches? Okay, whatever works for you. I know there is so much evidence that we only use a small percentage of our brains, which leads me to believe that we are probably capable of much more than we actually think we are. So this whole thing about the sixth sense and being able to know things or see things that you aren't supposed to kind of makes sense to me.
I have had too many experiences in my life that don't have any logical explanation which also makes me think there might be something to it. For instance, I will think I see someone that I haven't seen in a long time, but it won’t' be them, and then within a week I will see the person I thought I saw. It might just be a coincidence but I don't think so. Plus there is the whole twin thing. There have been so many times where Charlene and I have felt something for each other, or done the same things at the same time without discussing it. There were several times in college where we saw each other on campus in the middle of the day and we'd be wearing the same thing totally unplanned. We even bought the same book on the same day once when she was living in D.C. and I was in Atlanta. Hell, I was the one who told her she was pregnant! So there has to be something to all if it...and it is incredibly intriguing to me.
So I took the opportunity this project gave me to explore a little of this, and decided to have my tarot cards read. I had thought about doing this several times before but never really had the nerve to do it. What if she gave me horrible news? What if she told me I was dying or that my life was gonna suck for the next year or so? I worry enough, I am thinking that I don't need someone validating that I really do have shit to worry about. But it's time to suck it up and see what the cards have to tell me.
Google told me that there was really only one place here in Cincinnati where I could get a tarot card reading so I was headed out to Amethyst Books and Gifts. I had planned to go before i had to pick Sammi up from school but the place did not open until 11, so Sammi was going to have to make the trip. This oughta be interesting......
Amethyst Gifts and Books was a cute little shop smelling of incense and filled with all kinds of cool books about astrology and everything you would need for mediation, yoga or anything else to connect with your spirituality. It was immediately calming, even Sammi wasn't running all around trying to grab everything. I approached the desk and told the woman there that I had come for my tarot card reading. She told me that Sharon would be doing the reading and she was getting set up for me. The reading was to last for thirty minutes and I was a little worried about how Sammi would do during that time. I had contemplated bringing her portable dvd player but remembered that she is prone to reciting the show/movie and singing the songs loudly so I nixed that idea. Candy always works to tame the beast that is Sammi, so I had a big bag of M&M's along with two or three lollipops. That should buy me thirty minutes (I hope!).
Finally after browsing the store and finding about twelve books I wanted to buy, Sharon was ready for me. Sammi and I follow her into a small, dimly lit room where there is a little table set up with three chairs. We get settled into our chairs (Sammi with the bag of M&M's) and start the reading. Sharon explains to me that I will "guide the proceeds" and that she will audio tape if for me so that I can go home and listen to it again if I want. I am wondering how much information she is going to give me in thirty minutes that I won’t' remember it and will need a tape to remind me! She starts the timer and the tape deck, then tells me to choose a stack of cards to begin with. There are three stacks of large cards, about the size of my hand, and a stack of smaller, playing card sized cards. The large cards are face down and they have different pictures on the backs of them. Already I am starting to sweat because I know that the deck I choose is going to say something about me and I want to choose the "right" one, whichever that one is. I hesitate and then pick the middle deck that has what looks to be a butterfly on the back. Sharon tells me that these are the fairy cards which mean I have a connection to the fairies that represent the earth and Mother Nature. Uh...okay. She tells me to recycle because this pleases them and will bring favor to me (btw, I am not "green" and don't recycle anything! I know, I know, I’m terrible!). I am biting my lip because I feel like laughing at this point. But I am trying to stay open and see if there really is something here, so I take a deep breath and try to listen to her.
She begins flipping over the large cards which represent different areas of my life then turns over the smaller cards to get more detail about each of these areas. As she talks, I am becoming more convinced that what she is doing has some merit. I try very hard not to say anything that might give her clues about me or my life, just to see how much she comes up with on her own and, I gotta say, she is pretty damn good. My favorite part was when she told me I needed a vacation! Seriously, she did tell me some interesting things that I did find relevant to my life. And she said that I should be open to new opportunities because something would present itself in the next two months and by the beginning of April I would recognize it. I guess we will see about that....
When the reading was about over, she asked if I had any other questions for her. At this point, Sammi had climbed into my lap and had been listening intently to what Sharon was saying. I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. Sharon told Sammi that since she had be so good and quiet that she could pick a card to show me what she is helping me with in my life. Sammi picked a card and when she turned it over I couldn't help but smile. The card said "moving forward fearlessly" and Sharon said that is what Sammi was helping me do. I couldn't agree more. If nothing else in that reading was true, that card hit the nail on the head.
I have had too many experiences in my life that don't have any logical explanation which also makes me think there might be something to it. For instance, I will think I see someone that I haven't seen in a long time, but it won’t' be them, and then within a week I will see the person I thought I saw. It might just be a coincidence but I don't think so. Plus there is the whole twin thing. There have been so many times where Charlene and I have felt something for each other, or done the same things at the same time without discussing it. There were several times in college where we saw each other on campus in the middle of the day and we'd be wearing the same thing totally unplanned. We even bought the same book on the same day once when she was living in D.C. and I was in Atlanta. Hell, I was the one who told her she was pregnant! So there has to be something to all if it...and it is incredibly intriguing to me.
So I took the opportunity this project gave me to explore a little of this, and decided to have my tarot cards read. I had thought about doing this several times before but never really had the nerve to do it. What if she gave me horrible news? What if she told me I was dying or that my life was gonna suck for the next year or so? I worry enough, I am thinking that I don't need someone validating that I really do have shit to worry about. But it's time to suck it up and see what the cards have to tell me.
Google told me that there was really only one place here in Cincinnati where I could get a tarot card reading so I was headed out to Amethyst Books and Gifts. I had planned to go before i had to pick Sammi up from school but the place did not open until 11, so Sammi was going to have to make the trip. This oughta be interesting......
Amethyst Gifts and Books was a cute little shop smelling of incense and filled with all kinds of cool books about astrology and everything you would need for mediation, yoga or anything else to connect with your spirituality. It was immediately calming, even Sammi wasn't running all around trying to grab everything. I approached the desk and told the woman there that I had come for my tarot card reading. She told me that Sharon would be doing the reading and she was getting set up for me. The reading was to last for thirty minutes and I was a little worried about how Sammi would do during that time. I had contemplated bringing her portable dvd player but remembered that she is prone to reciting the show/movie and singing the songs loudly so I nixed that idea. Candy always works to tame the beast that is Sammi, so I had a big bag of M&M's along with two or three lollipops. That should buy me thirty minutes (I hope!).
Finally after browsing the store and finding about twelve books I wanted to buy, Sharon was ready for me. Sammi and I follow her into a small, dimly lit room where there is a little table set up with three chairs. We get settled into our chairs (Sammi with the bag of M&M's) and start the reading. Sharon explains to me that I will "guide the proceeds" and that she will audio tape if for me so that I can go home and listen to it again if I want. I am wondering how much information she is going to give me in thirty minutes that I won’t' remember it and will need a tape to remind me! She starts the timer and the tape deck, then tells me to choose a stack of cards to begin with. There are three stacks of large cards, about the size of my hand, and a stack of smaller, playing card sized cards. The large cards are face down and they have different pictures on the backs of them. Already I am starting to sweat because I know that the deck I choose is going to say something about me and I want to choose the "right" one, whichever that one is. I hesitate and then pick the middle deck that has what looks to be a butterfly on the back. Sharon tells me that these are the fairy cards which mean I have a connection to the fairies that represent the earth and Mother Nature. Uh...okay. She tells me to recycle because this pleases them and will bring favor to me (btw, I am not "green" and don't recycle anything! I know, I know, I’m terrible!). I am biting my lip because I feel like laughing at this point. But I am trying to stay open and see if there really is something here, so I take a deep breath and try to listen to her.
She begins flipping over the large cards which represent different areas of my life then turns over the smaller cards to get more detail about each of these areas. As she talks, I am becoming more convinced that what she is doing has some merit. I try very hard not to say anything that might give her clues about me or my life, just to see how much she comes up with on her own and, I gotta say, she is pretty damn good. My favorite part was when she told me I needed a vacation! Seriously, she did tell me some interesting things that I did find relevant to my life. And she said that I should be open to new opportunities because something would present itself in the next two months and by the beginning of April I would recognize it. I guess we will see about that....
When the reading was about over, she asked if I had any other questions for her. At this point, Sammi had climbed into my lap and had been listening intently to what Sharon was saying. I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. Sharon told Sammi that since she had be so good and quiet that she could pick a card to show me what she is helping me with in my life. Sammi picked a card and when she turned it over I couldn't help but smile. The card said "moving forward fearlessly" and Sharon said that is what Sammi was helping me do. I couldn't agree more. If nothing else in that reading was true, that card hit the nail on the head.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
There's nothing to fear but fear itself...bullshit! - Day 30 of 35 days to 35
I have never claimed to be a particularly rational person. I am emotional, some might even say a bit unreasonable and flighty at times. I prefer to say random. I am very, VERY random. It’s not my fault really, how could I not be random? I am a black identical twin who grew up in Alaska, has lived in nine states and likes all music, even country. See, not my fault! So I don't really feel like I have to explain why I have some very random fears. I’m not scared of typical things like heights or small spaces. I'm scared of things that most people take for granted.
The biggest of these fears seems to center around reptiles and amphibians...basically anything is or looks slimy. I blame it on being raised in Alaska where it was far too cold for those ugly things to live. So I did not grow up chasing lizards, seeing garter snakes and playing with frogs. (Although there were some small frogs around with which the boys in the enjoyed torturing me, but you know what I mean). Tons of people are scared of snakes, so that is not really that random, but I, am completely, utterly, paralyzingly terrified of lizards. Trust me people, this is not an overstatement. It is a phobia, a full fledged, panic attack inducing phobia. And it's not just the big ugly ones I hate, it's the little so-called cute ones too. F-ing geckos! I hate them! Even the stupid little cartoon one on the Geico commercials, I wish someone would just step on him.
People always laugh and say "they are more scared of you than you are of them" or "you know could just step on it and kill it". To that I say....look up the definition of phobia: an IRRATIONAL fear. It’s not supposed to make sense. Yes, I know they run from people and yes, in theory I could crush one very easily but that is of no consequence. I see them and I freeze. Far away, close up, behind glass, it doesn't matter, I have pretty much the same response: sheer and utter terror.
I have never really liked them but I blame the intensity of my phobia on my dad (mom, you're off the hook on this one!). He scarred me for life with his attempt to shock me out of my fear of lizards. Seriously. Scarred for life. I was eight and our family had spent Christmas in Miami with my grandparents and other extended family. One of the reasons I hated (and still hate) going to Miami is because of the abundance of lizards. Those little bastards are everywhere. Whenever I know lizards are around I look for them to make sure they don't get too close but in Miami it's damn near impossible to find them all. Ugh, I hate even thinking about it. Anyway, so one evening as we are leaving my great grandmother's house the subject of this fear comes up. My great grandma's house had a screened in porch and she always kept the light on, even at night. So when it got dark, all of the lizards decided to stick to the screen (just to taunt me I am certain). Along with that, the sidewalk from the house to the street was lined on both dies with big lizard-filled hedges that creeped me the hell out. I came up with a great strategy to avoid the lizards, though; I would kiss and hug my great grandmother then run, literally run, from the safety of the house to the safety of the street. See, I figured if I was not by grass, I would remain safe from the lizards. Everyone in my family knew this plan, and even though they thought it was silly, they understood because they knew how afraid I was.
This particular night, my dad apparently decided that he would help me get over this fear. So I hug my great grandmother and prepare to make my dash to the road. It is important to note here that I had an arm full of Barbies because it was Christmas and Santa had been very good to me. Okay so as I prepare to make my dash, I feel heaviness on my left shoulder and I am unable to make run. I look up into my dad's smirking face and realize that this is not going to end well.
"Where are you going? Why are you running?" my dad says, all innocent like he doesn’t see my increasing panic. "Why don't you walk with me?"
I try to squirm away but it is impossible to get out of his grip. I am trying to walk as fast as I can but I am dragging a 220 pound man and he is just not going anywhere. I can feel my heart beating faster and faster, and I am starting to shake. All I can think is I have to get to the street, I HAVE to get to the street. We start down the sidewalk and I can feel the tears coming. This is seriously the worst thing that has happened in all of my eight years. And then it gets worse.
I feel something hit my right shoulder at the same time I hear my dad say "there's a lizard on you!"
I am sure what you are imagining next is not even a portion of the madness that was about to ensue. All I remember is throwing my Barbies up in the air, running to the street and being completely unable to stop screaming. I mean hysterical, someone-is-trying-to-kill-me screaming. My whole body is shaking and I swear I am about to die any moment. The next thing I remember, my mother is beside me trying to calm me down and my great grandmother is chasing my dad with the broom shouting "You're gonna give that baby a heart attack! What’s wrong with you?!"
I am not sure I ever really calmed down that night. I cried and shook the whole way back to my grandmother's house where we were staying and I remember lying in bed still freaked the hell out. Needless to say my mother was less than impressed with my father's tactics to scare my fear out of me (really? that logic made sense to him? come on!), and he was in the dog house for a few days. His antics had the exact opposite effect on me; if I was scared of lizards before that night, I was 100% phobic after that incident.
So see it's not my fault.
I have tried to address the phobia in my adult life. It really is a hindrance to me; every time someone mentions how nice it would be to lounge on a tropical beach, all I can think if is THERE ARE LOTS OF LIZARDS THERE! So things that should be enjoyable are marred by this fear of lizards and my insane need to look for them if I know they are around. I have tried looking at pictures and TV shows with lizards on them to try to desensitize myself to them but nothing works. I have tried to go into the reptile house at the zoo and I just can't make my feet carry me through the door. I really, really tried. But the last time I seriously had a panic attack before I even made it to the door. But I have to try again, I have to get over this phobia and this 35 days project is about the only way I will be able to bring myself to come face to face with my nemesis.
Colleen is trying to suppress her giggles and agrees to go in and do some recon for me. She comes back pretty quickly and says "In the middle of the room, you have your run of the mill alligator. Then to the left are the lizards and then the snakes are on the right." Wait a minute....run of the mill alligator?! WTF?! Like we see those nasty things every day walking down the street or something. Good God. I am never gonna be able to do this. I try to remind myself to breathe and I hear myself gulp...literally like in cartoons where you hear the characters gulp loudly, I really did that. Damn, I must be scared. My hands are shaking so I jam them in my pockets and try to tell myself to calm down. 
P.S. You can thank Colleen for the lovely photos documenting this fiasco!
Monday, February 1, 2010
What's all the fuss about? - Day 29 of 35 days to 35
For as much as I love to be original, I definitely have a need to fit in. I jokingly say all the time that I am trying to be one of the cool kids, but it really isn't THAT much of a joke. I like to think of myself as trendy and want to be in the know about all of the coolest and latest things. Fashion magazines (and my 21 year old niece) help me stay abreast of the latest fashions and I rely on satellite radio to keep me on the cutting edge of music. If there is a new trend in food, I will at least think about trying it (need I remind you of my food issues) and I was one of the first to sip on cosmos after Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and charlotte made it cool. So you can imagine how I felt when the coffee, or should I say, Starbucks craze hit the nation. I don't drink coffee or any coffee related drink, so all I could do is stare with jealous eyes at all of the cool kids with their Starbucks cups. Yes I do drink tea but it's just not the same. I longed to walk up to the counter and order some sort of complicated latter or cappuccino drink. I tried like hell to find something that I like on the menu so that I could at least fake it. I was happy to learn that they do serve camel apple cider which I love (without the caramel of course!) so I can walk around with my Starbucks cup and be a cool kid.
So many of the people in my life really, really love coffee. I mean an obsessive love, an I-have-to-have-it-or-I’ll-hurt-somebody love. It can't just be the caffeine, there are plenty of other things that pack just as good a caffeine punch as coffee, so it must be something differ, something else. I always said I didn't like coffee, but to be fair I had never tried it. I like the smell of it, so that's a start, but I have always been hesitant to try it. I am already addicted to Pepsi and sugar so really I don't need to add another vice but apparently this is one of those things that "everyone" does so I have to at least try to get on the bandwagon.
I decided if I was going to try coffee, I would go to the mecca of coffee houses, Starbucks, of course. This is the place where even people on a budget will happily drop five dollars a day on one of their many cups of wonder, so I figured there really was no other choice. I walked into my neighborhood Starbucks and was thankful that there was a line so I had time to figure out what to order. I work to tear my eyes away from the pastry display (look at those cookies!!) and gaze up at what can only be described as the most confusing bunch of madness I have ever seen. Are you kidding me with this? Are there really this many choices of coffee? Really? How the hell am I supposed to know what to order? I just want coffee. I don't even know what a macchiato is! Shit. And I will look like a complete ass if I walk up there and say "I want a cup of coffee." There is now only one person in front of me and I am no closer to knowing what to order than when I walked in. It’s gonna be my turn, shit, it's gonna be my turn!
"Hi! What can I get ya?"
She is way too happy right now. My guess is she has been drinking more coffee than she is serving. I still have no idea what to order but I am too embarrassed to admit that to her and ask for help.
"Um, I'm just going to have one of those cookies," I mumbled.
I am so pissed at myself but I just couldn't bring myself to say "I've never had coffee before so what should I order?" Inevitably should would have looked at me like I had a third arm growing from the middle of my chest and I would have just felt dumb. So I chickened out.
I did have a backup plan, though. I had heard that the coffee at speedway gas station was pretty good and I would have to pass one on my way home, so I would just get coffee there. I am sure, at 7 PM there will not be a bunch of people hanging out at the coffee pot so I should be able to figure out this coffee madness in peace. Plus I had gotten advice from colleen as to what to get if I did go to speedway (I had a feeling I might lose my nerve in Starbucks). She recommended French vanilla coffee. I'm not really sure what that is but I am thinking it should be pretty easy to figure it out. I had decided that I would get a French vanilla coffee as well as a regular coffee. I figure if I am going to try coffee, I have to be true to the process and try just plain old black coffee as well as the French vanilla thing.
Thankfully, when I arrive at speedway, the only other person there is the kid working the counter with eight piercings in his head. At least if I have to ask someone I won't feel dumb, he has holes all in his head for God's sake! I walk over to the coffee corner and am confused right away. There are two pots of coffee that look like they have been sitting there for a while. Then there is a machine that looks like a soda fountain but instead of soda it dispenses things like mocha cappuccino and fat free French vanilla cappuccino. I am not sure if this is what colleen was talking about so I reach for my phone to call her and realize I left it in the car. DAMMIT! I glance over at pierced boy and he is texting frantically and playing with his tongue ring. (Insert big long, pitiful sigh here.) I guess I’m on my own. I fill one cup with regular coffee and grab four creamers. Now it's back to this damn machine again. I am guessing this is what colleen meant when she said French vanilla coffee so I fill my second cup with this light brown stuff that smells kind of like chocolate (I thought this was supposed to be vanilla!) and head home.
sitting at my table staring at the two steaming cups of joe I am struck with how often in this process if have been sitting in this exact spot looking at something I had no desire to consume but feeling as if I had no choice. This will be the LAST thing I put in my mouth against my will! I pour some of the black coffee in a separate cup because I want to taste it like that but then add cream and sugar to it. I would bet all of my shoes (that's HUGE for me!) that I will hate this, but I’m being true to the project so here goes. I planned to take a big sip but as soon as that bitter stuff touched my tongue I slammed the cup back on the table. EWWWWW. That was seriously nasty. I am hoping that there is some sort of crazy magic in those little packs of creamer and sugar but it's not looking good. I decide to try the French vanilla cappuccino next. I am actually pretty hopeful about this. I love vanilla and am thinking that this might be my "in" to the coffee cool kids club. I take a good sized drink of the cappuccino and have to force myself to swallow it. Okay, that was nasty too. And it damn sure didn't taste vanilla-y to me! It tasted more like chocolate (which I am allergic to and HATE) and is really giving my gag reflex a workout. I am not sure I will be able to bring myself to try the last coffee option. I stall by adding two creamers and several mounds of sugar to the once-black coffee. I pray to the sugar gods; dear sugar, you know I love you, I am a loyal friend and will be for life. Please sugar, make this coffee drinkable. Amen.
Sugar betrayed me. I spit it back in the cup almost as soon as it was in my mouth. That shit is nasty. Seriously, I have NO idea how people drink that crap every day. If that is my ticket in, I will so not be one of the cool kids and I don't even care. Y’all can HAVE coffee, I’ll stick to faking it with my apple cider filled Starbucks cup!
So many of the people in my life really, really love coffee. I mean an obsessive love, an I-have-to-have-it-or-I’ll-hurt-somebody love. It can't just be the caffeine, there are plenty of other things that pack just as good a caffeine punch as coffee, so it must be something differ, something else. I always said I didn't like coffee, but to be fair I had never tried it. I like the smell of it, so that's a start, but I have always been hesitant to try it. I am already addicted to Pepsi and sugar so really I don't need to add another vice but apparently this is one of those things that "everyone" does so I have to at least try to get on the bandwagon.
I decided if I was going to try coffee, I would go to the mecca of coffee houses, Starbucks, of course. This is the place where even people on a budget will happily drop five dollars a day on one of their many cups of wonder, so I figured there really was no other choice. I walked into my neighborhood Starbucks and was thankful that there was a line so I had time to figure out what to order. I work to tear my eyes away from the pastry display (look at those cookies!!) and gaze up at what can only be described as the most confusing bunch of madness I have ever seen. Are you kidding me with this? Are there really this many choices of coffee? Really? How the hell am I supposed to know what to order? I just want coffee. I don't even know what a macchiato is! Shit. And I will look like a complete ass if I walk up there and say "I want a cup of coffee." There is now only one person in front of me and I am no closer to knowing what to order than when I walked in. It’s gonna be my turn, shit, it's gonna be my turn!
"Hi! What can I get ya?"
She is way too happy right now. My guess is she has been drinking more coffee than she is serving. I still have no idea what to order but I am too embarrassed to admit that to her and ask for help.
"Um, I'm just going to have one of those cookies," I mumbled.
I am so pissed at myself but I just couldn't bring myself to say "I've never had coffee before so what should I order?" Inevitably should would have looked at me like I had a third arm growing from the middle of my chest and I would have just felt dumb. So I chickened out.
I did have a backup plan, though. I had heard that the coffee at speedway gas station was pretty good and I would have to pass one on my way home, so I would just get coffee there. I am sure, at 7 PM there will not be a bunch of people hanging out at the coffee pot so I should be able to figure out this coffee madness in peace. Plus I had gotten advice from colleen as to what to get if I did go to speedway (I had a feeling I might lose my nerve in Starbucks). She recommended French vanilla coffee. I'm not really sure what that is but I am thinking it should be pretty easy to figure it out. I had decided that I would get a French vanilla coffee as well as a regular coffee. I figure if I am going to try coffee, I have to be true to the process and try just plain old black coffee as well as the French vanilla thing.
Thankfully, when I arrive at speedway, the only other person there is the kid working the counter with eight piercings in his head. At least if I have to ask someone I won't feel dumb, he has holes all in his head for God's sake! I walk over to the coffee corner and am confused right away. There are two pots of coffee that look like they have been sitting there for a while. Then there is a machine that looks like a soda fountain but instead of soda it dispenses things like mocha cappuccino and fat free French vanilla cappuccino. I am not sure if this is what colleen was talking about so I reach for my phone to call her and realize I left it in the car. DAMMIT! I glance over at pierced boy and he is texting frantically and playing with his tongue ring. (Insert big long, pitiful sigh here.) I guess I’m on my own. I fill one cup with regular coffee and grab four creamers. Now it's back to this damn machine again. I am guessing this is what colleen meant when she said French vanilla coffee so I fill my second cup with this light brown stuff that smells kind of like chocolate (I thought this was supposed to be vanilla!) and head home.
sitting at my table staring at the two steaming cups of joe I am struck with how often in this process if have been sitting in this exact spot looking at something I had no desire to consume but feeling as if I had no choice. This will be the LAST thing I put in my mouth against my will! I pour some of the black coffee in a separate cup because I want to taste it like that but then add cream and sugar to it. I would bet all of my shoes (that's HUGE for me!) that I will hate this, but I’m being true to the project so here goes. I planned to take a big sip but as soon as that bitter stuff touched my tongue I slammed the cup back on the table. EWWWWW. That was seriously nasty. I am hoping that there is some sort of crazy magic in those little packs of creamer and sugar but it's not looking good. I decide to try the French vanilla cappuccino next. I am actually pretty hopeful about this. I love vanilla and am thinking that this might be my "in" to the coffee cool kids club. I take a good sized drink of the cappuccino and have to force myself to swallow it. Okay, that was nasty too. And it damn sure didn't taste vanilla-y to me! It tasted more like chocolate (which I am allergic to and HATE) and is really giving my gag reflex a workout. I am not sure I will be able to bring myself to try the last coffee option. I stall by adding two creamers and several mounds of sugar to the once-black coffee. I pray to the sugar gods; dear sugar, you know I love you, I am a loyal friend and will be for life. Please sugar, make this coffee drinkable. Amen.
Sugar betrayed me. I spit it back in the cup almost as soon as it was in my mouth. That shit is nasty. Seriously, I have NO idea how people drink that crap every day. If that is my ticket in, I will so not be one of the cool kids and I don't even care. Y’all can HAVE coffee, I’ll stick to faking it with my apple cider filled Starbucks cup!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
I told you black people aren't buoyant! - Day 28 of 35 days to 35
We've established that I grew up in Alaska. And that I’m not crazy about hot weather. And that I don't try new things often. And that I'm black. All those things converge to support the fact that I don't swim. , I’ve been in Alaska since I was three and really, how many pools do you think we had there? I was not in the minority with my swimming aversion. I knew tons of people who couldn't swim, so much so that the Anchorage School District tried to make passing a swimming test a graduation requirement. Whatever. My non-swimming ass got my diploma without ever getting in a pool. Going along with the whole lover of cold Alaska thing, I just really don't like weather above 80 degrees. Obviously since I have moved from Alaska I have had to get used to summer highs in the 80s and beyond, but I am not a fan. Typically people who like hot weather hang out at the beach or pool and most of these people actually get in the water. But not me. I have a healthy respect for the water and we have an understanding....I don't get in water above mid thigh and water will not suck me into a watery and terrible death. This has worked for us. I never learned to swim when I was little and frankly I hate water in my face. I hate having water in my ears, even when I wash my hair. maybe it's because I have control issues and I freak out when I can't hear what is going on around me, I don't know, I just know that I avoid it at all costs. The idea of learning to swim at my age makes me wanna go back to Alaska where I can be a non-swimmer in peace. Plus, I don't know very many black people who swim. I used to be able to say "have you ever seen a black Olympic swimmer?" but Cullen Jones messed that up for me with his gold medal in the 400 meter freestyle relay. But I stick by my statement that black people aren't buoyant. We sink. For real, just sink right to the bottom. I’ve tried to float, but my big legs and butt just drag me down. And if you don't float it is kinda hard to swim. So see, I have plenty of good reasons why I don't swim. And we haven't even begun talking about the hair...
I can say with a fair amount of confidence that (most) black women's hair and water do not mix. Unless we are the in chair of a hairstylist, we DO NOT want our hair to get wet. Getting caught in the rain without an umbrella is cause for a meltdown so you can imagine what would happen after swimming. there is just way too much involved in getting it back to its presentable state after it gets wet...it takes way more that the blow dryer attached to the wall in the gym locker room. And if that is enough to keep my ass on dry land, I don't know what is.
But let's be reasonable, swimming is a skill everyone should have. I’ve talked about taking lessons for YEARS but never followed through (go figure!). But now that I am a mother and have a child who loves the water, it is pretty important that I know how to swim. I have these horrible images of Sammi in a pool and something going wrong and all I can do is look around and say "someone get her" because I can't swim to save my life let alone hers. That is not a scenario I want to experience, thank you very much. Plus sammi is learning to swim at school now which means come summertime, she will want to live at the pool. And I want to be able to be in there with her and not feel like I am going to drown if the water is over three and a half feet deep.
That said, I need to find someone to teach me to swim but NOT in a group setting. I need the person's undivided attention because I swear I could drown myself and my instructor too so he or she needs to only have me to worry about. And I think the instructor will have to be a man. Any woman I get will likely be smaller (read weaker) than me and then we are back to the I-will-take-her-down-with-me factor. Definitely a man. preferably one who could pick me up with ease just in case he has to fish my drowning body out of the pool (can you tell I have a lot of faith in my ability to conquer this swimming thing?). My friend Robin works at a fitness center and recommends one of her co-workers, as the perfect person to lead me to the land of the swimmers. She said he is laid back which is good because I will be an uptight mess and he will need to be able to calm me down. She told him about my project and he agreed to help so I sent him an email to set up my first lesson.
As the day for the lesson approaches, I begin to stress more and more about it. What if I get in the water and start flailing like I’m having a seizure as soon as water gets in my ears? This has been known to happen so it is a legitimate concern. AND WHAT ABOUT MY HAIR? This could be a major problem. I have got to get a swim cap to at least attempt to preserve the 'do, but I am not hopeful about its ability to keep my hair dry. Tell me again why I am doing this....
I arrive at Trihealth way early which leaves me plenty of time for my nerves to really get out of control. I’m sitting in the locker room in my new Speedo swimsuit (I wanted to look the part, even if it will be apparent once I hit the water that I am NOT a natural), swim cap in hand and heart in my throat. Unlike most other things, I do not have any delusions about this. It is going to be bad. Just how bad I am not sure, but definitely, definitely bad. I am praying that there aren't very many people in the pool so that I will not have many witnesses to this fiasco but when I walk out I see that is one prayer that was not answered. There are about 15 women in a water aerobics class in one end of the bigger pool along with a few others swimming laps and about ten people hanging around in the warm water pool, where the lesson will take place. Great. Fabulous. Wonderful. My very first swim lesson, which I am certain is going to be nothing short of disastrous, is going to have tons of witnesses. Good times.
I am lost in visions of my impending humiliation, Cedric, my instructor, walks up and introduces himself. He has a kickboard in one hand and something that looks like a long foam dumbbell in the other hand. I am not liking this looks of either of these. As we are exchanging pleasantries, Cedric begins to walk into the shallow end of the pool immediately fear grips my heart.
“Uh, wait a minute. Aren’t we gonna have any prep or anything?" I asked. I am sure the terror on my face is comical. I was hoping for some sort of a warm up, so explanation as to what the hell I would do once I got in the water, but not just diving right in. I’m not ready yet.
"Nope, we're getting right in. come on!" Cedric says smiling. Already I want to knock the smile off his face. Does he not know what he is in for? Does he not realize that the next thirty minutes is going to be pure hell? Clearly he doesn't or he would not be smiling like that.
I walked tentatively into the pool and am at least happy that the water is warm. Cedric immediately starts explaining how he wants me to hold the foam dumbbell out in front of me and "just kick" to the other end of the pool. He says it like it's easy. If it were that easy I’d probably know how to swim already! He assures me that he will be next to me holding me up that whole time. I try to explain my buoyancy problem but he just smiles again and hands me the foam thing.
I sincerely doubt that this foam thing is going to keep me afloat but I can't figure out how to stall any more so I grab it and go. And, just as I suspected, the bottom part of my body starts to sink as soon as I attempt to kick. Cedric keeps telling me to kick from my hips, to scissor my legs and kick hard. I kick as hard as I can and it seems to be getting better. About half way down the pool my legs start to burn and it occurs to me that this is going to be a workout. I did not even think about the fatigue factor. Damn my legs are tired and we are four minutes into the class!
I make it to the end of the pool and with only a few seconds of rest, we are turning around and heading back the other way. I am starting to get a feel for the kick motion but my legs feel as if I have twenty pound ankle weights on them. I am kicking but don't feel like I am going anywhere. We do this a few more times, and I am seriously winded. Then Cedric instructs me to put the foam thing across my chest, lay back onto him and kick. This is considerably easier that the other way. My legs are getting a little bit of a rest plus I get to catch my breath. So, of course, we don't do that part for very long. I practice kicking with the kick board as well and at times I think I get it and then I feel myself sink again. I will blame it on the fatigue. I have always prided myself on my strong legs, but they are jelly right now. I am thrilled when he says it time to practice the arm stroke until I realize that I am still going to have to kick. Shit. This is the longest thirty minutes of my life. And to think that I wanted an hour long lesson!
I put the arm stroke and kicking together and luckily I only have to go half the length of the pool. Cedric has his arm under my hips to help keep me up but I am pretty much doing it. I am too tired to be excited. Plus I am making it tons harder by trying to keep my head out of the water. I know Cedric will not let this silliness continue in my next lesson and I am going to, at some point, have to put my face in the water. But not today. We are done! I survived and think I did okay. Cedric congratulates me and says that I did much better than most of his adult new swimmers. I think he is blowing smoke and trying to make me feel good so I will come back for my next lesson, but I’ll take it. I’m proud of myself, proud that I got in the pool and even tried to do this. I really do want to learn, so I, my sensitive ears and my hair are going to have to make peace with the water. One lesson at a time.
For now lunch is calling my name. I head to the locker room praying that my swim cap worked. But I brought a hat, just in case!
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Cast on, Cast off - Day 27 of 35 days to 35
This 35 day project has been amazing....and filled with amazing challenges. I came up with a bunch of things I would love to do, but I learned that just because I wanted them to be part of my project did NOT mean that was going to happen. Take skydiving for instance: This is something fun and insane that I have always wanted to do so it was literally the first thing I wrote on my list. I thought it would be easy enough; let Google lead me to a local skydiving company, call and set up and appointment then let 'er rip. There were several problems with this plan. First, this project is going on during the coldest month of the year. This would not be a problem but I live in OHIO! It's cold here. And snowy. And not really conducive to jumping out of an airplane. Still, I was determined to find someone somewhere within driving distance that would be willing to toss me out of a plane. I called places in Columbus, Dayton, Louisville, Lexington, Indianapolis...well you get the picture. They all said the same thing: call back at the end of February, which is clearly not going to work for me. The closest place I found willing to do it was over five hours away in Tennessee. I guess some would say that I didn't want to skydive THAT bad or I would have driven my crazy ass wherever I needed to go. But let's talk logistics, people. I work, I have a three year old and I don't have a random ten plus hours to drive to Tennessee. Yes I was bummed but reality had to win out.
The funny part is that some of the other things that have been a huge challenge to accomplish are nowhere near as involved as going skydiving! Case in point, I have been actively trying to attend my first knitting class for the past two weeks. The one place in the area that I found gives lessons on Wednesday evenings and Saturday afternoons. So for the past two weeks I have planned to go to class and for many different reasons (no babysitter, bad weather, class cancelled) I have not been able to attend. You would think it would be fairly simple for me to get to a two hour class that is no more than twenty minutes from my house, but the comedy of errors that ensues every time I try to go makes me think that the universe just does not want me at this class. But I really want to learn to knit!! I have been crocheting for the past ten years or so and I love it. I have become a master at making afghans, scarves and hats, but one of my bucket list goals is to knit a sweater. I'm not sure why, I just think it would be really neat to go around wearing a sweater that I made. I don't have a lot of creative ability so if could manage to make something that is actually suitable to be worn in public, I'd feel really good about myself.
Today, once again, I wasn't able to go to the knitting glass so I decided that I would teach myself. I know how to crochet, which I am aware uses a totally different needle, but the manual dexterity from crocheting should help (I hope, I hope!). After a quick trip to Wal-Mart to get some yarn and knitting needles (which I had no idea about so I had to guess at what size would be easiest), I am ready to become a master knitter. So I turn to the best resource I can think of to aid me in my quest: YOUTUBE! Along with the comical, disturbing, and completely ridiculous videos, there are some useful ones too. A quick search of "learn to knit" brought up several videos. The first one was 5 minutes of someone knitting to music with no sort of explanation whatsoever. Seriously, no words. Just bad 70's style porno music playing and the same scenes of someone’s hands knitting. Yeah, that's not even a little bit helpful. But with the second one I hit the jackpot. It was a video of a hip looking 20-something showing you the basics of knitting. I watched it about twelve times before I even picked up yarn and needle. She made it sounds so easy and I could follow the hands on the screen so I figured I would pick this up in no time. I start the video from the beginning pick up my needle, ready to follow her but it seems like she is talking a mile a minute! Seriously, she was NOT talking this fast the other dozen times I watched it. I was lost at trying to tie the slip knot!!!
After about five replays, I got the slip knot down and think I have done the casting on part right, which is how you start any project. Then I move to making my first row and it all goes to shit. I have NO idea what I am doing wrong but it so does not look like what I am seeing on the screen. I keep pulling out the jacked up stitches and starting over but it is just not right. I should have known it would not be as simple as this video made it seem! I tried to hang in there with this chick explaining it over and over again, but after about twenty more minutes of clearly not doing it right, I decided it was time to see what else YouTube could offer in the way of instruction.
Fast forward an hour and a half....I am STILL looking for a video that I can follow. Every time I start one, I get more and more confused. I thought the casting on part was easy and it turns out that there are like a million different ways to it. I know I am not stupid, but I swear, the more I watch the dumber I feel. I just can't get it right. And by the way, some of the people who think their videos are helping people learn are sorely mistaken! Half of them had the camera so far away that you couldn't see what they were doing and the other half flew through the instructions so that it was nearly impossible to follow.
At this point, my frustration is getting the best of me. It's getting late, I'm tired, and I want to jam these needles into my computer screen. Maybe I need a break. Maybe I need some wine. Yes, wine. That always makes me think more clearly. I am so thankful for that wine tasting class right now because I am stocked up on good wine which is desperately needed as this point.
After a few sips and a half hour channel surfing, I am ready to weed through the crazy that is YouTube and try to find a video that might help me. There has got to be one out there. Maybe I should just look for one that explains casting on. I find several horrible videos that confuse me even more, and then I stumble on one that I think makes sense. I watch it again and again; maybe it is the wine but this is making sense to me. I put down wine and grab my needle and yarn (someone should figure out a way to drink wine while knitting!) and follow the directions of the lovely woman on the screen. I wish I knew her name because she is my new bff; she is explaining it in a way I can understand, I can see her hands and follow what she is doing and mine actually looks right. It's 2:00 am and I finally got the cast on right! Jeez, are you serious with this? Thrilled that I got this first part down, I am anxious to start the first row, but this video only tells you how to cast on. Damn. Oh but wait, YouTube has a handy feature where they recommend some other videos based on what you just watched and I could do a happy dance when I see my new bff featured in a video about knitting the first row. YES! I may actually learn how to do this shit!
I watch this next video and follow her intently. With every stitch I am gaining confidence and getting more excited because it is finally making sense. She uses this stupid rhyme that says "in thru the front door once around the back peek thru the window and off jumps jack" to explain how the stitch works. I keep repeating it, feeling like an ass but it really is helping; I'm doing it! I finish the first row and then I’m not really sure what to do. I am hoping there is a video about how to continue, since she is clearly the best knitting teacher ever. I find one but this one is not nearly as helpful. Her fingers are flying now and the camera isn't close. Plus it starts with both needles in her hands so I have no idea how she got there. I am staring a finally finished row on one needle and have no clue what to do with it. I guess I will go back to the rhyme and hope for the best....In through the front door, once around the back, peek through the window and off jumps jack...in through the front door, once around the back....OH MY GOD, IT'S WORKING!!!
Finished with the second row, I am beaming. I want to call my mom and tell her since she is the one who taught me to crochet, but it's almost 2:30 and my inkling is that she won't be nearly as excited as I am at this hour. I got it, I finally got it. After several hours, a glass of wine and a sore back, I think I got it! Until I get to the end of the third row......
Uh oh. Something is messed up. I have no idea how or why but there is no final stitch for me to go through. Shit. What the hell did I do wrong????
It’s 2:27 and you know what? I don't give a DAMN what I did wrong!! I am cross-eyed sleepy and I can't even thinks straight. I’ll figure it out tomorrow, my new bff isn't going anywhere but right now I’m going to bed!
The funny part is that some of the other things that have been a huge challenge to accomplish are nowhere near as involved as going skydiving! Case in point, I have been actively trying to attend my first knitting class for the past two weeks. The one place in the area that I found gives lessons on Wednesday evenings and Saturday afternoons. So for the past two weeks I have planned to go to class and for many different reasons (no babysitter, bad weather, class cancelled) I have not been able to attend. You would think it would be fairly simple for me to get to a two hour class that is no more than twenty minutes from my house, but the comedy of errors that ensues every time I try to go makes me think that the universe just does not want me at this class. But I really want to learn to knit!! I have been crocheting for the past ten years or so and I love it. I have become a master at making afghans, scarves and hats, but one of my bucket list goals is to knit a sweater. I'm not sure why, I just think it would be really neat to go around wearing a sweater that I made. I don't have a lot of creative ability so if could manage to make something that is actually suitable to be worn in public, I'd feel really good about myself.
Today, once again, I wasn't able to go to the knitting glass so I decided that I would teach myself. I know how to crochet, which I am aware uses a totally different needle, but the manual dexterity from crocheting should help (I hope, I hope!). After a quick trip to Wal-Mart to get some yarn and knitting needles (which I had no idea about so I had to guess at what size would be easiest), I am ready to become a master knitter. So I turn to the best resource I can think of to aid me in my quest: YOUTUBE! Along with the comical, disturbing, and completely ridiculous videos, there are some useful ones too. A quick search of "learn to knit" brought up several videos. The first one was 5 minutes of someone knitting to music with no sort of explanation whatsoever. Seriously, no words. Just bad 70's style porno music playing and the same scenes of someone’s hands knitting. Yeah, that's not even a little bit helpful. But with the second one I hit the jackpot. It was a video of a hip looking 20-something showing you the basics of knitting. I watched it about twelve times before I even picked up yarn and needle. She made it sounds so easy and I could follow the hands on the screen so I figured I would pick this up in no time. I start the video from the beginning pick up my needle, ready to follow her but it seems like she is talking a mile a minute! Seriously, she was NOT talking this fast the other dozen times I watched it. I was lost at trying to tie the slip knot!!!
After about five replays, I got the slip knot down and think I have done the casting on part right, which is how you start any project. Then I move to making my first row and it all goes to shit. I have NO idea what I am doing wrong but it so does not look like what I am seeing on the screen. I keep pulling out the jacked up stitches and starting over but it is just not right. I should have known it would not be as simple as this video made it seem! I tried to hang in there with this chick explaining it over and over again, but after about twenty more minutes of clearly not doing it right, I decided it was time to see what else YouTube could offer in the way of instruction.
Fast forward an hour and a half....I am STILL looking for a video that I can follow. Every time I start one, I get more and more confused. I thought the casting on part was easy and it turns out that there are like a million different ways to it. I know I am not stupid, but I swear, the more I watch the dumber I feel. I just can't get it right. And by the way, some of the people who think their videos are helping people learn are sorely mistaken! Half of them had the camera so far away that you couldn't see what they were doing and the other half flew through the instructions so that it was nearly impossible to follow.
At this point, my frustration is getting the best of me. It's getting late, I'm tired, and I want to jam these needles into my computer screen. Maybe I need a break. Maybe I need some wine. Yes, wine. That always makes me think more clearly. I am so thankful for that wine tasting class right now because I am stocked up on good wine which is desperately needed as this point.
After a few sips and a half hour channel surfing, I am ready to weed through the crazy that is YouTube and try to find a video that might help me. There has got to be one out there. Maybe I should just look for one that explains casting on. I find several horrible videos that confuse me even more, and then I stumble on one that I think makes sense. I watch it again and again; maybe it is the wine but this is making sense to me. I put down wine and grab my needle and yarn (someone should figure out a way to drink wine while knitting!) and follow the directions of the lovely woman on the screen. I wish I knew her name because she is my new bff; she is explaining it in a way I can understand, I can see her hands and follow what she is doing and mine actually looks right. It's 2:00 am and I finally got the cast on right! Jeez, are you serious with this? Thrilled that I got this first part down, I am anxious to start the first row, but this video only tells you how to cast on. Damn. Oh but wait, YouTube has a handy feature where they recommend some other videos based on what you just watched and I could do a happy dance when I see my new bff featured in a video about knitting the first row. YES! I may actually learn how to do this shit!
I watch this next video and follow her intently. With every stitch I am gaining confidence and getting more excited because it is finally making sense. She uses this stupid rhyme that says "in thru the front door once around the back peek thru the window and off jumps jack" to explain how the stitch works. I keep repeating it, feeling like an ass but it really is helping; I'm doing it! I finish the first row and then I’m not really sure what to do. I am hoping there is a video about how to continue, since she is clearly the best knitting teacher ever. I find one but this one is not nearly as helpful. Her fingers are flying now and the camera isn't close. Plus it starts with both needles in her hands so I have no idea how she got there. I am staring a finally finished row on one needle and have no clue what to do with it. I guess I will go back to the rhyme and hope for the best....In through the front door, once around the back, peek through the window and off jumps jack...in through the front door, once around the back....OH MY GOD, IT'S WORKING!!!
Finished with the second row, I am beaming. I want to call my mom and tell her since she is the one who taught me to crochet, but it's almost 2:30 and my inkling is that she won't be nearly as excited as I am at this hour. I got it, I finally got it. After several hours, a glass of wine and a sore back, I think I got it! Until I get to the end of the third row......
Uh oh. Something is messed up. I have no idea how or why but there is no final stitch for me to go through. Shit. What the hell did I do wrong????
It’s 2:27 and you know what? I don't give a DAMN what I did wrong!! I am cross-eyed sleepy and I can't even thinks straight. I’ll figure it out tomorrow, my new bff isn't going anywhere but right now I’m going to bed!Who said I had to master this shit today, anyway?!
P.S. If you get in the mood to torture yourself, here are the links to the videos that (kinda) taught me how to knit
Friday, January 29, 2010
But I wanna be a wino too! - Day 26 of 35 days to 35
To say that I have a very discriminating pallet would be a gross understatement. I am an obviously picky eater, completely and irritatingly finicky. I basically have the taste buds of a twelve year old: tacos with only meat and cheese, burger with only ketchup, mustard and pickles and, most importantly, anything and everything sweet. Cake rules my world, as does pretty much any fruit flavored candy. It is a bit embarrassing not to have sophisticated taste and I have really tried to rush the evolution process but to no avail. I have gotten better at trying things, but you can pretty much bet that if it isn't sweet, I'm probably gonna hate it.
Through the years I have (thankfully) graduated from the ridiculously fruity drinks to the only somewhat ridiculous fruity drinks. But I really wanted to be a wine drinker. There is something so cool and grown up about sipping on a nice Chardonnay or Merlot. Very sophisticated, very classy, very un-amaretto sour! By my late twenties it was getting a little embarrassing to be the only one at the dinner table not sharing the bottle of wine and ordering the typical college girl drink. So I set out on a mission to find a wine that I could like, or at least grow to like. There had to be a sweet wine out there somewhere right?
It didn't take very long for me to veto red wine. I tried several but always ended up feeling like I had just licked a cat and the fur was now stuck to my tongue. I am not a red wine girl. So I moved on to the whites, and after several dinners of nursing one glass of Chardonnay or Pinot Grigio that I really didn't like but pretended to love, I finally stumbled on my wine soul mate: Riesling! Ah, reisling, my sweet, sweet reisling. Finally I would be able to have dinner and not whisper my drink order embarrassingly to the waiter and hope no one noticed. Finally I could join in conversations about this or that wine and when I talked about one I loved I wouldn't be lying. And finally I could have one of those nights with just me, a bottle of wine and a great chick flick. I WAS FINALLY IN THE WINE CLUB!
So I've spent the past few years happily enjoying my wine and not caring that most people I know don't like riesling for the very same reason that I love it: too sweet. But I don't care! It doesn't bother me that I'm still not cool enough to share a bottle of wine with my dinner mates because they all drink "real" wine and I drink the sweet stuff. Okay, it does bother me a little. I would like to be able to drink and enjoy more than one type of wine (because did you know some places don't have a riesling on the menu?? THE NERVE!), to broaden my horizons a little. I had eased my way into the world of wine with the sweet stuff and now it was time to move on....
I decided that a wine tasting class might be a good way to expose me to other wines and possibly find one that I did not find repulsive. I really wanted to find a red wine that I could at least tolerate and at best love, so that I could really say I am a wine drinker. There is a fabulous store across the river in Newport, KY called Party Source. It has just about every alcohol you can think of and probably some you can't. Anything, and I mean anything you might need for a party you can find here. They are even so fabulous that they host cooking and wine classes (I had no idea, yay!) and I found the perfect one for me: Girls Night Out: A Guide to Tasting, Ordering, Pairing (and Drinking!) Wine. So not only am I going to get to drink a bunch of different wines, but as a bonus I will learn what wine is supposed to go with what food. Fabulous! It's kind of like a gift with purchase. So hopefully I will leave the class learning enough to sound like a real wine drinker, or at least be able to fake it really well.
The Friday of the wine tasting arrives, and as it happens, none of my friends are able to join me. Uh oh. Now we've already discussed my well established policy of not really doing things by myself, so my first inclination was to stay my ass right at home. But then I wouldn't have a "thing" for Friday....and I really kinda wanted to go. I hear this voice in my head (I think it might have been Charlene) saying "Come on Darlene, it's not that big of a deal. Put on your big girl panties, suck it up and go! It's free wine you idiot, GO, GO GO!" The voice wins. On the drive over, I talk myself into believing that there will HAVE to be another woman there alone so I will just sit by her and make friends. I'm a good talker, I can pull even the most bashful people out of their shells, so I am fairly confident that if I can just find a fellow loser-with-no-friends-so-I-had-to-come-solo, , I'll be just fine.
I arrive at Party Source and I am not really sure where to go. I see what looks like a really nice kitchen area and some high bar tables so I head that way. I am not sure I am going the right way but as I approach the woman standing behind a podium says "Are you here for Girls Night Out?"
"Yep".
As she is explaining the check in process, I look over her shoulder and am happy to see that I am one of the first people there. She gives me a nametag and says that since I am by myself, she wants me to sit at the counter, right in the front to save tables for groups. Thanks, lady, just keep pouring that salt in my wound.
I look at the counter and see that there is another woman who looks to be alone so I take a seat beside her. There is a place setting in front of me with grapes and cheeses and a big ol basket of yummy looking bread. Ooooooh, do you think we might get food too??? Also on the counter are a bunch of wine glasses filled with things like pears, berries, butter, chocolate and something that looks like sticks. This should be really interesting.
Okay, time to make a friend for the night. I turn to the woman next to me and start making small talk about the glasses with the food in them. We get caught up in conversation and soon the class is about to start. I realize that someone has taken a seat on the other side of me and she looks to be alone as well. I want to make sure she knows she is not alone in this whole solo thing so I turn to say hi and introduce myself. I look down at her name tag and her name is Darlene. I NEVER meet other Darlenes! How random is that? Must be a sign that this will be a good night.
The workshop gets started and our wine professional (whose name I forgot, of course), starts explaining to us that we will taste six different wines (not ONE riesling! Damn!) and have an appetizer to go with each so that we can experience each pairing. Fabulous! Wine AND food! He begins by talking about the difference between light and heavy wines and how to tell the difference. We get a groovy little chart that tells you which wine you should eat with which meats and then they begin passing around our first wine sample. He explains that the glasses with the random foods in them are to help us identify what flavors are in the wine and how to better tell if they are heavy or light. He passed out a glass of lemons and a glass of butter. Yes, butter. He talked about how the Chardonnay we would be drinking was buttery but with a hint of citrus. Okay.....
I smell the wine first and am not sure I am buying what he's selling but then I taste it and I think I can actually pick out the flavors he's talking about. I concede that it could have been the power of suggestion, but I felt like a real wine connoisseur! With every different wine, he passed around different glasses with different smells and, I gotta say, it was pretty cool. And even though I was not completely crazy about any of the first five wines, I drank my sample (that was definitely peer pressure! I didn't want to be the only one without an empty glass!). By the time we got to the fourth wine, I am thinking that we are all gonna be sloshed by the time this thing is over! I use this as an excuse not to finish my samples of the red wines we tasted. I have to admit, they were not as bad as I remembered and did not leave the filmy cat fur feeling in my mouth, but they were still not something I would order by choice (maybe the Pinot Noir if I was forced but I'd be bitter about it). I was proud of myself though; I took real tastes of the wine, not my usual baby sips that barely get your tongue wet.
Then we got to the best part of the night. The last wine was a Moscato Spumante. I was a little familiar with moscato because it is even sweeter than riesling, if you can believe that. And this particular wine was like heaven in a bottle: yummy moscato plus the bubbly goodness of champagne. It took a great deal of restraint not to guzzle my glass and dive across the counter to commandeer the rest of the bottle. All I could think was this little beauty will be the drink of the day on my birthday. It’s really like a party in a bottle so what could be more appropriate?! NOW I have a reason to look forward to turning 35!
As the class was ending, we were reminded that we would receive an extra 5% off of anything we wanted to buy tonight...so of course it was only right to get a bottle (or five) of the Moscato Spumante for my birthday. I mean, it was on sale, right? As I make my way out of my new favorite store with my case of wine (okay really, did you think I was gonna miss a chance to stock up?) I am so glad I followed the little voice in my head. Life's just too short not to put on your big girl panties and just go for it!
This really didn't become an issue until I was introduced to alcohol (when I was of legal age, of course!). There is really nothing sweet about alcohol. Beer is skunky and stinky and so not passing these lips, and most liquor is just STRONG!! So while all of my friends were enjoying dollar draft nights I was ordering $5 amaretto sours.....you can see why I didn't drink very much in college! Oh I tried other drinks....we won't discuss my adventures with Mad Dog 20/20 or the short lived but intense relationship with Boones Farm (Strawberry Hill, of course), but nothing did it for me. I could never get past the burning in my chest, the intense taste, and the fact that alcohol just wasn't freakin sweet. So I spent years sipping the ultimate girly drink and being pissed that I was spending so much more than my friends every time we went out.
It didn't take very long for me to veto red wine. I tried several but always ended up feeling like I had just licked a cat and the fur was now stuck to my tongue. I am not a red wine girl. So I moved on to the whites, and after several dinners of nursing one glass of Chardonnay or Pinot Grigio that I really didn't like but pretended to love, I finally stumbled on my wine soul mate: Riesling! Ah, reisling, my sweet, sweet reisling. Finally I would be able to have dinner and not whisper my drink order embarrassingly to the waiter and hope no one noticed. Finally I could join in conversations about this or that wine and when I talked about one I loved I wouldn't be lying. And finally I could have one of those nights with just me, a bottle of wine and a great chick flick. I WAS FINALLY IN THE WINE CLUB!
So I've spent the past few years happily enjoying my wine and not caring that most people I know don't like riesling for the very same reason that I love it: too sweet. But I don't care! It doesn't bother me that I'm still not cool enough to share a bottle of wine with my dinner mates because they all drink "real" wine and I drink the sweet stuff. Okay, it does bother me a little. I would like to be able to drink and enjoy more than one type of wine (because did you know some places don't have a riesling on the menu?? THE NERVE!), to broaden my horizons a little. I had eased my way into the world of wine with the sweet stuff and now it was time to move on....
I decided that a wine tasting class might be a good way to expose me to other wines and possibly find one that I did not find repulsive. I really wanted to find a red wine that I could at least tolerate and at best love, so that I could really say I am a wine drinker. There is a fabulous store across the river in Newport, KY called Party Source. It has just about every alcohol you can think of and probably some you can't. Anything, and I mean anything you might need for a party you can find here. They are even so fabulous that they host cooking and wine classes (I had no idea, yay!) and I found the perfect one for me: Girls Night Out: A Guide to Tasting, Ordering, Pairing (and Drinking!) Wine. So not only am I going to get to drink a bunch of different wines, but as a bonus I will learn what wine is supposed to go with what food. Fabulous! It's kind of like a gift with purchase. So hopefully I will leave the class learning enough to sound like a real wine drinker, or at least be able to fake it really well.
The Friday of the wine tasting arrives, and as it happens, none of my friends are able to join me. Uh oh. Now we've already discussed my well established policy of not really doing things by myself, so my first inclination was to stay my ass right at home. But then I wouldn't have a "thing" for Friday....and I really kinda wanted to go. I hear this voice in my head (I think it might have been Charlene) saying "Come on Darlene, it's not that big of a deal. Put on your big girl panties, suck it up and go! It's free wine you idiot, GO, GO GO!" The voice wins. On the drive over, I talk myself into believing that there will HAVE to be another woman there alone so I will just sit by her and make friends. I'm a good talker, I can pull even the most bashful people out of their shells, so I am fairly confident that if I can just find a fellow loser-with-no-friends-so-I-had-to-come-solo, , I'll be just fine.
I arrive at Party Source and I am not really sure where to go. I see what looks like a really nice kitchen area and some high bar tables so I head that way. I am not sure I am going the right way but as I approach the woman standing behind a podium says "Are you here for Girls Night Out?"
"Yep".
As she is explaining the check in process, I look over her shoulder and am happy to see that I am one of the first people there. She gives me a nametag and says that since I am by myself, she wants me to sit at the counter, right in the front to save tables for groups. Thanks, lady, just keep pouring that salt in my wound.
I look at the counter and see that there is another woman who looks to be alone so I take a seat beside her. There is a place setting in front of me with grapes and cheeses and a big ol basket of yummy looking bread. Ooooooh, do you think we might get food too??? Also on the counter are a bunch of wine glasses filled with things like pears, berries, butter, chocolate and something that looks like sticks. This should be really interesting.
Okay, time to make a friend for the night. I turn to the woman next to me and start making small talk about the glasses with the food in them. We get caught up in conversation and soon the class is about to start. I realize that someone has taken a seat on the other side of me and she looks to be alone as well. I want to make sure she knows she is not alone in this whole solo thing so I turn to say hi and introduce myself. I look down at her name tag and her name is Darlene. I NEVER meet other Darlenes! How random is that? Must be a sign that this will be a good night.
The workshop gets started and our wine professional (whose name I forgot, of course), starts explaining to us that we will taste six different wines (not ONE riesling! Damn!) and have an appetizer to go with each so that we can experience each pairing. Fabulous! Wine AND food! He begins by talking about the difference between light and heavy wines and how to tell the difference. We get a groovy little chart that tells you which wine you should eat with which meats and then they begin passing around our first wine sample. He explains that the glasses with the random foods in them are to help us identify what flavors are in the wine and how to better tell if they are heavy or light. He passed out a glass of lemons and a glass of butter. Yes, butter. He talked about how the Chardonnay we would be drinking was buttery but with a hint of citrus. Okay.....
I smell the wine first and am not sure I am buying what he's selling but then I taste it and I think I can actually pick out the flavors he's talking about. I concede that it could have been the power of suggestion, but I felt like a real wine connoisseur! With every different wine, he passed around different glasses with different smells and, I gotta say, it was pretty cool. And even though I was not completely crazy about any of the first five wines, I drank my sample (that was definitely peer pressure! I didn't want to be the only one without an empty glass!). By the time we got to the fourth wine, I am thinking that we are all gonna be sloshed by the time this thing is over! I use this as an excuse not to finish my samples of the red wines we tasted. I have to admit, they were not as bad as I remembered and did not leave the filmy cat fur feeling in my mouth, but they were still not something I would order by choice (maybe the Pinot Noir if I was forced but I'd be bitter about it). I was proud of myself though; I took real tastes of the wine, not my usual baby sips that barely get your tongue wet.
Then we got to the best part of the night. The last wine was a Moscato Spumante. I was a little familiar with moscato because it is even sweeter than riesling, if you can believe that. And this particular wine was like heaven in a bottle: yummy moscato plus the bubbly goodness of champagne. It took a great deal of restraint not to guzzle my glass and dive across the counter to commandeer the rest of the bottle. All I could think was this little beauty will be the drink of the day on my birthday. It’s really like a party in a bottle so what could be more appropriate?! NOW I have a reason to look forward to turning 35!
As the class was ending, we were reminded that we would receive an extra 5% off of anything we wanted to buy tonight...so of course it was only right to get a bottle (or five) of the Moscato Spumante for my birthday. I mean, it was on sale, right? As I make my way out of my new favorite store with my case of wine (okay really, did you think I was gonna miss a chance to stock up?) I am so glad I followed the little voice in my head. Life's just too short not to put on your big girl panties and just go for it!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
It's not as easy as it looks! - Day 25 of 35 days to 35
My older sister was the coolest person I knew. Everything about her was cool, her clothes, her hair, her friends and especially her car. She had a cute little Subaru Sports Coupe and to me it was like a race car. She drove it with such authority and every time I saw her shift those gears, I was in awe. I had to learn to drive a stick.
When it came time for me to learn to drive, I could hardly contain my excitement. My dad was the designated driving teacher in the family, well actually in the neighborhood. Along with teaching my sister, he taught just about every other teenager in our neighborhood to drive a stick. They all loved him and made it look so easy that I just knew I would be driving like a champ in no time. What I didn't know, or rather what Pam neglected to tell me, is that Dad was a great teacher for everyone BUT her. He had patience for days with everyone else but Pam had about two chances to get it right before he started yelling. Apparently there were lots of tears involved. But she learned, and dammit, I would too.
Here's the problem. I didn't know the first thing about driving so not only was I trying to master the stick shift, but I was trying to figure out the basics of driving as well. This is not a good combination. A good rule of thumb in just about everything is to learn the basics before you get fancy. That would have been helpful here. Instead you have me, behind the wheel of my mom's BMW (Pam had moved out and it was the only stick shift in the house. I know what you're thinking and yes it kicked the anxiety level up about a thousand notches), stalling repeatedly and try not to hit anything when I finally did get going. There were tears. Lots and lots of tears. And then the check engine light came on in Mom's car. All of a sudden Mom and Dad didn't think it was necessary for me to learn to drive a stick, and automatic would be just fine. Imagine that.
So I never learned how to drive a stick and for a long time felt like I wasn't "really" driving. I wanted to drive with authority, to shift those gears like I owned the world and would run over anything that got in my way. And even though now you would be hard pressed to find a stick shift, I am still itching to learn. I will not turn 35 and not have this skill under my belt.
First things first: where the hell do I find a stick shift to drive? I call a few rental car companies only to learn that most of them don't have any stick shifts available. I didn't really want to ask anyone I knew to borrow their car because all I could see was that bright red CHECK ENGINE light in my mom's car after only one or two times with me behind the wheel and I did not want to be responsible for that again. But I was all out of other ideas. Leave it to Facebook to hook me up with generous friends willing to let me murder drive their cars and were even willing to teach me! I have such cool friends.
I decided to take Jaime up on her offer of driving lessons because she is one of the most laid back people I know so I figured she would not try to beat my ass if I really did kill her car. She said there was a parking lot not far from her house that would work great...nothing and no one for me to run over. Perfect. We arranged to meet on Thursday after I finished teaching and I had planned to let my class out a little early since I would be driving to the other side of town.
So, of course, my class picks today to actually participate in a discussion, so I end up leaving campus much later than I intended. I race to the sitter to pick Sammi up and call Jaime to tell her we should be there in about 20 minutes. But I forgot it's rush hour. I. HATE. RUSH HOUR. I just can't deal. The older I get, the less patience I have for traffic and I am in the thick of it. I we are inching down I-75 and I am yelling at cars to get out of my way. It doesn't help. We finally make it to the parking lot where Jaime is waiting and I immediately get nervous. Shit. Her car is nice. I was so hoping it was a beater because I have had nightmares of leaving her transmission in the middle of the road. I don't wanna break her car. My mom always told me not to play with things that I couldn't afford to replace and a car is so not in my budget right now. Please God don't let me kill her car!
I get Sammi settled in the back of Jaime's car with Aladdin playing on her portable DVD player and we are ready to roll. I'm all ready to jump in the driver's seat but Jaime goes to that side and gets in. Okay, I guess some preparation is needed. She begins by explaining where the different gears are located on the gearshift, and the importance of the clutch. I was somewhat familiar with the basics because of Dad's lessons from hell, but the refresher was definitely helpful. She drives around the practice route we are going to take, trying to get me to hear the car "tell me when it's time to shift". Uh, okay. She tries to explain that as I ease off the clutch, I should be able to feel when to give the car gas. And when in doubt, step on the clutch. Sounds easy enough.
I'm finally behind the wheel and anxious to try it out, but am immediately discouraged when I can't manage to put the car in first gear. Good thing Jaime told me to practice shifting before I actually started trying to drive the damn thing. I finally find first, struggle my way to second, completely miss third and muscle it into fourth. I silently thank God for Disney and portable DVD players because it is clearly going to be a long night.
Go time is here...I ease off the clutch and onto the gas and pull away as smoothly as if I were driving my own car. This should have been a good thing, but I could feel my head swelling and couldn't help but think "I got this. This is gonna be the fastest stick-driving lesson in history". I cruise around the parking lot, feeling all good, and like I am ready to hit the highway. I ease to a stop and turn the car off so I can do it again and impress Jaime with my ability to pick this up so quickly. I turn the key in the ignition and nothing. The lights come on, the radio comes on but the car is not starting. I turn it again...nothing. Again. Nothing. SHIT! I KILLED HER CAR!!! And it's only been like five minutes. Jaime seems unphased but I am freaking out.
"Maybe you aren't pushing in the clutch?" she says.
"BUT I AM!! I AM! I'm so sorry, I killed your car. Oh God, I killed your car".
I jam my left foot down as hard as I can and turn the key and the car roars to life.
Oops. Guess I wasn't pushing the clutch down far enough. I'll make a note of that.
With the start up issue solved, it's time to really go for a spin. I stall. Then I make the car sputter and jerk then stall again.
"Mommy! What are you DOING?" Sammi laughs.
Seriously, the backseat driver thing...so not cute right now.
I finally get the car going again, and once I am driving everything is cool. I CAN feel the car tell me when it's time to shift and I feel so cool, like I am really driving. I make a few more circles around the parking lot, to build my confidence and then I feel like I'm ready to take it to the streets. I pull to the end of the parking lot and get ready to turn. Clearly I am going to need a huge break in traffic (just in case) so I sit there for a while waiting until I can't see any cars. It takes a minute. I jerkily (is that even a word?) pull out onto the street and get the car going so I can hit third gear (which I did find, thank you very much!). I'M DRIVING A STICK! HOW COOL AM I RIGHT NOW! I turn into one of the neighborhoods to get some good starting a stopping practice. I pretty much have the driving and stopping parts down. I even manage to downshift like a pro, but the starts need work. I just can't seem to get the feel of letting up on the clutch...I should probably buy Jamie new tires because I'm sure I burned most of the rubber on them in that neighborhood. I either stall or screech away like a bat out of hell.
It is driving me crazy that I can't get this whole clutch thing down, and then it hits me. First of all, I have only ever driven automatics, so my left leg is just used to chillin' when we're in the car. It's not really prepared to get into the action; it has no idea what to do. Not only that, I am asking it to do something that I have spent twenty years trying NOT to do....slam down a pedal in a car. So it's no wonder I'm having a little bit of trouble!
Jaime is a great cheerleader and wonderful teacher. She only laughs a little when I stall multiple times in a row and is so excited when I actually get a good start. Thank God she had her seatbelt on or I might have thrown her through the windshield with one of my terrible starts, but she acted as if she rode with horrendously bad drivers all the time. If it were me in that seat, I would have probably had a panic attack the first time I heard the gears grinding. But she just keeps encouraging me and making me feel like I am getting the hang of it and I start to believe her (Dad could learn a thing or two from Jaime!). I drive around a little while longer with Sammi chiming in every time there is a little jerkiness (MOM! What are you DOING up there?!). But I'm getting better and by the end of an hour, I am feeling like I if push came to shove, I could drive a stick and manage to not kill anyone.
Best part about it...I didn't hit anything and the transmission was still INSIDE Jaime's car. It was a good day.
When it came time for me to learn to drive, I could hardly contain my excitement. My dad was the designated driving teacher in the family, well actually in the neighborhood. Along with teaching my sister, he taught just about every other teenager in our neighborhood to drive a stick. They all loved him and made it look so easy that I just knew I would be driving like a champ in no time. What I didn't know, or rather what Pam neglected to tell me, is that Dad was a great teacher for everyone BUT her. He had patience for days with everyone else but Pam had about two chances to get it right before he started yelling. Apparently there were lots of tears involved. But she learned, and dammit, I would too.
Here's the problem. I didn't know the first thing about driving so not only was I trying to master the stick shift, but I was trying to figure out the basics of driving as well. This is not a good combination. A good rule of thumb in just about everything is to learn the basics before you get fancy. That would have been helpful here. Instead you have me, behind the wheel of my mom's BMW (Pam had moved out and it was the only stick shift in the house. I know what you're thinking and yes it kicked the anxiety level up about a thousand notches), stalling repeatedly and try not to hit anything when I finally did get going. There were tears. Lots and lots of tears. And then the check engine light came on in Mom's car. All of a sudden Mom and Dad didn't think it was necessary for me to learn to drive a stick, and automatic would be just fine. Imagine that.
So I never learned how to drive a stick and for a long time felt like I wasn't "really" driving. I wanted to drive with authority, to shift those gears like I owned the world and would run over anything that got in my way. And even though now you would be hard pressed to find a stick shift, I am still itching to learn. I will not turn 35 and not have this skill under my belt.
First things first: where the hell do I find a stick shift to drive? I call a few rental car companies only to learn that most of them don't have any stick shifts available. I didn't really want to ask anyone I knew to borrow their car because all I could see was that bright red CHECK ENGINE light in my mom's car after only one or two times with me behind the wheel and I did not want to be responsible for that again. But I was all out of other ideas. Leave it to Facebook to hook me up with generous friends willing to let me murder drive their cars and were even willing to teach me! I have such cool friends.
I decided to take Jaime up on her offer of driving lessons because she is one of the most laid back people I know so I figured she would not try to beat my ass if I really did kill her car. She said there was a parking lot not far from her house that would work great...nothing and no one for me to run over. Perfect. We arranged to meet on Thursday after I finished teaching and I had planned to let my class out a little early since I would be driving to the other side of town.
So, of course, my class picks today to actually participate in a discussion, so I end up leaving campus much later than I intended. I race to the sitter to pick Sammi up and call Jaime to tell her we should be there in about 20 minutes. But I forgot it's rush hour. I. HATE. RUSH HOUR. I just can't deal. The older I get, the less patience I have for traffic and I am in the thick of it. I we are inching down I-75 and I am yelling at cars to get out of my way. It doesn't help. We finally make it to the parking lot where Jaime is waiting and I immediately get nervous. Shit. Her car is nice. I was so hoping it was a beater because I have had nightmares of leaving her transmission in the middle of the road. I don't wanna break her car. My mom always told me not to play with things that I couldn't afford to replace and a car is so not in my budget right now. Please God don't let me kill her car!
I get Sammi settled in the back of Jaime's car with Aladdin playing on her portable DVD player and we are ready to roll. I'm all ready to jump in the driver's seat but Jaime goes to that side and gets in. Okay, I guess some preparation is needed. She begins by explaining where the different gears are located on the gearshift, and the importance of the clutch. I was somewhat familiar with the basics because of Dad's lessons from hell, but the refresher was definitely helpful. She drives around the practice route we are going to take, trying to get me to hear the car "tell me when it's time to shift". Uh, okay. She tries to explain that as I ease off the clutch, I should be able to feel when to give the car gas. And when in doubt, step on the clutch. Sounds easy enough.
I'm finally behind the wheel and anxious to try it out, but am immediately discouraged when I can't manage to put the car in first gear. Good thing Jaime told me to practice shifting before I actually started trying to drive the damn thing. I finally find first, struggle my way to second, completely miss third and muscle it into fourth. I silently thank God for Disney and portable DVD players because it is clearly going to be a long night.
Go time is here...I ease off the clutch and onto the gas and pull away as smoothly as if I were driving my own car. This should have been a good thing, but I could feel my head swelling and couldn't help but think "I got this. This is gonna be the fastest stick-driving lesson in history". I cruise around the parking lot, feeling all good, and like I am ready to hit the highway. I ease to a stop and turn the car off so I can do it again and impress Jaime with my ability to pick this up so quickly. I turn the key in the ignition and nothing. The lights come on, the radio comes on but the car is not starting. I turn it again...nothing. Again. Nothing. SHIT! I KILLED HER CAR!!! And it's only been like five minutes. Jaime seems unphased but I am freaking out.
"Maybe you aren't pushing in the clutch?" she says.
"BUT I AM!! I AM! I'm so sorry, I killed your car. Oh God, I killed your car".
I jam my left foot down as hard as I can and turn the key and the car roars to life.
Oops. Guess I wasn't pushing the clutch down far enough. I'll make a note of that.
With the start up issue solved, it's time to really go for a spin. I stall. Then I make the car sputter and jerk then stall again.
"Mommy! What are you DOING?" Sammi laughs.
Seriously, the backseat driver thing...so not cute right now.
I finally get the car going again, and once I am driving everything is cool. I CAN feel the car tell me when it's time to shift and I feel so cool, like I am really driving. I make a few more circles around the parking lot, to build my confidence and then I feel like I'm ready to take it to the streets. I pull to the end of the parking lot and get ready to turn. Clearly I am going to need a huge break in traffic (just in case) so I sit there for a while waiting until I can't see any cars. It takes a minute. I jerkily (is that even a word?) pull out onto the street and get the car going so I can hit third gear (which I did find, thank you very much!). I'M DRIVING A STICK! HOW COOL AM I RIGHT NOW! I turn into one of the neighborhoods to get some good starting a stopping practice. I pretty much have the driving and stopping parts down. I even manage to downshift like a pro, but the starts need work. I just can't seem to get the feel of letting up on the clutch...I should probably buy Jamie new tires because I'm sure I burned most of the rubber on them in that neighborhood. I either stall or screech away like a bat out of hell.
It is driving me crazy that I can't get this whole clutch thing down, and then it hits me. First of all, I have only ever driven automatics, so my left leg is just used to chillin' when we're in the car. It's not really prepared to get into the action; it has no idea what to do. Not only that, I am asking it to do something that I have spent twenty years trying NOT to do....slam down a pedal in a car. So it's no wonder I'm having a little bit of trouble!
Jaime is a great cheerleader and wonderful teacher. She only laughs a little when I stall multiple times in a row and is so excited when I actually get a good start. Thank God she had her seatbelt on or I might have thrown her through the windshield with one of my terrible starts, but she acted as if she rode with horrendously bad drivers all the time. If it were me in that seat, I would have probably had a panic attack the first time I heard the gears grinding. But she just keeps encouraging me and making me feel like I am getting the hang of it and I start to believe her (Dad could learn a thing or two from Jaime!). I drive around a little while longer with Sammi chiming in every time there is a little jerkiness (MOM! What are you DOING up there?!). But I'm getting better and by the end of an hour, I am feeling like I if push came to shove, I could drive a stick and manage to not kill anyone.
Best part about it...I didn't hit anything and the transmission was still INSIDE Jaime's car. It was a good day.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
A little taste of home - Day 24 of 35 days to 35
I'm an Alaska girl. Within minutes of meeting me, I somehow work into the conversation that I am from the best state ever. Technically, I was born in Miami, but my family moved to Alaska when I was three, so it's the only home I know. I love everything that is Alaska, everything it represents: the snow, moose in your front yard, the Fur Rendezvous, 300 lb cabbages, all of it. I think there is something really unique about people who call Alaska home; you never really leave it and it never really leaves you. Plus the look on people's faces when you say you're from there (especially when you're black!) is priceless!
So loving the cold and all that is cold related, one would think that I would be a rabid hockey fan. After all, I love ice skating; there was a time when I just knew I would be bringing home Olympic figure skating gold to The Last Frontier. But figure skating was as far as it went with me. Sure I had tons of friends who played hockey, even some girls, but it never really piqued my interest. I never learned the rules and I didn't understand how in the hell you were supposed to get going on hockey skates with no toe pick. Seriously! The one time I tried to learn hockey, I was on my ass five times in five minutes. No one told me there was no toe pick. No one told me that because there is no toe pick when you try to push off like you would in figure skates you topple forward in a graceless heap. So after my fifth and final fall, I promptly decided that hockey sucked.
I managed to make it through most of my teenage years without going to a hockey game. Even when I dated a hockey player, I somehow maneuvered my way around actually going to his games. I would hang out at Ben Boeke Ice Arena with all of the other hockey girlfriends, but there was no game watching going on. Oh I pretended to love hockey like a good little Alaskan (I got a UAA hockey jersey and everything!) but I prayed that no one would try to engage me in hockey speak because the jig would be up. When having a crush on a UAA hockey player and wearing a pin with is face on it on your jean jacket was "the thing" to do, I went along wholeheartedly, even though I couldn't tell you what the center does or what all of the lines on the ice mean. I realize now that my hockey ignorance is kind of taking away from my credibility as a real Alaska girl so I am on a mission to embrace this game.
I unfortunately do not live in a city that hosts a major league hockey team, so I am going to have to settle for going to a Cincinnati Cyclones game as my first hockey experience. They are a local minor league hockey team, so I think that qualifies as professional hockey, no? I have heard these games are a blast so it should be pretty fun. I wanted to enlist a few people to go with me, so I chose to go on dollar beer night, figuring someone might be enticed enough by that to tag along. Jaime, Lisa and Jodi all agreed to make my maiden hockey voyage with me so I was set.
Jody and I arrived at the game with the plan of meeting Jaime and Lisa at US Bank Arena. Typically, being the somewhat anal planner that I am, I would (gently) insist that we all ride together so that there is no confusion, but I am trying to be more laid back in 2010 so I refrained. I am terminally early for things, so Jody and I were parked and headed to the arena at 6:45 even though the game did not start until 7:30. We approach the ticket counter and this guy who had just got tickets with his son offered us two free tickets. Jody and I exchange glances, immediately suspicious, but the man insists we take them and says we can trade them for different seats. I figure we should take them...maybe it's a good omen for the evening. We exchange the two free tickets and purchase two more so the four of us can sit together, then head inside to wait for Jaime and Lisa. For the record, hockey games are a great place to people watch! We saw a little bit of everything, including a guy with a puck hat...I am not really sure if my description would do it justice. Picture a foam hockey puck about the size of a platter. Then picture said puck on the head of a grown - ass man. Now you see the comedy.
At about 7:15, I am beginning to get a little antsy. Then I get a text from Jaime saying they finally made it and are in the building but don't see us. I told her we were by the main entrance and that we had the tickets. A few more minutes pass...no Jaime. The music is beginning to pump up in the arena and from where we are standing I can see on the Jumbotron that they are making the player introductions. I am not sure what to do at this point. I call Jaime, but her cell phone is going to voicemail. Crap. At this point we have two choices...go in and hope that she calls when they get to the door or wait. We wait. I can't bring myself to go in even though I am dying to see the faceoff (isn't that what it's called?). Jodi tells me to go in so I can see it and she'll wait for them. I'm torn but rush past the ticket taker and into the arena in time to see the one of the Cyclones skating away with the puck. Oops. Missed it.
I go back out to where Jodi is standing and try to call Jaime again. Voicemail. Crap crap. Jodi and I are trying to figure out what to do when a roar erupts from the crowd, a ridiculously loud horn goes off and the announcer screams "GOAL!" Jodi and I look at each other and burst out laughing. Seriously. It would have to be at the game I go to that they score like two minutes in. That never happens! Never!
Now I am really not sure what to do! I decide to walk to the other entrance (though they wouldn't have been able to get in there without their tickets, which I have) but they are not there either. I just don't know what to do. I can see Jodi and I walking into the game just as they get to the entrance and we completely miss each other. I try to call again but it goes straight to voicemail. Crap crap crap.
I head back to Jodi, still not sure what to do when out of the corner of my eye I spy the answer to at least one of my problems....an open bar! I don't drink beer so the dollar beer special did nothing for me, but the bar has a Smirnoff Ice with my name on it. Now I can at least keep my anxiety at bay! Drink in hand, I find Jodi and ask her what she thinks we should do.'
Roar of the crowd. Ridiculously loud horn. "GOAL!"
Are you kidding me??? Are you freakin kidding me?
Needless to say, we decided to go in. We grab Jodi a beer and try to find our section. We got great tickets in the lower level, row K, right at center ice, but we decide to sit in the first row of the upper level anyway. We could still see everything and we didn't have to crawl over a bunch of what I can only assume given the promotional beer rate, are drunk or almost drunk rowdy fans. I feel terrible about not being able to find Jaime and Lisa. I keep my phone in my lap hoping that they will call and say that they are here and that we just somehow missed them.
I am trying to take in the scenery of my very first hockey experience and one thing jumps out at me. There are a lot of men here. A LOT of men. The combination of testosterone and cheap beer give the arena a buzz unlike any sporting event I've ever been to. I feel like at any moment guys are gonna start pounding on each other... I love it!
I am trying to follow the action of the game, but I have to admit I am kind of lost. The puck is much easier to follow in person though, thank goodness. I was worried it would be like my attempts to watch NHL and being confused because I never knew where the damn puck was! But this was cool. And these guys can really skate! I am mesmerized by their footwork, it's amazing. And then there is the checking. Now seriously, that's what I came to see. How great is a sport where you can smash someone hard as hell against a wall and it's not against the rules?! And they let you fight!! I was praying I would get to see a good hockey fight but the checking was pretty awesome too.
By the start of the second period I am pretty into the game. Then my phone finally beeps with a text. JAIME!! She says they must have missed us and ended up buying tickets and coming in. I can't figure out how we missed them! We were standing right inside the main entrance, and honestly, there were not a lot of black women there. Especially ones wearing a huge hockey jersey with the word Alaska across the front! But somehow they slipped past us and were seated in the section right in front of us! I look down to section 132 and immediately spot them. Hilarious! I send a text back telling them where we are and they come up to join us. Given how few people are at this game, it is complete comedy that we somehow missed each other totally.
We spend the rest of the game drinking dollar beers (well they do, I stick with my $6.50 Smirnoff Ices and try not to think about the fact that in the real world I could buy a six pack for the price of one here), snacking on junk and laughing at the increasingly drunk idiots around us. It was a great time. And they scored twice more so I wasn't bitter anymore about missing the first two goals. AND I GOT TO SEE A FIGHT! Number 26 (no idea what his name is!) got into a great fight with one of the other guys and he got a couple of really good punches in before the refs broke it up. My night was complete...friends, drinks, fights and the Cyclones won. What more could a girl ask for?
We walk into the night and are greeted by big beautiful snowflakes. Alaska flakes. Tonight, it feels like I am home.
So loving the cold and all that is cold related, one would think that I would be a rabid hockey fan. After all, I love ice skating; there was a time when I just knew I would be bringing home Olympic figure skating gold to The Last Frontier. But figure skating was as far as it went with me. Sure I had tons of friends who played hockey, even some girls, but it never really piqued my interest. I never learned the rules and I didn't understand how in the hell you were supposed to get going on hockey skates with no toe pick. Seriously! The one time I tried to learn hockey, I was on my ass five times in five minutes. No one told me there was no toe pick. No one told me that because there is no toe pick when you try to push off like you would in figure skates you topple forward in a graceless heap. So after my fifth and final fall, I promptly decided that hockey sucked.
I managed to make it through most of my teenage years without going to a hockey game. Even when I dated a hockey player, I somehow maneuvered my way around actually going to his games. I would hang out at Ben Boeke Ice Arena with all of the other hockey girlfriends, but there was no game watching going on. Oh I pretended to love hockey like a good little Alaskan (I got a UAA hockey jersey and everything!) but I prayed that no one would try to engage me in hockey speak because the jig would be up. When having a crush on a UAA hockey player and wearing a pin with is face on it on your jean jacket was "the thing" to do, I went along wholeheartedly, even though I couldn't tell you what the center does or what all of the lines on the ice mean. I realize now that my hockey ignorance is kind of taking away from my credibility as a real Alaska girl so I am on a mission to embrace this game.
I unfortunately do not live in a city that hosts a major league hockey team, so I am going to have to settle for going to a Cincinnati Cyclones game as my first hockey experience. They are a local minor league hockey team, so I think that qualifies as professional hockey, no? I have heard these games are a blast so it should be pretty fun. I wanted to enlist a few people to go with me, so I chose to go on dollar beer night, figuring someone might be enticed enough by that to tag along. Jaime, Lisa and Jodi all agreed to make my maiden hockey voyage with me so I was set.
Jody and I arrived at the game with the plan of meeting Jaime and Lisa at US Bank Arena. Typically, being the somewhat anal planner that I am, I would (gently) insist that we all ride together so that there is no confusion, but I am trying to be more laid back in 2010 so I refrained. I am terminally early for things, so Jody and I were parked and headed to the arena at 6:45 even though the game did not start until 7:30. We approach the ticket counter and this guy who had just got tickets with his son offered us two free tickets. Jody and I exchange glances, immediately suspicious, but the man insists we take them and says we can trade them for different seats. I figure we should take them...maybe it's a good omen for the evening. We exchange the two free tickets and purchase two more so the four of us can sit together, then head inside to wait for Jaime and Lisa. For the record, hockey games are a great place to people watch! We saw a little bit of everything, including a guy with a puck hat...I am not really sure if my description would do it justice. Picture a foam hockey puck about the size of a platter. Then picture said puck on the head of a grown - ass man. Now you see the comedy.
At about 7:15, I am beginning to get a little antsy. Then I get a text from Jaime saying they finally made it and are in the building but don't see us. I told her we were by the main entrance and that we had the tickets. A few more minutes pass...no Jaime. The music is beginning to pump up in the arena and from where we are standing I can see on the Jumbotron that they are making the player introductions. I am not sure what to do at this point. I call Jaime, but her cell phone is going to voicemail. Crap. At this point we have two choices...go in and hope that she calls when they get to the door or wait. We wait. I can't bring myself to go in even though I am dying to see the faceoff (isn't that what it's called?). Jodi tells me to go in so I can see it and she'll wait for them. I'm torn but rush past the ticket taker and into the arena in time to see the one of the Cyclones skating away with the puck. Oops. Missed it.
I go back out to where Jodi is standing and try to call Jaime again. Voicemail. Crap crap. Jodi and I are trying to figure out what to do when a roar erupts from the crowd, a ridiculously loud horn goes off and the announcer screams "GOAL!" Jodi and I look at each other and burst out laughing. Seriously. It would have to be at the game I go to that they score like two minutes in. That never happens! Never!
Now I am really not sure what to do! I decide to walk to the other entrance (though they wouldn't have been able to get in there without their tickets, which I have) but they are not there either. I just don't know what to do. I can see Jodi and I walking into the game just as they get to the entrance and we completely miss each other. I try to call again but it goes straight to voicemail. Crap crap crap.
I head back to Jodi, still not sure what to do when out of the corner of my eye I spy the answer to at least one of my problems....an open bar! I don't drink beer so the dollar beer special did nothing for me, but the bar has a Smirnoff Ice with my name on it. Now I can at least keep my anxiety at bay! Drink in hand, I find Jodi and ask her what she thinks we should do.'
Roar of the crowd. Ridiculously loud horn. "GOAL!"
Are you kidding me??? Are you freakin kidding me?
Needless to say, we decided to go in. We grab Jodi a beer and try to find our section. We got great tickets in the lower level, row K, right at center ice, but we decide to sit in the first row of the upper level anyway. We could still see everything and we didn't have to crawl over a bunch of what I can only assume given the promotional beer rate, are drunk or almost drunk rowdy fans. I feel terrible about not being able to find Jaime and Lisa. I keep my phone in my lap hoping that they will call and say that they are here and that we just somehow missed them.
I am trying to take in the scenery of my very first hockey experience and one thing jumps out at me. There are a lot of men here. A LOT of men. The combination of testosterone and cheap beer give the arena a buzz unlike any sporting event I've ever been to. I feel like at any moment guys are gonna start pounding on each other... I love it!
I am trying to follow the action of the game, but I have to admit I am kind of lost. The puck is much easier to follow in person though, thank goodness. I was worried it would be like my attempts to watch NHL and being confused because I never knew where the damn puck was! But this was cool. And these guys can really skate! I am mesmerized by their footwork, it's amazing. And then there is the checking. Now seriously, that's what I came to see. How great is a sport where you can smash someone hard as hell against a wall and it's not against the rules?! And they let you fight!! I was praying I would get to see a good hockey fight but the checking was pretty awesome too.
By the start of the second period I am pretty into the game. Then my phone finally beeps with a text. JAIME!! She says they must have missed us and ended up buying tickets and coming in. I can't figure out how we missed them! We were standing right inside the main entrance, and honestly, there were not a lot of black women there. Especially ones wearing a huge hockey jersey with the word Alaska across the front! But somehow they slipped past us and were seated in the section right in front of us! I look down to section 132 and immediately spot them. Hilarious! I send a text back telling them where we are and they come up to join us. Given how few people are at this game, it is complete comedy that we somehow missed each other totally.
We walk into the night and are greeted by big beautiful snowflakes. Alaska flakes. Tonight, it feels like I am home.
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