Look up here, I’m in heaven

"If you're ever sad, just remember the world is 4.543 billion years old and you somehow managed to exist at the same time as David Bowie." @JeSuisDean

That sound you heard this morning at 6:30am was my heart breaking into a thousand tiny pieces. When you wake up and look at your phone and it's full of condolence messages? You just know. And I knew but I didn't want to believe it. What can I say? I honestly thought he'd live forever.

David Bowie saw me through so much. He made me feel cool when I absolutely wasn't. He gave me the hope and courage to be myself even if that self was really weird. Especially if that self was weird. Just the sound of his voice soothed me when nothing else could. If I was walking through a store and heard a Bowie song piped in I always saw it as a good omen. "Hey, a Bowie song!"

I saw him live six times, once in a small club in NY which is one of my happiest memories. I went to Chicago in 2014 to see the David Bowie Is exhibit with my friend Ashley and wept when I saw the Life on Mars suit. It was fine, I was in a room full of people doing the same thing. My people. I'm convinced he saved teenage lives with Rock 'n' Roll Suicide. Gimme your hands cause you're wonderful. 

We believed in him and he believed in us right back. Blackstar was his last gift to us and only he could go out like that - full of mystery and class right up to the end. I'm just so grateful. And really:

Safe travels, David, wherever you are. I hope your next adventure is even more amazing. 

Long Overdue: Stuff I Like!

I haven't done one of these for a while!

Mumford & Sons: Sigh No More. I know I'm late to the party (as usual) on this but OH MY GOD. I'm completely obsessed. They are similar to the Frames, but better...more...something. With Shakespeare references and a bit of banjo thrown in.

Time and Again by Jack Finney. Have you read it? It's an oldie but damn, it's still really good. If you've never read it please do immediately. It's all pleasure, no angst; Just a good story with a bit of time travel, New York history and really good descriptive passages. I re-read it ever few years just for fun.

I wondered why it hadn't been made into a movie yet and found this NY Times article from 1994. Fascinating! I kind of hope it never gets made into a movie because I love it too much. (Note to Robert Redford: Dude. Even in 1994 you were too old to play Si. I mean, really.)

Speaking of beloved books-to-movies, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo comes out TOMORROW. I am there. So, so excited.

Handmade Ryan Gosling. I know there have been a ton of Ryan Gosling "Hey girl" blogs but I think the handmade one is my absolute favorite. Here's an entry Marianne submitted:

Happy holidays, nerds. 

Insomanical

Insomnia is so ridiculously frustrating. I thought I had it beat but the past three nights have been all about me lying in bed wide awaking waking impatiently to fall. The hell. To sleep. If I do happen to drift off I wake up seconds later with my heart racing, which as you can probably imagine is really super-duper restful. Falling asleep used to be easy! Something I did without thought or concern! But check it:

Saturday night: went to bed at midnight, fell asleep at 4:30am.
Sunday night: went to bed at 11pm, fell asleep at 2am
Monday night: went to bed at 11pm, fell asleep at 1:30am

I'm trying desperately hard not to resort to the sleeping pills again because that really isn't a real solution. And, before you pipe up with your wisdom, I regularly take any combination of the following:

- melatonin
- valerian root
- Benedryl
- chamomile tea
- Gaba
- horse tranquilizers (kidding! Unless you have some?)

Sometimes these works, sometimes they don't. I have no caffeine after 8am. I exercise daily. I eat a healthy diet. I am about to lose my MIND.

Oh, Fine. I'm back.

In the past month or so I've had several friends make sad whiny noises about how I don't update my bloooooog anymore and how I'm so fuuuuunnnnny and whhhhhhy don't I update? I remind them about the awesomely funny style blog I share with Marianne and they make a face and then I make a face because THAT IS WHERE THE FUNNY IS and you should all be reading it.

But fine. Be that way. You don't have to read the style blog (even though it's FUNNY) if you don't want to even though it would be nice for the support and you'll be sorry when we're blog millionaires like Dooce and we will not let you frolic with us own our own private style blog island. So, just remember that.

Now, where was I? Oh, it was March and I was sick. Again. Since then, lots has happened:

- I spent TONS of money trying to keep my jackass car running.
- I quit the jewelry business.
- I won and lost mountain bike races.
- I went to hang out with Marianne in Knoxville a couple of times.
- I read a lot of books.
- I watched too much TV.
- I joined a bike team. Yay!
- I finally cured my insomnia after being (only slightly) addicted to sleeping pills*
- I did this by cutting out nearly all caffeine
- Which suuuuuucks.
- I whined a lot about how it's not summer anymore.
- I am having something of a mid-life crisis (more on that soon)


So, that's what I didn't post about this year. Any questions?

*OMG sleeping pills, they are amazing,  y'all. Seriously. I wish they didn't have the pesky side effect of altering brain chemistry and causing, like, amnesia because they work like CRAZY BALLS.

Just for Posterity.

If you're ever really, really sick, I have the best "sleep like you've been tranquilized" solution. A shot of NyQuil followed by a tequila chaser. I know this will horrify a few of you, but I'm telling you:

1. The only NyQuil worth taking is the liquid (green, not red). Yes, it tastes like battery acid, but that's because it works.

2. If you're not normally a "shot of tequila" kind of person (I'm not) try drinking a shot of NyQuil first. You will be shocked at how good the tequila tastes in comparison. Like a mouthful of golden nothing followed by a lovely mellow warmth. Trust.

All that said, I bring you the Nighty Night (as dubbed by my friend Marianne):

Model Citizen, Zero Dicipline.

This morning I tucked myself and all my day's stuff into the car, plugged in my iPod and hit "shuffle all" to see what kind of Monday it was going to be. My iPod picked...Panama by Van Halen.

Me: Really? Are you sure about this?

iPod: DUDE!

Me: Well...okay. If you say so.

iPod: DUUUUUUUUUUUDE!!

And away we went, my iPod being much more optimistic than me. I've been sick though, with tonsillitis and a nasty cold, for well over a week and I'm just now really starting to feel better. The sick cloud started lifting on Saturday, but on Sunday it was rainy and bleak and I didn't sleep well, so I was back to feeling gross and worn out. "Rainy Sunday" sounds like a romantic kind of day but let's be realistic - it sucks. Everything is wet and cold and you are restless inside, but outside things aren't any better.

All the downer talk aside, the weekend ended on a decent note. I made a good dinner and we watched a documentary I'd found randomly on Netflix and knew nothing about: The Parking Lot Movie. I highly recommend it, especially if you've ever worked a job like this, where all your customers are mostly dicks but you really like your co-workers and creativity is encouraged. I mean, I know these guys. I've been these guys! Anyway, watch it. It's worth the hour. (Also, if you're local, the parking lot in the movie is in Charlottesville.)

Weekend Ennui

It's been one of those weeks that feels like it had an extra couple of Wednesdays in it or something, right? Normally I'd be delighted that it's Friday but I woke up with a sore throat again and I fear it's going to be one of those weekends where the weather is gorgeous and I spend it feeling like crrrrap. Also, Kenny has to work another 12-hour shift tomorrow (and is working one right now) so that kind of sucks too.

Hopefully it's just allergies and my throat will stop feeling like battery acid is being poured down the back. Even a cute outfit can't save it and I'm wearing my goddamn happy dress. WHY.

So, but here's something worthwhile - you know those Girl with the Dragon Tattoo books everyone loves? Believe the hype. I'm halfway through book two and I never want it to end. Also, there's a really sweet shopping passage (I love reading shopping descriptions almost as much as I love reading food descriptions) where the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo outfits her apartment from IKEA. The author actually lists what she bought! I was so geeked out but I wanted to see. And then! I though, INTERNET. Surely someone has already done this work for me? And behold, they have: Lisbeth Salander's IKEA shopping list.

And that is why I love the Internet.

Office Space.

So I mentioned a few posts ago that I was getting an office all for my own, and I did! I have my own office with a door and two giant windows and it's magical. Everything I ever dreamed it could be. The window next to my desk looks right into a giant magnolia tree so sometimes I catch myself staring out at the merry squirrels with my mouth hanging open like a simpleton. It's just that good.

I will also let the sun burn holes through my retinas in the morning because I really can't imagine drawing the blinds on all that AMAZING NATURAL LIGHT. It's so good! So good. So good, in fact, that I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Is this just a cruel joke? Will I be dragged kicking and screaming back to my grey windowless Blair Witch murder corner? We shall see. Until then, here are some pictures of my view:

Awww, yeah. That is what I'm talking about.

I'm such an asshole.

Posted on my husband's Facebook page, for him to find when he gets home from work:

Dear Husband,

As I was rushing out of the door this morning I noticed something small and fuzzy by the bench. At first I though it was a toy mouse and then realized it was a mouse mouse. And dead. Or sleeping? Probably dead. I was late and also no way was I going to touch the dead thing, so welcome home! Please can you dispose of the mouse by the door?

Love,
Adrien

How Not to Spend your Evening.

I had a great day yesterday. Completely stellar, really. It was just one of those magical days where good things happen and you feel really great to be alive. This is usually how you feel right before something totally shitty happens, right? Right.

So, last night around 9pm I let Stella out. It was raining which usually means she'd just hang out on the side porch and demand to come  in five minutes later. Two seconds after I let her out I completely forgot about her until bedtime, when Kenny was all, "Um, where's Stella?" Oops. Not good.

He went out in the dark, cold rainy night to look for her while I pretended to maybe see if he needed help. Meaning, I stood at the door calling her name until it was too cold to have the door open. Hey, I was in my pajamas and it was raining.

From the back yard Kenny said he could hear her and he wandered off, following the sound of her yowls. Then he came back in with Very Serious Face. Apparently she'd gotten herself treed. Again. Usually when this happens it's in one of the smaller trees in our yard and she comes down after a bit of cajoling.

This time, according to Kenny, she was up pretty high in a tree on our next door neighbor's property. Yes, he needed help and could I come hold the ladder. Goddammit. I pulled on boots and a coat over my pajamas and grimly followed him outside. It was midnight. Outside. Raining. Cold. Not our yard. Not good so far.

Then after tromping through the underbrush of the empty lot next to our neighbor's house, I saw the tree and...oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I think I stood there with rain falling in my face as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. It was a big-ass tree, straight up and down with a comical stubby broken nub of a branch about 20-25 feet up. On that broken nub branch? My cat.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

I mean, what the hell were we going to do? She was yowling and wet and freaked out and SO FAR UP THERE. The ladder we own is 17' and it didn't even come close to where she was.

We talked to her a while and cajoled and discussed. Even if she could figure out how to get down, she'd most likely fall part of the way. The next closest branch was a good 15 feet below her. Oh my God. I have never felt so helpless in my entire life. There was literally nothing I could do to help her.

We stood there in the dark, in the cold dark rainy night trying to figure out what to do and hoping that the neighbors didn't call the police. It started to rain harder.  We went inside and I got online to see if I could find any ideas. Meanwhile, Kenny took a large piece of foam he'd been hoarding and put it under the tree, just in case.

The Internet declared the best thing to do was to leave the cat alone, as she was less likely to come out of a tree if there were people at the base yelling at her. So, we finally decided to just go to bed and if she was still up there in the morning we'd call a tree service and beg for help.

Kenny camped out on the couch so he'd hear her if she came to the door, but we were both still really freaked out and sleep was not going to be a thing, really.

20 minutes later we heard a squawk and there she was, wet to the skin and HAPPY AS HELL to be home. I have no idea how she got herself out of that tree but she was completely unharmed. Damn cat. And here:

Oh my God, right?  Do not recommend.

Here's a Headline for you, Anderson

Did you guys see this?

If you didn't, let me convince you to watch:  Pee Wee Herman, Anderson Cooper, drunken shenanigans, intervention, Chairy tells Anderson to get the fuck off her. If that's not enough, I am not doing my job.

I Did Not Green Light This.

Did you see this? I am AGHAST. And also a little amused by how much it tweaked me. I am a CAPRICORN, DAMMIT. It is part of my (fake mythological) identity! Even though I've never quite felt like Capricorn! Please observe:


"The Capricorn individual is stable (eh), hard-working (um), practical (ha!), methodical (sure), and ambitious (no), never losing sight of his goals regardless of how many obstacles are in the way (You! Get out of my...what? Oooh, shiny.)

Socially, Capricorn is inhibited and uncomfortable in new situations (yes), approaching others at first with caution and suspicion (totally).  As far as money is concerned, Capricorn approaches finances as he does everything else - with prudence, planning, and discipline. (HA! HHAAAAAAAAA!!)  As such, there are not many Capricorns on the bottom of the barrel in society (Hi! It's nice in this barrel. Very...bottom-y.)"

Anyway, even though I'm not the Capri-est of Capricorns, its still part of my identity and I am NOT AT ALL PLEASED to be lumped into Sagittarius all of a sudden. Nothing wrong with Sagittarius if you are one, but I am not. For one thing, it's an extrovert sign. NON.

So, where do you fall in this new realm of things? I think it'll never stick. People are too invested in their fakery astrological personality whatnot to switch out now. Hmph.

Speaking of Capricorn-ness, my birthday approaches! It's Sunday and I'm looking forward to a weekend full of cake and gifts. I think I'm going to go see The King's Speech tomorrow with my mother, so there will be some Firth too. I think any weekend can be made better with a little Firth, really.

So, what are you doing this weekend?

Breathing Room.

You thought I wasn't going to do it, didn't you? But here I am, eking out a weekly entry as promised.

So, wanna know what the best thing I got for Christmas is? It's almost as good as a pony. Actually, in some ways it's better than a pony because it doesn't require upkeep. Can you guess?

Dudes, I am getting MY OWN OFFICE. WITH WINDOWS. PLURAL.

Yes! The department I work in is being moved to the next building over and we're getting out of the windowless basement space we're in now. Currently I don't even have a proper cube, just a triangular desk that fits into a corner, Blair Witch murder style. I also have my back to the door so I jump out of my skin approximately 800 times a day. It's not... ideal. In fact, it makes me irritable and bitchy. Whoever came up with the open-office thing just needs to be shot because who can actually get anything done when there are people talking right behind you? It's maddening.

So, in three weeks I'll be packing up my drawers full of garbage and moving to my own little space with a door and a view and oh, all mine. And this change will hopefully making me at least 25% less bitchy. But no promises.

Happy Blog Anniversary to Me.

Okay, I couldn't have the last entry of 2010 be something so sad, so here I am writing a desperate update post-holiday. Christmas was a bit chaotic, but really pretty nice overall. Our tree this year is cute and a bit scrappy:

I saw it at Lowe's and felt sorry for it, so it had to come home with us. Aw.

Also, we had a white Christmas this year! Amazing. Even though I'd decided I hated snow after last year's pummeling, it was still really nice to have snow on Christmas. The next day it was still snowing so we did a snow ride:

It's more fun than it sounds like. The snow was still coming down so we were in the woods all snowy and quiet and it was just unlike anything else. Like you're on another planet. (Also, if you fall it doesn't really hurt.)

Finally, this is a blog-anniversary for me! It's my 8th. Eight years ago I was a miserable temp at a miserable bank loan center and I started this blog (on Diaryland) as an Internet cry for help. Here's my first-ever entry: http://amblus.diaryland.com/021231_70.html

It's terrible, but it got really good for a while and now we're back to terrible. So, here's my resolution: I resolve to update my Amblus blog at least once a week for the entire damn year of 2011. If I don't, you can shake your finger up in my face or something.

Thanks for reading! I look forward to annoying you for the year to come. 

Farewell to Stripes.

Last week was the normal week-length,  but so much happened that it feels like it was much longer. The previous weekend was all about things ending, about of sadness mixed with relief, of happiness and grief.

At the beginning of December we noticed that Zephyr (aka Stripes) was starting to lose weight rapidly. She eventually stopped eating altogether, though she'd try because she knew we wanted her to. At sixteen she'd done a lot of living and had been on hyperthyroid meds for the past four years, so her health had been a concern.

We took her to the vet and got blood tests done and the results were not surprising, but still devastating: her kidneys were failing and there wasn't much that could be done. We took her home over the weekend and she mostly slept but also spent a lot of time on our laps, still sweet, still purring. 

By last Monday we knew it was time. It was snowing that morning and when I carried her out to the car she looked around with interest, snowflakes sticking to her ears. She sat in my lap all the way to the vet, never protesting once. She was frail and tired and had no fight left. 

So, last Monday, my dear stripey friend left us and we're still at odds and ends. Even though it was time, we're still missing her so much.

Zephyr was a scrappy stray that my sister rescued for me. The first day I brought her home she burrowed under a pile of laundry and stayed there for hours, all a-tremble. But, once she got used to me she became the sweetest, wildest, funniest cat ever. 

She loved me to sing to her and would meow and dance around when I did. She loved tuna, she loved Kenny's lap, she loved being outside. She was an excellent hunter of birds and rodents and, when our downstairs neighbor became pregnant, Zephyr started leaving gifts of (decapitated) mice on the back porch for her. Thoughtful!

But that best thing was that she was the kind of cat you could pick up and hold like a baby and she would purr just because she loved you. A rarity.

Oh, Stripes, we sure do miss you.

Monday Ennui

I know I promised vacation pictures and stories but you're just going to have to wait another day or too. I'm currently in my yearly state of post-Thanksgiving ennui. Or, "paralyzing holiday-induced state panic" if we're going to go all out and be completely honest. The panic, paired with the mental shutdown I always have on the Monday following a long holiday weekend, means I sat at my desk today in a near-comatose state, flinching when spoken to and praying to be left alone by, well, almost everyone.

Also, wishing we could just have a "no small talk" clause written into days like this. Like, right now my list of people I'd like to talk to is about at three. Three people. Are you one of them? WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW. (So yeah, probably not.)

But I ask, is it normal to spend the entire day feeling like I want to cry? And then thinking about Christmas and really, really wanting to cry? Because I like Christmas, I just wish I could hire someone to do it for me so I can just sit back and enjoy it instead of fearing it.

Because, really, I think maybe I'm broken. A good friend emailed me and asked if I wanted to get together and do something "festive" and a cold shiver went down my spine. Festive? WHAT DOES SHE MEAN. It was as if she'd asked me if I wanted to go to a Christmas store in July or something. Only it's not July anymore. Oh, no! This is totally a reasonable request because it's nearly December.

I weep.

Only Me.

Okay, here's the thing. This has not at all been a bad week for me. Decent as weeks go, especially when I had the shining realization that next week was a two-day work week. THAT IS SO GOOD.

In the average day I live moment to moment, occasionally laughing out loud at something in my head or having random dark thoughts out of nowhere, like when I drove back from lunch earlier today, spotted the Annoying Mail Guy's van and briefly contemplated flooring the gas pedal and ramming into it just to scare the crap out of him. (Not to maim or kill, people. No, really.) This thought also made me happy so maybe I'm just dark. (But not dark enough to be able to handle watching that new zombie show. Why did I think I could handle that? I CANNOT handle that.)

So, the week in general has been clomping along just fine and then?  I got locked in the bathroom at work. Unlike the last time I got locked in the bathroom, this wasn't a single stall so much as a single room bathroom with a faulty doorknob that decided to just take the day off. I'm surprised I didn't actually break my face when I unlocked the door and flung my full weight into it only to thump my body uselessly against a plank of solid oak. Ow.

I fiddled with the knob and tried over and over to open the door but it wasn't happening. I was perplexed, then full of denial, then angry that I was stuck without a book or iPod or ANYTHING to keep me occupied.

A few minutes later I heard someone on the other side of the door rustling around in the fridge and I banged on the door and told this person I was locked in. They were all, "Oh, no! Hold on! I'll go find the custodian!"

I was relieved until I heard this person pause,  unwrap their Lean Cuisine, leisurely put it in the microwave and push the buttons before finally bothering to wander off and find someone to free me. Well, thanks, jerk. I'll just be hanging out HERE IN THE BATHROOM WHILE YOU EAT YOUR LUNCH FIRST.

Eventually she came back with the custodian who freed me with a pair of scissors (with which she jimmied the lock.) There was, of course, a whole group of folks gathered around in the hall gleefully waiting to see who the victim was. Well, hi there, assholes. Just me. Of course it's me.

Then, THEN, the custodian said, "You're the second person who's gotten locked in here today!"

Okay, really? Because there shouldn't have been a second person, right? I mean, after the first person has proven the lock to be faulty, perhaps a note? Or a piece of tape over the lock thingy?

Anyway. All of this is just a lead-up to plug my friend Pamela's blog. Because this girl tells embarrassing stories the likes of which you will not believe. But I've met her and it's all true. She really is that awesome.

Forgive me.

I know, dude. I KNOW. This is ridiculous that I'm even admitting I do this but sometimes when I'm bored I go back a few years and read old entries just to find out where my brain was in, say, 2007. And then I read this entry and started snort-laughing at my desk because that shit is FUNNY.

Then I remembered I wrote it and felt like a jerk for being all, I'M SO AWESOMELY FUNNY.

But, sometimes I am.

Reading all my posts from November 2007 (when I did NaBloPoMo) makes me really miss my old Amblus scrawls. While I don't know that I have a daily entry in me, I do promise to try to update in a more timely manner and to more often share the weird crap that happens to me. You guys still out there?

...And, it's November.

I'm such an ass. Sorry, kids. But, I feel like I will have new and exciting things to talk about after this coming weekend, as my husband and I are going on a short trip to celebrate our ten year anniversary. The original plan was to go back to Charleston so I could eat this, but alas, Charleston is freaking expensive. But! Instead we've decided to rent a cabin at Douthat State Park and go mountain biking in the actual, you know, mountains. Sounds fun! And it will be, except for the part where you ride uphill for hours.

Also, the weather forecast right now looks kind of awful, but there will be a cabin and and fireplace and s'mores and we can always do things like "talk to each other" so I think it'll be a fun weekend either way. It's been ages since we took a vacation together, so we're both looking forward to it.

I promise crossmyheart that I will post photos an' shit after we get back because this blog has just been dying a slow death. Maybe I need to botch up a cake recipe again or something. Dang.

Still Alive and Kicking in a Feeble Manner.

Hi, sorry. Apparently I can only handle one blog at a time? And it's way easier to just post a dumb photo of my outfit than actually put words, like, together. In a meaningful manner. Excuses excuses.

Summer is over and I am a little sad about that.  But, I do have something to talk about. My high school reunion is this weekend. My 20th.  I'm surprisingly not only not scared, I'm actually looking forward to it. Apparently 20 years is exactly the amount of time you need to get perspective on what actually matters and what to just let go. I didn't even consider going to my 10th because, oh hell no! I hated high school! Also, at 28 I was not in a great place - unemployed, overweight, set adrift in my own insecurity.

Now, at 38 I am much more sure of myself. I tried to explain to my old best friend from high school that I wanted to go because I felt like I was a more interesting person now, and she laughed at me like that was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard. Or, she just though I was being self-centered. And maybe I was, but hey, I feel good about myself now and that's not the worst thing in the world is it? I refuse to be intimidated by the girls who could barely be bothered to talk to me 20 years ago because who's to say they're still that person? I would hate to be judged solely based on the child I was 20 years ago because, like most kids, I was kind of an asshole sometimes. An asshole with badly hennaed hair.

A bit of background: I went to a very small private school for Dyslexic kids for 7th, 8th and 9th grade, then "mainstreamed" into a middling private Catholic girl's school for 10-12. This was okay because I had a few friends there already, but also not okay because, in missing my freshman year, I missed the sorting process of clique hierarchy. I was automatically sorted into my existing friend's group of friends which worked out, but also prevented me from choosing my own friends upfront. Anyway, we fell somewhere in the middle of the Popularity Ladder. We were not popular, but also not not popular. It's complex.

Anyway, enough of the people I'd want to see again have signed up and a few of the "popular" girls have as well, so it should be interesting. I would like to add that I will look SLAMMIN' at both events I'm going to. I happen to know that one of my high school ex-boyfriends is attending, so I think looking awesome is both necessary and right.