So, get this: you already know about my fibroid friends (I've tentatively named them Hercules Mulligan, because they're on the inside), but guess who may or may not ALSO have a hernia? Gee, I love being in my mid-thirties!
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed a sort of medium-sized, soft bump under the skin on one side of my abdomen, just above the belly button. I emailed my doctor about it, expecting her to say it was no big deal, or I should just wait and see what happens. Nope! She said it might be a hernia, and I should come in for a visit. I went in yesterday and she basically said HMMM, I do not know what that is! It's not textbook hernia, but it still could be; it could also just be a lipoma (a benign tumor made of fat, yay). I'm meeting with a surgeon on Thursday to see what he thinks. Which is different from my OTHER appointment with a DIFFERENT surgeon next week (for the fibroids). The big question is, if it's a hernia and they decide to repair it, could I do two-for-one surgery and take care of both? In the mean time: I'm fine, I'm not in any pain, everything's asymptomatic. But y'all, I did not expect 35 to be the year my body began to betray me in all these small and mostly boring ways.
Dating-wise, I broke up with Chai and am pretty sure that was the right choice; he was so sweet, but we ran out of stuff to say. I have a date with someone else this coming Saturday, and it'll be interesting to see how it goes: he's extremely cute and his profile is spot-on (basically normal, articulate but not pretentious, funny but not Too Much), but so far, over text, he's kind of killing me. First, when we were messaging through the app, he was pretty slow to respond—just when I'd think he'd lost interest and bailed, he'd finally write me back. This is a giant joke on me, because I'm usually the one at risk of disappearing at any moment, so fine. Then Coffee Meets Bagel only gives you a week to message before they cut you off (the idea being that you should have met up by then); when I saw that we were running out of time and he hadn't written back in a couple of days, I sent a note to say "hey, I see that we're running out of time, I think you seem cool and I don't want to lose touch, here's my number." He texted me that night, and...it was not great. THE SMALL TALK, YOU GUYS. However, we did finally make a date for this coming Saturday (he had friends in town this past weekend), and I do want to see it through, because I actually do want to meet the guy in his profile. So. Is he awkward over text but a delight in person, as I suspect and also hope with my whole heart? Or did he pay someone to write him a low-key cute profile, and he's actually a boring monster? Saturday will tell, and I will almost certainly report back.
Last but not least, I am mourning the ending of The People vs. OJ Simpson, which I loved very much and which also turned out to be a source of a delightful amount of shipping (a thing I found myself Googling mid-series: "are marcia clark and christopher darden married now"), and this weekend I watched S2 of Catastrophe on Amazon, which I found more difficult than S1, but still extremely excellent. You all should watch both so we can talk about them! I have no idea where OJ is available, but both seasons of Catastrophe are streaming on Amazon, and they are very short (six 25-minute episodes each) and very wonderful. And Kimmy Schmidt comes back this Friday, which I guess means I should watch all of S1 over again before then? I think that's what that means. WHO NEEDS SLEEP/WORK/FOOD/FRIENDS/DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENTS.
LJ, I would ask you where the last month has gone, but I know where the last month has gone: into the copyediting void. I took a freelance gig for my old boss, which ate up all my time and brainpower (but paid well, so)--and now that I'm done, I'm all, boooorn freeeee, as free as the wind bloooows
. I can do WHATEVER I WANT!
Speaking of which, who (has two thumbs and) is taking a spur-of-the-moment long weekend in LA? THIS GIRL! midtownmandy
emailed me yesterday, throwing around talk of the Bones
Paley panel (would I like her extra ticket?, she asks all innocent-like) and maybe Disneyland on Saturday, and so I struck a deal with the boss and storyboarded LIKE THE WIND today, so that I can hop on down I-5 on Thursday. It's a mini-break! And, as everybody knows, mini-breaks mean true love.
Now I just need my neighbor to come home, so I can accost her and ask her to feed Sherlock. (My friends have been the very nicest about this sort of thing on past weekends away--they've actually volunteered--but...they shouldn't have to. Except maybe Luke, who wants a cat but is afraid of commitment. For him, it's probably a nice step.)
I went to Joy the Baker
's cookbook signing in San Francisco on Sunday, and man, if every twenty- and thirty-something lady in the city wasn't all dolled up and crammed into (slash out the door of, spilling half a block down Cesar Chavez) a cookbook store about the size of my bathroom. I actually ran into somebody I knew from the Internet--but I COULD NOT remember her name despite remembering everything else about her just fine. I guess this is what happens when blogs turn into books. Joy the Baker didn't actually read or speak, which was probably fine since half the audience wouldn't have heard her anyway. The line was forEVer, but I did buy the book and have it signed, so Brown Butter-Peanut Butter Rice Krispie Treats, here I come! And hey, she said she liked my outfit.
(Also, I've had this
--not from the cookbook--for lunch the last two days, and decided it may be the world's most perfect lunchbox food. Don't skimp on the jalapeno.)
I just started Mansfield Park
after outing myself on Austenacious as an Austen blogger who hasn't read all of Austen's novels (if you want to read along, join us!). Before that, I was reading Of Bees and Mist
, by Erick Setiawan, which I borrowed sight unseen from a librarian friend and was enjoying (also Independent People
, which is Icelandic and apparently won the Nobel Prize in the 1950s, and a book of Elizabeth Gaskell ghost stories). I never do that anymore--read books I've never heard of. Whatever happened to picking random books off the shelves of the public library? That's how I used to get ALL my books. It's sort of liberating, actually, reading something with no preconceived notions. I feel like my twelve-year-old self would approve.
Late to the party, I've started on the William H. Macy/Showtime Shameless
, which I like very very much so far for being the perfect blend of crass and heartfelt. Bones
are both on hiatuses of doom and I haven't been bothered to watch any of the new stuff. Is it bad that I'm not watching Smash
? Should I change my mind? Do my enjoyment of Megan Hilty and Anjelica Huston outweigh my irrational rejection of Katharine McPhee and my lack of caring about the Starlet Overcomes the Odds and Makes It On Broadway (When They Already Told Us She's Going to Make It On Broadway) storyline? Also under the category of Things I Meant To Watch But Don't: Alcatraz
. (At least Alcatraz
is a Bad Robot production, which means I'm contractually obligated to pick it up and fall hard for it between the third and fourth seasons. See you in 2015, Sam Neill!)
In conclusion, I spent a significant amount of time the other day looking for an icon of Amy Poehler's Weekend Update "Don't tell me what to do!" outburst but was unsuccessful. (This is how you know I'm LJ Forever: like six people are still on LJ, and I'm all, "Hey maybe there's an icon for that!" Aww, self.)
Who has two thumbs and is feeling way better about life today?
Here's the whole thing: I drove to work today! In a car! And I was nearly an entire hour early--that's how much faster it was than my carefully planned public transit route. Obviously, I also drove the other way, which got me home more than half an hour earlier than yesterday, and it turns out there's a significant psychological difference between getting home at 7:10, which is a normal-person time to get home from work, and getting home at 7:45, which is practically the middle of the night when you have to be in bed by 10:30. Who knew? Obviously there will be days when traffic is Threat Level Midnight, and on those days I'll probably do the BART/MUNI dance, but let's all say hooray for driving! Except for, like, the environment. Sorry, Earth.
Today was also a real work day, in the sense that I got to write some stuff and contribute to some other people's stuff, and at the end of the day we went out into the production area and shot some of the stuff we'd just written...which is sort of magical, right, that we do stuff like that? It all involved a silly British accent and throwing a week-old Costco cake on the floor, and sort of ended up looking like a terrorist video, but that was also part of the appeal, unexpectedly. (The actors were company employees, who apparently appear in stuff all the time along with actors we hire? OH GREAT.) I guess this is my life now?
And I feel the need to share with you guys this recipe
, which captainoz
passed along to me years
ago and which I kind of ignored until I became obsessed with it a few weeks back. It's delicious, and quick, AND I've changed it so that I use spinach instead of watercress (because a) who has watercress? and b) who wants the leftovers of a bag of watercress lying around?) and red pepper flakes instead of a red pepper (because a) I hate chopping and seeding jalapenos, and b) I decided the fresh pepper wasn't pulling its weight in the flavor profile). So it's basically the best and you should make it, and then bring leftovers to work and make your colleagues jealous.
I think I forgot to bring home dessert for myself. This feels especially tragic right at this moment, especially because it's time for jammies and the White Collar
summer season premiere, and in what way does dessert not
fit into that equation?
This week feels like I'm in a movie: one day I'm in LA, interning and teaching, and the next day I've packed everything up and moved back home and taken a job in San Francisco? When did all THAT happen?
Yesterday was my first day at work, and it was good; the commute from my parents' is a trek (a car, a subway, a bus, and an hour and forty minutes--aaaand I might try driving today, just to experiment), but everybody was friendly and the work sounds mostly like fun. (My boss promised me a good amount of goofing off in the production office, which I'm going to take as a good sign? Plus, you guys, we have the tiniest cutest least gremlin-looking chihuahua OF ALL TIME running around, waiting to distract people from their work with snuggles and little un-slobbery doggy kisses!) I'll start my first script in the fall, after I've spent some time learning how we work and what our stuff should sound like and doing some non-script writing, which seems like a good way to get my feet wet. I think that for the foreseeable future, life is going to be very much about the job: working, getting to work, coming home from work, planning better ways to get to work and home from work, taking care of my new-fangled transit card so I can get to work and get home from work, making my lunch for work, laying out my clothes for work, going to bed early so I can get up on time for work, etc. And then I'll get used to it and move closer, and it'll all just be what I do, and that'll be that. I'm excited about that time.
But for now: new dawn, new day...and I've gotta go.
So, a bit of context:
1) I'm at my parents' house. They're not around, having taken off for a month-long round-the-country road trip; my friend Cathye is house-sitting, taking care of the cats, etc. All is well so far.
2) Recently, a new cat has appeared on the scene in my parents' neighborhood--he has to be feral, because I've never seen a domesticated cat that acts the way this cat acts. I once ran into him in the yard and tried to shoo him away, and he hissed and lunged at me. He also has a history of yowling and throwing himself against our plate-glass door while my parents' cat sits on the other side. This is a tiny, badass cat.
So it's two o'clock this morning, and I'm sleeping away, earplugs in, etc. And even through the earplugs, I wake up to the sound of a full-on cat fight. Sherlock and Alex don't fight much anymore (lots of chasing, lots of "Tag! You're it," not a lot of actual aggression), so I head out into the living room to give them a stern talking-to. And who do I run into in the hallway? THE CAT. THE CAT IS IN THE HOUSE! I call for Cathye to help me out, but by the time she shows up, he's gone. I start to doubt myself--I've just woken up from a dead sleep, after all--but there are three colors of fur all over the living room: orange (Alex), brown (Sherlock), and black (Evil Feral Home Invader Cat)! We search the house as I try to convey the badassery of this cat to Cathye; we never do find him, but we do find a new, cat-sized hole in the screen of a window we'd left open. So, to review: an eight-pound stray a) ripped a hole in our window screen, b) came into my house, c) delivered a good old-fashioned beating to my parents' fourteen-year-old, eighteen-pound cat, d) intimidated a grown woman into calling for backup, and e) disappeared. NOTHING IS SAFE, YOU GUYS.
In other news: Interview #2 was yesterday, and I think it went well--I met the president of the company and the girl who currently does my job (she's not leaving; I'd be an addition rather than a replacement), and I feel good about it. I feel like I asked good questions, I said the things I forgot to say in the first interview, and they seemed to like me. They said they'd make a decision soon, so I'll just be over here, freaking out every time the phone rings. Don't mind me.
( Bones: The Change in the GameCollapse )
In other news, I stalked my future husband through the grocery store yesterday. He was tall and cute and wearing an old-man cardigan, and we both hung around the produce section until we met at the parsley and he found me a bag when I could only find the green organic ones. I've apparently blocked out what happened next, but I'm sure there's an alternate universe where I said something and he said something and now we're living happily ever after and will tell our grandchildren about how they only had curly parsley that day? Or something. So, universe, I will be making an appearance at Von's this coming Thursday around 6:15; I think you know your mission. Let's do this.
- Tags:bones, boys
- Music:Adem, "Something's Going to Come"