Sweet, sweet success, errr...I mean failure.

Oh the plans and goals I had for myself today...so far I'm 0-4.

I stayed up late last night finishing a few projects and then was properly and completely sucked in to the Gold medal women's beach volleyball final. The announcer explained that China had called a time out due to "equipment issues." The "equipment" with the "issues" was a freaking hat. The 'issue' itself was the Olympian from China was having problems putting her pony tail thru the opening in the back of the hat. I kid you not, the male announcer said "you may not realize just how hard it is to get a ponytail through the back of a hat." Really? That's the difficulty of the match? Does this mean the US team deserves an additional medal for getting dressed alllll by themselves? Please.

I intended to get up early today, hoping to be leaving the house around 7:45 to a) actually be early for work and b) make it easier to leave early today. Instead, I woke up at 7:40. Awesome. I'm not sure why I'm so tired - I didn't go to bed that much later but I guess I was pretty out of it. I think I may have fallen asleep in the shower.

My face felt tight this morning after my shower so I thought to myself 'self, remember to moisturize.' Next thing I know, I've got a hand full of tooth paste and I'm about to rub those hands together for application. Hmmm, not sure that's going to help.

I decided to dress up a bit for work today, mostly because my most favorite purple work top (with polka dots and ruffles! it's cute, I swear) was clean and would give me an excuse to wear my super hot black pencil skirt. As I looked in the mirror once my outfit was complete, I realized my skirt had lint alllllll over it. Ick. I grabbed my lint roller and made a swipe. Equipment failure extreme - the roller pushed all the lint it had collected in swipes previous and deposited them on my skirt. The paper was completely un-sticky (non-sticky? stickiless? whatever). I lifted up the corner of the sans-sticky sheet to go to the next, gave a little pull, and ....... the entire roll unraveled like a 2 year old with Charmin. Aparently lint rollers expire. I was unaware. And now covered in lint.

Metro was running with *h*u*g*e* delays today, so I quickly fired off some emails before crossing the bridge so hopefully I won't get nailed for turning in some docs late. I arrived at Chinatown, my transfer point, and proceeded to go to the wrong platform. I looked around thinking, "hmmm, that train should be going the other waaaaaa- fudge." Walked back over to the correct side and caught my train.

When I finally made it to my stop, late as usual, I decided what I needed more than anything was coffee. Good coffee. I sent a quick email to a couple other people with the "hitting up starbucks - who wants some" message. Within 3.4 seconds, a new world record, Dorothy responded with her order. One Big Big Latte coming up. I decided to treat myself to a venti as well - I have the feeling I could use the extra caffination today.

I headed into work, managed to open the massive door in front while balancing two venti cups against my chin and dropped Dorothy's off. No trips, no falls, no spillage. Thank the LORD.

Within 2 minutes of sitting at my desk, 1/4 of my latte ended up in my little basket of binder clips. yay me. go team. rah freakin' rah.

So now the question is do a) I go and wash all 50 of my little binder clips now dripping with my skinny vanilla latte, b) just put them back sticky and covered in milk - that will teach people to steal my clips, c) throw them away and start from scratch, or d) abort mission - just go home.

Kill Her With Kindness

I'd like to think overall I'm pretty good at not sweating the small stuff. I try to be that calm duck on top of the water while my feet are kicking madly beneath the surface. My job has helped me develop a thick skin I a) needed and b) appreciate daily. But there are a few people who still manage get my goat, one of whom was staying over last night.

I was dreading going home all day. Anxiety levels were unbelievably high and I hadn't even seen her yet. Thankfully I had to work late, then I met up with a friend for dinner hoping to minimize the possible contact time. On my metro ride home it struck me how ridiculous I'm being. Since when do I back down from a fight? Why am I fighting passive aggressive behavior with passive aggressive behavior? This is going nowhere. I started analyzing the situation, asking myself what the root of the issue really is. Is she a fairly miserable person? Yes. Is she amazingly talented at getting under my skin? Yes. Does this mean I don't have to be nice to her? Yes.....well, no.

I remembered something I read written by a woman who worked at a coffee house. Dee was frustrated people didn't treat her with the same respect and attention she was giving them. She remembered tens or even hundreds of individual orders, preferences, kids names, etc, and yet so few could remember just one name, or even bother to look at her name tag and call her by her name. My brief time as a restaurant employee gave me the same frustrations - I'd greet someone with "Hello! How are ya?" and the response invariably would be "Yes, I'd like a...." After a while, I stopped expecting people to answer my question and generally stopped asking all together. Dee's response was different - she decided instead to 'kill them with kindness.' Over time, she started noticing a difference. There would always be those people who would view her as just an extension of the espresso machine but others stopped and saw she was more than an excellent frother. She had a name, she had a daughter, she had a great sense of humor. She was a kind and generous person who deserved kindness in return.

I decided to give it a whirl last night. I didn't rush home after dinner but as I got home, I psyched myself up for battle before going in. She was there and was not in a good mood. I greeted her, she returned it with a heavy sigh but with a hello. I couldn't tell if she was just tired or annoyed that I was home later than I said I would be. I asked her if she was psyched up for her daughter's move this weekend. She was not. Ok then. Well it will be fun to see her new place! She does not like it. Well then...

I took a five minute break from the action to recompose myself. She was not going to make this easy. I went back out and asked if she'd like me to set up our extra bed in the living room for her. She looked at it and said "it doesn't look comfortable." Well, it's just a twin I replied, but it's more comfy than the carpet! "Oh. Well....no. I don't think so. But I might put the mattress on the floor." Sure! I said. I have sheets to fit it! And blankets! I can grab them for you in a minute. "No, I brought my OWN sheets. I don't want yours." Ok, I said, but if you'd rather, I also have an air mattress - it might be better than the green thing -- just let me know, I'm happy to get it out for you. "No, I'm sleeping on that tomorrow. (big sigh) At Marie's. Air mattress (mutter mutter mutter)..." And then she gave me the full body turn away to face the TV.

I wanted to run over to her, give her a hug, and scream in her ear 'I'M BEING NICE TO YOU DAMMIT AND I DON'T HAVE TO! BE NICE TO ME - YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE GROWN UP HERE' but I didn't. She clearly needs more hugs and compliments and sunshine and puppies, etc, but not from me, and not tonight. I don't want to make one of those sweeping statements of "thank God I'm me and not her" so instead I made more of a "thank God I am me. Period. Dot." Who knows why she is the way she is. Freud probably has some ideas, therapy might not be a bad idea, but in the mean time, even if it kills me, I will be nice. Nicer than nice. A friend just sent me an email forward with a bunch of pink fru fru crap but at the end it said "Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle." I don't know what she's fighting, but from the looks of it, she could use all the help she can get.

Close only counts in Horseshoes, Hand Grenades, and Narrow Escapes of Death in Richmond

My life is full of adventures and tales of glory - fighting the good fight, taking on the enemy, risking it all for knowledge of standing on the side of righteousness. And then there is the portion of my life I like to refer to as 'dumb luck' or this week as '#7 of my 9 lives' -- or to put it plainly, 'Kate Goes to Richmond and Tries to Stay Alive.'

Somehow each time I make the trek a mere 90 miles south, I enter the CZ - the Catastrophe Zone. Once there was the mystery monster flying bug in the bathroom that waited until you otherwise occupied to jump out and help nature along by literally scaring the crap out of you. Next time, while out on a Zombie walk, I was attacked by a giant (I think) flesh eating spider (or at least one with a wicked bite), had my arm swell up and ended up with a fever. I almost died, I swear. And then there was the time we were racing to catch a 6 am train and....oh wait, I didn't die...but someone almost did. (Hi Jen!)

Life with Jen is never boring - there's the endless adventures of hikes around Belle Isle, the never ending search for lost keys, wild exploits in parallel parking, and always going where ever the wind takes us - I always have a fan-damn-tastic time in the south with her. This past weekend, however, was nearly my last.

Jen needed to have her oil changed (and needed a good excuse to drive the other car that has A/C during the hot hot weather) and asked if I'd mind following her to the shop in one of the cars. I lept at the chance to drive a car! oooooh emmmmmm geeeee! A Car! And I was secretly hoping we could take the long way to the shop so I could spend just a few more minutes behind the wheel. Without even having to ask, Jen read my mind. But we didn't just take a spin around the block....ooooooh no, we took a trip down Old Gun Road.

Old Gun Road is a back road at its best. I'm sure the speed limit is about 15 miles an hour, but with all the curves and dips and turns and ups and downs, you really can't appreciate it going less than 40. And appreciate it we did. I was doing a pretty good job in my car keeping up with the Lead Foot Leader when we started up an incline. A poor sap on a bike training for the Tour De Richmond was huffing and puffing up the hill when Jen zoomzoomed around him and took off. I, naturally did the same, as safely as I could when I looked ahead of me and saw a Jeep. Coming towards me. And I swear to God, accelerating towards me. The biker was next to me and I thought I had enough time to increase my speed just a bit more and squeak in. barely. I was so focused on a) not pushing the biker down the 4 foot drop off the side of the road and b) not hitting the Jeep head on in a car that didn't belong to me, that I missed Jen seeing my life flash before her eyes. After I very expertly (and almost too late) maneuvered back into my lane, Jen called and texted me to let me know we were done with this little road trip. Apparently killing your house guest is against southern custom.

Sunday night, with not a whole lot to do, Jen decided to take me to her happy place. It's a lovely farm about 20 minutes from her house with lots of horses, donkeys, llamas, and the lone pig (who looked more tasty than friendly). We thought we'd take Jen's horse, Topper, and the other, very gentle and mild mannered and well trained horse, Snoopy, could be my trusty stead for the night. Walking down toward the pasture, Jen pointed out her adopted horse and at the exact moment we watched her mild mannered boy bite the horse next door. Hard. Hmmmm...he might not be the one to ride today. Ok, instead we decide to say hey to Snoopy and maybe just ride him around the indoor ring for a little while instead. Harmless, docile little Snoopy. Jen gave me the leader line as we walked towards the ring while she carried the tack. She tied him up to a 12 foot section of heavy metal fencing in a easy release knot and said "now, if anything happens and I'm not here, just pull this end of the rope to let him go." But why would I need to know that? He's so sweet and gentle!

I went to work, brushing him down, prepping him for his saddle. I finished one side and moved to the other while telling him just how handsome he is and he's not so scary even though he's fricken huge... Next, I don't know what happened but something spooked him.

Snoopy reared up a foot from me and started thrashing around. There was no grabbing the rope - I was getting the heck outta dodge. The moment I turned around to get back, he dislodged the entire piece of fencing and hurled it around, still attached to his bridle, right behind my back close enough for me to feel the breeze. Still bucking and thrashing, he turned and took off for the pasture. About 30 feet into his escape, the leader line broke, dropping the fence just outside the building entrance, with the quick release knot still firmly in place. He didn't run far and seemed to be completely calmed down. Jen grabbed a fist full of grass, offered it up as a peace offering and grabbed a hold of his bridal to lead him calmly back to his pasture.

There would be no riding today.

Thank heavens no one was hurt - even Snoopy with his wild outburst of gentility didn't have so much as a scratch to show for the tantrum. An hour later or so, after my heart had returned to a more steady and less frantic pace, and realized I'd dodged death or at least a severe maiming a second time in two days, I wondered if it was really worth it to put my life on the line to spend time with Jen. That's an easy question - of course it's worth it - but next time I head down for a weekend, I think I'll wear a helmet.

Have a Nice Trip

Time and again, I share with people my almost stories - like the time I almost died from a scorpion sting, or when I almost made an amazing, game winning catch in a softball game, or when I almost kicked someone's butt for sitting in my seat on an airplane. The vast majority of my almost stories, however, are more focused on when, at least 3 or 4 times a week, I almost wipe out.

I've developed a bad habit of bringing up in every conversation with Curtis all my recent near misses in the world of 101 Ways Kate Can Wipe Out While Walking On Flat Ground. Once when I was walking through the lobby at work, late, in wet sneakers, I slipped on the floor and slid all the way into an open elevator door, almost taking out not just myself, but also a lawyer from my company, who happened to be carrying an extra hot venti coffee. Almost...

Tonight as I was walking over to borrow a drill from Curtis, I almost wiped out when my heel of my rather high (and hot for the record) heel wedged itself a gap in the brick sidewalk. In my stumbling and sudden halt in the forward motion I had been making, two people who had been following too close behind me almost rammed right into me. Thankfully for all of us, we all avoided the collision, I unwedged my shoe and carried on my way.

As I headed down the slope towards his condo, I remembered the stairs that were to come. They are haphazard stairs formed into the slope of a hill supposedly to look very natural and as though they were always there but what they really are is a giant safety disaster waiting to happen for anyone who is either a) not entirely sober, b) not the most stable of walkers, or most disastrously c) a combination of the two (guilty). None of these stairs are the same size, depth, or space apart. The center of each stair is brick that since it was built has now sunk into the ground and is not only not level but now has lots of little corners and pieces to trip you up constantly. Around this ankle-death trap are giant 2x4s 'framing' the brick, but not level with the brick of course, so if you don't trip on the brick, you will certainly catch a heel or toe on the wood and face-plant right into the brick. In my worst case scenario thinking mind, I immediately start thinking about how embarrassing it would be to wipe out while walking down the stairs with Curtis waiting for me at the bottom, with limbs flailing in the wind behind me.

Three stairs from the bottom, I look up to see him waiting for me, in a t-shirt and sandals, in the rain, and so I now feel compelled to hurry up so he doesn't have to stand out in the rain any longer than necessary. In my rush, I almost wipe out on a step. I catch myself just barely, take a deep breath, and pray he did not just see that, please he did not just see that oh goodness, please no.

When I caught up with him, he remarks how successful and uneventful his run in the rain was without any near misses or wipe outs on his part. I tell him as we walk towards his little gate house thing about how he nearly just saw me wipe out on the stairs (he hadn't noticed), and how I also had a near miss when my heel was stuck in the brick by the metro, but made it unscathed. He laughed and commented for as many stories as he's heard about me almost wiping out, he's never seen me anywhere near even a mild disaster and isn't entirely convinced any of it really happens.

...he just had to say that.

As we walked into the gate house area, I had only about 16 stairs to make it back down to level ground. I had come over after work and thus still had my work clothes on, which today meant my brown trousers, 2 sizes too big, and now too long, even with heels on. These pants are a little wide legged and also have large cuffs at the bottom. My heels (the hot ones previously mentioned) are very adorable pointed toe shoes with a 2.5ish inch heel - a very narrow, sharp, easy-to-trip-on, heel.

I started down the stairs, not holding on the railing, as I had a bag and purse in one hand and I was using the other to explain something that at the time was v v important. 3 steps from the bottom, my left leg goes toward the next stair but my left heel finds my right pant leg cuff instead. I'm making a forward motion; I can't stop. And there's only one thing to do - jump.

I push off with my right leg (a mere 5 feet in front of me is a giant brick wall and 7 feet to my left is a nice short flight of stairs I could fall down while I'm at it) while my left foot is very much stuck in my pants and leap towards my very probable broken ankle. 2 thoughts are running through my mind - 1. this is not going to end well and 2. I can't ruin these pants - they were too expensive! why did I ever spend this much money on pants I will just end up destroying falling down an elevator shaft or in front of a metro car, or maybe tripping on perfectly dry and evenly spaced stairs in front of Curtis!!! With nothing else to do but try for the impossible, I pull off an amazingly spectacular acrobatic feat of pulling my left heel out of my pants, maneuvering both feet under me, and sticking the landing. In heels. Without ruining my pants, breaking a heel, ankle, or anything but a little piece of pride that I've made it three months without falling like a total idiot in front of Curtis.

Curtis rushed down the last few stairs to quickly grab my arm and survey the damage, fully expecting broken, or at least very sprained, ankles, feet, legs, mangled flesh, etc.

"Holy Crap! Are you okay?"

"yup."

"That scared the crap out of me!"

"yup."

"You're sure you're okay?"

"yup. but now you know, I'm really not making up all this falling down crap."

"Yeah, no kidding."

Had a nice trip. See ya next fall.

Memories from Richmond

10 things from my weekend in Richmond:

1. Jen makes 20-whatever look fun. Why am I so freaked out by birthdays? Clearly for no reason, as she rocked hers out.


2. Life in a convertible is better than life in any other car. Unless of course your convertible has no top and its raining. Then I imagine life in a convertible is like life aquatic. Thankfully, we did not experience that this weekend. I even ended up with a little sun burn.

3. I have a new found...tolerance...for zombies. I hate zombie movies. I am bothered by people who like Zombie movies. But I thought I would open my mind to new experiences and went on a Zombie walk. It was hilarious. SO hilarious. And then we walked by a guy who's comment, while watching a couple hundred Zombies walk by was "boy am I glad I just finished reading the Zombie Survival Guide - otherwise this would make me really nervous." Seriously. ZOMBIES AREN'T REAL. Dosh.

4. I like bacon. A lot. Especially when other people make it for me and get the thick sliced kind. It was almost like it was my birthday it was so good. YUM.

5. We attempted to scare the crap out of Jen by banging on windows, ringing door bells, and generally being hooligans. Steve was a little worried the neighbors across the street might by NRA folks with loaded shotguns pointed out the windows on their 'neighborhood watch' of Scarsborough Dr. Thankfully their neighborhood watch is very very ineffective and our scare tactics went off without a hitch, until Jen caught sight of Steve frolicking around the side of her house. Next time we'll be in better stealth mode. With wigs and everything.

6. Jen and I discovered the best hang over cure: soft leather couches + blankets + the best movie ever. Worked like a charm... well, at least for me.

7. Sometimes your friends know you so well, you are overwhelmed with how similar presents are from them. Case in Point: Jen's shirt from Steve - 'Morally Corrupt' Jen's gift from Kate - 'The Book of Vices: Very Naughty Things and How to Do Them'

8. I got bit/stung/attacked by a spider while taking this photo with Jen. And almost died from a bug bite. Again. But I survived to see another day. I guess having my arm cut off would be a better end to this story. Maybe next time...


9. My camera almost didn't make it through the weekend. Less than 12 hours into the time in Richmond, the camera went AWOL. I think it knew pictures like this were about to be captured and it was afraid of breaking under the pressure.
10. And last, but certainly not least, Jen and I met Wally Shawn. AMAZING. Although I wouldn't categorize him as 'charming' or 'polite' or 'touched and amazed that two hot (if not slightly hung over - we couldn't have even bought brandy) women knew who he was and would fawn over him all day even if he was out for brunch in sweat pants' -- it was still a brush with fame I won't soon forget. Inconceivable!