anniversaries

i don't think i've really ever celebrated an anniversary of my own... i've never been the "Oh, it's been one month, or six." And i guess i have not really had the opportunity to celebrate a true milestone, 365 days, until today.

August 3rd marks my one-year anniversary with Jack. Yup, i survived --rather he survived 12 months with me.

So even though he prefers to pee on the couch or my bed when left alone for more than 5 hours and the fact that he likes to escape and will only run to strangers, we're doing alright.

Vertical vs. Horizontal Stripes

i want to help people, really i do.
You know the Jefferson Airplane song, White Rabbit:

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small

The same thing goes for stripes: Horizontal stripes make you larger.
Now, if you are a waif, this could be a good thing. But for the rest of us, looking larger isn't so desirable.

Also, not all horizontal stripes are bad. Just make sure they work before you purchase/forage out in public. Get stranger's opinions, and believe them. Stay away from stretchy, tight stripes that wrap around, uh, the more bulbous parts of your body.

The other thing about horizontal stripes is that they can make one dizzy, if they must stare at you. Again, if you want the attention, go to young gal/lad.

Vertical stripes make you longer, leaner. They are happy stripes on all shapes and sizes. A standard in happy men's button-down shirts, for example.

So please, choose your stripes carefully. Thanks.

so it happened sooner...than later

So as you might have gleaned, i'm riding my bike to work, whoo-hoo. Last week was my first full week, awesome. Everything was beautiful, until Friday morning:

Now you know these parking arm thingies like the one above, right? well, there is one at the top of the driveway into work. There is also a bike entrance, but on Friday morning a big 'ol truck was blocking bike access. The only way in was under The Arm.

So i was on the right flank of a vehicle, thinking i'd just pop in with the maroon honda. WRONG. Instead The Arm came down, like swift justice. i glimpsed it just before it dropped upon me, glancing off my left jaw, neck and collar bone. Amazingly, i kept my balance on my bike and was able to fling The Arm over my head. i did a sweep of the grounds and although there were plenty of people around, i worked with none of them, whew.

Also lucky was that the press-wood arm was cushioned a bit, by one of those water noodle toys kids play with in the pool. It seemed that a water noodle had been sliced down the middle and half used to hug the bottom portion of The Arm. Thank goodness for water noodles.

So i park my bike, laughing at my stupidity (isn't it usually our own stupidity that get us into trouble? YA.) and go to start my day. Now at this point i was unsure if i wanted to reveal to the masses about my attack with The Arm, but then something made it necessary to share: as the very edge of The Arm had scraped me, it now looked like i had a hickey at the base of my neck (i wish).

So i told the story umpteen times at work, taking on a romantic air as if The Arm was my futile enemy that attempted to unseat me from my creamsicle bicycle, ha! as if. It seemed better to make fun of myself to all than to welcome speculation if my 'scar' was the result of wrestling a vacum cleaner....

So there you have it, my first bike riding incident. Not too bad. Hopefully the only one for a long time to come, as this hickey does not seem to be going away anytime soon. Thanks.

Darn those dark-washed jeans

Super cute jeans, right? Right!

Sadly, i'm the girl that has to wear her new clothes immediately. None of this pre-wash crap! (Save the intimates, dear friends) --clothes never look so good once washed, am i right? pretty darn. So i don my spiffy new jeans and head to the office.

I have recently joined the league of those who bike to work, yeah! So this morning i go to work, it's a lovely ride, no biggie.

My ride home; it's warmer, i'm weary & wanna get home super-fast, so I pedal,pedal,pedal. I get home, get the bike into the back and, crap! i've blue crotch on my new white bike-seat.

MEH. Yes, suddenly the yummy wash of the jeans to your left bled color. Not so unusual, we're familar with this situation, right ladies? But usually it's a tint to my underwear, perhaps a slight discoloration on my leg.

Today took it to a whole new level:

New, dark-wash jeans + heat + sweat + white bike seat = blue seat.

So not fair. Sigh.