Wednesday, September 26, 2012


Here is my story....

A little over a month ago I went out for a fun night with my girlfriends.
I went out for a fun night with my girlfriends and I ended up being pulled into a dark room behind a bar where I was violently sexually assaulted.
There's another word for it.


I was raped.

My friends and I got dressed up in sparkles and frills and went party-hopping. We gossiped. We laughed. We had a great time. We ended up at a local bar where we stayed for hours. We didn't notice the time passing; we were having too much fun.
Eventually we were the only people left in the bar. Eventually my friends went to the bathroom. Eventually it was just me and the bartender.
Eventually he kissed me.

And then he grabbed at me and I gasped in surprise and pain. He pulled me into that back room and violated me.

It all happened so fast, I don't even remember thinking. I do remember the blood.

It happened so fast that my friends didn't even know anything was wrong. I was gone for less than 15 minutes and came back bloody, disoriented, and hysterical. I called out for Jenny and Briya and they came to me, wide-eyed and horrified and asking what had happened. I shook my head and grabbed a wad of napkins and ran up the stairs to the street. We ended up at the deli, because that's where we had been planning to go, and because apparently when my brain shuts off one of my coping mechanisms is sticking to the original plan? I don't know. Anyhow. We sat in the deli and I intermittently cried and apologized for being so dramatic.

I actually have a photo of what I looked like after it happened. I made Jenny take it because I was in such disbelief that I needed something tangible to look at that correlated with how I felt.
We left the deli. I screamed and cried on the street corner. My friends held me. They asked me if I wanted to go to the police or the hospital. No, I shrieked, I just wanted to take a shower and catch our flight home.

Yes. I know you're not supposed to take a shower.

But it was the only thing I could possibly do. I felt dirty and angry and guilty and crying crying all the while crying. Plus, I think my friends realized that the only way I would go to the police or to the hospital or anything at all besides GETTING IN THE SHOWER would be if they forced me, and I'm pretty sure no one was in the mood to force me to do anything at that point.

We got back to the hotel room. I peeled off what was left of my clothes. Briya stayed in the bathroom while I showered. Jenny woke up Lora, Molly, and Amber, and rearranged the beds so that I had a space snuggled in the middle. I put on my jammies, got into bed, and announced to the room that I was sorry, but no one could go to sleep "You guys can't leave me. PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME." And then I proceeded to have a meltdown. I was crying and shaking and wringing my hands and yanking my hair.

I couldn't calm down or sit still. I was beyond hysterical. I remember feeling so upset but also so horribly guilty. "You guys have to believe me, I'm not making this up!" I remember crying out over and over. None of them thought I was making it up. None of them accused me of lying or embellishing the truth. They held me and comforted me. But I still felt so ashamed. Like I had somehow gotten myself into that situation. Or, even worse, that it hadn't actually happened at all and I was just being dramatic or making things up in my imagination. I clutched my head and pulled my hair and tried to shake loose some internal THING that would make sense of all this.

Somehow I managed to get on a flight home. Somehow I drove back to my house. My friends convinced me to go to the hospital and figured out where I had to go. Jessica came with me. We waited for hours and hours. Both of our phones died. We played endless games of "I'm thinking of something" and flew my rape pamphlet around like a bird. We may have become a bit delirious at around hour four.
They finally took me upstairs where I had to tell my story and be examined.
I was given painkillers and antianxiety medications.
I was given STD prophylactic antibiotics.
I was also given antiretrovirals because there was so much blood they said there was no way to know if it was all mine. I had lots of blood tests. They're all fine, so far.

I spent the week curled up on my couch and snuggled in bed and eating whenever somebody brought me food.
I stopped sleeping.
I cried. Oh, how I cried.

I kept asking myself how this had happened, what I had done wrong.

I became irritable and angry and sad and had an incredibly short fuse. I had mean outbursts at my family members and friends. I collapsed into inconsolable tears because I dropped my new camera in the dirt. I lay on the floor crying crying incapable of getting up. I became angry at myself because why couldn't I fixate my feelings onto the THING that happened to me, why did I have to get upset about everything else? It felt like I was perpetually operating at maximum capacity and if there was A SINGLE THING MORE I would fall to pieces.

I went to therapy.

I started taking medication. To lengthen my fuse, so to speak.

I wrote vague tweets about how upset I was and sent tons of middle of the night texts.

I received care packages and notes and cards and texts and love love so much love.

Gradually, so gradually that I don't even know that I noticed it at the time, I started to heal.
I worked. I hung out with friends. I therapized and processed. I spent a lot of time in various hospitals.

I had my police interview a few days ago. It was horrible.
They asked me what I wore that night from my earrings down to my shoes. They asked my friends if I'm a risk taker and if I "do this often." They asked what substances I had been on. They asked when the last time I had had sex before the incident. They made me tell the story from the moment I decided to go on my trip until I stepped off the plane back home. Then tell it again. Then write a statement. They asked doubtful questions about how much blood I was describing.
I had to hand over my dress and bra from that night as evidence. My underwear was gone.
They asked details about the night. What time was this, what time was that, where were you this, did he do that, what were you thinking at the time, what were you thinking afterward, why didn't you scream for help?
I don't remember. I don't remember. I don't remember. I don't remember. I don't remember. I don't remember.
I don't. Remember.

I had NOT wanted to go to the police. I absolutely did not. My sister had to sit down and convince me to call them and afterwards I cried and yelled at her. "You can be mad at me," she had told me. "But you have to call the police." Oh, I was mad at her.
I told the police my story over the phone. And then I told them in person. It took every ounce of courage I could muster to sit in that windowless room and describe to two men what had happened to me. I cried. But I did it. I answered all of their questions as completely and openly and honestly as I could.
They told me that these cases are difficult; that they don't usually go anywhere. But they keep the reports on file because the more women who come forward, the stronger the evidence becomes. Then asked me about my menstrual cycle.

It was humiliating. This has all been humiliating. I feel so exposed (says the girl telling her story on the internet).

The thing is, I know I had probably the best of circumstances.
I had a supportive group of friends and witnesses who were willing to put their lives on hold and travel to testify. I had an advocate who agreed to work on a Saturday in order to be with me during the proceedings. I had a detective who was actually pretty nice and said things like "I'm on your side," and "You did the right thing coming forward."
Bigger than that, I have a life full of kind people. A loving, unwavering family. Kind, loyal, generous friends. The outpouring of love and support I have received these past few weeks has left me breathless at times.
And I STILL barely survived this. I barely AM surviving this.

I have had my share of people saying terrible things.
Was he cute? Were you flirting?
What were you wearing? Were you drunk?
How did you get into that situation? It couldn't have been in full view of the bar.
How did it happen? You must have liked him at some point.

As if any of that matters. As if something that I did made this happen.

In case any of you thought that victim-shaming was a thing of the past, I am here to tell you that it is alive and well!
Oh, I went out that night in a short skirt and got far too inebriated. I laughed and smiled and twirled my hair and flirted.
And after it happened I felt tremendously guilty. How had I let this happen? What had I done? Why didn't I push him away harder? Why didn't I fight more? What would people think of me? WHAT had even happened in that little room?

It has taken the unyielding support of my friends, the unwavering love and consistency of my family, therapy, medications, and meetings with advocates and counselors to help me realize:

I was raped. And it was not my fault.

I told my story to my therapist; she suggested that I do that so that I could have and emotional release and fixate my feelings onto the actual event and not on everything else.
I told my story to an advocate from a local organization; she helped me pick apart the things I was obsessing over and realize they didn't make the incident my fault.
I told my story to my friends, the ones who asked. And some who didn't.
I told parts of the story to my family, too much of it would be too painful for them.
I told my story to the police, as much as it took out of me.

And now I'm telling you.

I'm telling you because I think I might be strong enough to share it now.
And I'm telling you because how many women go through this? It breaks my heart to think of the ones who are alone, who don't have supportive friends or families, who are doubted and flat-out accused of lying when they tell their stories, who are shamed by police or medical professionals or even their friends.
I am telling you my story for me, because I want you to know me. And, not to get all cliche on you, but I'm also telling it for all women.
Because for all of us to take a step in this world, one of us has to leap.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Deep Breath

Here is where I take a deep breath and put some space between my last post and my next. Because what I am about to tell you will take a lot out of me.

I haven't signed on here in over a month. A lot has happened, though things look pretty much the same around here. I look pretty much the same. But I feel completely different.

I hope you will read with an open mind and a kind heart. I want to have the strength to tell you my story.

Because I'm going to. Soon.

Sunday, July 15, 2012


I have crossed off a few more items from my Birthday Scavenger Hunt!

16. read a book- I zoomed through Ready Player One and thoroughly enjoyed it. It was perfect for airport/plane reading, as well as staying up too late on a school night reading.

17. go out on the town with my ladies
23. make plans to go to at least one USC football game this year- 9/22 vs Cal. Gotta buy my plane ticket, but I have a place to stay and a friend with whom to go-- my old roomie of 4 years. Here's a throwback pic of us:
On the fountain run. A grand USC tradition.
21. make plans to visit my sisters- My mom bought me a plane ticket so that now for my actual birthday weekend, I can do my patented get-the-hell-out-of-town maneuver. Much like Valentine's day. And I have very fond memories of visiting my sister for what ended up being about two weeks around Valentine's day. I did a lot of lounging, hanging out with my nieces, going out to lunch with my sister, taking baths, reading, going to Target, wearing lounge pants, and other things I love to do. Her house feels like a home away from home. Or, more precisely, a my-parents'-house away from home.

8. drink a glass bottle Pepsi
2. eat at Hector's

18. hold my baby niece
19. use my new hair ribbons

Monday, July 2, 2012

Weekend of Scavenging

This past weekend I crossed off a whopping SEVEN items from my Birthday Scavenger Hunt! I was fortunate enough to have some friends with me who were game to help me out, or perhaps also just enjoyed the types of things I had on my list.

29. go on a nice long walk
Jenny and I channeled our younger, poorer, stubborner selves for this one. Back a number of years ago, when I used to live in LA, would get gussied up to go out on the town in our tastefully(?) skimpy clothes (LA IS HOT) and teetery high heels and walk walk walk walk walk to and/or from our clubbing destination. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
So, this weekend, when there were no cabs to be had, we took a stroll. It worked for us then, so why not now?
We also found a leaning post.
(Whenever I lean against, oh, ANYTHING AT ALL, I can't help but think/say "That is a leaning post!" (I don't know why the video is weirdly cropped)).

14. hangover Panda Express
Yep. Looks about right.
We discovered that the San Bruno mall is a weird parallel universe of a place where the air outside smells like tomatoes and you can run all of your errands. I got new long enough scrub pants, and a set of spare keys made, and some new brars, and an eyeliner (from the Sephora INSIDE the JC Penny) and we ran out of time before we could even get to Target. I sort of think I'll try to go back there sometime and it just... won't be there.

15. eat a mall pretzel
A lot of my goals involve food. Mall pretzels are my favorite snack food.

10. go in a hot tub
(Time Machine)
The ethereal glow is the plastic bag wrapping my phone. Oh, and also our effervescent charisma.

27. wear one of my new rings
My mom gave me some new old rings when we went through the fancy jewelry:
Left to right: my grandmother's shamrock, my mom's opal, my great grandmother's onyx, my grandmother's peridot. I know I can't wear them all at once, but I really enjoyed trying them all on. It made me feel a bit like ol' PJ:
 Anyhow, I wore this one to a party:
Isn't it pretty?

3. eat at Zabu Zabu
This place is a Japanese barbecue restaurant where if you pay $20 cash they will bring you platters of vegetables and meat as far as the eye can see, but my real addiction is the noodles.
So many noodles.
I am more posed than Jessica, but no less awkward. We stuffed ourselves, waddled on out of there, and managed to squeez in one last scavenger hunt item....

4. go to Target
Two words.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

75. make sure my nieces know basic self defense

Um. CHECK. Don't mess with these gals.

I didn't cross this off my list before because technically they took a mixed martial arts class, not an actual self defense class, so I wasn't sure it counted. That right there should illustrate just how boxed in I felt by the 'life list' rules. The scavenger hunt idea has already paid off in spades.
And, oh hey! This also takes care of item 24 on my Birthday Scavenger Hunt. See what I did there? It's a scavenger hunt WITHIN a scavenger hunt for ultimate Inception-style mind melting potential.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Birthday Scavenger Hunt

So. I'm turning thirty. In one month precisely. And I get that whole thing where people aren't supposed to care because what's the big deal? It's supposed to be one of those things that Society makes people feel like is this Important Milestone but in actual fact no one bats an eye because tra la la my life is just so fabulous; I'm too busy being me to stop and worry about what age I am!
Baloney, says I.
I've written this before: I thought I would be married in my early twenties. I was CERTAIN I would have kids by now. And I don't. And that makes me sad. I don't have the major things I wanted to have before I was thirty. And now thirty is within spitting distance. And that sucks.
I'm happy, generally. I have a terrific family, lovely friends, a great job, and a nice home. But I'm starting to feel like the Universe is playing some kind of prank on me because, I'm not even exaggerating, my last two dates were as follows:
- A guy I went out with twice who drunk dialed me, texted me seven times to explain the drunk dialing, and then, when I sent him a gentle 'hey this isn't going to work, I think you might be a little intense for me' text, texted me twenty five more times AND insisted we speak on the phone so that he could explain to me FOR AN HOUR that he was NOT, in fact, intense.
- A guy who brought me a painting and then asked me to shave his back.
Seriously, Universe. You're just fucking with me now, aren't you?

ANYHOW. My point! I shall make it. And it will tie in with the title of this post.
Basically, I was thinking about my life list the other day and how having those little accomplishments on a tidy list is nice and how it is a nice list of things I want to do. But it also kind of makes me feel kind of meh to have a big list of goals that I'm nowhere near to finishing and what if I DON'T do something on the list and I miss the opportunity and it's gone forever and GAH it's on my LIST and it's so STRINGENT and whatever shall I do? So I've decided that a better term for my list is a Life Scavenger Hunt. Because if I find the opportunity to cross the things off, great! If I don't? No big. If I want to substitute an item for another something because that's what feels more right in that moment? Works for me. And if I reinterpret something I have listed in order to fit in a fun, noteworthy experience? Still counts!
I think this is more appropriate. That list has remained essentially unchanged since the day I wrote it, two years ago. And now that I'm feeling cranky and aged, it's high time I changed the rules to accommodate myself and my crank and my age.
IN THAT VEIN, I hereby propose a thirty item list of things I would like to do before my thirtieth birthday. I'm turning thirty, and BY GOD I'm going to force a celebration out of it.
So here is my Celebratory Thirtieth Birthday Scavenger Hunt. You'll notice that it is chock full of rather small, attainable goals, meant to remind me to live like this whole month is be a celebration, even though I might want to draw the curtains and have a nice long weep about how I'm not achieving the things I really WANT and slouching toward my eventual grave, because I WILL squeeze some good feelings out of this birthday, so help me.
Birthday Scavenger Hunt
1. eat at Palapas
2. eat at Hector's
3. eat at Zabu Zabu
4. go to Target
5. go for a drive with my dad
6. flea market
7. see a movie
8. drink a glass bottle Pepsi
9. roller skate
10. go in a hot tub
11. get a haircut
12. get a pedicure
13. give away a bag of stuff to Goodwill
14. hangover Panda Express
15. eat a mall pretzel
16. read a book
17. go out on the town with my ladies
18. hold my baby niece
19. use my new hair ribbons
20. make plans to have my older nieces come visit me
21. make plans to visit my sisters
22. make plans to visit D in Oregon.
23. make plans to go to at least one USC football game this year
24. cross off an item from my Life Scavenger Hunt
25. run on the treadmill
26. make candied maple walnuts and bring them into work
27. wear one of my new rings
28. blog
29. go on a nice long walk
30. lounge
*Items may be substituted at any time, without notice.

Let the scavenge begin.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Grandfather Clock

I went to a barn sale a few months ago, which is sort of like a yard sale, only all the stuff has all been stored in a barn for a long long time.

And I bought this beauty:
Oh that? Is a life-size grandfather clock latch hook rug that someone obviously spent a heck of a long time making. I fished it out of a heap of stuff in the "Fill a box for $5" section of the sale.
And then I spent, erm, too much money having it framed:
And the other day I hung it up in my entryway:
As a sidenote, how 'bout my wee entryway? Do you see why when people ask me where the bathroom is, I tell them "Well, it's the only door in the apartment that doesn't lead to the hall."
Now I have a grandfather clock in my entryway, in the most ridiculous, kitschy, tacky way there possibly is to have a grandfather clock in one's entryway. And that just tickles me.
I love my new decorative piece; it really is timeless. ZING.

Monday, May 21, 2012

Things That are Awesome, An Incomplete List

1. My ten year old niece. Who got in trouble at school for saying the word "dude." A boy in her class was picking on her so she turned around and just said "DUDE!" and the yard teacher benched her. So, basically, my niece is badass.

2. My new piece of art that I found at a flea market for ten bucks. It's a painting of a turquoise antelope on a piece of copper. Hello new focal point for my kitchen shelves.

3. Also in the photo above-- that BOWL. I've had it for a few years, but recently zenned it into a key/things from my pockets receptacle. I used to lose my keys on a fairly regular basis amongst the random assortment of things that tend to accumulate on the couch, the table, or the kitchen counter. I think I've finally bested them. WHAT NOW, KEYS?

4. The following underused words, which I am reintroducing to my vocabulary:
Donkey- As in, "Quit being such a fucking donkey."
Bozo- As in, "Quit standing there like a goddamn bozo."
Buttocks (Pronounced like butticks)- As in, "I dislike it when gentlemen at the club fondle my buttocks without permission."

5. Being on the phone with Jenny after Gabriel's bedtime. You get to hear her shout thinks like:
"No, I don't believe that you need to go to the bathroom. Because you've gone to the bathroom three times in the past twenty minutes. Unless you have a urinary tract infection you do not have to pee again. What's that? You managed to squeeze out four more drops of pee? CONGRATULATIONS."
And: "No! I'm not telling you how to spell any more words! It's p-o-l-i-c-e! No! Not again! Sound it out!"

6. Those twirly bobby pin things that ACTUALLY DO hold my hair up and out of my face all day long.

7. Texts from my dad.

Monday, April 30, 2012

The Lie of Omission

I hate lying. Well, more specifically, I hate being lied to. I hate it when lies affect my life. I hesitate to choose one particular form of lying over another as my most abhorred, but if I were forced to pick I would probably say The Lie of Omission.

One of the biggest fights KC and I got into before we broke up was an epic battle over him wanting to hang out with his ex girlfriend. I actually wrote a sulky, emo post about it at the time. Ugh. Makes me queasy just rereading it. I remember how hurt and upset I was, and also how confused and embarrassed I felt because I just couldn't figure out WHY I had such a huge problem with it. KC was discussing it with me before he hung out with her, so what the hell was my deal? Like most of my emotional issues, I assumed it had something to do with my Crazy Ex. After you're with someone like that train wreck into crazytown, I think it can be particularly difficult to distinguish what are actual Valid Concerns and what is related to having PTSD from dating an emotionally abusive sociopath.

I was uncomfortable with the idea of KC spending time with his ex girlfriend. I tried to talk to him about it, and he got angry and accused me of not trusting him. Then he revealed that while she was in town, his ex girlfriend and had an "extra ticket" to a show on Saturday night and wanted him to go with her. And, by the way, he had been talking to her on the phone regularly and hadn't told me because he knew it was upset me.

And then I was like woah woah pump yo brakes, dude. Because THAT RIGHT THERE is exactly why I HATE HATE HATE The Lie of Omission. He didn't bring up the fact that he was doing something that would upset me because... he knew it would upset me. Here I was, puttering along, thinking we had an open, honest relationship, and KC was actively keeping something from me-- something that he thought would upset me. Whether or not the thing being kept from me WOULD HAVE upset me becomes irrelevant at this point, because I will always always ALWAYS be seventy six GABILLION more times upset when I discover that I was lied to about something and then found out the truth later.

KC's response? "Well, you never asked."

Which brings me to my point, four hundred words in: The Lie of Omission is a sneaky, manipulative lie.

The Lie of Omission turns the tables and makes you feel like it was somehow YOUR fault for not asking the SPECIFIC QUESTION that would bring it to light. The burden of truth is shifted to the LIEE instead of the LIAR. Apparently it was MY responsibility to ASK KC, "Hey, any chance you've been chatting with your ex girlfriend recently?" I CALL SHENANIGANS.

I'm going to be thirty this year, and it has taken me THIS LONG to pinpoint exactly what bothers me about The Lie of Omission. And yet I have been omission lied to for so many BIG DEALS, that now I have a categorically insane list of questions I feel like I have to ask any guy I date:
Are you married?
Have you ever been married?
Do you have a girlfriend?
Do you have a job?
Are you homeless?
Do you have any kids?
Is there a lady out there currently pregnant with your child?

Most guys look at me pretty strangely when I come out straight out gate with that litany of queries. But trust me, it wouldn't be on my list IF IT HAD NOT HAPPENED.

I dated my Crazy Ex for a FULL MONTH before he told me he had a two year old child. I didn't find out that he was married (and cheating on his wife) when we first met until after we broke up (and they were divorced).
I had another dude tell me he didn't have any kids, and two weeks later I found out that he had a pregnant ex girlfriend.
His excuse? "Well, you didn't ask."

And this past weekend, apparently I made another grievous error. I went out to a club with my lovely lady friends, we ended up joining in with some gentlemen there for a dude's bachelor party. There was one guy in particular who spent the entire evening flirting with me, dancing with me, and generally being rather touchy-feely. At the end of the night, he said "Yeah, sorry you got the wrong impression, but I'm engaged." Not sorry IF you got the wrong impression, sorry YOU GOT the wrong impression. Burden of truth: SHIFTED TO ME. Silly little woman, you thought the dude trying to rub his body all over you was available? Tsk tsk.

I told the dude "Hey, if you're engaged, you might not want to grind up on girls at the club. Just an idea [sarcastic jazz hands]. Also, I feel kind of sorry for your fiance." And then I tossed my hair and got the hell out of there before I burst into furious tears. I felt embarrassed and angry and like I had made a huge error in judgment. But then my friends assured me that, no, our flirtation WAS NOT all in my head. I had witnesses to the fact that he had been CLEARLY pursuing me and chatting me up. AND, I remembered later, when the DJ said "All the single people put ya hands up!" HE PUT HIS HANDS UP.

But his douchey "Sorry you got the wrong impression" comment had made me feel like it was somehow MY FAULT that I didn't know he was engaged. Because The Lie of Omission is sneaky and manipulative.

Are you engaged? has now been added to my list of questions. Because I don't care how ridiculous I'm going to appear as long as it means that I have some defense against The Lie of Omission. There won't be another "Well, you didn't ask" situation if I can help it. So help me, I WILL ASK.
Because the best defense against manipulative douchebaggery? Being one step ahead of the douchebags.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Potpourri: Recently

Today marks one month since I started my new job. And can I just point out that from an external perspective of someone who perhaps doesn't know me that well or read my blog, it might appear that I graduated, took my test, and WHABAM had a job within days. I'm thinking of reframing my memories and living in THAT reality. Because I am still pretty excited that I have this job.
This is my last week of training before I go solo with my responsibilities next week. I am nervous. I told my sister that and she said "Eh, don't worry. In six months you'll feel like you've been there your whole life."
Thankssss.... ?
I really like my job, so far. There are some quirky things about it that I particularly enjoy and since I'm not going to talk about my patients (hi HIPAA!), I'll share them:
- You can't eat anywhere except the conference room and there are usually people working or having a meeting in there. So a couple times a day I open the door, step in and stand there awkwardly eating my emergencheese (the cheese sticks I carry in my pockets for emergencies. GET IT? Emergencheese for emergencies!). People sometimes ask "Uh. Did you need something?"
- There is a passcoded, locked door that opens to, no joke, a six foot drop into the street. It's not a loading dock. It's not an exit. Or, at least it's not an exit NOW. It might have been one at some point when they were planning to build stairs.
- My office is the size of a stall shower. I actually like it. It's more of a nook. It doesn't have a door. With a six foot drop or otherwise.


I went to Hawaii. HOT TIP: If your best friend says "Hey, I wanna go to Hawaii in March. You should come." You really should. Evidence:
The cool thing about the time difference is getting to the beach at 7AM when it is EMPTY.
We are SERIOUS about our sun protection. I don't stay this lily white by accident.
Gabey liked the pool best.
We snorkeled. I had to forcefully talk myself down from having a panic attack because SNORKELING IS FUCKING SCARY what with all the listening to my own heavy loud breathing and seeing the sandbar drop off into giant chasms and having to adjust my mask in the open ocean and swim back to shore AGAINST THE TIDE.
We got the feeling that people thought we were a couple on vacation with our adopted son. Because the first thing you think when you see two women and one kid together is never, 'Ah. They must be friends.'
I found a flower THE SIZE OF MY HEAD.
We swam, we lounged about, we got lost in our books, we loosely supervised Gabriel at the pool while he made friends with other kids and turned into a fish, we had fancy drinkies, we ate lots of chips and salsa.

I'd say that about sums it up.


Last weekend somebody asked me what I would buy if I had $500 to spend at Target. "Only at Target, though." he stipulated, as if that might slow me down. "Groceries!" I said, "New sheets! Nice towels! Bins for organizing my things! Packing tape! Wait... this makes me sound really boring. I don't care! Laundry detergent!" Best game ever.


Unrelated to any of the above: I bought myself a jackelope for Easter.
I got it from a flea market! Just kidding. It's from Modcloth. Sigh. That would have been the MOTHER of all flea market finds, wouldn't it?


I've found that I can basically get one productive task done per day after I get home from work. One day is cooking. One day is laundry. One day is vacuuming. One day is paying bills. One day is buying groceries. Today's task was blogging.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Throwback(?) Accent Vlog

(Sometimes I say words a certain way because it's fun.)
Regional Dialect Video Meme
Say these words: Aunt, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught
Now answer these questions:
• What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
• What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball?
• What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
• What do you call gym shoes?
• What do you say to address a group of people?
• What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
• What do you call your grandparents?
• What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
• What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
• What is the thing you change the TV channel with?

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Worky Weeky

First week at work and GAH. Work is hard! Not just the work itself. But it's been about four years since I had one of these all day every day full time all year long jobbers and, oof, it is taking some getting used to.
I am the tired.
I don't know how you people do it.
That's right, I said 'you people.' What of it?

So uh. How's about I just post some photos of the outfits I've worn this week and we call it a post?

Pants: Uhh Ross maybe? Or maybe a thrift store ages ago? Can't remember. Shirt: Marshalls. Cardigan: Target. Scarf: Timberland. Glasses: Zenni Optical.
Monday was Orientation day, in the main building of the Large Institution that umbrellas my Smallish Clinic. I was orienting with a whole crew of new employees, some medical, some not. So it was a lot of general information about policies and HIPAA and unions and safety. And they gave me a gym bag.

Pants: Marshalls. Shirt: Marshalls. Cardigan: Target.
Tuesday was my first day in my actual clinic. I wore the same cardigan as Monday, because apparently I have a cardigan hole in my worky wardrobe. I also wore the COMFIEST SHIRT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. It is loose and flowy and would be perfect for concealing the early stages of a pregnancy, should I ever have that need. On Tuesday it just concealed the early stages of eating too much.

Tuesday was also the day I learned that my clinic isn't as strict about certain things as the emails might have led me to believe. While the Large Institution has very specific dress policies, apparently at my clinic I can decide if I want to wear scrubs or businessy clothes. And they're not in a huge hurry to get me the uniform scrubs, so I can just wear the ones I have for now, if I want. I can also combine my break time and my lunch time into a sinfully long forty five minute stretch.

Pants: Marshalls. Shirt: Marshalls. Cardigan: Marshalls. Sponsor of this post: Sadly not Marshalls.
I made Wednesday's pic a full-lengther so you can appreciate my shoes. I guess they maybe don't look as cute as they are in person, but they are indeed nice looking. And their nice-lookingness is also accentuated by how ridiculously comfortable they are. Ridiculously comfortable. They're also the perfect height, both in terms of heel (not TOO high, because come on), and in terms of, uh, whatever you call the top of your boots? They cover my ankles entirely and you can't see my socks, even when I sit down and cross my legs (this is a huge plus for the gal who likes to wear white athletic socks with everything). They're Aerosoles 'Motorcar' boots and I can't be bothered right now to find a link for them, but I bought them online and they are on sale now.

Today (Thursday):
Scrub pants: Dickies from some scrub store. Scrub top: Thrift Town. Thermal: Target. Sad-looking kitty: Bowie.
Yeah. I gave up on the whole businesswear business. Totally overrated.

Tomorrow: Purple Scrubs.
Also: Galoshes.
It has been rainy this whole week, which was fine when I was wearing my businessy clothes and Motorcars, but not so fine when I decided to wear my scrubs. So I wore my galoshes for the tromping through the rain from my car to work and then switcherooed into my sneakies. It was kind of annoying to carry something in addition to my purse, my satchel of important paperwork, and my lunch bag, so tomorrow I'm going to do the same thing, but this time bring my all the crazap I need to carry in my NEW GYM BAG. I need to start calling it something else, though.... Sneaker Bag? Worky Bag? I don't want people getting the wrong impression that I actually use the gym bag for the GYM. Just like I don't wear Yoga Pants, I wear Lounge Pants or Apartment Pants, lest I give anyone the mistaken impression that I actually do yoga in them.

Thursday, March 8, 2012


In celebration/preparation for my new job, I went out and bought some new professionalish worky clothes. I figured that I would probably be wearing business casual plus a lab coat to work since that was what I had worn in most of my clinicals.
And then I found out that I'm actually going to be wearing scrubs to work.
So I went out and bought some cute new scrub tops... and then I found out that actually my workplace will be providing me with 5 sets of scrubs when I start and I'll have a 'scrub allowance' each year. Perhaps I need to quit going out and buying stuff before I have all the information, but, really, is that any way to live?
I was a teensy bit bummed at first, but I've made my peace with the idea of essentially wearing pajamas to work every day. And if I'm ever feeling like I want to dress things up a little I can always wear cute shoes or fun glasses. Plus, full disclosure, the new scrub tops that I bought were actually from the thrift store and only $3 each, so it wasn't a huge loss. I'll keep them, because I might need them someday.
AND I won't have my new scrubs for at least the first couple of days at work so I AM going to wear my new professionalish clothes on those days. Which means they're basically paying for themselves, or at least that's what I'm telling myself.


I also bought a new hat. I LOVE how it looks on my accessories shelf:


I also bought a new wireless mouse. On a related note, can somebody come over and make my wireless mouse talk to my computer? I've gone as far as I can in terms of following the directions, and now I'm stumped and they're still not speaking.


After leaving my recent clothing purchases on the table for about a week, I decided that it was time to make some room in the closet by culling my pantular wardobe. I've been going through and getting rid of all the pants that refuse to zip and fit me like this:
There are a lot of them. Apparently it's been awhile since I've needed new worky pants.


Also in the spirit of doing things I've been putting off and soon might not have time for, I got a haircut. I went to the esthetics and cosmetology school because it is only $25 and I had been before and liked it. And they didn't shame me when they found out that I hadn't gotten a haircut since last January.
Here's the before:
And after:
Yeahh, I guess it doesn't look like a HUGE difference. Mainly the bottom picture just looks like my hair has been combed. You'll have to trust me that they took off about 4 inches and I'm feeling rather lightheaded now. Literally, I mean: my head feels lighter.


My pre-employment chest X ray (which I had to get to prove that I don't have TB) said that my heart is "unremarkable." RESPECTFULLY SIR, I DISAGREE.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012


I got a job.


I applied and had an interview and then I took (AND PASSED, ahem) my board exam and then I had a second interview and then I went out of town to visit my sister and while I was there they called and offered me the job!

I'm a little nervous to mention it on here because, as we know, I'm a tad leery of the Universe and my recent smitings. I guess that's partly why I've been hesitant to even BELIEVE that it's true. The day they called and offered it to me I told a few people and they seemed more excited than I was. Jenny actually had to talk me down off a metaphorical ledge numerous times. I kept thinking that something would happen and they'd call me back and tell me it was a mistake. And then they DID call me back and tell me that there was an issue and I felt like okay, here it comes. But then the issue turned out to be not a big deal at all and the manager was just calling to verify everything with me. And so then after I hung up with him I ran into the garage and yelled to my sister "HEY! I HAVE A JOB!" She was like, "I... I know? I've been excited all day and you haven't for some reason!"
And now my new workplace has been sending me emails and paperwork, HR has contacted me about my sign-up meeting, and I have my pre-employment health screening set for Friday. It's looking more and more real.
This is the kind of job I wanted, but almost didn't dare to hope for because the other interviews that I have had were for much less ideal situations.
It's at a small clinic that is part of a larger healthcare organization. The people who work there all seem nice. I'll have training and support and orientations and classes.
I start in March. At my job.
I need to buy some more scrubs. For my job.
I have to get a lock for my locker at work because I have a job.
A job. For me. Happy. Yes. Job.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012


Oh hai. I've been on vacation. Both literally and internettily.

I had been itching to get out of town and I had just passed my board exam, so I jumped on a cheap fare to fly out and visit my sister. I left for the airport on Valentine's Day, unintentionally dressed like a Valentine.
Not the best day for pink to be your favorite wearing-color.
I discovered that Valentine's Day is actually a great day to travel. There was barely a line at security, and I got a pat-down (which I requested instead of going through the creepy new X ray machines) from the most polite and respectful TSA agent I have ever met. The gate agents were cracking jokes over the intercom. My flight was less than half full and the flight attendants were jovial and friendly. AND I got a free drinkie, courtesy of Southwest.
Definitely a better Valentine's present than last year.
My sister picked me up at the airport with a cooler of what may or may not have been more beverages. And thus began my awesome vacation. It has been filled with... well... mostly just hanging out. I visited a couple of friends who live nearby. I read two books. My sister and I have gone to lunch and gotten pedicures.
I also helped my sister do some organizing. We bought bins at Target and sorted the downstairs closet and cleaned up the kids' rooms. Yesterday, I was helping my niece with her homework while my sister was organizing the playroom. When I came in, I found this:
My nieces don't mess around when it comes to Breyer Horses.
"Did you do that?" I asked my sister.
"Yep," she said.
"Wow," I said, examining the shelves. "Hey wait a second! You just wanted to organize the playroom so you could play with the Breyer Horses!"
"Maybe..." she said.
I was really just sorry I had missed it.

I've also gotten to spend lots of quality time with my nieces, which has been great. I've watched them at their martial arts and vaulting and riding classes (they have the coolest hobbies). We did some baking and cooking projects.

I've picked them up from school and helped them with their homework (sort of). We've cuddled up with the dogs and watched movies. I've laughed with them and given them lots of hugs and I've noticed that the more I get to hang out with my nieces, the more I realize just what interesting, funny, beautiful, creative, smart, amazing people they are.

I'm leaving tomorrow, which is fine. I'm not in a hurry to get back, but I guess my vacation has to end sometime. I've gotten to do basically everything I wanted to while I was here. I didn't want shop or go to the movies or visit the Usual Neat Places that people tend to flock to in town. I just wanted to enjoy spending time with my loved ones, being in a different environment from home, and not having to study. Check.

I also got to take a pony for a walk.
Not their pony, a pony at the barn.