Jitterbug's Beat

Love, Food, Exercise, Football and Clothes. My Holy Cinquefoil.

Oh happy Friday, heading into a long weekend after a serious dry-spell of any time off.  Time off for some, I'm sure, means a break from it all - for me, a break from work is enough.  Any time not spent working I can spend with my great boyfriend doing anything or nothing at all, or at my great gym, taking my great classes, or on my great running trail.  Don't really need to go anywhere new or do anything crazy - just plain ol' not giving up myself to the giant work-machine will do fine.  Here's what's making me especially happy today:

 

Okay I love bagels, but those humongous family-sized dough lumps don't exactly jibe with this one-small-person-with-one-pound-left-to-lose-thing I've got going on, and I am thrilled now to be able to have my bagels AND cream cheese, and yes, you guessed it, eat them too.  The Fro Yo?  Well that just speaks for itself, does it not?

Now since the office closed early today, I got to spend my whole lunch hour in my most favorite step aerobics class with the craziest instructor I've ever loved.  She just got back from a big fitness convention in LA and brought back many new and wonderful fitness toys for us to experience.  Today we did a 20-minute interval set running from one end of the room to the other using mini inflated balls for jump squats, up-downs... I don't know if there are even words to describe some of those techniques, but I think they may have been developed as torture methods at Alcatraz.  You can just call me Kelly Stockholm Sullivan, 'cause I LOVE IT ALL, the pain, the sweat, the high!  And thanks Athleta and Nike for you're ever-wonderful gear, spokeswomen and ad campaigns.  They occupy my refrigerator door.

Next up, Fall = football.  'Nuff said.  Except that's not exactly 'nuff - with the lock out, and NO DAMN NEWS in the lock-out-off-season, I'm pretty durn (not a typo) clueless as to what's going on.  I spent some time today trying to get to know my fantasy team... a few old veterans, and a bunch of whoosy-whatsits I've never heard of.  Oh and thank you, Cedric Benson, for getting yourself thrown in jail... I know, I know,  you play for the NFL, you should be able to punch whomever you want, but life just doesn't work that way.  Apparently you're predicted to do horribly anyway.  Know what else?  Just ot add insult to injury, none of my Seahawk jerseys belong to current team members anymore.  What. Ever.

What else... oh September, beckoning fall wardrobe staples... what am I loving right now?  J Crew and Madwell, of course... what's extra sweet?  How about sizes 4 and xs??  Oh hells yeah. Dangerous, I know, but I didn't even remember how much I loved clothes until getting to a size where so much more is available to me!  Fast approaching, the lovely season of pea coats and scarves and hats and gloves and all things layered.  Pieces in every spectrum of the orange rainbow, from vibrant flame to pumpkin!  And yellow!  RED!  With all the beautiful blacks and grays, charcoals, chocolates and olives.  MMmmmnnnnn.  That's my deliciously-anticipating-fall-clothes sound.  I love the word "bundled."  

 
  

 

 

It's My Middle Name.

Was doing a little shopping today over lunch (I DO occasionally do something other than go to the gym) and while I was on the phone placing a store order, I was reading off my information to a polite, but rather dry, humorless phone attendant... 

"Name as it appears on the card?"

"Kelly A. Sullivan"

"And that's middle initial A as in Awesome?"

What's that you say?  A as in Awesome?  Why... yes, yes that's exactly right.  Awesome.  

I like to move it move it.

Okay now in actuality, I do not like to move it-move it, but with life comes change, with change comes the packing of boxes and hauling of crap.  Moving plus procrastination likely means we'll be renting a U-Haul truck this weekend and making one big well... haul... of it.  I have great friends who have offered to help, and I can't do it - I hate moving and I can't bring myself to make others suffer with me.  Now this move will be especially exciting, and challenging, because I get to learn how to live and play nice with another - another who I love very, very much.  Exciting, no?  I'm ready.  The future is wide open.

Despite having a million and one things to do right now, I have to say, I just found out that the Borders Books downtown is closing.  I'm terribly vexed.  They send out coupons, a lot, and every time they do, off I go to buy a book.  With coupons, without coupons, with a book in mind, with nothing more focused to do on my lunch hour, I go to the book store in search of anything, nothing, whatever.  I heart it there.  And I will miss it terribly.  Sorry Portland, I know you're all about Powells, but quite frankly, I remain unimpressed. Everything I've been looking for there in the last year has only turned up brand new full price copies, and I never have coupons there!  Now the computer-age...  I know it's not personal, and I know the idea of having a new book in an instant is great, but I have to slightly lament the creation of the Kindle... I want to hold my books, smell them, feel their weight, get ink on my thumb for propping it in one place too long when I'm especially engrossed.  Many believe that the publishing of books with pages and covers and spines will vanish in this lifetime.  Well, fellow enthusiasts, not in my house.  I will not go gentle into that good night.

Gotta go.  Boxes beckon.  Mostly boxes full of books.

Sophisticated Communications.

My boyfriend sent me his Christmas wish list:

Steel Drum
Banjo
BBQ Grill

I revised it and sent this back:

Steel Drum
Banjo
BBQ Grill

He revised it again:
 

 
 

Great Stuff From Mom

My mom always sends me great random articles from her Guideposts book and from church bulletins... here's what she sent me today:

A turkey was chatting with a bull.  "I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree," sighed the turkey, "but I haven't got the energy." 

"Well, then why don't you nibble of some of my droppings?"  replied the bull. "they're packed with nutrients."

The turkey pecked at a lump of dung and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree.  The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch.  Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at the top of the tree.

He was promptly spotted by a farmer who shot him out of the tree.

Business management moral of the story:  Bullshit might get you to the top, but it won't keep you there. 

What's Up.

Oh let's see, what's up.  Well.  This summer I turned 33.  You know what?  It's awesome.  33 is great.  I am feeling more and more like myself lately... yeah I might have eschewed that law school path, and yeah I didn't marry my high school sweetheart and yeah, I'm a divorced person (I hate the word "divorcee" - put any fancy Frenchy e's on it, it still means: been there, failed at that.) but all of those things made the me part me.  Kind of like that old McDonald's burger that kept the hot side hot and the cold side cold.  And boy is the hot part hot 'cause will all this me-me-me stuff going on, I've had lots of time to work out and eat right, and every fiber of my being is thanking me for it. BOOYAH.  I'm more fit than I was in high school!  Way to go 33!  Got some new sexy librarian glasses at long last, after ten years of an old prescription for my legal blind-as-a-bat-ness and I no longer have to pry my dry, tired, overused eyeballs open every morning to apply my lenses.  I can just put on my beautiful smart-cookie glasses.  

My mama was here this summer for just a few precious days in July and it was awesome as usual. We toured Tillamook Cheese Factory.  Cheese is not only fucking fantastic, but its really cool to watch.  All those conveyor belts.  Its quite mesmerizing, I assure you.  Mom went with me to my new tattoo consultation - as it involves a retro sleeve with the big MOM heart complete with banner and swallow, I'm glad she was there to give her two cents.  Mom got me my very first tattoo when I was all of 18.  Mainly because every single year from 12 on, I begged for one for my birthday and every year she'd say, 'when you're 18.'  I was cool with that, so on my 18th birthday she dutifully went with me and stuck it out with me all day, sitting in that shack that smelled like sweat and fear while a "woman" with this Johnny Unitas haircut and really manly biceps kept saying, "You're going to want to stop scooting forward."  Mom watched on with helpful shout-outs like, "Honey?  Do you need some kleenex?  Do you want me to hold your glasses?"  While a naked-from-the-waist-up-90-pound prostitute walked by holding her teddy bear, which she was getting tattooed on her arm.  She was also, later, getting the Tasmanian devil on her butt.  "I think it will help my career."  "Oh?  What do you do?"  (Hey I was 18, I didn't know).  "Oh I'm a stripper."  So although that moment in time paints a pretty damn clear picture for you, I'll go ahead and say what you're all thinking: My mom is a fucking trooper.  She is.  She's awesome.  I'll be memorializing just a fraction of her awesomeness with her name on my arm: MOM.  

And I can't say I'm lamenting the passing of this "summer" that we've had in Portland because I am 100% totally freaking in love with fall clothes.  Pea coats.  Scarves, hats, sweaters - gets me all steamy just thinking about it.  Yeah I've got like 3 bikinis hanging on my refrigerator that didn't get any sun-time this year, but oh well.  At least my fridge will be well-dressed for the winter.  

And babies.  Babies, babies everywhere and none of them are mine, which I'm totally okay with, but there are all sorts of beautiful -- oh hang on... TOUCHDOWN SEAHAWKS!  ... okay what was I saying?  Right!  Beautiful little babies all my friends are being blessed with.  We've got Alice here and Vienne followed, and another one on the way in just a few weeks - my beautiful wonderful friends and their new families just getting started.  I love to see it.  Kristi said it best - that her boyfriend is really lucky she isn't just around babies, because she LOVES babies, it's just the kid-part that brings her down to reality.  You all know - kids can be serious assholes.  They can also be wonderful and precious, but I'll tell ya, I wasn't.  I was an asshole.  My mom should have held my head under the water in the tub 'till the last "bloop" but god love her she didn't, and therefore I had time to grow up to stop being an asshole.  Oh hush, you know what I mean.  

This last year has held a lot of life changing events - both good and bad - and I've never been quite so thankful to be surrounded by friends and family - even if the family is a little further away than I'd like.  I've got my trip home planned for November where my cool-as-hell-grandpa brother and I will run in the Dallas Winter Pineapple Classic 5k run with obstacle course - we'll be the team of Starsky and Hutch.  I am currently seeking out faux sideburns.  Of course we'll do the Turkey Trot again - becoming quite the Texas Thanksgiving tradition, and even though I can think of roughly ten million things I'd rather do than run eight miles, it's got quite a place in my heart.  

All right you beautiful people, that's all for tonight - I have some ice cream in the freezer that really wants me to eat it for diner, and I just don't have the energy left to argue with ice cream tonight. Happy Football Season you glorious bastards, you.

Spell-check is F*cking With Me.

I was posting a real estate listing on vertical e-mail today and accidentally had this typed, "3,465SF" - obviously missing the space between the number and the square footage (SF).  In spell check my first option was "G-String" and my next option was "O'Sullivan."  

G-String O'Sullivan.  That'll make a great blues nickname for my guitar class.

And the morning was...

So I woke up with a HUGE headache this morning.  Last night I watched for the first time the first part of the first Sex and the City movie (that’s a lot of firsts) and it made me CRY and it made me so sad it’s still kind of with me.  SPOILER ALERT for anyone as behind-the-times on film as me: HOW could Steve cheat?  How could Big leave her at their wedding!?!?  Anyway, after an emotional night, I woke up with a screaming headache.  OH and my bus drove past me this morning so I had to take the later one and was late to work.  I also decided to veto waistbands today so I wore my giant brown circus-clown-big pants today that have big flare-y legs and make me look like a hippie.  If that wasn’t enough, I didn’t have time to do my hair so I put on a headband, which seriously added to the hippie vibe.  Oddly enough though, my giant pants and hippie hair managed to give me a very slim looking silhouette.  WTF?

 

What else… oh yes, I took my coffee travel mug camping and haven’t brought it back to the office yet, so I was using this humongous Starbucks mug and when I reached across it on my desk, I pulled my arm back and managed to dip my whole entire elbow in my coffee.  Now THAT's a good, big-ass coffee mug.  

 

I created a new radio station in Pandora with Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Harry Connick Jr., Nat King Cole and Ray Charles and it is SUPER FANTASTIC AWESOMENESS.

 

On the bus today, Kristi had to sit next to a dude who smelled like garlic and slurped his coffee.  On my bus today, the guy who looked like a bum with a sack full of soda cans was talking about how he’d been on unemployment for two years now because he got fired from Wal-Mart for sexual harassment.  Something about a denim skirt in the women’s changing room.  “But you know Wal-Mart – they always take her word over yours!”  "You can't say anything to women these days!" Okay, dude?  Not only did you get fired from Wal-Mart, but you got fired for sexual harassment at Wal-Mart.  And you're telling people.  

The Crazies Are Out. And They're Riding My Bus.

You've heard my many laments about my bus woes, but the reality is, without TriMet, I wouldn't have near as many good stories to tell you good people.  So.  Toward the end of this week we had a new rider - a student from all outward appearances of book bag with books with highlighters and notes and headphones and ability to underline passages with one hand while drinking a lid-less mug of coffee with the other.  The coffee smelled great, but I was certain I'd end up wearing it.  But hey the kid had talent.  Apparently he had more talents then it first seemed, because about halfway downtown, he started singing.  To himself.  All sorts of things - couldn't pick out any of the actual songs, but ... singing.  Okay well it was just one day.  Day two.  American Idol sits down next to me.  Flipping through his textbook, which is causing a breeze, which is causing me to blink and blink and blink my bleary-eyed contacted lenses back into place so that I could silently and respectfully read my own book, mind my own business and take up my own space.  Like I do.  Because I'm a good passenger.  Okay, he's singing along and its getting annoying.  I sigh.  A little dramatically.  Nothing.  I close my book and lean my head back.  Nothing.  I close my eyes.  Nothing.  I look directly AT HIM.  He smiles.  Keeps singing.  And people, honestly, what am going to do.  Am I going to tell Howdy Doody to shut up?  He's singing.  That's like kicking puppies and hating rainbows.  I'm going to be the bad guy.  I don't LIKE to be the bad guy.  WELL that's when things got extra fun.  A man who I hadn't even noticed when I got on the bus was sitting in the back corner and noticed Ricky Martin's textbook sitting open on his lap.  This man exclaimed, HEY is that MATH?  Only this man was a drunk pirate, so it came out EXTRA loud, and sounded like this: "AAAsmath?!"  And then my unbeknownst antagonist decides to engage the drunk pirate in a conversation about math and Spanish and languages and where they were from and ... that was the rest of my bus ride.  The only the pirate got louder and more animated and made repeated references to his absent parrot and some hidden treasure.  Okay maybe I'm making that part up.  Good times though, right?

Things That I Found Noteworthy Today.

In public restrooms, I find it beyond disturbing when people are overly vocal.  There are certain situations where emphasis is simply unnecessary.

When you fall asleep on the bus and start to lean sideways every two seconds, Mr. Stranger Danger, do NOT ... I repeat, do NOT come to rest on me.  

Yes, sort-of-homeless-looking-teenage-boy at the bus stop with really nice shoes, I CAN spare a quarter.  But I will not.

When I ask you, boss, do you want Option A or Option B, and you reply, simply, "yes" please understand that this does not actually answer my query.

Martha, I cannot decide if this is brilliant, or just downright psychotic.  And I think I want to make one.

Barista who screwed up my coffee order, I secretly want to thank you for giving me 2% milk when I asked for skim.  It was the best latte I've had in what seems like forever.