Archive for July, 2011

July 21, 2011

Style Help: Yay New York

It’s that time again! When I turn into your personal dress up doll and you help me pick an outfit.

This time around, I’m jumping in a car with Ms. Rachel and we’re heading up to Yay New York = A Mass Reception for Marriage Equality. Where I’m hoping to see many MANY of you!

This calls for a sparkle dress.

Here are our options:


1. Blugirl – All over sequins and tulle. Unfinished hem, which reviews saw either helps it flow, or makes it stick together. Either way, cuteness.



2. Halston Heritage – Again with the all over sparkle (the stripes are metallic), but in a totally different shape. I may or may not have the chest to pull this look off, but I’m willing to try!



3. BCBGMaxAzria – Not quite a sparkle dress (the stripes are black and white print), but fancy all the same! The shape is totally different, and FUN.



4. Tibi – Back to all over sparkle, and with a little color this time! I’m not convinced this one is fancy enough, but could be persuaded.


As an added bonus, the model in 3 out of the 4 dresses is the closest to my height (she’s an inch taller) out of all RTR’s models, so the length of the dresses should be about the same on me as they are on her. I’d hate for there to be surprises on the length.

So … each one has its pros and its cons … and for me none of them really jump out above the others. Help me out here! Which should it be?

July 20, 2011

Say Again?

It astounds me how dense some people can be. I’d say stupid, but I think there’s more to it than that.

I’ve talked about my 10 year high school reunion being this fall. And about how I really just don’t see the point in going, as the people running it/attending it and I have no business being in the same place.

Take this email chain:

click to embiggen


Let’s take this point by point (as illustrated by the lovely red dots):

1. Please note the first date of corospondence. 5 months ago, give or take a few days.

2. Please note the first date I sent you my updated address. 3 months ago, give or take a few days.

3. I’m sorry, I thought this was a 10 year reunion, not a graduation ceremony.

4. Ranch Cacamonga? Seriously? You can’t even spell the name of the city you grew up in, that the high school you’re coordinating for is named after? And as a side note, WHO is still living in their childhood home 10 years after graduating high school? And how did you get that address in the first place??

5. Please note the date I sent my updated address for the SECOND time. That would be yesterday, per your request.

6. Oh, so it’s a form letter. Wait, those typos are on the FORM LETTER YOU’RE SENDING EVERYONE?!

Don’t even get me started on that last one. If you’d already updated it, you wouldn’t have asked if I still lived at my parents’ old place.  And to send it an hour after you send the form letter? Helloooooo, incompetence.

What makes this all better is that I got an email this morning from her that she’d CLEARLY hit reply on instead of forward (meaning to send it to the other coordinator):


Jesus can she stop sending me her adress? I guess she really wants an invitaion. Some people just have know life.” *


Wow. I mean … wow.

And people wonder why I’m not going to the reunion.


* All typos are hers. Yes, I did call her Wendy instead of Windy (why would you name a child Windy?), but at least I can spell invitation, address and no. ::shakes head::

July 19, 2011

Life Shattering

It recently occurred to me just how many of my readers (that sounds funny, I’m just going to refer to you all as “you all” etc.) I’ve known less than a year. I mean, yes, there are a few of you that have been around for a LONG time (Hi Skye! Hi Christy! Hi Paul!), but most of you have no idea who I am and where I came from.

In the comments yesterday I mentioned that I’d danced 22 of my 28 years. And I used the past tense. 22 years is a LONG time to be doing something to give it up, right? Well, there’s a story behind that.


That photo was taken at a pick up rehearsal for the show that would 3 months later get me a job offer … dancing professionally (and teaching in my spare time!), no audition required. A freaking DREAM job, if I’d ever had one.

That show closed, and we began to prepare for the next one. This time I was backstage, costuming and deck managing … and being the general cast mom and support system against the crazy director.

Somewhere in the course of rehearsals we got into the ritual of gathering a bunch of the cast and crew on Sunday nights for margaritas. Being the one with a 5 seat car and a generally higher alcohol tolerance than most, I was often the one shuttling people around. One Sunday in particular, we started early, and I had more to drink than usual. Being responsible, I decided I’d stay an extra hour or so to fully sober up before heading the 20 miles home.* The two others who’d driven with me decided to catch other rides.

I headed out about 10:30 that night, and started for home. Getting on the freeway (one I’d gotten tickets on in the past, and so was always diligent about watching for cops), I turned on the radio to discover the boy I was currently dating had cued up a cd for me. Smiling to myself over the thought of him picking out this song, I continued to drive.

About 30 seconds later, SOMETHING slammed into my car from behind. The force of the impact sent me spinning across 3 (thankfully empty) lanes, to hit the concrete divide along drivers side of the car. The jolting and tipping I, at that point, thought was the car going over the divide turned out to be the tires blowing out on one side of the car, and then the other. Once they had all blown, the car took off spinning again, this time hitting the guard rail along the passenger side, before spinning once more and stopping, in the same lane I’d started in.

The song I’d been enjoying not even a minute prior was suddenly not so amusing. I remember hitting the power button to make the radio shut up and having the presence of mind to turn off the car and take the keys out of ignition. The door was jammed shut, so I kicked it open, and ran over to the shoulder … at which point I collapsed, and realized I couldn’t stand back up.

I’d broken my back.

What they say about adrenaline doing funny things to you in times of distress is true. From the time the car stopped to the time I fell over on the shoulder, I had no idea I was injured. I ran, kicked, and jumped … all the while  having an injury that led to me not being able to stand. It also seems to have held off the shock, which definitely set in once I was out of harms way. Once it did, I got to experience first hand just how nasty shock can be. In my case, I started screaming uncontrollably. I knew I was safe, I knew I needed to stop, but I couldn’t. It took almost half an hour for the paramedics to calm me down, and once they did, I cried for the next 4 hours. It was completely out of my control.

The driver who’d hit me? He’d been in a little black car without the lights on, doing 95 to my 60.** Without street lamps on the freeway, I never saw him coming.***

He was blazingly drunk.

And other than needing his stomach pumped, was completely unscathed.

The incompetence I experienced at the hospital that night isn’t worth going into. It’s enough to say that the x-ray tech was the only medical professional I saw there who seemed to know what he was doing, or seem sympathetic.**** Luckily, the friend whose house I’d left not even 10 minutes prior to the accident was seeing a chiropractor, who offered to do an evaluation for free (and then demanded to treat me for the next year.).

The morning after, my dad mentioned he was going to go get what was left of my belongings out of the car. I decided I was going with him. My mother fought me on it, but I needed to see what I’d lived through.


It’s important to stress that you can’t see the extent of the damage to the car. The trunk is in the backseat (the white bag handles you can see in the first photo through the window? That bag was in the trunk). The driver’s side was crushed in about 6 inches … I’d kicked through the front door, but the back door required a crowbar. The passenger side was crushed in almost a full foot. The crack you can see in the first photo along the interior of the front passenger door? Not a design element. The suspension was ripped from the back wheels, all 4 tires were blown out, and my back bumper hung out on the freeway at the scene of the accident for nearly a month. Somehow, no windows broke.

I have no doubt, this car saved my life.

It’s been 4.5 years since that accident. The first year of it was spent healing and rehabbing, but there, of course, were unavoidable consequences: first and foremost, my back will be messed up for the rest of my life. There is a block of scar tissue about 4 inches across, just chillin’ in my lower back. Thanks to this, I do not have the range of motion in my back or hips that I used to have. I (decreasingly, but they are still there) have “bad days” and get muscle spasms that have nothing to do with how I’ve slept. I had to turn down the dream job due to the fact that I COULDN’T WALK (I think I cried harder when I got that offer than I did when I found out how badly I was hurt). Due to the other driver not having a LICENSE, much less insurance, 90% of my medical bills came out-of-pocket. Which means 1. I’m broke and 2. my credit is shot. I had to re-learn to walk, and now do so much heavier and slower than I once did.

I can’t dance.

My friend Jenna once referred to the accident (and a similar one that she’d had) as a “body shattering accident”. Over the years I’ve come to think of it as more LIFE shattering.

But, we pick up the pieces and we try to move on.

Next year is the 5th anniversary of it all. Five years is a LONG time. By then, hopefully, I’ll have run my first race. And just maybe I’ll find a way, though I’ll never dance at the level I’d trained so hard for, be able to find the speed and joy of it again … in another way.

But on January 21, 2012, I intend to celebrate.

Who’s with me?

* It must be noted, my blood test came back with my blood alcohol level at .003. I was VERY sober.

** I usually drove closer to 75, but was paranoid about getting another ticket. It’s a cruel irony that had I been going my normal speed, I probably would have just smashed the car and been fine.

*** Due to my accident, the city council voted to spend the money and install lamps along the freeway. It’s made a huge improvement in accidents along that corridor.

**** X-rays of my back had to be taken with me laying on my left side. As my left side had been crushed against the door of the car, this was VERY PAINFUL. The x-ray tech was a quick and gentle as he could possibly be in both shooting and positioning me, and held my hand and wiped my tears while I continued to cry. I still wish I knew his name, but I have faith karma will come back to him in a lovely way some day.

July 18, 2011

Workin’ It Out

SO. Now that we’ve talked about the idiots I run into when I “run”…

Let’s talk about the actual WORKOUT PLAN.

A few months ago I attempted the much lauded C25k plan … and hated it. Partially because I was breaking down muscle I’d built through years of dance (Fun fact: many dance styles build muscle along the sides of your calves. Running builds it along the back. According to my doctor, the two do not mix.) and it hurt like HELL, and partially because … well … it’s just a really poorly thought out plan.

I mean seriously, you cannot expect someone who hasn’t done any kind of exercise in a while to run 60 seconds at a time with only 90 seconds in between each set. Sure, the first few times it’s easy, but when you get to the 6th or 7th set, you’re going to be hurting.

I plodded along with it, but once I hit week 4 (or was it 5?) … and you jump from 8 minutes at a time to 20 minutes at a time? Yah, I was done. My legs hurt, my back was sore, I was tired all the time and I decided to sell my race registration. I was wussing out. Not something I’ve done in exercise before, so I was pretty sure this plan was not for me.

Let’s skip ahead a couple of months. Husband decides he’s got a deathwish and registers for the Marine Corps Marathon on October 30th, and do I want to run the 10k? I’m helpless when he gets excited about including me in his stuff, so I signed up … not particularly caring that I had NO IDEA how I was going to make it through 6.2 miles.

Enter the Couch-to-10k Plan I found on Daily Burn.

click to embiggen

Yes, the workouts are twice as long. But look! In week 1 you get 4:30 to recover after each :30 of running! EASY! And from there the first 6 weeks you work your way up :30 at a time! True, in week 9 you jump 2 minutes up, and in week 10 you double … but by then, you’ve been running regularly almost 3 months. And if Alyssa’s running journey is any indication, that jump will be a piece of cake, with or without the little running lady’s encouragement.

An added bonus? By week 6 this plan has you doing just shy of the 10k (as in .21 miles shy … or 2 minutes of running) in 75 minutes. (At least, that’s at my current paces.) which means, by week 6, I’ll be sure I can finish the race in a respectable time, even if I’m doing run-walk pacing. Woot!

So is there anyone out there who wants to do this with me? We can encourage each other, and make it through, and BY OCTOBER be running 6+ miles. 6 miles is downright RESPECTABLE. Think about it … it’s enough to enter various races (St. Paddy’s Day 8k anyone? Rachel, I’m looking at you!), and enough to join in if people ask if you want to go for a run.

I’m going to keep track of my progress like so:


Oh hey, look! That’s a screencap of my. own. blog. See the little “Workin’ It Out” tab? You got it!

I’ll keep updating every couple of weeks (or weekly, if I get motivated to) to keep us all on track. So far, week 1 is in the bag. ONWARD TO WEEK 2!

July 15, 2011

Happy Happy Happy!

Tomorrow these beautiful people will become husband and wife:

Somehow, over the course of the last several months, Lauren has become one of my very best girls. And Kamel is her perfect complement. Watching them together is wonderful, and I have no doubt they will have a long, love-filled life.

Head on over to Lauren’s blog, or leave them love right here, and wish them well as they begin their life together. I’ll be here doing happy dances.