Thursday, July 30, 2009

Not a Fan

I have four fans in my apartment. They're great for blowing around the hot air and making my home sound like LaGuardia.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Busy is Good

Twelve hour day today. Will be working Saturday too. I don't mind.

In planning Adam's memorial I've reconnected with two close friends from Denver. The friendships came back to life instantly, despite an 11 year absence. It's wonderful to have them back in my life.

Happy that everyone else in Tacoma hated the 95 degree day as much as I did. I'd rather be in my air conditioned office than in my indian sweat lodge of an apartment.
I could hold bikram yoga classes here.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Mock Three Times

There's something unnerving about walking into a Las Vegas hotel lobby at midnight and seeing some 60-ish guy in a tux singing Knock Three Times and wondering why anyone would choose to cover a Tony Orlando and Dawn song, then looking closer and seeing that it actually is Tony Orlando, and he's gyrating on a little circular stage, looking like a zoo exhibit.

This could be either funny or sad. I went with funny, and walked away snickering.

I know, I'm mean.

Monday, July 20, 2009

122

I went on a little vacation this weekend. My first stop was Laughlin, Nevada where it was 122 degrees. If you say "But it's a dry heat..." I'll deduct 20 points from your IQ.



122 degrees is fun as a new experience. However, it doesn't take long to feel one has had enough of such an experience. My friend suggested we head for a higher, cooler elevation, so I got the unexpected surprise of getting to spend the night in the kingdom of Sedona.

And no, it's not a village, town, or city. It's a kingdom.


Sunday, July 12, 2009

Strand in the place where you live

Strawberry blonde. So mandated William, stylist and Mensa member, when I asked his suggestion for my most flattering hair color.

I'd walked into Sublime on my way home from work. I've been there before. When I asked for a consultation the receptionist said "I think we have someone you may be happy with. I know you've tried several others here..." Her tone implied I'd tried their patience as well.

William went to work and was thrilled with his results. "You look like an Irish lass!" he crowed. A neurotic, Jewish, not-happy-to-be-strawberry blonde Irish lass maybe.

When I got my hair cut at a different salon two weeks later, I decided to go for some highlights. A few blonde streaks to break up the strawberry monochrome.

Somewhere around the 150th foil, I fell asleep. Apres blow dry, microstrands of strawberry remained. The rest was bleachy blonde.

I'm going to go medium golden blonde. For anyone indulging their inner bimbo (or himbo) in this post, I want to be about a level 8. My natural blonde is about a 7. I could have just done it myself.

I so wish all my worries were this silly.