Between Twitter and Facebook, I find myself rarely posting actual blog entries anymore. Could this be the death of our blog?
The only hope is if I can find a way to make my tweets and Facebook updates appear here as posts. If I can't find such a service, it may well be the end of this blog.
Well before my birthday, I had sent out a mass email Birthday "Wish List" which consisted of two things: 1. money, and 2. Best Buy gift cards. The intent was to gather enough birthday money (and, soon, Christmas money) to afford a nice camera for taking professional-quality photos.
After one birthday celebration--a delightful breakfast at Crest Cafe with C's family-- I am well on my way toward that goal. Her family is extremely generous. One more celebration, with my very own family, remains, to be scheduled for next weekend. I think I'll host a barbecue for them, er, I mean, for myself. And they will be invited to attend. Well. You know what I mean.
I never imagined I would ever consider joining the medical industry, yet here I am with an appointment to tour a campus on Wednesday. I'll be the first to admit that I could never, ever be a doctor or nurse. On the other end of the spectrum, medical billing sounds horribly boring and repetitive.
But while looking at vocational schools (which I find much more appealing than taking math and speech and any number of other general education courses to get a degree), I took note of the pharmacy tech position. Not only is it an important role in the medical industry, but it seems to have enough elements involved to keep it interesting.
I can see myself doing it, and, more importantly, enjoying it. I do like working on a team to achieve a common goal.
The world will always need pharmacy techs, and I like that stability. I have yet to assess the current availability of positions, but the pay is better than I will probably ever make at my current job.
I have concerns about being able to balance school and work; having schedule limitations is basically frowned upon at my job.
But taking a tour is not a commitment. I look at it as opening a door and peeking inside before deciding to enter. Maybe I'll find that a pharmacy tech position doesn't interest me, after all. But I have to try. I need a career, not a job.
In a twist of fate, we are yet again hosting a barbecue. I don't mind. In fact, I enjoy it. I love to share our home with family and friends. But it is rather exhausting. When the last person has left, we usually drop ourselves on the sofa with a Whew!
It will be much better when we have the back yard fixed up and can sit outside and enjoy the warm-but-not-too-warm summer nights. As it is, I am very mildly embarrassed about the state of the back yard. But we inherited that from the previous owners; it's through no fault of ours.
I have, in fact, slightly improved the back yard. The rusty swing set is finally down, and the grass is greener albeit still patchy in areas. Now I just need to mow it before everyone comes over tomorrow evening.
It's a lazy Saturday morning. Acid jazz is relaxing my ears. Agatha has her class this afternoon. She needs a bath. But here I am finally blogging again. And what better to blog about than my new hobby.
It's something I've wanted to do since I was a teenager. Even back then, I loved antique stores. And every antique store has a box of what I am now collecting: vintage photographs. We're not talking celebrity portraits or even vintage art. We're talking old family photos, portraits, snapshots.
For now, my interest is broad. Any old picture will do. But I've already considered narrowing my search. It dawned on me last night as I was bidding on photos that a collection of vintage photos with dogs in them would be very cool. I have yet to successfully win any of those, but I've snatched up some nice portraits.
I should note that though this sounds like an expensive hobby, many items can be found on eBay for just 99¢. And if I limit my collection to pictures with dogs, it would prevent me from building an expensive, gigantic collection with no focus. As I collect new photos, expect to see them here.
As an offshoot of this new hobby, I intend to use the photos in digital art. I love tweaking photos artistically, and using vintage photos as a resource is most appealing. Expect to see my artwork here, as well.
Agatha is smelling doggy. We don't want to embarrass her in her class, so it looks like it's bath time!
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Now playing: Incognito - Everybody Loves The Sunshine
via FoxyTunes
Well, before you get too excited, they're of us waiting in line.
Can't wait to see the show tonight. Having dinner at Carl's Jr., a Jalepeno Burger.
On the road to Tonight Show taping, we made a brief stop at Bob's Big Boy in Norco.
Second attempt with Brushes. This one had a little--lot--more thought put into it. The title's a clue.
Tomorrow C and G are going to be in the audience of the first ever Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien! C is a huge fan. G just thinks it'll be a hoot.
This is my very first attempt at "art" with the Brushes iPhone app. Sure, it took like five minutes. But you know what? I like it. It's just that simple.
When I was a kid, it was a special treat if I could talk my mom into letting us ride the Disneyland Monorail. The joy of it was somewhere between the Railroad and the Skyway, but faster than either attraction.
Traditionally, we would board in Tomorrowland (we were too poor to have any reason to be anywhere near the Disneyland Hotel, the other boarding location), then proceed to take a couple trips around the park. It was an air-conditioned escape from the mid-day heat, providing a much needed rest from the first half of a long day of fun... and long lines.
Making the return trip to Tomorrowland, we would be rested and refreshed and ready to tackle the second half of our day. It was the perfect ride for our high noon needs.
Last night, my memory of the joy of the Monorail was killed. Christy and I decided to try something new and exciting, something outside our usual rotation of a half dozen rides. We had never been on the Monorail together, so we decided it was time. Despite the recorded announcement that clearly states "round trip", a posted sign and a live voice over the PA made it clear that it was, indeed, one way. But we figured we would enjoy the 2.5 mile ride, and jump right back on to make it round trip.
Arriving in Downtown Disney took about a minute. The "scenic" ride consisted of us turning our heads back and forth as if we were at the Indy 500. Much of the scenery went by so fast, we had little time to figure out what it was, let alone enjoy what we were seeing. We sat facing the doors, which, for future reference, looks out from Disneyland into the city, providing more of a view of Anaheim than our theme park of choice. The boarding platform was packed, so we gave up on the idea of an equally unimpressive return trip.
Our dreams shattered, we drowned our disappointment in two churros: she, a double twisted jumbo; me, a Bavarian-filled.
And her. We built it together.
I have a nice view of the backyard, which will be a constant reminder of all the work to be done.
This is the best time of the year. Okay, well, maybe I've overstated that. The holidays are the best time of the year. But this is right up there. It's the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and even though my LA Kings have missed the playoffs, again, I love the excitement the post-season offers. There are several other teams I enjoy following: Anaheim Ducks, New Jersey Devils, San Jose Sharks, Chicago Blackhawks, and New York Islanders.
As I write this, the Blues-Canucks game is on in the background (2nd intermission, 2-1 Canucks), and I'm about to head over to NHL.com to catch up on the matchups. (Did the Ducks make the playoffs? I'm a little out of touch, I guess. I'll have to check.)
My pick for the Stanley Cup? I haven't followed the other teams much (i.e. at all) this year, so a blind guess is the San Jose Sharks. But one thing I love about the NHL is that any team can pull it off in the playoffs. So your guess is as good as mine.
I hadn't planned on writing a detailed story about Sadie. She was back with her owners and that very small chapter of my life was over. No need to rehash it.
But when your sister-in-law, who also happens to be a heart specialist for animals, wants the story behind a dog or cat, you tell it. The following is from my email to her.
Here's the story of Sadie. Christy may jump in and add her own details.
So there I was driving Christy's car back from a smog check when I spotted this little, scraggly, black terrier mix. It was just around the corner from our house, dangerously close to Magnolia. The dog didn't appear to be very afraid of cars, so I became alarmed and pulled over. My first thought was: "Oh, my God, this is the exact dog with which I've always pictured myself." Which was quickly followed by my second thought, upon noticing the collar and tag: "Damn it!" (For purely selfish reasons, mind you.)
When I got out of the car, the dog seemed friendly but wary. It circled me, always out of arm's reach, making a feeble attempt at pretending to not care about my presence. I could tell it was hoping for a friendly face, eyeing me as it continued to circle, its tail between its legs. I squatted down, put my hand out, and called to it. It came over, took a quick sniff, then returned to circling just out of reach. I did some dog whisperer-type stuff, and the dog came back in for another sniff. This time, it stayed within reach, so I gently began to pet its head. When it seemed more relaxed, I looked at the tag, hoping for a direct number to the owner, but only finding the web site "petdata.com" and the ID number.
Being so close to home, I figured I could quickly look up the owner's information, so with some more dog whisperer-type stuff, I picked the dog up and placed it in the back seat of Christy's car. Fifteen seconds later, the dog found itself in our garage.
I excitedly ran in the house, made a beeline for our bedroom to find Christy just finishing making the bed, and said, "Guess what? There's a dog in our garage!" Christy blinked once, then again for good measure, and asked, as I led her to the garage, "What kind of dog?" My excitement came to a climax as I declared, "A scraggly one!"
In all my excitement, I was fully prepared to leave the dog in the garage as I looked up its information, but Christy brilliantly suggested, "Maybe you should put it in the backyard." So with Bertram safely locked away in his "playpen", I carried the dog through the house to the backyard. I let it explore the backyard for a while, introducing itself to all the neighborhood dogs. Then I remembered that the whole point was to look up the information online, so I picked the dog up, finally thought to check if it was a boy or girl, the latter being the case, and Christy noted the info from the tag.
Online, it was to my delight that I quickly discovered the information: 1) the dog's name is Sadie, for which I will always love the owners, and 2) the owners' surname, as listed on the petdata.com website, is Barkley, for which I will always love their ancestors. The phone number I obtained from petdata.com for the Barkley's was unlisted with 411.com, but a quick search for the last name Barkley in our zip code returned a handful of results... one of which was on a neighboring street. I now had a full name and address for the owners.
I called several times, leaving a couple of messages, letting the Barkleys know we had their dog and that we would contact them again upon our return home from work.
Before leaving for work, I let Bertram out of his playpen and observed his interaction with Sadie, the two separated only by a screen door. The meeting went surprisingly well: no hissing, lunging or swatting. At one point, Sadie sat by the sliding door, surveying her new territory (it didn't take her long to claim our yard as her own), while Bertram did rollies, scratching at the glass in a "Can I play with you?" sort of way.
The last time I saw Sadie, I started up my car and she came running around the side of the house, gazing at me hopefully. "Can I come with you?" she seemed to say. "Bye, Sadie," I said as I rolled down the window. "It's alright. You're a good girl."
Sadie, the terrier mix I found around the corner from our house, after having spent the day in our backyard, has been safely returned to her owners. It's one of those sad, bittersweet moments. But I feel good, knowing I did a wonderful thing.
I'm off to go cry now....
I popped over to Google to verify the spelling of "gormandizing" using the define feature (e.g. define gormandizing). Upon typing "define " (with the trailing space) a list of suggested/popular/recent searches dropped down. I was very intrigued by the list, so I thought I would share it with you:
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