Daycation 08.10.2011

Daycation: A day of rest in which you can do anything and everything you want as long as it’s completely unrelated to your daily activities. (Note: eating and drinking is expected in a Daycation, preferably of the special kind, you know… splurge! -both in calories and expense!)

Today was my daycation with my dad. You see, I’m leaving to Ukraine in just five days so my pops and I wanted to have a quality day of hang out time before I left for eleven months. My mom was supposed to be headed out of town so we decided to spend the day she left on an adventure of my choice. Well, as I started to think of ideas, I decided that I really just wanted my dad to be happy so I tried to get him involved. First, I wrote a list on my nametag at work. When I got home, I made him a short list. When he asked for more details, I expanded the list and wrote ideas for exactly what we could do/listen to during our fun day.

What I didn’t realize the whole time I was coming up with ideas was that I was really just stressing my dad out. He wasn’t excited because he didn’t know which choice was the right one. They were all GREAT choices, all he needed to do was to pick one.

Last night (Tuesday night), we had settled on a new plan. We would go to Portland to OMSI… and if we decided we didn’t want to go there, we would head to the zoo… Well, this morning that whole plan changed. Somehow, we made a plan to go to breakfast in McMinnville and then to go to the coast. It was madness.

It took at least two and a half hours to eat breakfast in Mac. The place we went turned out to be a bit snobbish, the kind of café where you need to know the owner to get a table quickly. But the banana pancakes were good. It was twelve before we were headed to our car to go to the beach. When we were just walking around downtown, I had texted my mom to invite her to join us. She texted back “no” but then changed her mind thirty minutes later. I was already past Sheridan when Dashboard Confessional’s “Stolen” was stealing the dead air in the car. My mom was calling my cell phone to beg me to pick her up.

We did it. After all, the old lady tends to make outings a bit entertaining. So… an hour and a half AFTER that phone call, we were back on our way, on the road to Newport.

Ah… Daycation. I was glad that I had made a list of ideas, but I’m glad that we were flexible enough to not do most of the things on the list. There were just too many things to do. And it was daycation. We weren’t supposed to worry about anything. It was a day to relax. Wonderful…

I’m glad the daycation turned out well. Sure I ate too many calories and my quest walking adventure was vetoed, but I still had a good time. I took tons of pictures, got my Rogue ID card picture taken with Puddles the Duck, and got to hear sea lions bark at each other. Just another rad day on the Oregon Coast, yes?

God ain't no wizard

When I was a little girl, I thought God was some kind of powerful sorcerer who could change my life like he did to the Israelites in Exodus with the locusts and the frogs and boils. I didn’t realize that God was the sit-back kind of guy, the grandfather who sits on his chair with his reading glasses and his book when his children play outside and eat their grandmother’s cookies while she fixes them dinner. Since I believed God was a wizard, I prayed to ask him for big things. The biggest and most constant prayer was that God would make me skinny. I was young and fat. I ate plenty of chocolate and loved my orange soda. I’m pretty sure I loved all food and would try to eat the same portions as the rest of my family because that was “normal” or something. I wasn’t aware that God couldn’t jump in and make me thin or that I was in fact in control of my own weight and body. Now at 28, I have figured it out. I joined Weight Watchers in October and have been eating the right foods and getting exercise to help me get down to a healthy weight. Last night, I got my 50-pound medal/token. I am thrilled. I feel better. I walk faster and I wear t-shirts that don’t hug my fat too much, mainly because there is less fat to hug. It’s exhilarating. I’m glad that I’ve started to figure things out. God is no wizard… got that. Eat healthy foods… getting that. And enjoy life… ah, I’ve been doing that for 28 and a half years.

witches and magic

I grew up in a bit of a conservative household. We dressed up for Halloween, but my mom wouldn’t ever let us be witches. Even when we were little and we watched Hocus Pocus, my mom thought that it wasn’t a good idea to dress up as the Sanderson Sisters. I wanted to be Sarah Jessica Parker’s character because she was blond and she was pretty. It didn’t matter though, because I was a chubby kid and as I said, we were forbidden from dressing as witches. I kind of left it alone after that, but then Harry Potter happened. First there were the books, then the movies, and then there was the lecture I sat in on at Oxford. An Oxford professor talking about witches? Sure!

My first attempt at dressing up as a witch was Halloween 2007 in Ukraine. I was a teacher and I wanted to throw my students a classic Halloween party. We bobbed for apples, ate Ukrainian donut shaped treats off strings, and danced to some happenin’ music. I dressed up a witch, partly because as an adult I had every right to do what I wanted and partly because I had a black shirt and skirt and making a cape wasn’t going to be very hard to do. I looked great…and scary. See?



Okay, so in this picture I don't look TOO scary, but still. I look dirty, right?

So yesterday, I went to watch the final Harry Potter movie with my friend, Chris. She dressed up as Professor Trelawney and quite frankly, she had the BEST costume in the whole place. I didn’t plan ahead so in about 45 minutes, I threw together a purple Rita Skeeter outfit. I was only missing the true ringlets in my hair and a quill. It was great.



This morning (or early afternoon), I am recovering from the midnight movie by lounging in my PJs, writing on my mac as I watch The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. It’s a great one. And again, it has that magic stuff. I love it! There’s something about magic and witches that I like more than all the vampires and werewolves that are so popular these days.

To be honest, as far as Sci-Fi/Fantasy goes, witches would always be my choice. My cousin loves the dragon stuff. My sister loves vampires and werewolves. My brother loves werewolves. I love witches and magic. I just do.

TWO POUNDS!!!

This is the first time I’m writing about it on any of my four blogs, but readers, I am a member of Weight Watchers. It’s true. I joined back in October and have been working hard to shed those pounds ever since. I’ve lost over 40 pounds, but here’s the thing, I seem to be a bit stuck. UGH!!!! What is going on? I’ve been going up and down, up and down, ever since the week of my birthday. My birthday was over two months ago. Yeah. I know. Two months of teeter-tottering is too much. It’s time to get down to business. I’m RECOMMITTING to Weight Watchers. It’s a fact. I’m going to go back to the Weight Watchers tracking sheets. And I am going to do it right. I think all we need sometimes is to start fresh, you know. Couples “start again” all the time. Each day is fresh with no mistakes (at least that’s what I learned from Anne of Green Gables). So tomorrow is day one of Rece Weight Watcher Part II. Please feel free to check-in and see how I’m doing or better yet, join me in this new adventure. Stay tuned for more. ☺

Some assembly required

Have you ever bought a piece of furniture that is fully intact? The box screams, “no assembly required.” You tear open the box, pull out the bookshelf, unfold it and TADA! You can put books on the shelf because it is ready. I love that feeling. I don’t need a screwdriver, hammer, or friend to help me. I pull it out of the box and feel as if I have accomplished some big feat. This feeling of accomplishment is a farce. I deserve no credit for the shelf. Someone else did all the grunt work.

The realization came to me yesterday as I put together small parts of dental chairs. I am working in a factory, you see. I got a summer job to help me pay the bills my “real” job at the school didn’t cover. It’s not my dream job by any means, but it’s going to help me and for that, I am grateful.

So yesterday, I put hundreds of small half rings onto a metal roller. And I made chair backs and put together motors. It was a long, tiring day and at the end of it, I thought, do they really make enough money to cover all the work we’re putting into these chairs. I mean, really, do they? One of my friends used to be a server at a restaurant. She once complained to me that people weren’t tipping her the full 20%. She still gets her regular OREGON minimum wage and yet she’s worried about not getting the HIGH tip? When did tipping go up to 20%? It used to be 15%. So if a crappy waitress/server gets 20% for her lame attempt at serving food, why doesn’t Mary Lou get 20% of the cost of the chair for all the grease she got on her hands, hair, and clothes? I mean, really…

FYI: the factory I’m working at is pretty awesome. They take care of their employees and even their temps (like me). This post has nothing to do with the company, but at the thought… why don’t we tip those hard workers who hurt their hands when fixing the sewing machine that makes our jeans or the craftsman who makes our kitchen table? And if we can’t afford that, can’t we at least give them a shout out?

Note: I would like to thank worker 12 for making my Levi’s jeans so fabulous and…

ain't no elves in this house

The Elves and the Shoemaker. It’s a great tale. The shoemaker cuts out all the leather, gets his tools ready for the morning work, and goes to bed. When he wakes up, the shoes are waiting for him. His work has been done. He can go through the rest of the day without worry or stress. Unfortunately for me, the elves and the shoemaker is just a story. Elves don’t come into your house and turn your fabric pieces into a beautiful dress when you leave your sewing machine out on the table.

Let’s start at the beginning. Last Saturday, my mom and I went to town so I could get a haircut and we could get pedicures. I picked out green polish, knowing I was graduating in a little over a week and that my cap and gown were Oregon green. After the beautification process, we went to Jo-Ann Fabrics to get some white fabric to protect my dad’s pool cover. When we were there, I saw that Vogue patterns were only $2.99. I found a perfect sundress pattern and decided to get it for my collection of patterns for when I become a real seamstress. Well, my mom saw it and said, “Let’s make it for your graduation.” My eyes got kind of big. I mentally calculated how much money was in my checking account. Then I counted the days until I was set to walk in my cap and gown. “Are you sure we can do it?” I asked. “Sure,” she said. So I went to the fabric section and I picked out pretty green fabric.

When I got home, I washed the fabric. Then I ironed the fabric, which my mom said I didn’t do very well. It’s true. I never was very great at ironing.

A few days later, I started to cut out the pattern and fabric pieces. This is only the second time I’ve ever cut out patterns and fabric. The first was to make an apron that is about two sizes too large for me.

The cutting continued for a few days. We’d run out of fabric and had to purchase more. Before we knew it, it was Saturday night. We were set to leave to Eugene at eight Sunday morning. That didn’t happen. Instead, my mom was up until three in the morning trying to help finish the dress. It’s not done. Right now at 9:22 Sunday, the pieces are still hanging over my Grandma’s old kitchen chairs. I am very little help. If I knew how to sew with any basic level, the sewing machine would be running right now. Instead, I dwell on the fact that my life isn’t a fairy tale and elves don’t come into my house to do work. Hmm. Maybe now that I’m an overeducated classroom assistant, I should learn how to sew with efficiency.

graduation day

Ten years ago today I was scrambling around my house. All four of my siblings were moving around the house, making last minute preparations. I had a paper and pen in my hand and was working to finish my valedictorian’s speech before I had to drive to school. It was graduation day and I was basically moving around like a crazy person. My biggest concern was to spend as much time with my best friends as possible before we all moved on to great and exciting lives. I’m starting to believe that I was a bit delusional in high school. Sure I was book smart and school smart, but when it came to life smart, I was pretty much on a cloud where I ate chocolate and swam in a pool all day. Ten years has changed me. I now believe in the real world and I pay attention to how much chocolate I eat. The one thing that hasn’t changed is that last minute madness. What is the attraction of procrastination and how can I tell him to get lost? I’m still working on that.