Saturday, September 24, 2011

"Oh! You're a bleeder"

That's on the short list of things you don't want to hear from the person giving you your flu shot.

"Oops," I imagine, tops the list.

(Was at Costco today.  For some reason, I didn't trust the evening shift at my local grocery store pharmacy.  I'm sure they're totally capable of giving me a flu shot; but they always seem so bored.)  I went with the theory that Costco probably does a high volume in flu shots, so their flu shot person is likely pretty good at it.)

Costco lady was not particularly talkative.  (The woman who had me fill out the flu shot form was quite friendly; the woman who took my twenty bucks equally so.  The woman who actually had me in her office with the alcohol pad, cotton ball, injection and band-aid -- all business.)  Pretty much the highlight of the conversation was "Oh!  You're a bleeder!" as she rather quickly reached for the cotton ball.  She then volunteered that she's done tons of these and I'm her first bleeder.

Somehow, this does not make me feel special.

Just hoping I didn't bleed out all the good flu vaccine.  I've never gotten a flu shot before, but after last year's experience with the Worst Sore Throat I've Ever Had, I'm thinking that perhaps an ounce of prevention (or a couple of cc's, or however they measure it) is the prudent way to go.

In retrospect, I probably could've gotten it done for less money had I gone to someplace that took my insurance.  Still, I was there.  It was an impulse buy.  Besides, I promised myself that if I was a good little girl and got my flu shot, I could get one of them free sample brownies the lady in the back of the store was handing out.

By the time I was done with the flu shot, free sample brownie lady had packed up and left.  :(  

Friday, September 23, 2011

Things That Make Me Happy

- I'm playing with my new computer, which came with a bunch of games.  There's a chess game on it.  I lost twice.  On level 2.  This annoys me.  I used to be fairly decent at chess; but haven't played in forever.  In each of the two games I lost, I could pinpoint the stupid move where I lost the game, but that didn't stop me from making it.  I really hate the idea that I've lost whatever chess-playing mojo I had.  Just played again, gave the whole thinking ahead thing my full attention, and managed to checkmate the computer.  (I knew it was going well when I took out its Queen fairly early in the game.)  Go me.

- Haven't exercised in forever.  I saw this coming; really, I did.  Back when I first got my elliptical machine, I used it each and every morning -- no matter how late for work it would make me, there were simply no excuses.  (I started at 12 minutes a day, and ultimately worked my way up to 45.)  Well, over the past few months, I've allowed excuses.  Figured that I needed sleep, too, so allowed myself to sleep in when I needed to, rather than exercising in the morning.  Result:  Very little exercising.  I realized I had to go back to the No Excuses plan (especially since I haven't lost the weight I picked up eating all that strudel on vacation).  Today was the 7th day in a row I actually got on the damn elliptical.  (And I can manage about 25 minutes without feeling like I'm dying.)  Now I have to get the sleep back in there while still exercising every morning.

- Am also working on the whole Eating Healthy thing.  One thing I managed to do (and keep to doing) was cut the frozen dinners out of my diet.  I'd gone for them because of the ease and the low calories, but all the sodium (and the processedness of it all) had been getting to me.  There are also two meals per week that tend to cause trouble for me.  One is a salad which I adore from a nearby restaurant.  It's probably over 1000 calories, and I generally split it up between two meals.  This week, I split it between three meals, without any noticeable hunger pangs.  Second problem meal is a Friday lunch at work, where I always get French Toast.  I left one of the four half-slices on my plate, again, without any noticeable hunger.  So, yay.

Haven't actually seen much improvement in my actual weight from these latter two things, but I'm at least feeling better about myself.

Friday, September 2, 2011

The Perfect Day

I bought a Groupon for an interior designer.  Having finally finished unpacking all the boxes in my house from moving in (YAY!), I figured it was time to schedule an appointment.  (Well, that and the Groupon would be expiring soon.)

So, I e-mailed and set up a time to meet.  Prior to our meeting, the designer has asked me to answer several questions so that she'll know a bit more about me and the sort of things I like.  (She also said to write as much as I want -- something you should never, ever say to me.)  Some of these questions were easy, like what colors I like and dislike, or how I'd like to be able to describe my home.

But then there's this one:  Please describe a perfect day.


I got nothing here.  I've thought and thought and decided that this question does not warrant a serious answer.

So, this is what I have so far:

I am rudely awakened by the phone, but it's OK because it's the Nobel Committee with good news.  My invention of an easily-synthesizable vitamin-enriched non-fat chocolate analogue that cures cancer has actually won in three categories (medicine, chemistry and peace).  Besides, it's a good thing they called as I needed to get up anyway, as I have to address a joint session of Congress.

After a lovely breakfast (pastries filled with my very own chocolate-analogue) at my hotel, I drive over to the Capitol.  (My invention in its liquid form? You can run your car on it.)  At the joint session, I set forth my economic plan, which immediately earns bipartisan support and is passed by acclamation.  I have another 10 minutes left, so I get them to repeal the Defense of Marriage Act, fully legalize abortions, and let that Deaf dude serve in the military.

For lunch, I'm invited to join the President at the White House.  He's arranged a command performance (in my honor) of highlights from all of the good musicals running on Broadway.  

When I take my leave, my (very zippy) private jet is ready to whisk me back to Los Angeles in a couple hours.  My boyfriend, that guy who played Thor in the movie, fills the time with two hours of mind-blowing sex.

Arriving back on the West Coast, we immediately go to Disneyland where they give us super-secret passes that let us cut to the front of every line.

Afterward, I return home, to find that magical elves had cleaned everything while I was away, and my cat did the New York Times crossword.  I have an idea about time-travel which I jot down before bed.  I'll need something to work on tomorrow.

What?  Too unrealistic?

OK, a perfect day is me waking up before my alarm clock -- and this unusual event is occurring not because of an earthquake or my cat barfing on my bed, but because I've actually had enough sleep.  I have time to exercise for a full 45 minutes, which makes many happy little endorphins course through my brain.  I get to work on time (no traffic!) and find:  (a)  my boss is very pleased because the state Supreme Court denied review on a case we worked on; and (b)  somehow the Judiciary found it in its budget to not only cancel furloughs, but give us all Cost of Living Adjustments for the first time in, like, a decade.  I cheerfully zip through the rest of the day at work, and head off for a blind date with some dude I met on the, who does not look like that guy who played Thor, but, amazingly enough, actually does look like his online photographs.  (And he's even as charming and intelligent as his profile suggests!)  He buys dinner; I take him to the theatre (as I'm reviewing that night).  At the opening night party, one of the actors pulls me aside to thank me for my last review, as the constructive criticism helped him change his performance for the better.  I say my farewells to Dude Who Isn't Thor, but we've had a great time and we're both filled with the excitement that this could possibly, maybe be the start of something good.  I go to bed thinking happy thoughts, and looking forward to another day without cat barf.