For as often as sleep often eludes me, it is one of my very favorite things. Sleep can recharge you, heal you, and is really just pretty overall amazing. In my world, one of the best parts about vacation is sleep. There’s no stress from work to keep you up, nothing pressing that you absolutely have to take care of the next morning, a person can get some good quality sleep in while on vacation. So imagine my surprise, and a bit of disgust, when during my recent vacation I did not get to sleep in even once.
The trip started as I expected, with me getting up really early to catch my flight and then not sleeping on the plane. There seems to be a mental block between me and sleep on a plane. I’m not sure what it is, it just has never happened for me. Some women can’t play sports, I can’t sleep on a plane. I was staying with a favorite relative the first two nights of my trip so I was expecting to get some quality sleep in, despite the fact that there would be a small child in the house (and we all know they tend to be early risers).
To be fair, my cousin did warn me about what was to come in the morning, but I figured I’d be very tired and sleep right through the commotion. I was wrong. And by commotion, I mean devil birds that start chirping at 4am. Seriously. At the time, I had some much less kind words to describe their morning songs than chirping, but we’ll stick with that for the time being. Once I finally got used to the devil birds (this is not their actual name, just one I came up with for them out of the goodness of my sleep deprived heart), I got yet another treat. Garbage trucks. And these weren’t your typical garbage trucks that came and went quickly. Oh no, the garbage trucks seemed to be there for at least 45 minutes. So day one of my vacation, I was out of bed by 630. AM.
Day two of the vacation also gave me the special treat of waking up to the devil birds, but eventually I was able to tune them out and go back to sleep. Fortified with a couple very large cups of coffee, I was up and ready to go bright and early.
The second part of my vacation had me meeting up with a friend and staying at a hotel in Waikiki. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in and waking without the assistance of the devil birds. My friend has never been a morning person so I figured the next few days would be a perfect mix of sleeping in and sitting on the beach.
The first rude awakening I got was upon checking into the motel. They informed us that there was a continental breakfast (yay!) from 630-830am (boo). People are on vacation in Hawaii and you expect them to be up and able to get breakfast by 830 in the morning? I decided that if I was up, great, and if not there was a Starbucks on every other corner so I was clearly not going to starve or be deprived of my caffeine habit.
The second rude awakening I got was the next morning. Where I was woken up by my friend getting in the shower. At 7am. I have never known this friend to a) be awake before me or b) be functioning enough at 7am to actually be getting in the shower. I lay there in bed thinking “SERIOUSLY?!” Which I’ll admit was quickly followed up with a “WTF?” As it would turn out, this annoying little habit continued over the next few days. To this day I'm still trying to figure out how my friend turned into a morning person for vacation.
Eventually it was time to head back home, where once again I did not sleep on the plane, got into town late, and had to be up and ready for work the next morning. All week I kept imagining how great it was going to be to sleep in on Saturday morning. And then I realized that I had made a hair appointment for the first thing on Saturday morning. Sigh.
After a sleep deprived vacation and a terribly busy and exhausting week at work, sleeping in this morning never felt so good. I woke naturally at about 815 and thought to myself, if I was still on vacation, I totally could have still made it to breakfast. And then I did what any sane and exhausted person does . . . I rolled over and went back to sleep.
May 31, 2009
The Perfect Kiss
Is there such a thing as the perfect kiss? Or is it just that the timing, the situation, and the other person can make it seem like such a thing exists? And what about the times you think you’re about to have the most perfect kiss, only to find yourself disappointed?
The first time I ever kissed a boy, I remember not being all that impressed. This is what everyone thought was so great? Where were the fireworks? The music? Turns out those things were still in Hollywood and had neglected to make the trip to my backyard. Despite not being all that impressed, I elected to give kissing another shot as the years passed. That turned out to be a great decision, because I’ve decided that kissing is like wine, it just gets better with age.
Throughout life we get to experience all kinds of kisses, the good, bad, and disgusting. Lucky me, I’ve had my share of all of them. When I was in college, my girl friends would do the hook up with a new guy every weekend thing. Not wanting to feel left out (but not wanting to be completely slutty), I attempted to kiss a few strangers at parties. Unfortunately, I managed to find all the bad kissers. This really slows down any motivation for kissing, let me tell you.
Eventually you find some decent kissers in life and you start hoping for what even a slightly romantically inclined girl does – the perfect kiss. I personally am a big fan of the perfect kiss. Not the kind that you set up in your mind with the powerful music and slow motion like in the movies, but the kind that just happens spontaneously. Clearly since Hollywood didn’t make the trip out for my first kiss, I’m not expecting them to make the trip for much less significant kisses.
What I’ve decided is that there are many versions of the perfect kiss. There’s the perfect first kiss with a new fellow kisser (which is rare but can happen), there’s the perfect break up kiss, and even the perfect spontaneous kiss in the rain (I’m still waiting for this one), etc. The most perfect kiss in my mind? Remember when Ross kisses Rachel at the end of Season 1 in FRIENDS? I like to refer to it as the no handed swoop. As far as TV kisses go, that one is my fav.
The best perfect kisses are the ones you aren’t expecting and therefore, have no expectations for. The ones you build up in your mind are never as good as you hope they are and you’re somehow left wanting. I recently was at the airport and had to get on a plane. I was trying to get my suitcase off the stupid shuttle bus, trying to figure out where I was going and turned around for a quick goodbye hug/kiss, my mind being completely elsewhere. Instead of the hurried, distracted, and unfulfilling kiss I’d been expecting, I found myself on the receiving end of the perfect good bye kiss. I have no idea if it was a good bye for now or good bye forever kiss, but as kisses go, it definitely gets a place on the perfect list. And that is what gives a girl the inspiration to keep on kissing.
The first time I ever kissed a boy, I remember not being all that impressed. This is what everyone thought was so great? Where were the fireworks? The music? Turns out those things were still in Hollywood and had neglected to make the trip to my backyard. Despite not being all that impressed, I elected to give kissing another shot as the years passed. That turned out to be a great decision, because I’ve decided that kissing is like wine, it just gets better with age.
Throughout life we get to experience all kinds of kisses, the good, bad, and disgusting. Lucky me, I’ve had my share of all of them. When I was in college, my girl friends would do the hook up with a new guy every weekend thing. Not wanting to feel left out (but not wanting to be completely slutty), I attempted to kiss a few strangers at parties. Unfortunately, I managed to find all the bad kissers. This really slows down any motivation for kissing, let me tell you.
Eventually you find some decent kissers in life and you start hoping for what even a slightly romantically inclined girl does – the perfect kiss. I personally am a big fan of the perfect kiss. Not the kind that you set up in your mind with the powerful music and slow motion like in the movies, but the kind that just happens spontaneously. Clearly since Hollywood didn’t make the trip out for my first kiss, I’m not expecting them to make the trip for much less significant kisses.
What I’ve decided is that there are many versions of the perfect kiss. There’s the perfect first kiss with a new fellow kisser (which is rare but can happen), there’s the perfect break up kiss, and even the perfect spontaneous kiss in the rain (I’m still waiting for this one), etc. The most perfect kiss in my mind? Remember when Ross kisses Rachel at the end of Season 1 in FRIENDS? I like to refer to it as the no handed swoop. As far as TV kisses go, that one is my fav.
The best perfect kisses are the ones you aren’t expecting and therefore, have no expectations for. The ones you build up in your mind are never as good as you hope they are and you’re somehow left wanting. I recently was at the airport and had to get on a plane. I was trying to get my suitcase off the stupid shuttle bus, trying to figure out where I was going and turned around for a quick goodbye hug/kiss, my mind being completely elsewhere. Instead of the hurried, distracted, and unfulfilling kiss I’d been expecting, I found myself on the receiving end of the perfect good bye kiss. I have no idea if it was a good bye for now or good bye forever kiss, but as kisses go, it definitely gets a place on the perfect list. And that is what gives a girl the inspiration to keep on kissing.
May 26, 2009
Mom, I Don't Feel Good
For the most part, I’m pretty tough and I don’t let a lot phase me. I’ve played sports injured, refuse to let colds get the best of me and in general don’t let anything slow me down. So imagine my surprise and disgust when I ended up so sick that a trip to the bathroom was taxing. And all this while on vacation . . . in Hawaii.
On my last day in Hawaii, I woke up really ill. It has been years since the last time I felt so terrible. Sitting up felt like a death sentence, so you can imagine what actually trying to walk somewhere was like. I even attempted to sit on the balcony for a while so that I could still enjoy Hawaii. That turned out to be a very bad idea. I felt so sick that I did what any grown up, independent 28 year old does – I called my mom.
I’m not sure what it is, but somehow moms can make everything better, even with an ocean between you. She couldn’t do anything to make me well of course, but there is something in that mom gene that makes you feel better just by having the chance to cry to them “I don’t feel good.”
Hours later, subsisting on Pepto Bismol, ginger ale and sleep, I was feeling well enough to actually leave the hotel room. I was moving pretty slow, but managed to sit though dinner with some friends (I watched them eat) and was feeling almost human again by the end of the day.
Sometimes I used think it would be nice to just get a nasty case of the flu instead of having to eat healthy to drop a few pounds. I officially retract that thought with every fiber of my being.
On my last day in Hawaii, I woke up really ill. It has been years since the last time I felt so terrible. Sitting up felt like a death sentence, so you can imagine what actually trying to walk somewhere was like. I even attempted to sit on the balcony for a while so that I could still enjoy Hawaii. That turned out to be a very bad idea. I felt so sick that I did what any grown up, independent 28 year old does – I called my mom.
I’m not sure what it is, but somehow moms can make everything better, even with an ocean between you. She couldn’t do anything to make me well of course, but there is something in that mom gene that makes you feel better just by having the chance to cry to them “I don’t feel good.”
Hours later, subsisting on Pepto Bismol, ginger ale and sleep, I was feeling well enough to actually leave the hotel room. I was moving pretty slow, but managed to sit though dinner with some friends (I watched them eat) and was feeling almost human again by the end of the day.
Sometimes I used think it would be nice to just get a nasty case of the flu instead of having to eat healthy to drop a few pounds. I officially retract that thought with every fiber of my being.
May 6, 2009
A Necessary Evil
I love summer. I love everything about it: the sunshine, the heat (within reason), the extended daylight, the reduced amount of rain in Portland, and most of all I love summer vacation. As an adult, summer vacation has turned into sneaking a few days away from work here and there instead of three months off we got as children, but vacation time in the summer is still amazing. My favorite types of vacations tend to involve water, whether is a river, lake or ocean, water is a must.
This summer I have three vacations centering around water planned: Hawaii, Lake Shasta (CA) and Priest Lake (ID). The only downside with all of these water vacations is obvious. The swim suit. In January, I found a swim suit that I liked and actually fit so I bought it. You heard me right, I am such a planner that I bought my swim suit in the middle of winter. I figured if I waited until I actually needed one, I would never find one. So now at least I have a cute swim suit for my summer vacations.
The next problem following finding a swim suit, is actually wearing the damn thing. No matter how cute the suit, if you’re not built with a model-like stature, they always squeeze in just the wrong places. And because I’m not built like a model, and am actually short and curvy and have some, let’s say a few extra cookies stored up for winter, swim suits are not my favorite attire to don.
I’m not entirely sure where this swim suit dread came from. Having been a swimmer and a lifeguard, I spent most of my summers growing up in nothing but a swim suit. For the most part I am pretty comfortable in my own body. Naked doesn’t phase me (this is what happens when you spend so much of your life in a women’s locker room), so why are swim suits so intimidating? Is it because they are tight in all the wrong places? Speaking of which, why haven’t swim suit makers figured out how to not make the waste band of a swim suit squeeze the love handles, even on thin people? That should be fashion 101.
Despite the fact that I have a very cute swim suit and that I’ve shed most of my tail gating weight from last fall (hey some people do holiday weight, I apparently do tail gating weight), I am still not looking forward to putting on a swim suit in Hawaii in two weeks. Which is completely irrational because when have you ever been on a tropical vacation and not seen women on the beach in a bikini who out weigh you by 100 pounds? What is their secret to swim suit confidence I wonder?
So for the next couple weeks I plan on increasing the vegetable intake and decreasing the cake intake. Anything to give myself a bit of that mental swim suit edge. And really, once I’m in the swim suit I’ll be fine, it’s the constant thinking about it that is the worst part. Besides, I’ll be in Hawaii! What can possibly go wrong in Hawaii? Besides a rogue wave taking off the swim suit on a public beach. Hmmm . . . . that will have to be another worry for another day. Bring on summer vacation. And I guess the swim suit.
This summer I have three vacations centering around water planned: Hawaii, Lake Shasta (CA) and Priest Lake (ID). The only downside with all of these water vacations is obvious. The swim suit. In January, I found a swim suit that I liked and actually fit so I bought it. You heard me right, I am such a planner that I bought my swim suit in the middle of winter. I figured if I waited until I actually needed one, I would never find one. So now at least I have a cute swim suit for my summer vacations.
The next problem following finding a swim suit, is actually wearing the damn thing. No matter how cute the suit, if you’re not built with a model-like stature, they always squeeze in just the wrong places. And because I’m not built like a model, and am actually short and curvy and have some, let’s say a few extra cookies stored up for winter, swim suits are not my favorite attire to don.
I’m not entirely sure where this swim suit dread came from. Having been a swimmer and a lifeguard, I spent most of my summers growing up in nothing but a swim suit. For the most part I am pretty comfortable in my own body. Naked doesn’t phase me (this is what happens when you spend so much of your life in a women’s locker room), so why are swim suits so intimidating? Is it because they are tight in all the wrong places? Speaking of which, why haven’t swim suit makers figured out how to not make the waste band of a swim suit squeeze the love handles, even on thin people? That should be fashion 101.
Despite the fact that I have a very cute swim suit and that I’ve shed most of my tail gating weight from last fall (hey some people do holiday weight, I apparently do tail gating weight), I am still not looking forward to putting on a swim suit in Hawaii in two weeks. Which is completely irrational because when have you ever been on a tropical vacation and not seen women on the beach in a bikini who out weigh you by 100 pounds? What is their secret to swim suit confidence I wonder?
So for the next couple weeks I plan on increasing the vegetable intake and decreasing the cake intake. Anything to give myself a bit of that mental swim suit edge. And really, once I’m in the swim suit I’ll be fine, it’s the constant thinking about it that is the worst part. Besides, I’ll be in Hawaii! What can possibly go wrong in Hawaii? Besides a rogue wave taking off the swim suit on a public beach. Hmmm . . . . that will have to be another worry for another day. Bring on summer vacation. And I guess the swim suit.
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