Bridesmaids shopping

Not shopping for bridesmaids, but for what they will wear.

After the first round of shopping, I have to ask: Why are 99.8% of all bridesmaids dresses hideous, expensive or both? Why is it more likely LA will earthquake itself into the ocean than we are to find a bridesmaid's dress with sleeves that's not going to make my friends look like the Queen Mum?

Saturday, Angela and I went to two mega-stores catering to all things polyester, I mean bridesmaidenly: Alfred Angelo and David's Bridal. AA's competitive advantage is that ALL their dresses/separates come in ALL 46 colors they carry. David's had some nice special occasion dresses, but less flexibility in terms of style and color combos for the bridesmaid gear--and nothing with sleeves.

What's up with this? Sleeves are our friends! They hide armpits and wattles, prevent sunburn and/or keep you warm. Even Julia Roberts couldn't pull off that armpit-slit dress she wore. If she can't do it, how are us mortal women supposed to manage?

Before I resort to shopping in that bastion of modest dressing--Utah--I'm checking out a couple of seamstresses to see if they can create something more suitable, flattering and with a retro vibe. Tulle overskirt, cap sleeves--something that evokes the 1950s. Or "Mid-century" as the hip-and-coming refer to it. Who knew this would turn out to be a tall order?

That 7th grade feeling

I've had my current job for nearly a year. Last week, they got around to training me in a new area that means I'm now able to do my whole entire job.

While I've had little training or help from the person who's supposed to be my trainer and all-purpose question-answerer, I have nonetheless performed well. And, after years at the scanner/database/customer service end of operations, I am enjoying the more challenging work.

Until now.

Being human, I resist change and have sometimes been reluctant to adopt new technology and processes even when they are of benefit to me. (Look how long it took me to get a cell phone). Nowhere was this tendency more evident than in my behavior yesterday and this morning as I grasp at any non-urgent deskcleaning task in an effort to NOT start on the new functions I was trained on last week.

When I finally gave in to the inevitable, I found myself doing OK printing out documentation from various tools. We spent a lot of time on that in training and I'd done some of this before. Where I ran into trouble (and decided to blog about it until the holy reprieve of lunchtime) is the financial analysis part.

For each file, we're supposed to add up total costs for work performed under each contract. The older the file, the more you have to hunt for the cost data. Even for newer files, there are a half dozen sources to check--all in different tools that all look the same when minimized, giving me the urge to throttle our programmer.

I literally don't know what to do next. I have already quietly teared up and that didn't help. I asked my co-worker, also trained Friday, for help while our "trainer" was out of the office. Why not ask the trainer, you say? Because she's the same co-worker I've complained about before; she delights in others' misfortunes and I don't want to give her any ammo.

I know I am a capable, intelligent woman dealing with a new, unfamiliar task. Yet I feel like a complete idiot. I'm sitting here wondering if there's any way to move up the wedding to next week so I can quit work, get rid of this flummoxed 7th grader feeling and not have to do this new and onerous task.

Things I will and won't miss

I've already catalogued a few things I will miss about my little corner of the Southland--favorite retail haunts and independent bookstores, the joy of discovering new goodies at Trader Joe's, walking around Old Town Pasadena, favorite westside eateries and a long list of quaint tea shops to enjoy with the girlfriends. Will also miss being near mountains, hiking, Chinatown and Little Tokyo and seeing the old neighborhood with its "San Gabriel Village" neon sign.

Although I'm ready to move on professionally, I will miss some things about work: walking past the arroyo stream and up the hill to the office, seeing deer all over the facility, Larry and Wesley--the friendliest security guards at the site. Wesley stopped his truck to say hi to me this morning and is the only living being who can get away with calling me "Doll."

As difficult as it will be to leave Southern California, there's an equally long-winded list of things I won't miss:

--The officemate I mentioned in the last post (who's snoring even as I type). I give her a pass on most things because I'd rather not get enmeshed (or targeted) [you're free to argue that I'm already both], but when she failed to perform backup duties while I was out of the office, I alerted management.

--Even though I'm rarely in it: Los Angeles traffic including but not limited to the 10, the 110 transition to the 10 in downtown and the 405 any time of day. Honorable mention to the 101 and the 210 west underpass to the 210 east.

(My mom refers to all the freeways by their names rather than their numbers, which forces me to translate. Her: "Take the San Bernadino Freeway west to the Long Beach Freeway south to the Queen Mary." Me: "Take the 10 west to the 710 south to the Queen Mary." Clear and less syllabic).

--Film crews taking over the school where I tutor. Tutoring either gets cancelled or it's nearly impossible to get into the library to tutor. The kids I work with are disadvantaged enough without the cash-strapped district pimping out the educational facilities.

I'm sure I'll think of some more.

So I'm shallow

I love that my parents have cable even though I have a million things to do and it's hugely distracting. The wedding shows aren't that helpful (because it's not a "destination" wedding with a $55K budget), but we did see a popsicle-inspired home office makeover that convinced me and mom to have bright hued popsicles at the wedding.

I'm glad there's decent shopping--grocery and clothing--in and around McAllen, TX (though I'll have to go to San Antonio for outlets). I will miss Nordstrom, Nordstrom Rack and my favorite independent bookstore.

Today I'm wearing silk Ralph Lauren trousers I bought at D.I. for $8.

Bad mood? Time to buy a new lipstick.

My officemate has a new habit of propping the office door open all day (retaliation after we asked her to turn her music down because it was distracting). Today the door wasn't open wide enough to go through without turning sideways, so I opened it wider to facilitate ingress/egress and somewhat out of spite. The hallway noise is annoying, but I don't want the perp to know I'm bothered because that was her aim. So by opening the door even wider, using it frequently and contributing to hallway conversations, I demonstrate how officially unperturbed I am. Right?

In the meantime, I still have to endure the endless bitching about her living situation, how little she respects her gay (not her term) professor, how Christian she believes herself to be, how stupid everyone else is and other personal drama flotsam she calls her mom about. It could be worse: she could be calling ME to bitch. I'd rather be unwilling spectator than a participant, that's for sure.

Hmm. Maybe I should file that last one under "petty" instead of shallow.

PS: Now the door is closed so aforementioned officemate won't be disturbed during her NAP.

Thoracic Park

I am not the only one adjusting to life at a new address. P.K., my beautiful but ill-tempered Abyssinian cat, is also getting used to the change of venue.

My parents have heard tales of P.K. biting and taking claws-out swipes at me and my friends so they were a bit leery about becoming housemates. Mom has been slipping him little pieces of banana as a gesture of goodwill. (Abyssinians tend to eat weird things; mine likes banana, cantaloupe, strawberries, peanuts and French fries).

When I'm home, we let P.K. have supervised visits to other parts of the house. I have to shoo him off the kitchen table and counters occasionally, but he's been fairly well-behaved. There is a reason for this. He's busy hunting.

My parents' house is infested with crickets. Not on purpose, of course, but the little chirpers get in, set up house and make offspring. You just hope you don't encounter one while padding around barefoot. Crickets are notoriously difficult to get rid of. Our Asian neighbors believe it's bad luck to kill them, but after one of the little buggers has kept you awake all night sawing his legs together in an attempt to attract girl crickets, you're willing to trade a little bad luck for some QUIET.

For an indoor-only cat, P.K. has remarkable hunting skills. At my previous apartments, his repertoire was limited to spiders and the occasional pea-brained lizard that got into the house.

P.K. is having a delightful time with the crickets. He doesn't eat them like he does spiders. He'll corner one, trap it under his paws then pick them up in his mouth. Then he'll drop it and repeat until the cricket is no more than a twitching thorax.

I swept up half a dozen legless crickets last night, some still alive and scooting across the hardwood like angry little Lieutenant Dans. I can only imagine the carnage once we let P.K. hunt upstairs.

Yes, Virginia, some celebrities do fly coach...

I grew up in the palm-tree-lined suburbs of Los Angeles. It was fun being close to Hollywood and I couldn't help but hanker for just a little of the tinsel and spotlight myself. This probably helped land me a few roles in high school drama productions, but I digress.

On my recent trip to St. Louis, I had not one but two celebrity sightings after fairly long dry spell. Maybe I need to fly out of LAX more often?

Saw actor Roger Bart, American Airlines terminal. Most recent gig: playing George, the Bree-obsessed nut job pharmacist on Desperate Housewives. He sat on the floor talking on his cell phone until his flight was mostly boarded.

In the St Louis airport, I spotted a soap opera actor whose name I didn't recall but I had just seen him Friday on The Bold and the Beautiful while I was waiting for Mike to be done with class. He bought a couple of Caesar salads for his traveling companions and ended up sitting a couple of rows ahead of me. Hugely good-looking in person.

I meant to look him up on IMDB, but I got talking to my seat mate who said the mystery actor's name was Jack Wagner. Bill, my seat mate, said Jack was in town to do a concert and he does all the sound mixing for Jack's band.

It was pretty easy to get Bill talking. He'd done sound work for a number of game shows, talk shows and cable shows for the past 30 years (after being a sound guy for bands that kept breaking up). Works on favorites such as Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy! And cycles through other shows like the Grammys, celebrity poker matches and season finales for Survivor. Currently enjoying his work on Bill Maher's show on HBO.

We spent the 3 hour flight dissecting the industry--who's a pill to work with, who's a pleasure. Dennis Miller is an ass--I know, shocking! So was Rosie O'Donnell. David Letterman has the band play loudly so no one can talk to each other during breaks. Oliver Stone played a round of celebrity Jeopardy! high and won (yeah, like Wolf Blizter was stiff competition).

How Ken Jennings changed Jeopardy!--in part by being so good with the buzzer that they had to do rehearsals so other contestants could practice buzzing in--and now pre-taping rehearsals are the norm. That The Price is Right has the loudest studio audience of them all and the hard-core fans line up at 4 am to get into a taping. (Bill also said TPIR contestants are randomly picked, so all the whooping, hollering and matching yellow shirts for your group of 37 don't give you an edge. Good to know).

Anyway, it made for a fun flight. And I started ruminating about my brushes with fame over the years. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours...

• Jack Wagner & Roger Bart, airport sightings
• Willie Garson, LA Farmer's Market (I spotted him; my friend Mel supplied that he was on Sex and the City)
• Vince Vaughn, flying Southwest to Phoenix
• Crispin Glover & Courtney Peldon at The Container Store in Pasadena (click link to gofugyourself )
• House sat for French Stewart's roommate & walked his dog, Elvis
• Attended high school with Vidal Peterson/Palacios who played the Elder on Mork & Mindy and Stewie in The Thorn Birds (the one who was gored to death)
• Gedde Watanabe, from ER and Sixteen Candles, at a cafe table in front of a Pasadena bookstore
• Carel Struycken who played the Giant on Twin Peaks, Von's Parking lot, Pasadena
• Ben Stein and Jimmy Kimmel when I was a contestant on Win Ben Stein's Money

Meeting the children

I spent the weekend in frigid St. Louis while Mike was there doing a weekend seminar. The other purpose of the visit (besides getting to spend time with my honey) was to introduce me to his four teenage children. No pressure, right?

Mike had made plans that weekend with two of the kids and let them know he'd be bringing Someone with him to a basketball game and to the symphony. I didn't want to be a surprise, thinking the kids have enough to deal with--the divorce, their dad's move to So. Texas and various other adjustments forced upon them--not to mention simply being teenagers. Unfortunately, not everyone got as much of a heads up as I would have liked. (And to preserve their privacy, I'll only refer to them by initials here).

I objected to dropping by the marital home to pick up the youngest daughter, J, to go to another daughter's (JA) basketball game because I was not prepared for the possibility of encountering the ex, D, on her home turf. Mike called J and said he wouldn't be able to pick her up, citing complications. We arrived at the gym. Mike went up to JA and talked to her for a minute. I hung back a bit, unsure whether to jump in right then or if doing so would make JA nervous before the game started. No worries there: JA's an excellent point guard--a stealthily good player that the other team consistently underestimated.

JA's team held the lead for the first half of the game, although the score was close at times. We watched the drill team perform at halftime, then watched the teams come back to finish the game. A few minutes into the 4th quarter, Mike nudged me and said "Do you see that woman across from us in the pink sweater and grey pants? That's D." And daughter J was sitting on the top bleacher a few rows up. We had NO idea how long they had been there. The day before D said she didn't want to drive out to Eureka for the game; clearly, she'd changed her mind and brought J.

Mike motioned for J to come over where we were. After a couple of minutes of coaxing, she walked over--something she would have done without coaxing had Mike been alone. Mike introduced us and then the two of them talked for a few minutes. We exchanged goodbyes/nice-to-meet-yous and then J walked back to the other side of the gym. No discernible reaction from D.

JA's team kept the competition at bay and won the game. We lingered, hoping to talk to her afterward. D and J got up and left. JA walked up to us a few minutes later and Mike made introductions. They talked and JA was very gracious to me. She had to stay until the varsity team was done playing and go back on the bus, so we couldn't give her a lift. We said our goodbyes and headed out.

Since we'd already (inadvertently) crossed paths with D, Mike and I decided to go to his son B's basketball game. Mike ran into a fellow from his former ward, so we sat with him and watched another exciting and close game. (I forgot how fun high school basketball can be). B didn't play, but encouraged his teammates after good plays and baskets. When B came out of the locker room, he went over to talk to friends before coming to find Mike in the stands. Again, Mike made introductions and we continued talking with some other adults from church before heading out.

Mike asked B if he had any plans and invited him to go out to eat with us. B opted to stop at home first. By then, the girls teams had returned and Mike extended the same invitation to JA. She said the restaurant we'd wanted to go to closed at 9 pm, so Mike called B and told him to meet us at Steak & Shake instead--and to invite J if she was at home. J declined, so it was me, Mike, B and JA breaking bread at Red Robin (a last-minute change of venue). We had some good conversation about politics, where I work, the dance both kids were going to the next night, and whether B can still put in an application at the UT school where Mike teaches.

The next night, we went to local watering hole, Blueberry Hill*, to meet Mike's oldest daughter N and her boyfriend before going to the symphony. (* = the bar where you're most likely to encounter Bob Costas and where actor John Goodman had his first legal drink). We arrived first and retreated to the side of the bar/waiting area where there seemed to be less secondhand smoke. (Why oh why do some states still allows smoking in restaurants?!)

Mike and I gave each other a quick kiss and just as we separated, I turn and there's N. Such cringe-worthy timing! She did get a heads up about me being her dad's symphony date, but I don't think she was expecting our introduction to be preceded by a PDA moment between me and her dad. She was already flustered from her day and a miscommunication with her boyfriend, now this. I don't know if she was upset by it, but I felt pretty awkward.

We devoured dinner and drove over to the symphony separately. N and R had intended to cut out at intermission, but stayed through Mozart symphonies 39 and 40, a Stravinsky piano/winds concerto, and a cacophonous modern piano concerto. Afterward, Mike and I rounded out the evening with a pint of Dove ice cream and Simpsons reruns.

In spite of the surprises, the first meeting(s) seemed to go well. By the next time I visit, I hope I'll have some feedback from the kidfolk.

How much to say?

Now that I'm blogging, I'm also wrestling with how much disclosure to do here.

Mike wondered whether he'd have the chance to respond to things I say about him/us. A fair question. Especially since I can tell a story in a way that flatters me and not the other person.

Do I get into the running dialogue with mom over who will perform the marriage ceremony? Mom's kinda scared of computers and probably wouldn't log on herself, so how much do I say in a forum others have access to and she doesn't? And if I'm irritated enough to blog about something she said/did, will someone tell her?

Mike and I are not completely aligned on the choices for officiant. There's a short list of candidates. Primarily, I would like NOT to be lectured about this wedding not happening in a temple. Mike's worried that a Mormon person wouldn't be able to get past this and treat our wedding like the kick-up-your-heels celebration it is. For this reason, Mike's first choice is female and non-Mormon or another not Mormon person.

My preference is for a longtime Mormon friend who's totally groovy and wouldn't lecture, a bishop who's a family friend, maybe the Stake President who helped me pass basic math or my friend Chester, the retired tattoo artist/Buddhist priest.

Mom says dad would freak out if we aren't married by a Mormon person. I wonder about this. Sometimes sentiments get attributed to the men in the family that I'm not sure originate with them. Is this a filter for mom's preferences? Easiest way to find out is to ask dad.

Then there are other questions raised by this blessed event. How to deal with a guest list larger than our venue (and that my guests outnumber Mike's 5 to 1)? Whether to invite people with whom I was once close but am no longer? What to do about the friend who is no longer speaking to me after finding out Mike and I are serious? Do I dissuade a non-local person who's gung ho about attending? How to outfit the men and women of the wedding party so that everyone looks coordinated and no one is silently retching over their attire?

Visit to McAllen, Part 2

From another email to the girlfriends about the South Texas visit:

On the whole, I'm feeling a lot more optimistic about the move and about South Texas. Coming from Los Angeles, I always assume that other places are going to be large and as confusing to navigate and I'm always surprised when they're not. I'm not stressing about the move as much as I am about the ten zillion things that have to fall into place before the wedding and move.

Now that Mike and I have taken 2 weekend trips back to back and been around each other 24/7, we have learned this: 1) I need food and water at regular intervals or else I get Ubercrabby and I end up apologizing for my behavior, snappishness, etc. 2) It would help if he's more specific in describing his/our travel plans/day plans. 3) In the immortal words of Chicago, "Everybody needs a little time away from each ooooother."

For example, we were printing out rental listings in the hotel's business office. It's after 1:30 pm; we've slept in and are finally getting around to trying to line up a place for him (and possibly me?) to live. I ask Mike how he wants to go about seeing some of the rentals. He says "We'll just print out a bunch of listings and drive around to look at them." I said we should look through the listings more carefully and only print out the ones that met his/our needs. (I have a cat, so let's not bother with properties that say NO PETS). And we should figure out which rentals are near each other so we're not driving all over the Rio effing Grande Valley.

Meanwhile, we've used all the paper in the printer and we're having to print on the backside of the unsuitable rentals he's already printed out. I'm not clear on his plan. Mike says of course he has a plan and wants to approach this efficiently; why am I mad and making assumptions? By this time, I am mad and hungry and frustrated. The only info I have is what he said. If the plan is more detailed in his head, then he needs to communicate what those details are.

I tell him he fights like a professor. (I mean, he IS a professor, but when we were bickering, his approach reminded me of those obnoxious, cocksure law school-bound guys who turned up in my English classes who would derail the whole discussion because they wanted to know if [female writer/poet] was a lesbian). In Mike's favor, he does stop everything and listen to me when it's clear I'm upset about something. Then I try to explain clearly what I'm upset about.

We sit there giving each other the stink eye in the lame beige hotel business office. I spell it out: I'm hungry, this Texas thing is still a little scary for me, I'm stressed out, and we need to get going if we're going to accomplish anything today. He decides he needs to feed me. I suggest we pick up sushi at the gourmet HEB and have real dinner after we've checked out some rentals. He prints out a few more listings and hands them to me to find on the map and group together based on what part of town they're in. First fight wraps up with everyone a little dusty but understanding each other better than before.

Thus I come down from the newly-in-love high to the flat planes of "Feed me or I turn into a bitch" and "Don't you get online after telling me we need to hurry up and leave."

I guess part of my frustration is that I'm kinda looking forward to a fresh start somewhere new (even though I'm apprehensive about it, too). I get to leave my comfortable rut and do something new--school, work, play, marriage, kids. I'm looking forward to leaving behind my dysfunctional work environment, gossipy co-workers, my butt-head landlord, smog, and singleness. It would be nice to have a better idea when this fresh start is going to get underway. Y'all know how naturally patient I am about these things.

What does it all meme?

Tagged by Holly at SelfPortraitAs...

What were you doing 20 years ago?
Skating through the last semester of high school and enjoying unofficial senior ditch days (a group of us weren't on the scantron roll for 4th period Humanities; when we had a sub, we'd leave campus for a long lunch).

What were you doing 10 years ago?
In the throes of graduate school, hanging out with cool, smart women and learning how groovy vegetarian food is.

What were you doing 1 year ago?
Waiting to start a job I'd had on paper for nearly a year and training a recalcitrant, rude, disinterested and incompetent schlub how to do my old job.

Five snacks you enjoy:
1. Snyder's honey mustard pretzel pieces
2. Cashews
3. Leonidas chocolate
4. Candied ginger
5. Edamame

Five songs to which you know all the lyrics:
1. "Amado Mio" by Pink Martini
2. "American Pie" by Don McLean (the original, not the dance-y Madonna "remake")
3. "Cantique de Jean Racine" in French, which is far more lyrical than the English version.
4. "Come Thou Fount"
5. "40" by U2

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1. Invest in real estate
2. Start a scholarship/grant to support Women's Studies in Religion students at CGU
3. Donate to Sunstone
4. Pay to have early Mormon woman's publications (The Woman's Exponent) put on CD and made available far and wide
5. Splurge on a piece of estate jewelry

Five bad habits:
1. Not exercising beyond walking up/down the hill to the parking lot
2. Not flossing
3. Picking at zits
4. Rehashing confrontations (so I win)
5. Not letting go of stuff I can't do anything about

Five things you like doing:
1. Reading
2. Writing
3. Spending time with friends
4. Going out to eat at old favorites or trying new restaurants
5. Seeing movies
6. Consuming chocolate

Five things you would never wear again:
1. Men's boxers worn as shorts in public (it was the 80s)
2. Perfectly feathered hair
3. A BYU sweatshirt
4. Stirrup pants
5. The "Prairie" look

Five things that scare you:
1. Skydiving
2. Excessive, intolerant zeal (you know who you are)
3. Extinction
4. Current fiscal, foreign and energy policies
5. Riptides

Five favorite toys:
1. My laptop
2. My cell phone (I was such a holdout)
3. My car
4. Google
5. Soap bubbles

First visit to McAllen

My first visit to McAllen, TX was in October 2005.

We drove around a bit the first day, crashed at the hotel room, and went out late for a BBQ dinner. The next day, we were supposed to head to campus in advance of Mike's meetings, but got a slow start. I got freaked out to the point of humorlessness about the city, the campus, the un-autonomous feeling the whole thing gave me. Here's part of some posts I wrote to friends while trying to process being there:

We went to the UT Pan American campus. Mike met with colleagues while I went exploring. They had a big graduate education info fair the day before we came into town (grrr), but I picked up some info on their sociology and psychology programs.

I met the dean and 3 professors in the business management; we went to lunch with them and I heard more about their MBA PhD in business/HR. One professor said they still do a lot of remediation (less now there's a community college in the area) with their students. Said about half do OK and the other half are not academically up to speed. Which makes me think I'd be an attractive MBA/PhD candidate even with my math deficiencies. The campus visit did a lot to reassure me that I have a number of academic options.

After lunch, we met with the realtor for several hours. Decided it was too ambitious to buy a house this trip (can't bring myself to make an impulse buy that big in an unfamiliar area). Mike will rent and when we have a better idea when the wedding will be and when I'm likely to show up here, then we can make plans to buy. Having reverse sticker shock that 100K will easily get a 3-4 bedroom house in a nice neighborhood.

The realtor confirmed that yes, I did see the ONE mall in town across the street from the airport. The nearest outlet shopping/real malls are in San Antonio. They have Marshall's and Ross and some other discount chains; Pier One and Old Navy, too. The kids on campus seemed hiply dressed; they must shop somewhere. On the downside, there are only TWO bookstores in town: B&N and a Hastings. A lot of cookie-cutter subdivisions and strip malls along the main drags. I'm going to totally be able to find my way around. The realtor suggested I brush up on my Spanish by watching telenovelas on DVD with the English subtitles on.

But what made me feel a WHOLE lot better about the whole thing was going into the H.E.B. grocery store (the "gourmet" one the realtor directed us to) and finding virtually everything I normally buy and use at prices that were generally comparable to my mainstay, Trader Joe's. Amazing produce section with a giant selection of chiles; specialty sections of Indian, Thai, Chinese, Japanese, British and Mediterranean foods; big section of natural/organic health & beauty supplies, essential oils; and a whole aisle dedicated to BBQ supplies.

No one I asked could say where or if there are any Thai places, so when I saw a place advertising Thai food, we stopped to check it out. Turns out it was Thai, Vietnamese and Chinese fast food/buffet. The Thai menu board listed three dishes with alligator meat. WTF? Will have to embark on a more exhaustive search. It's still going to be a HUGE move and there are still a lot of balls in the air but I'm feeling like it will be doable and I'm not nearly as freaked out as I was earlier today.

Alligator in Thai food? Seriously?