jparks: “damn, I’m not going to see SciFi Friday until Monday. Stupid vacation”

me: “awww no, dammit how shall we survive the weekend without watching SciFi Friday?”

jparks: “what?”

me: “I mean, there are no words to describe how upset I am about missing SciFi Friday. I’m heart-broken. No, devastated. We might have to cancel the trip.”

jparks: “Are you making fun of me?”

me: “No, seriously, can we get our deposit back for the inn? No SciFi Friday, I’m so distressed, I can’t express it. I know! I’ll get Panic! at the Disco to write a very emo song about this situation. Only they can truly express how I feel.”

jparks: “you are so annoying”

Mission accomplished!

Come on people, it’s around payday and I know you can spare a few bucks for breast cancer. If you cough the money up now you probably won’t even miss it. I know you can spare $25 or $10 or $300, if you want to be a big spender. Come on folks, don’t let me down! Click here and save boobs with me.

Update: Yay for Whitney, Miranda, and Laurette (my mother in law) (how weird is that? I have a mother in law!) for helping me save boobs! Boo to my own mom, come on! Cough up some money!

2nd Update: And now yay for Kathy as well!

A friend of mine, Mr. Mike Schleifstein, is doing a 24 posts in 24 hours, blogging marathon today to honor the Katrina-nniversary.

In one of his many posts Mike talks about the Katrina diet and how many people lost weight during the past year. I so wish someone had told me about this Katrina diet because it sounds so much better than what I did over the past year, which was gain weight, and then gain some more weight.

While camped out at our friends’ apartment in Houston there wasn’t much for jparks and I to do besides eat. The levees broke? Hand me another pop-tart. The roof is coming off the Superdome? I’m going to need another piece of cake. Looting? All over the city? At hospitals where I have friends stuck? And the looters have guns? I’m going to need another full meal. With some extra dessert. And maybe a milkshake to wash it all down.

Once we moved to Austin I started a baking phase. “My life isn’t that bad, see I made cupcakes! 4,595,861 cupcakes! And now I’m going to eat all of them!”

Thankfully I’m busy enough now that I don’t have time to cook or bake. And I’m working out pretty frequently. Hopefully I’ll be back to my Pre-Katrina weight by the second anniversary.

Katrina hit a year ago today, meaning a year ago my life began to take a bizarre loop I never planned for, never saw coming, and am still trying to deal with.

To recap, first Jason and I hauled ass to Baton Rouge where we spent a few hours getting some sleep for the long trip to Houston. Did I mention that we got lost in the contraflow? You know it’s not as easy to navigate as our local government led us to believe.

We then got back on the road to Houston where a very nice couple let us stay with them. Us and our animals. For quite a long time. Did I mention this couple is a couple of saints? Looking back I don’t know that I ever thanked the saints for letting us crash in their spare room. Thank you Dan and Erin for tolerating Jason, myself, Lily, and the two cats. I’m especially thankful since Jason and I sat around all day watching CNN and getting pissy with each other since we had no idea what was going on at our house and in our city. I have to admit we weren’t exactly the most pleasant houseguests, but you guys never made us feel unwelcome. My saying thank you will never express how truly wonderful you were to us and how we would have been up Shit Creek without you guys.

After camping out at Dan and Erin’s for a bit we headed to Austin, which was to become our semi-perminant home. We stayed there for 8 months before moving to the golden state of California.

When people would ask how I was doing after the hurricane my stock answer was “Well, we lost everything, but Jason and I are alive and our animals are safe so we are pretty lucky.” But I can now say, thanks to some therapy, that although we are safe, I am upset and feel robbed by Katrina. Why did it take therapy for me to admit that? It seemed so greedy to me, so ungrateful, and so disrespectful towards people that suffered more than me. Jason and I might have lost our possessions but so many others lost so much more, what right did I have to be upset? It turns out, a lot. I didn’t ask to be whisked away in the middle of the night to not be able to return home for almost 2 months. I didn’t ask to lose my job. I didn’t ask to leave New Orleans. And I have every right to be upset and angry and hurt. And still, a year later, not a day goes by when I don’t ache for New Orleans more than I will ever be capable of explaining with words.

I miss snowballs. I want to walk down Magazine Street. I want to be able to go to the French Quarter because I have nothing else to do. I miss magnolia trees. I miss CC’s and PJ’s iced coffees. I miss that no other place ever makes me feel like I’m home and I belong there. I miss being a local and knowing how to say Tchoupitoulas (see I can even almost spell it). I miss the people. I miss the culture. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss knowing my way around town.

At first I felt like I had abandoned the city when it needed it’s residents the most. And some days I still feel like that. But other days I know being there would be more difficult. Having to see how slowly the city is being rebuilt, seeing how many restaurants are still on limited menus, how many stores have closed up and moved on. But if I were given the chance to go back tomorrow I would take it. I would go because since I’ve left New Orleans it’s like a piece of me is wrong. The piece is not missing, but it’s also not fitting comfortably in its place. My heart aches for something it used to take for granted.

Yeah, I am a little homesick.

It’s very weird to have a tropical storm about to enter the Gulf and I am not freaking out, running to Wal-Mart to buy candles and canned goods. I am concerned and I don’t want it to head towards New Orleans (what a horrible way to celebrate Katrina’s anniversary, having to hunker down and deal with another hurricane) but it’s still really bizarre to know this hurricane can’t hurt me. I know my stuff won’t be lost again, that I won’t have to grab my animals and head to Texas, and that I don’t have to worry about finding a new home when I don’t even know if my old home still exists.

I think it’s even more weird that I kinda miss preparing for a hurricane. It’s better than living in constant fear of an earthquake.

Today I went to see an acupuncturist thanks to some lovely back problems I’ve had for quite awhile. Jason suggested I go see one, but never thought I would actually go. I never thought I would actually go. And honestly I don’t know if my experience today counts as a real acupuncturist visit.

First we talked for a bit. It turns out the doctor I went to specializes in infertility treatments and she was concerned for me and my aging eggs. She said after 30 it’s really hard to get pregnant and stress takes a huge toll on your fertility. After this I got undressed and she brought in the massage therapist. They stood and looked at my back for a few minutes discussing, in Mandarin, the state of my muscles. Finally the doctor said “You have much stress all through your back. And you have neck pain. You are so young to have so much stress. I’ve never seen someone your age with stress like this. You better not wait until 30 to have kids.” Great, I totally won’t stress about that.

This uplifting message was followed by an hour of sweet, sweet torture. The smallest, skinniest Asian girl I have ever seen, laid into my back with such force I honestly thought I was going to throw up. You know how most massages are about achieving a point of relaxation that makes you want to fart? This one was not like that. This one was about beating my muscles until they yelled UNCLE! and let go of the tension for the first time ever. It was painful but wonderful; I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so relaxed.

Did I mention while this was going on I had electric currents shooting through my legs? In place of needles sometimes electric currents are used to move the qi around in your body. Seeing as I have a crippling fear of needles the doctor thought this would be a good way to ease me into acupuncture. Honestly this was the most enjoyable part of the visit; the doctor put a heating lamp on my feet so they were toasty warm and the currents were really low. All I felt were small muscle spasms every once in a while and it was actually kind of relaxing. Hmmm, I wonder if electro-shock therapy might be good for me, in real low doses of course.

You’ll notice no needles were actually used today, and this was probably for the best. I have another appointment next Friday and the doctor and I agreed to three needles being inserted into my hands and back. This means I have a week to build up enough courage to survive the fact that 3 needles will be inserted into my body. Holy crap, I need lots of courage. Or lots of whiskey.

Or at least as good as a work day can be.

Yesterday jparks and I went to Crate and Barrel and used a gift certificate to buy a fancy new wine tower. Afterwards we went to dinner at an overpriced Indian restaurant, which was really good, but $15 for lentils? Next time we know to check out the menu before we take people’s restaurant suggestions.

I also managed to raise a fair amount of money for the Race for the Cure. It’s not all showing on my page yet and if you didn’t donate you really should.

And that was our super exciting night. Very tame, but relaxing. We also discussed my possible job options for the future. Jason won’t let me become anorexic and then become a stripper so I guess I need to figure out another plan.

Tonight I signed up to run in this year’s Susan G. Kormen Race for the Cure. Not familiar with Race for the Cure? The mission of The Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation is to eradicate breast cancer as a life threatening disease by advancing research, education, screening and treatment. I am asking that everyone reach into their pockets and make a donation to help support this great charity.

You can make a donation here on the green “Support Regan” button. Or you can email me to get my address to mail a check. Either way I need to get the donations in soon, as the race is September 24th. Not much time to get me to my fundraising goal of $350, but I know we can do it.

Googlers, you are very lucky because for every donation over $50, Google will make a matching donation. Basically you get to feel twice as good about your donation. And come on, if you work for Google you can afford to spend $50 to save boobs. You’ll need to turn in a form to Google requesting they match your donation, but rest easy, this can be done online and I can help.

No donation is too small, as every penny helps fund research that will affect the lives of millions of woman around the world. It takes only a minute to make a donation but that minute could extend a woman’s life for many years.

I’m feeling a little blah today and I’m not really sure why. Could be that the weekend was so much fun that going back to work is a hard slap in the face. Could be that I didn’t sleep well last night and am just really tired today. Could be that a few small things have been bothering me, slowing eating holes in my mind that other thoughts get trapped in, leaving me to obsess over the silly small things.

One thing that has really been weighing me down is the state of my life. There is really nothing glaringly wrong with it, just more of a “is this it?” shadow lingering over it. I love my husband, I love my friends, I love my shoes, and I really love my animals, but some things just aren’t what I thought they would be.

Together Jason and my’s combined income is high, yet we can’t buy a house. Crap, we can’t even buy a condo. I love living in California and at this point in time we don’t have any choice but to live here, but it pains me to not own a little spot that is mine. A place I can paint in any color I want or hang a picture without worrying about having to patch the hole in a year. Or a place where if I have the option to not have beige carpet. Stupid, crazy expensive real estate.

And then there is my job. Yes I get paid well, yes I like my boss, yes I’m happy to be working for a nonprofit, changing the world for the better, but is this really what I saw myself doing when I was a kid? I don’t remember thinking “when I grow up I want to sit at a desk and file invoices and answer phones.” Even now I keep thinking, “I should be doing something more creative than this.” But what? I can’t draw, sing, play an instrument, act, dance, direct, or mime so what does that leave me? Sitting at a desk answering phones and filing invoices. I need to accept this is it. ugh.

I guess I’m going through a really early midlife crisis.

Last night was a wonderful dessert party at Joe and Miranda’s apartment to celebrate Jason and my’s elopement. We had a great time hanging out with friends, eating tons of cake, and drinking lots of champagne. And of course we played my favorite party game: Taboo.

If you’ve never played Taboo, you’re really missing out. And if you’ve never played Taboo with me then you’re seriously missing out. When I play Taboo all of my common sense, dignity, and volume control go right out the window. Jason even stated very matter of fact-ly “You are drunk” a couple of times but I wasn’t, I was just playing Taboo.

My favorite guess from last night’s game was this (and let me apologize now to the easily offended):

“I hate when you come up behind me and do this!”
“donkey punch!”

I can’t believe my guess was not correct.