Elevator Tips for the Elevator-Phobic

August 22, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 4 Comments

As recently as eight months ago, my elevator phobia – a spin-off of my claustrophobia – kept me out of elevators at all costs. Now, because of my job, I take the elevator every day, numerous times a day. This marks a great personal victory for me, even though I still always choose the stairs whenever possible.

So, as a somewhat recovered elevator phobic, I thought I’d put together this handy Elevator Phobic’s Guide to Taking the Elevator, in case it can be of use to anyone.

1). When the elevator arrives and the doors open, look inside first to check for sewer roaches before getting in. You just never know, and the last thing you need is for your recently-somewhat-alleviated phobia (elevators) to be revived by a clash with your one remaining phobia (roaches).

Being weird in the elevator to show you my “I see a roach” face. Derp.

2). Always have your cell phone with you before stepping into the elevator. Make sure it’s charged.

3). If there are other people in the elevator with you, quickly check them out to evaluate whether or not you could take them in a fight if you had to (which I do automatically all the time, anyway, no matter where I am… it’s a reflex). If you do find yourself in a situation that necessitates self-defense tactics, the elevator would be a convenient place to be if you’re like me and you fight best on the inside because you have short limbs.

4). If you’re unsure about the integrity of the elevator, bring a bottle of water in with you. It never hurts to keep a protein bar or nuts with you, either.

5). If the elevator arrives and neither the “up” nor the “down” signal lights are lit, err on the side of caution and don’t get on. Wait for the next one. An undecided elevator is an elevator that might decide to get stuck in the middle somewhere.

6). Mentally listen to Steven Tyler singing “Love in an Elevator” while you’re in the elevator. It will bring some levity to the situation.

7). Minimize your time in the elevator as much as possible. I almost always take the elevator partially, up from the second floor and down to the second floor, rather than ground floor to ground floor. Between the ground floor and the second floor, I use the public stairs.

8). Arm yourself with knowledge by studying the control panel in the elevator as soon as you step in (well, after you size up anyone who may be in there already. Priorities, you know). That way, in the event of a stoppage, you’ll be more likely to able to find the appropriate buttons even while you’re in a panic.

9). Valium, or something similar. Just… whatever it is, have it with you. Frankly, if I could, I’d harpoon myself with whale tranquilizer if I got stuck in an elevator alone. I would just want to be out.

10). If there are other people in the elevator, amuse yourself by trying to figure out which person would be the devil, à la M. Night Shyamalan’s delightful film Devil.

Happy Friday, Everyone! =)

Here’s Ten Dollars; Keep the Karma.

August 19, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

Sometime in the nineties, I started noticing tip jars (often just plastic cups) sitting near the cash registers at certain casual restaurants… specifically, tip jars bearing cute little signs to the effect of, “Tip! It’s good for your karma.” I still see them around, and I always think to myself that if someone is going to use a religious concept as a charming way to get people to leave optional tips, why stop at eastern religions? One could just as easily frame it in western religious terms: “Tip! All your sins will be forgiven,” or “Tip! You’ll go to heaven.”

But I know the answer to that. Western religions aren’t hip and trendy in the western world the way eastern religions are, so the lure of “good karma,” it is. Moral causality. Throw money into the jar, and the act will work in your favor.

It’s a much more serious matter to talk about sin and heaven. Whether or not we Americans believe in karma, seeing the word “karma” on a tip jar isn’t going to pack the same psychological punch as the words “sin” and “heaven.” We’re largely a nation of people hard-wired to react strongly to those words in one way or another. The notion of karma just isn’t culturally ingrained in us in the same ways.

Where “karma” on a tip jar is cute, clever and cool, the words “sin” and “heaven” on the same jar would come across as preachy, flippant or even sacrilegious, and the effect would be adverse because of it. No matter how many ribbons and rainbows and flowers and smiley faces you put on it, a jar labeled with holier-than-thou signage isn’t going to work.

So, fine… it’s cool, cute, hip and trendy to decorate your tip jar with the word “karma.” Here are some examples I found online:

Karma: the new currency!

Instant karma. Just add hot water and stir.

Remember this guy? I couldn’t resist putting him here, since he was all over the internet at about the same time the “karma jars” were also popping up everywhere.

It’s light and fun and people dig it. I get that. I myself use the word “karma” lightly, every time I park somewhere and think, good parking karma! because I scored a prime parking spot. Here’s the thing, though. Here’s why “karma” on a tip jar bugs me. It’s one thing to remark and laugh about “parking karma,” but another thing entirely to use the word in an attempt to influence peoples’ actions.

Moreover, there’s this: I usually see the “karma jars” in trendy eateries where you order and pay for your food at the counter. Tips at these kinds of establishments are optional and gratuitous, since you’re not receiving table service. Tipping gratuitously at a counter in this case is simply giving.

Giving, in eastern religions such as Hinduism and Buddhism – to simplify, let’s just default to Buddhism, since that’s the trendiest of the eastern religions, and that’s the one I know the best – is dana, which is a Pali word that indicates “selfless” giving. I shall be helpful to others. To give selflessly means that you don’t want or expect anything in return. You give without thinking of what you might get back.

I grew up spending Sunday mornings sitting in a Jodo Shinshu church (Jodo Shinshu is a type of Japanese Pureland Buddhism on the Mahayana side) listening to dharma talks (sermons) and going to dharma class (Sunday school), and I’ve heard countless lectures on what it means to be selfless. From what I understand, putting a sign on a tip jar that says, “Tip! It’s good for your karma” is actually anti-Buddhist in nature. Dropping money into a jar thinking of what you’re going to get out of it later isn’t Buddhist. It’s the opposite of Buddhist. It’s selfish, not selfless, because you’re putting money into the jar thinking of yourself.

I just can’t see it as cute or cool or hip or whatever. All I can do when I see these “karma” tip jars is try to be a good Buddhist and have compassion, but it’s hard when I’m inwardly rolling my eyes and biting my tongue. I am not a good Buddhist. I’m always trying, but I see where I need to tweak my meditation practice in an attempt to improve.

The proliferation of tip jars asking for money with the promise of something good in it for me has always irked me, as the general cultural appropriation of eastern religions by westerners has irked me (please note that I’m differentiating between earnest students and converts to eastern religions and those who just dig certain aspects of the religions to the point of, say, slapping a “karma” sign on a tip jar while not actually knowing what that means, much less studying and practicing said religion). Buddhism seen as a hip and trendy cultural thing just confounds me. I don’t know what to make of it, really.

I’m confounded by those tip jars.

I’m confounded when people think that being Buddhist means that you have to be a vegetarian. (Unless you’re a monk in certain temples, you can eat whatever you want.)

I’m confounded when someone claims to be Buddhist, yet speaks authoritatively of having a soul. (Buddhists don’t believe in the existence of souls.)

I’m confounded when someone claims to be Buddhist, yet speaks of sin. (Buddhists don’t believe in the concept of sin.)

Buddhist philosophy is difficult and complex, and I’m certainly no one to judge when Buddhist-curious people or admirers of Buddhism or actual converts display ignorance. I’ve been working toward the realization of a higher prajna (wisdom) my whole life, and I can tell you, it’s not easy. I have a stack of books, some of which I’ve had as long as I can remember, as they were passed down to me by my Grandmother, filled with my questions scribbled in the margins, post-its with more questions marking pages, hundreds of my questions that haven’t yet been answered. Karma is just one of many challenging concepts in eastern religions, so the sight of those tip jars with their blithe karma signs written by people who (probably) aren’t Buddhist acting like they care about the welfare of my karma so they can get money just annoys me if I see them when my patience levels are low. What do you know about karma? I want to ask on the days I’m cranky when I see the karma tip jars. Please enlighten me, because I was raised Buddhist, I am still Buddhist, I’ve been studying Buddhism/Buddhist philosophy/eastern religious philosophy all of my life, and I still don’t fully grasp the doctrine of karma.

My Butsudan (altar/shrine) with my 20+ books and pamphlets (some not shown) on the subject of Buddhism, ranging from ancient spiritual texts to college-level textbooks.

The truth is, I probably have a decent grasp on eastern religious philosophy, but its complexity is such that some aspects of it seem to elude my understanding the more I study it, and at this point in my life, I just want to enjoy the feeling of serenity and peace I experience when I release my mind during my practice. So I don’t study it as much anymore. I just do my practice and try to live by Buddhist principles as best as I can. I try to “practice intention with detachment from outcome.” I try to practice mindfulness and gratitude, saying “thank you” freely and often, and really feeling it. And I try to be patient, but as you can see from this post, I still need a lot of work in that area. A part of this is that I tend to be impatient by nature (in some contexts).

This tip jar at one of my favorite local restaurants is a welcome breath of fresh air every time I see it:

Tips! Why? Because WE LIKE THEM. Thanks for keeping it real, Chop Shop Tempe!

I’m going to happily continue partaking of their somewhat luxurious fare every once in a while, because the Chop Shop Tempe guys are honest, and honest is what’s cute, cool and clever… plus, their raw vegetable salad with grilled tofu (which I order without cheese) is delicious and vegan and therefore good for my karma! (If you know me well, you know that I’m giggling as I write this.

Carry on.

Inside the Ronnie James

August 15, 2014May 2, 2015That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

Just when you thought it was safe to approach your computer (I know, you thought I was going to say “to go back in the water,” since this is shark week)… here’s another cat picture. But there’s a twist to this one:

That would be the Ronnie James, aka “the Wrah-Wrah.”

Here’s how you’d normally see him:

Hi. You can call me the Wrah-Wrah.

Since the weekend, I’ve been kind of disheartened and distracted thinking about the Wrah-Wrah. We took him to the vet on Saturday, and he was diagnosed with asthma.

This is a controllable situation, but… but. I just feel like a bad kitty mommy.

He’s been uncomfortable for months. With his chronic cough and breathing quirks, we should have taken him in sooner. All this time, we could see and hear him breathing too quickly, too erratically. We could hear him wheezing now and then. We witnessed many of his coughing bouts, always in that same, telltale position, never hacking anything up, but acting as if he was trying to. Then I think back on that scary episode that woke us up one night not too long ago, and I think, why didn’t we take him to the vet immediately after that? Obviously, something wasn’t right.

We did schedule him to see the vet at some point, but at the last minute, something came up, and then he seemed to be okay again, so we cancelled it. It’s allergies, we thought. It’s a hairball, and he’s trying to eject it, we thought. It’s a mild upper respiratory thing. It’ll pass.

That was last month. Finally, after sitting with him through several more weird coughing episodes, we made another appointment. By the time it occurred to us that he really needed to be examined, the earliest appointment available (with the doctor that I wanted, though all the doctors at our clinic are excellent) was for 4:30pm last Saturday. We were heading out to Rage in the Cage, and we were almost late because we were at the vet with the Wrah-Wrah, waiting for his chest x-rays to come back. (Don’t worry… we did stop at home after the vet. We didn’t bring Ronnie James with us to Rage in the Cage, haha.)

When the vet went over the x-rays with us in the examining room, she showed us a frontal view of his chest and pointed at the ghostly white stringy-looking things in his lung area. This bolstered her suspicion of asthma, and the next day, the analyzing radiologist confirmed it. When the vet gave us the images on the disc, we weren’t able to get back to that first view, but you can still kind of see it here:

I CAN HAZ ASTHMA.

Apparently, only about 1% of kitties have asthma.

We discussed the available treatment plan options and decided to start with oral medication. It was a process of elimination decision: Ronnie James needs steroid treatment (Prednisone), and the injection option carries the risk of leading to diabetes later in life. There’s also a kitty inhaler we can use in the event of an asthma attack.

We get his Prednisone from Diamondback Drugs, a wonderful veterinary “compounding pharmacy” that prepares medications in a variety of ways. We asked them to make a flavorless liquid Prednisone formula (the liquid preparations are either tasteless or flavored) so the Wrah-Wrah won’t have to go through the daily ordeal of taking a pill.

Also toward the end of reducing his stress as much as possible, we bought a Feliway diffuser, which is like room deodorizer, except humans can’t smell it. Feliway is basically a synthetic version of the feline facial pheromone, and it works like aromatherapy for cats. We plugged it into an outlet in the bedroom, where he spends a lot of time. It actually works really well! The Wrah-Wrah’s nervous over-grooming habit has decreased dramatically since we plugged in the Feliway.

We’re also going to get a humidifier for the bedroom, since dry air can make asthma worse.

Yes… Ronnie James has a condition that’s exacerbated by dry air, and I brought him to the desert. =(

We have an asthmatic Wrah-Wrah, a special-needs Wrah-Wrah, and now we need to learn how to give CPR to kitties (which all kitty parents should probably know, anyway, come to think of it).

So that’s the latest in Ronnie James news, folks. Ronnie James, rockin’ on like his namesake, Ronnie James Dio. He continues to love snuggling up to any headphones he finds lying around.

Ronnie James with headphones, July 2013

Ronnie James with headphones, August 2014

Happy Friday!

It’s the season of the Asian (skin care) Invasion!

August 12, 2014August 16, 2018That Asian-Looking Chick 5 Comments

This might seem like a girly post about girly beauty products, but it’s really not, because it’s skin care, and skin care is for everyone. Male, female, young, not-young, whatever… skin is skin. Skin requires care. Skin is an organ, and like other organs, it’s vulnerable to all sorts of problems, some of them life-threatening. Daily sunscreen is the cornerstone of my skin care regimen, and weekly sheet masks are the luxury aspect.

One day last week, the mail arrived with a welcome surprise: an Epielle Facial Essence Mask extravaganza in a care package from Hawaii, courtesy of my parents.

I’ll say it again… one can never be too old for care packages from parents! They don’t even have to be our own parents. Any parents would do. Care packages from parents are the best, because parents rule. (Is there such a thing as an online “Care Packages from Parents” business? If not, some savvy entrepreneur-type should totally invent that, because I think it’d do well and bring joy to the people. Everyone can benefit from the nurturing effects of receiving thoughtful little things in the mail from parental-type people who care.)

My parents’ package contained, among other delightful things of the Kona coffee and macadamia nut variety, nine individually-wrapped Epielle Facial Essence Masks –three each of three different kinds.

These are a treat. I’ve talked about these masks before, but I’m glad to revisit the subject because the masks really are that rave-worthy. Also, talking about them again means that I have them again, and that means that my Mom has been doing very well. After ten months, she’s emerged from the worst part of her cancer treatment with her sunny smile and sense of humor intact, and the doctor cleared her to travel in between her Herceptin infusions, which she still has to do until December. With the chemo and radiation behind her, she and Dad were able to spend a little time in Hawaii in July to participate in family events and gatherings.

Thus, Epielle sheet masks once again made their way to my doorstep. They’re soothing and luxurious, restorative and invigorating… but the one thing they’re not is available in Arizona. They’re from Korea, and they’re easily found at Long’s Drugs in Hawaii, probably because of the highly concentrated Asian demographic there. I’m sorry to rave about something that’s not readily available on mainland store shelves. They can be purchased on Amazon.com, from what I can tell, but I can’t attest to the reliability of that. I’m so lucky… between my parents’ stays in Hawaii and trips to Japan, I get to use skin care products from Korea and Japan frequently, and I’m grateful for this because Asian skin-care products are, frankly, amazing.

I’m so spoiled. Mom always sends these masks when she and Dad are in Hawaii!

As I’ve mentioned before, the Epielle Essence Facial Masks are sheet masks that come out of the package dripping with soothing liquid infused with botanical extracts. I alternate the Collagen with Vitamin E for “moisturizing and renewing,” the Firming and Lifting with Vitamin C for “rejuvenating and conditioning,” and the Cucumber for “refreshing and purifying.” I use one mask per week as a part of my Sunday morning ritual.

Collagen with Vitamin E, Firming and Lifting with Vitamin C, and Cucumber

And in case you’re wondering what happens when I don’t have these masks on hand, I use the only other sheet masks I can find in drugstores that are somewhat affordable… the Garnier Skin Renew Dark Spot Treatment masks (“INTENSIVE TREATMENT – Revitalizes & Restores Luminosity”). These are good, too. Like the Epielle masks, the Garnier sheet masks are single-use and individually-wrapped. They come in a box of six; the instructions say to use them three times a week (meaning that one box would last for two weeks), but I still only do the mask thing once a week on Sunday mornings. If I’m using a Garnier mask, I just leave it on for 20 minutes rather than the recommended 10. I make that box last for six weeks! Topically, the Garnier masks differ from the Epielle ones in that they’re thinner, almost translucent; they cling more tightly to the face. The Epielle masks are thicker, more pillowy and opaque. They both work well and feel wonderful.

This last Sunday, I used an Epielle Collagen with Vitamin E mask:

Epielle Facial Essence Mask (Collagen with Vitamin E)

Regardless of the brand, I can’t recommend sheet masks enough for their effortless simplicity. I, for one, have no patience for the annoying rinsing-off of clay masks that have hardened like concrete on my face, or the peeling-off of congealed gel masks that never quite come off perfectly and just generally kind of creep me out.

Those crazy Asians. Of all the bizarre things they come up with, they got the sheet masks right!

I’m Your Secretary! (Not)

August 8, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

Identity is a spiky thing, a sacred thing, and it’s interesting how profoundly we realize it when our own identities are challenged, threatened or compromised in some way, or when our reputations are sullied, reputation being a facet of identity. We feel protective about our identities like we do about practically nothing else. We know who we are, and we want others to know who we are. (Even more than that, we want others to take the next step and accept who we are, but that’s a subject for a separate post.)

A few weeks ago, there was a muddle about something at work that led to an error and an inaccuracy in someone’s “brief bio” on our website. The person in question made the discovery when he went to check out his entry, and he promptly let me know about the issues in an email.

Now, I don’t usually beat myself up when something goes wrong, but this time I felt a good twinge. Incorrect information about the guy was out there, in public, and that kind of freaked me out because I know how I feel when biographical information about me comes out wrong, or not how I intended it. Not only that, but regardless of the circumstances, I was the one responsible for the snafu. I felt pretty craptastic about the whole thing even though the errors arose from confusion rather than negligence. (And this is why I’m not a surgeon, folks. If I’m going to be involved in mistakes at work, I’d rather they be fixable mistakes. I would rather accidentally butcher someone’s online “brief bio” than amputate the wrong leg. I mean, in that case, you could still save the patient’s life by going back and amputating the correct leg, but then he’d have no legs at all, and that would be an unspeakable, atrocious consequence. Not to come across as flippant about tragic medical errors that actually do occur… just to point out that there are mistakes, and then there are Mistakes).

Perspective cannot be overrated.

I got the guy’s WTF email at the very end of the day. After running here and there doing whatever damage control was possible at the time, I went home, retrieved a small package from the mail, opened it, and found that, in a bizarre coincidence of timing, the same thing had just happened to me! In my case, however, the errors in my “brief bio” were in print, so they were indelible. I did not have the luxury of being able to zip off an email expressing my displeasure and commanding someone to fix the mistakes.

Unlike electronic errors, printed errors can’t be yanked from public view and corrected with a few keystrokes. There are no such magical disappearing acts in print. If your “brief bio” is incorrect and the text goes to press and the ink dries on the paper and the copies are distributed, you will be erroneously represented until the end of time, and there is nothing that anyone can do about it. That is how poor Dr. Sanford Couch came to be Dr. Snaford Couch.

Click the image below to see the publication in question (or to purchase it, if you’re so inclined):

Two of my poems are in here.

The last sentence of my “brief bio” at the end of the book says that I live in Chandler (which I don’t), and that I’m a community college secretary (which I’m not). These things were true when I first submitted the text three years ago, though. I lived in Chandler at the time, and I worked as the Department Secretary for World Languages at MCC for a short while before moving to France.

When the Clackamas Literary Review confirmed that Volume XV would finally be published, I wasted no time in sending them an updated “brief bio” along with the revised poems both physically (to their mailing address), and electronically (to not one, but two different email addresses). Despite this effort and the Editor’s emailed acknowledgement of receipt (Hi Kristi, I received your info and work–thank you! We plan to have all back issues out by June…) the volume somehow went to press with the outdated “brief bio.”

Hello, three years ago me!

It says “2011” on the cover, but the copyright date inside is May 14, 2014.

I wasn’t angry or upset, mind you… I just noted the oversight with the odd flavor of vexation and wry amusement swirled together on my tongue. I was vexed because this was not my first, but second time experiencing this kind of thing (no doubt this happens to poets, writers and other creative professionals all the time), and amused because of the irony and timing of it, having just come from trying to fix mistakes in someone else’s “brief bio.”

I did not email the Editor to point out the error, or to ask about it, or to air consternation… there was no reason to expend negative energy, and nothing could have been done, anyway. Moreover, to err is human, and who am I to go around acting like people are supposed to be perfect when I often feel more fallible than the average person (whether that’s true or not)? I was just happy to see that the volume made it to press, period… and grateful that my work appeared in it, as always. In the end, it really doesn’t matter that I don’t live there anymore or don’t have that job anymore. People who know me know the deal, and if people who don’t know me pick up the book and think that I live somewhere I don’t and do something I don’t, so what?

Again, perspective. It’s a wonderful thing.

Happy Friday, All!

Go Criminals!

August 5, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 2 Comments

In case you rolled out of bed this morning saying to yourself, “Self, I would like to learn some quirky Arizona trivia today,” I’m here to provide.

First, some background for those unfamiliar with this aspect of American culture: American schools’ athletics programs are intrinsic to the overall school experience. Athletics gives American schools their school spirit, and much of student life revolves around the sports programs, with (American) football traditionally at the heart of it.

The components are the same at every school. In the student body, there are the jocks (athletes) and the cheerleaders (also athletes, charged with the task of motivating the players by generating crowd support).

Then there’s the mascot, the heart of the school’s athletics-driven spirit. My San Jose, California high school mascot was the Ram… we were the Willow Glen Rams, You are Now Entering Ram Country, GO RED AND GOLD!! American schools’ designated colors also boost school spirit by promoting and encouraging unity. WEAR SCHOOL COLORS ON GAME DAY!

The Ram as a mascot is a cool choice, if not a somewhat pedantic one. School mascots are typically animals – the more bad-ass, the better – and the ram does have an air of bad-assery. The mascot doesn’t have to be an animal, though, and neither does it have to be bad-ass. (Scottsdale Community College Artichokes, anyone?)

This brings me to that nugget of Arizona trivia I wanted to share this morning, since I saw something about this yesterday, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since for its historical interest factor:

In 1910, Yuma High School was destroyed by a fire. With no time on their side, the Yuma School District made the pragmatic decision to move the school into the recently-vacated Arizona Territorial Prison. From 1910-1913, Yuma high school classes were held in the old cell blocks, and school assemblies took place in the prison hospital. Aside from this, Yuma High was a normal school with the normal need for a mascot to represent it. Guess what mascot they chose? The most logical one for any high school housed in derelict prison facilities, of course! In 1917, Yuma High School students became “the Criminals,” and to this day, Yuma High School remains the “Proud home of the Criminals.”

This all came to mind yesterday when I found a list of the “10 Worst High School Mascots in Arizona” in the Phoenix New Times. The Yuma High Criminals took the number one spot on the list, its entry complete with the snarky comment, “Yeah, Yuma Rapists and Murderers does sound a little tacky.”

I disagree with the choice of Yuma High for this dubious honor… my feeling about the school’s mascot aligns more with the sentiments in the article from which I’d pulled the Yuma High School history bits related above: Yuma High School’s mascot carries historical significance, and that is a fine thing. The article is here. If you don’t care to read it, at least enjoy this video of the Yuma High School football team’s entrance onto their field a few years ago when they went to battle a rival high school at their homecoming game, because it’s something to see!

Another favor you can do yourself, if you haven’t already, is watch the 2007 re-make of the film 3:10 to Yuma. It’s my second-favorite Western after Tombstone, and it’s pretty well done!

What I’m Digging Right Now – July Favorites

August 1, 2014August 1, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 2 Comments

The month of July took one look at our calendar, looked at us, and laughed. It mocked us. It studied everything we had planned, and then it said, Ha! Plans, schmanz… I got something else for ya!

In my case, the “something else” included a doozy of a summer cold. But I have no complaints. It was still a fun month. It’s just that very little happened according to plan, and, well, we all know how I feel about plans. I can be a little neurotic about sticking to them. Partnering up with Callaghan has been a healthy balm for that tendency… he’s my opposite in many ways, and there’s nothing like living with your opposite to get you out of your comfort zones!

We only caught two of the six live music performances we’d planned to attend, with one of those no-shows being due to my cold. Also because of the cold virus, I couldn’t really hang out with our friends who were here for a few days, visiting from France.

And finally, the entire month was consumed by our unexpected plunge into an ~~overwhelming~~ exciting adventure of the nail-biting variety, which I’ll likely talk about in a near-future blog post. “Near-future,” as in, when it’s reached its successful conclusion (fingers crossed)!

Meanwhile, here are some little things that captured my fancy in July and made the month especially, splendiferously wonderful:

1). Night-blooming cactus.

Absolutely captivating night-blooming cactus flower!

Virgil across the way cultivates what’s probably the most diverse cactus garden outside of the Desert Botanical Gardens. The day he told us about this particular night-blooming cactus in his collection, we schemed to capture her in action. We went out there at 5:00am the next morning, and again at 6:00am, and again at 7:00am, and we got to enjoy her splendor at each stage. I’ve always loved desert blooms, but this one flower stole the entire 20+-year show! It was especially fun to find an ecstatic bee rolling around in her depths, covered so thickly in pollen that it looked like he was wearing a bright yellow fuzzy coat.

2). Songzaa (App)

Songzaa – my current favorite app for finding new music.

This free app magically cranks out playlists according to your mood or whim of the moment… you key something in, and it presents all the possibilities. Since I started listening to Songzaa’s playlists, I’ve discovered lots of new music, and that’s always a plus when you have no idea what’s out there and you don’t have time to investigate for yourself. You can find playlists by keying in your mood, a specific scenario (i.e. “cleaning the house” or “road trip”), or specific artists. However you search, it pulls up a list of artists followed by a selection of playlists. What’s not to love?

Let’s talk about food!

3). Trader Joe’s “just a handful” of raw almonds.

Big bag of smaller, individually-wrapped portions of raw almonds… measuring not required. =)

So healthy! So convenient! I throw one of these in my bag as I’m running out the door in the morning, and it saves me when my mid/late morning slump hits… we eat breakfast at 7:00am, so I’m hungry again by 10:30am. This pre-portioned bag of almonds gets me through with the protein and healthy fat it contains, and you’re never going to hear me complain about eating foods rich in Vitamin E, either (it’s so good for the skin)!

4). Van’s Natural Foods Chocolate Chip Chewy Baked Whole Grain Snack Bar.

My latest favorite energy bar.

There’s nothing unhealthy in these all-natural bars. They’re vegan (if that matters to you), gluten-free (if that matters to you), they’re free of GMOs and corn (if that matters to you), they’re kosher (if that matters to you), and they’re whole grain, fiber-rich and free of artificial colors and flavors… not to mention, they’re amazingly good! These bars are just tasty and satisfying to nosh when you need a little something to get you through that annoying, stomach-growling 4:00-5:00pm hour.

5). Apples with peanut butter.

I’ve been on a serious peanut butter and organic apple kick lately!

I’ve always enjoyed this classic combination, but lately, I’ve been really craving it. I cut the apple into wedges and smear them with peanut butter, and the whole experience of eating them is so intensely satisfying, it’s borderline weird. But I’m going with it, because it’s a delicious and ridiculously healthy combination.

6). Anchorman 2 (film)

We finally saw this movie, and it totally cracked us up! It was a riot, and we weren’t expecting to find it as funny as we did. We actually thought it was funnier than the first one, which doesn’t often happen with sequels.

Moving on to the beauty/skin-care products…

7). St. Ives Lotion Spray in Soothing Oatmeal & Shea Butter.

St. Ives made a spray-on lotion, and it’s lovely.

St. Ives – I’ve always loved this brand. Now they’ve come out with their take on spray-on moisturizer, and it’s perfection in a can. This stuff was made for people like me who are super lazy about putting on body lotion. St. Ives’ is a light formula in a light spray with a faint, pleasant fragrance, and it practically applies itself! It’s delightfully effortless, and I really have no excuse to not moisturize, now.

8). Olay Body Ultra Moisture Body Wash with Shea Butter.

According to Callaghan, the “Format Avantageux” is complete Quebecois… the French wouldn’t say “value size” like that! It seems that all the French on the packaging of products in the States is Quebecois. Interesting.

Here’s another wonder of a moisturizing product! We’ve actually been using this body wash since spring, and we’ve discovered that other moisturizing body washes just don’t compare. We keep coming back to this one; we re-purchased it again in July, so I thought I’d put it on the list.

Oh, and by the way, that St. Ives lotion spray following a shower with this Olay body wash results in the silkiest skin ever. Great combination!

9). L’Occitane en Provence Beurre de Karite (Shea Butter) lip balm.

L’Occitane en Provence shea butter lip balm… very simple, and very effective.

L’Occitane en Provence was one of those little shops in the mall I always walked past and never entered; neither did I ever feel compelled to try their products when I lived in southern France, where the company originated and therefore has shops all over the place. Even after our friend Chantal gave me this little pot of lip balm, it took me a while to try it… she gave it to me in April, and I didn’t really start using it until June. In July, though, I found myself reaching for this product more and more as my lips became drier with the intensifying summer heat. This is a very effective all-purpose lip balm.

And hey, I just realized that all three of the skin-care products on my list this month feature Shea butter! Theme not intended. =)

10). Prescription sunglasses.

Driving legally again!

Did I ever tell you about the time I lost my prescription sunglasses in France at a gas station somewhere between le Vercors and Nice? Well, that happened, and I’ve been driving illegally ever since… until now. Oh yes! Now cops can pull me over all day, and they’re never going to cite me for driving without corrective lenses. Ha!

Happy Friday, Everyone! =)

But It’s “Free-Range”!

July 29, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

My weekend started on a serrated-edged note of dark humor when, during a business meeting at a restaurant, my dinner companion and I snorted over a particular menu item:

Free-range rabbit on the menu.

As you can see from this photo of the menu, the restaurant offers rabbit with the assertion that the rabbits are “free-range.” Fantastic! Happy little bunnies hopping hither and thither over a grassy knoll.

But then we read that the rabbits are “slow-roasted” and “hand-pulled.” Hand-pulled? We exclaimed in unison. My visual instantly went from happy little bunnies to torn-apart bunnies. The menu’s brief description concludes with a touch of poetic, seductive frill, the “black trumpet mushrooms, thyme, Pecorino” part elegantly cloaking the macabre “slow roasted hand pulled” part. Perhaps they thought that starting with the nationality of the rabbit would smooth the way for the rest of the description… better these misfortunes befall a Canadian rabbit than an American one, though the dish is Croatian, not Canadian.

Coniglio Pljukanci: “Canadian free range & slow roasted hand pulled rabbit…”

Following this template, Callaghan and I – ever on the look-out for ways to amuse ourselves – later came up with a list of menu items featuring animals humanely kept before their inevitable demise:

Boeuf Bourguinon: “French grass-fed cow, guillotined, braised and immersed in a Burgundy wine sauce…”

Jaegar Schnitzel: “German open pen pig surrounded by barnyard friends, then bled out through the throat and filleted…”

Lamb Stew: “New Zealand petting zoo lamb executed by firing squad, cut into chunks…”

Kobe Beef: “Japanese cow tucked in at night with a bedtime story, then slaughtered & grilled…”

There’s probably something slightly wrong with us for having so much fun with this, but in my defense I was more reminded of Dr. Jonathan Swift’s satirical essay “A Modest Proposal,” in which he advocates the killing and eating of babies and children as a way to alleviate the poverty problem in 18^th-century Ireland:

A young healthy child well nursed, is, at a year old, a most delicious nourishing and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee, or a ragout.

He had many ideas, in fact, and applied a great deal of thought to the matter:

Excerpt from Dr. Jonathan Swift’s “A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Children of Poor People From Being a Burthen to Their Parents or Country, and for Making Them Beneficial to the Publick” (Eighteenth-Century English Literature, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich College Publishers, 1969)

On that note, I’m going to go put something together for lunch today. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, anyone?

NOT UNLIKE! Dragon Edition.

July 25, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

While most people would agree that Ronnie James and the Nounours have distinct personalities that make them very different from each other, many wouldn’t realize, at a glance, the depth of the differences, which are largely intelligence-based. (Poor Nounours!)

What should be obvious to all who meet them is that our fur-kids carry a peculiar resemblance to the dragons in the How to Train Your Dragon movies. The superficial resemblance is there, for sure… we’ve always thought that Ronnie James (aka the Wrah-Wrah) is a dead ringer for Night Fury, and there are two older NOT UNLIKEs out there to this effect. Then, earlier this week, we were sitting in a waiting room flipping through magazines when I stumbled upon a photo that accompanied a review of How to Train Your Dragon 2, and Lo! The creature had “Nounours” written all over it! I quickly took a picture so you could see. You’ll note that the resemblance isn’t so much superficial as it’s energetic. With their similar expressions, Nounours and this creature seem to share… an I.Q. (Poor, sweet Nounours!)

Callaghan made these NOT UNLIKEs using our most recent pics of our Sons-Who-Have-Fur. You’ll see the likeness of the Wrah-Wrah and the Nounours with their dragon counterparts, especially in their dispositions:

Nounours on the left. Dragon from “How to Train Your Dragon 2” on the right. NOT UNLIKE.

Ronnie James on the left. Night Fury from “How to Train Your Dragon” on the right. NOT UNLIKE.

Dragony energy all up in here! Now we need to actually watch these movies. Callaghan’s seen the first How to Train Your Dragon, but I haven’t, and we want to see the second one based on its excellent reviews. Lucy hits the theatres today, though, and we’ve been so looking forward to that one! We’d rather spend our scarce movie theatre ticket bucks on sci-fi action flicks. We’ll look forward to a How to Train Your Dragon home movie marathon one day.

Happy Friday, All!

Making my entrance again with my usual flair. (Yes, I’m a clown.)

July 22, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

I didn’t want to start this post with “Welcome to Embarrassing Confessions Tuesday” because I believe I’ve already started at least one post with those words, which gives you an idea of how often I land myself in embarrassing situations. Anyway. If you’ve been here a while (and even if you haven’t), you might be wondering what happened this time, so let’s dive right in, shall we?

I spent the weekend indoors with a head cold, instead of going out to listen to music (as planned) and hanging out with our friends who are visiting from France (also as planned). Good thing our visitors stayed in a hotel! I opted out of their activities because I needed to rest, and, moreover, I didn’t want to get anyone sick.

On Saturday, Callaghan took them for a trek over to the local ghost town, the Superstition Mountains and the cursed house over there that I used to own and inhabit (that might be a story for another time). Sunday’s plan was to leave early in the morning to go up north and explore Sedona and the Grand Canyon. Our friends were to come to our place in their rental car to pick up Callaghan.

When the alarm went off at 6:30am Sunday, I woke up momentarily, closed my eyes, and opened them again just minutes later, it seemed. Hearing Callaghan muttering to himself in French off in the distance, I called out to him, wanting to know what was wrong. No response. I listened and heard more muttering, though I couldn’t make out any words. I thought he sounded agitated, but maybe my brain superimposed that state of mind over his verbal stream, since the only time he talks to himself is when he’s pissed off. There were other noises, too… a slamming door, things getting thrown around. All the noise woke me up, and I don’t wake up easily! Something must be really wrong, I thought. I called out again, and then a third time. When he still didn’t answer, I got out of bed and went to see what was happening.

Folks, it was not my fault. It was very early, I wasn’t fully awake, I was sick, and I didn’t hear any other voices but Callaghan’s. I stumbled into the living room, which was atypically bright with the overhead light that we rarely use.

And everyone was there.

You know that classic bad dream where you’re standing in your underwear with a bunch of people staring at you? YEAH, THAT HAPPENED. Christophe, Sandrine and their nine-year-old daughter were right there in the middle of our small apartment living room. Christophe was less than three feet away from me. I was wearing panties and nothing else.

There was that painfully suspended moment of eye-popping shock on everyone’s face when we all realized that I was pretty much naked, you know, that longest moment ever where it’s registering that someone in the room is in their underwear… and then I shrieked and apologized at the same time that they gasped and apologized and everyone was awkwardly apologizing as I turned and ran back into the bedroom, Callaghan close behind me. I jumped into the bed and pulled the sheet over my face. I was abjectly mortified. I’d walked into a room full of people wearing only panties! I couldn’t believe it.

Callaghan held me through the covers and said, “Baby! I’m so sorry! I thought you knew they were here!”

He thought I knew? HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW? I’d been asleep! When they came to pick him up the previous morning, they didn’t come up to the apartment… he went down to meet them! How was I supposed to know that this time, they were all coming up? How was I supposed to know ANYTHING when I was half-asleep, groggy and disoriented with my head blown up with a cold virus? My brain wasn’t even on yet, much less alert with any clairvoyant knowledge of this sort!

After he apologized (so many apologies all around!) and reassured me, he left me in the bed, saying he’d come back to kiss me good-bye before they left. But in my mind, the only course of action I could take – the only way to remedy the situation and get on top of my mortification – was to go back out there, because facing fire, humiliation, whatever head-on is how I do (to borrow an expression from zfrank1). I was NOT going to lie under the covers and hide. I had to recover my dignity.

So I got out of bed, put on my short gray robe, and marched back out to the living-room, throwing my arms out wide for dramatic effect and saying loudly, “LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN! BONJOUR!” and we all laughed. It was comic relief, and it was effective.

And that’s how you make an entrance after your first entrance is an epic, humiliating FAIL.

But this was how I felt inside, beneath the false cheer:

Stabby.

When the gang got back that night and we all went out to dinner, we engaged in normal conversation as if nothing had happened. But I knew and still know that they know what I look like naked, and that makes me feel, well, naked.

So, what can we learn from this?

–If there’s even a remote possibility that people are coming over at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning, don’t go to bed naked (or just in your undies).

–If you call out for your partner and get no response, don’t go out there… just call louder, repeatedly.

–If you must sleep in only your undies, at least wear cute ones, because you never know who is going to see them. Fortunately, mine were reasonably cute. I was wearing a Barely There CustomFlex Fit Bikini in the pale blue zebra stripe, and I must say, that was a fortunate circumstance. I wasn’t wearing a thong (thank goodness). I wasn’t wearing granny panties (I don’t own any, anyway). The bikini was the ideal model of underwear to have on if I had to get caught wearing nothing else.

I hope that reading posts like this makes you feel less alone in your own embarrassing moments!

As for me, I’m still sick, but the cold’s progressing toward the end – it’s dropped a little lower and now I’m coughing a lot, as in, constantly. It should be out of my system soon!

Online Advertising FAIL Leads to World War (A)Z

July 18, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 2 Comments

You know how it is when you search for something online, and within days, that very thing pops up in your Facebook news feed while you’re scrolling through it? I found it disconcerting when it first started happening, but now, I’m accustomed to it. I’ve gotten used to the internet spying on my web-browsing habits and keeping track of my site visits, though I’m not less annoyed by it.

But I have some reassuring news to share: the internet is not as all-knowing as it appears to be, and it’s nowhere near as adept at learning about you as you might think! There are grave flaws in its insidious little system, bugs in the mechanism behind the personal-habit espionage that goes on every time we enter the ether that is the internet. I know this because I visit at least one Arizona State University web page per day, yet earlier this week, an ad for Alabama State University gifts inserted itself into my news feed and passed before my eyeballs as I scrolled through. Why? Because ASU.

Not my ASU! My alma mater is Arizona State, not Alabama State.

YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG, robotic internet spies. I have never searched for Alabama State anything! Ha!

So, if you feel that you’re being overly-surveilled online, take heart. The robotic internet spies can’t tell the difference between one “ASU” and another – they don’t know if the “A” is for “Arizona” or “Alabama.” They don’t know that we’re the Sun Devils, not the Hornets, and they actually don’t know anything at all. This is not a complex epistemological matter. Arizona and Alabama are two very different states, and the robotic internet spies don’t know that.

This is not to diss Alabama, mind you. I’m just saying that there are big differences. For instance, in Arizona, if you accidentally dump a full container of water on yourself in the car during the summer, it’s no big deal because after you exit your car and walk across the parking lot to the store, your shirt will be completely dry. The hot, dry air works like a gigantic clothes dryer when you cut through it. In Alabama, on the other hand, it’s humid… so if you dump water on yourself in the car, you’re likely to be even wetter by the time you get to the store.

Somehow, I’m reminded of Sheriff Joe, our sheriff who decided against running for governor. I think his decision was a sound one, and not just because “Governor Joe” doesn’t have the same ring to it as “Sheriff Joe” AT ALL. I have suspected for a while now that Sheriff Joe, aka “America’s Toughest Sheriff,” has been secretly working out a zombie apocalypse plan for Arizona. How else would you explain the mysterious statement he made when he announced that he wasn’t running for governor:

“I cannot in good conscience leave the sheriff’s office now, since that would be necessary if I declare a candidacy for governor,” Arpaio said in a press release. “Currently, I have several sensitive investigations in progress and am facing many challenges in my office. Because of this, I will not desert the people of Maricopa County who have elected me six times. Further, I cannot desert my dedicated employees.” (source: The Entire Internet)

Obviously he’s talking about the zombie apocalypse! There are zombies all over his statement, and it’s true… if there’s no Sheriff Joe, who will lead us when it hits?

I just keyed “sheriff joe zombie apocalypse” into my search engine. I can’t wait to see what ads will show up on my FB feed now.

Happy Friday, All!

My Partner is Weirder than Yours.

July 15, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 2 Comments

The other night, Callaghan and I were sitting next to each other on the loveseat when he picked up my hand and lifted it to his lips.

“Mmm, I love your skin and your temperature,” he said, kissing my wrist.

“My temperature? Haha! That’s a new one!”

“See? Original.”

He didn’t start laughing with me, and that threw me off. He was unusually mild, oddly emotionless with his statement. He kissed my forearm up and down, and I was reminded of a cartoon character – Foghorn Leghorn, maybe? – eating corn on the cob, like a typewriter. Sexy! I stifled a giggle.

“Mmm. Good temperature. I’ll keep you,” he murmured dramatically. His words and actions were comical, but his demeanor was serious.

Well that was strange, I thought, looking after his form as it walked off and turned the corner into the hallway.

A little while later, he passed by me where I was still sitting on the loveseat. He paused, picked up my foot, and kissed it.

“Yes. You’re the right temperature,” he said, releasing my foot and continuing on his way to the kitchen. His tone was definite, as if confirming to himself the veracity of his earlier assessment. His tone almost had an air of scientific assessment.

At that point, I had to wonder:

–Not only is Callaghan not into feet, but he just barely tolerates them. Feet are not one of his erogenous zones.

—Ergo, singling out my foot for a kiss is something that would be classified as a distinctly un-Callaghan-like act.

My mind immediately went to:

—OMG he’s been abducted by aliens.

–Or, he IS an alien… an alien from a planet where the standard of beauty is temperature-based. The aliens gauge a human’s temperature by pressing their lips to his/her extremities, thus measuring attractiveness.

–Who or what is this person-like thing, and what did it do with my husband? Why is it assessing my temperature?

–WHAT IS IT PLANNING TO DO WITH ME?

I was just confused because this soft-spoken Callaghan was not the Callaghan I knew. So neutral as to be matter-of-fact in the blandest of ways? Not the Callaghan I knew. The Callaghan I knew was loud, boisterous, growly and silly.

One thing’s for sure: if it was just him being in a weird mood, he certainly does get points for originality. Of the various sorts of compliments I’ve received in my life, my temperature hasn’t been one of them.

I passed the alien magnet test with the allure of the incomparable temperature of my extremities.

This is how I must look to an alien, what with my temperature all hanging out everywhere, you know.

HEY! I just thought of something… in the film Edge of Tomorrow, the aliens were in Paris, FRANCE. **SPOILER ALERT** The master alien was found hiding beneath the Louvre, which happens to be Callaghan’s favorite place on earth. Now it’s all starting to make sense….

Sometimes, when one door closes, another one opens – with a hard right hand.

July 11, 2014August 4, 2018That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

Body Combat class was cancelled at the gym last Saturday because of the holiday. Reluctant to miss a workout, I thought, what better time to find a heavy-bag somewhere? It had been so long!

I jumped online and honed in on a Saturday cardio kickboxing class at a boxing gym near our apartment. Going as a walk-in, I could avoid missing a workout and get in a heavy-bag bonus while I was at it. Their web site said to bring your own hand-wraps, so I knew I’d be punching something.

The ~~rental fee for an hour with the heavy-bag~~ walk-in cost for the class was only ten bucks. I was excited. It’d been about six years since I’d touched a heavy-bag, and just as long since I’d taken part in any kind of martial/fighting arts training (Capoeira and Kali were the last. Boxing, Muay Thai, Tae Kwon Do and T’ai Chi – many people don’t realize it, but T’ai Chi is actually a deadly form of martial arts – seemed ages ago). The last time I’d climbed into the ring to spar was maybe 2008. My six years away from combat sports felt more like six cat years… that would be 40 human years, which is about how long it felt!

The class was fun, and I did get to work the heavy-bag. I had my old hand-wraps that I’d dug out of storage the previous week, and I borrowed some gloves from the gym. During the hour-long workout, we did cardio kickboxing drills (including punching with weights, which I’d never done before, so that was interesting, and throwing kicks), push-ups, bag-work, partner-work and abs. It felt great. I felt great.

Until two days later, when I found myself gobbling four extra-strength Advil as we ran out the door to Monday evening Body Combat. Everything hurt. The boxing gym workout had settled into my muscles, and I literally felt it from my neck down. Trapezius muscles? RIGHT, those exist! And to quote Doc Holliday in Tombstone, “Oh. ~~Johnny~~ Anterior Delts, I apologize; I forgot you were there.” Pecs. LATS! Triceps. Abs. QUADS… I felt the intense soreness in my upper legs just walking.

It didn’t help that I’d forgotten to eat something beforehand, either. In addition to the post-workout soreness, my energy stores felt depleted in class that night. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love feeling that kind of pain again, and I still had a great workout!

When we started Body Combat on Saturday, March 29, Callaghan was looking for general fitness benefits, and I was looking to re-gain my skills and get back into shape after being ridiculously sedentary for over three years (NEVER AGAIN). Three and a half months later, I’m feeling immensely better, but I still have a long way to go. There’s the two Body Combat classes and a boot camp class each week, and sometimes I go an extra day to walk on the treadmill. I feel like I should be doing more.

On Wednesday, it happened again… we had tickets to see Def Leppard and Kiss, which meant ditching boot camp class. We made it up last night by doing a Body Attack class at a different gym location. I’d never heard of Body Attack (like Body Combat, it’s a Les Mills International class). It was a pretty good workout!

Here’s a picture of Callaghan and me at the concert on Wednesday night:

None of our pictures of us came out at the concert, but here’s this, for what it’s worth…

Happy Friday, All!

SAY MY NAME: Victor Heisenberg.

July 8, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

We were talking about the highly anticipated Breaking Bad spin-off television series Better Call Saul the other day, Callaghan and I, and that got me thinking about French actor Jean Reno. Why?

I’m going to tell you.

First, if you’re unfamiliar with Luc Besson’s film La Femme Nikita and/or that T.V. series Breaking Bad, no worries! All you have to do to be engaged here is examine the image below and note that I’m not crazy. In the image, I compare a photo of La Femme Nikita’s Victor le Nettoyeur (Victor the Cleaner) to Breaking Bad’s Heisenberg. See, I have a theory about these two shadowy fictional characters (who happen to be two of my favorite shadowy fictional characters in recent pop culture history).

This is my theory: the persona of Heisenberg is a tribute to Victor le Nettoyeur.

We met Victor le Nettoyeur in La Femme Nikita back in 1990. Anyone remember him? The guy who’s called to the scene of Nikita’s job gone awry, announces himself as “the Cleaner,” then goes on to make an (ironically) atrocious mess? He’s only in the movie for about ten minutes, but within those ten minutes, he manages to steal the show in a gruesome display of dubious decision-making. I, for one, have been an ardent Jean Reno fan ever since.

Here’s a clip, but –

**WARNING! This scene from La Femme Nikita is violent and gory, so don’t watch if it’s not for you!**

…just go directly to 2:10 and watch Jean Reno as he utters two words:

“VICTOR, NETTOYEUR.”

(I was looking for a three-second clip that just featured him saying that, but alas, I could only find full scenes.)I think it’s a riot how he introduces himself with such gravitas!

20 years later, we meet Heisenberg in Breaking Bad. Now here’s that side-by-side of the two:

“VICTOR, NETTOYEUR” on the left. Heisenberg on the right. NOT UNLIKE.

How could this be a coincidence?

The attire. The facial hair. The hats. The villainous demeanor and quirks. The most dramatic difference between the two is Heisenberg’s updated sunglasses style.

If that isn’t convincing enough, consider this:

–In 1990, “VICTOR, NETTOYEUR” dumps corrosive acid on bodies (one of them not quite dead, as it turns out) in a bathtub.

–In 2008, Walter White orders the disposal of a body using acid, and that disposal also happens in a bathtub (though Jesse chose the bathtub against Walt’s instructions) – and two years later, in 2010 (exactly 20 years post-“VICTOR, NETTOYEUR”), Walter’s become the fearsome Heisenberg, who has since established as protocol the usage of acid for body-disposal purposes in (plastic) tubs.

I don’t know about you, but I find there’s something more than a little Victoresque about Heisenberg… and I think that to use Victor le Nettoyeur as inspiration for Heisenberg was a genius move and a marvelous tribute. Well done, Vince Gilligan! Well done.

So that’s what I was thinking the other day as we were talking about the Breaking Bad spin-off Better Call Saul. Incidentally, I’d rather call Saul than “VICTOR, NETTOYEUR,” though I’d call Jean Reno, himself, any day. Just sayin.’

Welcome to the Hotel NOT CALifornia!

July 4, 2014July 4, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

First of all, Happy 4^th of July, fellow Americans! I’m coming at you from a coffee shop this morning because our internet at home is down. And hey, how about that dust storm last night?! The luscious scent of creosote enveloped us the second we stepped outside this morning… it’s going to rain. Monsoon season begins!

Whoa, I’m feeling scattered here. Let me focus on sharing with you my latest favorite discovery.

The first time we spotted a vehicle with a “Not Cal” decal, we did a double-take. The second look was necessary because we’re used to seeing California pride decals that say “So Cal” for Southern California, or “Nor Cal” for Northern California.

We thought we were looking at a “Nor Cal” decal, but the “r” wasn’t right… it looked more like a “t.” It seemed to spell “Not Cal.” Squinting and looking closer, I realized, Hey! It DOES say “Not Cal!” Then I saw that the lettering was centered over a beautiful bronze graphic of the state of Arizona, which was resplendently merged with the Arizona flag. Not California. Arizona. I was stoked.

The AZ flag with its copper star and sunset rays. (AZ is famous for its copper mining industry and sunsets.)

[Side-note trivia: In the 2001 poll taken by the North American Vexillological Association, the Arizona flag ranked #6 on the list of 10 Best Flags in North America – the sixth best flag out of 72 flags! New Mexico’s flag took first place, Texas came in second, and Quebec’s flag ranked third with its elegant fleur de lys design. Interesting, right? See the poll results here.]

Broken down geographically, the residential picture of my life looks like this:

First, I lived in “Nor Cal” for 18 years (born in San Francisco, raised in San Jose), spending most childhood summers with extended family out of state (Hawaii). I moved away after I graduated from high school. I’ve spent the last 27 years in “Not Cal.”

Over those 27 years, I lived overseas for five years (three years and three months in West Germany/Germany, six months in Saudi Arabia/Iraq/Kuwait, one year and six months in France), and five months in Texas… and I’ve lived in Arizona for 20 years and eight months (interrupted only by the time spent in France and Texas).

The point being that I was born and raised in California, but I’ve lived more of my life outside of California than in it, and over 75% of that time, I’ve lived in Arizona. I couldn’t be happier in a place, and I especially couldn’t be happier to NOT be in a place. For all its beauty and the fact that people I love live there, California and I are not a good fit. I’m a California native who feels like an Arizona native, and I’m not alone… we ‘Zonans like to joke that anyone who’s lived in the Land of AZ for 10 years or longer qualifies as a native, since most people who live in Arizona moved here from somewhere else.

(Apparently, a significant percentage of transplants in Arizona come from California. My friend and real estate agent Nick once remarked that every time there’s a natural disaster in California, Californians stampede to Arizona.)

So when I saw the “Not Cal” decal the first time, I was amused.

The second time I saw it, on a different vehicle, I was even more amused, because then I realized that “Not Cal” was a thing, which meant that it could be had. I found it online, ordered it, and Zach-the-Not-Cal guy got it to our mailbox within two days.

Bugsy all glammed-up!

So, Zach and everyone at Not Cal Clothing and Big Cartel (funny coincidence… I’m at Cartel right now), thank you! Thanks for helping us ex-Californian ‘Zonans represent. =)

What I’m Digging Right Now – June Favorites

July 1, 2014July 1, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

June outdid all previous months with its disappearing act. Where did it go? On Friday morning, I said to Callaghan, “Oh, wait… TUESDAY is July 1^st? Didn’t I just do my May Favorites post, like, very recently?”

Several exciting things came to pass in June, but the point of my Monthly Favorites posts is to highlight the little, tangible things that helped to elevate the month. I’m starting with entertainment this time because I have a bit of raving to do with this first thing…

1). Edge of Tomorrow (film)

Let the appearance of this film in my June Favorites post stand as evidence that I don’t hate Tom Cruise just because he hijacked Reacher. (Hijacked Reacher, get it? Haha!) I’m always up for an insane, high-octane sci-fi thriller, and if Cruise is in it, that’s fine with me. We went to see Edge of Tomorrow Saturday evening. The last time I enjoyed a sci-fi action flick that much was Pacific Rim, and I enjoyed this one even more. Edge of Tomorrow is marvelous storytelling and explosive escapism to the nth degree. The Christopher McQuarrie/Tom Cruise team nailed it with this one!

May I just say that movies like this make me wonder why Reacher? Cruise doesn’t need to be Reacher! Let someone who is Reacher be Reacher, and Cruise can keep doing roles like this one in Edge of Tomorrow, because honestly, I can’t think of anyone who could have done it better. He brought his charisma and unique brand of flair to the role, yet we never once found ourselves thinking this is just Tom Cruise being Tom Cruise. In Edge of Tomorrow, Cruise doesn’t simply own his character. He locks it up and throws away the key. That’s a rare thing in an action flick, in my opinion.

I loved Emily Blunt in her role, too, make no mistake… and the story, writing, direction, editing, cinematography and CGI, all amazing. Yes, I would see it again, and maybe even again after that. I enjoyed it that much. The poster slogan reads, “Live… Die… Repeat.” It should be “Watch… Rave… Repeat.”

2). Modern Family (T.V. series)

We fired up season one of this comedy series because of Sofia Vergara, who captured our attention in May in the film Chef. Hilarious! It brings the LOLs in an off-beat Arrested Development kind of way, and it hooked us instantly. We’re in the middle of season four now. Once we’re caught up, we can ~~get our lives back~~ catch up on some movies.

Moving on to skin care and cosmetics….

3). Physician’s Formula Mineral Wear Talc-Free Mineral Oh So Radiant! Powder in Translucent.

Physician’s Formula does it again! Radiant powder is radiant.

What a name for a simple face powder, but radiant, indeed! I wanted to add more of a glow to my skin, and this brightening powder by Physician’s Formula delivers. This is my new setting powder and highlighter in one, and I think it’s going to be a long-time favorite.

Kind of a weird picture, but see the slight glow on my cheekbone? That’s this powder by Physician’s Formula.

I’ll say it again: I love that Physician’s Formula products are cruelty-free (not tested on animals). Not all the products I use are, but at least I’m conscious of the matter, right?

4). Maybelline Eye Studio Color Tattoo 24HR Cream Gel Shadow Eye Makeup in Tough as Taupe 35.

Tough as Taupe Color Tattoo by Maybelline over Urban Decay Eyeshadow Primer Potion.

Another unwieldy name, and this product apparently suffers an identity crisis, as well. Is it a cream? Is it a gel? Could they not make up their minds, so they dubbed it both a cream and a gel? Whatever. This richly pigmented, creamy eye shadow formula wears beautifully, and the “Tough as Taupe” shade is gorgeous.

I mean, in the pot, the color sort of reminds me of wet cement, but it applies as a perfect, soft taupe with just the faintest tinge of a lilac undertone… it’s a lovely, muted, silky gray-beige-lilac, like a smooth old stone. Depending on how much you build up the color, it’s an all-purpose neutral on the medium-dark end of the neutral shade spectrum, a shade that would be flattering on anyone. I apply it with my fingertip over a base of Urban Decay Eyeshadow Primer Potion (cruelty-free!), and it lasts all day… and by “all day,” I mean from 7:00am-11pm.

5). Alba Botanica Hawaiian 3-in-1 Clean Towelettes (Deep Pore Purifying Pineapple Enzyme).

Another time-saver! Refreshing towelettes that clean well and smell great.

(Alba Botanica = cruelty-free!)

This has become my go-to Saturday morning cleanser, because on Saturday mornings, we basically sleep in as late as possible, roll out of bed, fuel up with coffee, inhale some breakfast and run out the door just in time for our 10:00am Body Combat class at the gym. I shower afterward. So, instead of doing my usual morning cleansing and skincare routine, I sweep one of these cleansing towelettes over my face, put on sunscreen and apply a little concealer, Revlon Nearly Naked powder (I don’t bother with the glowy face powder when I’m planning to be drenched in sweat an hour later) and my usual lip-color… just enough to make me feel dressed.

Callaghan loves using these cleansing towelettes, too. They’re refreshing, they leave you feeling super clean, and they smell great. Pineapples. Who doesn’t want to smell like pineapples at the gym on a Saturday morning?

This brings us to the food things on this list!

6). Nature’s Path Organic Optimum Power Blueberry Cinnamon Flax cereal.

My favorite power cereals have always been by Nature’s Path.

I guess the theme for this Favorites post is “Little Things with Long Convoluted Names.”

Anyway, this is my new favorite cereal. I like to sprinkle on a little cinnamon to boost the healthy cinnamon factor, and I add fresh blueberries and almond milk. It’s crunchy and satisfying, and it keeps me full all morning!

7). Pears.

Organic pears from Argentina are everywhere right now, and they’re so incredibly good.

PEARS! Simple. Just pears. But… organic pears. Organic pears from Argentina. Okay, now I’m making pears complicated when they don’t have to be, but they are organic, and they are from Argentina, and these organic pears from Argentina are abundant in all the stores now, and they’re amazingly juicy, sweet and flavorful. They’ve been a staple in our refrigerator for a month. So let’s complicate things even more and make that chilled organic pears from Argentina. Anyway, delicious, is what they are… in a word!

8). Justin’s Organic Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups.

Yes, there are three packs here. I ate one right after I took this picture. Then the next day, I ate another, and the next day…

THESE THINGS. These things are fantabulous, and I ate way too many of them in June. I ate so many, in fact, that I had to stage my own intervention, asking Callaghan to not let me go near them in the store for at least a few weeks. I’m currently in rehab for addiction to Justin’s Organic Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups. “But they’re healthy!” is only relevant to a point. Overindulgence is overindulgence.

Rounding out the list, here are two random things that made me smile extra in June…

9). Cork phone case.

Cork phone case by GAIAM. The design is called “Marrakesh.”

This unusual phone case caught my eye as I wandered the aisles of Office Max one day. I’d been looking for a more protective phone case (the one I’d been using was hard plastic, and I have a tendency to drop my phone), so when this one lured me in with its lovely mandala-like design, I was ready with my justification.

And I did, in fact, drop my phone after I got this case, and the cork did, in fact, insulate the phone on landing! Cork phone cases… recommend.

10). Hummingbird feeder.

I got a hummingbird feeder for Callaghan when he told me that hummingbirds don’t exist in France. You could have knocked me over with a feather when he told me that. (Har, har… couldn’t resist. Sorry.) We brought the feeder home and he mixed the sugar water, filled the bottle and hung it up on an existing nail near the edge of our balcony awning, and presto! We now have a small contingent of hummingbirds who perch and circulate near the feeder, and the pleasurable occasion to sit by the living room window to watch them, especially in the early mornings. We often see the littlest hummingbird hanging out on “his” branch outside our balcony. We call him “Nectar,” and he is beyond adorable, I’m telling you.

Nectar, our favorite little hummingbird! Callaghan took this photo from our living-room.

That’s it for June, Friends! July lies before us, and I’m excited because it’s going to be a month of solid back-in-the-day metal madness… we’re going to see Def Leppard, Kiss, Faster Pussycat (shout-out to Tara!), Alice Cooper and Motley Crue. Some friends from France are coming through town for a few days, too; all of that’s going to happen within a two-week period. Fun times ahead!

Oh, side note (literally): I added these “Monthly Favorites” posts to my sidebar as a category, so if you’d like to go back and see them all in one place, there you go. =)

How to Swear in French, New Car edition.

June 27, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

Sadly, we had to give up our 1999 Toyota 4-Runner, Stevie. She was sweet and quite amazing for her age, but a few months ago she’d started stalling while idling, just at random. Even more disconcerting, the frequency of the stalling episodes was increasing along with the intensifying heat. The day Stevie stalled mid-turn, we knew we had to replace her with something reliable, because the REAL heat hasn’t even hit yet! I wasn’t feeling confident driving her, and I didn’t want to find out how she would react when the temperature climbs up into the 110-115 range.

You don’t mess around with potential car trouble in the summer in Arizona. That is one of life’s absolutes.

Such as it was that we found ourselves at a car dealership a couple of weekends ago – a Chevy dealership, because I’m predictable like that. What can I say? I learned to drive in a Chevy truck, and my last vehicle was a Chevy truck. From Corvettes to trucks, I love Chevrolet. So does Callaghan. After a full day of deliberating and negotiating at the dealership, we leased a new (very pale, silvery-blue) Equinox and drove her off the lot.

Since then, we’ve been bouncing names around, trying to decide what to call her. My first idea, “Samaire,” caused Callaghan to burst out laughing when I suggested it. Of course, in that same second, I realized why.

“Samaire” is pronounced like the French sa mère, which constitutes the second part of Putain de sa mère! – Callaghan’s favorite expletive to yell when other drivers on the road annoy him. “Samaire” would be a terrible name for our new vehicle. If we were to call her “Samaire,” Callaghan would always be yelling that she’s a whore, because “putain” is French for “whore.” Her feelings would be hurt.

“‘Sa mère!’ means, like, ‘F*ck!’ – you know?” Callaghan said, launching an elaborate discourse on the versatility of the expression.

And here I always thought that since mère means “mother,” putain de sa mère was somehow the French equivalent of Samuel L. Jackson’s trademark word, even though that’s not what it actually means… putain de sa mère translates as “his mother the whore,” according to Callaghan.

Well, all that aside, I’ve never had trouble naming a car before we brought this girl home. After two weeks, we still had no idea what to call her. Yesterday, just as we were discussing names such as “Libbets” (after Katie Holmes’ character’s name in The Ice Storm), “Jorie” (after Jorie Graham, a postmodern poet whose work I particularly like), and “Persephone” (the Greek Queen of the Underworld, and also the Goddess of spring/vegetation), we went to get the mail. In the mail was a large yellow envelope from the Motor Vehicles Division, and inside was obviously a license plate.

“Yay! Let’s play the license plate game!” I said when I saw it.

“What is that?” Callaghan’s education in American culture is an ongoing process.

“It’s that game where you look at a license plate and quickly say the first word it spells or brings to mind.”

“Maybe it’ll be her name!” He said it just as I was thinking it.

We opened the envelope. The license plate read:

New license plate for the new girl.

“BUGSY!” We shouted at the same time, cracking up.

See how that works? Just as we’re talking about how we don’t know what to name her, her name arrives in the mail! Et voilà.

Happy Friday, All!

Orange is the New Black, but I’m not the new Asian girl in it.

June 24, 2014June 24, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 2 Comments

I wasn’t going to say anything at first, but now I feel compelled to touch on this:

Since Netflix released the second season of Orange is the New Black on June 6, searches for the show’s new Asian character have cascaded throughout the internet in a continuous gush. I know this because all the cascading has landed droves of people upon the shores of my blog. At first I figured the interest in this mysterious Asian chick would taper off in a few days, but two weeks later, the searches are still going strong. (Mysterious to me, as I don’t watch Orange is the New Black, hence I knew nothing about the girl’s existence until people starting searching for her.)

I’m accustomed to all kinds of bizarre search terms bringing people to thatasianlookingchick.com (especially porn-related ones – I didn’t realize the magnitude of the Asian girl porn genre until I started my blog), but I have to say, this thing with Orange is the New Black took me by surprise. Two weeks after season 2 became available, my search results summary page held more than 25 unique search terms along the lines of “orange is the new black asian chick,” and many of those were keyed in multiple times (one was keyed in 26 times).

So! If you’re reading this because of Orange is the New Black, I’m delighted that you’re here, but I’m sorry I’m not the person you were looking for.I’m just Kristi, That Asian-Looking Chick. (The other one, haha.)

Of course, all of this prompted me to ~~stalk her myself~~ do my own research. It turns out that Kimiko Glenn, the actor in question, grew up here in Arizona, in the Phoenix metro area. I did, too, in the sense that I’m a late bloomer and I moved here in my early twenties and therefore did a lot of my real growing up here (to the extent that I grew up, that is).

That makes Kimiko Glenn and I:

Me on the left. Kimiko Glenn from Orange is the New Black on the right. Two Arizonan Asian-looking chicks on the internet = NOT UNLIKE.

…though I actually don’t think we look that much alike.

(New folks, just so you know, these “NOT UNLIKE” comparisons mostly star Ronnie James and Nounours, my sons of the feline persuasion. I’ve never put myself in a “NOT UNLIKE” before.)

The Arizona/Asian/internet crossover is where the likenesses end, probably. I didn’t see a DOB posted anywhere I looked, but I would bet that I’m much older than Kimiko. I’m not even going to try to guess her age. You know how it is with us Asian-looking chicks… it’s hard to tell.

On the World Cup and Google-Fu Fail (but Google-Octopus Win)

June 20, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 2 Comments

Unlike American football, baseball, basketball and hockey, soccer isn’t a sport that exactly qualifies as a defining feature of American culture, at least at the professional level. It just isn’t to the States what it is to other countries… but that doesn’t mean we’re immune to World Cup mania. The occasion of the FIFA World Cup is pretty much the only time Americans get together to get hyped up about soccer on a large scale.

My first memorable experience with the World Cup was indirect, yet eye-opening: I was living in West Germany when the Berlin wall came down and when West Germany won the World Cup (I was stationed there from 1987-1991). On both occasions, the streets outside my little Ludwigsburg apartment filled with chaos and screaming crowds. One event inspired more hysteria than the other, though. Guess which one? That’s right… the World Cup. It was complete madness. West Germany winning the World Cup in 1990 caused more of a ruckus in the masses than the destruction of the Iron Curtain.

Truthfully, these last few weeks have been so busy that I’ve only been distractedly aware of the World Cup. It was like background noise until earlier this week when an octopus appeared as a Google doodle, and a co-worker mentioned Paul the winner-predicting octopus of yore.

Brazil vs. Mexico. Nobody won.

This was an animated doodle, might I add! Like his inspiration, the octopus went back and forth before choosing the winning team of the upcoming match. Paul the predicting octopus, complete with a halo to show that he’d died and gone to octopus heaven.

Since the real-life Paul departed and no other octopus has stepped up to replace him, a slew of alternate psychic animals are being used as oracles to predict 2014 World Cup match winners. I’ve seen mention of elephants, turtles, pigs, pandas and dogs, and there are probably others. To which I say, good luck to them! The octopus has intelligence in his arms, which gives him a clear advantage over animals with dumb arms. I might be wrong, but it doesn’t seem to me that one can successfully replace a smart-armed animal with a dumb-armed one if your goal (haha) is to have him predict soccer match winners.

How do I know about the intelligence of an octopus’ arms? From watching this educational video:

zefrank1’s commentary dissolves into a winding tangent about Charlotte’s Web at the end (which I find to be hilarious), bringing to mind an obvious replacement critter for predicting World Cup match winners… the spider, another eight-legged marvel of nature!

Anyway, I thought Google’s octopus doodle was a sweet tribute to Paul, and creative little gestures like this keep me from loathing Google outright.

My relationship with Google is complicated. I have trust issues… perhaps Google and I knew each other in a past life and we had a terrible falling-out, with Google betraying me or killing me. Or maybe I don’t trust Google because when I use it, I feel like I’m being subjected to non-consensual surveillance. Whatever the reason, I’ve managed to turn habitual Google avoidance into a sport of its own, actually avoiding it like the plague. (Sorry I’m not sorry for the clichés. I think Google can handle the cliché treatment, and maybe even deserves it.) Many of Google’s interfaces and idiosyncrasies perplex me. I don’t know, I just find a lot of it to be awkward and unintuitive where many Google fans apparently don’t. Big Google-Fu fail on my part? Eh.

I have to say, though, that 2014 has done a great job thus far of taking me out of some of my comfort zones. I had to really start using Google at the beginning of the year (though I resisted as much as I could until resistance became impossible). At this point, I’m fairly immersed in the Google environment: Gmail – two accounts, if we’re including my personal one – Google Hang-outs, Google Docs, Google Calendars, the Google search engine (which I never use on my personal computer, for personal searches) and Google Groups.

Kicking and screaming, but using Google all the same. Go me! Cue the vuvuzelas. I mean, the caxirolas. (Which look to me like hand grenades, but whatever.)

Happy Friday, All!

Blog Design Change!

June 17, 2014June 17, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 2 Comments

I took a critical look at my blog over the weekend and said to myself, “Self, your blog needs a design overhaul.” I clearly remember sitting in the Little House in the Rhône-Alpes in France back in the fall of 2012, selecting and setting up my first theme and writing my first post. Now it’s 18 months and 161 posts later, and I’m in a totally different place in more ways than one. My blog should reflect that, I thought.

I decided on a new theme, found a dusky photo of Tempe Town Lake I’d recently taken from half-way up “A” Mountain (representing our downtown Tempe neighborhood), and, early yesterday morning, asked Callaghan if he would be so kind as to lend his clicking finger to an impromptu photo-shoot, because what better way to start your day than to go outside and take a million pictures of your overly-detail-oriented partner? (I wanted Virgil’s cute cactus garden in the background!) I also updated content where updates were needed and just generally cleaned things up a bit. We threw it all together last night. It took less than an hour, but the minimal, streamlined result pleases me very much.

So that’s the main thing. The only other thing I wanted to tell you about today was… and this is random (with so much going on all over the place, this week already feels more random than usual, and it’s only Tuesday)…

You know you watch too many horror movies when you hear the low tinkling of a classic lullaby from a back corner of your apartment, and when you cautiously venture forth to investigate, the following dialogue takes place:

“Are you listening to a creepy lullaby?” I called to Callaghan, who was somewhere.

Or it’s the ghost of a child. This apartment complex is probably between 50-60 years old, so a lot could have happened.

“I’m watching sleeping puppies and kitties! Haha! I’m almost done, Baby.”

He was in the bathroom with his tablet, watching cute animal videos!

It was Brahms’ “Lullaby and Goodnight,” and actually, I did have an eerie experience involving that particular nursery rhyme when I was a teenage babysitter. But that’s a story for another time.

STEP RIGHT UP to the new season of American Horror Story!

June 13, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

Heading into summer, I can feel my impatience gathering like sand in a dust devil as the new season of American Horror Story comes into focus. The near-future horizon of television is looking sharper, but not less dark… we can’t wait to see the latest iteration of creator Ryan Murphy and crew’s twisted anthology series. There have been three seasons thus far, each interpreting “dark and perverse” in its own unique, brilliant way.

First, we had Murder House.

Then, we had Asylum.

After that, it was Coven.

Now, this fall, we’re in for a….

…which will take place at a spooky carnival in the 1950’s. You know that it’s going to set a new standard in the realm of terrifying clowns.

This is going to be Jessica Lange’s last season, and rumor has it that she’s been practicing her German accent for it. Who’s excited? I AM.

Since we’re on the subject of evil clowns, here’s some Insane Clown Posse for your morning:

“The Great Milenko.” Yes.

Wouldn’t it be amazing if Ryan Murphy were to use some of ICP’s music in his new season? The underrated band could finally get the wider audience they deserve with exposure in AHS: Freak Show. You don’t have to be a juggalo to enjoy ICP.

Happy Friday the 13^th, All!

My Double Phobia Dilemma

June 10, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 2 Comments

Good morning, and welcome to Embarrassing Confessions Tuesday on my blog. (Looking through some recent posts, I noticed that such topics are starting to become de rigueur here.)

Snippet of a mock interview:

Interviewer: You went to war, and you were ambushed. Would you say that was the bravest thing you ever did?

Me: No. The bravest thing I ever did was watch Wall-E.

I have two phobias: claustrophobia and roach phobia. Guess which one is more debilitating?

I’m petrified of roaches. I can’t even look at a picture of one without having a physical reaction. When I started writing this, I thought about checking online for an officially recognized medical term for roach phobia, but I couldn’t because I was afraid that the search would pull up roach images, and my eyes do not need to be assaulted by roach images popping up all over my screen. That’s why I’m going to continue calling it “roach phobia,” and that’s also why I took a picture of Ramsey for this post:

Ramsey, the unroachiest thing I could find to photograph for this post.

Scorpions, snakes, spiders, bees and other flying, stinging critters? They don’t bother me. No fear. Tall, rough-looking transient guy wanders off the street past the inattentive front desk person and waltzes into the women’s locker room at the gym? I’m on my feet, furious, in his face, ordering him out. No fear. A sewer roach? Sends me screaming into the hills. Sheer, unadulterated terror.

Dead roaches freak me out almost as much as live ones. The sight of an upside-down roach carcass makes me cringe, hyperventilate and feel phantom sensations of little roach feet skittering up my ankles.

Let’s touch on my other phobia for a second. Since I started working at my job, I’ve more or less conquered my fear of elevators (a sub-phobia of my claustrophobia), because the elevator is the only way up to my department. Once you’re up there, you can use any of several hidden staircases to descend… but going up, the elevator’s your only ticket.

I’m happy to report that I’m now able to ride an elevator without clinging like a fool to other people in there with me (I have been known to fasten myself to strangers in elevators, barnacle-like), but I wouldn’t say that I’m comfortable in elevators. They still make me nervous, and I still don’t trust them. Throw in the fact that I enjoy the exercise provided by stairs, and obviously, I prefer taking the stairs whenever possible.

My point, you ask?

For several weeks, I’d been in the habit of exiting my office building using the hidden stairs… until last week, when I noticed, in the stairwell, on the floor right in front of the door going out to the street, a rather large, dead roach. On its back. Legs in the air. A roach carcass so old, it’s turning pale (maybe from dust) and somewhat blurry around the edges. Let me repeat: In the stairwell. In front of the door. The door that you have to go through in order to exit.

So NOW, every day when it’s time to leave work, I ask myself:

Elevator or dead roach?

And I have to decide. There’s no other way out of the building. Do I take the elevator down every day, increasing my chances of getting stuck? Or do I step over a large dead roach every day (which necessitates looking at it, which is excruciating) as I exit the stairwell? And is it just me with these kinds of ridiculous dilemmas?

Don’t get me wrong – I’m all about self-improvement. While I’ve made tremendous progress with my elevator phobia, the farthest I’d gotten with my fear of roaches was watching Wall-E, and I was proud of it… hella proud of myself, in fact, for getting on top of my visceral reaction to the, um, casting of that movie. It doesn’t matter that it was animation and the roach was widely considered to be “cute.” A roach is a roach, and there’s no such thing as a cute roach. When the roach appeared, obviously a main character who would endure the entire film, I resolved to sit there and watch the entire movie, anyway. Not only did I manage that, but I even ended up finding it brilliant and actually really enjoying it! This was truly a measure of progress for me, I’ll have you know.

After I noticed the dead roach in the stairwell at work, I continued taking the stairs down for the next few days, but I soon decided that the elevator was the lesser of two evils. If something happens and I get trapped in the elevator, chances are high that I’d be rescued in good time. But looking at a roach every day so I can step over it? No, thank you.

Now, the absolute worst thing that could happen would be getting trapped in the elevator with a roach.

Excuse me while I go find some wood to knock.

PHA!

June 6, 2014June 6, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

When Callaghan decided to create an Etsy shop for his art, we got right down to brain-storming names. “First name, Last name Art” wasn’t doing it for us, and neither was “Callaghan Art.” He wanted the word “Art” in the shop’s name, but he didn’t want to use his legal name or his former professional nom de plume.

We mused on the possibilities for a few moments.

“How about,” I ventured slowly, “‘PHA!’?”

It seemed like a logical suggestion, as Callaghan’s been signing his drawings, paintings and illustrations with “PHA!” since he was six years old. He’s gone through phases of signing in other ways, but he always goes back to “PHA!” – in fact, in the four years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him sign any other way. “PHA!” is his original, default signature.

Callaghan’s signature on one of his latest works.

“True! I’ve been signing as ‘PHA!’ my whole life,” he said enthusiastically. “I can call the shop ‘PHA! Art’.”

Silence as his words lingered in the air.

“Oh… no,” I said, the realization hitting suddenly. “You don’t want your shop to be pronounced…”

“PHAART.” He finished my sentence with a low, drawn-out utterance, then repeated it: “PHAART!”

We were in the truck, on the road, laughing wildly into the hot, dusty wind.

It reminded me of Samuel L. Jackson raising hell on Twitter while watching basketball, as he did last week during the Spurs vs. the Thunder playoffs game, and the Pacers vs. the Heat: “Muphuggaz,” “MUFUKKAS,” “Muthaphukkaz,” “MUTHAFUQQA” and “Muhfugga!!” are just a few examples of the creative spellings he comes up with (for his signature word).

He doesn’t just use it for sports, though!

For Callaghan, “PHA! Art” would indeed be an unfortunate business name. Since you can’t use exclamation points in usernames, his URL would be “www.etsy.com/shop/phaart,” and his email address would be phaart@something.com.

“My address could be “PHAART@yourgeneraldirection.com,” he said, getting into it.

“Maybe you could just use ‘PHA!’ by itself,” I suggested.

He hasn’t decided yet for certain, but we know that “PHA!” will likely be a part of his shop’s name somehow. I’ll report back once his shop is up and running, lest your curiosity slay you.

Happy Friday, All!

What I’m Digging Right Now – May Favorites

June 3, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

May was a long month that brought a slew of healthy challenges. (If there isn’t already a book called The Introvert’s Guide to Surviving a Month of Houseguests, I might write one.) May was also fun, satisfyingly busy, and rife with “little things” that provoked delight. I actually had to decide which ones to feature here! I doubled some up, so the 10-item list below really contains 13 things. Let’s start with…

1). New reading glasses.

Animal print reading glasses in the shadows

Before we went to California for Memorial Day weekend, I went shopping for a summer hat for Mom and ended up walking out of Steinmart with two hats for her and these reading glasses for myself, because seriously, who am I to pass on a pair of animal print reading glasses?

It’s great knowing my prescription, by the way. This purchase was a no-brainer, and in fact, I was hardly responsible… the display of animal print glasses pulled me toward it, and all I had to do was find the ones marked +1.25. I actually needed a pair, though (my rickety old ones fall off my face when I look down).

2). Snapea Crisps Harvest Snaps.

Snapea Crisps! SO GOOD.

Snapea Crisps are an old favorite of mine I re-discovered when we got back to the States. At some point during the month of May, they became a staple in our kitchen. They’re as satisfying as potato chips, but they’re baked rather than fried (0 trans fats, 0 cholesterol), and they carry nutritional value… one lightly-salted serving gives you 5g protein, 4g fiber, 230 mg potassium, 6% calcium and 8% iron. I always count out an exact serving of 22 pieces, because if I don’t, I’d probably consume the whole bag in one sitting.

Nutritional density notwithstanding, I know it’s unhealthy to snack on crispy, salty little things in front of the T.V. – we are aware, and we do try to keep it to a minimum. But… you know. Some things just go together beautifully. Rock stars and models. Desert and rain. Snapea Crisps and Mad Men.

3). Artichokes and cherries.

It so happens that two of my favorite varieties of edible flora come into season in May!

When I bring home artichokes, I keep it simple, boiling them with a bit of olive oil and salt and eating them with grape-seed oil Veganaise. Prepared in this manner, the artichoke becomes a glorious magic carpet that carries me off into a cloud of gustatory euphoria. Forget food porn. The artichoke is nature’s Demerol. We’re still indulging, as they’re having a long season this year.

As for the cherries, they ripened earlier than usual this year in the California orchards… they’re technically more a June fruit than May. Dad took us cherry-picking when we were there with Callaghan’s father, though, so they made it onto the list. We brought home heaps of lovely Brooks and Rainer cherries. Like the Snapea Crisps, I have to ration them out when I start eating them, because I will OD on them (if you’ve ever OD’d on cherries, you’ll know what I mean when I say it’s not pretty).

4). Clif Mojo Dark Almond Cherry Trail Mix bar and Cascadian Farms Organic Peanut Protein Bar.

My new favorite energy and protein bars… and a weird fruit that seems to be a mutant kumquat.

Yet more food!

You know I’m always on the hunt for perfect energy and protein bars, “perfect” meaning simple, delicious and balanced. In May, I discovered the Clif Mojo Dark Almond Cherry Trail Mix bar and the Cascadian Farms Organic Peanut Protein bar, and they are fantabulous both pre- and post-workout. Anytime, in fact.

Now, let’s talk skincare products…

5). Olay Total Effects 7 in One Anti-Aging Eye Treatment.

Olay Total Effects 7 in One Anti-Aging Eye Treatment

I ran out of eye cream in May, so I thought I’d get one I hadn’t tried yet. I picked up the Olay Total Effects 7 in One Anti-Aging Eye Treatment, and it quickly became a favorite. It appears to have a tint of color, but it doesn’t… it’s slightly brightening, and it actually reminds me a lot of Clinique’s All About Eyes (it’s similar in color, and it has the same light, velvety texture and feel on the skin). I put it on twice a day, in the morning and at night. I’m definitely going to re-purchase it once this one’s finished!

6). Garnier Clean Nourishing Cleansing Oil (for dry skin).

Garnier Clean Nourishing Cleansing Oil

I used to use olive oil on my face at night, so when I came across this new cleansing oil from Garnier last month, I thought I’d try it out. The verdict? Love it. It’s light yet rich with jojoba and macadamia nut oils, it smells nice, and it just feels good when I work it into my skin. Now, that part of my nighttime routine is less about removing my makeup and more about my face getting massage therapy. I rinse the oil off with water and follow it up with my normal nighttime cleanser (I’m currently using one by Simple).

7). Victoria’s Secret VS Fantasies fragrances in Sensual Blush and Amber Romance.

Victoria’s Secret VS Fantasies fragrances in Sensual Blush and Amber Romance

May brought warmer weather that I interpreted as an excuse to get a new fragrance. Walking by a Victoria’s Secret one day, I impulsively went in and tested every scent in their VS Fantasies collection on every available square inch of skin on both my arms until I couldn’t smell anything anymore. In the end, I decided to go with Sensual Blush (I got both the fragrance mist and the ultra-hydrating hand and body cream) and Amber Romance (the eau de toilette). I layer them, and the combination is sensational!

8). Chihuly in the Garden

When I realized that artist Dale Chihuly had returned to the Desert Botanical Gardens to show his work again – I’d gone with a friend to see his exhibit there a few years back – I had to seize the opportunity, and it was an excellent circumstance that one of our houseguests was with us at the time. Chihuly in the Garden was quite an unusual treat for a visitor from France! Spring in the desert is magnificent as it is, with all the cactuses in bloom… add the installation of Chihuly’s colorful glass sculptures amongst the desert flora, and you find yourself in a place of sheer alien beauty. It’s like springtime on another planet.

9). Chef (film)

We loved, loved, loved this movie! We loved everything about it… the story, the writing, the cast, the humor. It’s a comedy, and it’s incredibly well-done. I’m not in the business of writing film reviews, so all I’ll say about Chef is GO SEE IT!

10). Evernote

Ooh, online organizational tools!!

Yeah, I know. But what can I say. I had to start using it for work, and now I’m a card-carrying Evernote nerd with a paid subscription for a personal account (in addition to my work account). Two Evernote accounts! Yikes.

I still maintain my beloved Franklin-Covey agenda, though. Paper forever!

That about wraps it up for May. We’re only two days into June and I’ve already noted two things for my June Favorites post, so it looks like another fun month ahead. =)

One Year Ago Today…

May 30, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

Despite our intentions and efforts, a fly on the wall at the end of May last year would have seen us running around chez nous as we prepared to leave the Little House in the Rhône-Alpes and our alternate “places of residence” on the French Riviera. The undertaking seemed monstrous in its magnitude. It felt like we had loads of stuff scattered all over the southern half of France. Wound up in the chaos of making the trans-Atlantic move back to the States, we had to admit that we were no more organized about it all than we were in the days leading up to our (my) move to France 20 months prior, at the beginning of September 2011.

(I say “my move” because Callaghan never actually lived in Arizona, so he didn’t really move to France. He was here with me for just over three months, and during that time it was decided that we had to live in France because of his work.)

Such as it was that our move to the U.S. of A. was slightly less than seamless. It all turned out well, though, right down to Ronnie James and Nounours behaving beautifully, with exceptional patience, in their carriers the entire way. From the 90-minute taxi ride from La Combe to Lyon, to the two-hour layover in Frankfurt, to the 10 or so hours flying to Houston, to the three hours driving from Houston to Austin the next morning (how they appreciated getting to run around in the Houston hotel room that night!), and the final four hours being carted around town as we searched for an apartment (the one we’d initially arranged didn’t work out), waiting to check into a hotel room for a few days, we discovered that our little boys are Amazing. Superstar. Traveling. Kitties!

Those of you who’ve been reading here for a while – thank you! =) – may remember this picture:

Kitties touch down on American soil, and Ronnie James says, “Wrahwrahwrahwrahwrah” in English for the first time.

We enjoyed five months of fun summer/fall times in Texas before I realized where I had to be.

We packed our entire household again, put Ronnie James and Nounours back into their carriers, and headed west to return to the desert. We arrived in the Valley of the Sun on November 9, moved into our Tempe apartment and eased into an unusually mild Arizona winter.

A few weeks ago, in the heart of spring, we visited the Desert Botanical Gardens and felt truly welcomed home as we wandered amongst the desert flora. You can really see the personalities of the cactuses when you visit the DBG:

Hey there, Stranger! Welcome home to the Land of AZ.
(No one sculpted this cactus to look this way, by the way)

Contrary to what some have been led to believe, Arizona is a friendly place on many levels!

So this is my reflection today. One year back in the States. Seven months back in Arizona. It feels so good to be back. When we left Texas, there was still some uncertainty about the future, but the instant we got here, we both knew that we were home.

When we stepped outside early yesterday morning, the rich, heavy fragrance of creosote settled around us, telling us that it was going to rain. Sure enough, within the hour, a few drops fell, and I thought, how could I live anywhere but this magical, intoxicating place?

I first moved to Phoenix after the Gulf War in 1991. It’s been over twenty years, and I still meet people who come here that way… they arrive in some state of limbo or instability, despair or even ruin, and they rise, like the Phoenix, from the ashes. Arizona has a history and even a documented tradition of people moving here in need of healing (even when the reason was mostly consumption back in the 19^th-century). This is a healing place, a land of powerful Native American spirituality and a sunny, dry climate conducive to recovery.

An artistic take on the logo of the City of Phoenix (at Sky Harbor Airport)

On Monday night, we went down the street and climbed halfway up “A” Mountain to take pictures of the sunset with Callaghan’s father, who was leaving the next day. My breath catches at the splendor of an Arizona sunset to this day.

Sunset beyond the Hayden Flour Mill and Tempe Town Lake

Silhouette of the Phoenix skyline against the deepening sunset

Tempe at dusk, between the sunset and nightfall

Happy Friday, All. =)

“Never a dull moment,” indeed!

May 27, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 2 Comments

To avoid naming names of people, places or institutions, I invite you to imagine the following scenario:

You work at a place where brilliant, creative people – artist-musician-dancer-engineer crossbreeds – make cool things.

So you’re on your way to work one day, and when you get to your destination street, you see a bunch of cops and emergency vehicles crowded around the upcoming intersection. You think nothing of it. This is America. A clusterf*ck of cops and emergency vehicles is not an unusual sight.

You get upstairs to your meeting. Most everyone’s already there, except for the person leading the meeting. Then he calls someone in the room to say that he’s been delayed a few minutes, go ahead and get the meeting started.

He finally enters the room, replete with casual yet apologetic haste. He’s late, he explains, because he’d encountered an “incident” on his way in that “involved one of our people,” so he stopped and talked to the detectives to help sort it all out.

Uh….

It turns out that “one of our people” had left his cool-thing-in-progress on the street momentarily, but in that moment (of course), a passer-by found it. Police cars, fire engines and bomb squads arrived. In the end, the authoritative involvement included two cities. The intersection remained closed off for several hours, diverting traffic. News reporters entered the fray. Also, implementing communications safety procedures developed in the aftermath of tragedies at several universities in the nation, university officials alerted the entire community of students, faculty and staff on their cell phones, cautioning everyone to stay inside until an “all clear” was issued.

All because our guy’s project – a kind of animated sculpture resembling a round device with lights and flexible parts and whatnot, I don’t know exactly what – had been left in a box next to a parking meter, an unfortunate happenstance. What are the odds? And what are the odds that the exact person who could un-kerfuffle the whole thing happened to stroll through that intersection on his way to our meeting?

If you can imagine all this, you’ll know I’m not exaggerating when I say that I have an exceptionally un-boring job, as far as office jobs go. (It’s especially impossible to be bored when you go home to another creative genius.)

And on that note, I’m off to get ready for the day, which begins with taking Callaghan’s father to the airport. We’d capped off his visit from France with a side-trip to California to spend time with my parents over the holiday (Memorial Day) weekend. Our month of hosting house-guests has wound down to an end! It was fun, but I have to admit, it’s good to get back to a routine. I like routines.

The Ronnie James routine.

So does the Wrah-Wrah.

“See Photos of Senior Singles Near You!”

May 23, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 2 Comments

Aging doesn’t concern me much. Sure, I’m aware in terms of health and wellness, and I tailor my routine and lifestyle as needed, but what I mean is I don’t go around “feeling” my age. Thus, when I recently started getting spam like this:

and this:

…in my email, it kind of threw me off.

When I got the first one, I blinked and re-read it a few times, and then it was like, Seniors! Okay. I get it. Then I thought, But why did this spam come to my email? Followed by, Oh… right. Duh! I was born in 1968, which my email knows, because when I’d created my account, it demanded that I enter in my Date of Birth. “Seniors” generally refers to the 50+ crowd,* so I guess once you’re within five years of it, you get picked up by the radars that detect your impending age-based qualification for the senior dating scene. Qualifying as ~~fresh meat~~ a potential member of the senior dating pool means that you qualify for all the spam and junk mail that goes along with it, including the junk mail warmly welcoming you into the AARP fold.

(I snort, but I do plan on joining AARP when I’m 50. Discounts all over the place as an achievement award for 50+ years of surviving life’s… ups and downs, shall we say? Sign me up!)

My Ex was 10 years older than me, and when he started receiving AARP stuff in the mail at around age 48-49, he was not happy. I, on the other hand, thought it was cool.

Anyway, the trickle of senior dating site spam into my email inbox has begun, to my great amusement. At worst, it’s disconcerting. I just don’t feel or think of myself as belonging to an age demographic that would prompt spam from senior dating sites.

I’m a “near-senior,” and the spammers know it… because they know everything about us.

If I was single and looking to meet people on dating sites (senior or otherwise), I would have to go all out and embellish my profile with inelegant, poorly-lit, mirror-reflected selfies, like these ones that I took yesterday:

Complete with an old ASU t-shirt.

…and Nounours’ leg on the bed behind me!

At any rate, I think I’ve decided that I’m over the “plotting my mid-life crisis shenanigans” thing. It was more fun to think about it than anything, though getting behind the wheel of that Corvette was assuredly very fun, and my mid-life crisis window of opportunity is still wide open. That being said, the time has come to anticipate and plan for SENIOR STATUS mayhem!! I have been alerted by the spam in my email.

What should I do first? Maybe I’ll carry out my life-long threat to train for and enter amateur figure competitions, because now I could compete in the “Masters” level category (in bodybuilding and in other sports. “Masters” in athletics means “Seniors”). Heheh.

Happy Friday, All!

~~~~~

*I don’t think there’s a standard, across-the-board age requirement for “senior status” in the States. I think in order to qualify as a “senior citizen” in the U.S., you have to be of retirement age, which is still 65… but you only have to be 50 in order to join AARP, whose acronym yet stands for “Association of American Retired Persons.” (By the way, adding on to that contradiction, could someone please explain why an organization calling itself the “Association of American Retired Persons” has a section called “Job Resources” in its sidebar, with links to pages like “Job Hunting Tips,” “Job Search Tool,” “Start a Business” and “Life Reimagined for Work”?)

Pieces of Elvis, and other… packages.

May 20, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

In the last year, Callaghan’s drawings have taken a turn for the dimensional. Using ink on a particular type of plastic sheeting as his medium, he’ll do a drawing in parts, cutting everything out, applying color, and then positioning the parts like puzzle pieces, overlapping them in some places and gluing it all together. He gives the resulting “assemblage drawing” a kind of 3-D effect by stacking layers of small pieces of the plastic and strategically placing them beneath various components of the picture, creating differing heights throughout.

He did a brilliant portrait of my parents using this method, as well as my Valentine’s Day red roses and a stunning tribute to French author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, among others.

My Valentine’s Day roses

But allow me to arrive at the point, lest you think this post is nothing more than a shameless plug for my husband’s art!

Callaghan recently completed and submitted his designs for the 2015 Carnaval of Nice float competition, an annual project of considerable effort and magnitude that takes place in the spring of each year. As I’ve mentioned here before, the Carnaval team creates its parade floats based on the themed designs of the winning drawings. This year, Callaghan employed his new assemblage-drawing method, which meant that when he called me into his studio to check out his progress, I often only saw parts of the completed pictures.

He started with the King (there’s always a King and Queen of Carnaval leading the float parade). He dressed the King as Elvis, since the theme of Carnaval 2015 is “La Musique.”

He drew a few pieces of the King, cut them out, and then called me in to show me his work.

“Oh, cool… Elvis is coming along nicely!” I commented. Then my vision focused on the pieces of the unfinished Elvis and my brain made a connection (as it does sometimes, eventually). “Wait… is that his package?” I asked.

“Hell yeah it’s his package!” Callaghan declared. “Tight white pants.”

Pieces of Elvis.

Of course it’s normal. It’s just that, for one thing, I was surprised because Callaghan doesn’t usually draw male genitalia. Also, when you see a floating leg sans torso, an exaggerated crotch bulge acquires an identity of its own. “Elvis the Pelvis,” I guess, right?

A few weeks later, Callaghan started to work on the L’aigle Niçois (“Eagle of Nice”), another important standing character in the parade, since the Eagle is the symbol/mascot of the city of Nice. Again, he called me in to view his progress.

“No way,” I said, cracking up. He’d drawn the Eagle’s lower half like this:

Pieces of Eagle.

“That eagle… it has an actual camel hump! Hahaha!”

I could see the point where Elvis was concerned, but the eagle? Quite a package, indeed. I guess that’s one way to wrap up a big project!

Well aren’t I just the Fashionista’s Fashionista.

May 16, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

Two things that always attract me when I’m browsing through retail clothing racks:

1). Anything gray.

2). Anything featuring the Eiffel Tower.

(Which is actually an appropriate combination, considering that I’ve never seen Paris when it wasn’t cold, gray and raining… even in June.)

But I mean, I love the color gray, as you likely already know if you’ve been reading here for a while. Gray is to me what sparkly things are to my inner four-year-old, and the Eiffel Tower is my all-time favorite monument… so when the Eiffel Tower lights up and gets on with her sparklicious self late at night, my inner four-year-old and I float away on an invisible carpet woven of delight-bordering-on-euphoria. Many a time I’ve waited, shivering, on a chair at an outdoor café under the black Paris night sky, warming my icy hands on a cup of hot chocolate while staring at the Eiffel Tower. When she finally starts sparkling, it feels like she’s sparkling just for me, because I’d been staring at her so hard. (Speaking of hot chocolate, if you ever visit the Louvre, I recommend that you go upstairs to the Café Richelieu and treat yourself to a cup on the lovely terrace overlooking the pyramid. The hot chocolate at the Café Richelieu is decadence redefined.)

“Yeah, and I know why,” Callaghan said when we were talking about my Eiffel Tower ~~obsession~~ love. This was last week.

“Why?” I wanted to know what he thought he knew about me.

“It’s obvious! The Eiffel Tower is a phallic symbol.” He looked pleased with himself as he said it.

But his words gave me pause.

“Um… the Eiffel Tower is a girl,” I said. “La Tour Eiffel.” Was I really pointing this out to my French husband?

I’d never seen the Eiffel Tower as phallic, or otherwise male in any respect. She’s a she. She’s elegant and strong and magnificent, and if I come across an article of clothing depicting her, I’ll usually at least contemplate buying it if it’s in the realm of possibility.

So when Chantal was visiting from France (she left on Saturday) for a couple of weeks and we went browsing through Ross one day, it wasn’t surprising that I walked out with another Eiffel Tower shirt, thus prompting the Eiffel Tower conversation with Callaghan, who was ever so surprised when I got home and showed him my purchase. I reasoned that I didn’t yet have a sleeveless Eiffel Tower t-shirt, so it made sense to get this one. Plus, it was all of $6.99 (who doesn’t love Ross), and the graphic is in shades of gray. Triple win!

On Wednesday evening, I came home from work, threw the Eiffel Tower shirt on over a sports bra and shorts and headed out to Boot Camp class at the gym. Because the Eiffel Tower – who is a girl – kicks ass.

Here’s the Eiffel Tower waiting for class to start:

At Boot Camp class with the Eiffel Tower.

Later, I snapped some pics wearing the shirt with a couple of different attitudes, because this particular Eiffel Tower asks for it. Also, it’s been months since my last silly “picture of me in a t-shirt” post (inside joke), so why not go ahead and derp my way through a couple with the Eiffel Tower?

The Eiffel Tower, “And your point is?” style.

The Eiffel Tower, ’80’s Billy Idol style.

Happy Friday, all! =)

1:30AM Post. File under “I’m Even a Bigger Dork than I’d Thought.”

May 13, 2014May 13, 2014That Asian-Looking Chick 2 Comments

Hi. You must be here because you wish to read about last week’s Fiasco of the Week, because you know there was one.

This one involved a stench hovering like a putrid cloud near the corner of our bedroom, near my side of the bed. I noticed it as I was falling asleep one night early in the week. It was a distinctively organic smell, so I just assumed that either Ronnie James or Nounours had had an accident or sprayed, neither of which they’d ever done (since we’ve had them, anyway), but it wouldn’t have been surprising; their demeanors had been somewhat off-kilter due to recent, albeit temporary, changes in their routine. You know how cats are about their routines.

We sniffed all around the corner of the bed, trying to identify the odor’s exact location and source – up near my pillow, where it seemed to be the strongest. We stripped the bed of its sheets, mattress cover, pillow cases, bedspread… and threw the whole shebang in the wash. We cleaned the bed’s headboard and side planks. We pulled the bed away from the wall and sprayed pet odor neutralizing carpet cleaner on the carpet, though there was no stain to be seen. Just to be sure, we scrubbed the pristine brick wall behind the bed with soap and warm water, and then went over it again with a “green” all-purpose cleaner.

The smell didn’t go away. In fact, over the next few days, it worsened.

We weren’t angry with Nounours and The Wrah-Wrah, because we understand How Kitties Are. But by Wednesday evening, I became convinced that the kitties weren’t the culprits, after all. The odor seemed to be coming from something that had died. It had that sweet/sharp cloying dead smell. We performed another exhaustive search and found nothing.

On Thursday night, I stood near the bed, utterly perplexed. We’d done absolutely everything, but the odor was stronger than ever! I couldn’t bear the idea of sleeping with my nose in the ghastly fumes another night. There was only one thing left to do. It was drastic, but it had to be done. Obviously, the odor was either coming from the carpet or the wall, and it was being very stubborn. I would have to outsmart it. I would have to move the bed to the opposite wall.

Moving the bed entailed the rearrangement of pretty much all the furniture in the room, which I did by myself, because Callaghan and Chantal had gone out to Rawhide and elsewhere.

Honestly, though, I enjoyed the chance to get more exercise into my day. Because our queen-size bed is a sleigh bed, it’s heavy and ungainly, and I had to get all the other furniture out of the way before I could re-position it. I moved out the chest of drawers, the two night-tables, the long under-the-window table (aka the kitty window seat), my desk and chair, the corner shelving thing (no idea what it’s called), the vanity-less vanity stool (the vanity itself is outside on the balcony, having been re-purposed as a table for plants) and the clothes hamper. I shoved it all into the hallway, the bathroom, Callaghan’s studio and the main room, along with the objects that had been on the floor and on the furniture surfaces. Then I worked on moving the bed, which had to be turned around 180 degrees. I did some dragging and pulling, but I mostly sat on the floor, planted my feet on the bed and used it as a leg press. Great work-out! Once the bed was situated in its new spot, I could move all the furniture and stuff back in.

In the end, I’d basically flipped the room around, putting the bed and one of the night-tables against the wall opposite from where they used to be, and the chest of drawers, my desk and chair, the other night-table (there’s no room for a table on both sides of the bed now that the bed is against the wall with the door) and the vanity stool on the long wall where the bed had been. I returned the long, low table to its spot under the window, so the kitties could keep their window seat… it’s a tight squeeze getting around that side of the bed, but it works. I folded the corner shelving thing, leaning it up against the wall, since there’s no longer an available corner for it.

I stood back in the doorway to examine the new configuration, and I liked it. The room still looked good, and the mysterious awful odor would no longer be next to my head at night. Plus, I’d gotten an amazing impromptu work-out while I was at it. I’d worked quickly for a full hour, taking no breaks, pushing, pulling and carrying furniture, removing the heavy drawers from the dresser and hauling them out and back in, holding each one high up in front of me to get around stuff piled up in the hallway. I’d maneuvered the cumbersome queen-size sleigh bed around to the opposite wall, and moved everything else back in. I’d vacuumed along the way, working up a sweat and getting my heart-rate up (great cardio-respiratory work-out in addition to strength-training)!

I must admit, it was gratifying to discover the extent of the progress I’d made in regaining my strength and endurance since dedicating myself at the gym in Body Combat and Boot Camp classes (and the occasional hour on the treadmill) over the last few months. I was happy to feel more like my old self again while making strenuous physical effort. My fitness levels are getting back up to where they were before I moved to France – check! The bed was no longer against the wall with the horrid odor – check!

I felt quite satisfied and pleased with myself.

I went into the kitchen to wash my hands before going around the apartment to collect the random objects that belonged in the bedroom, and… the dead smell was in the kitchen. It hadn’t been there before.

It hit me the second I got there. I stood still and inhaled the offensive odor as my disbelieving eyes followed it to the counter by the sink. The flowers that Callaghan had given me 10 days ago were sitting there where I’d placed them before moving the bedroom furniture.

The dead flowers. The flowers that I’d set on my night-table back when they were fresh… the night-table next to my side of the bed. The flowers had expired, and they reeked. I cautiously bent my head to smell them. The dead flesh odor was unmistakable. There was no doubt about it. I’d found the source.

I couldn’t believe it. All along, the offending odor had come from a vase of dead flowers!

All I had to do was remove the flowers.

But I do like the new room arrangement, and so does Callaghan (who is still laughing at me for this, by the way). I’m enjoying my new office corner even more than my previous one, as well.

My new office corner in the bedroom!

And I got in a great work-out.

And the room is more in keeping with good feng shui principles now that our feet aren’t facing the open doorway while we’re lying in bed.

And in the end, I did manage to get rid of the odor.

And I learned to be more mindful of flowers that have died and require disposal!

I put the noxious flowers out on the balcony so I could present my discovery to Callaghan when he got home. As Johnny Ringo (Tombstone) would remark in perfectly bad taste, “Smells like someone died.”

They were lovely when they were alive, though.

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