It's astounding, time is fleeting, Madness takes its toll

Oh yah, Hi. Remember me? I write a blog here. Though you wouldn't know it. Yah, that stale bread smell you're getting right now...that's LAST week's blog.

I feel obligated to apologize, but then think, "Why?" So I'm busy. You'll have to deal with it while I struggle to find my happy place again. Some day. I will find that happy place.

Work is insane. The "crazy" side of me actually likes that it's insane. The "other" side misses the boring side of the house that lived with me for a couple of months. I knew when things were slow, that one day in the near future I would miss those slow days. And I do.

It's been an interesting couple of weeks for me. I've had several highs and lows emotionally with regards to work. I've had days where I've questioned how on earth they could have chosen me to work this program. I was able to almost convince myself that the reason I was "chosen" was because PMDude was on vacation that day. They're first choice was out of office, so they "settled" for me. Those were low days for me.

I've also had days of extreme confidence. Where I could walk into any situation and I knew, I just knew, I was a winner. That I was chosen for this role for a reason. They saw my potential and were giving me a chance to shine.

The reality is somewhere in the middle. Each day the confidence in my ability grows and I become more and more familiar with the requirements of this program. I'm challenging people who I normally wouldn't challenge and I'm okay with making decisions and directing the program a certain way.

I still do and will have to rely on the Dream Team. The experience that lives in this team I can't ignore. I've accepted that I'll make mistakes. It's a given. I wouldn't be able to grow if mistakes weren't a part of it. I've also accepted that I will have successes. Granted I'm hoping for more successes, and they'll be there. Overall though, at the end of the day, I can't wait to hear this team we're working with say, "We can't believe we survived this long without you." That, my dear friends, would be music to my ears.

What I am finding difficult to deal with is the office politics. I've never been good at politics. I think they're a waste of time and energy. I've never understood why there are individuals who have to posture and position themselves at the expense of the team or the company. Yet its becoming painfully clear that I not only have to welcome the politics, I may have to play a bit in their sand box. Thank god sand brushes off relatively easy.

In other non work related news, the parental units are here before they take a jet to Alaska. Its been nice having them around. It's been painful and frustrating to see Dad's - dare I say - progression with Alzheimer's. I just don't know how mom does it. I spend a couple of hours with him and I'm frustrated. I find I have to constantly remind myself that it's not him. It's not him. It's the disease. But man, it is hard to separate the two. Every time I see him I have a lot more understanding and compassion toward not only the MomUnit and what she deals with, but with any person who has to deal with taking care of a spouse.

And then I had a sad thought, "Who's gonna take care of me when I lose my mind?" The momentary realization that maybe no one, scared the insanity right out of me. How lonely it will be...how I sooo don't want to do that.

But I'll have to deal with that later. Right now I've got to turn back the hands of time and start to answer the 206 emails sitting in my inbox.

It's just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right....Let's do the time warp again

I can hardly believe that 1) it's June 24 and 2) It's Wednesday. I swear I blinked and 6 months went by and 3 days this week...gone!

I suppose the new work on my plate has caused time to fly. Every noticed when you're slammed that time just jets by without even leaving a calling card. I start the day at the same time I always do, 6:30 am - ish and before I know it I'm ready to go home. I can push away from my desk and feel like I've worked all day, but I can't really put a finger on what I'm doing.

Good news though, I am starting to dream about my job. That is my signal that I'm starting to get it. I'm starting to find a subconscious way to place the flood of information that's in my grey matter. I know when I hit this stage that it's just a matter of time before a sudden click will take place and everything will make some sort of sense. It's like when you put that last piece of the puzzle in and you sit back and admire the picture. I'm almost there.

Still stressed about being able to do this job successfully. It's a perfect opportunity to soar like an eagle, or I can crash and burn. But dammit I'm not going down that self pity path anymore. I can only do my best and see what happens. I sorta feel like I need to create my own serenity prayer that includes a line about "I accept I'm going to fail. And I accept that it's okay to fail." I can only learn from my failures. And I can almost guarantee there will be some blood baths.

But never fear, I'm getting there. I'm starting to feel way more confident about this job and way more sure of what I can and do bring to the table. At least that's how I feel now after a glass of wine.

The Hot Barbecue Man

I'm not quite sure what to say for Father's Day this year. It's rare, I know, that I would be at a loss of words, but I worry that anything I say won't do my Dad justice. I don't think I'm alone in this either. If you've been fortunate to be that kind of Daddy's Girl, you know what I mean. It's hard to describe a man who molded your life.

Dad was born in 1934 in a very small town in Eastern Washington. Things were tough back then, and yet the family survived. Dad graduated from high school (a graduating class of 4 I might add - or maybe it was 6 - but either way it was small). Then he set out to see the world.

I realize as I write this that I don't know what my Dad's dreams were back then. Did he dream of traveling? Did he think he'd have to stay in Irby and work the farm? Did he want to marry? Have kids? Did he accomplish any of his dreams? Has he regretted anything? What's his most memorable moments in his life? I need to ask these questions.

Dad's doing better these days, and for that I'm very grateful. We've had a few scares and I'm sure there are more to come. He's at that age now where a trip to the hospital is almost the rule instead of the exception. I hate this. My parents were supposed to live forever. They ....nevermind...I' can't write this line of thinking.

So today I just wanted to say Thank you Daddy. Some of my most memorable days are with you. I will forever cherish our little Father-Daughter outings we've had every year and can't wait to go again. I am proud to say so many of my character traits were instilled in me by watching you. By watching you be a man with integrity, love and compassion. So thank you. But let me not forget the most important thing you taught me...

Oh yah, BBQ'ing. I wouldn't be the self titled Master now if I hadn't grown up in a household in which you would have BBQ'd spaghetti if you could have found a way. Though for dinner tonight I won't be BBQ'ing. No instead one other meal comes to mind when I think of my dad...Pot Roast. So tonight, Dad, Dinner's on me. (which means if you know me at all it may literally be on me.)

And as I close this and wish you a happy Father's Day I'm reminded of a quote on a mug I once bought you, "Any man can be a Father, but it takes someone special to be a Daddy." XOXO

Life=Risk

I laugh how things come into your life at the most opportune moments. Receiving this video today from a random friend, priceless.

" I feel good; I feel great; I feel wonderful ... I feel GOOD; I feel GREAT; I feel WONDERFUL!"

I'm sitting here tonight watching the sun dip into the horizon. It's casting a beautiful pink hew across the sky. Suddenly I feel extraordinarily content. Relaxed even. Could a sun set really make one feel so content? Or...could it be the wine?

ahem

Big stuff happening all around me. And I mean BIG!

A couple of weeks ago I may have mentioned an large amount of stress brewing. I was asked to interview with Hotel CaliforniaSoft as a Program Manager. We were bidding on an enormous piece of work, and I'd be the Program Manager is we won it. Let me make one thing clear here...I am a Project Manager! I've never managed a Program of this size ... ever. We're talking millions of dollars over the next several years.

I was stressed to the max. I had an overwhelming feeling of doom should the interview not go so well.

As it turned out they loved me. Who knew I could be so charming? My interview, coupled with our excellent other team members work, won us this HUGE deal...which I now affectionately call it the Big Ass Deal (BAD). I'm now officially the Program Manager for a large chunk of change and the stress I thought I felt for the interview was nothing by comparison to what I feel now. Overwhelmed is a understatement.

Logically, I know I'm not alone in this. I have a fantastic team made up of some very talented and smart peeps. They are way smarter than me and have a ton more experience. I plan on tapping into that experience as much as possible.

Logically, I know I will most likely be fine. I'm a fighter. I'm think back to 4 years ago working at the Cat Shack in which I was deemed to "never be a PM" by them. All those old, lingering, thoughts of self doubt come trudging back with a vengeance. But still, I know that most likely I'll do fine.

Logically, I know I can do this. I know that I have the brain power and the stamina I'll need to get this massive BAD off the ground. It'll be ugly at times, and most likely blood will be shed. But I keep telling myself that the opportunity to shine is huge. I can be seen as a humongous success...and yet...I can also be seen as a huge failure with dire consequences.

Still, I have doubts.

I know there are two things I must do immediately in order to keep myself confident.

1. I must stop saying outloud to others that I'll suck at this. I most certainly don't want anyone to see the fear I have of complete and utter failure. I most certainly don't want to taint the views of those in powerful positions and have them start to question their decision to give me this program (which probably only really came to me because I'm a US based PM ... ).

2. I must start saying I'm a winner. I can and will make this Program the best and most successful program ever. I have to remind myself that while there will be battles that I will win and lose, I will not lose the war.

Right, it sounds so easy in writing.

I have had moments of pure panic that washes over me. The enormity of this $9M hits me hard at times and I shudder and want to crawl into my bed and never come out. But, as it turns out I found the cure for panic attacks. Ice cream. Who knew?

I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm scared. I also think I most likely wouldn't be human if I wasn't. The responsibility lingering above me scares the poo right out of me. But the thought of being a complete success and having one thing to really sink my teeth into makes me feel all giggly and geeky inside.

On a more fun note. Say hello to Baby Newlywed/Stalemates. Jack came to us last Monday at a whoppin 9lbs 11oz and 20 inches long. I've not officially met Jack yet as the "Rents" are hording them all to themselves and trying desperately to get a grip on having a newborn...but I'm sure very soon I'll be seeing this little devil. So to the Newlyweds I say, congrats. He's a lovely boy!

What happened to Honey?

I'm constantly amused at how a seemingly normal conversation can turn into a a walk down memory lane.

Remember way back when, when we had cassette tapes. Well, all the rage was to make mixed tapes. At least in my little neck of the woods. Blueberry and I would make several mixed tapes a year. I, being the ever so efficient one, would hate to leave blank space at the end of a tape. I never could get the recording just right so a song ended when the tape ended. So 90% of my tapes had a song cut off in the end. Which normally wasn't such a big deal.

Then came Honey. Not an overly thrilling song, and a little bit dippy. But Blueberry and I loved this song.

I put Honey on the end of a mixed tape at some point, and it cut out right before you find out in the song that Honey dies. So Blueberry and I used to joke and say, "I wonder what happens to Honey?" Which of course telling that story today to Mrs. Geek (I have no idea how we got on the topic, but we did), made me think about sharing the story. Don't you feel blessed?

My favorite part of this song are the lyrics, "She was always young at heart, Kinda dumb and kinda smart"...what? Kinda dumb?



Our conversation rambled from Honey to other dumb songs that Blueberry and I used to make fun of...and Teen Angel was one of them. I remember listening to it's lyrics and thinking, "this is the dumbest song ever". I get the drama of the time and I get how innocent and pure the music was thing, but really, "I'll never kiss your lips again, they buried you today." What kind of lyrics are those? They just make me laugh.

After the Honey conversation, Mrs. Geek and I had to start searching YouTube for other bad music that plagued the 70's. And I ran across this.



OMG....I was sooo a Shawn Cassidy fan. I had a satin jacket with his head air brushed on the back - actually it may not have been air brushed because this was WAY before air brushing was a big thing. Anyhow, I have a vague recollection of getting the jacket for a birthday and then promptly growing out of it...but I loved that jacket and Shawn Cassidy. Watching the video today my first thought was, "I bet he was gay."

And of course Shawn Cassidy led to Andy Gibb and Andy Gibb led to the Solid Gold and the Solid Gold Dancers...and then it just went way down hill from there.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go find out what happened to Honey.

A Grill by Any Other Name...

So HikerGirl and MarathonMan are moving. I know, sniff sniff. They will both be missed - a lot. But Montana skies are calling and they just can't help themselves. That, and a job offer.

In the decision of what goes and what stays there lived a Grill. It was a beautiful Grill. Only a year old or so. Only used a couple dozen times. It was a lonely Grill in need of some adventure and some serious Grilling. MarathonMan felt somewhat bad for the Grill. He knew that his Montana Grill and his Kirkland Grill wouldn't get a long, and really who needs two Grills? So what to do?

When suddenly a brilliant, bright light bulb lit above MarathonMans noggin'. "Why, I'll give it to the Grill Goddess," he thought. Running the idea past HikerGirl and it was decided that the Grill Goddess (who didn't even know there was a grilling "season". What's that all about?).

The phone call was made. The lonely Grill would no longer be lonely, but instead live with the Grill Goddess and the two would live happily ever after.

And look! A Big Black Beast of Burden has graced the Grill with His presence and has confirmed the Grill is good. In fact I believe he said, "you can now cook me fish or chicken on it?" And we did. The Grill Goddess allowed MarathonMan one last horrah with his Grill. He was sad, though I don't think we saw a tear in his eye.

I am NOT a boy!

So the Stang went in today to gets its innards cleaned out (aka oil change). Last time the Stang was in for innards cleaning was in December 2008. I hadn't reached the mileage goal they put on that very unattractive sticker on your windshield until this weekend. In case you're not mathy...that's SIX MONTHS....without going 5,000 miles. WHOA!

I drove to my dealership for the cleaning since I really like the service manager there. He so doesn't treat me like a woman. You know the type. They talk to you as if they would rather be talking to your husband. Or worse they sound all patronizing when they explain car stuff to you. Ugh. Anyhow, Mr. Service, as I'll call him, has a memory of an elephant. I've not been in there since December and he remembered I was moving. Who does that? (And yes mom and Her Royal Geekness, I checked and he had a ring on.) Anyhow, Mr. Service jogged out to greet me at my car when I pulled in behind him. Right behind him was his "assistant" I'll call Bubba. Because "Bubba" puts an idea immediately in your brain, most likely, of someone who's not quite playing with a full deck. Bubba has a very glossy look on his face that reminds me of a deer in headlights. Mr. Service has assured me before that Bubba is a gifted mechanic. Right!

I handed over my keys and asked Mr. Service to check the exhaust because it's been rattling when I shift after over accelerating from 1st gear to 2nd...not that I do that too often. Uh huh. And so off I went to sit and wait. Not 2 minutes later Mr. Service comes out to say he has the car up on the wrack and would I like to see underneath my car.

Now, I must have had some kind of goofy, giggly, excited look on my face - and I know I wasn't jumping up and down like a school kid who's getting ice cream for dinner - because Mr. Service said, "You're such a boy." Am not!

Just because a girl gets excited about seeing underneath her car does not a boy make. I'm just sayin'.

So Mr. Service escorted me out to my car. Bubba standing underneath it looking non to bright. The two of them began to show me the brakes, the struts, the exhaust system and how it worked, the suspension, etc. I was in heaven. I can't, of course, tell you anything they said because, well, frankly I really don't care. But I did care to see underneath my car...you never get to see under there.

The Pony is all good to go now. I swear it drives better after the innards get cleaned out and the car washed. It's like a brand new car. Which, BTW, I did wonder over to the lot and drooled on a 2010 the same color as mine - oh and I think I left some drool on the yellow one too. I actually sorta felt like I was "marking" my territory with all my drool.

$1.5M Dollars toward ending breast cancer forever

Today was the Seattle Race for the Cure. Thousands of men, women, children, dogs, and all types showed up to support the local affiliate of Susan G. Komen. It, as it always is, is an incredible experience. So many people sharing the love.

I didn't walk this year. Instead I was photographing the volunteers doing what volunteers do best.... Blueberry and her team walked this year - and sadly they were walking for their friend Rebecca who is no longer with us. - A moment of silence please - *sigh*. I took a couple of shots in the Survivor Breakfast of Blueberry's team the Dancing Dahlias, and I gotta say, I had to choke back a tear without Rebecca being in the mix.

So for several months now, Blueberry has been on the campaign to get a photo of her with Edgar Martinez - form Seattle Designated Hitter and a well loved sports legend in the Northwest. Well today was her day...as was mine. Though she beat me to getting a photo first, she deserves it considering how much she loves this guy. But that doesn't mean I didn't get my chance. The beautiful woman in the photo with pink hair - yes I felt I had to point out which beautiful woman - is Holly, his wife.

All in all it was a good morning. I got some pretty good shots, I think of most the volunteers and a few other photography things. I do think something is seriously wrong with my camera though. I had a great shot set up with a mom and her daughter in a very emotional hug...and my camera stalled.

Oh and Ford is a sponsor of the RFTC and you'll never guess what they had within grasp of my greedy little fingers....a 2010 Mustang. Ford does this Warrior in Pink thing in which they donate $$ for each test drive of the 2010 Mustang. Last year they had an actual Breast Cancer decked out Mustang - which they're not doing this year. But never fear, I did get my photo with the Stang...wiped off my drool after too. And yes, I did try to open the door and see if I could sit in it...but someone was WAY smarter and had it locked up tight.

If you want to see all the other photos I took, I've posted them here.

I closed my eyes, the moment that I surrendered to you.

I have just one word to describe the il Divo concert last night. And it's not the words one would normally think ... adjectives like Fantastic. Or Awesome. Or Glorious. No, the word that comes to mind is a simple 5 letter word....

drool

That's it. Any woman with an ounce of XX chromosomes knows what I say when I say "drool". Its that momentary feeling you get when you see a hot lad and you have to literally check the corners of your mouth to make sure you aren't, in fact, drooling. I took extra napkins with me to the concert just in case.

But my goodness. In fact, PM Goddess said it best when Carlos started singing a song, she said, "it's like dark chocolate." And again any XX reader knows how glorious and luxurious dark chocolate is.

I've been awed in my life by several sites. The site of the Roman Colosseum standing strong after hundred of years. The site of thousands of women and men walking to fight breast cancer. Both rivaled by the il Divo concert.

Now I get some people may not understand the pull, but I gotta tell you, when a foursome's crescendo reaches it's peak, with all 4 voices smooth as glass hits you and pushes you back in your seat...well, it was almost enough to make me find religion.

So in case you didn't get the point yet, they were, quite frankly, one of the best concerts I've seen in my entire life. And yes, even better than Duran Duran and DMQ. I know, right? That's telling you something right there.

Only one song got me a bit teary eyed, okay three, but one where I had to really choke back the tears. Amazing Grace. That song just does me in no matter. I think I want that sang, by il Divo preferable, at my memorial. After said singing, DMQ can come out and y'all can have one bit 80's party on me.

So the other songs they sang that buckled my knees was the Impossible Dream and Mama. They've never actually recorded Impossible Dream, but by the standing ovation they got I suspect they may. Of course, the standing ovation could have been because it was their last song and no one in the audience really wanted it to end.

Even now listening to the crisp tenor and deep baritone singing A Mi Manera (My way), it just gives me chills. (God knows the chills aren't caused by the weather...no it's 92 out right now...ick).


Carlos (said baritone) could still be my husband. He only need to ask. And when he's done talking he is to never talk again. Only sing and look pretty. I see nothing wrong with this engagement. I may have to teach him the "proper" way to speak Spanish. Being that he's Spanish (as in Spain Spanish) he tends to lisp words like caricia (Spanish pronunciation: CAR-E-THEE-A). Ick. (That's the Spaniard in the photo below on the big screen)

Oh hold please, Amazing Grace is on the iTunes. A moment of silence please.

Okay, where was I? Oh yes, I was slobbering over the Spaniard.

Right, so if you get a chance, I highly recommend this group. They are well worth the $. And thankfully the seats we had were, while "cheap seats", fantastic in this particular arena. Granted I would have liked to sit in the $128 seats that were surrounded by the stage, but alas, I need my rich il Divo-ito for something like that.

Oh and the title of the blog comes from a song called "Every time I look at you." and well it made my heart do a little flippy flop because I was certain they were singing to me, section 205 row 7 seat 8.

So with that I leave you with this last thought before I go and get a napkin to clean up the puddle of drool I've left on the keyboard. Life as I know it changed drastically yesterday. I can't really go into it right now, but soon. It's nothing serious. Only goodness (well realistically some pain) can come from it. To quote The Impossible Dream:

This is my quest,
To follow that star --
No matter how hopeless,
No matter how far.

I think I may make this my new Theme song!

Hello my kittens...hope you all had a fantastic weekend. It couldn't have been a nicer weekend in the Pacific NW. Sunshine galore and it allowed for some fun times to be had by all.

Friday found me at home doing my thing. Nothing overly exciting.

Saturday found me at the Rat City Roller derby again. Two bouts, the last being the seasons finals between Socket Wenches and the Derby Liberation Front (DLF). DLF walked away with the title again. BigBro, Wifeypoo, and I enjoyed ourselves tremendously. It's like a People Watcher's Mecca. All types were there. Oh and Chris Ballew from The President's of the United States sang the National Anthem and then did the half time show. He and his family sat right by us and they looked quite normal.

Sunday I was up and out to the beach to shoot a 5K walk / run at Alki. PhotoGirl was organizing this and asked if I'd help out shooting at the turn around. BigBro and I did just that. Wow...it's like drinking from a fire hose when the pack of runners hit us. It was basically just holding down the shutter to get as many photos as we could. It was so sunny so we didn't care. My arm hurt like the dickens though for holding the camera up for so long.

But the big news on Sunday was I walked two miles with no pain. Yes, you read that correctly. I walked a whoppin' two miles (which is really just a joke) but the no pain part is the big deal. AND my feet didn't hurt after - besides just being tired. yay me.

I had intended on heading into Seattle to take pictures of the SGK Fashion show. The Stang had other plans. The stang threw a shoe on the route. Flat tire...blah! After first emptying the contents of my trunk and cursing myself for not cleaning out the trunk, and 45 minutes of doing my darn-d-est to get the lug nuts off, I relented and called Ford Roadside Assistance. 2 hours later I was home. By then I missed the fashion show and was a bit bummed that I had.

Tomorrow...oh...tomorrow night will be the night of all nights for some time. Me and two UK Bloke - ettes are going to see iL Divo. Oh gosh, I drool just typing their name. Yes please, I'll have one of each. And if you haven't seen their video of Amazing Grace...see it now. I get the goosebumps anytime I hear this song anyhow. And God forbid it's bag pipes playing it...I'm a slobbering mess...but these guys...they do it justice.

I am also working on a plan to spend the rest of my life with the Spaniard, Carlos, of the group. He's the one who sings after the bag pipes...and he's just yummy to me...and considering my love affair with Spaniards and how far back it goes...Although Urs from Switzerland will be hard to pass up... Oh and David from the US...all 35 years of him could make the rest of my life a living bliss...and who can then forget Sebastian...he is, after all, French. And French guys...Ooo lala! I just can't decide. Maybe I can have one for each quarter of the year. That seems reasonable to me. And when they aren't with me, they can be with Lead Bloke-ette, the PM Godess.

Oh and just for you Mom - if you're reading this...we upgraded our tickets to have Dinner in the VIP lounge...you think we'll get a visit with these guys? Oh I hope! I hope! I hope!

Tell me no secrets and I'll tell you no lies...

Happy Friday. And what a beEEUtiful Friday it is. Sunny and 80 here in the Pacific Northwest.

As I'm pulling the trigger on the weekend, I reviewed my weekend plans and wondered where I'm going to get the rest one deserves on the weekend. While the week was a short week, it seemed shockingly long. Am I the only one who felt that?

Right, so this weekend. First it'll be sun, sun, sunnyROO...perfect weather for the busy.

Tomorrow night is another trip to the Rollerderby. Yay. Socket Wenches vs DLF and Throttle Rockets vs Grave Danger. BigBro and Wifeypoo will be joining with me. I've got my rule book in hand and am ready for a little body checking.

Sunday I'll be up bright and early to shoot runners/walkers at a local 5K fundraising run organized by non other than PhotoGirl. BigBro and I will be standing at the turn around point and snapping frantically to get all the runners/walkers we possibly can. Not overly photography esk in that I won't be putting any artsy flair to it, but it should be a challenge none the less. After the turn around point, BigBro and I will hand around and shoot other things at the fundraiser.

After that I've been asked to shoot a fashion show for Survivors at a Susan G. Komen sponsored event. Last minute request and I don't really have all the details, but it should be a ton of fun all the same.

Other than that, the weekend will be filled with cleaning. Have some guests visiting next weekend and so will need to clean a bathroom or two and make the Murphy Bed for guests.

In other news, the sesamoiditis "fix" has been, how do I say this...um challenging. The wearing of the pads has adjusted how I walk and consequently put my legs and hips in a bit of pain, and my feet a bit sore too, but in a different way. The contrast bath has been - um - well, let's just say I haven't quite made more than 5 minutes total in the ice water. It's so dang hard to sit in ice cold water. It actually hurts. But I'm doing what I can and trying to push through it. All in all though, my feet do feel a bit better at the end of the day, and WAY better in the morning. Dr. Foot must have really known what he was talking about. Whodathunk?

Sesame Street of the Foot

Take a trip down memory lane with me, won't you?

8 months ago I walked in the 3 Day / 60 mile breast cancer walk. Best thing I've ever done in my life. And if you recall, during said walk I bruised the ball of my foot. Remember?

Well 8 months now I finally went to Dr. Foot to see what was wrong with said foot because they are numb and still sore. I know. I know. Really? It took me 8 months. I'm a chicken. That's all there is to it.

Dr's scare me. Period. I'm convinced that any Dr. visit will result in immanent death and or amputation. I just don't want the bad news. It never actually crosses my mind that the point of the dr. appt is to avoid future bad news, but that's neither here nor there.

So, finally, I made an appt to Dr. Foot. I got to the office early because I knew paperwork would be involved. It was a very pleasant office too, no elevator music playing which was a plus in my book. Paperwork filled out, co pay handed over, I was showed back to a room. Nice big chair in the room to hop up on and a few button pushings later and I'm 3 feet off the floor with my shoes off and my sparkling toes wiggling free.

The nurse entered to get the down low on why I was there. Before she could even ask, "So what are you in for?" I blurted out, "My feet are really ticklish!" Actually it was so much a blurt as it was a squeal. She just nodded and said they get that a lot. Which really didn't set my mind at ease. But I continued with my sordid tale. She excused herself and I waited...anxiously for Dr. Foot.

All the while I'm working myself up to amputation. Sure they're gonna have to take all 10 piggies and my two feet. The plus is I'd lose like 10 Lbs instantly and I'd never need a pedicure again. The downside is I wouldn't have any feet.

Dr. Foot softly knocked and entered. Now picture if you will a rather tall mad scientist with bow tie. That is Dr. Foot. Very soft spoken, intelligent looking man, but with a bow tie. Made me feel at ease immediately. I blurted again about my ticklish feet and he said it was noted in my chart.

Relaxed a little, he had me go through my job and what I do - making small talk while he was touching my feed. Distracting me really...he was good at it. I didn't flinch one time.

After the examination and whatnot, he handed down his diagnosis...Sesamoiditis. He threw out a bunch of other words too, and when I asked how I was to remember what this was he said to think of it as Sesame Street of the foot.

So what is sesamoiditis? The ball of your foot is made up of two smaller bones underneath a bigger bone. Those two bones aren't connected to anything and their job is much like the knee cap, they help flick your big toe. The inside of the two bones, I've bruised. Apparently I have high arches. He said that actually my arches are so high that it's almost like my foot is folded in half, but it's not obviously. The high arch coupled with the repetitive strain of long distance walking, caused the bone to bruise. And the left foot, he suspects, bruised because I was over compensating for the right.

My prescription is I have to wear these very sexy foot pads just under the ball of my foot. They are about 1/2 inch thick and their job is to alleviate the stress on the ball of my foot by adding to my arch so it's not so high. I get to wear this sexy little number for 3 weeks. And I gotta tell ya, just walking from the Dr. office to my car, my foot already felt better. The pads are going to annoy the hell out of me, but after a couple of days I'm hoping I don't even notice them.

AND on top of all that, the muscle around those bones is inflamed. So I am now on Feldene for 10 days to help with the inflammation.

AND finally, I get to do a contrast bath. Effectively once a day I get to soak my feet in ice cold water for 3 minutes, then hot water for 1 minute and repeat this for 12 minutes. He said very few people can stand the 3 minutes in ice cold water the first time...but it gets easier - he says.

The bottom line, in 3 weeks he expects my feet to feel 100% better and we can then discuss how to deal with the high arches.

"The DMQ "Pretty In Pink" 80's Prom night is the perfect Jenn storm."

The fact that I have a headache this morning "should" be an indication of how great the Prom was last night. Sadly, I think the headache is lack of hydration. Stinks to get old, don't it.

Though the fact that my ears are still ringing, and 80's tunes are still floating around in my head IS a TOTALLY AWESOME indication of the night we had last night. And I reached a whole new Stalker Level last night. Not only did the drummer recognize me at the door, waved and said, "Hey Jenn". But I totally got whacked by a microphone stand during the show and got a "Ooo Sorry" from the lead singer. And I have the bruise to prove the latter - though I can't show anyone because it whacked me on my chest bone. Ouch! Still you can see more photos here.

Right...so anyhow...

We got to Neumo's early as usual and found ourselves a perch in which we can watch the going's on's around us. With it being an 80's prom theme you can only imagine what we witnessed. When we approached the building my heart was already thumping as we listened to Walk Like an Egyptian blaring on the sidewalk. Entering the venue we were welcomed with open arms by pink and black crate paper streamers hanging from the ceiling. Pink and Black balloon bouquets were scattered here and there to give it the "not just your everyday dance" look and feel. In the far corner was a real life photographer with a real life Prom Picture Set up. (Side Note: even though we weren't dressed up Blueberry wouldn't play along and get a prom picture with me. She mumbled something about wanting a "real" prom date. Whatever.) We danced our way upstairs to the tune of Hungry Like the Wolf and planted ourselves on a second floor balcony to "watch" the crowd below. What ensued from there was a constant muttering of "OMG - look at that" to "I totally love this song" to "Wow, now that's some big hair!" ... and so on. You get my drift right. We stood there and gawked and gasped at what people brought out of their closets for this prom night.

Then some poor, slightly inebriated, sap tried to pick up Blueberry. Mr. Volleyball and I were laughing hysterically at this guys opening line - Guys - I do not recommend this. It's lame and we can see right through you. Said Sap saunters up and says, "So I'm trying to determine which was the better 80's movie Back to the Future or Breakfast Club, what do you think?" as he points at Blueberry who promptly says, "What?". I swear the music was so loud we could barely think. So Sap says it again and we all, "Breakfast Club". It should be noted here that Breakfast Club and Back To the Future really can't be compared side by side. One's a guy's flick and one's clearly a chick flick...so the comparison is all wrong. If he had said the better of say Pretty in Pink and The Breakfast Club - us girls would have to seriously think that one over.

But I digress. The Sap stayed with us for just a moment longer and sauntered off once he realized we were way too cool for him. We watched him throughout the night toss that old line out to a bunch of different women. I affectionately started calling him Blueberry's Boyfriend. All night I'd say, "Blue, there's your boyfriend." and I'd point in his direction.

And yes, you see flamingos on the stage. I had to have a quick thought as to why flamingos, then I realized it was a "Pretty in Pink" theme...one more blond moment in the books.

They opened with the quintessential 80's tune, Don't you Forget About Me...I mean really? That song screams 80's. I snapped a shot of the set list so I wouldn't forget all the songs they sang (I'm old like that now...). They followed the Simple Minds with my ALL TIME FAVORITE Journey song: Anyway You Want It. Gawd that song makes me want to roll down my windows and drive fast. They didn't do The Promise and Summer of '69 which is too bad. But the Ugliest Prom Dress judging and the King/Queen spotlight dance took WAY too long. But still, it was a good solid set of Totally Radical 80's songs. And I've said it before and I'll say it again, DMQ sounds way different now and as a long time fan, they sounded Righteous last night!

Kim Virant from Lazy Susan and Chris Ballew from The President's of the United States both were special guests. Kim sang Total Eclipse of the Heart (Do you not just LOVE that video?) and Betty Davis Eyes while Chris acted not only as the Sex Ed and Driver's Ed teacher (at the last prom he was the principle, but budget cuts had him demoted - he said), he sang "I ran" (Flock of Seagulls Hair...OMG...totally 80's) and "Cars" (Did Gary Newman ever do any other songs but this? Or was he one of the 80's famous one-hit wonders?). Chris is quite the character I must say.

All in all, it was an extremely memorable prom. I didn't witness any crying in the girls bathroom so I can't confirm it was a COMPLETELY successful prom (all girls know what I mean there). But the tunes were hot, the venue rocked, and I left there with ringing ears and an 80's tune blaring in my head. As PMDude said yesterday, "The DMQ "Pretty In Pink" 80's Prom night is the perfect Jenn storm."

Off Like a Prom Dress

Oh yes, Prom. 22 years ago *gulp* I went to my prom. If your a follower you've heard the prom stories...Now I realize my prom was not a normal high school prom, but I've seen enough movies about proms and am still a girl so totally understand how important one's prom is. Thankfully, I get to keep reliving prom with the Dudley Manlove Quartet. Can I get a woot woot? I've attended the two they've had and this year will be my third. So I guess I have gotten to go to 4 proms! I'm amazing.

This year's prom is for the year of 1986. That got me thinking about what 80's songs were out in 1986 and if I had any of them 1) on my POC (Pod of Crap) or 2) memories associated to them. It's almost certain that both will apply.

One of my favorite's was Holding Back the Years by Simply Read. It'd be nice to hear DMQ do this song. Who knows though.

Venus - DMQ already does this one. And yes one of the all time greatest songs to me. Guaranteed dancing in one's seat. Could that video GET any more 80's?

Rock me Amadeus - OMG...this song. So we had a drinking game (Hi Mom...move along. Nothing to read here) that you'd have to drink every time they said the world Amadeus. Do you KNOW how many times they say that damn name? Trust me...a drinking game is short lived with that song. (JC - the German language video is for you!)

Take my Breath Away - Top Gun. Groan. Two things about that movie: 1) the first time I saw it it was in Italian, and 2) Oh. My. God.

The volleyball scene. Hot Flash! Even though many of the plays they make in the game are illegal...I'll choose to ignore that in exchange for all the upper manflesh that's showed. ahem...moving on...

West End Girls - What's not to love? I did find some controversy as to whether this was 1985 or 1986. I fell for it in 1986 therefore it counts. So there.

Manic Monday - Who wouldn't want to kiss Valintino by a crystal blue Italian stream? I mean really. I'm just sayin... (that's for you Your Royal Geekness)

I Wanna Be A Cowboy - a song that belongs in the Top 10 Worst songs by far...I can say in all sincerity that it's not on the POC...yet.

Pretty in Pink - Psychedelic Furs - do the 80's get much better? I think not. I loved, loved, LOVED that movie. I had a wee crush on David Spader...and who didn't love Ducky or Andrew McCarthy.

Right so I promise my little 80's music lovers, that I'll bring home videos of tomorrow great 80's Prom. I can't wait. I so need a night out with the boys.

In other not so thrilling news, we are creeping up on a THREE DAY WEEKEND! I can't wait. So need that extra day off...especially since the ever so accurate Seattle weatherman (er ah person) said it was going to be sunny this weekend. Can you believe it? Me neither.

And with that...I'm gonna go Walk Like an Egyptian (you really didn't think I'd forget one of THE biggest hits of 1986 did you?).

Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee, lousy with virginity

Blueberry is a season ticket holder for the 5th Avenue theater here in Seattle. Every season she's kind enough to let me pick from her shows the ones I want to attend with her. This year I chose Shrek (which was quite frankly AWESOME - which was weird to see Shrek as a musical, but whatever) and the other was Grease.

I'm a huge Grease fan in general. It's a "classic" in terms of movies that my generation loves. And like most classics, when someone messes with them they are doomed, usually. And so my thoughts loomed as we made our way to dinner and then to the theater. Very odd group of people go to the theater too I might add. If you ever go, just watch the people around you. There are truly all types. From way dressy to shorts and a t-shirt.

Anyhow, Grease is being advertised with Taylor Hicks as Teen Angel. Taylor Hicks, you may not know, won American Idol a couple years back. There's no doubt he's a good singer, but Franki Valli he ain't. I'm just sayin'.

TH sang ONE song. One. Beauty School Drop Out. That's it. The cast up to that point had been carrying the show, for obvious reasons, but the moment TH came on stage you would have thought Elvis had entered the building. The place erupted in harrahs. I just didn't get it.

He sings, they had a clever line regarding one of the pink ladies voting for him, and he leaves. Done. Grease goes on as planned.

The show itself was good. But as I said, I don't much like it when people mess with classics and so some of the adjustments they made didn't sit well with me. For example, Grease Lightning. Every woman in the world drools and loves John Travolta playing Danny Zuko singling Grease Lightning. And after you saw the movie originally when you were young, and realized what the lyrics said as you grew older, you really appreciated the song for all the cheese that it was. Yah, so not only did they change up some of the - um - rather risque lyrics, but Kenickie sang it. WTF? And I might add, the guy they had as Kenickie wasn't that great of a singer.

In fact, the first Sandy they had (I say "first" because after the intermission they "replaced" Sandy) was horrible. WAY too goody two shoes and not such a great singer. The replacement Sandy, on the other hand, could sing. Whoa!

The BEST female singer by far was the woman who played Jan. Jan was the rather geeky of the Pink Ladies and was the one who sang the commercial tune while they were having the slumber party - which wasn't in the show. The slumber party was, but Rizzo didn't sing "Look at me I'm Sandra Dee" then. Anyway, the Jan singer blew. me. away. She was fantabulous!

So then after the cast took their bows, out pops Taylor Hicks to sing Grease - that led into a medley with the cast. Then, the worst thing, IMHO, happened. The crowd cheered, the performers exited the stage, and they then announced that TH was going to perform a song for us. Oh goody! Talk about a gratuitous performance. Let's see, and entire cast of very talented singers perform very rigorously and get cheers. But then TH steps on stage to try to "steal the show"? I think not. I like him even less now. I mean really. If the only gig you can get is to do one, well one and a half songs during a Broadway performance, THEN sing a solo song...something is seriously wrong with your career.

I felt bad for the entire cast. I felt like their fantastic performance - and it was fantastic, just different - was over shadowed by Hick boy! Ugh. So to the performers of Grease, I liked you WAY more than Hick boy! Well done!

Sticks and Stones

I've been called a lot of things in my life. Some good, some not so good. But there is one word that keeps popping up in rare, but way too familiar situations...the word snob.

I started wondering about the word and wondering if I was a snob. I mean I am particular about a few things, but does that make me a snob? Or just particular?

What started this disastrous thought process was my morning cuppa Joe. I was standing in line behind a woman who was dressed to the nines. She stood out because she was clearly not a Hotel CaliforniaSoft tech type which is what generally frequents my coffee watering hole. Anyhow she blurted out her order, which she had to repeat twice because of the enormity and complexity of it. Having been a barista for a couple of years, I knew the fear these types of drink orders produced. But that wasn't my first thought, my first thought was, "Man what a coffee snob." Then amused at myself I realized people had, recently, called me that as well. Funny that I put this woman with the complicated drink in that category, but not myself.

But am I a coffee snob? I think there's a distinct chance that I am.

I digress. I looked up "snob" in the dictionary. It's a noun, not too surprising. But the first definition is, "one who blatantly imitates, fawningly admires, or vulgarly seeks association with those regarded as social superiors". Eh, what's that? Well, I knew that wasn't me. So I read on.

Definition #2 (it was actually definition #3 as Definition #1 was Cobbler, which made no sense so I discounted it - ahem) "one who tends to rebuff, avoid, or ignore those regarded as inferior or one who has an offensive air of superiority in matters of knowledge or taste". That sounds more like it.

So I got to wondering, is being a snob about such things as coffee or food (the other instance in which "snob" was thrown at me...as in "I'm a food snob.")? Isn't appreciating better quality stuff really about just that "appreciating" quality? By desiring higher standards in things like my coffee make me a snob? Maybe.

While I contemplated the fact that the woman in front of me wasn't likely to get the coffee she wanted the way she wanted it because it was so complex, (incidentally the order was for: one quarter-decaf, quad grande, three pumps of almond, extra-chocolate drizzle, nonfat, dense foam, 185 degree, latte - I know, right?) I stood very confident that my simple Venti Vanilla Americano with Xtra room drink would be perfect. And yet, day 2 with a new barista and day 2 my coffee wasn't right. I found it amusing I was miffed that I had to deal with a substandard coffee drink. And that realization meant I could most definitely be put into the coffee snob category.

I'll stand firm though, and defend myself until my caffiene-drenched blood runs no more, that there is such a thing as BAD coffee. There are very few things I hold sacred...but my coffee is one of them. And for all those people out there who think they can't tell the difference between good coffee and bad coffee, I'm going to choose to ignore you and your inferiority! teehee...

So yah, I most likely am a coffee snob. And I'm most likely a food snob - to some extent. But the best part about knowing that is knowing that I'm okay with that. I could be called worse things, and probably am - behind my back. But that's okay. I'd likely just ignore the ones who insult me, considering they're inferior beings and all.

My lost cause...

I met a friend for lunch a week or so ago. We'll call her K. K told me of her recent dilemma about her closet and her clothing issue and how she needed to organize her closet. She had finally gotten so fed up that she was going to hire a professional organizer to the tune of hundreds of dollars to come in to "organize" her closet.

Stunned that someone could make that kind of $$ doing something I absolutely LOVED, I offered K my organizational skills to help her clean out her closet. All I asked for in return was dinner and maybe some wine. She was thrilled. She thought I was crazy to see this sort of thing as "fun", but whatever.

On my drive back from lunch I was surprised at how excited I was to be helping her clean out her closet. I've done this several times with Blueberry too and knew I had to come up with a plan and get a commitment from K regarding how to proceed. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, I missed another calling in life.

I think because of all the moving I've done in my life, I'm an expert at purging. I'm not a keeper, a pack rat, a whatever you want to call a person who keeps stuff around. Don't get me wrong, I have kept sentimental items, and such, but overall, I'm not a pack rat.

I read somewhere, or heard or something, a long time ago about how people attached memories to things and so can't get rid of the thing. Our emotional side kicks in and we have to hold on to the old ratty sock with holes in because it was the sock your kid was wearing the day his first tooth came in. Know what I mean? This "expert" had said that people don't realize that even if you get rid of the item, you still have the memory. And suddenly it made sense. It is, however, a lot easier said then done...but still.

So in preparation to help K with her closet I started thinking about what I knew to be true to help organize the closet. The rules if you will. I had posted on FB that I was excited to help her and couldn't believe the number of people/friends who emailed me or left a comment asking me to help them when I was done.

So, for all of you who are ready, here are the rules of engagement:

1. Be ruthless. You have to willing to part with items in a logical, non emotional way, and you have to be ready to let go. You have to be willing to ask the hard questions and answer them honestly when it comes to 1) how long has it been since you've used/seen/worn an item, and 2) how realistically likely would it be that you'll need it in the next year?

2. Allow yourself three piles and stick to it. The two piles should be 1) Keep or 2) Goodwill or donation. There is some debate to have a third pile of items that might be worth selling or sending to consignment. If you're that type, then by all means - but that pile has to go too. There may be a need for a 3rd pile of "unsure". In that pile should be items you need to try on to make the determination.

3. Decide quickly. Don't hum and ha. Your initial gut decision should be the one you go with. Then no going back.

4. Once you've gone through the piles. Bag up the donation pile and put it in your car ASAP. Do not allow it to linger in the house. If you let it linger, you may how dumpers remorse and want to dig something out of there. In K's case, I took the bags (12 of them) with me so she couldn't go through them again.

5. Now, go through the pile to keep. Double check for stains, tears, anything that makes you think you should get rid of it.

Once you have your "keep stuff" now starts the harder part, what to do with it. In the case of the clothing, there are several "theories" on how best to organize a closet. Some people prefer Winter / Summer type of organization. I feel strongly that you should keep all your clothes together and separate by color. You'll be amazed to see how many new outfits you might come up with because now you can see all the brown shirts you have. The other benefit of sorting by colors is you now have a look at the spectrum of your clothes. Next time you're out shopping for a new shirt, you now may know that you have no purple shirts, or not as many as you want. If you're like most of us, you automatically drift toward a single color (mine is black because it's slimming). But now you're aware that you have 15 pairs of black slacks and you don't need any more. (I'm a minimalist and don't have 15 pairs of slacks in all my colors combined - I have 7 that's it.)

Now, that you've got room in your closet you can sit back and focus on more important things. I won't lie to you though, keeping it this way is a commitment. And it may require you to regroup in a couple of months again. I tend to go through my closets every 4 months give or take. My rule of thumb is if I've not worn it in a year, it goes. Chances are high I've purchased something I like more and wear more often, so get rid of the excess. I happen to have a huge closet with loads of room, and by loads of room, I mean LOADS of room. I'd say maybe, 1/3 is used right now with clothing - including all the fancy stuff you only wear once in a while.

So after helping K, on my way home I started thinking about a career in this sort of thing. Clearly there were people out there who did it already. But the key, to me is, not cramming something down someones throat, but rather figuring out what "process" works best for them. The way I organize my closet and or life works for me, but may not work for K or Blueberry or anyone else. So really being a professional organizer isn't about just organizing, it's about the psychology behind why people don't organize to begin with. Organization is NOT something you're born with like good hair or straight teeth, it can be learned.

And to K - good job. You were such a trooper as we went through every single piece of clothing you have. I so wish we would have taken a before and after shot...you know, for my portfolio should I decide a career change is in order.

Most Embarrassing Moment of the Week!

Typically on weekends I make coffee at home. 5 days a week I stop at Bucky's (Starbucks that is) and I figure on the weekend, there's no reason since I do, after all, have a coffee maker. I know, I hear ya. Why am I not making coffee during the week? Because.

So Saturday morning, I realized I didn't have cream for my coffee. Off I went to Bucky's and figured I might as well do my grocery shopping too. I realize Bucky's and the grocery store is less than .1 of a mile from my place, but I had a lot of heavy stuff I was buying and I knew it wouldn't do my back good to carry it all home (cat littler, ice, cat food, etc). So I drove.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed almost immediately the fire truck. I've been in QFC before while the boys of the fire world were shopping. No, I don't stalk them. It just happens that they seem to almost always be there when I am. Weird, right? Maybe they're stalking me.

Anyhow, the Manager of the Bucky's by me knows me because she used to work at the Bucky's I frequent every morning. I walked in and scanned Bucky's and thought it was relatively quite for a Saturday morning (or course it was only 7:30 AM, but still). I chit chatted with the Manager as she took my order. I asked her, "So where are the hot firemen?" Her face went almost white and she grinned and said, "Right behind you."

I slowly turned my head to see 5 grinning guys...they all noddin and said, "mornin'." I smiled, waved embarrassingly and slithered back to my car and died.

In other non-Jenn-embarrassing-the-hell-out-of-herself news...we're having one helluva storm tonight. High winds sustained at 30-40 MPH with gusts to 55 mph and rain, lots and lots of rain. Weird weather for Seattle in the spring. But whatever. If my power goes out, I'll just call the firemen. They'll come running since we're BFFs now.

Alcanzar Una Estrella

Back in 1990 I was given another opportunity of a lifetime. (The first going to a boarding school in Switzerland – thanks mom and dad). I got to participate in an exchange program with La Universidad de Guadalajara. I wasn’t sure the ParentalUnits would approve or be able to afford it, but as it turned out they not only approved, but a semester in Mexico was WAY cheaper than a semester at WSU. So I applied and was accepted. I got notified of the family I would be living with and in August of 1990 I was on an American flight bound for Guadalajara.

I can remember packing that summer and feeling a bit odd about leaving my friends behind – again – and jetting off to a new adventure. Knowing I wouldn’t forget it… Ever. I almost backed out. Friends being all important to you in your late teens. But I had the ticket and my passport and I knew I’d be coming back. I knew from after the TASIS experience that my life would not be the same and those relationships with my friends would be strained and then different when I returned. Yet I knew the true friends would support me and be sending me reese peanut butter cups in the mail (Thanks blueberry).

Landing in Guadalajara I was petrified. I had 7 years of Spanish at that point and upon stepping out of the jet way forgot how to even say hello. The family I was to stay with the – oh god, what was their last name…? Um…huh? Gone…Their last name...- anyhow, the mom and dad met me at the airport. The immediately reminded me of my grandparents on my parents side. She was tall and authoritative; he was shorter and immediately seemed very loveable. I knew instantly though who ruled the roost. Ariana and Salvador where their names.

As we drove through Guadalajara – they pointed out sights and gave me the lowdown on the school. I had a couple of days before I had to register, and they were certain I’d be settled in by then. And they were right.

The next day, Ariana took me to the school to get registered. It was about a mile away and we walked. All along the way she gave me pointers on how to be safe. After registering, she took me to the cathedral downtown and gave me the historic walk through. I was in awe. Guadalajara wasn’t anything like the border/tourist towns of Mexico I had expected. It had, culture. People everywhere. People crammed into local busses, hanging out the doors as the bus waddled along belching noxious black smoke out their tail pipes. (I’d later discover that blowing ones nose when one was in such are area produced black snot – I’m just sayin’.) Still I couldn’t get enough.

The family was fantastic. I quickly learned that the mother doted on everyone. I did almost nothing for 4 months. I barely had to pour milk on my cereal – she took care of it. She could cook like there was no tomorrow too and I begged her to let me help her and learn. In fact, I still have her recipes. They’re all in Spanish and I don’t dare try to translate them now.

I had a roommate there too. Another exchange student from WSU. She was blond and skinny and all the Mexican boys were attracted to her. But she was nice and fun and we got along great. She had some complications towards the end of our stay that tested my ability to not only speak Spanish, but to keep myself together in a crisis in a foreign country. Good times.

Right, so after staying in Mexico for so long, I learned to think in Spanish. I can’t really explain it, but my mind just worked in Spanish and I had to struggle to think in English when I’d speak to my parents. Then when I came home, I had to almost retrain myself to think in English. It was very bizarre, but man was I fluent. I watch Spanish TV almost nonstop (Univision). I was still addicted to the Spanish Novelas and had to keep hitting them to keep fluent. (By the way, Salvador used to joke about the soaps being called “novelas”. If you separate the word you get No ve Las…which basically means, “don’t watch them.” – funny huh? ) One such novela stuck with me, Alcanzar Una Estrella. The lead was a hot Mexican boy and I was so infatuated – Eduardo Capetillo. The song has been stuck in my head all morning. And wouldn’t you know it…YouTube had it.