superlawyergirl's Xanga

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Thu, 28 Aug 2008 17:01:33 GMT

Last night the friends gathered at our back patio table and talked. It's time to look down the road and prepare for the hard times ahead.

A couple of hours earlier, we took our girl out for some food, laughs, and trivia, just trying to get her to smile a little before going back alone to her empty house to deal with the loss of the love of her life- and the growing new life inside of her.

So now, we summon the memories of every applicable book we ever read, movie we ever saw, or conversation we ever had, and try to figure out what to do. The affects of alcohol and mounting feelings of helplessness are a lethal combination and create sparks of arguments among us. None us have ever been pregnant- what help will our girl need down the road that a husband or significant other is usually there for? Should we force her to take the weekly growth pictures that she used to want to take before her husband flipped the switch in his head and became a person none of us knew? Maybe she'll wish she'd taken them after it's too late. Should we create a schedule for people to stay the night with her, rubbing her back or feet- helping her with housework, or just keeping her company? Should we all take turns taking her to La Maz (sp?) classes to help her prepare for the coming baby? It's all part of the larger question that asks if we should force what we think she should do upon her or let her decide and come to us with what she wants to do. We're all reading the pregnancy books so we can be the biggest aids possible, but nothing will turn us into the one person she yearns for.

And what about the couple at the table who are dealing with the loss of our girl's husband as well? This younger couple just got married a couple of months ago and only finally decided to do so because of the example of the older couple they so idolized. Now the wife expects her husband to burn all loyalties to his best friend, the husband of our girl, but she doesn't realize that he's hurting too-- he lost his best friend in one day, without explanation.

What about my best friend, who's been living an independent life, but now has to fight his natural feelings to help take care of his pregnant best friend who calls crying every night and clings to him every hour their together, which is a lot now that he has to entertain her all weekend and several nights a week? There's still seven months to go, and then there's going to be a baby. It looks like he's going to be a father after all.

Sitting around the table, we are a group of individuals who never thought we'd be discussing or pondering what we are wholeheartedly racking our brains and breaking our hearts over. For us, babies are a non-existent or way-in-the-future goal. But, because of our love for our girl and the actions of her husband, it's upon us- and we can do nothing right.

So... any advice?

To all the authors, would-be authors, and other creative beings..

Fri, 15 Aug 2008 20:39:19 GMT

While one does not have to be original to be creative, a person in the arts should always attempt to begin on his or her own feet. Business is where you return to the tried and true, but in the arts, you should never offer a copy, just an creative twist on an old classic.

I love to read, usually going through two to four books a week, mainly in my two days off. It helps to get a new perspective, be inspired, gain new information, or simply get away, but I'm usually disappointed by the majority of the books I pick out. Most authors try too hard. They pick up sayings or methods from the famous authors and force themselves into the experience they believe it should be like. Having never written a book, I'm no expert, but I do know that, in college, I usually had to be internally inspired to write anything of worth, otherwise it was simply a paper of facts, ramblings, and a couple of cute sayings thrown in--- and the professor always knew the difference. Despite the widespread lack of quality, it's the truth that almost anyone can become a published author these days, I've met several of them and heard them tell almost identical stories of publishing houses that barely look at the stories they've written before extending a simple contract the author's way.

After the Harry Potter phenomenon, I've been hungry for a book that wrapped me up so far in it's web that I didn't want to come down. Even still, there's nothing I've enjoyed holding so much as a brand-new, unread Harry Potter novel. Obviously, the series is over with, and us Muggles are left looking for another fix.

So, when I heard about a new fantasy series that was gathering Potter-like attention, I became interested. Because I didn't want to give in to the mob-like mentality, I decided to read a book by the same author that wasn't in the series. I read Stephenie Meyers "The Host", and liked it well enough. It was certainly worth giving the Twilight series a chance. While I didn't find "Twilight" addicting, it was certainly very good. I love anything like "Pride and Prejudice", so I had a good time.

It wasn't until the second and third stories of the series that I started to have doubts. I finally recognized the growing feeling in the back of my mind to be a sense of deja vu'--- the stories were incredibly familiar. It wasn't just the intentional likeness of the storyline to the classics mentioned in the beginning of each book: "Pride and Prejudice", "Romeo and Juliet", and "Wuthering Heights", but I knew I had seen a heroine like Bella and a story like hers somewhere else.

It was in Stephanie Meyers' other book, "The Host". Bella was Wanda, a body-snatching worm whose race had taken over Earth and several other planets in the universe. While Wanda is the fantasy creature among the humans and Bella is the human among the fantasy creatures, she's still someone who goes against her own race and falls in love with people she shouldn't, is incredibly self-less, very heroic, has two guys who shouldn't love her- fighting over her, and has their families and friends (also people who shouldn't love her) care for and accept her into their family. In the end, the story goes hurdling towards the tragic end, whose details are only known by the heroine and kept from everyone she loves. However, when all seems to be lost, we are blindsided by a solution we didn't know existed and everything miraculously works out for almost every character in the story. There are also other couples created from the most unlikely characters, further bridging the gap between two the contradicting species.

I probably shouldn't be so picky- after all, the Twilight series is for kids, a hard truth I learned when I went to a prom inspired release party for the last book in the series and ended up watching a ton of Hanna Montana look-alikes screaming and jumping around the streamer and balloon laced dance floor for two and a half hours. Except, if you read that last book, and maybe the one before it, some of the topics aren't exactly suitable for the young children who are most certainly reading them (as Bella awakes with bruises all over from her wedding night, and later has to seduce her husband with skimpy pj's because he's so afraid of hurting her again)- while it's no trashy romance novel, it certainly goes into the subject quite often and much more than a child should read.

It's really the concept of creativity that I'm so disappointed with. It's like Stephanie Meyers comes up with stories like one would play a game of Mad Libs, with a pre-written base line and character personalities, and just inserts different adjectives, names, species, and random twists and later fills in the gaps with dialogue and description. And, because of all the marketing hype, it has all these people forcing themselves into the spirit because they so badly want to feel like they felt when reading about Harry Potter.

Thursday, August 07, 2008

Thu, 07 Aug 2008 21:12:48 GMT

"For him who knows to do good and doeth it not, to him it is sin." (a verse in James)

As one of the first verses of Scripture I memorized, this verse confused me as a child. Why would someone do the opposite of what they knew was correct? Back then, my excuses for wrongdoing continually fell under the jurisdiction of ignorance, to the point where, fresh from a spanking, I once asked my parents for a list of everything I wasn't allowed to do. I figured I'd memorize it and never get in trouble again. The idea that someone would choose to get in trouble was crazy to someone like me.

Now I'm the general manager of a restaurant, where my duties include everything from supervising and training new servers and cooks to ordering the produce and ingredients for our next week's business to switching on tv's and lights when forgotten, dealing with outside issues like finding parking for my employees, and making certain all the numbers work together well.

I don't have an assistant manager or anyone to really help with my responsibilities, other than a glorified cook with the title of kitchen manager, and sometimes it just gets to be too much. Last year I worked 90+ hour weeks well over a 1/3 of the year, and this month I've already run through an entire FOH staff twice. It's the nature of the business, so they say.

But it's not a difficult job. It's not something I have to struggle to figure out or put everything together. My store is simple enough that while it has the many problems of an older building forced against its will into a restaurant and fixed with duct tape and frankenstein-thinking for years, they are simple problems to fix. It's all routine for me now, so as long as I stay on track, even the no call, no show employee isn't going to mess me up.

However... I get tired of the routine. I get off track, I put things off, when I have plenty of time to get them done right then. Because of the way the company is set up, I have little to no supervision (despite having an actual supervisor), and I can usually get away with this for a long time. While I don't make a habit of ignoring certain responsibilities, the fact that I neglect them at all is not a good practice.

The funny thing is, I hate getting in trouble- so why risk it in the first place? I'm still the little girl who rarely pushed the envelope and cried at the thought of getting a spanking, not because it would hurt, but because my parents would be mad at me.

Today I got in trouble for the first time in a long while, and it was something I forgot to do rather than decided not to do. How ironic. My supervisor actually wanted an excuse, but I didn't have one. Sure, I've had plenty of missing employees this week and had to hire and train new ones on the fly just to keep the doors open, I've been combing the city for available parking for my staff so we won't get towed by our landlord, and been dealing with the routine A/C-ventilation problems so we don't lose all of our guests, but I really didn't have an excuse. I know my job. I know what I'm supposed to do, just like I know to brush my teeth in the morning and night. It's become a part of me, and I usually feel off if I don't do certain parts of it.

I guess we'd all be millionaires and Olympians and saints if we could break our will to follow the things we ought to do rather than the things we want to do.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 14:15:34 GMT

When we are young, Christmas is full of magic, wonder, and the understanding that there was something more to that certain time of year. We dream about it, yearn for it, and wait with bated breath for the morning of December 25th and the joy that comes with it.

Later we discover that Christmas isn't run by Santa Claus and his elves, but our parents, who lovingly decorate the house, make the cookies, and buy the presents. It's not the same as before, but it's still a very enjoyable time. We may dread dealing with a lot of things, but the magic of Christmas, diluted though it may be, is still a beacon of hope and comfort for the end of the year.

After we've grown, the holidays are no longer what they used to be, in fact, they can be the opposite, as we've taken a reversed role in the process: we are no longer the recipient of the created magic, but the orchestrator. Christmas has become our burden to carry: we fight for parking in the overcrowded malls, wait in hour-long lines, obsess over dinner menus, and stress our way through Christmas visits, Christmas night, and the previously enchanting Christmas morning. In the end, we can't wait for it to be over.

I'm being negative, but it's so hard to be positive when all the fairytales turn out to be exactly that- tales about enchanted characters- not humans. I spent last weekend at a house on the lake with some good friends going out on the boat, and just enjoying everyone's company.

This weekend getaway was in honor of the husband of my roommate's oldest friend, a truly fun guy who is easy-going, quick with a joke, and sings his heart out as the singer of a video game "rock band". His wife is hilarious and caring, very protective of her close friends and family (which has been the only problem in our friendship- as she's possessive of my roommate/best friend), and also a ton of fun to be around. And, we found out, after 2+ years of marriage, they are going to have a baby!

Out in the lake, we swam around the boat discussing baby names and baby showers, all of us guests bubbling over with ideas and excited congratulations. In more private conversations, we raved about how this baby would have the perfect life with the perfect parents- two incredibly cool, loving, and supportive people, who love to be with among their friends and family. I came away from the weekend in awe of the two of them and how great they were over the weekend.

Yesterday, I came downstairs to discover the wife sitting on our couch, crying her heart out to my roommate. After hiding in my room for forever, I left so they could have more privacy.

I returned almost two hours later to find the rest of the close friends at the house, all sitting around her as she hugged a pillow and tried to laugh. Everyone hung around most of the night, consoling her, forcing jokes and laughter, and trying not to look so sorry, shocked, or angry for her.

The perfect couple hadn't been perfect for over a month now, around the time of the baby discovery, when the husband told her that he hadn't loved her in over a year and that she should lose the baby. There were other unexplained outings and weird actions, but still, the past month, the past weekend even, had progressed without a word or hint to anyone. Looking back, we all noticed little things, little pieces of evidence which when piled together wouldn't have meant much anyway: the guests were more excited about planning for the baby than the seemingly laid-back parents, the husband wanted someone else to tell a friend about the baby rather than do it himself, seemed confused for a bit when I congratulated him about, and later mentioned that he started "smoking" again in preparation for the baby. All things that could fit with people not used to being pregnant, trying to enjoy their last social experiences without children, or just plain joking around.

After dealing with my roommate not getting to be with the person he seemed destined for and "perfect" marriages being incredibly loveless, I can't help but wonder- what's the point? Whatever happened to the idea that we are one half of a whole, flittering about restlessly until we find our other half, and the contentment that comes with it? I'm not talking about flowers, cards, and candy- the commercialism-spun romance is like a rotten sweet tooth and I prefer to save myself from the dragons, but I'm talking about actual love that lasts a lifetime- through trials, grief, too many kids, the extra weight that comes with them, and new secretaries at the office.. Is it too much to ask?

If I find someone now, I'm only going to wonder when the exciting ride will come to an abrupt end, the bright lights of the carnival turn off, exposing the harsh reality of the actual parts of the wonderland, and I'm stuck wandering alone through the empty, trash-covered fairgrounds, trying not to be abducting by the carnies and wondering how I'm going to get home.

So much for Prince Charming..

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Sat, 12 Jul 2008 15:58:10 GMT

Damn.....

Last July, I became the GM of another Waterloo Ice House restaurant for two months before returning to my old, and current, store. During those two months my supervisor ran my store, hiring a ton of new people- with some of them lasting such a short time I never met them. Others, like Sarah, I met during the occasions when my supervisor needed me to "baby-sit" or run shifts for him on the weekends. The girls were nice, although most of them were clearly fans of my supervisor and no one else. Sarah was different from them.

There were two things I noticed first about Sarah every time I saw her. Her eyes were clear and confident, and her chin was always up. She always seemed to have a big smile and a kind word for everyone. But she never fit in with the group that took over my store for two months. In fact, she freaked them out.

The problem with Sarah was her faith. She would look you straight in the eye and tell you she saw angels or knew she was going to be married soon, although she didn't know any guys at the moment. She also felt people's auras and knew immediately if you were a good person and were going to be married soon as well. Unless you grew up in the church and understood this to be largely harmless, it was downright odd. Personally, I always found her resolute faith to be sort of impressive.

The group couldn't take her being around, but because there was no real problem with her work ethic or ability to get along with the others, my supervisor had no actual reason to sit her down and fire her.

That's where I came in. During this time, I'd had so many issues with staff coming and going from my temporary location, that I probably broke records for highest turnover and highest number of firings in a week or month. While it's not fun to tell someone they weren't wanted and needed to leave, it became almost natural for me to formulate an excuse and a speech to go along with it. I was perfect for the part.

So I was chosen by my supervisor to call Sarah, who wasn't my employee, and fire her. My excuse was simple-- "there are too many people, I'm about to return to the store and am bringing a ton of servers back with me and you are the newest employee." I was full of compliments, wishes for future well-being, and promises that it was a problem with us, "not you".

It was bogus and I think she knew it, but nevertheless, she gave us all "blessings" and gave a specific kind word for everyone she worked with at the restaurant, including me, although I'd only worked with her for a couple of hours on a couple of occasions and was now firing her over the phone. And then it was over. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned my mind to think on other projects.

Last week Sarah walked back into my store, head up and eyes clear: I recognized her immediately. After genuinely inquiring how I was doing, she asked if I happened to be hiring at the time. I wasn't, which was the truth. I'd just hired so many people I was actually worried about finding shifts for all of them without wrecking my labor. After "understanding my predictament" and putting on a smile, she talked with me for a bit longer and she told me: she was homeless.

And then she talked about how this is teaching her to clear her heart to focus on loving people and how she has faith that everything's going to turn out well.... And then she returned to telling me that she thought I was going to be married soon and that I had a good aura.

I can't hire her- as horrible as it sounds. For one, I have too many people, and two, she liked to talk too much to my guests. But I can't help but regain some of that horrible feeling I had in the pit of my stomach during all of the firings I had to take on last year. Sometimes this job is just a little too real.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Thu, 29 May 2008 00:48:42 GMT

I just sent a huge email to the VP of the corporation listing the reasons why we need to go green as a company. It's a full blown argument minimized into talking points and links to internet resources, but it still goes on for at least two pages (which is massive considering the 2 sentence company email average).

I've been researching the need, cost, and incentives for us to "go green" for quite a while now. I've read books, magazines, gone very partially organic, planted a container garden, and spent full days on the internet over this... and it's helped keep my mind off of my life.

My best friend/roommate/supervisor is all but completely out of my life, even though we went on vacation together less than two months ago. We still live together, but he no longer returns emails, phone calls, or feels the need to talk to me for any reason. Nothing happened, other than the definate end of his relationship to my other incredibly close friend, who has also completely cut me off because he felt I was my voice was "patronizing" when I assured him that I was still his friend and wanted the best for him. I sure know how to pick 'em. My best guess is that my best friend is depressed, but is trying to fight it by shoving every negative emotion into the small compartment of his life that is represented by me, and ignoring it until the hurt goes away... or I go away.

I know this may be the healthiest way for him to deal with it, but I hate being the one who has to bear the burden of the consequences.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Mon, 12 May 2008 14:16:09 GMT

After finally casting my ballot for a specific Democrat candidate in the presidential election, I feel I've been following most of the arguements, controversies, and all around 'hoopla' pretty well for the past several months.

Although I'm adverse to anyone who will mimick President Bush's approach to democracy and to interpreting the Constitution, I am starting to believe Democrats do not deserve the opportunity to pick one of their own to be the new president. You'd think after eight years of being outraged, we'd have our act together...

We have selective memories, which allow us to replay every word fumbled from the mouth of the current president, but we mentally block the moments when one of our strongest candidates for the Democratic party tells blatant lies and changes personality masks as often as female celebrities change outfits.

I understand that the race is close, but it's not close enough for her to actually win, without getting the superdelegates to go against the will of the people, which will disillusion voters in November, thus leading the way for Republicans once again. The longer she holds on to the campaign trail, the more I feel we should be bracing ourselves for the moment at the DNC when Obama's name is announced as the nominee and Hillary goes up to accept the award. Zoolander anyone?

As we all stand around scratching our heads about why Hillary can't accept the fact that now is not her time, I think we're overlooking a couple of monumental facts: Hillary is no stranger to not getting her way and usually has a plan for rising up from the ashes. I think she's going to do what she can to botch November for the Democrats and come back in four years to remind us that she tried to warn us that Obama couldn't beat McCain, forgive us for doubting her, and swoop in to save us from another four years of Republican rule.

I think she's a brilliant woman and has cleared quite a path for future women everywhere, but she's crossed too many moral lines to be allowed into the Promised Land.

Friday, May 02, 2008

Fri, 02 May 2008 17:10:12 GMT

I just finished reading the book "Three Cups of Tea", by Greg Mortenson, and it may have changed my life. If nothing else, it's changed my mind, which is good enough for me.

The story details the events of how a failed climb of the mountain K2 ended up leading Greg Mortenson to his destiny: to promote peace in the countries of Pakistan and Afghanistan through building schools, women's vocational centers, clean water projects, and hostels for students on scholarship.

Greg was a fairly normal guy, if you discount the fact that he lived in his car to save money from his nursing job to support his climbing addiction, but as the son of two missionaries in Tanzania, he was raised to spot a need and to fill it himself. When he wandered into the Pakistani village of Korphe, after getting lost from his porter for the second time, the villagers took him in and showed him around. When he asked to see their school, they solemnly took him to a frostcovered mountain ledge where little boys and 4 girls drew their multiplication tables in the mud with sticks. They were avidly studying despite the fact that they didn't have a teacher. Shocked, Greg promised them that he would one day return to the village and build them a school. One year later, after scrimping and saving and finding a donor, he was able to do just that-- and it changed his life forever.

The experiences detailed in the book are amazing and mind-blowing, and the people he meets during his travels and work are both heart-warming and scary. He was in Pakistan during 9/11, had tea with the Taliban, and ended up building schools in Afghanistan with a general who is known for loving his people, but tearing apart his enemies with the help of two jeeps.

When I finally got to the parts of the book that mirrored time I could recognize and events I knew about, I became upset. It's one thing to hear the promises of our government, see our rationality, and another thing to see the US and our actions from the other side.

I doubt I could ever be mistaken for a supporter of Bush, but I did happen to agree with the Afghanistan war. After all, we knew Osama bin Laden was in that country and there was a massive amount of Taliban fighters there. Even the people of Afghanistan wanted us there. However, I also thought we took care of them, but for the second time (the first time occurring after the war when we helped the Afghanis expel the Soviets), we completely forgot all of our promises. We promised them an amazing amount of money to help them get back on their feet, but only a quarter of that promise actually made it over there. The excuse? "They don't have a central banking program. We can't wire the money over there," said one of the members of Congress responsible for sending the money to them. Nevermind the fact that we flew bags of money into Afghanistan to bribe warlords into helping us during the fight. We also took around $634 million of the little bit of money that got sent to the country and moved it over to Iraq in preparation for the war over there.

Not to mention the actual war in Iraq.... can anyone PLEASE tell me why we're over there? Because I'd really like to know. I was a huge supporter of Bush back at the beginning of the Iraqi war, but even then, our sudden switch to Iraq didn't really seem right. I never saw the correlation between Iraq and Osama bin Laden. I heard about WMD's, but we never found any. I know he was a dictator and needed to be held accountable for his actions, but so do a lot of other world dictators, some worse than Saddam, as well as countries where combatants are causing mass genocide even as we speak. But we decided to bomb Iraq, where it wasn't abnormal at all for someone to live a long and fruitful life, and we killed women and children, thus uniting 200 million Muslims against the US, when we would have had a large majority of supporters. I started to turn against Bush when I read the book "Bush at War", by Bob Woodward, in search of what happened to turn our attention to them, and found the part in the aftermath of 9/11 when Bush repeatedly asks his staff if there could be a connection between Saddam and 9/11. Even though no one has anything to offer up in answer to his question, Bush continues to ask about the connection and even tells them to find one. Despite the fact that we knew Osama was in Afghanistan, along with a large majority of the people responsible for the attacks, before the war in Afghanistan, Rumsfeld complained about the bad targets in that country and suggested striking Iraq instead. It turns out that most of our intelligence came from a man that the CIA had long since stopped believing because of his strong ties to Iran, the country profiting the most from the Iraqi War.

And on top of all of this, we've avenged the deaths of over 3,000 people from 9/11 with the deaths of over 4,000 soldiers in the war in Iraq alone. Despite the fact that 70% of Americans believe things aren't going well, and strong calls from the public to pull out of Iraq, VP Cheney sits there and answers the reporter who repeats this information to him and says, "So?", shrugs his shoulders, and snickers a little. Really?

Rumsfeld and friends have taken the liberty to declare the Geneva Convention null and void when dealing with Guantanamo prisoners and we're TORTURING them. Except, it's not torture because they haven't died or dealt with permanent mental or physical damage. Who cares about the fact that we "respect the Rule of Law", not the "Rule of Force"? Oh wait, a Democrat president said that, so obviously it doesn't matter.

Our president has allowed for wiretapping, created a Patriot Act, and manipulated the Constitution into whatever works for him and his personal values. He has made a mockery of us around the world, and we've helped, by either buying into his call to the required warped sense of patriotism or by sitting around complaining with little to no action. Benjamin Franklin once said (and this is incredibly paraphrased, as I don't remember it word for word), that those who give up their freedom out of a desire for security, deserve neither freedom nor security. So the people who continue to cite the need to protect ourselves against potential future attacks by allowing the government to take away even more of our freedoms will wake up to realize that they've made a serious mistake. And that time is now.

For all of us who are outraged and shocked about where the previous 8 years have taken us, let us not simply complain and be full of talk. The way we're infighting even now falls in line with what happens almost every time we get a chance to change something and fail. We need to stop worrying about lapel pins or crazy pastors and ridiculous claims of radical Muslim ties and do what we can to keep the next 4-8 years from being a repeat of the ones we just limped out of.

triathlon..

Thu, 17 Apr 2008 14:12:40 GMT

Last night I was in the bookstore searching for a book assigned by my VP for our weekly meetings when another book caught my eye. This book claimed that if I dedicated four hours a week to doing what the author told me to do, I'd be able to compete in a triathlon in just six weeks. Right.

With my incredible history of failure in the area of running or races screaming in the back of my mind, I thumbed through the book. Four hours a week isn't too much time, and I had just been cringing at my reflection as I walked into the bookstore only minutes before.

I had been abruptly shaken by the adventure tour in Puerto Vallarta as I'd always felt capable of doing anything I put my mind to and despite the horror of clothes shopping, lived in the basic denial of the facts-- I seriously needed to become more active. But even with the idea that I don't get around to exercising on a regular basis, I felt I got some activity from my job, where I lift heavy trays and run about the restaurant for hours on end. The truth remains: after getting through the Adventure Vallarta mountain course with flying colors, I hurried to the computers loaded with the photos of the days adventure only to discover that all but two of my pictures were shareable. Granted, I was wearing a bright turquoise shirt and bright orange boardshorts and was strapped in a harness, but the photos were awful.

Thus the reason I continued to search the book about triathlons despite the better judgement of my well-trained nay-sayer voice in the back of my head. The mere fact that I've devoured three books about traveling in the past week and a half and have started to consider trips to places I never thought I'd be interested in has shown me that I need a change and some excitement. Getting up and going to work every morning and then going home and sleeping is not how I want to live out the rest of my days. It seems like something as outrageous as a triathlon could be the very thing to shake things up for the better. If nothing else, I could lose some weight- and that is always good.

Despite my initial hesitancy, I bought the book and read 3/4 of it last night. I used to be a lifeguard and love swimming and actually still have my racing bike from when my family would do 50+mile bike rides in August heat. With a little training, I may feel confident enough to enter the Danskin Women's Triathlon in June and should be able to at least finish the race.

We'll see. :)

Puerto Vallarta

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 14:50:43 GMT

The gods smiled upon me and I made it through my short little trip to Puerto Vallarta with all my body parts in tact and no bout of food or water poisoning to speak of. In fact, besides the fact that my legs, feet, and ankles are more than twice their original size because of a random horrible sunburn, I'm fine! The funny part about the sunburn is that I got it during the 40 minutes I sat on the beach almost fully clothed (but in shorts), writing in my journal, and waiting for my friends to show up so we could find a good part of the beach to actually sunbathe and play in the ocean. As it was early morning and wasn't actually hot out, I hadn't bothered to put sunscreen on and was just passing the time... until I realized my legs seemed to be a little red. As I spent the rest of the day covered by the ocean or towels or pants, I know my sunburn came from that little bit of time.. Weird! I hobbled slowly through the airports Monday, thankful I had my more comfortable Croc sandals to wear, since normal shoes and pants don't fit my larger than life shins and feet. Gross.

But anyway, between the nightlife, the great breakfasts with chilequillas, uber-fresh seafood, beautiful scenery and artwork, and wonderful people, I was never disappointed in the trip. Vallarta is a newer tourist town that is slowly getting the hang of their thriving tourist industry. Tourists who've been visiting for the past 20+ years mention the changes with sadness, although noting the convenience of various specific changes- like the fact that almost everyone takes dollars, not just pesos. The fact that there was a Starbucks every five blocks, a Hooters right next to the ever-popular Los Arcos (the center of the downtown nightlife), Office Depot, Home Depot, Carl's Jr, Pizza Hut, KFC, Dominoes Pizza, Chili's, and at least two Blockbusters in the small area I traversed during my time there, was a little surprising, but only slightly comical. The down side was that the natives now understood that they could increase their prices with little shock from us, and most of the food, beer, and taxi rides cost what I would have been charged here. It's all good, though, I was just happy to be away from the restaurant.

Besides hanging out with my dear friend that I haven't seen in several months, my moment of personal achievement came my first of the two full days I was there. We went on an Adventure Tour. There are a ton of canopy tours available in Vallarta and the surrounding towns, but this is the one I'll go on again if I ever get to go back. The adventures started right away, with us stepping into raft-like speedboats that were driven so wildly across the ever-so deep Banderas Bay, that I didn't even question the fact that I would soon be tossed backwards off of the bucking boat, but planned a way to throw myself so I wouldn't hit the propeller. Miraculously we all made it through just fine. Our boat drove into a mountainous cove and "docked" on the tiny beach at the head of it, which had a couple of cantina shacks straigh out of Gilligan's Island. The families who lived there played in a river they'd created by digging a snake-like valley out of the sand, creating a sort of harbor for their personal fishing boats at the end of it.

We were loaded into the backs of open-air, caravan-like trucks, complete with two benches on either side, a jumpseat attached to the back fold-up gate, and rubber straps hanging from the ceiling. Self-assured, we laughed and pushed our seatbelts aside, only to regret the move later as our driver forgot that we were in a massive vehicle making our way up winding mountain roads, rather than speeding crazily through downtown Mexico City in an armor-covered taxi. Holding on to the straps for dear life, and struggling to stay upright on our seats, we winced as we saw the sudden valley drop-offs only inches from us as we bounced around the road, weaving around approaching cars.

Although the truck stalled out a couple of times on various hills, we made it to our destination just fine- all of us just a little closer from forced intimacy as we'd continuously invaded each others' personal zones and laughing from the thrill of our second "adventure". The best was yet to come.

We were suited up in our harnesses and helmets and given bandannas to wear for the dust. Lorena was the tour guide who helped me the most out of the entire trip, but every single one of the tour guides were hilarious, trustworthy, and very knowledgable. There was no way I could have gotten through the next several hours without each one of them, especially Lorena, as she seemed to always be the guide with us when I needed the most assurance or help.

We were given a five minute tutorial on how to ride a donkey, were paired up with a certain donkey, climbed on, and started up one of the mountains of the Sierra Madres. My donkey was particularly stubborn, often pausing in the middle of ledge-less, steep, tiny, mountain trails that dropped straight off to nibble on plants or just stand there until Lorena, who happened to be riding in line behind me, would sing, whip, or yell at her to move. And she would snort from annoyance and move on. My time with Liluana (my donkey) ultimately stopped fifteen feet below the top of the mountain, when she refused to budge. Lorena again to the rescue! (her words, not mine), and Liluana was tugged up the mountain and I was helped off.

We were then given a 7 minute tutorial on how to do the zip lines, headed a little farther up the mountain and began zipping immediately. Thankfully Lorena was our first zip-line guide, although I think I would have been just as comfortable with any of the others. Our role in zipping here at the Adventures Vallarta tour was a little easier and a little harder than my role in zip-lining at the camp I once worked at, as (1) the camp zip-line may have only been 30 feet high, while this one was an average of 150 feet high, (2) the camp zip-line required me to drop straight off of the 30 feet ledge while this one only required me to lift up feet while in standing position (much easier, let me tell you), and (3) the Adventures Vallarta zip-line required me to have my incredibly gloved hand brushing the line above me so I would brake farther down the line, while we just rocked back and forth until naturally stopping at the camp zip-line. As terrified as I am of heights, I braked pre-maturely on almost every zip-line and even came to a stop too early and had to pull myself in twice. But I still enjoyed it.

About the time I got the hang of zipping and was no longer scared of it, they changed up our routine. We suddenly zipped into a little crowded ledge against a cliff side with no sides to hang on to, and were then clipped onto a zip line going almost straight down, with a waterfall in the background. There was no way I could just lift my feet up and let myself fall straight down. Then the guide told me we were being balleyed (sp?) and I relaxed some. Thankfully my time at the camp ropes course allowed me to trust in our equipment and have a basic understanding of some of the terms, as balleying (once again, I'm not certain if this is the correct way to spell it) is a very controlled way of falling. Although I was braking like there was no tomorrow, I really wouldn't have had to do a thing, as the guide had me.

I arrived on another crowded ledge perched on top of a rock overlooking a high waterfall. From here we shuffled our way along, without anything to hold on to, and watched as they gave us a three minute tutorial on how to rappel (sp?). We were going to rappel down the waterfall into the water below. While I've balleyed other people, I don't think I've ever really rappeled before, and while the hand motions are virtually the same, I was having to concentrate on maintaining a perfect body position, figure out a safe place to step, and keep my safety had in position. I had a hard time keeping my safety hand underneath me while doing everything else. Meanwhile, the professional photographer whose been taking alternate paths and lines to be able to photograph us shows up on the side of the waterfall, telling us to pose for him and his camera. I think I managed a non-stressed smile in the middle of figuring out how to get my brake hand underneath me without letting go (as it was holding 20% of my weight). As hard as I was concentrating, I didn't realze I was at the bottom until I was told to jump off and landed in the brisk water, shaking from the muscle stress, and grinning from ear to ear. We then zipped down a short line that went along the rapids and landed in a natural pool, only to be hooked up to a line and start "drying off" by zipping some more.

The most challenging of all the activities that day was when we found ourselves standing on a plastic grate ledge that jutted out into the middle of the forest about five stories high without anything but black string to hold on to on either side. We were always attached, but as terrified as I am of heights, I always need something solid on either side of me or I freeze. Imagine a thin plastic grated diving board five stories high that ends in a small "T" and only string to hold on to. This was the only time I thought I wasn't going to make it as the holes in the grating were huge and it shook with every step someone took. But I concentrated on my friend in front of me, made to the end of the "T", was hooked up to another line, and told to free rappel down- which means to sit in your harness and let the safety rope slide slowly through your safety hand so you lower yourself. We did this along another waterfall, and I had so much fun. I hit the water with an even bigger grin than before, ready to take on any other challege they thought to throw our way. Of course, it was simple rope bridges and zip lines from there on out.. how do you top free rappelling off of a grate ledge in the middle of the tropical forest?

The end of the adventure came soon after that and we hiked down a quick trail to the adventure site. We were given fruit, water, and Mexican beer, and climbed back into the trucks of death to go back down to the cove. Once in the cove, we surrendered our shoes yet again, waded into the water and jumped into the raft boat to go home. Only, we noticed there was a problem with our boat as our driver wasn't taking us back to the Vallarta Marina at top speed anymore. We were puttering along in the ever-so deep Banderas Bay, where whales come to have their babies, dolphins swim, and mantra rays reside on a little raft boat with no sides, cover, or lights, and the sun was setting quickly and we had miles to go. Fun. After over half an hour of a usually ten to fifteen minute trip, we noticed another boat skipping across the water in our direction. Our savior! The other raftboat driver pulled up alongside us and held the two boats together as best as possible with a rope... which only meant that we each had random windows of time when the sides were close together, not that the sides were actually touching. We tumbled into the other boat, smashing knees and shins along the way and made our way back into the harbor, where our co-adventurers pointed out Bill Gate's yacht, complete with a helicopter and GPS navigation bubble on top.

We had many other "adventures" while we were there- nightlife on the Malecon, a creepy creepy gay bar in the Romantic Zone, night swimming, and just trying to get a bottle of water in a city surrounded by the ocean, tequila, and beer.

My flights were great, and I'm almost able to declare myself a confident flier. I'll need a little more practice, though, before I quell the desire to get drunk before the first flight of the day (which, for the record, I never succumbed to).

Although it was an extremely short trip and my friends are still in Mexico, I got to do everything I wanted and more. It was refreshing and I'm glad to be back... if even to just get a regular glass of water out of the sink.