Will you be my "friend?"

For someone who works in IT, I often find myself completely behind the times when it comes to technology. I still am not an avid texter on my cell phone (definitely don't have the short cuts down so take to long to type a message). I don't have a blackberry, or a cool new insight from Sprint. And when it comes to fixing the computers if they are broken, or not working correctly I leave that to Doug, my in-home PC tech.

However since our move to Cali, I have stepped up to blogging, which I appreciate as an outlet for my rantings only my family and friends can appreciate. And..I have learned the power of the social networking outlets out there. Yes...after many years in its existence, I am an officially addicted Facebooker.

It's funny, up until last year I didn't even know (other than a few comments here and there from people) what facebook was. I didn't know how it worked, what was involved. Nada. I had heard gobs about myspace (even visited a few celebrity my space pages when bored), but never had thought of going on either to "post myself a profile."

However, after being out here in California, an area that was so foreign, I figured why not? My co-worker out in the UK has been talking about it for a while, joking around with me about it so one day, after work, I signed up. And the day of my addiction began.

How crazy is it now that I am up to around 80 people as friends (not at all bragging about that fact, actually shocked I KNOW that many people). Since joining I have found people I went to elementary school with, and haven't talked to in over 20 years. I have found old high school acquaintances I lost touch with since moving on to college and jobs, and I have added new friends that I met out here in California, or at my brother's wedding. People that never existed in my world 6 months ago, but I can now routinely see how their lives are going, even if I don't see them every day.

At first, I wondered if joining something like facebook feels like you are somehow spying on people. Are we allowed to view too much of a person we might have just met if they have pictures of a raging party they had, or cute shots of their kids? And am I proving myself a boring life if I am spending hours on end looking thru said pics, rather than just calling that person up to talk to them, or setting up time to see them.

The truth for me..yes and no. In one respect it does feel like I can get easily sucked in to keeping up with people I don't know but am curious about thru something like facebook. It makes it easy for me to know how they are, without putting in the effort. And hey, they chose to put stuff up there they want people to see. But it has also provided me an outlet to keep in touch with my close friends and family I was afraid I would loose touch with since our move. A good majority of my facebook friends still reside in Colorado. I guess in some weird way it provides me with a bridge to life back home. And it has helped me to grow early friendships that developed in the time since to flourish because I can keep touch with those I don't see every day. Plus, thru the power of numerous applications (as cheesy and lame as some may be), people get a side of me through goofy super pokes and pieces of flair, that they might not see through and email. It feels like I am a part of some fun social experiment.

Does facebook have it's drawbacks, you bet! I find myself drawn to picking up a computer the minute I get home from work, the gym, my runs, to see who might have "wrote on my wall" to say hi, or who might have sent me a flower for my green patch. And I am always excited to see if another person I know has popped online, and decided to friend me and say a quick hello and how are you. Somehow, cheesy as it sounds, it makes living in California, a place with TONS of people, but still foreign to me after 6 months,, a bit less lonely. But I can't let it replace wanting to go out and experience life out here. I am still doing the most of what I can to enjoy our California adventure outside of my facebook profile, and my computer.

I joke now that Facebook, seems uncool since so many people I know are now on it. My mom joined, after my brother got married, so she could make sure and view any and every picture someone from the wedding party might have posted online. My brother and new sis in law had their cat join..since Cotton happens to have an email (all that is required for "membership"). Even my sweet husband, who didn't' understand the allure of why I was online at night's writing on people's walls, has succumbed to the power that is Facebook and is kicking my butt on a game of scrabble. 

Maybe someday it will get old. So far I go through lulls, where I don't really care who said hi, or who might be trying to send me a invite for a new app. Where I don't change my status to something witty and then send off good kharma. I have had complete strangers try to friend me, in an attempt to boost up their friend numbers. Until the time comes though when I am no longer curious, and when I feel I have saw all that I need to and, when I am all "friended" out, don't be surprised if I throw a sheep your way to say hello.

The mystery that is...IKEA

A few years ago for Christmas, we seemed to get everything Ikea from Doug's mom. Ikea pot holders, cute little towels with hearts from his sister, and kitchen towels after Doug told his mom we needed more kitchen stuff for our kitchen back in our Colorado house. While I had heard of Ikea, up until moving to Southern California I had never actually been in one. I knew it was some huge, big box of a store, but having never experienced the trip to "mecca" I never had a clue of all you could find there. That all changed when we "became" Californians.

My first trip to Ikea occurred a few weeks after we had lived here together in January. Doug, having spent a few nights there off and on himself before I had moved here, had done a great job of furnishing a lot of our condo here in Cali with Ikea furnishings. All in all, not a bad idea. This way it left the majority of our good stuff in our house in Colorado to come back and use, and with Ikea being so inexpensive it was not a bad way to grab what needed without dropping a lot of dough. Doug even went a little "funky" grabbing a few oddly red shaped tables so we could use in our computer room.

Anyway, my first experience there sucked me into the dance. We have an Ikea about 15 minutes from our place, and upon pulling into the parking garage I knew it was on. The parking garage alone is worth commenting on; A massive amount of concrete with tons of tiny little parking spots, on that day all full as the eye could see. Why were so many people trekking to this place on a Sunday in JANUARY I thought. Guess there was nothing better to do as it rained outside. I tried to control my excitement as we got out of the car and walked to the big red entrance sign.

Once inside, my senses were overloaded. People coming to and fro all carrying these obnoxious yellow bags. Some had found the carts (which are not readily available when you first come in, you get them later). Immediately I got nervous and freaked out. Was I going to be able to handle my first Ikea experience, unscathed? Would I be fighting an older lady for the last bath mat?

Doug, by this time an old pro, steered me to the paper and pencil kiosk. For all who have never been to an Ikea, this is the important first stop. Everything in the massive Ikea store that is over a certain amount, or certain weight must be picked up in the "self serve furniture" aisles. You write down all that you want or need, and then are forced to grab it at the end, on your own, based on the descriptions and aisle listings. While it is extremely efficient, it is always nerve racking as you never know if you are truly grabbing the correct box.  But first..before you get to self serve...you wander. Wander to find all you need. Wander to search everything you can. Wander because there seem like endless possibilities of what you could buy.

So wander we did. I soon learned why Doug had made a list before we got there of all we needed. Walking through some of the aisles, people casually strolling like they had come to Ikea to "give them something to do" were blocking major thoroughfares. Normally I am a patient person when I shop, wanting to take my time and survey all I could purchase if I wanted to. But Ikea strikes something in me that I felt even that first time there, frustration. Frustration that people are taking forever ahead of you. Frustration for people who like you, are just trying to find the cheapest things so they wander and they search. People who will stop at nothing to beg, borrow or steal for the last light fixture, or cool yet extremely mass produced print of Audrey Hepburn. It makes you want to rush for what you need and get out..at least for me. Before your annoyance levels hit a critical stage.

About an hour and 1/2 and a couple hundred dollars later, we made it out of the big blue and yellow building. I've joked since then with Doug that Ikea is similar to 7-11s. In S. California if you can find an Ikea, you are never lost. Since that crazy first experience I can honestly count the times I have been back on one hand (which does comfort me some, especially since I first thought after my first experience that I could totally spend too much time in that place, weekly if given the chance. Thank God that didn't come true).  I am not sure I could handle having the Swedish Meatballs again.

Oh yea..that is something else I forgot to mention, the Ikea cafeteria. Every Ikea has one, for the hungry bargain shopper to feast on some quick assembly line like food in the midst of your shopping. On another occasion Doug and I found ourselves in the land of the store with the funny name, we made the mistake of going to said cafeteria. It seemed harmless enough, and both of us were starved. So rather than rush through our shopping experience to hit the Chipotle across the street, we decided to dine in the cafeteria. The delectable morsels that graced my plate...a helping of Swedish meatballs with this creamy brown sauce and mac and cheese. Carb and starch central. Immediately I new it was a mistake. While I am never one to turn down a good mac and cheese, Ikea has away of making theirs tasteless. Of course hungry, I gobbled it up. Next..the 1/2 order of Swedish Meatballs. I am a meatball fan. Be it Italian ones, or Swedish, I have often thought there isn't a way a person can go wrong with meat, a few bread crumbs all rolled together to form yummy nuggets that are meatballs. These....will go down as the ones my tummy still remembers. I have now banned the use of Swedish and Meatball in the same sentence, let alone together to describe a meal. Blech.

All in all..Ikea lives up to all I like and dislike about Cali sometimes. It provides you countless choices, all at reasonable prices. And the stuff is not half bad, as long as you realize it is temporary and might need to be replaced in a few years. However, for now, I think I will stick with one of the few California business to have captured my heart, and desires to go back again and again, the awesome....Trader Joe's!

Que?

Before we moved to California, I had an interesting discussion with my dad about diversity. Nothing against my neighborhood, or the areas I grew up in as a kid, but they lacked the diversity I knew I would find here in California. I jokingly told Daddy that I might have a great chance to get in touch with my roots out here, since California is so much more diverse population wise. I thought it might be a nice added changed to see other "brown people" like myself. While I have never felt out of place anywhere I went back home in Colorado based on my last name or color of my skin, coming to California, I knew was a chance to push myself out of my comfy zone, learn maybe a bit more about my culture, and expand my horizons.

However last night was a reminder of how vary apparent I am outside of that element. Here in California, hearing other languages is pretty much a given if you are out in public. Routinely at the mall, where I was last night, I can hear various degrees of Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, etc spoken. This is something that always struck me as really cool. So many backgrounds and cultures ending up in one spot to live and work, reminds me of why our country is so great. But it also points out a CLEAR example of one of my weak spots, I do not know Spanish :(

Yup, after 5 years of learning it in middle school, high school and college combined, I know very little Spanish, definitely not enough to converse at ease. I can watch the Spanish novellas on tv and understand about every 5th word. Wandering around the mall last night, I could gather a few words here and there from various conversations, but not nearly enough to feel comfortable. And it became much more clear why this would've been important last night as I was getting my hair cut.

Moving out here, I really wanted to find a decent place to get my hair chopped. I have such thick, frizzy hair, most places do not cut it correctly. And after being a cheapskate on how much I paid my hair for so long, a few years ago I decided that maybe if I paid more they would cut it better. 

So within the first week of moving here, I found a decent place in the Mall close to our house. And my hairstylist normally does a GREAT job with my hair and I am happy. Last night though, my lady 1/2 paid attention because next to her, was her co-worker, yapping her ear off, in Spanish.

This is where my frustration about not knowing any Spanish spun my haircutting experience into a bit of a disappointing and LONG experience. While my haircut lady was cutting my hair, the co-worker just kept on yapping..again and again and again, in a fast paced Spanish I just couldn't keep up with trying to understand. Sure I heard every 10th word, and understood it (remedial words like bibioteca, or novella), but nothing to get a clear understand of what was so important this co-worker had to tell my hair cut lady RIGHT then and there. So badly I wanted to turn around and say in my strongest and most angry spanish, "Can't you see she is concentrating on finishing my hair. I have already been here for over and hour and 1/2. Just let her finish and then you can talk her ear off after I leave."

I keep seeing advertisements for Rosetta stone, the company that has pricey CDs available to teach a person any language with relative ease. I am contemplating calling them this weekend, and getting myself on that soon. For now, I guess I will continue hearing and understanding every third word. 

I've got gas...really expensive gas...

Ok, I am the first to admit I hate hearing older people sometimes give me the "man, when I was your age, things were cheaper, easier, people were nicer, etc." But Monday night I had my first 'bout of the "when I was young I remember when.." in my own way.

I was on my way to my Physical Therapy for my shoulder at the clinic close to our house.  I must admit, while driving to these PT sessions I always get a little nervous on how much longer I am going to actually have to keep going. I know they are for a good cause and the more I do my exercises they give me, the stronger my shoulder will get, and the sooner I can go back to being running around crazy Jess, but they still freak me out. I worry that I will not make enough progress in them and that one of my real goals (the 1/2 marathon in October) will begin to start slipping away. I also have some new races popping up I am thinking of doing (one is an underwear race, where all the people run in their skivies (I am sure there are people that actually do run in nothing but underwear alone, but we know I am too shy for that. The other race is a run up 75 floor in the US tallest building on this side of the Mississippi in downtown LA (the stair climb might be more doable since it isn't until Sept). 

Anyway, as I am driving to the PT session on Monday night, I notice about 2 minutes before pulling into the clinic that my gas light flickers on. Crap. I hate when that light goes on. I am always so paranoid that it will go on, and I won't notice or won't re-act quick enough and will find myself stranded, on a busy interstate, with no gas. So, I made a mental note to get gas after my therapy.

An hour and 1/2 later, with my shoulder a bit tweaked with pain, I headed to the gas station for some "food" for the Legacy. I threw in my credit card, and let the unleaded flow. About 5 minutes later the total rang up....and I almost swallowed my tongue. $61 dollars!

That is when my "when I was a kid..." thought hit my head. When I was a kid, even before I could drive, I can remember gas prices being so incredibly small. Has it really been that long ago that things were cheaper?

When my parents moved out of the house I grew up in, I remembered looking through stuff my mom was going to shred and throw away. Some of them were old cancelled checks. And some of those checks were for gas stations that used to be up the street from our house. TEN dollar checks...to fill up a full tank of gas! Man, those were the days. 

What cracks me up..is that I am so used to gas prices being insanely high now that it even didn't phase me going home to Colorado. One of the nights we were there, I had to fill up our rental with gas. Currently (as of 2 weeks ago) gas in Colorado is about 20-40 cents cheaper. So when I went to figure out which gas to use, I (without thinking) choose mid grade cause it was only 4.21. How weird is that to say that I am so used to paying about 4.65 dollars for gas that mid grade gas didn't seem at all unusual.

I want to believe there is going to be an end to the expensive gas prices. That some miracle will happen. Until then, at least I can rest assured knowing that my commute, while hectic at times cause of traffic, is a lot less miles than it used to be. 

It's getting hot in here...

Now that we have been back in California for a full week, I realize there are some things I need to wrap my arms around, and get  used to out here. One of the ones I still struggle with is the weather. After visiting Colorado for a week, I realize there is clearly a big difference between a summer day in California, and a summer day in Colorado.

Yes, I realize I am the same gal who was excited to come out here in the winter because it meant giving up my white knuckle driving in ice and snow. But when we first arrived here, I didn't realize that winter here in California meant rain, rain and more rain. I am normally a big fan of the heavens sprinkling down on us, but after a few weeks of it, it got old (I guess that means a move to Seattle is out!).

Now that summer is upon us, I am adjusting to a new climate reality that hits the minute I open the door of our little apartment, the heat. For June gloom has given way to the beginning of high 90s here in Cali. Making every weekend a beach weekend, or reason to head to the mountains for a cool off.

I know I might be complaining a bit much on it. But at least I am consistent. When it hits the high 90s or even 100s back home in Colorado I bitch as well :) (which it did actually do when we were home a few weeks ago. Maybe I just bring the heat with me wherever I go?) The biggest difference the cool down. In Colorado, one must always be prepared for the weather to change, and in the summer it is no different. Temps in the evening dip about 30 degrees, leaving you walking out of a restaurant, or a movie theater with a bit of a chill. You might have gone in with a sleeveless shirt, shorts, and flip flops. But I guarantee when you come out you are going to wish you had jeans, a sweatshirt, and shoes with socks. It can get chilly at night back home in Colorado. Although it does lend itself to a nice breeze that enters our windows at night there. Cooling off the house nicely, minus the AC.

In Cali, it is different. Our windows have stayed shut for most of the last 2 weeks since coming home because at night, it doesn't cool off much. I remember calling my mom a few months ago (when we hit a heat wave for the first time in the 100s), telling her it was still 92 degrees at 8:30 at night (9:30 back home in Colorado, the temps were probably down in the 60s at that point). Talk about unusual. We walked out of a movie last night here, and I told Doug I am so used to freezing when we open the door of the theater, the brisk Colorado air hitting me. Instead, it was a warm breeze, and when we started the car were greeted with it being still around 80 something outside at 8:30. Wow.

I am sure I will get used to the weather differences. I know I am going to have to, as this is just the beginning. Cali people have told me it just gets hotter as the summer progresses. I guess I have that to look forward to in August. (woo hooo). Until then, I will arm myself with a fan, my nalgene full of cold water, and the reminder that we are an hour and 1/2 away from the beach to cool off in the cold pacific waters.

Stay cool all! Happy Summer.

But both my legs are working!!?!

Very soon we will be celebrating the fourth of July. Last year we celebrated the same way we normally do, by going down to my aunt and uncle's for a BBQ. I also added in a new twist like I did with many of the other holidays last year by doing a 5K in Fort Collins on the morning of the 4th. This year though, we have different plans, probably going to the beach to beat the heat. But for me, there will be no 5K on Friday. For while I have two perfectly good legs, I can't run. Two good legs but can't run? That doesn't make sense right? Chalk it up to an experience here in California that went awry almost 4 weeks ago.

Almost a month ago Doug and I made our way down to Huntington Beach like we tend to on the weekends. It was a cloudy day, so at first, I thought maybe it wasn't worth going to the beach. But it was a Sunday, and the day that Doug was leaving for a trip to Sacramento, so we decided to hit the beach for a bit of the morning to do body boarding.

Keep in mind this kid was raised and lived in Colorado her whole life before here. While I have visited California, Hawaii, Mexico, and plenty other places that are near water, I have never really been comfortable with water sports. I have never been on a jet ski, have never been too far out in the ocean. IN fact, open water swimming in the ocean scares the pants off of me. 

But, moving to California, I decided I needed to give a California past time a try. Doug used to body board (boogie board) as a kid, and when the weather got nice enough to hit the beach, convinced me he needed a board. While I wasn't sure if I would like it, be scared of it, etc, I decided to get one too. And after our first experience at Huntington, was hooked. (That is what I get for a having a really good day in the water on my FIRST experience).

So that day, almost a month ago, was just another day of body boarding. The weather seemed a bit off, and so did the waves (they were choppy, and not that big), I figured I could at least try and ride in a few, and be happy that we got a beach trip in before we headed back to Colorado the following weekend.  That is when I made a critical, newbie error. I grabbed a wave way to close to shore, and got slammed. The wave crashed down on me, throwing me off my tiny little board of Styrofoam (or whatever they are actually made out of), and threw me to the sand. For those who aren't familiar with Huntington Beach, it is extremely shallow for a while as you head out from the beach into the ocean. This definitely worked against me that day, slamming me down on the sand and jacking up my shoulder. 

The official term, shoulder subluxation. It has meant dealing with the jokes and ridicule (well deserved I know) of people at work when I showed up in a sling. It has meant driving down to Orange County for training two weeks before we left for Colorado (a good hour drive) with one arm at the wheel on busy interstates. And it has officially meant no running, or eliptical, or gym in general for me in a month :(

Up until last year, this wouldn't have mattered. I was a self proclaimed sloth for a good 4 or 5 years where gym time was sporadic, where I didn't care what I ate or how much I ate of it, and where the idea of going to the gym at the early crack of dawn was lower in my mind that staying in my nice warm bed (also, this was when we still lived in Colorado, which meant there were mornings where getting up and driving thru snow to get the gym didn't sound as enticing as laying under a nice warm comforter did!

So as it stands, I am forced into my sloth like position, kinda. I COULD go to the gym, hop on a bike for an hour, and pedal mysef into oblivion. But will that give me the same satisfaction of burning calories on a run around the Rose bowl, or 40 minutes on the eliptical? No. 

I started my first set of PT this week to begin strengthening my right shoulder again. Up until this point I will be honest, I didn't feel like I was really that sore, or hurt. Yes it bothered me, but because it is the equivalent of a partial dislocation in my shoulder it is SO hard to tell what I actually really hurt. It isn't like a cut you can see blood run out of, or an elbow that might turn purple and blue because it is bruised. But the few stretching exercises they made me do (and felt demeaning in some way as they had me lifting one pound weights. Before my injury I was routinely doing butterfly bicep curls with 15 lbs on each arm), reminded me I have a LONG way to go before I am fully re-habbed.

So this 4th of July, I am resisting my selfish and probably stupid desire to run a race, good legs and all, until I know I am "allowed" to run again. Let's hope this stupid shoulder starts working normal soon!

The power of the paw

So, having just got back from Colorado a few days ago, I can honestly say it has been a bit of an adjustment back to "normal" living here in Cali.  Most of my California co-workers don't quite understand the allure of Colorado for me. I have had more than one person ask why I love Colorado so much, or if I am moving home again soon. What can I say...Colorado is just the place I am most comfy at. It is the place where my heart is deep down. That does NOT mean I don't appreciate California. And it also does not mean I don't support why we are here. I totally appreciate the opportunity Doug has been given out here, and know that we need to strike on this one while we were still "young and kid-less". But I think it is safe to say both of us agree that our California love is only temporary.

However, one of the things that drove me to come back home, and definitely one of the things I missed while back home in Colorado, were our meowers, our kitty cats. My little girl, Sienna had the pleasure of staying in the vet to board, since she is the high maintenance (read in special diet, special meds, special child ;) so I knew she  would be taken care of. Joey, Doug's cat, being the easier of the two stayed here at our condo to "watch the house."

It's funny...our house in Colorado seems so empty when these two are not in it with us. I am so used to holding the door open ever fearful Sienna will dart out, and I will have to drop everything to run after her. I am so  used to hearing her cries as I left for the morning when we lived back at home, it felt empty, the house back in Colorado without them. There was one point where I DID consider bringing one of them (first Joey, since I knew she would be here alone for a long time, and then Sienna at one point cause I knew a 9 day trip to the vet would be costly). But in the end they both ended up staying  here in California. And they both were missed. Joey was there to greet us on Sunday, a few cries of "YOU ARE FINALLY HOME!" rang out. Sienna graced us with her presence yesterday when I picked her up from the vet. It's funny, those who don't have animals just don't get the allure of them. I used to be worried I was turning into the crazy cat lady (for up until my girl Sienna, I really didn't like cats). I also worried that people wouldn't understand why she, or Joey even  are that important to me. (and Doug too although I know he won't admit it :D). Truth be told our animals are just another part of our family. They make us laugh on a bad day, annoy the heck out of us at 4:30 in the morning and  make us cry when they are hurt. I can't compare them to a child (because I don't have one of those yet, and know  children ARE very different). But I also know the power that the "paw" has over me! As I sit here typing this at the wee hours of the morning, Sienna is curled up behind me,  lying on our ironing board, taking a tiny cat nap. I am only too happy to see her back with us. She's had a few health problems this year, so every day I get to see her goofing out or being cute makes my day. She's one of the few reasons I was anxious to get back home to California. Who knew a little furry thing...with such small paws, would grab hold of my heart so strongly and not let go?

Side note: I finished this blog and published it, just as my poor hubby alerted me to one of our cats, Joey, doing laps up and down on the bed to wake him up this morning. That is the evil side of the paw ;)