Kentucky to California: Live Blogging!

11:40am Sacramento time:

I made it! Dear anyone who doesn't know any better - The inside of an airplane cabin full of people and no air circulation is NEVER the right place to spritz on some perfume. EVERRR.

Get me to an In n Out, STAT!

10:47am, About 100 miles from Sacramento:

You know how when you are flying internationally, say to Japan or the Philippines, and you have to endure like twenty or more freaking hours of flying and you think to yourself, "From now on, flying just inside the US will not be a big deal at all! So not annoying and torturous!" WRONG. It's still annoying and torturous. Sorry, Louis CK. Modern flight is a miracle, but it's still annoying.

Teleportation, take me away!

10:42am West Coast time, somewhere between Denver and Sacramento:

Are we sure this leg from Houston is only four hours? Because the captain just said that we are about 45 minutes from arrival and I'm pretty sure I've been on this plane for twenty hours. Peen Carrot Tattoo Guy actually ended up being very nice and amiable, but way too chatty. I pretty much had to engage in Project Possum (pretending to be asleep) as soon as we took off. Sorry, Peen Carrot Tattoo Guy. I don't do airplane conversation. 

Omg. Get me off this plane.

9:05am:

Here's a photo from our descent into Houston. 

So much for bathroom or coffee. I had just enough time to navigate through the Houston airport's highly unsatisfactory terminal directions, get to the right terminal, and then the right gate, just in time to find my flight almost finished boarding. And by the time I got to my row, there was some lady sitting in my window seat when she is supposed to be in the middle seat, but the flight attendant was like, "Well, I would suggest you take the middle seat anyway because there will be more room underneath for your dog." And I was like, "Ugh, fine. Whatever." But just see if I give up EITHER armrest, Lady Who Can't Read Seat Designations And Is Currently Getting All Comfortable And Angling For This Armrest That I Have Already Claimed As My Own In Exchange For That Window And Wall That You Now Get To Enjoy.

Omg, does the guy to my left have a peen tattooed on his forearm? Oh wait, maybe it's a joint. Or a baby carrot? 

Oh goody, they've already started the pre-flight announcements. Middle seat AND no headphones? See you in four extremely grouchy hours.

WHY DOES EVERYBODY SMELL LIKE B.O.???

8:21am Houston time:

Greetings from Houston! Or at least from a runway in the Houston airport where we've been waiting for our gate to clear for nearly half an hour. Assuming I get out of here soon and have an hour to wait for my connection, the questions I must inevitably confront: To airport bathroom or not to airport bathroom? Also: To coffee or not to coffee? Oh God, I want coffee. I haven't had any this morning and HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I'VE BEEN AWAKE SINCE THREE IN THE FREAKIN' MORNING? But coffee during travel inevitably means having to pee (or worse!) during travel and that is just no bueno. I once made myself hold it from a flight from Dallas to Charlotte and then a drive from Charlotte to Brevard. Long story short, I had a UTI for TWO MONTHS. In the mountains. You're learning too much about me. Time to change subjects.

We're still inside this winged metal tube breathing in other people's farts. But the pilot keeps reassuring is that it will be "just a few more minutes" so I am hopeful. (Hahaha as if.)

6:38am:

Well. Dreams don't come true, kids. Effing late boarders and their effing taking of the seat next to me. 😡 Oh well. At least he smells like Aveda hair products. Off to pretend sleep land. Only twenty minutes delayed. Not bad.

6:19am:

Boarded but not yet taken off (doy). There is currently nobody sitting next to me. I repeat: There is currently nobody sitting next to me. Could this be? Can dreams come true? Oh Lord, I'm knocking on all the plastic and faux vinyl I can possibly reach right now. Close those damn doors so nobody else can get in this plane!

Also, here's the view from my seat. Almost makes the 6am awake time worth it. Almost.

6:03am:

Boarding. What an enthralling update. What is enthralling is that this flight is on time. Wait, did I just jinx myself? I need to knock on wood. THERE IS NOTHING WOODEN IN THIS AIRPORT. Knock on metal and faux vinyl.

5:45am:

Things that should be illegal:

1. Waking up at 3am to drive to Louisville to catch a 6am flight.

2. Businessmen who stand too close behind you in the security line and bump into your bag every fifteen seconds.

3. Regulation-size candy bars that cost $2.50.

Things I have already realized I forgot to pack:

1. A swimsuit

2. A squeaky toy for BB

3. Earbuds

Who even travels without earbuds or headphones anymore? Gaaah. Now I'll have to INSTANTLY pretend to be asleep in order to cut off all possible interaction from my airplane seatmates. Maybe they'll offer free headphones on the plane. Or maybe I can buy a pair here at the terminal. (Hahahahahaha - as if. It would probably be $200.)

On the plus side, I've only been sitting at our gate for five minutes and four older people sitting near me have already creamed themselves over BB. Appropriate response. Good job, fellow travelers.

Zombies and Fried Rice

Last night I dreamt that I was part of some rag tag comedic office environment and someone pulled a prank of filling the elevator with vegetable fried rice. I didn't even have any fried rice for dinner or lunch or breakfast, so I don't know where that came from. Fried rice needs no explanation, I suppose.

But wait, there's more!

I woke up from this dream and it was still dark out, so I decided to roll over and go back to sleep. And then I dreamt that I had had this dream (in my dream) about the office and the fried rice prank and was telling people about it. And then I woke up because it was all a dream.

INCEPTION BRRRRWAAAAANG!

My dream analysis leads to the conclusion that my brain is filled with anxiety about finding a job and would love to work in an office in which comedy hijinks and fried rice pranks occur. The end.

In related news: I am actually quite surprised that I had this dream last night and not a nightmare about zombies chewing our faces off, because Schmoobs and I have finally decided to check out this new show called "The Walking Dead." (Have you heard of it? It's pretty obscure...) Long story short, I may never eat meat again.

***

OMG TEN SECONDS LATER UPDATE!

I was sitting up in our Little Unemployed ABD Musicology Grad Student's room taking care of some coffee-inspired business when I opened up an email saying that I had been approved to continue my regular schoolyear office job during this summer. Hooray! I hope this isn't just a dream!

INCEPTION BRRRRWAAAAANG!

Middle Life.

What constitutes middle-aged these days? PLEASE DON'T SAY THIRTY-FIVE. Because I am like two weeks away from that. Ay caramba.

In related news, I've been doing a minimal amount of daily push-ups for about a week and this morning I noticed that my arms are not jiggling when I am shaking the used coffee grinds out of our reusable k-cup filters! Success!

Also in related news, I decided overnight that I am no longer into lip glosses (for the first time since, like, THE NINETIES, PEOPLE) and have made the leap to matte lip stains and even *gulp* lipsticks. Is this a sign of middle life? Am I supposed to start making appointments to get Botoxed now? Can I no longer wear shorts above my knees?

Well, I still give myself haircuts--and by "haircuts" I mean "I put my hair into two pigtails and then I take a pair of shears and slice off two inches or so of hair in front of our bathroom mirror"--so there's a sign that I'm not yet fully matured.

Flashback Friday! The one where I didn't update for like a thousand years and then wrote an effing novel to make up for it.

I am instituting a weekly series in which I revisit posts from my old (super secret...shhh) blog. This one is from June 2006, when I worked a 9 to 5 desk job for a symphony orchestra and entertained my friends and family with accounts of my daily misery. Posts like this serve as confirmation that Stubborn Tomato does not belong behind a desk pushing papers. But you do what you have to do to support your nasty habit of music and education. Anyway, here we go into the time warp...!

***

MONDAY, JUNE 05, 2006

Alright, you asked for it....

Y: AN UPDATE

Prologue

It was a dark and stormy night. But not really. The concert season had ended and Y was left with nothing to do at work but file a crapload of papers and forms in an organized and alphabetical manner into the Infernal Wall of File Cabinets. Unfortunately, she has become incapable of actually doing that sort of mindless activity for more than 20 minutes at a time, as cable television and TiVo have singlehandedly destroyed her once healthy and thriving attention span.

In spite of this, she still manages to go about her daily non-paper-filing-related work duties in a swift and efficient manner, and, hence, is finished with everything that needs to get done by 10:30 in the morning. This means that she is left with 6 1/2 mind-numbing hours with which to do nothing, and yet she must appear as though she is intensely involved in some important project, lest Bossman or Crazy Lunatic Supervisor walk by her desk and realize that she has done nothing but check her email 27 times in the last 5 minutes. Fortunately, this means that she now has more time than ever to appease the ever-growing mob of people that have been harassing her for not updating her blog in an apparently unacceptable time span of two weeks, and can finally update her goddamned blog. Are you happy now??!!

ps. I am 2 hours into the workday and my phone just now rang for the first time this morning. It was a wrong number. Go figure. It seems my usual beloved pack of wild, rabid telephone-wielding symphony patrons have gone into hibernation for the summer.

* * *

Chapter I: Aaah, the office.

IN WHICH I WAX NOT-SO-ELOQUENTLY ON THE BANALITY OF MY DAY-TO-DAY, 9 TO 5 EXISTENCE WORKING FOR A SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA

____________________________________

Ok, so the story goes that about a week and a half ago, our concert season ended, and I took it upon myself to take a one-week vacation. I promptly high-tailed it out of Knoxville and headed to Seattle for a few days to meet up with Schmoobs so we could partake in some various UW-related music events, look at apartments, state and re-state multiple times to each other how awesome Seattle is, have fits of anxiety about not finding a job there (that last one was just me) and just generally bemoan the fact that we still had two more months until we would finally be living there.

Here's the catch: I couldn't actually tell people at the office that I was going to Seattle, because:

a) Crazy Lunatic Supervisor happens to not only be crazy and a lunatic, but also paranoid. She thinks that everybody who takes time off from work is doing so because they are off searching for a new job and she will literally harass you multiple times a day asking you, "You're not taking time off because you have a job interview, are you?" or "You're not looking for a new job, are you?" so many ridiculous times that you have to muster up all your powers of self-control not to just pick her up and throw her off the nearby bridge in the hopes that she will get eaten by a troll. Never mind that she was kind of right to be paranoid in this instance because I am looking for a new job (ha!) and also right to be paranoid when Cool Co-Worker took the morning off a couple of weeks ago because of a "doctor's appointment," (haha!) and definitelyright to be paranoid when Bossman went on vacation for several days without telling anybody where he was going (haha again!). It doesn't change the fact that it's Really. Annoying. when she asks you all those questions.

b) Much of the office staff already knew that Schmoobs just graduated. Most also already had it in the back of their minds that he would be leaving Knoxville in the fall to go to doctoral school, and that I might go with him. Some were also privy to the information that he eventually chose the University of Washington. With that in mind, I knew that some on the staff were intelligent enough to put two and two together and realize what was up if I were to tell them I was going to Seattle during my vacation.

Oh, and remember that I did tell a few people about my devious plan while under the influence of margaritas (Oh, Tequila. You clever little devil...), but that's ok because I knew they (probably?) wouldn't tell anyone else. Needless to say, as far as everyone else in the office was concerned, I was going home to California to visit friends and family. The West Coast is where it's at, folks. For realz. Anyway, close enough, right? That's what I thought. Especially when I came back to work on Tuesday and had to go right to the weekly staff meeting, during which this dialogue took place in front of the entire staff:

Bossman: "So, how was your vacation?"

Me: "Awesome."

Clueless coworker: "Now, where exactly did you go again?"

Me: (gulp) "Um, back West...?"

Staff: "Awwwww, that's nice."

Me: (phew)

In any case, the office was sweet enough to throw me a little birthday party during the staff meeting, even though it was nearly one week after the fact. I would like to think that it was because, in the brief time that I've been working here, they've come to respect and appreciate my position as a pleasant and valuable member of the staff. But I know that it's really because they will use any excuse to get away from their desks and eat cake at 9:30 in the morning.

* * *

Chapter II: This one's for you, Robin.

IN WHICH I MAKE IT CLEAR THAT SEATTLE ROCKS HARD AND MY MOVING THERE MAKES ME EVEN THAT MUCH COOLER THAN YOU

____________________________________

Reasons why Y is moving to Seattle:

• Because she likes Schmoobs. A lot.
• Because she will have more opportunities to develop as a musician there.
• Because the clarinet teacher at UW is awesome.
• Because - all talk of seasonal depression aside - the conditions there are quite temperate and when the temperature is 82 degrees, it actually feelslike it's 82 degrees, not like you're standing on the surface of the sun and the air is so thick you can hardly breath, but it wouldn't matter if you could or not anyway because your face is about to melt off.
• Because she also likes Schmoobles's cat, Bela. A lot.
• Because she will be only one 2-hour, nonstop plane ride from her family, rather than an 8-10 hour, 1 or 2 stop airborne nightmare.
• Because she needs to get the hell out of Knoxville.

Reasons why Seattle rocks hard:

• Because there's water everywhere!
• Because you can drive to Vancouver in a few hours and cross the Capilano Suspension bridge and eat buffalo burgers.
• Because the oysters there are abundant and delicious.
• Because they're liberal!
• Because they're so liberal that, even while living in the holy birthplace of Starbucks, most of them don't like going to Starbucks because it's too corporate (I, of course, will still remain true to my passion, however blasphemous that may make me there).
• Because they're so liberal that I actually felt like a stuffy conservative when I went to visit last week!
• Because, not only do they have "The Da Vinci Code" in theaters, they also have "The Da Kinki Code" at the Lusty Lady.
• Because I will once again be living in a city that doesn't allow smoking in public establishments (sorry, Ben).
• Because I can ease off my allergy medication there, I think.
• Because it's on the West Coast, where I belong!
• Because I could go on forever, but I won't.

Reasons why my moving there makes me that much cooler than you:

• Ummm...it just does, ok?

* * *

Chapter III: Because 3 chapters feels better than 2.

IN WHICH I SPOUT OFF A NUMBER OF RANDOM THOUGHTS IN MY BRAIN LIKE I SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING ON THIS BLOG FOR THE PAST 2 WEEKS

____________________________________

So a couple of days ago, I was eating some leftover office cake at my desk when Crazy Lunatic Supervisor came over and said, "You eat sweets more than anyone I know and you stay so little! ...But that's ok because I didn't start getting big until I hit 40." To which I had two replies: #1 (the actual one): "Yeah, it'll probably catch up to me. But until then...," and #2 (the one in my head): "Even if I eat nothing but oatmeal raisin cookies and iced coffees from Starbucks for the rest of my life, I am at least not a crazy, paranoid loon, so please don't imply that I will end up anything like you at forty. Ew."

Either I am all of a sudden paying for it for slacking off on my allergy medication for several weeks, or I am getting a cold, but I have been sneezing at like 40 BPM all morning. I hit up my Advair last night, but it might be a case of too-little too-late. Speaking of allergies, do you ever rub your eyes so hard when their itchy that you get scared one of them might pop out? I do. When I was little, somebody (probably an evil sibling) told me that Raul Julia (you know, from Addam's Family) once rubbed his eyes so hard that he accidentally popped one of his eyeballs out of its socket and he had to pop it back in. Gross. That stuff sticks with you. Now everytime I rub my eyes I have to tell myself to ease up a little bit so I don't have to pop my eyeball back in.

Ben (i.e. my Daddy #1) is leaving Knoxville in exactly one week. This turns my blackened heart so much more dark and stone-like that if I were to stick it up some un-named orifice, it would turn into a diamond. And then I would use the money I gained from selling that diamond on Ebay to hire stealthy ninjas to kidnap him and take him to Seattle. Or just buy some plane tickets to visit him. Whichever. Anyway, Ben: You've been pretty much my best friend here in Knoxville and I'm going to miss you tremendously. I will need to call you periodically to engage in some phone you-know-what (Don't think dirty thoughts. It involves the clarinet, I swear...). And don't forget that before you go, we need to pull off the single greatest food event East Tennessee has ever seen : The United Nations Food Fest!*

Seriously, my allergies are out of control. I want to pop my nose off my face and put it in a nice, soothing warm milk bath. And then throw my eyeballs in there while I'm at it because they are red and itchy. What is this thing with body parts popping out of my face today?

You know what my current favorite-television-show-of-all-time is (except for the perennial The Simpsons which will forever and always occupy the top space)? The Office. It touches me deeply in places I never knew existed in my soul until I started working my current job. I want a Dwight bobble-head to put on my desk. If you don't already, you need to start watching it. Doing so, much like listening to the Dvorak Cello Concerto, will make you a better, more attractive human being.

Ok, so I just got back from a walk to the mailbox down the street and in the process of doing so, was whistled at twice by a couple of shower-deprived gentlemen. If I weren't already fully aware of the fact that I am completely fabulous, this would have done wonders for my self-esteem. Also, I walked by another shower-deprived not-so-gentleman who was literally pee-ing right there on the sidewalk. And on that note....

* * *

Epilogue

IN WHICH I SAY TO ALL OF YOU: "OK, I'VE GONE AND DONE IT. ARE YOU SATISFIED? I BETTER GET SOME GODDAMNED COMMENTS OUT OF THIS."

____________________________________

Ok, it's now 2:40 in the afternoon and I've actually been working fairly consistently without having to go anywhere near the damned wall of file cabinets. Huzzah! Unfortunately, I've finished most everything else I can possibly do except for file those papers away. Which is my cue to take my lunch break and think of other productive things to do that don't involve inserting things in alphabetical order into a cabinet. And don't say:

1) check my email

2) check my Myspace

3) read the news on msn.com

4) read all of the other blogs linked from this one

5) go to the bathroom and reapply my lipgloss for the 10th time

6) go to the kitchen to get some (more) coffee

7) go to the kitchen to check on the office cake situation

8) finish the minutes from last month's Board meeting

9) read about the new Kings head coach

10) check my email again.

Because I've already done all those.

* * *

THE END

* In which we hit up as many restaurants as we possibly can in one day in an attempt to sample all the cuisines of the countries represented in the United Nations. Don't ask why, just learn to accept. And join in if you like.

In which I obsess over squirrels in order to gain order and control of my life.

Wedding planning to-do list:

1. TOO MUCH AAAAUUUUGH.

Why can't I be the dude in this scenario and just show up?

(Blah blah, it's a very meaningful day and we will treasure it forever I know I know, etc. just let me have my momentary freak outs, okay?)

Weddings, man. Am I right? No matter how much you insist that you want something easy, simple, small, and uncomplicated, wedding planning still finds a way to be stressful and difficult. I can't even imagine what it's like for couples who actually want something huge and extravagant and ridiculous. But maybe they enjoy that type of thing. Anyway. I like to think that in some parallel universe there's another Stubborn Tomato that got engaged to a Schmooblebottoms and they wisely decided to just elope, goddamnit.

I mean, not to sound bitter and unpleasant. I am excited and really looking forward to The Big Day (ugh eyeroll) and celebrating with our family and friends. But, man, the cost. There's something about getting hitched in your thirties instead of as fetuses (i.e. your twenties) that really makes you struggle with the "Do we host a wedding? Or do we get a new stove for our kitchen?" dilemma. Sigh. Adulthood is awesome.

I know that a lot of this wedding-related financial stress is coming to the surface because all this preparation also happens to coincide with the same exact month where my assistantship funding through the University is karate chopped into oblivion and I have yet to score an interview for any of the jobs that I have applied for. I wouldn't be nearly this worried and anxious if I had a salary to offset the spending. But I have faith that the job thing will work itself out the way it is meant to work itself out, and I won't feel so personally financially choked.

Anyway, on to more innocuous things. Like squirrels.

They're cute. They're dumb. They're like woodsy rats with big bushy tails that quiver in some strange, disturbing way that makes you wonder if they are doing some weird sexual rodenty thing that you shouldn't be watching. They also love pilfering our birdseed, inhibiting the beautiful miniature feathered dinosaurs of our region to grace our living room window view. They also don't realize that the fresh, delicious corn that I put out specifically for them is infinitely more desirable (I assume) than those old, stale sunflower seeds.

Hey. Dummy. Eat that fresh, delicious corn that's effing just sitting there waiting for you.

Yes, that corn. The one that is sitting there completely in your direct field of vision and glistening with golden beauty in the spring sunshine.

There, at least one of you isn't a dummy.

On a related note, because of the effing squirrels climbing and humping all over that bird house and shaking the seeds everywhere, the mulch underneath regularly sprouts green things. Because I am s-m-r-t, I figured out nearly instantly that those were sunflower sprouts. So I ate one. Just out of curiosity. Pretty tasty and nutty. Also, I'm pretty sure that enough time has passed since we sprayed the area with weed killer that maybe I won't die from self-inflicted poisoning.

Other coping mechanisms of the day:

1. Ran our shower curtain liner in the wash with bleach. If I can't clear my life of financial anxiety, at least I can clear it of mold and mildew.

2. Bought poppy seeds to plant. Must also buy peony and jasmine to plant. If I can't watch my bank account grow and thrive, at least I can watch other beautiful things grow and thrive.

3. Drink coffee. I may be stressed and anxious, but at least I have a healthy colon.

Things that have happened since my last update.

The youth of America have decided to take out all apparently non-essential "b"s from the word "babe" and came up with "bae." (Possibly this etymology stems from universal worship of Beyoncé, resulting in "bey," which was transformed to "bae"? I'm not really sure. But I've often wondered if this is the case.)

We said goodbye to our President of the Finer Things Club and Sun King, Bela, (HELLO UP THERE, BELA! WE MISS YOU!) and welcomed our new resident crazy, Tre (short for Andre, of the Double Entendres).

We moved to Lexington. That was, um, three years ago. And we bought a house. And then I finished my doctoral coursework for a Ph.D. in Musicology, which is a real thing. (Go me!) Now I'm dissertating. Well, that's not all the way true. Now I'm frantically searching for a job, trying to plan a wedding, and getting ready to prepare for the process where I begin dissertating.

"Dissertating" is a word, spellcheck. The committee decided.

I took both French and Spanish language courses in the same semester that I decided to focus my research, write a dissertation prospectus, and take doctoral exams on the music of Renaissance Spain. Incidentally, I became really good at remembering the Mac shortcut for typing in the ´ accent mark on documents.

American Idol was cancelled, thank Jeebus. Right on time!*
*(If this had happened ten years ago.)

We decided to throw caution to the wind and got engaged. I know, ten years is rushing it. YOLO, am I right? (Also, "YOLO" became a thing. It stands for "Ys Often Looks Ornery.")

I got really good at making frittatas. (The best tatas are free tatas, am I right?)

Time flew. Life continues. We move forward. Or at least we try.