Bedroom redecoration: Phases 1&2

Phase one is planning, but that is pretty much ongoing until I'm done. Ish. I don't think I'm good at being "done" with a room.

Anyway, last night I dropped by Target and picked up a few items:

1) Mattress topper. For some reason, our swanky sleep number bed has become quite lumpy. This thing was an awesome investment. Lumps = gone.

2) Lamp 1. I need to figure out if I'll use this in the bedroom, or if I'll yoink a lamp from the living room and put this in its place.


3) Lamp 2. Very simple. Also might be switched out for living room lamps.



Now to figure out where I want to put these guys.

Other potential plans (always subject to change):

- Keep the current duvet cover and find a textured purple throw and some purple pillows (you can see a small glimpse of our blue striped duvet here):


- Stop thinking about just getting totally new bedding (too expensive):



That counts as a greyish lavender, I think. In the purple family.

- Deep purple curtains
- Dark brown bamboo roman shades
- Paint?! Maybe?!

I have to keep in mind, of course, that I want to move in about a year. I don't want to sink a ton of money into something that's going to change so soon. For all I know, our new place won't lend itself to any stuff we buy now.

"The bedroom is kind of oppressive"

That's not what I want to hear my boyfriend say.

Looks like it's time to redecorate, but I have no idea where to start. There's a bunch of furniture we're stuck with, some sentimental, some budget-friendly. The bed is quite literally falling apart (thanks a lot IKEA, we're sleeping on beams propped up with books).

I asked him for color preferences and he said, "purple."

Now to figure out how to make a purple room masculine and a small room feel cozy and inviting.

Pictures to come.

The dog who ate Christmas

Just two hours before I was to taste sweet, sweet freedom and hit the road to visit family and friends in Montana, Miss Cheeto decided to taste some sweet, sweet chocolate. I believe it was a suicide attempt.

She ate this:


And this:

And a bunch of this:



And, for the record, when I say she ate these:


I mean that she ate everything. The paper bag. The foil wrappers of the individual chocolates. All of it. Even the wrapping paper. (Well, *most* of the wrapping paper. It's how we knew she got into the chocolate.)

We found this out shortly after she did the deed, so I assumed we could rush to the vet, get her stomach pumped, and all would be well.

I was wrong.

First we rushed to the vet, who said that it was good we got her in before the seizures started. Seizures?!

Then we went home while they knocked her out and pumped her stomach. They called to tell us there was a lot of stuff in her belly (no duh!) and that we'd maybe be able to bring her home the next day.

Later, worry set in, so I had the boyfriend call and check on her. I asked if we could go visit her.

When we got to the vet's office, they brought out a limp Cheeto and laid her on the floor. Her face was scrunched up in pain and she was breathing very, very hard. I watched her little doggy cheeks puff in and out with each breath. (This was definitely not the same as panting.) Then I cried. She struggled to try and sit up to greet us, but failed. About ten minutes later she managed to gather enough strength to put her head on my foot. More crying.

We went home, worried through the night, then called the vet in the morning.

Apparently she had seizures throughout the night and went to the doggy ICU to keep her organs from failing. She also had a doggy EKG after she developed a heart murmur.

We went back to the vet to visit. She looked haggard and I was told she hadn't bitten anyone.

The biting thing is actually significant. She HATES strangers. HATES them. She bites and she bites regularly (we're working on that, she had a traumatic little life before us). We saw the staff pick her up, bathe her, etc. without so much as a "Grrrrrr." This made me worry.

She stayed another night and we went to pick her up in the morning.

The vet suggested that we go to a doggy surgery center for an endoscopy, just to make sure there wasn't anything else stuck in her tummy (the x-rays were inconclusive on that front). The boyfriend and I struggled with the decision. It was probably going to cost a lot, but we do have pet health insurance. It was also going to be a big strain her little system, and considering she was in danger of her organs failing, I was concerned that it would be too much for her to be put under again.

In the end, we decided it was better for her to have the endoscopy, as they assured us that they could pull out any stray wrappers during the procedure. The boyfriend and I drove her to the doggy surgery center and dropped her off. They said that they'd call as soon as they knew anything.

We went to the mall to kill some time, and I managed to freak out at my poor boyfriend. There wasn't any good reason, I was just stressed as all hell. You're not in a good place if you're bursting into tears at Nordstroms.

A few hours later, we got a call from the surgery center. Cheeto's stomach was completely blocked with an immovable mass of wrappers, cherries and who knows what else. Surgery was happening, and it was happening now.

More crying.

Another night of waiting and we got the news that she could come home. We were also told that she was clear for traveling with us to Montana, as long as we were careful with her.

Her little tum-tum looked like this:


Finally, four days after our intended departure date, we hit the road with doggy and lots of medications in tow. (One for pain, one for her thyroid, one for her heart, and an antibiotic.)

I can't tell you how stressed out I was. I mean, I can try, but there's no way that words can express exactly how frantic I was.

Work has been very, very busy. Both dayjob work, 2nd job work, and my own side projects have managed to take up nearly every second of my free time. Los Angeles has felt oppressive, as I hit the point of despising my daily commute (freaking traffic). I wanted nothing more than to start my vacation. Then, two hours to freedom, I got hit with four days of thinking my baby puppy doggy was dying.

It was horrible. Just horrible.

And who knew chocolate was *that* toxic. I knew it was a no-no for dogs and cats, but I didn't realize that 13oz. of mixed truffles and chocolate covered cherries could kill a 22 pound dog. Had we not rushed her to the vet immediately (the office is just two blocks from our house) Cheeto would be dead.

Four days and $4,500* later, the boyfriend and I started our winter vacation. More on that soon.

*Here's hoping that VPI pet insurance delivers. Anything would be helpful.

For future reference:

1) White chocolate is by far the safest chocolate a dog can eat. Generally, they shouldn't even be phased by it.
2) Milk chocolate is also relatively mild. It's worth calling the vet about, as it can be dangerous in large quantities (which depends on the size of the dog).
3) Dark chocolate = death. It doesn't take too much (also depending on the size of the dog) to kill them.
4) Baker's chocolate = ultra death.

The boyfriend and I have resolved to keep chocolate out of our house entirely.

A few resources:

Dogs and Chocolate
Chocolate Toxicity and Dogs

Why videogame writing still needs some improvement

Star Ocean: The New Hope

So, my character in the game lands on a new planet and is soon assaulted by a bunch of big, scary spiders. He tries to shoot them with his gun, but their scary-spider-armor deflects his shots. He falls to the ground and scrambles to find an alternate weapon. One appears: a utility knife/sword thing. It ends up being an effective tool against the creatures on the planet.

Unfortunately, an hour or so later in the gameplay, the character "reveals" why he has "always" used a knife/sword thing. He claims he always uses it because, when he was a child, he tried to save his father by using a gun, but didn't know how to shoot it. Instead he saved him by fighting off a monster with a knife.

Things like this make me yell at the TV.

The end

That's it. Game over.

I'm past my prime and have begun the process of slowly dying.

I found my very first grey hair today.

Oh, the agony.

In with da funk ... er ... the new.

Goals for 2010

1. Audition for something, anything.
2. Take one of the following classes: dance, piano, acting, or voice.
3. Get my passport.
4. Buy (and wear) a dress (I haven't bought a dress in FIVE years. Five!)


5. Gussy up and attend the SF Ballet's Nutcracker (I performed in it 15 years ago. Lordy, I'm old.)

6. Read three books for fun (last year I only managed two, believe it or not).


7. Visit one new place.8. Attend more shindigs (in other words, try not to turn down invitations).


9. Photograph stuff. Lots of stuff.


10. At 11:59 PM on December 31st, feel like this:


P.S. I have a feeling that this year is totally going to top last year. Not that last year was anything less than great. :)

Out with the old ...

Let's see how I did on my "Resolutions, nay, goals for 2009."

1. Ride my exercise bike.
Replaced this with a gym. Good stuff.

2. Go to Chicago.
Missed on this one. I did go to Austin, Portland, San Diego, San Francisco, Montana, and Salt Lake City though. Not bad. It's the most I've traveled in ages.

3. Do a lot of writing.
Yuppers.

4. Play more video games.
I think I outdid myself on this one.

5. Spend more money on myself without feeling guilty.
Done.

6. Open myself up more to love.
Sure.

7. Re-learn French.
Fail.

8. Eat a lot of dim sum.
Yes. I even braved the "dim sum platter" that some place in Montana served. For the record, it was not terrible.

9. Go to more galleries and museums.
Nope. I made it to the Japanese Tea Garden in SF, but I don't think that counts.

10. At 11:59pm on December 31st, feel very, very happy.
Well, at 11:59 pm on December 31st, I was driving in an icy canyon during a snowstorm. I think I was annoyed, more than happy.

I get a 6/10. That's a big, fat D-. Better than failing, I suppose.

Guess I'll just have to try harder this year. :)

(Not that last year was bad. It was mostly awesome.)

Etiquette v. Efficiency

Well, I resolved the whole, "I WANT MORE HELP FROM MY BOYFRIEND!" thing. I stopped hinting at wanting help while feeling like a nag, and instead created a list of items I wanted him to take care of.

Initially, being this direct made me feel like a raging, demanding mo-fo. I'm not sure if it's a cultural thing, but asking for help seems rude. (On my end, at least. I still like helping other people.)

But magically, in a matter of three hours, 90% of the stuff I wanted done was done.

Watching my to-do list clear up makes me happy. In my heart.

Secret Tunnels

On one hand, it's incredibly awesome to wake up and find your puppy dog burrowing under the covers to snuggle with you.

On the other, knowing that you could roll over in your sleep and either a) suffocate her or b) startle her into biting you kinda sucks.

But really, burrowing is way cute. Way. Well, after you get over the whole "ZOMG THE BOOGEY MAN IS AFTER MEEEEE ... oh, it's just you," feeling.

Conversely

I freaking love this time of year, even with the stress.

I love the music, I love the pretty bows-n-paper, I love the lights, I love the ornaments, I love sparkling blue-tinged snow at dusk, I love Scrooged & The Disney Christmas Carol (the one with Mickey Mouse), I love spending time with dear friends and family, I love freakish amounts of food (an artery clogging good time), I love driving around looking at other people's decorations while drinking hot chocolate, I love planning gifts for people ...

It's all kinds of awesome.

I just wish I had more time to really relish each and every moment. I would spend weeks preparing it all, if I could.

A smidge overwhelmed

I really need to find a way to coerce ... er ... trick ... er ... convince my boyfriend to help out with winter holiday stuff. So far, I've hung lights, put up decorations, ordered and wrapped a zillion gifts, designed a Christmas card photo insert and printed out addressed envelopes. He has ... uh ... he definitely looked at the photo insert. After I asked. And he ordered a couple of presents online. Which I'll probably wrap. Oh, and he came with me to grab fun Christmas food at Trader Joes and Costco.

I still need to write in, stuff, stamp, and send the cards. Wrap more gifts. Burn and wrap the annual holiday CD. Organize like the Dickens for our impending two week trip. Etc.

His contributions are all helpful and appreciated, but I can't help but want a little more assistance. I mean, I'm working 5 billion jobs and I feel like my personal to-do list is just growing and growing and growing ...

Mostly I just wish I didn't have to initiate it all. It feels like any failure on my part to make a concerted effort to make Christmas happen will result in my most favorite-est of holiday seasons passing me by. Thank goodness I'm going up to my parents' place, so I can sit back and enjoy other peoples' holiday efforts for a little while.

Of course, no one is making me do extra work for the holidays. I just really, really enjoy getting cards and looking at purdy decorations. I figure I should put some effort into making this time of year nice for other people too.

I'm rubber, you're glue

I don't do well when I'm startled. If someone says something horrible in my presence, I usually have no idea how to react. I get flustered and stay silent. Or act like it's okay.

I'm not sure if Los Angeles is making me an angrier person, but I'm getting better in these situations. Every time something cruddy happens to me, I take note of it. I digest the information, let the incident marinate awhile, and come up with a "what I should have done" plan. This makes me better prepared to handle whatever else comes my way.

Speaking of which ...

My trip to Montana last December went fantastically well. I found purpose in life (weird, seeing as I should have been in a food coma) and had a great time hanging out with my family and friends.

Unfortunately, an obnoxious child kicked my good spirits in the nuts.

Browsing the aisles of some chain store in a sterile mall, a 5 year-old turned to her mother, pointed at me, and said, "That lady is UGLY!"*

First of all, holy self-esteem killer! Second, what kind of mother doesn't apologize when that happens?! Third, GAAAAAAAAH!

I wish I'd said something. I didn't. I stayed silent, not sure that what I thought had happened had *actually* happened.

This year, I am prepared for naughty child antics. My response will be:

"Santa is a lie."

*Unlike the demon-spawn and her family members, I have dark brown hair and light olive skin. They were rather Arian. I assume this was her issue with my appearance. I have just enough self-esteem to know I'm not a hideous beast. I think.

Cheeto burrito

Gratuitous doggy pics:

Birthday/Anniversary Weekend Round Up

Brace for rambling. After that: photos.

My weekend turned out infinitely better than expected (no offense, Mr. Boyfriend-O-Mine).

After a lot of worrying on my part (and nagging about making sure Cheeto and Little One were taken care of), my boyfriend picked me up from work on Friday. The kick-buttiness commenced. First we dropped off Cheeto at her old foster mom's house (she's a celebrity dog trainer, apparently, but gives a nice boarding discount to rescue animals). Next we picked up delish Earl Grey tea bobas and pot roast sammiches from the Urth Caffe (you're probably going to notice an eating theme here, btw). Then Mr. Boyfriend-O-Mine asked me to enter our destination into my phone's navigator application.

Our surprise destination: "Cat's Favorite Beach.*" Nicely done, Mr. Boyfriend-O-Mine.

We left early enough in the day to enjoy the sights on our way up to the Bay Area. Traffic moved along nicely, though we passed two separate cars whose engines had caught on fire. Not just smoking fire, actual flame fire. Scary. Unfortunately I wasn't able to get my camera in time.

That camera comment sounds callous, upon second reading. The people in the cars were fine. For the record.

Anyway, we ate dinner at a favorite burrito place in my old neighborhood in San Francisco, stopped in at a Safeway to grab an It's It (which I hadn't had for over 10 years - just as amazing as I remembered) and arrived at the beach at about 10 that evening. I hopped out of the car to find he'd rented a cabin, complete with a fireplace and kitchen. Awesome.

What made this all extra sweet was the fact that I practically grew up at this beach. My family and I spent weeks upon weeks staying in a family friend's beach house. In other words: my boyfriend not only listened to what I had said about these fond memories - he actually remembered. (He's a keeper.)

Morning one involved a breakfast of biscuits & gravy, potatoes and eggs. AND a mocha with whipped cream. Mmm. Then we went for a long walk on the beach, unfortunately spotted a rotting seal carcass being consumed by turkey vultures (sad!), then got caught up in the tide. We retreated back to the cabin just in time for lunch. Yes, lunch. Breakfast was heavy, but I made a point of not eating all of it. Anyhoo, I indulged in a free-range organic beef burger from my old favorite burger stand, a couple of fries and a half and half soft-serve ice cream cone. Heaven. And yes, all diets are off on birthday weekends. Besides, winter is upon us. I need to prepare to hibernate.

Post lunch, we wandered around the tiny beach town and hit up my old haunts - the charming bookstore whose owner hand picks each and every book (I found a coloring book that I remembered filling in as a kiddo) and a supermarket with a surprising array of organic and other nummy foods. Then we went on a drive past a lagoon (gooorgeous AND there were lots of cute duckies) and ventured into a rather secretive smaller beach community. Also gorgeous with enormous trees and lots and lots of green foliage all around.

Next we drove back into San Francisco, wandered around the Palace of Fine Arts, then hunted for Manchurian beef (not the same as Mongolian. Apparently it's a NorCal thing).

Sunday we had brunch at the same restaurant we ate breakfast in the day before. I think I had soup, but it was overshadowed by a really awesome smoothie and a cute dog inhabiting the doorway of the restaurant. We then took a looooong walk on the beach, showered and primped for socializing, and drove to Vallejo to chill with my super awesome cousin. Post chillin', we wen't out with a few other super awesome cousins (and one's super awesome girlfriend) for Chinese food. Post-Chinese food, we went to a super awesome cousin's house and hung out with their super adorable Corgi/Jack Russel mix. Which reminded me of Cheeto, but I made sure I didn't focus on missing her for too long.

* Cat's favorite beach = this place:


Found at my fav. burrito place:


Japanese tea garden goodness:





These guys reminded me of this. "They see me roll on, my Segway, I know in my heart they think I'm white n' nerdy!" Thanks, Weird Al.


Pretty drive near the ocean:
Palace of Fine Arts:


Mmmudpie:
Beach:


More Japanese Tea Garden:


It's them!
More Beach:
Cool cousin and cute puplet:
Additional Japanese Tea Garden:
Biscuits-n-Gravy: