Wasn't that a movie? It's also become the bane of my existence; my actual foot that is, not the movie. I somehow managed by simply walking down the hall last night at work to tear my plantar fascia. Not running, not even walking fast, just step, step, pop, OW! Luckily we weren't too busy so off I hobbled to the ER. They didn't know what was going on, but the Dr. was very nice and could see from the swelling that clearly something was not right. So she sent me off home and to a podiatrist I went this morning who handed down the diagnosis. He didn't even need to do an MRI, could tell just by looking and poking and prodding. So I'm off work until next Monday and who knows how long I'm going to be dealing with this. I'm being good though. Keeping it elevated, iced, etc. It so frustrating though! I hate being injured, it makes me cranky! Dammit!

Joe is also on the injured list, his right shoulder. Together we make one, good person. He sees his Dr. later this week to find out what's going on. So keep your fingers crossed for both of us and wish us luck.

Found this little gem, and the results, not suprising....

You scored as Ecclectic Pagan. A veritable blend of all the pantheons and perhaps a dash of a few other religions as well, you're the versitile Ecclectic Pagan. You have no problem wearing an ankh while setting an offering to Herne on your alter just below your image of Hera. You don't believe in coloring within the lines, and are a bright free-thinker. While you respect the views of your fellow pagans, as far as you're concerned, religion is the sky, and there's no one about to clip your wings with lines and limitations. </td> Ecclectic Pagan 90% Egyptian Pantheonic Pagan 85% Roman Pantheonic Pagan 80% Zoroastrian Pagan 70% Greek Pantheonic Pagan 70% Eastern Pagan 55% Celtic Pantheonic Pagan 45% Shamanic Pagan 45% Kabbalistic Pagan 40% Sumerian, Babylonian, and Mesopotamian Pagans 35% Norse Pantheonic Pagan (Asatru) 10% Catholic (Pagan?) 0% What kind of Pagan are you? created with QuizFarm.com

My habitual route to work takes me through downtown Seattle. It's not exactly my favorite, but usually it beats the hell that is I-5 at the evening rush hour around the I-90 and West Seattle Bridge region. I usually end up heading east on Yesler from the waterfront all the way up the hill, ALL the way. If you know the area, 'nuff said. If not, let me give a brief description. This is the region of downtown known as Pioneer Square. It's home to a number of storefronts: art galleries, toy shops, the ubiquitous Starbucks, other retailers and a few nightclubs. A popular (and fun) walking tour on Underground Seattle starts here and you can catch ferries down at the docks. All in all, a popular place, populated by tourists, working class types and the crack-spun, meth-head or just down-and-out homeless. Sometimes my trek through down town is humorous, sometimes entertaining and sometimes just plain frustrating. You see, what I've found is no matter what the apparent intelligence, socio-economic or education level of the pedestrians downtown, for some reason the simple act of crossing a street strips everyone down to the level of low-grade moron, somewhat stupider than the gopher snake I used to have.

Downtown pedestrians habitually ignore the streetlights, signals and crosswalks carefully placed to aid them in their journey. Ok, I've jaywalked myself a time or two, but herein lies the difference, I look both ways, and wait for the coast to be clear. Downtown pedestrians seem to think they can blithely ignore the signals they so cautiously obey while driving when they're out walking and unprotected by their armoring vehicles. I've had to slam on brakes to avoid people who step off the curb because they're so completely enthralled by the screen of their Blackberry that they didn't notice the helpful, red DON'T WALK sign and big red light for the direction they're crossing. Then there's the next level of offender, the challenger, as I like to think of them. They're usually striding along at a good clip, and god forbid they should have to slack their pace simply because they have to cross a street. Oh no, like the Really Important People they are, they'll step right off that curb in full swing, giving me their best forbidding stare when I'm about 2 feet from their position and maybe, to emphasize their point, hold their hand up in a 'Stop' motion. This usually happens when there's a car about 10 feet ahead of me, and at least 3 cars behind me (hey, it was break in traffic, right?). Sometimes it's in the middle of the street, sometimes it's at an intersection when I have the green light. And lastly, there's the homeless. They typically shuffle to midway across the street, and then as I approach them, stop and wait, in my lane, usually with an angry look on their face. Let me be clear here, I don't roar up on them and screech to a halt, I see them from a good ways off and slow down, giving them ample time to finish crossing. Their anger is difficult to fathom. Are they angry because I have a car and they don't? Or because I didn't hit them and thus give them an opportunity to sue my ass off and earn more heroin money. Perhaps their mid-street pause is their way of giving me a chance to strike them, thus equalizing the obvious social inequity between their state and mine.

I guess this really goes back to what's taught as a kid. Anyone remember 'look left, right, left?' In London, they have painted on the crosswalks 'look RIGHT' for us silly Yanks who drive on the wrong side. Hell, even my dog sits and plants his ass when he comes to a curb and waits for the signal to cross. Believe me, it only takes a few more moments to stop, look and maybe wait for the light to be on your side. Try for a little more common sense and you'll get to your destination in one piece. Or am I asking too much these days? I suppose that makes my dog smarter than the average downtown pedestrian. Not surprising.

If you didn't know it before, here's proof positive. Just as in my younger days, I'm up at 2:30 a.m. playing Dungeons and Dragons, this time in a LJ dungeon; The Dungeon of Alfrect. I found it somehow:




What's missing? My adventurer friends of years past, now living (and one dead) scattered up and down the west coast, the ubiquitious cans of soda (Dr. Pepper, their favorite, not mine) and the smoky setting. And, oh yeah, my old character, a kick-ass, lawful evil magic user. She was baaaaaaaad. Although technically, she's still 'alive.' Yes, those same friends still get together and play occasionally, without me, and use my character as an NPC running a school of dark magic. Like I said, baaaaaad. She once killed a party member; oh for very good (?) reasons, but killed him nonetheless.

Oh my gods, I am SUCH a geek!

Joe and I bought a house, and we've moved into it. When I was a kid, I used to think moving was this grand adventure; that's because as a kid, I never moved. My parents still own the house I grew up in. So to make up for it, I've moved 10 times in the last 14 years. You'd think I'd have it down pat by now, but no. This one was by far the most hectic, chaotic and frankly, painful. All our friends with trucks were busy, and up until about 5 days before moving day, I wasn't even sure if Joe was going to be in town. So I hired Starving Students. Two guys and a big truck arrived early morning on Saturday, May 13th, and they did move our stuff without breaking anything. That's the last positive comment I can make. The lead guy was ok and worked hard, but the second was a lazy slacker, who Joe and I both had to direct and prod to work and if we took our eyes off him he would leave stuff that he'd been told take. I even verbally slapped him for making phone calls on my time. So we get (most) of our stuff to the new place and half an hour into unloading I fall and fuck up my foot. Bad. Bad enough that I probably should've had it X-rayed, but I was stubborn and in denial and using my nursing skills to say "I don't think it's broken." I'm still hobbling on it. Soft tissue injuries suck. So I got to sit with my foot propped up and covered in ice for the rest of the day. Now I like to kick it and relax as much as anyone, but when it comes to things like Moving Day, I can be really Type A. So sitting still was sort of like my own personal hell. Especially when I found the movers had just dumped stuff anywhere they liked, paying no attention whatsoever to my careful labelling on the boxes. I made up for it by getting really drunk with friends who came over to see the new place. Silly drunk also meant the foot didn't hurt as much.

Now comes the unpacking. First, a little history. I moved to Seattle from San Diego 4 years ago, downsizing from a 2-bedroom house to renting a couple rooms from my brother and his wife while I was in nursing school. A lot of stuff that I packed in San Diego hasn't seen the light of day. Until now. You see, I'd boxed stuff up, put it into storage and forgot about it. When Joe and I got married and moved in together last year, the house we rented had a basement; again, store the boxes, out of sight, out of mind. Now I'm finding things I haven't seen, needed or used in 4 years. All of which spells YARD SALE. I can't decide if I want to try and accurately price everything, or just say fuck it and have it be a "$2.00 Any Item" sale. I'm thinking the second option is probably going to ensure I get rid of more shit.

I also found a lot of stuff that has sentimental value. It's a good thing I was doing the unpacking alone today, because it sure would've been embarassing trying to explain why I'm crying over an old smelly leash and collar (belonged to my first dog, Pagan, gone for quite some time) pictures of my Zoo animals or the farewell card my co-workers from the Zoo gave me. Funny thing, that card. My boss wrote "hope you find a great man who appreciates smart women" as well as the good luck and have a great new career stuff. Prophetic.

So there's still a ton of sorting and putting away to do, although I did get through a good chunk before sitting down and taking a computer break. Part of me wants to just toss it all out and start fresh. Tempting. All of it, except the sentimental stuff.

Dead Kennedy's anyone? Right about now it's how I feel. Joe and I gave a full 30 day's notice, from the 15th of last month to the 15th of this month. The property owner had a new renter lined up, but then this person backed out. The owner called me a couple days ago and the conversation went like this:

Owner: So your house closes on Monday the 8th, right? And when are you moving again?
Me: On Saturday, the 13th. (Keep in mind, I'd already given her our schedule last week. AND we've paid until the 15th)
Owner: Oh, right. The 13th? (Insert hemming and hawing here) Well, I just wanted to confirm, you know? The 13th? Hmm. Yeah, well our renter's are living in a motel right now...
Me: Well, like I told you, the moving company's going to be here on the 13th.
Owner: Oh, well, okay then.

NOW that the renter's have bailed, the owner's panties are all in a bunch. They have to show the house NOW and rent it NOW. Alright, but I file that under "not my problem." However, I've had 5 calls in the last hour: "Can I show it tomorrow? Well, these people work you know, so they want to see it either Wednesday or Thursday evening." Yeah, I work too, and I work Wednesday and Thursday NIGHT! "What about tonight?" Nope, I'm busy. Working? (said in a sarcastic tone) Not that it's any of your business, but I have plans with friends for tonight. "Well, geez, we just really need these people to see it. When do you leave for work?" Hey, it's WORK, get a clue. I sleep till 5 p.m. get up, shower, eat and leave. Just like you do in the morning, except my schedule starts in the evening. I'm sorry you're in a crisis, but shit, we'll be out in a few more days. Then they're all worried about how the place looks. DUH, we're moving, as in boxes everywhere and shit all in disarray.

FUCK!

Escrow is closed and I got the keys from our real estate agent yesterday! Now, I just have to pack. Joe won't get home until Friday, I told him I was leaving all the electronic equipment for him to deal with, not to mention all his unpacked stuff in the basement. I did make a run yesterday and drop off some stuff, mostly my books. I got almost all 16 (yes, 16) boxes over there. Hey, some women collect shoes, some are clothes-horses, me, I'm a book collector.

When I talked to Joe this morning as he was headed to bed, his comment was, 'Yeah, you pack and I get to sleep. I like that!" Ha!

I think it's really going to happen. We've signed documents and massaged away the cramps in our hands from that ordeal. And I don't use that term lightly. Remember, my husband works away from home; this week he's in Vancouver, WA. Signing therefore involved me going to the escrow office on Tuesday to sign (in Kirkland! Bleeech! Gods save me from the horrors of the Eastside), then taking the documents on a road trip, and having them back in the escrow office this morning. Whew! Our friend and real estate agent, Bill says everything's set, the lender says everything looks good, even the sour-faced escrow agent I signed with smiled and seemed to be in a better mood today when I dropped the paperwork off. The good thing too, about the road trip, was, well, I got to see my husband. Or maybe that should be 'know' as in the biblical sense. Anyway, I'm happier and in a better frame of mind. I have to work the next three nights which will keep my mind off the last mechanics of the closing of real estate deals, and then late Monday afternoon, Joe and I'll be homeowners. Our own place, complete with urinal.

Now I'm off to have dinner with some friends.

I had a minor procedure done to my left foot this morning; I had several layers of skin scraped off the ball of my foot, then 3 (yes 3!!) different types of acid applied. Why? To get rid of something called plantar warts. Never heard of them? They grow inward and they make walking painful. Now the doc warned me that this procedure would hurt a bit, but, hell, I'm tough! I've been attacked by a wolf, by god! I figured I can take it. Well, shit! I have to work tonight and now my foot is screaming like a two-year-old that's had it's candy taken away by a bullying older brother. Shit! In 3 more hours, I have to be on my feet for 12 hours. I've asked for the night off, but I have no guarantees that that's going to happen. Dammit!

I have to put up more Domino pics, I must! My animals are some of my best models.



Took these down at Alki. Here's he's patiently waiting while I take shots of the city and seagulls, which he'd rather be chasing.



But he always has his sense of humor. He always seems to be laughing. He's the happiest dog I've ever known.

Here it is; home sweet home for Joe and I:



I'll put the rest of the pics ( behind here )

All in all, we're happy with it. Soon as I can I'll put up pics of the inside.

This one, I had to take and post. Had to. Since I'm a HUGE Star Wars Geek, well this little quiz just screamed out at me. I'm not entirely happy with the result though; Padme has terrible taste in me, and I don't. I'm more like Leia, fell for the scoundrel with the heart of gold. It seems my results were close enough that it could've gone either way.

Your results:
You are Padme

Padme 78% Princess Leia 75% Qui-Gon Jinn 72% Obi-Wan Kenobi 69% R2-D2 62% Han Solo 61% Yoda 60% Luke Skywalker 56% Mace Windu 56% Chewbacca 53%

You try to be a good person, but your boyfriend doesn't. At least you look great.

(This list displays the top 10 results out of a possible 21 characters)


Click here to take the Star Wars Personality Test


BTW, this'll likely be a double post night, I've got new house pics to show off.

Joe and I have been looking to buy a house since March and after two disappointments, we found our new home! The first place we found was big (5BR, 3 full baths), new (built in 2002) had a big yard and well, was terrific. Until we had the inspection done, when it was discovered the foundation had cracked and was sinking around the entire basement! The entire square of the basement floor had broken loose from the footings and sunk as much as 2 inches in some places. Shit. That's why you have inspections. We backed out of the sale and got our earnest money back and kept looking. Going from the brand new to extremely old, I found a place built in 1919. The upstairs was about 1200 square feet and completely redone in 2001. Completely. Redone. Everything brand new and shiny, this place was even better than the first. Better neighbor hood, better yard, a view and a basement with square footage to match the top. The basement was unfinished, but could easily be finished and a stair dropped from inside the house, no problem; instant doubling of our square footage and instant equity. We wrote up a strong offer, Joe had to agree to buy it sight unseen since he was out of town, even waived the inspection (our friend, a contractor did a pre-inspection for us) but lost it in a bidding war by about $5000. Shit again.

However, as they say, the third time's the charm. After a few depressing days of looking at places neither of us would want to live in (too small, too ugly, scary neighborhoods) and dragging poor Joe out during the day, depriving him of sleep we finally found a place. Built in 1928, it's about 2100 square feet and has a lot that's 8800 square feet. Huzzah, lots of space! The inspection, thankfully, found nothing too scary, such as sinking foundations, and everything that could've been an issue the seller agreed to fix. According to the inspector, someone spent a 'ton of money' upgrading the systems in the house. The plumbing is all abs plastic, and while there is still some knob and tube wiring, it's in good repair and plenty of new, modern wiring has been installed to carry a modern load as well as a good panel. It's biggest downfall is that the bedrooms have no closets. Weird, I know; back then they used armoires and dressers, so I guess so can we. However, it's got plenty of space otherwise, 3 BR and 2 full baths. The upstairs bath is quite clearly the men's room as it has a urinal. Yes, you read that right, a urinal. Joe loves it.

I'll be posting pictures soon, stay tuned.

Our first wedding anniversary was March 22. I had to work (7 pm to 7 am) and Joe was in Redmond, Oregon. My husband, who had thrown out huge hints before he left town, calls me around 4:30 that afternoon. "Wake up, wake up, and go look outside" He sounds all excited. So I open the door and there, sitting on the deck is this:



Sweet, wonderful man had sent me the biggest, most beautiful bunch of flowers I'd ever seen. He'd even arranged with a friend to deliver them so they'd be there when I got up to go to work, but didn't get woke up by a delivery person. And then I read the card, and I cried (yes, I'm one of those that cries when happy). So we didn't have our first anniversary together, but we'll have all the rest of them. It might sound cliche but it's true: I am truly the luckiest of women.

( More flower pics behind here )

BUTTERFLY - Your daemon may be a butterfly. It is

ironic that the butterfly traditionally

represents the psyche, yet it is one of the

least emotive physical forms that your daemon

can take. It is very hard to tell what a

butterfly is feeling, and perhaps that is why

you feel so comfortable with this form. You

have many, many friends and a beautiful soul,

but you don't like to reveal what your

innermost feelings are. You aren't afraid to

be yourself - you are vibrant and colourful.

But at the same time, you don't like to wear

your heart on your sleeve.


What Is Your Daemon?
brought to you by Quizilla

A cool little quiz I stole from somewhere. I get on these kicks sometimes. Funny that this one turned out to be fairly accurate. :-)

Which Deadly Sin Is Yours? Lust You crave the pleasures of the body. Your lustful desires make you crave more of what you know is good. Find out your Deadly Sin at Quizopolis.com

Ok, so I stole it from a forum I belong to. Still funny, and well, appropriate. Try it for yourself and see:

http://www.quizopolis.com/deadly_sins_quiz.php

And now, after a long night, I'm off to bed.

I was getting ready for work last night, and the charge nurse called and offered me the night off. This often happens when more nurses are scheduled than they need and/or when we have fewer patients. Me, I'm greedy and I needed the money, so I said, Nope, I'd rather come in and work. Well, talk about night from hell! Busy, busy, busy all night long. I never got a break, I gulped my lunch down in about five minutes (at 4 a.m.) while frantically writing my charting. It was literally the only time I sat down the entire 12 hour shift; I didn't even get to pee from the time I started my shift until after I'd clocked out at 7:30 this morning. Guess what, the moon is almost at full, technically it's 94% full tonight and I have to work again, tonight. Damn, I think I'm glad I'll be off Saturday and Sunday when the full moon hits it's fully power.

My lesson for the night: Don't be greedy. If someone offers you the night off, TAKE IT!

I don't hate people. You can't deal with sick people and their worried families if you do. One thing I've learned is that it's not that hard to be nice, or at least courteous. Really. Try it sometime and you'll see. Why is it then, that there are so many mean-spirited, unhappy, spiteful, discourteous people populating this city? And it's not just Seattle. What I hate is poor attitude, lack of common courtesy and this disgusting entitlement complex that many people seem to have acquired.

Here's a little history; it may border TMI for some, so skip or read as you choose. It's "that time" during the month; I had a truly astonishing migraine a few days ago, I just finished my workweek and I was looking for some comfort food. During "that time" all I want is cheeseburgers and chocolate. Lucky for me these cravings only hit once a month! So off I go on my quest.

I walk into the store for my chocolate, it's right at the front, I should be able walk in, maybe wait behind someone, slap down my money and go. Well, I do have to wait in line, oh well, no big deal. There's one man in front of me but he takes 10 MINUTES to buy batteries, some beer and cigarettes. Why? Because he makes 3 separate transactions!
Guy: Um, I need to pay for those batteries separately, okay? Yeah, just, um, just ring them up first. Yeah, thanks.
Insert clinking of cash register and silence, transaction #1.
Guy: Okay, okay, no I don't need a bag, just put them in here. Yeah, yeah, now the beer.
More cash register noises and silent humans. Transaction #2 is now finished and Guy starts craning his neck and scanning the cigarettes behind the register. He walks the length of the counter, then:
Guy: You don't have brand X, huh? Damn. Um, how about brand Y? Yeah, yeah, okay. Um, damn. Well, I guess I'll take one...no, no two packs. Yeah.
This my friends was transaction #3. And I'm thinking, WTF???? Are you such a control freak that you have to give the exact change to whomever it was gave you the fiver for that pack of batteries? Or are you just a cheapskate and can't spring the $0.99 for a pack of AA's for a friend. Jeeebus freaking Christ just pay for everything at once. And how slow are your thought processes that you didn't know you wanted the cigarettes when you were paying for the batteries. You couidn't mention it then and pay for it with the beer? Maybe he was coming down off a 5 day tweaker bender and couldn't force his mental faculties to work faster than a slow twitch. During the time I'm standing waiting for this mental gymnast to make his decisions the line behind me has grown, from 1 to 5 people. Another employee standing behind the counter shuffling papers from one pile to another occasionally glances up, scans the line then goes back to his rearranging of papers from one stack to another. The girl who's helping battery/18-pack/cigarette guy looks over, then announces over the PA that she needs some help. Paper Stacker realizes that he may actually have to ring up a sale; he stalks over to a register, saying with a notable dearth of enthusiasm: "I can help the next person." Salvation.

I escape with my choco-fix and hit the drive-thru. The ant-like workers in this establishment exhibit the same astonishing lack of anything even remotely resembling common courtesy. Again, WTF? I realize flipping burgers isn't exactly scintillating or stimulating employment, but come on; use it, learn from it and move on to better things. Neither of the prime examples of customer service who helped me made eye contact, or smiled. In fact one of them was completely silent, leading me to wonder at first if perhaps she was mute. I was swiftly disabused of this notion however when I made a request; she was capable of at least grunting and rolling her eyes as she complied. Which lead me to wonder if someone had cut out her tongue and all she could produce at this point was grunting and sarcasm.

At this point, I'd like to say to all the gum-smacking, eye-rolling, holier-than-thou, sullen, sarcastic people who think their life just sucks because they work in retail, and mommy and daddy won't pay all their bills, and their boyfriend, like OMG kissed their best friend and like what do they do now, who can buy Ipods and Xboxes and big label clothing but can't pay their rent or feed their kids, (I guess you get the picture here) and want to pass on their own personal miseries to everyone else they encounter. To them I say: suck it up, you stinking whiners! Make better choices, learn from your bad ones, move on and most importantly, don't make the same bad choices over and over again. Christ on a whole wheat cracker, it's not my fault your life sucks, but out of the goodness of my heart, I'll pass on these little tidbits of wisdom I've managed to pick up. Are you ready, it's not really earth-shattering, but...well, here:

Smile more, it's easier than you think. Say 'please' 'thank you' and 'you're welcome' and when you do, be sincere. Common courtesy goes a long way. Spend a little time thinking about and planning for tomorrow, try and move beyond the instant gratification outlook. This is one that most people generally dislike; you have to actually work for a living. No one is going to just hand you wads of cash so you can live like rockstar with no effort whatsoever. And even rockstars work, really. Belive me, I know this as firsthand fact and even the most glamorous, fantastic fantasy job is going to have it's down days, again this is something I know for a fact, firsthand. Another fact of life; you're going to have to work shitty jobs to move up, and you'll never move up if you have shitty attitude about it. Deal with it. I'd also like to know who told you that life was going to be perfect bliss 24/7/365? Here's the awful truth: they lied, it's not. Again, suck it up, deal with it, learn from it, let it go and move on. If your problems loom so terrifyingly huge that you can't see your way around them, well, in the name of all the gods above and below, get yourself some help. There are scads of programs out there, free ones even. Don't believe this particular lie: "God never puts more on your plate than you can handle." LIE. Life can heap fresh, fragrant, steaming piles upon your plate and then add more by the bulldozer full. Swallow your pride and ask for help. Believe me again, it's out there if you make a sincere effort.

So you, my friends get to hear about my experiences. Thank you for bearing with me. Feel free to comment if you like.

then I'll just post them here. Talked to Joe today and found he can't follow the embedded link to my pics either. So, here's a few:









And just for you honey,

www.flickr.com

Well, I'm trying a new photo-hosting site, so we'll see how long it lasts. I was down at Alki during the sunset and got some amazing shots. Too bad I'm still amazingly sloooow at photoshopping, uploading and arranging them. Here's a few. I like 'em, but they're not my favorites from this outing. And of course, a picture of my Magic. She's in a lot of my pics, mostly because she's so darn in-my-face all the time.