Sunday 17 October 2010

Dogs vs Babies

      I was at work a few weeks ago and decided to take a walk around the mall. It is an outdoor mall with a wide 'avenue' in between the shop facades. I stopped to grab my afternoon pick me up coffee and walked outside.
      I was greeted by an unusual scene. A tiny dog in a pink sweater was in a doggie 'perambulator'. A perambulator is a stroller and it is one of my favorite British words. This dog was strapped in to its perambulator but was still able to sit. It's owner was feeding the dog bits of its sandwich, as the dog was at the exact same level as the humans at this table. It was quite amusing and the dog in question was one of the more pathetic excuses for a dog I have ever seen.
        I walked on and came across another perambulator. Only this one was not moving. This stroller could not move any further because the 'Mum' pushing it had maxed out her child leash. Her child was on a leash and was sitting in the middle of the avenue and she could not move any further. She kept begging her child to, 'Get Up Dahling. Honestly. Please Get Up!'
       This has to have been one of the more ironic events I have witnessed thus far in  the mall. What is the world coming to I wonder sometimes...Babies on leashes, dogs in strollers. WTF?

Monday 11 October 2010

The Beauty of Sweat

           I had a terrible day today. So I fixed it in the one way I know how: SWEAT. That's right, sticky, sweet, and salty sweat. Exercise has been a huge constant in my life for years now. I failed as a PA sub today and though most of this failure has little to do with me - insufficient training and then the frequent display of horrible communication skills by my boss were the chief factors. I had to put up with yet another day of groans and sighs. I got home knowing the only solution was to work it out. Here is how I feel when I am working out.
           I jump on the treadmill-excited to pound out my 'problems' on the 'pavement' and gain some perspective on life. I set my speed, fix my gaze, and run. I prefer running outside but being so far north prohibits this in the interest of my safety. So, the treadmill will do just fine. After a few minutes I feel the sweat begin to perk up across my brow. My heart beats steadily, quickly, and strongly in my chest. I think, "Yes, Helen, exercise that ticker." I imagine my whole body getting pumped full of blood and oxygen. My breath becomes quicker and with every step that breath becomes more important to manage. The sweat spreads from my brow, to my temples, to my neck, to my chest, my armpits and so on. I imagine that with every droplet I am expelling something toxic from my body. I envision a negative in each little bead bursting forth and leaving me only with the good.
            There goes the worries about the sexist boss. There go his sighs. There goes his passive aggressive groans. There goes his slight yell. And another one. And another one. Poof! There goes his terse goodbye. Gone is the servant feeling I get while sending out conference call notices to the guy that started two days after me-who because he is a boy is still included on those calls-while I have been reduced to the one who invites him. Quicker and quicker these worries fall away.
             I give a picture to each breath in. Only the positive images are invited and allowed to come into me. A cheesy photo montage of all these beautiful moments of my life fill me: skiing in Colorado surrounded by the intelligent and spunky women of my sorority, downing pints in a pub with live music in Scotland catching up with Helga, my sister (at 17) still climbing into bed with me when I am home with a stack of our favorite childhood books to read aloud in the same old accents and falling asleep holding hands, sitting on my porch overlooking the river with Corrigan with nothing but our faces showing outside of our sleeping bags laughing and watching the stars as we got to know each other. I see myself cruising around in Chile making new friends and drinking Malbecs. I think of the Colorado mountains I got to now so well and the strength and confidence that they and the girls of my summer camp gave me. I smile when I think about the time my brother and I drove Houston to Santa Fe in one day and were so delirious at the end that we rocked out to Green Day Dookie-yeah we still know every word. I think of myself skiing fast down the side of a mountain and the power coming from my large thighs that carries me through each turn.
               Speaking of my legs-they are burning now. I glance down at them, making sure I am well-aligned on the treadmill. While I would like them to be smaller at times, I have to love them for all the miles and adventures they have seen me through. 25 mile hikes in the Gallatin Range of Montana, the one road in Walla Walla, WA that saw me through my freshman and sophomore anxiety ridden years of college, the loop in Houston where I planned how university was going to be. My arms have found their rhythm. They churn back and forth and with that movement I am taken to another paradise I found. I can hear the cicadas in the background now, I hear my paddle cut through the clear blue water of the Mediterranean, staring at the perfect Greek house I am whizzing by. I feel the sun on my body, drying the salt from the sea and my sweat. Yes, I remember that! That perfect feeling of contentment and my fear and awe at the tremendous ocean currents-the first time I truly recognized the intense power of the ocean. Currents...I remember those!
               I remember almost every ebb on the Gallatin River-my stomping grounds for the past few summers. The images and my breath come faster now! A face for every third step, a funny memory for the first, and a scene for the second. Jaye, trout, hiking on my b-day, Poppy (my Dad), beer pong with the rental team, Cinny (my first dog), Katherine, a long Sunday lunch with my Chilean host family, the baby mountain goat I almost touched on my birthday, Sacha, Dundee and Mellie (my family's dogs), Gallatin Peak, Mt. Wilson, fishing with Pat, and so on and so forth.
              I feel myself coming back. I am powerful. I am confident. I am strong, so strong-watch me go! Faster and faster and faster. Keep Going Helen! Push it! My leg muscles are screaming, my heart racing, my shirt is soaked in sweat. I run it out 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Done.

            I am a truly blessed person. And a bad day at work and a lame boss is nothing I can't handle. I wipe my face and smile. I feel humbled, yet invincible with  the love and memories of so many people, so many miles, so many towns, to fill me up during my runs and expel the negatives from my life.

It was a fine day after all.

            
          

Friday 24 September 2010

Here's Some Bagels, Here's my numba


Never Have I Ever Had a One Night Stand
            Well shoot, after my weekend in Edinburgh I will now have to drink and be more likely to lose at this game. At least I have a wonderful, hilarious, epic disaster of a story to share. Oh well, it has been hard to be so good and such a prude for so long and I guess between the booze and the welsh accent my inner liger was once again unleashed.
            In essence being a liger consists of knowing what one wants, as in boys. My college pal and I called each other liger and I still use this term. We would joke about isolating our potential target from the pack. Then we would pounce. Being younger and in college this aggressive tactic never failed. All we would do is make out and what guy turns down a make-out sesh with a girl? My point exactly. This liger has not been unleashed for about 3 years so there was a lot of making out-oops I mean making up to do.
            My amazing and wonderful pal Helga came to Scotland with her parents. Her Dad was attending a conference in Glasgow. I worked my ass off to have everything done for my job and jumped on the train for Edinburgh at 1 pm and continued to perfect everything for work. I found Helga at the train station and her parents dropped us off at our hostel. We stayed in a 38 person bunk room-classy. We then all went out to dinner and Helga’s parents drove back to Glasgow to leave Helga and I to have some fun.
            We went back to the hostel, found the cool places to go and hit the town. But, of course girl talk came to the rescue and we behaved ourselves. We got lost (typical) and then found in a pub with a guy and his guitar doing great covers. Helga and I caught up on all the important things in life. We spent a lot of time discussing relationships as we are both single for the first time in a while. We then found another pub with more nice live music. I attempted to make eyes at the drummer but to no avail.
            On the way home we stopped at Dario’s-an Italian restaurant open until god knows when. We had a pizza and a bottle of wine. We made some new drunk ‘mates’ briefly. We then went back to our bunks and hit the hay.
            Next we hit up the Edinburgh castle. It was gorgeous. Ok, onto the good stuff. We returned to our hostel and then went to dinner. We decided to dine at the Pizza Express on our block. However, we would have to wait 30 minutes. Clearly, the only option at this point was to go kill a bottle of wine while we prepared for our big evening out. We were looking fine and stopped to have a 2-pound vodka tonic on our way to dinner. At dinner we were talked into another bottle of wine by our cute waiter and down it went. We tumbled out into the streets with full bellies ready to ‘find our balls’ and pounce on cute blokes.
            We went to one pub. It was boring so we downed our vodka tonics and carried on. We stopped at another boring pub, swigged on another vodka soda. We then ended up close to the fun pub we had been at the night before (Maggie Dickinson’s?), but we’re thirsty-another vodka soda went down. We arrived at Maggie’s in fine form as you can imagine. We immediately started dancing to Tonight’s Gonna Be a Good Night. This was the beginning of the end-or maybe it was another vodka tonic and a corona provided by our new found Irish friends.
            Helga and I proceeded to make a drunken spectacle of ourselves. I made out with some Norwegian/Spaniard or something. I don’t know. He spoke Italian and had on a blue shirt and a small gold necklace. He had nice teeth. I lost interest quickly and proceeded to dance some more. I found another cute boy on my way out. I tried to get him to dance but he did not want to (or want to be seen with me?). I think I kissed him too, but things started to get fuzzy here. Helga and I exited Maggie’s (and my botched targets) when it closed down. I found a cute dog who quickly became my new bff. We somehow stumbled up the hill to the clubs. I remember being turned away from one club because I was ‘too drunk’. I remember telling Helga, who was chatting with our Irish friends, that I was not allowed in a club. Somehow we made it into another club. I don’t remember what happened next besides dancing and then snogging with some very cute boy in jeans and a button down-against a pillar in the dance floor because that is what a classy broad like me does. We kissed and danced, danced and kissed for a long time. I started to sober up, thank God, and remember seeing Helga and another boy laughing at me and my new guy. Then they started to make out. Then we found ourselves getting kicked out of the club. While boy and I were kissing again a guard shoved us off the dance floor and said in his Scottish accent, “Yu can find better places to do that.”
            We tried to find a cab. I finally asked the cute boy, now not letting go of my hand and kissing it (so presh), if I could ask him an awkward question. He replied, “Yes”. So I asked this lad what his name was-we will say Colin to keep my secrets. We drunkenly wandered the streets looking for a cab. I was freezing at this point as I had left my dear cousin Emily’s sexy jacket in the club. Colin leant me his jumper and we continued to hold hands. Helga and her boy were now making out all over the place. When we still could not find a cab I retired to an alley to pee. Note to self: dresses and boots make this action a lot easier! We ended up less than a block away from out hostel, around 4 am. Yet, somehow Helga and I decided that we were going home with these boys, who happened to be roomies as we had found out.
            Falling into the cab I looked over to see Helga and said boy laid out on the cab seat, and then straddling each other. I was so cold and shivering so Colin had yanked me over to his lap and we were getting to know each other a little bit in between kissing. I discovered he was Welsh, liked surfing, and was a banker-rarr.
            Helga and her guy and Colin and I quickly parted ways when we got to their place. And then one thing lead to another and lo and behold-I have now had a one night stand! Some morning loving was also required. We fell back asleep and when I woke up I looked at the boy I was now all snuggled up with (cute I know-he was a cuddler-woohoo). He said it had been a long time, since cuddling or sex I don’t know or care too much. My first thought was, “Thank God he is STILL cute.” He got up to go surfing and was an hour late already. He made me some coffee while I attempted to get myself and my dignity back together. We kissed again and again and again. We chatted some more. He asked me while holding my hands if I had any regrets. I responded, “No”. He seemed like a genuinely nice person, and luckily my wasted radar had found him. Other things that were asked/said by this adorable boy: “How much longer are you in the UK?” and in between kisses, “I guess London is NOT that far away.” Sigh.
            Helga and her guy woke up. It was all incredibly awkward and we all tried to make it as un-awkward as possible. Colin and I chatted, Helga chatted, her guy was fairly silent. Colin was restless and wanted to be on his way. We kissed more, Helga and her guy laughed at us and then left us alone. I told Colin I wished I knew my phone number but did not (I blame it on the phone numbers in the UK being so differently ordered). I told him to find me in London or if wanted dinner I was up for it (poor choice but it was so awkward). Was that a sad tone of voice as he watched me walk out the door and murmured, “Bye Helen”? Prolly just wishful thinking.
            Helga and I walked silently to the bus stop, where we both looked at each other. WTF!? What did we do last night? Holy Shit! Where are we? Who are we? Are you kidding me? I think we both wanted to laugh and cry. Helga let on that she did not remember this guy’s name nor how far they had gone in the evening. We got back to the hostel, hungover as fuck. We had done nothing but encourage the slutty stereotype of American Girls, our apologies ‘merica. We took Advil and washed away our sins and booze from the night before. We found nachos. We laughed. We started to feel better. And then I had a ‘brilliant’ idea. I said, “I feel like we should drop off some cookies or something and apologize for our behavior. I really LIKE Colin.” And as the day wore on, it became more apparent that I was CRUSHING hard on this boy. Oh dear. Helga said she thought we got along well, that we were cute in the morning. Basically, that I should go for it. So, what is a girl to do? You only live once-no regrets.
            Upon returning to the hostel I wrote a note. It said, “Hi. I hope you had a great time surfing on this gorgeous day. You asked me this morning if I had any regrets. I did not realize until I walked away that I regretted not getting your phone number. So, here’s mine… Thanks for a great time last night and if you are ever in London give me a call.” We then went to find cookies and instead found cinnamon bagels, which he had confessed his love for that morning. Perfect! We jumped back on the number 12 bus. We somehow managed to find the right stop and their place.
            I thought this was not meant to happen. They lived in a place where one must be buzzed in to get to the apartment doors. Helga had her balls with her and called another neighbor to let us in. I slipped up the stairs and left the bagels and my note on their doormat. We ran out of the building and walked quickly to the bus stop. We waited for our bus, actually in the bus stop. We watched one and then another go by. We then saw someone running. I heard Helga say, “Oh GOD! It’s HIM.”
            Lo and behold, her guy was running. To the bus. Now Helga and her guy (rando or ‘Albert’ as we started calling him had left on very awkward terms. The crush that I had on Colin did not exist for these two. We hid behind our hair and luckily he jumped on the bus immediately. Thank God. Can you imagine? If we had been 15 minutes later we would have surely been standing outside their place while he ran out of their building. Could anything have been more awkward?
            We took the next bus, took a nap, went on a ghost tour, hit up the pubs. I started to get a bit upset at this point. Why had the guy NOT called? Surely he went surfing and his mates told him to find me again-another night of fun- why the hell not? But, no. No call and no text. I told myself that he was tired, had gone surfing, and then had to work (these banking types…). But, sadly I guess he was just not that into me. Oh rejection! It hurts.
            The saddest part of the whole weekend was leaving Helga though. After months of lacking an amazing girlfriend my eyes watered at her going. Who else would I share these ridiculous and defining moments of my life with? It was Helga’s first one night stand also. I miss so much having a good group of girls to call up whenever you want to cause trouble, cry, laugh, watch America’s Next Top Model marathons while snuggling in bed with hangovers, etc. I got on my train feeling sad, lonely, and rejected. I thought to myself, “If only he had called.” I just wanted something from him, besides the fun. It was a sad train back to London and work. It was beautiful though.
            I sighed as my train got in at 10:30. I had turned my phone off. Seeing my screen blank and no flashing red light on the ‘crackberry’ was just breaking my heart. And I have only one or two good girlfriends in London to help me laugh off this weekend’s ridiculous behavior. I turned on my phone and saw that red flashing glimmer of hope. I saw the tilted envelope with the red ‘star’. I figured it was one of my cousins. There was no way it could be Colin. I jumped on the tube (which of course never work on the weekends so one must be creative and resourceful). I decided to just get the rejection over with once and for all and see who had texted me. Lo and behold it was an unknown number. I opened it up to see the following message,
            “Hey Helen, how are you? I had a great time too, it was definitely interesting meeting you girls! I hope you enjoyed the rest of your time in bonnie Scotland? Thanks for the bagels and the letter they really made me smile. Take care. C x”

            I smiled as the escalator took me down to the tube, back to reality. But, what is this reality? A girl can act like a drunken fool and then in one crazy, crazy moment drop off a note and bagels and gain a bit of self-respect back? I NEVER thought I would have been able to pull that one off. But then if I have learned anything I have learned that life is full of surprises and luckily with one of my best friends by my side I grew up a lot this weekend. As did she. Two of the most important things I learned or relearned this weekend were:
            a) A good girlfriend is priceless. Helga is such a good girlfriend she said she remembered thinking, “I should go home. But, it is obvious that Helen will be going home with this guy and there is no way I can let her go and have her wake up who knows where and with who!” She took one for the team and even though it appeared she had some fun along the way, she is amazing. I can’t even find words to express how freaking grateful I was to wake up, realize I had just had my first one night stand, and that one of my best pals was in the bedroom next door. I am lucky to have such a pal.
            b) No more one night stands. I am a girl at the end of the day. I apparently get attached and need something emotional. I still don’t know if it was how nice, cute, and caring this guy seemed that made me crush or if it was the need after sex to feel a bond to not feel so bad about my lack of morals. Who knows? I hope I don’t find out the hard way. But, all in all it was a good ending to one’s first one-night stand. And while I say I will never do it again who knows when the liger might go out again…I just hope that Helga is near!

PS-I got my cousin’s jacket back from the club and felt my scruples come back (seeing a drunk girl fall down and seeing her who-ha helped also). I think that some of my amazing cousin was still in that jacket and that was in part why I had so much fun.