As You Wish

My friend, Mamazilla, just tagged me again. Now, she wants me to list the eight most important qualities of my perfect partner. Crap. If I knew that, perhaps I wouldn't still be looking. All the same, it struck me as an interesting idea to write it down.

First, I came up with a list of qualities that immediately attract me to a man, some of which probably don't make good life-long mate material.

1) Rough around the edges
2) Extreme and unpredictable behavior
3) Raw sex appeal
4) Stoic
5) Owns a motorcycle and/or band saw
6) Drives a fast, dangerous car (or a tall ship)
7) Fiercely independent
8) Pirate



Now, as you can imagine, I checked myself a bit. Hmmm... perhaps this is why my relationships fail? Let me see if I can come up with a more appropriate list for a life partner.

1) Honest
2) Kind
3) Communicative
4) Humorous
5) Owns a plant and/or pet
6) Drives a practical, fuel efficient car (or a tall ship)
7) Willing to compromise
8) Pirate



So, it seems that, perhaps, I can have my cake and eat it, too!
Shiver me timbers, I do love cake!

Oh, the Carnage

Recently, climbing at my gym has become less about the difficulty of the grade I'm climbing and more about how many scrapes and bruises I can manage to inflict upon myself before I've finished for the day. Just yesterday, I was climbing a 10d, which is quite challenging for me, and I made it to the top without falling off. However, just as I reached for the last hold, about to enjoy my triumphant arrival at the top, I somehow dragged the back of my exhausted hand across the sandpapery wall. This resulted in two bloody holes just above my knuckles. They were seeping blood by the time my partner lowered me to the gym floor. I washed them off, they kept bleeding, and, because I'm either a total bad-ass or a complete idiot, I figured now would be a good time to attempt to climb the crack.

For those of you who don't climb, the crack is basically a crevice in the wall, into which a climber jams her hands and feet as deeply and possible, hauling herself up using only the friction between her appendages and the concrete or (when outdoors) rocks. It's really quite counterintuitive to shove one's hands into an unknown like that. The space is dark, pointy, and potentially dangerous on so many levels. And yet, yesterday, I jammed my already bloody hands into it. I got a good portion of the way up, too. Whee!

So, I guess what I'm saying is that the people at my job think I regularly get into bar fights.

Humanitarian Stories

Recently, one of my favorite organizations, Doctors Without Borders, published their yearly report on the 10 Most Underreported Humanitarian Stories of 2005. If you're interested in what's going on in the world that's not necessarily being reported by U.S. media, it's an interesting read.

The Game of Assumptions

Today, I was playing the game of Life with a client. He loves this game. I'm always struck by the fact that, in this game, immediately after you choose a career, you hit a stop sign that says "Get Married". It's a requirement; you can't pass it without getting hitched. Soon after that, you hit a stop sign that says "Buy a House". This is also required of each and every player. These are the assumptions of the game of Life.

I have some news for the good people of Hasbro... my life does not mimic Life. I didn't run into any stop sign that forced me to get married. And I do not intend to purchase a house any time soon (unless, of course, those lottery people finally return my phone calls). And, as if it weren't enough that the people of Hasbro cannot fathom a Life in which marriage and owning a residence are optional activities, today, I managed to play the entire game without landing on any Baby Boy or Baby Girl spaces. I was barren. (Hey, just because I'm a game of Life spinster, doesn't mean I don't want to have a baby, you know.)

I have my little revenge on the toy company moguls, though. No matter whom I'm playing the game with, I ask if he/she wants a blue or a pink peg to put in the little plastic car to start. Generally, I get very gender-specific answers. Today, however, my client, a 13-year-old boy, chose to start in his car as a pink peg.

Now that, my friends, is progress.

Six Years

Today marks my sixth year anniversary living in San Francisco. Six years ago today, I rolled into town with my dad driving the U-Haul. I was spunky, and I had a dream.


Unfortunately, it was to spend the rest of my life with this guy.
(Who, incidentally, is not a bad guy, but I discovered over time, just not my type).


When we broke off the engagement, I stayed in San Francisco, where I had already made many friends. I started rock climbing, got my Master's degree, and managed to become a real grown up (who still loves to jump on the bed and eat ice cream straight out of the container).

I believe staying in San Francisco is one of the best decisions I've made, so far. Happy anniversary to me.

New Year's Photos

This year, I spent New Year's Eve at my favorite place with some of my best friends.

The Hangout


The Hangers


The Entertainment, Jesse Foster


Everyone's Favorite Drunken Bartender, Kevin


For more photos, click here.

Vacationing in a Handbasket to Hell

Today at the gym, I saw the latest issue of Conde Nast Traveler. I used to get the magazine, but, several years ago, I opted for National Geographic Traveler, instead. The vacation spots N.G. mentions are not only more adventurous, but less expensive, as well. Today, I was glad I had made the switch.

On the front of this month's Conde Nast Traveler in large gold letters it said: "SURGICAL VACATIONS: How Safe Are They?" And so, I was forced to imagine people who want to go on these Operation Excursions. Yes, please, peel back my face, break my nose, and suck some necessary fluids from me, while I pay you tens of thousands of dollars to watch me suffer! I'm on vacation, so what the hell.

For those of you wondering what to get me for my birthday in a few months... I prefer a hike in the woods or a margarita on the beach, thanks. No sterile gauze bandages needed. Well, unless I take a spill on the trail to Machu Picchu.