The Socks

Before Petaluma, Grammy lived in Sea Ranch in the far northern California coast. While living there, she worked as a massage therapist a couple days a week and spent the rest of her time volunteering at "Pay 'n Take" - a salvation army-esque establishment where people drop off crap they don't want anymore and then strangers come and pay less than a dollar for it. While working there, Grammy adopted every product that passed through the door that may ever have any use for any person. Some people might call this a hoarder. She owns no clothing she has purchased - it is all used from Pay 'n Take.

When I first started working at the winery, I needed new socks to wear with my hiking boots so I ordered some online. When they arrived, Grammy pointed out that she has LOTS of socks from Pay 'n Take and insisted on giving me a pair. I'm totally disgusted by the idea of wearing a stranger's socks. It's like underwear - you just want your own. Grammy wouldn't take them back and insisted I just hang on to them at least so I threw them into the bottom of my sock drawer.

I am completely neurotic about having things I don't need. These socks really bothered me. They popped up to the top of my drawer whenever I needed a pair and obscured my view of the rest of my socks. They were gross, they looked really dirty, and I wanted them out. So, I threw one away on the off chance that Grammy ask why her socks are in the trash. The other sock somehow ended up partially in my backpack while going home one weekend or something, because I found it in my car between the passenger seat and the door. When I noticed it, I was somewhere without a trash can or something and left it there.

Weeks later, I was taking Daisy somewhere and Grammy followed us out to the car. When I opened it to put whatever I was carrying into the front seat, the sock was there staring at us. It didn't even occur to me that Grammy had given me the sock - and she pointed at it and asked "You know where I found that other sock?." Long pause paired with a completely oblivious look. "In the trash can."

So I said "Oh, I think I was sure I had lost it's pair because I didn't know it was here and so I threw it out."

A few days go by and she brings me the grey sock (not the one from my car) and says "Here, do you know where I found this? I found it in the trash. Not the kitchen trash but the trash outside."

"Huh. Weird"

Ok, so let's recap here - she forced me to take a pair of used socks that she got for free. Then, she DUG THROUGH THE TRASH. I think this is the most disturbing part of this story. That is what homeless people do. Then she took out something from the trash, washed it, and now expects me to wear it on my feet. Then she completely forgot that she had already had this conversation with me, because with most things, Grammy struggles to remember what happened. However, the one thing she can actually track and remember and follow through on and is digging through the trash for a used sock and washing it and keeping it, unaware that it's pair even existed.

My Kwanzaa

Here's how Daisy and I spent our December 26th. I'm gonna miss her a ton while I'm in Australia - so all of you Bay Area folk: if you're ever driving through Petaluma you should swing by Grammy's and make sure they're both still doing all right.

Jitters

I leave for Australia in two weeks and I'm starting to get a little bit nervous since I'm going to be essentially in the middle of nowhere surrounded by people I have either never met or only met during a brief interview in a foreign (luckily, english-speaking) country.

While studying abroad in Spain a few years ago, I had a great time but missed out on a lot of aspects of American life/culture (see: Tila Tequila). I was also abroad with other UC students who were all my age and in the same boat. Very little was expected of me. I'm now going to be expected to do work and will be the sole Californian probably in the Yarra Valley.

However, Joe Cocker and INXS are going to be performing at the winery where I am working, so worst-case scenario I get to see some music played by some people who used to be famous!

I'm also very nervous about leaving Daisy with my grandmother un-supervised since recently the dog seems to be incapable of convincing Grammy to let her out so she can go to the bathroom. Additionally, I told Grammy to assert herself as the alpha - if she says "come" and is ignored, she is supposed to grab the dog and bring her over to where she initially made the command. Instead, this happens:

Grammy: Daisy, come.
Daisy: (stares blankly - doesn't move)
Me: Now go grab her. Assert yourself as the alpha.
Grammy: Daisy, look! (holds up treat)
Daisy: (perks up - still doesn't move)
Me: Don't reward bad behavior. That is a bribe.
Grammy: (walks over to Daisy, gives her treat, pets her) What a good girl. Best-us puppus.

I'm going to come back to the house after Australia to find it overrun by dogs and Grammy nowhere to be found.

Daisy and the Fly

Foul

I decided to see how long I can go without doing laundry since for some reason I'm jealous of my friends who don't have washers and driers and who end up wearing clothing they hate on laundry day. So, a few weeks in, I decided I should cave since I'm out of clean clothes that I enjoy wearing and on to things that I sleep in regularly, wear when doing activities that may result in my clothes becoming damaged/stained, etc. I also am letting myself get out of exercise since my favorite work out clothes are dirty.

I just finished sorting through my laundry basket and found a bunch of disgusting (still wet) sweat-soaked towels from my Bikram Yoga class at the bottom of my laundry pile. Ew.

Corey Goes To The Beach

One of my friend Mark's friends (Corey) is in California for the week so I've been coming up with stuff for him to see while he's here. I took him and Mark out to Tomales Bay to the Hog Island Oyster Company and then down to Stinson Beach a couple days ago. While we were there, Corey kept challenging me to footraces - claiming he could beat me running backwards while I run forwards. So, here's a mash-up of some of the stuff from that day.

Coming Soon

The Land Down Under

I have officially been offered a job at Rochford Winery in the Yarra Valley outside of Melbourne, Australia and tonight I bought my plane ticket so I'm going! Yay, new adventure time.

Videos!

Here are a couple recent videos. This is the bus of my coworkers from J on our way back from our drinking field trip at Anhueser Busch and a microbrewery in Fairfield (Brew Frog Grog and Grill).

This video is my mom playing balloon volleyball with Sadie. Note how transfixed they both are:

Cafe Dog

I've been taking Daisy with me to the local café every morning to accompany me while I read. I think we have this really adorable companionship going on and like to think that onlookers who see us are jealous of how cute my puppy is and how much spare time I seem to have based on how long I spend in the café on my kindle.

This morning, we were walking to the coffee shop and Daisy started to do this really cute rolling-over and I initially thought it was so adorable I was going to vomit, then I realized she was rolling in another dog's shit.

So, we went to the café and she was being really misbehaved and still had some poop remnants on her ear that I couldn't get off with napkins and after that we had to go home and she needed a bath (obviously) which she hates and so it's been a pretty rocky day.

Tomorrow will be better.

[F]un-employment

As of Friday, I am now unemployed and back in relax-mode for the first time since Spain. As part of my relax-mode, I have to come up with trivial activities for myself to fill up my day and avoid spending the whole day in bed eating donuts and watching reality television. If I give into the donuts to early on in relax-mode, I start to enter depressed-mode and then eventually stop getting out of bed all together.

So, as part of my new schedule, I go to Bikram Yoga every morning (for those of you unfamiliar with Bikram, it is yoga in a sauna with lots of hairy and unattractive people, but it takes a couple hours all together and is one of the least expensive hobbies I could come up with - oh, and I enjoy it). This morning at Bikram, the Yogi (I think that's what they are called) who was leading the class was telling us about how a friend of hers came up with switching around the phrase "Don't just sit there - Do something!" to "Don't just do something - Sit there!" Initially, I assumed that she had just smoked too much pot and there was nothing behind what she was saying, but she briefly explained herself and there's actually some wisdom to that statement.

The idea is that people tend to say harsh things they don't mean or make erroneous decisions when they impulsively react to a situation instead of taking the time to sit and think out what their approach to a given situation will be. I started thinking about how often I have made a neutral situation worse by doing something just for the sake of doing something and decided that my mantra for my unemployment spurt (this one, at least) will be to just sit there rather than doing something just for the sake of having something to do. So, even though I have all these trivial activities lined up, I am only really partaking in things I enjoy (e.g. wine tasting, Bikram, dog training classes with Daisy) rather than doing things just for the sake of filling my day. And I'm trying to perfect my art of not doing something and just sitting there.

Although this is the first week day I have free (and I had a job interview today so I don't know if that even counts as having a free day), it is going very well so far.

Happy Halloween Everybody!

Here's me being a ridiculously embarrassing dog owner, trying to dress my pet up for Halloween.

Video

Since I'm so bad at blogging consistently, I'm going to try to post more videos and make my blog more interactive since I can't get myself to write very often. Here's a video I made while I was home for my birthday. It's my mom telling a story about a blind man they did studies on while Sadie is playing with her toy. Enjoy.

My Sister, Brett, in a Facebook Chat Nutshell

Hey hillary!
its ur sister
Brett
obviously
sry
hi

Grandpa Carl Continued

Oh, and he took at least a quarter of a pound with him for a friend.

Grandpa Carl

When my grandmother graduated high school, she wanted to move out of her parents' house but didn't have enough money for college and didn't have a boyfriend to marry her. So, one of her friends said "Well, I'll marry you." They had never even kissed, but she agreed, and that's how she and my grandfather met (from whom she is currently divorced, and he is remarried to a Japanese woman and living in Thailand). Twice a year, Grandpa Carl comes back to the US and visits a couple of his kids.

Apparently, it's that time of year, and today he came up to Petaluma to visit my grandmother and me and make sure that our life philosophies are creative and healthy and that we are doing well. He had cut off his ponytail since his last visit and has started to grow a beard. Also, he survived bladder cancer and now has an external bladder which he is quick to show off and make jokes about. As in, "I'm a 1938 Carl, and some parts have had to be replaced."

To avoid any legality issues, I'm going to point out that there is emphasis in my blog, and it is partially embellished/fictional.

Last week, Grammy went out to the coast to visit some friends and returned with a pound of marijuana. She has been practically losing sleep wondering how she's going to get rid of it since she doesn't smoke enough to burn through an entire pound, and does not have friends who smoke she can give it away to. Luckily, my grandfather is visiting and she was hoping to pawn some off on him, as they spent their earlier years tripping on acid together and were caught smoking pot in my parents' basement when I was in elementary school during Thanksgiving dinner. My mother was not pleased.

While here, my grandfather sat around the house with us for a couple hours and at one point he and my grandmother were talking about how old they were, and how they are coping with dying. My grandfather even referenced Tuesdays With Morrie, a New York Times bestseller which I have read but mostly write off as cheesy and unrealistic, only interesting because it is one of the only pieces of popular literature that deals with death. It's interesting for me to think that these people have known each other since high school, and have gone through almost an entire life - partially together - and can still sit down and check up on each other even though they are both remarried (or redivorced in Grammy's case).

Grandpa Carl usually crosses a comfort line to some extent, at the dinner table referencing a grandchild's sex life or asking a high school aged family member about which drugs are available to him through his immediate group of friends. Granted, the visit isn't over yet and we still are going to see a movie with my mother tonight, but so far the first portion of this visit was pleasant and thought-provoking and much more comfortable than usual.

One Sick Puppy

Today, I had to give my mom a ride from Petaluma to Novato because she needed to drop a car off at the mechanic. She and I decided to grab lunch beforehand and got a call from Grammy saying that Daisy threw up. My mom told her we would be home in twenty minutes, then immediately hung up the phone and said "God, she's so annoying. How does she have friends?"

After taking my mom to Novato, Daisy threw up again several hours later. Grammy decided she needed to call the free clinic where we get the dog's shots to figure out what is wrong with her. I'm now sitting in my room listening to Grammy have a thirty minute phone call with the clinic receptionist about how Daisy "threw up big."

The Kong

Grammy and I went to Petco today to get Daisy some puppy shampoo since she smells and ended up getting her a new toy. We decided to get her a Kong to combine her two favorite things: food and toys.

Grammy keeps referring to the kong as "the bong." She doesn't realize she's saying the wrong name.

Dogpatch Conclusion

The man who hired me gave Jon Gold $20 for me and said he wanted to give me the full amount but the manager wouldn't let him. So, essentially I got my drinks paid for Saturday night, then got $20 for coming by and not getting anything the next day. Sweet.

The Dogpatch Saloon

This last Saturday, I went to San Francisco with some friends from Davis to go bar hopping. We were staying with Jon Gold who lives by AT&T Park in the Dogpatch, and started the night out at the Dogpatch Saloon, the sole dive bar near his apartment. The bartender was wasted and incapable of doing basic addition (she couldn't add 4 and 10) and seemed unsure about drink prices. We went to a few other bars around the city, but at the end of the night ended up back at the Dogpatch Saloon. There was now a different bartender who seemed more familiar with the bar.

My friends started getting tired and leaving, until just two of us were left in the bar finishing our beers. The bartender and I started chatting and he asked me what I was doing the next day from 4 to 8. I said nothing and he asked if I wanted to come back and tend bar. I agreed, and since I had been drinking was very intent on coming back and tending bar to prove my commitment to this job. I woke up the next morning and remembered that I had agreed to work. My friends left the city and I spent the afternoon shopping downtown to pass time until 4pm.

At 4, I went down to my new job. The man who had hired me was not working but the old African American men greeted me by name when I showed up for work and were insistent that I stick around and meet the owner even though the girl whose shift I was apparently meant to cover had shown up unannounced. They asked me to stick around for 30 minutes, then sent me down into the basement to meet the owner - a man with a large mustache whose office was located amongst tons of normal home basement crap. His main concern wasn't that an employee had essentially hired a drunk girl off the street to come in and work after finding her in the bar around 2am but more that I thought I would be tending bar when he had been looking for more of a cocktail waitress. I know nothing about bartending and the prospect of working at this bar seemed to be quickly disappearing - they seemed interested in someone who could work at least part-time and lived in the city. When asked if I was a bartender elsewhere, I replied, "No, I actually work in the wine industry." As if that explained this entire situation I had gotten myself into. I was asked to speak with the man who hired me the night before via phone to try to fix this mix-up about bartending versus waitressing. He said something along the lines of, "I thought we had discussed your work duties last night - but it's hard to remember because we talked about so much last night. Either way, you deserve to get paid, can you come by tomorrow night between 6 and closing? I'll be working then." Although I live in Petaluma and there is no way I will be in between those hours on a Monday night, I said yes to try to accelerate the process of getting this experience over with. I'm sending Jon Gold in as my representative tonight, and we'll see what happens. To be continued.

Daisy

Grammy and I adopted a puppy this weekend. Her name is Daisy and she's a 3 1/2 month old Lab/Border Collie mix. She's soooo relaxed and really sweet.

Children Are Dumb

When my dad gave me my 2003 Prius, the only thing wrong with it was the remote control only unlocked the backseat and passenger doors, and the driver's door needed to be locked manually. Because I've never had anything stolen from me, and my family left our front door unlocked for most of my life, I just got used to not locking my car. I just kept it completely empty and only locked it in bad neighborhoods.

The other night, someone "broke in" to my unlocked car and moved a sweatshirt from the back seat to on top of the trunk. The only thing they had taken was a broken Powerbook I was about to pay Apple to recycle for me if I couldn't find someone on Craigslist who would take it. They left behind an empty jam jar and a large string of oversized heart beads.

I was driving to work this morning and went to plug my iPhone into the tape adapter. Gone. I drove to work listening to the radio. I have another tape adapter that is broken - WHY didn't they take that one instead of ripping the adapter out of my tape deck? I rummaged through the center console. It seemed surprisingly empty. They also stole my green-armed "Go Ags" wayfarers. Clearly, the thieves were children.

Luckily, they didn't take my Fastrak, my hiking boots, or my tennis racket. And now they're stuck with a broken Powerbook without a charger and I don't have to deal with it anymore.

Children Are Gross

The winery where I work has a "junior internship" program where the children of the owner come and get paid to distract us from work and get shown around. The other day, I was inside an open tank I was washing with the owner's 13 year-old boy. One of the mexicans who works with me came over to talk about beer and we were discussing our love for Budweiser. The 13 year-old started proclaiming his love for Coors and I said I definitely prefer Bud. Then, Jorge walked away and the 13 year-old looked up at be in disbelief (he's only about 4'6") and said, "You don't like Coooors?"

I asked him if he even drinks and he said "Yeah. At parties."

Because I was afraid he was going to ask me to buy him beer, and I would say no and be deemed uncool, I changed the subject.

"So, do you have a girlfriend?"

He smiled.

"Do you?"

"Well, the question is ONE girlfriend..."

"Oh? You have multiple girlfriends?"

"I prefer the term 'hook up buddy' or 'friends with benefits.'"

Pure horror. EWWWWW. This child is my sister's age.

Work!

At the winery, the viticulturist is known for having a very low tolerance for people and refusing to repeat himself. Since I hate stupid people, I can completely sympathize with this and have decided to be on my best, most competent behavior when interacting with him because he kind of reminds me of Christopher Walken but more old-mannish and I am possibly afraid of him.

This morning, he decided he was going to take me along with him to do some vineyard sampling from various vineyards we buy grapes from around the Russian River area. I assumed I would ride shotgun in the truck and kind of smile and nod while he showed me how to pick grapes.

False.

He gave me my own truck, forgot something, and decided to meet me out there. By some miracle, I found the correct vineyard (I have the worst sense of direction ever, only getting worse by my reliance on my GPS - which I had left back at the winery since I didn't see any navigation coming my way). He met me out there, used some profanity - which always makes me uncomfortable because I feel like I've done something wrong, for example:

John (aka the viticulturist): Usually we have buckets out here but there's all this shit that Martin left out here. I don't know what it's doing there.
Me: - Silence, while holding back the urge to apologize profusely for the macro bins that are sitting outside because I washed them all last week.-

He needed to back to the winery again and told me to meet him at the next winery, even farther away from the first. I managed to find a map in the car but could not match any of the street names with where I needed to be nor where I currently was. I started driving aimlessly, and eventually found it. When I got out there, he showed me how to crush up grapes in a bucket using this semi-phallic stick that you have to basically hold at crotch level while swiveling it around and putting all your weight on it.

I'm going big places in the wine industry. Luckily, since I managed to find both vineyards and am adapting to the profanity (since everyone else seems to swear a lot, too), John and I are getting along just fine and he doesn't seem annoyed with me.

Our Dreamy German Tour Guide

I just got this facebook message from the dreamy tour guide we had in Germany:

btw if i had have no girlfriend i would have definitely make out with you :-D

More Service Person Joy

This morning I dropped my 2003 Prius (that I'm getting rid of the instant I get married) off at the Toyota dealership for its much overdue major service. The dealership folk decided to give me a Honda Civic for the day while they do god-knows-what to my car, which came with a new service person to explain how to operate the car - you know, because I've never driven a car before.

After explaining to me how to "control the temperature in the cabin," the service man escorted me inside the shop to check my driver's license. After inspecting my license, he asked "so, October 22 - would that make you a Libra or a Scorpio?" Is that a pick-up line? Am I like a light to moths when it comes to service people? Is this why all my previous relationships have failed? Because I keep going for guys who are aspiring to graduate college? This explains so much.

Service People Are So Edgy These Days

Yesterday, I had to call AAA because my brother left the overhead light on in my car while I was in Europe and my battery died. I popped the hood (as though I would have any idea what I was looking for, it just felt like the right thing to do), couldn't see any obvious battery (I have a Prius) and decided to have a male with jumper cables come work out the dead car issue for me.

By the time I got the call that the AAA man was outside, he had already hooked up the jumper cables (via my trunk) and had the paperwork ready for me to sign. He instructed that I go to the nearest Chevron station and have them charge my battery, "like a cell phone." As though I don't understand what a battery is.

He then pointed out that my car "only needs to last until you get married anyway, right?" As though I'm about to marry some rich guy who is going to buy me a nicer car than my family (from Marin) would.

The Stalker

Grammy just came into my room to tell me she is convinced someone is following her and that she's not just paranoid. She was walking home and we live across the street from the park and someone walked semi-behind her and when she slowed down, he supposedly slowed down too.

She got to the house and came inside and locked all the doors and the man is now laying out on the grass across the street but is blocked by a tree... "but he can see around it." She acknowledged that she sounds paranoid but she doesn't know what to do and every time she looks out the window, he can see her looking out the window.

I'm pretty sure it's nothing to worry about. She just asked me, "You don't have anyone following you, do you?" I don't. Because I have been in bed watching reality television all day.

Bake and... bake?

So I moved into my new room in Petaluma yesterday. I spent all day yesterday unpacking and organizing my stuff, and then today I've been grocery shopping and running some last minute errands before starting work tomorrow morning.

Today, I came back from Trader Joe's and Grammy was in the kitchen making some sort of stir fry that she had started before I had left. Her tiny, six inch tall bong was sitting on the stove next to her and she turned to me and said "I shouldn't smoke and cook at the same time."

She had thrown handfuls of dried mushrooms into her stir fry and was waiting for them to "soften up." She took a bite from the pan and said "OH... That's not good," then decided to leave it for longer to allow it to get better somehow.

Sadie

This is Sadie:

I finally moved out of Davis for good (and off my roommates' couch since I was in denial about leaving college and refused to leave, even after my bed had left). I decided to come home to Mill Valley for a few days and hang out with Sadie, but she was so excited to see me she did this:

This leaves me with no option but to sue my mother.

Why This Exists

Hey to whoever reads my blog,

I decided to start blogging again since I have been missing my blog from Spain. This time, I'm going to try to make it more multimedia-y, instead of just text, but we'll see if I actually follow through on that.

Right now, I'm in the process of moving to Petaluma to live with Grammy, my grandmother, who owns multiple filing cabinets labeled "Scientology" and has warned me to call before showing up at her house so I don't catch her doing anything she isn't supposed to be doing, "like smoking dope."

So, this blog will hopefully help me retain whatever is left of my sanity and all you people out there that I've semi lost touch with can track what I'm doing with my life these days.

Thanks for reading, and I should have something interesting for you soon.