Anna's Write

Please... tell me how to write my story

Let me tell you what I love: when people I'm interviewing tell me how I should write a story. Boy, that just rubs me the right way, ya know? Thank you so much for telling me that I have a great story here that other media would be happy to pick up. Thank you for telling me all the names of people who donate to your cause and that they should be included in the article (you want a freakin' list or something?). Thank you for telling me how this story could be a series because there will be an update in the fall that is the equivalent of two sentences. Oh, and thank you so much for offering up your snapshots to accompany the story that you are apparently writing for me. Snapshots are what sell papers!

Car Trouble

What is a bigger pain in the ass than car trouble? Our Honda seems to have an alternator problem. When I come to a rolling stop at a stop sign or a signal, the car dies. I had the battery replaced the other day, on the advice of the AAA tow truck driver who jumped my car on Monday when it wouldn't start. That hasn't solved the problem. In fact, it got worse after the battery was replaced... that's when it started dying on a regular basis. Our car is 10 years old and has a few little, annoying problems but overall it is still a great car. However, I really want a new one. I don't have car payments so it's not logical to actually get one. But still. Currently, I'm having a love affair with this hot little number. Sadly, thanks to the arm and the leg I pay my trainer each month, we can probably only afford this zippy little car.

The car goes into the shop on Thursday morning. Pray for my checkbook.

*UPDATE: No word yet from the mechanic about what's wrong with the car, but I am driving around a bitchin' minivan today, thanks to a free upgrade from Enterprise. The side doors open and close by remote. "It's the Cadillac of minivans."

Everybody's a celebrity!

Do you ever have a day where everyone you see reminds you of a celebrity? Well, this was a first for me. It all started this afternoon when I saw a girl walking down the street in Northwest Portland who looked remarkably similar to Scarlett Johanssen, or however you spell her name. Then, suddenly, everyone looked like a celebrity! I saw Mischa Barton having lunch with Kate Bosworth at my favorite restaurant. Fionna Apple was sitting at a table by herself and Rachel Bilson was getting a burrito to go. Gary Busey was buying coffee in front of me at Starbucks. Bruce Willis opened the door for me as I left Starbucks. Then, I went to Office Depot where Tim Blake Nelson helped me find yellow notepads and then he was also my cashier. At my office, I met one of my neighbors, Ethan Suplee.

Not sure why my brain is wired this way today. Maybe it's the fireworks or the margaritas (or both). Whatever it is, it's actually an entertaining way to spend the afternoon.

Summer again... find me a lake!

So! I found something to write about other than my weight or my neighbors.

It's supposed to be about 100 degrees this weekend and I don't do heat very well. I feel all puffy and sweaty and tired when it gets hot. And no, we don't have air conditioning so I will be suffering this weekend (I may have to suffer through a bad movie just to get some air conditioning!).

The only thing that I consider to be totally refreshing is a lake. And not just any lake: Flathead Lake. The reason why this is the only lake that will do is because it (seems) so clean. There really isn't any seaweed. The bottom is rocky and not muddy. All good things. I've been to plenty of other lakes and nothing stacks up to Flathead (I admit a bias for sentimental reasons). There are a number of rivers around here but I just can't immerse myself in one. First, there's that whole fear of being swept away and drowning. Then there's the whole pollution issue. As for the ocean, it's just too damn cold! Getting in as far as your ankles is enough to cool down your whole body, but it's still not what I consider refreshing.

Once again this summer I will be seeking the perfect body of water for refreshment. I will also be buying lottery tickets in hopes of affording my own place on Flathead.

Photographic Proof

March 2006 in Hawaii: 23 pounds heavier

Last week in Savannah: definitely a change (and I realize that shirt makes my left boob look weird)

I still have quite a lot to lose. And I feel a lot thinner than I look.

Weigh In #3

It's already been a month since my last weigh-in so the inevitable happened yesterday. I had to get on a scale and get measured and pinched. The news wasn't as incredible this time around as it was the first two months, but there are a lot of possible factors to get in the way of my weight loss. First, five days in Georgia. It was awesome. I don't regret a bite. But, since I didn't exercise during that time, I most likely gained a pound or two. Also, as you may recall, I had some trouble with energy for about 10 days last month. So... I think it's a miracle that I lost anything at all.

Here are the stats for last month:

Pounds lost: 5
Total pounds lost: 23
Inches off my neck: .5
Inches off my thighs: .5
Inches off my calves: .75
Inches off my hips: .75
Inches off my bust: .75
Inches off my waist: ZERO

While the weight loss initially came off my waist, it appears my mid-section is desperately holding on to the remaining fat. My trainer says that's OK and that's probably where it will come off last. The good news is that, unlike many women, I don't hold my weight in my hips.

We're switching into a new phase of training that focuses more on the upper body and less on the legs (those get a workout twice a week during stairs). My trainer thinks my muscles are where they need to be and now we need to work on shedding the fat. That's probably why he pushed me a lot harder when we climbed stairs last night. Not only did I go up six times (there are 182 stairs), but I had to do them three at a time and run them and stuff. Basically, harder than walking up. I was really winded and had a hard time catching my breath, but my body held out.

While doing exercises between flights of stairs, we discovered that my left hamstring is on the verge of an injury. I was lying on my back, trying to lift my hips in the air with my hamstring and it kept locking up (painfully!). I did three before my trainer stopped me. Now, on top of icing my knees, I'm also icing my left hamstring. So far, there have been no trips to the doctor.

Drunk Neighbor Update

Well, I did it. I called the cops on my drunk neighbor. He didn't have the music blaring-- probably because I asked him to turn it down late one night a few weeks ago. But, still. He's drunk. Sitting on his front porch and swearing (loudly!) into his cell phone. Who is he always on the phone with? Someone in Hawaii? Or maybe he has a drunk friend in this time zone who likes to stay up late and swear, too. This neighbor of mine has at least a dozen kids running around that house (yes, I'm exaggerating- but there are a lot). I kinda feel bad about calling the cops because he seems like a nice enough guy but I sure as hell don't want to confront him on my own, in the dark, when he's drunk and obviously angry about something. Plus, he's a terrible father (I've seen him drunk in the middle of the day while he's taking care of his kids) and it would be good if he was on the cops' radar.

Now I'm sitting in the dark with my window open, waiting to hear the cops arrive. It's only been about 15 minutes since I called them and I'm sure he's not exactly on the top of their priority list. (Although, what crime are they combatting in Beaverton on a Sunday night? It's too late to bust anyone for jaywalking.)

Ah, crap. His phone just died and he went inside. *Sigh* That means I'm going to have to call the cops on him tomorrow night too.

Wait! He's back. I hear him mumbling something. Maybe he fell on his face and can't get up. Let's see if I can catch what he's saying:

Drunk: "She-she-she. She already knows it."
(Long Silence)
Drunk: "Spank 'em, man. Spank 'em."
Drunk (slurred): "No, no. Dude."
Drunk: "We raise 'em. You have to stop that. I'm telling you you have to stop that. They get set in the way we raise 'em."
Drunk: "Bring- bring- bring. Bring 'em to my house."
Drunk (slurred): "You- you- you- you. You want this to be prearranged. You don't know nothing. Wha-wha-wha did you do?"
Drunk: "Shit."
Drunk (slurred): "I-I-I. No-no. I-I-I. I trust you every day, bro. And I love you. I can't understand how you, uh. My children can't do whatever they want. They can't do that."

Great. He's giving parenting advice.

It's 12:30 am. I'm going to bed.

More Portland Pics

A little before I left for Savannah, Jason and I stumbled upon the painting of Sunnyside Piazza. It's an intersection that is one block off a busy road in the Belmont neighborhood of SE Portland. There are several projects like it around the city (I wrote about Share-It Square last summer). The idea is to bring neighbors together to paint the intersection and also to build things at the intersection, like a tea house and cob benches (hippies!!) so everyone gets to know each other. Having a giant, yellow sunflower painted in your intersection also causes cars to hit the brakes as they drive through.

Random Portland Picture

This horse is always tied up outside my gym.

Totally

Via Miss Cellania