I tried out wall climbing last night at Great Western Power Company in Oakland.
So that means that I clung to little hand holdy gripping things on a wall, suspended by a rope, and tried to convince my feet to find a new place to step a little higher and then hoist up again. When I was ready to come down, I had to just let go of the wall and allow myself to be lowered by the rope, while imagining what loveliness was happening to my ass which was harnessed in with straps. Anything that creates fatty bulges around the tuchis and thigh area is surely something to pursue, eh?
I was accompanied on this by two lady friends who were quite brave. I was ever so glad to try this out with other women, especially since they’d never done it before either. We had a little lesson on tying the knots for the climber and the belayer, and then he watched while one person did a climb on a short wall and another did the belaying.
And then he turned us loose on the very tall wall, which was… well, quite tall. I got about half way up when I noticed that I was panting and that my heart was racing and that the Maggie mechanism was quite scared! I tried to make it a bit further up, but the panickyness and then the waning strength in my arm muscles pretty much made me think that that was an ok amount of a try when I got to a point where the little hand hold jobbers started being sparse.
I think I may try it again, and possible have less of the fears. Hopefully. And trying things that are scary is good for you, right?
I went to the Outside Lands festival this weekend, for the whole shebang: Friday night, all day Saturday and all day Sunday. I am the sort of girl who will plan to do something that is supposed to be entirely recreational and fun, and then angst about it. I was afeared that it would make me crabby and over-sunned and beer boozy, but it turned out to be pretty laid back and non-distressing. There were akazillion people, but it was easy enough to keep a distance from the stage, settle down in a grassy spot and listen to music without being in the crush. This does mean that I didn’t have any intense way into the music experiences, because I wasn’t anyway near the stage and it was basically like listening to the CD, but in the outside.
But whatever. It was a neat thing to have done. The Squeeze was there with me for just about all of it. We spent Saturday with my friend Shiny and some of Sunday with his entourage. It seemed like a good thing to be spending more time with one another’s people. And it had been ages since there’d been good Shiny time, so that was stellar. But then, it turns out a funk of some manner of existed: a complaint was raised that the Squeeze was “rolling around on top of me, “mauling” me and making everyone feel uncomfortable.” I am very fuggered about this, as I don’t recall doing much of anything with him even a little. But one of the members of his crew is an ex-girlfriend, so perhaps the sentiment is coming from her. And I could just obsess over this little bit of snark indefinitely. So let’s just leave it at that, shall we? Harumph.
Aside from having that rather distasteful topic come come up after the fact, I did have a rather nice musing to myself while I was there. I had the (obvious) realization while I was there with the Squeeze that we were friends… I recognized the sense of aimless ambling and plotting about what to do next as that feeling of camaraderie. That we are friends. Pals. People who comfortable sharing and vocalizing any passing though. Of snickering and pointing out the ridiculous looking people. Of daring one another to eat raw oysters. Of just being in one another’s company.
It was surprising and nice thing to recognize.
It could be too much caffeine.
Or, I could be really bored at work.
And feeling nervous. Because sometimes I just get over wrought.
And lately, I have been fussy about my thoughts on The Squeeze. The thoughts are bordering on mania.
He’s the most normal, most nice, kind and considerate guy I’ve ever dated. And this is very, very nice. I have made no concessions. I have no qualms. I like him and really don’t want to lose him. And this freaks me the fuck out.
Calming breaths. Calming breaths. Calming breaths.
What if? What if I only think that I like him, but I really don’t, and I won’t realize that until 2 years from now? What if I make one snarky comment too many and he realizes that I’m an asshole? What if his sister hates me? What if I am just caught up in not having to be a part of some sick ill open relationship festering wound of wretched? And I’ll never forget that Shel Silverstein said, “what if green hair grows out of my chest?” Yeah! What if?
Can’t I just rationally deduce that he is:
-incredibly good to me
-very handsome and I’m terrifically attracted to him
-quite clever and intelligent both
-silly and playful
-thinking I am pretty and tells me so and I think I might believe him
-active and engaged and very impressive
-(and a whole laundry list of things, and trying to make a list is just insulting because it would be infinite. And I can’t keep writing an infinite list, so I have to stop, except that also)
-really quite superb in the sack <blush>
So be rational, woman. Stop freaking out. He is good. You are good. The us is good. In fact, it’s excellent and wonderful. Having a mental breakdown over something good is just about the dumbest thing you could choose to do at this moment.
I feel like a person who almost died, and then someone saved me. He’s my poppet, my sweet boy, The Squeeze.
So I missed a whole month of blogging because I couldn’t find the words to say that I had been at an absolute bottom and then found hope. I was so hungry for hope, but it scares me. Scares me so badly to have any sort of belief that good things could happen.
And even if he doesn’t love me forever, he does love me right now. I met someone who looks like a kid on Christmas morning to be able to wrap his arms around me and have me with him. Honestly, he delights in me. And it’s wonderful and scary.
He does not compliment me the way I had been over the past year. He does not woo me with words. But he worries about whether I’m happy. He bought girl smelling shower gel so that I’d have it in his shower. He volunteered to pick snarls out of my hair. He tells me that he’s thankful and proud of me for navigating my way through an afternoon with his friends. He pitted cherries for me. He cut the end off of a leek when I knew he didn’t think he needed to, just because I said he should. He justs want me to be happy. And so I am.
I was at a social gathering of work colleagues of The Squeeze’s this weekend. He works for a British company and many of the employees are British. Conversation turned to the things that they miss living in America, and cheese came up. Specifically, cheddar cheese and how it is non-good. What with the tooting and touting that goes on over California cheese, and more vociferously, Wisconsin cheese, I got a bit huffy. American cheese is awesome! You fools. Just because we sell cheez in a can here doesn’t mean that we don’t also have high end hoity toity cheese as well!
I drank beer, the huff abated.
But then, last night I was in Trader Joe’s. And I was looking at cheeses. I noticed that Trader Joe’s has got an ample selection of cheese from England, so I thought I might get some to please The Squeeze. But then I noticed that there was simply an ample collection of cheddar cheeses from all over the place. So I went a bit nuts and got blocks of English, Irish, New York, Wisconsin and California cheddars. I brought them over, along with some crackers, and requested that he do a blind taste test of the cheeses at his office.
The drama is unfolding right now!
And while I rather wish I myself were nibbling some cheeses, my delight at the prospect of a ridiculous cheddar cheese tasting is huge. Ha!
Except that so far, early reports indicate that the English cheddar is in the lead. Wankers.
Welcome to the world Brandon and Alexa! I hope you live on Planets with mostly goodness and very little suck. It makes my heart so happy to know you.
And Aaron, you will always be my favorite. You are the first baby in my life, and now you’ve gone and gotten yourself twin siblings, just like me. I hope you love them very much and that you will always recognize your own specialness.
The new babies were born on Tuesday, July 22.