Conversation with Mike, about two weeks ago:

Mike: So, did you read that book I gave you?

Me: No, not yet.

Mike: Come on, it's been 6 months.

Me: I know. I haven't had time.

Mike: Find time.

Me: Yeah, yeah.

Mike: Okay, next trip you go on, take just that book. Don't take any magazines, just that book.

Me: What? I can't do that. I might get bored.

Mike: You won't get bored. Just that book.

Me: Okay, fine. I'll take just that book.

So, I went to Los Angeles today. Specifically, I went to Pasadena to attend the monthly Housing Association meeting. My condo has been flooded, and my property manager was getting nowhere with the Condo Complex property management company. I was hoping I could break the impasse and get things going on the roof repairs.

I took along the book, The Reality Dysfunction, that Mike suggested over a year ago that I read (that I bought six months ago and hadn't read yet). When I sat down on the plane, I pulled out the book and started reading.

And stopped only to take care of business, reading every moment I could. Waiting for Cynthia, read the book. Waiting in the car for the lunatic to return, read the book. Waiting at the stoplight, out came the book. Suzannne went to the bathroom, out came the book.

Curse you, Mike! It's a good book! I'm hooked!

This past Sunday, Mike, Kris, Bella, Rossi, Annie and I went to Water Dog Lake in Belmont. It's a nice little hike: about a mile up to the lake, maybe 1/2 mile around the lake, and a mile back. When we head up with Annie and Bella, they walk/run an extra 2+ miles, so it's good exercise for them. Bella tends to get lost in the reeds, but, eh, she's a hunting dog, and she's hunting.

So, we wandered up to the lake and Kris went off with Annie. I went off with Bella. And Mike went off with Rossi. As Rossi is a water dog, it was fitting that she should head into the water. So she did. Which worked well for Mike, as he was recovering from the flu that had him out for a week, and could stand around and watch her romp in the water.

I was not so lucky with Bella. She took off for the underbrush, and I needed to follow her. Up the canyon walls we went. Over the creek. Up the hill. Down the hill. Back over the creek. Through the reeds. Over the fallen trees. Into the mud. Out of the mud.

Yeah.

Given the sheer number of trees I had to scramble over, under, around and through, I was unsurprised when I arrived home with scratches on my arms. What did surprise me (and admittedly freaked me out) was the scratch on my right elbow.

Or not so scratch: I found a tick embedded into my right elbow when I removed my shirt.

On went the rest of my clothes. Out the door sans shoes I ran, four doors down to Kate & Mike's: tick remover, alcohol and tweazers in hand. Kate doused the fucker in kerosene and popped it out. She did a great job getting most of the head out.

Once I was at the Bergeron-Gull house, the tick was kinda cool. I wish I had taken a picture of the thing. But I had left the house in a panic, so the camera was left behind. And Mike was a little big grossed out at my fascination, too. Heh.

I pulled 3 ticks off Bella, and none off Annie. I think the chasing-of-the-Bella was where I got my tick. Stupid dog.

I have elbow pictures around here somewhere. My elbow totally swelled around the tick bite. There was a small black thingy (about the size of the pointy end of a pin or needle) left in my elbow. The only reason I found it was because my body rejected it and spit it out today. I have a 3/32" blood blister at the bite spot, and a 1/4" red circle around it. I have no stiffness or flu-symptoms, so hopefully I'll be tick-disease free. We'll see. Quite the adventure for the week.

What is worse than getting lost in the details?

Never starting because you're overwhelmed by the project.

Or starting, and stopping because one small, small detail stops you.

Back in college, a roommate of mine commented she didn't know anyone who had more self-help books than I did. I read science fiction, science fiction fantasy (think trolls and hobbits and wizards and magic), and self-help books. I never read the relationship ones, but I did read a lot of the "I'm fucked up, how can I unfuck myself up?" books. I hadn't noticed that I read a lot of self-help books (though it was obvious to anyone looking at my books), and needed this smack up-side the head.

And because of that roommate, I stopped reading self-help books. She had made the comment as an accusation ("What kind of nitwit reads this shit?"), thereby causing me to stop looking outside for help and to start looking inside.

I had many more years to go before I could say I was happy. And I had many friends that helped me along the way. I knew the day was closer, though, when my childhood friend Jessica told me she liked me better now (where now was many years after college) than before because I didn't hate myself anymore.

A small comment, made casually, that also had a profound effect on my life.

Jess is good like that.

With the help of Jenny, Jess, Yosufi, Bob, Wook, Mom, Kris, Bharat, Lisa, Mark, Mike and others, I've learned to accept myself, to realize what I like and don't like about myself, to focus on the good stuff (because chances are, I'm completely exaggerating the bad stuff). I'm sure I'll die disliking some parts of me (did I mention my short legs?), but I won't die hating all of me.

And that's a good thing.

Actually, that insight was a little much. I wouldn't have thought that not writing because I had a bunch of pictures to include in my Ticked Off post, and I was tired of downloading the images to my harddrive, resizing them, putting two borders around them, uploading them to the server and including them in the post. I want to have a nice streamlined approach to posting images; I've reached my pain-point with my current process. It sucks.

And pictures are nice.

So, technology to the rescue. (Or as Bharat once pointed out to me about the two of us: we use technology to make life easier for ourselves. Usually because we're lazy.)

What a silly reason not to write: I haven't been writing because I wanted pictures in my blogs, and posting them is a pain in the ass with my current process. Because I couldn't do everything, I did nothing. Lost in the details.

Another thing to fix.

Kris and I went over to Mike, Kate and Liza's tonight for dinner. It was a very nice evening. We met some of Kate's work friends: Brian and Kim with baby Alex, and Isis and Shaun. With the two youngsters in the house and another one on the way, talk naturally drifted towards children, and then not having children. In particular, when a couple decides they're done having children, who volunteers to go under the knife?

When most of the men agreed a vasectomy was the way to go (if their wives have to go through the pain of childbirth, the least they can do is undergo the surgery to prevent another one), Kim related the story of when the husband of a friend she knew underwent his vasectomy: he had the operation done and went home. Sometime in the middle of the night, this guy woke up with his testicles the size of grapefruits. He immediately dashed (drove? ran?) to the hospital, where they discovered the incisions had not stopped bleeding, causing the swelling, and, I can only assume, incredible pain. They were drained, stitched back together properly, no lasting harm done.

All fine and good. But I couldn't help but wonder, wouldn't you wake up once your nuts were the size of apples? Who waits until they're the size of grapefruits?

Heh. Today's meals included a Krispy Kreme donut, milk, Cold Stone Creamery chocolate ice cream with almonds, chocolate chips, then finally a real meal at Satsuma (sushi). My insides are lovin' me right now.

Yeah right.

Probably a good thing I don't do this very often (like never).

If you must drive the wrong way down a one way street, drive very fast. You're going the wrong way, so get the fuck out of there.