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The layoff conundrum: suddenly I have a lot more time on my hands, but
just as suddenly I am really worried about money. So I'm reluctant to
go out and do fun things. I need to find a balance soon or I will
start to go insane.
Luckily I had this last weekend booked end to end far in advance of
any job news. To celebrate Aimee's birthday Friday night we went to
Pac Bell Park and watched the Giants destroy the Marlins 9-3 while
munching on garlic fries and hot dogs. I hadn't been to a game since
a rainout two years ago, and it was my destiny this night to fall in
love with Tsuyoshi Shinjo, our new totally hot centerfielder. He hit
a grand slam and I nearly fell out of the stands I was so excited.
Mojo Shinjo indeed.
I spent most of the day Saturday at Tilden for Northminster's
all-church picnic. In true Presbyterian picnic tradition there was
enough food to feed a small army and also much lazing about in the
sunshine. I think I was a little worn out from helping to organize it,
however. As I was driving home my windshield wipers decided to get
stuck on intermittent, and I reacted by having a small breakdown
myself. It was such a completely random yet totally annoying way for
a car to break. Drove to my car dealership, made an appointment for
Monday morning, resigned myself to intermittent windshield wipers for
the rest of the weekend. At least we were expecting rain.
That evening I trundled over to Aimee's house to carbo-load with the
Bombshells for Bay to Breakers the next day and watch an inspirational
video with them: Charlie's Angels. See it for the dance
numbers. And the hot chicks. And Luke Wilson.
It was my first Bay to Breakers. Seven and a half miles on the
streets of San Francisco with runners, costumes, other walkers, and
so many damn frat boys. This year it was soggy. I had my rain
slicker in my backpack. My teammates were not so lucky. When I got
home (at noon) I crawled into bed and passed out for two hours. I'm
totally doing it again next year.
And now the really embarrassing confession. After avoiding the show
completely for almost three years, I watched the series finale of
The X-Files Sunday night. It succeeded in making me long
for the golden days of seasons 2 and 3, when I was a hardcore fan for
good reason. That line from the Bloodhound Gang song used to mean
something, man.
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Heidi J. De Vries
