Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Gobble gobble. 

Happy Thanksgiving! There's so much to be thankful for each and every day. As much as I bitch about silly, trivial things on my blog, I really am thankful for each and every blessing in life. Since I won't be able to see everyone I love today, I wanted to give a very public thank you to everyone I love and everything I'm thankful for.

First of all, I am so, so thankful for organ donation (if you're able to be a donor - do it!!)! Thank God for my mom's smooth liver transplant recovery. She is now cancer-free!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!! I can't put enough exclamation points (oh look and a one snuck in there)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm also thankful for arthroscopic hip surgery (I promise an 87 year-old is not writing this post)! Today I went up to the gym (yes, on Thanksgiving) and rode the bike for 20 minutes, and I feel great. The pain is becoming less everyday. Slowly but surely, I'll be back doing the things I love. I even have my sites set on some hiking trails once the weather clears up.

After the roller coaster year I've had, I truly realized what a wonderful support network I have.

I am so thankful to my own family (immediate and extended) that we emerged this year stronger than before. While I'm sad I won't be there with you today to celebrate, I'll be driving down soon to enjoy leftover stuffing in the near future (yes, that is a threat - hide your kids, hide your wife, hide your leftovers).

I am so thankful for my wonderful friends who have lent their ears and hearts to me throughout the year and throughout life! My best friend and I recently realized that we've known each other for 20 years! Cheers to lifelong friendships!

I have to give huge, huge thanks to my boyfriend and his family. They have been so wonderful to me throughout the entirety of this year. Boyfriend has been my rock through the ugliest times. He was there for me when I was at my worst and has helped keep me sane when I felt like everything was falling apart. His family has also been there for me and my whole family, offering their love and support in any way they could. I feel blessed to have such amazing future in-laws.

So thank you thank you thank you to everyone, everywhere. I love you all and I'm thankful for you all! And I'm thankful for stuffing and pumpkin pie, and even you, Bowsie, and sweats, and tea....okay I better stop here or this could go on forever...

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but never forget to count your blessings.


Five Guys and a Dumb Ass

I'm salivating just looking at this photo. HELP! image from here.

Our little town was finally graced by Five Guys burgers. I have to admit that in the week I realized it was open, I have eaten there three times. I know, I know – you don’t have to tell me I’m on the path to cardiac arrest. But they’re the best burgers I’ve ever eaten. EVER! And I was a previous fan of Dick’s and Red Mill, for all of you Seattleites out there. So you know this is a big deal!

While the Five Guys burgers are little patties of heaven, the intelligence of the workers creating them leaves much to be desired. Maybe my expectations for fast food workers are just way too high, but I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt that they are not complete dumbasses before I hear them speak. But once I hear your voice, the judgment has already been made.

So on outing number 2 of 3, I decided to submit my order online. I typed in my own name, which appears in their computer system just as I typed it. Hana (rhymes with Donna).

I walk in to pick up my manna, and say, “Hi, I’m here to pick up an online order for Hana.”

There is only one bag waiting to be picked up on their shelf. ONE. The pimply idiot looks at it confused and says, “Uh…we have a Hannah?”

My sister (who I peer pressured into trying this gateway drug for the first time) just started laughing.

Seriously? I just told you how to say it. Now you’re telling me how to pronounce my own name? I don’t think so. I didn’t have time to help him clap it out. He was in the way of me and my burger. I simply said, “Yeah, whatever,” and took my bag from his hands as quickly as I could, so I could intravenously shoot grease into my arteries faster.

I swear. An intervention may be needed in the near future if I’m not even stopping to correct this level of idiocy anymore. I’ve heard some pretty stupid things in regards to my name (my previous favorite: You spelled your name wrong Hannah!) but this just proves my inner fat kid has taken over these days.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but stay away from Five Guys unless you want to start an insatiable addiction.


Why I Hate My Blog

I can’t lie – I have a love/hate relationship with this blog. And it’s not just this blog, but social media in general. It has interrupted what I would call the natural social process – you know, visiting with people, calling them up to say hi, writing them a letter. These have all gone the way of the status update (and/or in my case, the blog).

Don’t get me wrong – social media certainly has its benefits. I enjoy that I can still keep in touch with people who I am physically unable to see on a daily basis. However, social media should not replace your entire relationship just because it’s more convenient. Did you have more fun g-chatting with someone or actually going out and having dinner with them? Did you get a better update by reading a facebook status or by spending the day together?

I love having readers, it’s just that I hate when those that I'm close to use my blog as a means for keeping tabs on me, rather than picking up the phone or making plans to do so.

I also hate that when the face-to-face visit does finally happen, and I have to compete with a screen for attention when I’m trying to have a conversation. What ever happened to playing board games or having a good conversation around a fire place? Or (gasp!) going somewhere without your cell phone? I miss the days when technology wasn’t the center of our lives.

I know my particular blog airs out what goes on in my personal life (which is 90 percent of the problem) but I’m best at writing what I know. And I enjoy poking fun at daily musings. And as far as I can tell, you’re reading it because you enjoy it too.

But I don’t post everything that happens to me in life, nor do I want to. So if you really want to stay in touch, don’t use this blog and assume you’ve done your due diligence in the relationship department.

Excuse me, as I go pull a 21st-century Henry David Thoreau. I’m going Walden and retreating into the web-o-sphere.


Flight Passengers, Chardonnay and Sushi

Imagine this guy in the middle seat. Yeah. I got to sit next to him. Image from here

I was just trying to get to San Francisco. It all started when the TSA thought I had a pocket knife on me at SeaTac - note to self: Don’t bring purses with big metal emblems when traveling again. Thanks to the designers at Guess for making security even more of a hassle.

Then, once I finally boarded the plane, I sat next to a guy who really should have purchased a second seat, rather than convincing himself that he could still wedge into the middle seats in coach. But that was only the first of my issues with him - he decided he was going to rest his laptop on his belly and proceeded to type hunt and peck with his elbows directly out to each side (I wish I were exaggerating). If I ever had a personal bubble to begin with, he ensured it was non-existent by the time I left. No matter how far I kept edging my seat back or smashing up against the window, his elbows still managed to make contact with me. He also had restless leg syndrome and kept jittering his foot on my foot. My eye was twitching. Bad.

Then he kept insisting that Lady Gaga was 47 years old, which even though I could care less about Lady Gaga, he was just speaking out of his ass which was yet another strike against him. Seriously? 47? Have you heard of The Google? Try 25. Yeah. You’re off by 22 years.

At one point, he actually turned to me and said, “What a beautiful day to fly!” What I should have said in response was, “For who?! Thanks for being the second worst person I’ve ever sat next to on a flight.” Instead of, “I know, right?” (My inner-valley girl comes out if I’m super annoyed).

The absolute worst person I sat next to during a flight required wine and sleeping pills to survive. It was a 10-hour non-stop flight to London. B.O. and a barfing baby will do that.

He then decided to squish me even more by trying to stick his laptop in the seat pocket in front of him. He could barely get his legs open to reach the freaking thing. Once he achieved his arduous goal, he turned to me and said, "Can you remind me not to forget that?" Suddenly, I've been enslaved as his freaking administrative assistant. WTF?!

Then, some other unfortunate soul decided to go nuts at the Costco food court and eat seven polish dogs before boarding the plane. If it was possible to crop dust by burping, they achieved it. I couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from, but it seemed to linger in front of my face for an inhuman amount of time. Only my dog’s bowels can achieve that kind of legacy. This person’s mouth needed an enema. It was probably Lady Gaga’s biggest fan, but I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt on at least one offense.

On a brighter note, once I made it safely to San Fran, I was delighted to find a gratis welcome bottle of chardonnay in my hotel room. I did the logical thing and attempted to open it with a paper clip before spotting the wine bottle opener. I was that desperate, and clearly not as skilled as MacGyver - I skipped the whole wine glass thing, took a swig straight from the bottle, and then proceeded to spill wine all over my pants. And of course, I was to meet my boss in the lobby in twenty minutes. I was worried I would reek of chardonnay. Luckily, he didn’t notice (or he at least didn’t say anything). Now I’ll be contacted by the Care Network saying that an anonymous source was concerned about my drinking problem. Oh well. At least we got sushi.

We ate the best sushi of my life at Ryoko’s Japanese Restaurant and Bar. It’s on the corner of Taylor and Sutter. If you ever find yourself in downtown San Fran, GO HERE. I command you. You won’t regret it. I had an insanely delicious dragon and tiger roll and lots of tuna sashimi! To top it off, dessert was tempura ice cream! My inner-fat kid rejoiced and the world was a happier, brighter place. And I got to use one of my five Japanese phrases I know (You’re Welcome). Grandma would be proud! (I should have said phrase 2 of 5 - oishides - this is delicoius!).

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but sushi cures all. Except it might accidentally trigger a chain reaction...like this one time...the week is still young - yikes!