Feel the burn

It’s going to be a long week and I already feel burned out. I have so much to do I don’t know where to start. So I make lists and a million phone calls to set things up for a million stories, but I feel like I haven’t actually done anything because it doesn’t feel like I’ve made any progress on any single one.

My friend’s out of town, doing something more exciting than me. I’m working on Saturday. I’m so behind on my TiVo that it’s starting to erase programs I haven’t watched.

IHOPpy birthday to me

Imagine my surprise when we drove by a closed IHOP with a sign saying it will reopen tomorrow! We had to go all the way to the west side for my cinnamon roll French toast. Got to work at 12:30, but it was worth it.

As it was worth it last night to go from the restaurant with good foccacia, goat cheese and lavender cosmopolitans to a cheap bar and then to Applebee’s to get a Triple Chocolate Meltdown exactly at midnight. Unfortunately, the cake was not as warm as it should have been, but it did the trick.

Taking the lunge

Remember how I jumped out of an airplane and landed without a scratch? Well, I only lasted through 10 minutes of a leg-intensive warm-up last night at kickboxing (not Rob’s club) before straining something in my hip. I blame the barking drill sergeant leading warm-ups for not stretching us thoroughly first.

She’s a good girl, loves her mama…

My faith in my own disbelief in a higher power was reaffirmed yesterday as a teeny plane took me and Rob to 8,000 feet in preparation to drop us from the sky. I wondered whether the chute was packed right, and what would happen if I wasn’t harnessed tightly enough to the instructor. And the same about Rob’s harness and chute.

At no point did I think, “Oh please, please God (or anyone), let our chutes open, don’t let us die.” I wasn’t worried for myself if I died, but for my poor mother, who told me later she had a terrible feeling of dread the night before.

Not to bury the lead, but our chutes opened and we landed safely, Rob on his feet, me on my butt because my legs didn’t seem to hold me. So I just sat down on the grass.

I can’t brag that I jumped out of a plane, because you can’t actually jump from a seated position, can you? The plane was so small we sat on the floor. And if Rob showed any trepidation, it was over the lack of the door on the plane and the possibility that he might fall out. We weren’t strapped to our professionals yet.

After a 15-minute ascent, they had us put our on neoprene hoods (mine bore a Maple leaf) and goggles, and buckled us to their harnesses. They unrolled the flap that covered the gaping hole in the side of the plane and had Rob dangle his legs out the plane, his instructor behind him. I thought, “I wonder what it will be like to watch my beloved fall from an airplane.”

And there he went, tumbling through the sky a few times before he was out of my line of sight. One time he jumped through a window from a stairwell outside Western’s performing arts center. I thought he was going to die and told him never to do that again. This didn’t feel like that.

Rob said later that he thought there’d be more prep time, but no, you just roll on out the plane.

Then it was my turn. It was windier than I anticipated when I had my legs out the door. And there was a lot of Abbotsford, B.C., below me. And nothing to catch me. If I felt five seconds of fear, it was probably then. But it wasn’t terror so much as “Whoa my god (the lowercase kind). Am I really doing this?”

We tumbled out of the plane, I saw the sky above me for a moment before realizing that it didn’t feel so much like plummeting toward the earth at 120 mph as much as it felt like wind rushing past my face like when you stick your head out a really fast moving car.

It wasn’t at all what I thought it would be. Rob said later, “You know when you’re on a roller coaster and you’re about to fall really fast and your heart jumps in your throat?”

“It didn’t feel like that.”

So we rushed through the air for 35 seconds and then the chute opened and I was vertical, danging in front of Gerry (the professional) and floating through the sky.

“Where’s Rob at?” I asked, adding a superfluous preposition to that question for the first time in my entire life.

Gerry pointed out Rob’s green chute and steered us toward him. Rob took pictures of me. (with a disposable camera, because for some reason he didn’t want to take his video camera up with him.)

This too, did not feel like I thought it would. It wasn’t like flying, but almost like standing still, with a harness between my legs, holding me upright, as green and purple trees and mountains and rivers got closer and closer.

“Bellingham’s over that way,” Gerry said, but I couldn’t really tell where he was pointing.

I saw Rob hit the gravel landing pad, running forward as he was told to, his white Reeboks unnaturally bright next to his army green jumpsuit and jacket.

He took my picture as I came in for my landing on the grass next to the landing pad, plopping down on my butt.

I bet those skydiving dudes are tired of people going “It’s amazing!” “Beautiful!” “Incredible!” or whatever.

So I don’t have an original superlative to use here. It kicked ass.

Just asked Rob what one word he’d use and he said, “Jubilation.”

So let’s hear it for Vancouver Skydive. And the border guard who asked me (because his passport was stolen) whether I knew for a fact that Rob is a U.S. citizen. Come to think of it, that ratty army-green jacket of his dad’s does makes him look like a terrorist.

Oh, and there was a dude going up right after us whose girlfriend bought him the jump for his 30th birthday. But she was staying on the ground.

The longest day

Oh my god, have I only been here 6 hours? It hasn’t been a bad day, I’ve been quite productive. It’s just that I’m dying to hit the road and see my sweetie.

I’ve written two stories, have two more to go, but really I can write one of them Monday. Hell, I could write them both Monday, but since I am capable of writing one in the next two hours, I should get on it.

Just had the first piece of chocolate cake of my birthday season. Yeah, it’s a season this year. Today isn’t really a birthday event for me, but I wished for a chocolate cake for the going-away party for a coworker to whom I have never spoken. And I got my wish!

My festivities start tomorrow with Rob. There will be at least one piece of chocolate cake (maybe even another tonight, since it’s his mom’s birthday) and perhaps a jump from an airplane (sorry, Mom).

Rob said, “We should do something big for your 30th birthday. How about skydiving?”

And I’m like, “I love you.”

But the weather may not cooperate, so we’ll see if it happens.

On Wednesday, my birthday eve, I plan to drink lavender cosmopolitans and eat either chocolate cake or a brownie sundae.

Eek, I almost just blogged about what I’m doing the following weekend, and the cake it will involve, but I just remembered it’s a surprise.

The point is, my 30th birthday season starts tomorrow and culminates next Saturday with a piece of chocolate cake. Unless we have the presents at home after the cake. I suppose it could linger a little through Sunday, we’ll call that an Indian Birthday Season. But for sure, by the time I hit work the following week, it’s over.

Rainy day woman

I’m sure I’ve used that title before. Stop me if I start repeating blogs…

Yesterday felt so much like a Thursday, I found myself looking for my weekly section in the paper. Unfortunately, today also feels like a Thursday.

Wow. I really don’t have anything else to say.

Quantity v. quality

I’m gonna do this. Sure it’ll be November sweeps and I already have kickboxing classes three nights a week and frequently work til 8 or 9…but hey, I can write a crappy novel in 30 days. I’m thinking my two planned trips to Los Angeles will carve out more time for me, rather than cut into it.

Anyone care to join me? Doing it in groups, even cyberly connected, is encouraged.

Unrelated, but I accidentally threw away my fortune cookie last week. Today they gave me two.

Acai lies

Have a new favorite beverage. Emerald City Smoothie’s Brazilian blend, with Acai berry, which is supposed to be really low-calorie and improve mental alertness (and was on Oprah). They blend the Acai with a protein powder in either chocolate or vanilla. I’m told the 24-oz smoothie is 250 calories, which seems impossible, cus the smoothies I used to get were all at least 350.

The bad news is, it costs $5.

The lie is that after drinking the smoothie, I got to work and stared at the computer and the phone for at least an hour before I managed to even pick up the phone to make a call. Then I yawned so much during one interview, I thought the subject would hear me.

Delicious? Yes. Improved mental alertness? Not yet.

The bummer is that I really need to get two stories out of the way, so I can give my full attention to the two stories I need to write tomorrow. I know I’m going to be kicking myself tomorrow for not being more productive today, but I just don’t feel like it.