1982 Back Rubs

I set out to splurge on Friday night, and I accomplished my goal. The acceptance into the UW-Bothell program is both a beginning and an end. I'm in, and the tests I've taken, and the classes I've attended since last September have all paid off. From my initial epiphany in Tahoe one night last summer, to a few days ago when I got my acceptance letter, I always thought there might be some big, unforeseen road block in my way to becoming a teacher. That still might be the case, but from this point forward, the train is on the tracks, and I just need to give the train some momentum and it will start chugging along.

These next 16 months are going to be rough, and I will need to be cheaper than Uncle Scrooge in order to survive. Going out and spending a lot of money doesn't make the most sense, but I had good company last night, and decided one last hurrah! was in order...

Princess Leia and I went out to Anthony's on Shilshole for a late dinner, and ended up running up a $115 dinner bill. Not even close to the most expensive meal ever eaten at Anthony's, but end bill was more than double the most expensive meal I've ever paid for. We had an amazing (and relatively cheap, for the location) $30 bottle of white wine to go with our borderline orgasmic crab cakes. Those two were the highlights of the meal. The entrees weren't nearly as memorable as the crab cakes and wine. I had my heart set on the Ahi, but Anthony's was all sold out.

We came back to the house, looking forward to the hot tub. I had talked with my parents earlier in the day, and I hinted at the possibility of opening a bottle of my birth-year wine. I asked Mom if Dad would kill me if I opened a bottle of 1982 wine. She responded by quoting my father as saying, "I expect 1982 back rubs in return!"

I agreed, but on the condition that those back rubs don't accrue interest.

I picked out a bottle of Bordeaux, from 1982, and I was extremely excited to pop open the cork and taste the best wine I've ever tasted. Unfortunately, the wine was terrible. Princess was almost certain the wine had gone bad, most likely by getting oxygenated. The cork split in two, hot dog style, after pulling it out from the neck of the bottle, and it didn't look in great shape. The wine was potent, but in an old paint-can way, not in the "pitcher of amazing beer" potency. We let the bottle of wine breathe unintentionally, by getting distracted by the call of the hot tub.

I am in such a weird spot lady-wise. Last night was exactly what I wanted, and the friendship with Princess Leia seems like a typical friends with benefits relationship--one that I've never experienced before, and never really had a desire to be a part of. I'm not really sure I want to continue the benefits side of the friendship, because I have a feeling it will lead to oddness in the future. I've told her I'm not looking for a relationship, and I'm fairly certain she isn't looking for a relationship (at least not with me), which makes the friendship odd. I think we'd be perfectly fine just being friends, but since neither of us is seeing anyone--and we are physically attracted to each other--it only makes sense to enjoy ourselves.

Lesbians, Hot Tubs and Motorcycle Racing

Well, other than the slight fabrication of lesbians (there was only one), the title says it all for my weekend. I'm falling deeper into degeneracy than I thought. Fun, though!

Princess Leia is back in action for the weekend, and we decided on a little dinner date on Friday to plan out a motorcycle ride today (Sunday). I offered to "cook" Indian food, so after work on Friday, I came home, hopped on my bike, and headed down to Trader Joe's to pick up rice, naan and the Indian food packets. I say "cook" because it is pretty much stick packet into boiling water for five minutes, then serve. That's cooking in my book, but Leia was anticipating me slaving over the meal for hours prior to her arrival--hah, yeah right!

Anyways, on my quick ride down to Trader Joe's, I pass through University of Washington's "frat row." I give a head nod to a scooter rider who is waiting to come out of the alley just west of 17th street. He nods back. A minute later, I'm stopped at a red light, waiting to turn left, when the scooter kid comes up behind me and says,

"Hey! I bet I could beat you in a race."

First of all, it had just rained--second of all--who says that?!

"I bet you could too," I respond.

"Yeah, I'd kick your ass in a race," he says.

Now, this isn't some big guy on a bigger bike, it is a little punk kid on a scooter. I know scooters are faster off the line, and I'm not about to race this kid on a wet Seattle street during rush hour. I try and ignore him, then I realize that I'm about 90% sure this kid is all talk. I turn around and say,

"Turn left and we'll see."

He breaks eye-contact and says,

"...nah, I'm going straight."

Now, I wasn't about to race the guy if he turned left, but it was nice to see him go from thinking he was the king of the road on his little scooter, to shriveling back down to earth.

Leia and I wound up in the hot tub after finishing off a bottle of wine and our Punjab eggplant. We traded massages, and it was slightly misting rain--which you could only feel if you concentrated, and I was having a hard time concentrating. Being in a hot tub with a very attractive half-naked lesbian is quite possibly the biggest tease in the world, especially one who likes to include kisses in her massages. But hey, I'll admit to liking a good tease every now and then...

On Saturday, we found a group motorcycle ride for today, that goes up around Whidbey Island. We get to take a ferry, and it is supposed to hit 60 degrees today, which would be ten degrees warmer than any other day in the past three months. I've got my camera, and you bet your ass there will be pictures up tonight.

The Case of the Hungry Hot Tub Lid

Good evening, gentle readers. Won't you join me in a glass of wine? You've likely had a tough week, which will soon be over, and I must say--if anyone deserves to kick back with a glass of wine, it is you.

My one evening of rest and relaxation this week is soon coming to an end. Monday night was consumed by the first math test of the quarter, which could have gone better. Tuesday night began nicely, until I remembered my math assignment due the next night--which sucked the hours of the night away. Wednesday night was more math class, leaving me with a lengthy one hour to cool down before bed. I've been looking forward to tonight since Monday.

The night started off well, with a friendly "meow!" of welcome home from Ichi, and a tripping attempt by Watson. It wasn't dinnertime just yet though, and I did recall seeing some sun outside, so I hopped on my neglected girlfriend and gave her a ride to Trader Joe's. I picked up four cans of chicken noodle soup, a few cans of clam chowder and two packets of Indian to nip this cold in the bud, then hopped back on my bike. Being able to park anywhere with the motorcycle is a big plus I didn't get to experience in Tahoe much. If I had stopped on the way home from work, I would have either had to pay for parking, or get lucky and find a spot in Joe's very compact parking lot.

Back home, with the house warming, cats eating, and chicken noodle soup cooling, I flipped on the television and found a close Indiana vs. Illinois basketball game going on. I was also reading a new edition of National Geographic, when I remembered about the new season of Survivor starting up one of these weeks. After a quick check at cbs.com, I discovered the new season started in approximately two minutes. Unexpected surprises, however small, put me in the best mood.

I flipped back and forth between the new Survivor season and the basketball game, which went to not one, but two overtimes. I think Indiana ended up pulling off the victory, in a game where both teams had multiple opportunities to clinch. I'm talking missed free-throws, stupid fouls, even a 10-second violation with less than a minute to play in overtime! I can honestly say, I've never seen that before--with no back-court press, mind you.

Thanks to the lackluster basketball play (although still a tight game, which always ups the entertainment value), I spent most of my time watching the first episode of the new Survivor season. The folks at Survivor have done "All-Star" survivor seasons before, but never quite like this. The two tribes are split up into one tribe consisting of all-stars, players who have played the game before and have been quite popular, and another tribe of Survivor fans--people who have watched the show and think they have what it takes to tough it out for 39 days.

I think the premise is a wonderful way to keep Survivor fresh. Admittedly, I only watched the final few episodes of the first Survivor (8 years ago?), and didn't watch any seasons of Survivor until last winter down in Nevada City. But I have definitely caught the bug, like many of you with "Lost" or "The Sopranos."

Initially, I thought the all-stars would have a huge advantage, and they did when it came to setting up camp right away and understanding what had to be done in order to live out there on their own. The contrast between the all-star camp and the fan camp was like night and day, although compared to other survivor first tribes, the fans did a very good job.

Most of the all-stars began creating alliances right out of the gate, and knew they were safe for at least the first tribal council. I think this may have led to some complacency on their part. Going up against a pack of hungry fans in the first immunity challenge, the all-stars got whooped, and unfortunately had to send a very interesting character home. One I would have liked to see stick around a little longer.

So up until this point in the night, my evening was going very nicely. A little motorcycle ride, some basketball on TV, chicken noodle soup, and an unexpected surprise of Survivor. I gave Angela a call, along with Renee and Tyler to set up our plans for Friday evening, then decided what would be better than a late-night hot tub in the storm?

In Seattle, we've got quite the wind storm tonight, and I'm having a hard time deciding whether hot tubbing in a storm or hot tubbing in the snow is my favorite. Hot tubbing in the snow is magical, but hot tubbing in a really nasty storm is unbelievable--you're entire body is encased in a 100+ degree protective water barrier, but you see the trees swaying from side to side, you can hear garbage cans tumbling down the street, and every so often you see something go flying by. Leaves, a piece of paper, farm animals--it all depends on the severity of the storm, and where the hot tub is located.

One time in Hawaii, I was hunkered down in a hot tub with a couple other kids I had just met (we were all around 14 yrs old). A storm was blowing lounge chairs all around the pool area, and when one eventually made its way into the hot tub, the guy's sister decided it was time to head out. Him and I waited out the storm, and when it passed, we got up out of the hot tub and all of the lounge chairs were heaped in a chaotic mess along the far side of the pool area, and our towels were nowhere to be found.

Back in Seattle, I decided that hot tubbing in the storm would be a fitting end to a relaxing evening, and also decided that it was dark, stormy, and private enough that skinny dipping wasn't out of the question. I turned off the lights in the kitchen, and quietly snuck outside. Interestingly enough, the storm had shook the hot tub lid off kilter a bit. I tried to unlatch one buckle from its slot, but it wasn't budging. Me and my naked behind were trying desperately to unlatch the hot tub lid, while both of us were getting colder and more aware of our surroundings.

WHUMP!

What was that?!

Oh, just the garbage can falling over. OK, garbage cans do that--we're cool, we're cool.

*snap* and the hot tub lid finally comes unhinged, praise be to Jeebus! I flip half of the lid over onto the other half, like I've been doing the last few hot tubs. Mostly to save energy--not having to haul the entire lid on and off, which makes sense when it is just me in the hot tub. I quickly hopped in, expecting to be scorched, but my face drooped when I found the hot tub to only be lukewarm. I'm trying to think of an analogy to explain the way my heart sunk when the lukewarm water hit my skin, but words do not do the feeling justice, however powerful words may be!

OK, OK, I might be over-exaggerating a bit. Let's see if I can put the feeling of an unexpected lukewarm hot tub into words. It was like finding out that your wife has been cheating on you with your best friend... who's dog you were dog-sitting... who just pooped in your work shoes. There we go.

Maybe it was the lid getting knocked off its place a bit, or maybe it was the fact that half of the water had been splashed out of the hot tub by last weekend's charades. The hot tub can fit two comfortably, three with a little effort, and four with a "getting to know you better" feel. We had five in it last weekend, and the skinny-dippers out-numbered the clothed (and I was clothed!). I didn't notice it until now, but the water level was a good eight inches lower than usual. I really wish Marc would go on a diet.

I realize the hot tub stay would be a short, so I flip on the jets for a quick back massage before calling it a night. Luckily, the water level was still above the jets, or else I might have broken my favorite household appliance (do hot tubs fall into this category?). The jets work their magic on my aching back, and I'm contemplating a retreat back inside, when a gust of wind comes up and nearly flips the hot tub lid down onto me.

Hah! I say to myself. That could have been bad! What a fool I would look like to be walloped in the head by my beloved hot tub lid. I slide down a bit, to where my head is the only thing above the waterline. If I had been sitting up like before, I'd have a shorter neck right now! With my head down here though, if a gust of wind comes up and knocks over the lid, I wouldn't even be touched. All that would happen is...

*GUST*

**WHUMP!!**


***darkness***