I wasn't really sure which blog to post this in. Then I decided, "meh, doesn't matter. my blogs, my rules. BOTH!"

(WARNING: I am so fracking tired and wiped. Prepare for careless use of words and blatant disregard for punctuation)

So, my beer buddy has this saying that there is a time and place for every beer. Meaning, even the biggest craft brew snob has to agree that you just wouldn't beer pong with barley wine style ale. (though, I have had some argue that this would be an epic ponging event - I don't play beer pong, but I still pretty much think barleywine ale pong would be the worst event ever)

That being said. I finished tough mudder today and retested my friends rule (more thoughtfully). In fact, I am awake now because of my epical bruisyness.

Anyway, as I said, I tested my friend's rule today, as I have tested it after every race/athletic event I have participated in for the last year or so (beers post running is getting ever more popular. It might be because of this study saying that beer helps recovery or this one, you get the point).

Any who, when you cross the finish at TM, they hand you your bright orange sweatband, water, a cliff bar, and dos equis (either amber or lager). Let me tell you what, I generally don't go for the mexican beers unless I am on a beach miles from nowhere (or miles from sober) but it was the BEST beer ever. And, I knew it was going to be.

Why? Because I was 10 miles tired - not like my normal saturday 10-mile run. More like a muddy, bloody, sweaty, 10-mile hike at 7,500 ft elevation with 19+ obstacles including walls, ice baths, electric shocks, and mud pits (yay, mud!) I needed me some CARBS and refreshment and to feel like I was drinking a cool breeze.  And, that beer, mmmnnnnomnomnomnom. Also: You probably shouldn't have a super high abv beer post something like tough mudder. You just put your body through the rigamaroo.  Besides, the most interesting man in the world drinks it. So DUH! Clearly the post-mudder beer of choice.

I think my friend is right. Beer can be situational.

I mean, I can honestly say, I've had an oly from time to time when it seemed right. I've even had a pabstini (if you have to ask, you don't want to know). When I check into Untappd, my ratings can change based on my situation. A beer I thought was fantastic yesterday may suck in comparison to something else I had today, so my rating would change, right?

I think the factors that will influence beer selection are these:

1) Activity - what are you doing, or what have you just done. I first gave the example of beer pong. But also, while I have sworn off coors - yea, I'll drink my Killians after my shamrock half marathon (still don't drink blue moon anymore)

2) Location - Are you in brew country or miles away from sober? I mean, for realz - you do not waste good beer when you've already been drinking all day, and sometimes a lighter more refreshing beer fits the bill (I usually will go for cider when I need refreshment).

3) Company - Let's be honest, never be rude and never refuse hospitality and NEVER EVER make someone feel bad for their brew choice. Ever. 'Tis absolutely inappropriate. If your friends are drinking coors, pop one open and pretend if you have to. OR, even better, just bring your own, pop a better beer and SHARE. (Sharing is caring, didn't your mother teach you that?)

4) What you just drank - Again, tastes can change based on recent comparisons. A Lagunitas IPA used to be like, the best beer ever for me. Now, it is my old faithful. My standard, if you will. Why? Well, I have been exploring the world of IPAs and now have a better handle on what I really like and what I don't.

Back to rambling. After my dos equis, my fiance sneakily poured a delicious brew into my cup while I was changing into my TNMT post race outfit (pics to follow). A Hop Crisis.

Well, then that was the best beer ever. I was feeling good from dos equis. Plus post race high. Plus (as some stranger pointed out) I was a tough turtle. :) I'd drink one more right now, but it is morning and there are lines that just shouldn't be crossed.

Moving on: So then we drove home. (duh). I took the longest shower ever. Relaxed and ready to eat a pizza to myself, I finally crack open a beer I had been saving for two months. New situation: home from a major event equals a major beer. I knew when I brought it home from Colorado that I would drink it only after tough mudder. A time and a place, my friends.

Anyway. I had planned to write a much more interesting post on a beer's time and place. An actual article or something rather. But, I'm totally cool with using the idea to write in the middle of the night.

I suppose I am all written out and the pain killer is kicking in, so off to bed with me.

reboot

As you may have noticed, some of my posts have disappeared. Or you may not have noticed because no one reads this but me anyway. So, I guess what I am saying is: "Self, just so you know, I have reverted many posts to draft until we figure out what to do with them."

While I want this blog just to be sort of a space for aimless musings, I do also want to have spaces that are slightly more focused. I kind of started out with an overwhelming goal or three. I wanted to academically explore the relationship video games have to couples and women. I wanted to write more fiction. I wanted to be hilarious and witty. Eh. Too overwhelming for me.

So here it is. I just want to write when I feel moved to write. If I have a particularly good day playing video games and have some thoughts about why that was, I am going to write about without burdening myself with having to look up articles and such to prove some kind of a point. I just don't have time in my life right now. If I have an idea for some fiction or have writers block and need some kind of outlet (that's how "rain" came about) then I will use this space. If I have some beer musings (I do want to write something about every beer having its time and place) or alcohololy thoughts, then those will definitely go here. Silly puppy things: sure!

Any who, no promises about how often I get to post. I do have to spend a lot of my time working, taking care of my house, planning my wedding, and being social (I love my friends).

In the meantime, I did start a blog for reviews of food, booze, booze events, and possibly my own kitchen (though I may start something separate for that since I love cooking so very much).

So there you have it. Hopefully I will actually write more now. I am supposed to be writing my vows, so you might actually see more posts here as I try to work my way through what I actually want to say to my beloved.

rain

Part One: Here comes the rain

A young man sat reveling in the darkness of his living room. He was slumped in a tattered, yet cozy leather chair pulled close to the fire. He lazily swirled his scotch as he thumbed through case files. He paused for a moment to take in the sound of the pouring rain. He laughed to himself a little at how cliche the evening was “a dark and stormy night...”

He liked these rainy nights, though. The pattering of raindrops drowned out his own thoughts and especially the chaotic night sounds of the West End. He liked his cozy little apartment, for the most part. Sure, it bordered Sacramento’s shadier side, but when you deal with shady folk, you have to be accessible. The life of a PI is never dull, but  lately always dark.

He also appreciated the access to the speakeasies, or blind pigs, depending how nice the joint was; they were a great place to meet the sort of clientele he worked with. People looking for something. People loose-lipped, lost, and pockets lined with cash. People who spoke in whispers. People who sometimes paid with booze. Sacramento was notoriously unsympathetic with this whole prohibition nonsense and living near the West End meant people openly traded and smuggled and paid in liquor.

He sipped his scotch. “This whole prohibition thing will never last,” he thought to himself. “Almost too bad.” He got a lot of business from the bootleggers and folks who lost their jobs when the two largest vineyards in the area closed. Bootleggers...they didn’t trust each other. He was constantly being hired to follow one or the other, giving information to whoever bid the most for his services, or provided the best alcohol. As for the other folk, they tended to get mixed up in transactions of the less reputable variety to help stay afloat. Good for business, but getting a little old and kind of depressing. Lucrative and lonely, being a man in his line of work. There was a time, he remembered, back before all of this. He got out more, saw friends, had a life. That ended some time ago...when she left. wicked little succubus...

He was ripped from his introspective downward spiral by a knock at the door. Uncertain whether it was his imagination, he hesitated. Not that he wasn’t used to clients coming to his home in the dead of night. He just wasn’t expecting anyone to brave this particular storm. So he waited. The knock came again, this time more insistent.

Begrudgingly, he lifted himself out of his chair. Careful to not set down his drink, of course. Late night visits often necessitated his rich, smoky beverage of choice. He shuffled to the door and slowly opened it.

A young woman stood at his door clutching her coat tight around her with one hand and a small suitcase in another. She was drenched. Fair skin and brown hair soaked with a mixture of storm and tears, her expression was a blend of hopefulness and sadness. And her face, well it was one he hadn’t seen in some time. Not since... well, anyway. He was surprised to find himself feeling rather happy to see her. She was a friend once. Back before the craziness happened in his life, driving him to a world of shadows and solitude. Back before his wife left and his connection to the real world shattered. The young woman at the door had once been a dear friend, in fact.

Through tears, she explained herself, pulling him once again out of his own thoughts and into the presence. “He’s gone.” she said, frantically. “He left, and with him he took my life. And,...she was with him. I’m sorry to come here like this, but I needed my friend. You said when we last spoke that if I ever needed anything...”

“Of course! Please come in. You know my home is always open to you. It always has been,” he found himself saying. Words that needed to be said. A comfort that needed to be offered. He guided her into his living room and sat her on the floor closest to the fire, and her suitcase on his worn chair. “let me grab you some towels and a warm drink.” He disappeared for a moment while the young women sat forlorn near the fire. The light danced along her face as the warmth slowly returned to her body. He returned with a pile of passably clean towels and a blanket that had soaked up the sweet stench of cigars. He wrapped them around her. Without saying a word he walked to his decanter and poured her a warm drink. Or rather, one that would warm her to her bones...and hopefully calm her enough so that she could tell him her whole story. At least what he hadn’t already pieced together at this point.

He handed her the glass. She took it, confused at the smell. He explained...”well, you know what they say about prohibition here in Sacramento: If you can’t find a drink, you’re dumber than a halfwit.” She giggled and took a sip. He hadn’t seen that smile in some time. The sight of it made him smile back.

“Now,” he said. “I’m not sure exactly what I can do for you. Normally my services are to track people down or learn secrets. You seem to know not only what happened, but also the parties involved.”

“it’s not that,” she said. “It isn’t really any of that.” She took another sip and grimaced, the smoky flavor hitting her harder on the second sip. “My life...I just don’t know. He left and stole it and I don’t know what I am supposed to be doing. I don’t want that back, not ever, but I feel lost. Something is lost...is it me?” The young man sighed and sat down next to her. “I know how you feel. I have felt that way myself, lately.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably. Not really sure how to handle such emotional pain. He looked into her blue eyes and just saw sadness. Sadness that just made him want to fix the world. Still not sure what exactly to do, especially because he was now confronted with his own demons of the past, he rubbed her arms and said, “you seem really tired. why don’t you get some rest, and we can talk in the morning?” She nodded. He guided her to his room, that was somehow miraculously in decent shape. At least it wasn’t embarrassing. He handed the young woman her suitcase and said “you can sleep here, II will stay in the living room tonight, and until we can find you more suitable accomodations” She smiled a tired thank you and hugged him long and tight before closed the door.

He slowly walked back into the living room to sit in his chair. He closed his eyes, and eventually sleep came, greeting him with a tumultuous flurry of memories.

Part Two: A new day

The man awoke to some rustling noises in his kitchen. Slightly disoriented, he slowly remembered why he was in his chair and who was probably in the kitchen. He got up and walked over to the small room the passed as his kitchen and saw his friend making tea. How she found the necessary items in that mess...he was unsure, but grateful. Somehow she had gotten up before him, straightened her hair, and changed into a clean dress, all without waking him. Or maybe she didn’t sleep at all, he thought. She looked exhausted.

They exchanged good mornings and then otherwise silently settled down to a small table for morning tea. By the second cup, they started chatting. He asked her to tell him all the details she knew about her current situation and why she felt she needed help finding her life. He searched the kitchen for a notebook, he left them in every room just in case, so that he could take notes should he deside to take the case. As she explained her story in greater detail, it became apparent that he was somewhat involved...at least his most recent past was somewhat involved.  that succubus had managed to ruin yet another life, he realized. Perhaps helping this young woman, his friend, may bring him resolution as well. Besides, he missed his friend and all of their conversations from a life long gone. “I’ll help you,” he said. “This will take a lot of talking and research,” he added. She nodded gratefully.

He added, “I could use your help, too. I lost my path some time ago and haven’t quite found it yet.” She reached out and grabbed his hand, “we will help each other heal. that is what friends do.”

From then on, every day, they talked. They talked through their pain. They shared stories. They endlessly poured over maps and talked about people and places, searching for where their lives had gone off track. For where their paths had gone astray.

These conversations continued for months. They talked about the past. Shared memories. good ones, bad ones. “Remember that when... .” Sometimes there was laughter and sometimes there were tears. They sat at the kitchen table, or in the living room, or by the window and listened to the rain while reliving the stories of before, while the pattering of the rain outside punctuated each high and low note, as though it were somehow a part of their own private cabaret.

One day, their chatter turned from past to present. Suddenly less tired and sad, their conversation changed its tone. “I haven’t been out in ages,” the young woman suddenly realized. They were sitting in the living room, lounging around with piles of books, one of the many ways they hid from the outside world. The young man suddenly sat up. “Are you up for somewhere I’m sure you’ve never been?” The young woman returned his question with a very interested expression. “Oh....?”

The young man stood up, walked to the door and grabbed their coats. “It’ll be a new experience for you, I promise. You’ll have to be quiet about it, but don’t be put off. We are going out for drinks.” The young woman followed him to the door, “I should probably be against this, but this seems like a fun way to break some rules...our living situation is already so questionable...so why not?”

“I have to warn you, this is a little bit of a dive,but I think it’ll be a great way for us to get out of the house and have a little fun. have you heard of a place called a blind tiger?”

***

A few hours later the two returned back to the apartment, laughing and talking, and just a little sauced. “so, you go to see a ‘circus animal’ and the bartender just hands you alcohol?” The young woman said laughingly as they came back in the door. “What a silly way to get around the law.” The young man replied, “I thought it would make you laugh. We’ll go to a nicer speakeasy next - I know one with a dress code. Then you can dress up a little and dance if you want. I have a friend with the password.”

Part Three: The rain has stopped.

And so the days went. The pair spent the week hard at work but the weeknights and weekends were for fun. Sometimes they went to symphony among the respectable, threw parties for the less reputable, and sometimes they donned darker clothing and headed out into the night for some prohibition defiance. The conversations over tea turned from “what ifs” and “what was,” to wants and hopes. To the now and the future. Sadness turned to laughter. And shared dreams led to better understanding.

The pair continued on in this fashion, finding happiness in each other’s company. Pain of past wrongs in their lives dulling and losing the sharp edge. No more whispers that that evil woman or heartless man, the lies and the cheating and past transgressions held little meaning beyond the fact that the pair wouldn’t be enjoying their time so much now had they not happened.

The friendship continued until one day, they found themselves sitting at the kitchen table, silently drinking tea, much like that first morning after the young woman came in from the storm. They held their teacups in both hands, drinking in the aroma and warmth of the liquid and allowing it to slowly reanimate them from a long week. Both minds wandering in the sleepy stupor of utter happiness, when they looked up at each other over their tea and were overwhelmed. Their eyes locked and they both came to  a silent, sudden realization. That life, the one that they had been searching for so desperately had been here all along. They had been sharing it together. Their value, their goals, their fun, their feelings, this whole time. Eyes locked, they saw each other for the first time. What they saw reflected in their eyes was not just of friendship and laughter, but something a stronger, something bigger, something deeper. Love. It had happened, and neither one could put their finger on exactly when. But there they were and they both knew, they belonged together. The life they were looking for was already there. It was theirs. It was their path, and one they would walk on together, forever. These feelings and realizations washed over them without either ever saying a word.

“You hear that?” She asked. “No,” he said. “The rain...it stopped.” He stood up and took her into his arms, enveloping her in a warm, loving hug. “I believed that it stopped some time ago,” he said, just before he kissed her for the first of many kisses.

My dog is a pretty pretty princess

My dog has recently decided that she is a pretty, pretty princess and I need to invest in a grooming table.

Yesterday, I came home from work and settled into a routine I haven't had for awhile because her coat has been so short: daily brushing. I haven't brushed her in a few weeks, actually. I grabbed her brush and started grooming her while she stood on her bed. Usually she is pretty good, but this time she started wrestling with me and trying to take the brush. A game, perhaps?

Apparently not. She just didn't want to be on the ground. I pulled the hair out of the brush from the first round and walked toward the kitchen to throw it in the trash and start again (determined to wrestle her into submission).

She followed me, prancing along in her perfect little poodle walk. While I was de-furring the brush, she hopped right up into one of our pub-height chairs. She just sat there, pretty as a picture with her stupid smiling face just looking at me. I walked over to her, ready to pull her down, but her tail started a little wag. She closed her mouth and gave me this, "I'm ready for my royal treatment. Love me," expression. I figured, "okay fine, I'll brush her up here."

Perfectly behaved. She turned her head right and left and cocked it at the right angle so I could brush her face and behind her ears. She didn't try to get the brush or wrestle, but she did have this look of bliss on her face. She stood up when I needed to brush her hind legs and belly and sat and gave me one paw at a time for her chest and front paws.

I don't even know. Apparently she refuses to be groomed on the floor now, but I am not complaining because it's easier for me. I can't wait to tell the groomers.

From Tough Mudder to Engagementmoon

(warning: this is just a mental dump. Unedited.)

Saturday, September 22, 2012 started out like any normal day. I was headed up to Northstar with my boyfriend to compete in the tough mudder challenge. 11 miles of fire, ice, mud, water, and numerous other obstacles. Totally normal day.

My brother, our friend Sarah, and I started out at 1:20pm. 4 brutal hours later, we finished. I was so banged up. Sunblock in my eyes the whole time. In and out of cold water. But I tried every single obstacle and succeeded on most.

We crossed the finish line, where my man was waiting and taking pictures of thewhole thing. (He actually got to a spot about an hour in and took pictures of the ice bath obstacle. I was so excited to see him, I ran over and gave him a kiss - best morale booster ever).

After some chaos, we finally made it to the surprise he had planned: He got us a little rental condo at a Squaw Valley ski resort. SO PRETTY. I showered for an epic 30 minutes or more, trying to get some of the the muck off of me. I was broken, tired, hungry, and coming down with a cold. Bruises everywhere, swollen eyes.

I got out of the bathroom....to dimmed lights, rose petals, champagne, cheese, and crackers. And a proposal.

Whaa???

He said that I wasn't just his tough mudder, I was the most adorable and fun person he had ever known and asked if he could keep me around forever, if I would like that. To which I said "I would totally love that!"

Just a normal saturday, right? lol

And now, I am sitting in a gorgeous condo on South Padre Island, TX...working (well, obvs right now I am blogging, but I have legit writer's block so I am doing this to get the juices flowing before I go back to my other project). I get to work with a view of the water. Go runningon the beach in the morning. Play in the ocean in the afternoon. And, best of all, I'm spending a week in paradise with my FIANCE.

Best idea ever, to get away right after you get engaged. Judging from the activity on my facebook page, it will be kind of crazy back at the office.

Funny, when I think about where I was in my life not just two years ago. Two years ago, I was engaged to someone else. Someone who turned out to be a total...psychopath. Sociopath? Not sure which one really. He left me, basically at the alter. But not before completely destroying me. I went from being a strong person to being totally dependent on him. I let him cut off my parents and even destroy a friendship before it started because he didn't like the girl (She is totally my best friend now). He left me for a woman I thought was my best friend. I ended up moving in with HER soon to be ex husband because she left him for my betrothed (weird, I know). The bizarre set of circumstances led me to where I am now. Totally happy. I feel like...I don't even know. It was meant to be.

The man I moved in with, whom I had known for years, as we were all friends, turned out to be my soulmate. I was so nervous about the living situation, I had never really  had a roommate before. But I moved in and everything clicked. We talked about everything and helped each other heal. We learned that we like most of the same things, had the same values and beliefs, and we were emotionally going through the same thing. We did EVERYTHING together. I brought him around all of my friends. We went on trips. I made him decorate for Christmas...lol. I found MYSELF. I started to do all of the things I loved. Things for ME that made me happy. I could be a better and happy person. Richard found he could do the same. Those happy, healthy people? We fell in love.

And then. well, we were dating. And living together as a couple.

Two years later. We have a lovely home. Good jobs. Each other. A puppy. and now engagement.

I guess. I guess what I feel is lucky and happy.

So, to my ex: I don't even hate you anymore. I honestly wish you had just left me sooner or I had kicked your butt to the curb so I could have been with my now-Fiance sooner. I feel like I wasted so much time. Richard was always there. I saw him all of the time. I wish I had known he was the one. So, you can keep your crappy memories, and broken home, and slutty wife. I have a shiny new world and I am finally able to be myself again. You were right when you said you were dragging me down. I'm not sure you believed it when you said it, but it was totally truth.

To my fiance: I love you so hard. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I never really knew what it was like to be loved until you. You give me strength and I can only hope that I do the same for you. In this next year of wedding planning, I know our relationship will only get stronger. Every day is an amazing new day to be happy and enjoy our lives together. Our relationship grew out of ashes, but sometimes you have to slash and burn to grow the most beautiful things. We were horribly hurt, but we healed each other. We were alone, but we took each other's hand and squeezed it so that we weren't. We started out on a journey together, as companions, partners, lovers, and friends. It's the best journey ever.

Sent My Caffeinated Doggy to The Groomers

I rolled out of bed this morning, thinking I would get an hour or so of work done before I took my 11-month-old puppy to the groomers. It is a real fancy place. Fancier than me. My dog gets more regular fancy cuts than me. Not to say that when i do get my hair done, I don't go to the best, because I really do. Just to say that Sierra gets her hair done every 5wks at a fancy-pants doggy salon.

Anywho, that isn't the point. The point is that I logged onto my work computer at the coffee table (one of my favorite places to work in the house). I grabbed a glass of iced tea with some sugar and a splash of milk. Set that down next to my computer. Walked away (there's my first mistake) to go pull my hair back and put on respectable working from home clothing (a Hamlet t-shirt and running tights).

That is when I hear it "clink clink clink." Crap. I rush out to the living room, "Sierra, LEAVE IT!" She looks at me, like "what, mom?"  She was half on the coffee table, half on the couch DRINKING MY ICED TEA. She drank half of the glass, no joke. She just walked casually away like nothing had happened. I got a new glass, and she eyeballed it the rest of the morning. Dammit. You never EVER introduce your puppy to caffeine and sugar.

So. Long story long, I feel really bad for the groomer.

Magical Items and Skeletons who drop the golds

Diablo III is out, folks. Well, officially for what, a week already now?

I have to say, I love this game. It combines like, four of my favorite things: Money grubbing, loot grabbing, monster thrashing,and co-op. Srlsy, I'm AWESOME at dungeon crawlers. I still remember playing the first one...all locked away in my dark bedroom with only the soft, evil glow of the computer screen to light up my mesmerized face.

Of course, I don't know how fun I am to play with. My boyfriend thinks I'm adorable, but I imagine my game tomfoolery probably just annoys the hell out of everyone else. BF seems to like my annoyingness (this is a word because I said it is). Most people run around killing things and silently gather their gold and loot, saving mention for when we go back to town to sell or trade. "Who needs a magical staff of plus 10 mutation?" Or something of the like. Me? Oh, no. I'm super excitable. Everytime a monster drops gold I squeal with glee, "MONIES!" And I mean, every time. Items? Almost as bad. If they are magical items, I definitely make people wait while I clear my inventory so I can pick them up. Cause, there is another thing, I COLLECT EVERYTHING TO SELL. Because, even 2 gp is worth my effort. mwahahahaha

I am really good at collecting shit and killing monsters, just sayin.

This saturday is beer and diablo day. We tried for last saturday, but we stayed up too late (5am) the night before playing rockband. I felt less than human on saturday. I think we got in maybe 4 hours of play total. One of my friends commented, "isn't it just the worst when your video game playing time gets in the way of your video game playing time?" I think he broke my brain.

MONIES!