The Adnostic

I promised myself that once I left my last job that I would blog about more personal and major life events on this blog, mostly to keep the ambient intimacy going with friends I don't talk to as much as I would like. Being able to broadcast and share your life is one of the major benefits of blogging and web 2.0 in general.

My sister's wedding is this weekend. Dave bought a suit for the first time in ten years just for the occasion and I have to admit that he looks dead sexy in it. I pulled out a silk Shelly Segal dress from my closet and loaded up on accessories - new black satin peep-toe heels, jet crystal earrings, a black satin clutch, and a satin bolero jacket (I'm still on the fence about the jacket, I may switch it out for a pashmina wrap at the last minute). The purchases were ill advised considering my lack of steady income, but my sister will only be getting married once. Right?

I'll be driving up to San Francisco by myself, picking up Dave from the airport, and driving the rest of the way to Calistoga together until we reach this quaint little slice of weekend heaven:

It looks a little too Laura Ashley for my taste, but for just a few days on my parents dime, I'd be crazy to turn it down.

Aside from the rehearsal and the actual wedding, Dave and I (crossing fingers) will be left to our own devices. I'm going to try to play it fast and loose, which is very unlike me. I can usually be counted on to have trips like this planned down to the minute, but this time I only have two items on the itinerary:

- Acme Fine Wines in Napa - I met the proprietors when I helped out as a roadie for my friend's band at the Napa wine auction a few years ago. They were volunteers at the event assigned to the green room. We really hit it off and they invited my friend and I to drop by their store before we left the next day. Most of their stock was way out of my price range, but they turned me on to two good bottles under $30 that were way better than anything I could have picked out for myself.
Karen, one of the owners, said that if I was ever in Napa again to give them a call and about a week ago I did just that.

- Hopmonk Tavern in Sebastopol - This is actually a gastropub launched by Dean Biersch of Gordon-Biersch fame. A friend of mine who is about to publish a book on American microbreweries turned us on to it. I know that it seems kind of pointless to specifically seek out a place for obscure European and domestic microbrews when you're in the wine capitol of North America, but Dave loves beer and I love doing the unexpected. So in that light, it makes perfect sense.

Then there is the wedding. It will be very traditional, rest assured. Leah doesn't do much that doesn't follow the rules. The dress will be Wang (consignment natch) (the marriage may be mixed, but the Isaacsons are still Jewish). The bridesmaids dresses will be J. Crew. The colors will be a very 90's combination of chocolate brown and light blue. The wedding will be at a winery with a beautiful outdoor setting.

And the reception will be in the wine cellar (Dave will have a hard time with the lighting for photos, but c'est la vie).

I'm looking forward to the event. Tom is going to make a great addition to the family and it will be good to see the whole family at an event that involves caterers with a distinct absence of turkey and pumpkin pie. I have been promised that I will have most of the weekend free to spend with Dave, but he's bringing a book just in case. He knows my family all too well.

A while back I went in for my annual physical only to find out that I had gained three pounds and that my cholesterol was at 210. "Diet and exercise," said my doctor. "Diet and exercise, and get another blood test in a month."

Crap. I'm not the twenty-something that could eat whatever she wanted (within reason), ride a horse once a week, and stay fit and healthy. This is the sign, people - I am about to turn thirty.

The problem is that I am the terrible combination of being a decadent eater (which is only exacerbated by my relationship with another foodie) and a physical activity hater. I have only enjoyed one sport my entire life and that is horseback riding, which is both too expensive and time prohibitive to dedicate more than once a week to for the time being. This knowledge led me to the conclusion that I would have to do one of two things:

A) Start jogging (self torture)

B) Join a gym (self torture with other masochists) (I'm not about to call people with the same gym membership as myself "friends" or even "fellows")

Joining a gym costs money that could be better spent on plane tickets to Vancouver and lacey undergarments. The cost of entry for running is a quick $80 at Target for athletic wear and $50 on a new pair cross-trainer shoes (in case I ever change my mind about the gym). So jogging it is.

Now my only problem is pushing myself out the door often enough to make a difference. I can be an excellent slacker with little help or motivation, but I am trying to counteract the natural pull of latency. I went for my first run on Sunday and another round of DIY punishment today. Go me.

Normally I would have just said "screw it" and let my sneakers collect dust in the closet, but this time I've found it easier to hit the pavement. I think it's because I have good reasons to be in better shape. Part of it is to get more out of riding. I would like to be able to have a riding lesson without feeling weak and winded half way through a course of fences. Part of it is my health. I have never had a cholesterol level above 200 before and I am too young to have an active concern about heart disease. But, I think the biggest reason is the Zen Master. I would like to be able to go roller blading and hiking with him and be able to keep up and not have him slow down on my account. I want to be healthy and stay in shape for him. He deserves to keep the trim and fit girl he met in Austin, and hopefully never have just "more to love."

It’s hard to just submit to gravity with reasons like that.

My sister and I usually get our father's hand me down gadgets. My Palm Pilot, once his. My sister's cell phone, it has "Dad" written all over it. Our printers, good old Dad. Our computers in college, courtesy of our father's never ending quest for the latest technology. But recently, there has been a break in the pattern of giving and receiving. My Dad upgraded to the Video iPod and gave his old device of audio goodness to my mother.

Wah? My mother?!!! The woman who I had to painfully walk through, step by step, her online shopping experience. My source of life who has 300 unread messages in her inbox, 99.9% of which is junk mail that she voluntarily signed up for. The woman who can barely use her cell phone. My Mom, whom I love dearly, who called me in a fit of desperation while I was AT WORK asking me how to buy replacement china on eBay, gets an iPod. This is so not fair.

What makes it worse is that Mom does not have much use for it. She would much rather damage her brain with right wing conservative talk radio, but there have been times that she has made use of her little white rectangle of joy. These times have almost always been an effort to connect with me through popular music or to simply swoon. As for myself, I just call it torture. This is when she will listen to Il Divo on a continuous loop.

Apparently I am not the only fruit of someone's loins who has to deal with this national phenomenon known as the "mature" boy band. Some progeny have been so unlucky as to have to escort their mothers to an actual Il Divo concert.

Me? I am not nearly so unlucky. I am merely burdened with a mild sense of misfortune because my mother has asked that I get her the new Il Divo CD for her birthday.

What's worse? One Il Divo CD on a continuous loop, or two. There must be some kind of human rights violation here.

After Ruby suffering a brief brush with death by the hand of my mother from attempting to chew a hole through the kitchen door during a bout of extreme separation anxiety, the vet has decided to try something with her no other Isaacson dog has tried before - psychotropic drugs.

Ruby is now enjoying the benefits of Puppy Prozac and Mom is seriously considering a pet psychotherapist. We are now one of those pet owning families.

Next thing you know, Mom will be insisting that she take the dogs everywhere she goes. Sweaters and rain booties are not far behind. Gourmet pet food? Sure, why not? My parents are empty nesters they can afford the extravagance. Doggie Day Care here we come! While we're at it, we should take the dogs to a pet psychic to open up the conversation both ways. Then Mom will have to make a reservation at a dog camp for the summer and she better act quickly, the best ones fill up early. And you know doggie birthday parties are certainly on the agenda.

I wonder if Epicurious has a recipe for a MilkBone cake?

Mom and Dad went to San Diego on Saturday and came back with a fawn colored retired racing Greyhound puppy formerly known as Pinch, but Mom has decided to call her Ruby. Isn't she just the cutest?

She's very friendly, a little too skinny (we're working on that), loves people, fears cars and stairs (we're working on that too), and is still learning where the bathroom is located. Outside, Ruby. Doggie related pee and poo events always occur outside. Always. While you're at it, quit pulling things off the counter tops. If you were meant to have the things on the counter tops, they would be located closer to the floor.

Last night my mom came home to find our dog, Abby, collapsed on the hallway floor. She had lost almost all motor function in her hind end. We tried to get her up and moving again, but the poor thing could barely take a step. We put a sling around her belly to help support her hind end, but it was still obvious that she had lost any ability to move her back legs and no amount of assistance was going to change that.

So Mom laid Abby down in her bed in the kitchen and cooked her up some chicken for dinner. The only thing I saw her move again for was the chicken. Otherwise she just lay there breathing heavily, looking everywhere, but lying perfectly still otherwise.

Abby has been getting weaker and weaker for a while now, (collapsing on the driveway, struggling to climb the stairs) but this was first time Mom started seriously considering putting her down. If she doesn't show any improvement today then she will sleep. I hope that in her dreams she is free. She's always been too timid to be truly free.
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Adendum 9/26/05

Abby isn't getting any better. I'll be leaving work early to be there for my Mom when the vet comes to put Abby down.