Grandma was a naughty, naughty girl

The average run-of-the-mill stuffed animal gives me a raging case of the heebie jeebies. Those little beady eyes staring at me and FOLLOWING ME AROUND THE ROOM freak me out. So I guess it's a little out of character for me to like amigurumi. Maybe it has to do with my stint in Japan, or maybe it's because they are just so darn cute and satisfying to make.

Or, it could be because my latest project is a crocheted dildo:



Not your grandmother's afghan, is it?

Etsy may bankrupt me

I didn't send Christmas cards this year. I meant to, but time just kinda slipped by me and WOOPS, it's suddenly January 31 and "Happy Holidays!" doesn't really seem very applicable anymore.

I think I'll make up for it, though, with Valentine's cards from Etsy. These little cardboard lovebunnies make me want to grab the nearest bipedal humanoid and ask him or her to be mine forever. Just so that I have a reason to buy the card. And then I'd run away because ONLY A CRAZY PERSON EXPRESSES ETERNAL LOVE TO A STRANGER.

Well, now that I think about it, I guess Jesus also did that. So, either a crazy person or Jesus.

But how do you cross the street?

My first visit to India changed my life, and I don't mean that in the way that Oprah's life gets changed every week. (How many times a month can your life change, anyway?) I mean that I decided not to go to grad school because, after studying all things India for my BA, I got there and couldn't cross the street.

I COULDN'T CROSS THE FREAKING STREET.

WTF: Googling the fatosphere

You may not be suprised to learn that quite a few people google "fat" or "fat chick" or "fat chick musings" or "fat" and all manner of word combinations and waaa laaa find my blog.

However, there are other - strange, bizarre and sometimes even shocking, although most are just silly - google, yahoo, and aol searches that will list Musings of a Fat Chick.

I recently found this one on sitemeter: "Armani ornament fat opera."

And wouldn't you know it: Musings had the most coveted spot on the results list?!?! Funny thing, that Google algorithm.

Tis got me wondering: Does Armani makes a fat opera singer Christmas tree ornament? And how do I get one? And if not, what was my reader actually looking for?

Here are my other favorite Google searches:

• "dripping wet" reviews
(After I posted my year in review, I saw traffic spike. A very quick analysis showed that the porn blog aggregators had picked up my blog... All because I used the words "dripping wet." My apologies if my blog doesn't... meet your expectations.)

• blog i put my new shoes on
(Do people really blog about donning shoes?)

• falling in love with a fat chick
(Awwwwww!!!)

• fat chick scuba
(I want to state this very clearly: YES, FAT CHICKS DIVE!)

• her fat loud farts
(Ewwwww!!!)

• internet dating how often to email
(Don't we all struggle with that one?!)

• passive aggressive truth
(I'm way to nihilistic to touch this one.)

• rubenesque beauty
(Why yes, yes indeed, I am.)

• snort laughing audio clip
(Ok, that is just wierd, to go looking for an audio clip of someone snort laughing. When it happens, its funny, but to actually take time out of your life to look for an audio clip? Wierd.)

• south loop coat attendant
(Sounds like a Craigslist "Missed Connections" post.)

Hooghly Versus The Walls

When I bought my condo, the greenish white paint on the walls disturbed me. It was the single most hideous shade of off-white I’d ever seen, and so I made the trek to Home Depot and bought several gallons of the second brightest shade of real white they had. After three coats, a nervous breakdown, and more paint in my hair than on the walls, I was pleased with the results.

Hooghly, my gray cat, was not.

Hooghly declared war on my uber-white walls. Three years later, they continue to antagonize her. She hisses, she spits, she claws. She stalks the hallways menacingly. She attacks. Brutally.

Unfortunately, her antics inspire no discernable reaction from her opponent. She has, in fact, inflicted more injuries on herself than the walls. They are surprisingly inflexible and flat, and don’t care in the slightest when she lunges at them.

I try to stop her. I try to explain to her that the walls may be mean and cruel and unkind, but they are also aloof and indifferent to her suffering. I tell my dear Hooghly to be patient. In time, the walls will stop being so white and start being more agreeable.

But then when she goes on yet another rampage, I console myself with the thought that at least she has forgiven the lamps. Granted, she had to break two of them (the only two that matched) and scatter the pieces everywhere, but at least that’s over with and she’s moved on to enemies of a non-breakable species.

Baby-making man-gravy

I first learned about these giggle factories, also known as "You Suck at Photoshop" videos, from Boing Boing. You really should watch them in order, since there is a story - of sorts - going on in them.

But seriously, however you watch them, I'd like to offer you this piece of advice (which I wish had been given to me): DO NOT WATCH THEM WITH A FULL BLADDER! Trust me on this one, you'll regret it if you drink that latte.

This is the 4th in the series; all 4 can be found here.

On Mindfulness

When I am underwater, I am totally, completely, absolutely alive. In those few short moments, I am living in the present, with no thoughts of the future, past, or any person, place, or thing not within my immediate sight.

I am conscious of my breath, and how it affects my movements in the water. I am conscious of my depth, and how I move along several planes at once. I am conscious of the otherworldly beauty around me.

I am mindful.

I used to long to take some of that peace and wellness and awe and joy and wonder and amazement into my daily life. At other times, I have complained bitterly that I can't quit my job and spend my life on a liveaboard in Southeast Asia.

Now, though, I recognize that, rather than have diving become my life, it is the sense of mindfulness that I would like in the rest of my life.

As in everything else, there are other, wiser, teachers who can lead me in my journey. One is a friend, another is a world-renowned Buddhist monk and peace advocate, Thich Nhat Hanh. I invite and encourage my dear readers to read and listen to their beautiful messages.

Holy Mary mother of God it's freaking COLD

Me: It's too cold and I don't like it, not at all not even a little bit. DO SOMETHING! Make it go away!

E: Ok, but it'll take me a few months.

Almost as good as bubble wrap

Bloons is cool because it isn't violent, the baloons make a satisfying little noise when they pop, and there is a monkey. Enjoy.

Barefoot And Fabulous

I attended a party recently, with no time between work and the soirée. This meant that my work outfit had to do double duty as party digs. After spending a frustrating hour trying to find an outfit that would be appropriate for both a conservative work environment and a night out on the town, I said, “To hell with it!” I strutted out of chez Fat Chick at 6AM, wearing a flashy dress and my favorite 3 ½ inchers, feeling fabulous.

By 9PM, I had:

• Worked for 8 hours;
• Walked 12 blocks;
• Shopped;
• Danced for over an hour;
• Climbed up and down steep stairs several times; and
• Mingled for about 3 hours.

It was at this point that my shoes had lost their status as favorites and had become Unholy Tormentors From Dante’s Fifth Level of Hell. Seeing as how I had several more hours of out-on-the-town left in me, I did the only thing a rational adult lacking ibuprofen would do: I removed said Tormentors, and walked around, danced, climbed up and down stairs, and mingled in my nylons, still feeling fabulous.

At about 9:30, I noticed three guys smirking at me, one of whom was looking pointedly at my toes. I smiled, and in my most charming voice, said:

“Have you ever worn 3 ½ inch heels for 15 hours? No? Well, when you do, then – and only then – do you get to laugh at me.”

And then I went right back to the party.

How do you appraise a home, anyway?

When I refinanced my condo, I thought the formula used to determine its value was sterile, flawed. The appraiser didn’t take into account the lake view that is more a dynamic piece of art than a scene outside my window, the balcony where birds chill (and drive my cats insane) during the spring migration, the stairs that my cats love to run up and down, the park across the street where I watch the sunrise before I go to work, or the coffee house where I chat with neighbors every Sunday.

How could you put a price tag on all that wonderful?

WTF III: On Being a Fat Chick

For some reason completely outside my ability to understand, my blog keeps getting bookmarked with the tag “Weight Loss.”

WTF?!?!

I have never, ever, blogged about weight loss! It’s like as soon as a new, well-meaninged and much appreciated reader notices the word “fat” in the title, they’re like “lose the lard.” I don’t know whether to be flattered that my site was bookmarked, or insulted that the tag chosen was more a statement on “fat” than my blog. Socially ingrained word association of the intolerant sort, is what I call it.

Other readers, predominantly women and predominantly Rubenesque (all self-proclaimed, I’d like to add), have emailed to ask why I write about random stuff. The thought is that this would seemingly be the perfect soap box from which to share with the world what it’s like to be a fat chick.

The truth is, I am sharing with the world what it is like to be a fat chick, what it’s like to be this fat chick. My life is random, filled with random wonderful stuff, so I write about that. I travel, therefore I write. I date, so I write about that (and so far, dating hasn’t been altogether wonderful). I love to patronize restaurants with fine décor and even finer employees, so I blather on about that. Chicago is the mostest greatestest city in the world, it is my Home, and so of course I type buckets about it. I have friends galore and a beloved or two, so, naturally, they are first and foremost on my mind and in my blog.

It’s my life, people, and – SURPRISE! – it’s not even remotely defined by my dress size.

Yet, I do see their point: I call myself FC, but never muse specifically about the F. So, to make inquiring minds a little more fulfilled, I will give it up and give it daaaamn good: Some meanderings on the “Fat” in Fat Chick are soon to be posted. And, since I’m willing to share, I ask that my readers be willing, too: Leave a comment or two, and keep those emails coming.

PS: If you are expecting sad lamentations on the sorry state of fat chicks everywhere, you will be so very, very disappointed. My life rocks. I like me. I think I’m A-OK. I always have and I always will.

Just A Thought

I’ve calculated the age of the universe, dove with dolphins, bought a condo, visited the Taj Mahal, eaten raw chicken, and read all of the Harry Potter books.

Life really is unpredictable.

It's January. Again.

I haven't donned mask, fins, and snorkel since October, and so it usually happens that about this time of year, I get the diver's version of cabin fever. Antsy. I pull out my dive gear, dust things off a bit. I check online retailers, and calculate, once again, how much that new regulator would cost me (and if I'm going to buy one, why not just go for it and get an Apex?). I watch a lot of YouTube dive videos. I map shipwrecks on Google Earth, and read the same articles - over and over again - on the Andrea Doria. I thumb through Great Lakes dive guides, mentally planning my summer.

I sigh a lot.

This year, though, my mid-January putterings are more focused on one specific island and its surrounding waters. You see, I have a real winter treat to look forward to: A dive trip to Bonaire.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Bonaire, this video is long, but definitely worth the watch. (I know because I've watched it umpteen times.) And for those of you who are familiar with the Bonaire-ian flora and fauna: That isn't a sweetlips at 2:46, is it? Sweetlips are only in Asia, so what is it? And mad props to the first person who ID's the invasive species.

Natsukashii!!!

People often ask me, "What do you miss most about Japan?" I usually give different answers (because I'm fickle like that). Right now, I miss all that stuff that defies translation. That quintessential "Oh, right, because it's Japan" moment that, unless you've lived there, you just don't get. Cultural koans, if you will.

The sign in this photo translates as, "Thank you for always using this hallway."


Many thanks to Van for her amazing photography!

Exit Strategies I: Not a Big Deal

I have been talking with some of my male friends about dating faux pas and what they see as a woman’s deal breaker. Interestingly, I’ve been on the other side of the table when these very same embarrassments happened to a guy and thought nothing of it. It was a real eye-opener to hear a Y tell me what he thinks is a girl’s exit strategy when, in fact, most aren’t:

1. The dropsies. I have been on numerous first dates with guys who drop things, fall, and are just generally gravity-challenged. I think it is adorable that the guy is nervous, and it makes me like him.

2. Snort laughing. Again, adorable, and yes, I sometimes snort laugh, too.

3. Strategic use of profanity. I truly believe that, in order to make a point most effectively, you need to drop the F-bomb from time to time.

4. Arriving late. Well, not too late, but later than me by 5 minutes is ok. I ride the CTA, so I understand how that goes.

5. Renting. Believe me, when I compare rent prices to my mortgage, I loathe myself for taking the home-ownership leap.

6. College degreeless. I took an informal girly-poll, and found that this isn’t a deal breaker per se. If a guy doesn’t have a degree then he must meet two requirements: First, he must be successful (in which case his work ethic and real-world education will be considered incredibly sexy) and second, he must like to read.

7. Multi-dating. Some guys make it a point to state they are not playing the field. Liar. In the age of e-dating, we thirty-somethings are all jugglers. This should remain an unspoken understanding.

8. Boob checks. While tit-perverts are a turn off for most women, I happen to think my girls are two of my best assets and therefore kinda like the occasional glance below the neckline.

9. Height. If a guy tells me he is 6’2”, then I just might wear my big girl shoes. If these make me taller than him, it can get a little uncomfortable for both of us. Be honest about your height.

10. Friends. OK, it is wise to chose a place that isn’t frequented by drunken frat brothers (especially after the age of 30), but it does sometimes happen that we’ll run into Belligerent Bob. This can be rectified with hasty apologies and a bee line for the door.

2007, The Year In Review Part II: All Toweled Off

Here’s my land lubbing top 10 of 2007 (again in no particular order – these apples and oranges couldn’t fit in a ranking matrix, so you get to decide which was good, gooder and goodest):

1. Visiting Peru, particularly Machu Picchu (you knew that was coming), listening to a woman tell me her story in Cuzco and hearing Mass celebrated in Quechua, the language of the Incas, in Pisac. So much beautiful in such a short trip!

2. Being forgiven. I was an absolute jerk to a friend of mine, so I called to apologize. I wanted to beg absolution in person, but if I did then I knew I’d get all weepy and I hate public bawling and who wants to see a girl cry, anyway? My friend forgave me, understood why I didn’t approach him face-to-face, and even said things to make the whole experience easier on me. All this speaks volumes about his character.

3. My very pink birthday cake. It was two tiers of chocolate cake and chocolate butter cream frosting, and entirely pink (of course). Covered in pink fondant, my happy birthday sported charming edible flowers in different shades of – you guessed it –pink.

4. Looking around me at all the uber-cool people in my life. It really does knock my socks off how phenomenal my friends are. While I’ll never understand why I’m so fortunate as to have the greatest people in the world choose nut-job me as a comrade, I’ll always be grateful. Thanks, peeps!

5. Meeting two men that I actually dug, even if they weren’t into me. At least now I know that Amazing is still out there.

6. Going to a Cubs game with my nephew. It was the most fun I’ve had at a Cubs game ever, and it was probably so entertaining because my nephew was 12, I acted like I was 12, and we had a laser pointer. It was like a perfect storm for belly-laughs. To hell with being a grown-up!

7. The Chemical Brothers concert. It was a great show, one of the top concerts of my life. Their newest album is really good, too. I highly recommend both.

8. Getting addicted to blogging. I really like this whole blogging thing, and many big thanks to my readers!!!

9. Susan. While her death – her suicide – was awfulness, it certainly was a 2007 highlight of sorts. Although I can’t go back in time and change the terribly sad decision she made, I can do my best to let those I love know that I am here for them if and when they need me.

10. (Sorry, but you’ll only understand this one if you already know.) Markus exists!!!

2007, The Year In Review Part I: Dripping Wet

While I was writing my top 10 of 2007, I struggled with a problem: There were way more than ten highlights of my year. I noticed the events that I deemed superb fell naturally into two categories: Above ground and underwater.

So, here’s my submerged top 10 of 2007, in no particular order. The highlights of my year in dry clothes will be posted shortly.

1. Having my skills and coolness challenged at the bottom of Lake Michigan. I was at 121 feet underwater on our second dive of the day when my gear malfunctioned. I learned volumes from the experience and, later, from the instructors who generously debriefed with me.

2. Diving the Wisconsin. (Yes, that was the wreck in #1 above.) The Wisconsin is a true ghost ship, sitting upright in cold, dark water. The dive felt otherworldly, like we were suspended in a vortex in time and space. (Admittedly, the nitrogen narcosis could have had something to do it!)

3. Hanging with Jaws. Sharks are magnificent creatures, absolutely magnificent. I still feel honored and humbled that these beautiful animals chose to swim with us.

4. Getting lost in the Caribbean. The reef we “found” was pristine, with enormous soft corals and abundant, healthy marine life. The fish swam right up to us, totally checking out the two bubble-blowing land creatures invading their surf. Unforgettable.

5. Diving at Bonne Terre Mines. I collected a few rocks and did a little mining, using the pick-axes left behind when the mine closed.

6. Diving the Material Service Barge in 40-60 foot visibility. On that first trip of the season, the great visibility welcomed me back to my favorite shipwreck after a much too long winter hiatus. I felt like Lake Michigan was my oyster.

7. Cozumel. I dove Cozumel before Hurricane Wilma, and again in 2007. The carnage from the hurricane was heartbreaking, but there was new life everywhere, growing on everything. The reefs may have been damaged, but Mother Nature wasn’t so cruel as to destroy them. I look forward to going back in 2017.

8. The Ladies Get Wet Weekend. It was such a treat to dive with other women! And, what with me being a bit of a rebel, part of my enjoyment of the weekend was diving with a boy: My nephew. He is such a cool kid!

9. Getting up close and personal with an octopus. Ahhhh… Beauty and grace in an 8-armed bad ass. Invertebrates rock!

10. Seeing our dive club grow by leaps and bounds, in terms of both active members and activities. What’s even cooler is that more and more people are stepping up to make the group even better than it already is. That, my friends, is awesomeness.

2008: New Year’s Resolutions

Ok, I must confess that I’ve made all the usual resolutions…… and have failed miserably. You could even call me a New Year’s resolution drop out, as I’ve never made it to the next countdown still hanging on, even by a thread.

Still, I do believe one should always strive for self-improvement. So, in the spirit of fresh starts and renewed invigoration, I give you my New Year’s resolutions, v08:

1. Increase my intake of antioxidants. Whether it be through vitamins, chocolate, green tea or tomatoes, I am going to up my ingestion of free radical fighters.

2. Spend more time with my cats. I’ll spare you the gory details (and be grateful for it), but I find that when I am not home enough, my relationship with my owners spirals towards hell at an alarming velocity.

3. Realign my priorities so that I spend the bulk of my energy on those activities that provide the greatest meaning and reward. In marketing-speak, work on the 20% that have the greatest ROI. (Yes, I have specifics in mind, but none that my readers would care to know.)

4. Tell my beloveds just how much I love them. Often.

5. Work towards living on a reasonable budget. For me, this is all about a journey, not so much about the destination.

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