Monday, February 28, 2005

Late bloomer

Yesterday was the first day I've missed blogging since I started. And for a very special reason. Excuse the sentiment in this post, but I hope you understand.

Yesterday, I did something I've never done before. A rite of passage, if you will. Something that girls dream of and long for, a step towards womanhood and maturity, a coming of age...I spent a long time weighing the pros and cons - "Is this the right time? Am I ready? Am I sure I want this?" - I asked friends for their opinions.

It was a sunny day, yesterday, when I made my decision. We were strolling in Multnomah Village, Tyka and I, when I realized that now is the time. These sorts of things don't benefit by being put off. When you're ready, you're ready, and you know it. No sense in waiting.

So I did it. I took the plunge. I embraced my femininity. I got my ears pierced.

Saturday, February 26, 2005

Mr. Magoo

Ah, the lighter side of Orthodoxy. Have you ever laughed uncontrollably in church? Maybe you're going to the wrong one. Let me take this chance to tell you a little about the Orthodox Church, and why, if you're a person who is easily amused, you should consider attending one.

1. We sing in awkwardly translated metaphors. Hungry? Try the 'corn of foregiveness.' Want to return to a more agrarian life? Try a threshing/winnowing/chaff metaphor. Feeling at loose ends? Try 'lock me up in your storehouse and save me.' And that was all tonight!

2. Feel like church is too serious? Are all those vestments making you feel like it's a bit stuffy? Invite a visiting priest who looks like Mr. Magoo!

3. As it is unexpectedly announced that Fr. Magoo will be giving a talk, beat a hasty retreat to the door, speed-crossing yourself in an attempt to get out before friends' dad/regular priest sees you. Increase speed as he calls out 'no sneaking out the back, girls!' Realize that one of Tyka's brothers (who is in our charge tonight) is stuck as an acolyte and can't make it out in time! Hide in basement, listening to Fr. Magoo drone over speakers, while brother #2 capers.

Rest assured that this blog will continue to feature the lighter side of the troparia as we set sail on the sea of the great fast. Coming attractions: the holy and mercenary healers! Doubting Thomas' inquisitive right hand! Mystically clapping hands! Stay tuned!

Libations

Because I'm feeling organized (what's new?):

I performed my libations by:
1. finally showering. It's not like I was all dirty and smelly (although no one was around to tell me if I was) and as a whole I think we shower too much, but I'd like to take this opportunity to offer up my sincere appreciation for Indoor Plumbing and Hot Water. I'd also like to thank Weekends Off, which made this shower possible through a grant of Sleeping In and Free Time. (Resolution #4)

2. partaking in a leisurely pot of B&B, my Saturday morning libation of choice. Even though all that cream probably wasn't good for my cold.

I also successfully completed Resolution #1 by baking and consuming a slice of heaven. Well, several slices. Well, all of it. Gradually.

For those of you who Love Mail, this is the book for you. It is based on, and I quote, A True Story about Boxes. What could be more charming? Read it. Read it to someone else. Repeat. (Cause that's what we do here.)

While we're on the topic of shipping, let's talk about why delivery persons see fit to hide boxes in our recycling bin. Yes, it prevents passers-by from thinking 'I wish that was for me - let's take it!' but it could also prevent us, the intended recipients, from discovering said box. I was awoken the other morning by a banging on my door, I rushed in my pajamas to see who it was, I shouted after the courier ("HEY!!") lest he depart with any packages requiring signatures, and he informed me that it was in the overturned recycling bin. Where it would have remained until the next recycling day, alone and sad. Possibly molding, although we've been short on rain. Fortunately, the next time this happened (with the competition company) I was already onto their tricks. What was in the box? Natural goodness.

This entry brought to you by the melodic sounds of our washer and Cowboy Junkies (why is it that I can only handle listening to one of their albums?)

Friday, February 25, 2005

Sushi for one

Eating out alone: yea or nay?

I've always been fine with eating out alone, but I know people who think of it as something to be avoided at all costs. But come on, my book is going to keep me company whether I'm at my own table with leftovers or sitting next to strangers at the baggage carousel of sushi.

Plus my inner non-conformist enjoys going out alone on a Friday night. Nice fat book tucked under my arm. And you can squeeze into the weird little spots along the carousel. Get your salmon fix.

I'm a little low on the wit and banter today, folks. As you can see below, today got off to a great start. It got even better when I realized by body is giving in to Round Three of The Cold/Flu. Hopefully a good night's sleep will cure this (like water off a duck's back! Get away from me!)

I'm on the red couch with Tyka's laptop and some throat coat tea. Oh, did I just figure out how easy links are? I sure did! Now if we can just get this blog rolling...one step at a time, people, one step at a time! And the internets will be mine! I'm also listening to Ryan Adams courtesy of poppymom and her musical selections (because I'm too damn lazy to get off this couch and put on a CD).

If I survive the night, I plan on doing the following tomorrow:
1. making an apple oven pancake. Eggy, appley goodness
2. purchasing yarn in a shade known as aubergine, in order to finish a scarf and reclaim my knitting needles
3. cleaning relics of our childhoods out of a closet, with my sister (I had the urge to turn "sister" into a link, but what could I link her to? Ahh...how about this, middle child of my heart?)
4. sleeping in, with a clear conscience.

The world on time

For those of you who get a kick out of me swearing...you SO should've been around when I woke up this morning. You would've had a field day.

7:30 am - when I'm supposed to get up, in order to shower and eat breakfast.
8:00 am - when I normally leave for work on Fridays.
8:30 am - when I normally arrive at work on Fridays, being the person with the key.
9:00 am - when I'm supposed to unlock the door at work with aforementioned key.
Proceed with day.

But no, today looked more like this:
8:50 am - awaken. Take note of sunlight coming through window.
8:51 am - swear profusely.
8:52-:55 am - begin calling people - my manager, the business park, dispatch. Explain situation in croaky morning voice. Repeat.
8:55-9:00 am - brush teeth, dress, run to car. Begin lamenting lack of morning shower, breakfast, and ability to wake up in time.
9:00-9:20 am - drive recklessly whilst engaging in inane conversations with myself. Berate fellow drivers.
9:22 am - open doors.

Can I go to bed now? Too bad I have to close tonight, too.

Anyone wanna have sushi with me?

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Courtesy of Poppy

And by "been to" I can mean anything from "sat in the airport for a few hours" to "spent a few weeks there."

bold the states you've been to, underline the states you've lived in and italicize the state you're in now...
Alabama / Alaska / Arizona / Arkansas / California / Colorado / Connecticut / Delaware / Florida / Georgia / Hawaii / Idaho / Illinois / Indiana / Iowa / Kansas / Kentucky / Louisiana / Maine / Maryland / Massachusetts / Michigan / Minnesota / Mississippi / Missouri / Montana / Nebraska / Nevada / New Hampshire / New Jersey / New Mexico / New York / North Carolina / North Dakota / Ohio / Oklahoma / Oregon / Pennsylvania / Rhode Island / South Carolina / South Dakota / Tennessee / Texas / Utah / Vermont / Virginia / Washington / West Virginia / Wisconsin / Wyoming / Washington D.C /
Go HERE to have a form generate the HTML for you.

Furbish

I'm inside. I want to be outside. But I'm at work and outside is a business park - ie, ugly. Oh, but the sunshine! Only two more hours and then I'm released into the wild. For a few hours at least, in an odd break between jobs. Then I can walk in freedom in my yuppie neighborhood. Have I mentioned how much I love my neighborhood? Much.

I'm within four blocks of such delights as the "friendliest" grocery store in Portland, a great coffee shop, Grand Central Bakery, a library (which I do not use, since I already spend half my working life in a library, but I could use it if I wanted to), a Thai restaurant, a big park...Not to mention Furbish! Oh Furbish, how I love your name. Furbish itself is really boring - janitorial supplies - but the name! In an ideal world, there would be two little shops who lived next door to each other. And their names would be Garish & Tweed and Furbish. In the not-so-ideal world, Furbish is my neighbor. And I'm not a shop, just a blog, that occasionally gets written near Furbish.

Back to my neighborhood - I will partake of its joys this afternoon. I will stroll, I will frolic. I will soak up some Vitamin D (does one soak Vitamin D? Enlighten me).

I think my 10 minute break was over a few minutes ago.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Aged carrots

I'm eating some carrots for a snack at work. I have snack time, did you know that? Doesn't it sound like kindergarten? But that's what I call my breaks - snack time. Because that's what they're for. My schedule is wonky enough that some days I can squeeze in lunch before leaving for job 1 at 12:30, but sometimes I'm just not hungry then. So I take my break about now and have a snack. Then I go to job 2 at dinner time, or what would be dinner time if I didn't have this weird schedule and 2 jobs. Because both are part-time, neither one gives me a real lunch break on these split days. So then about 7 or 8 pm, I have another snack at job 2. All this snacking can really take it out of you and I come home hungry/tired at 9 pm.

But the carrots - let's not forget the carrots. Tyka and I played hosts for an impromptu beer tasting last night. And by beer tasting, I mean there was swirling, sniffing, tasting, and discussion happening right in our living room. We even joined in and wrinkled our noses and offered opinions. My contribution to the evening? "This one tastes like carrots. Bad carrots. You know, when it's too big and you get down to the bottom and it's a little bitter and you wish you still had some of the yummy thin part to get the flavor out of your mouth?" I thought they should say that it had "a forward flavor of aged carrots" in their write-up.

Questionable content

Just moments ago I tried to comment, in a friendly and generous fashion, on someone else's blog. I received this error message: 'Your comment was denied for questionable content.' I searched my comment for any possible innuendo, but I'm at a loss folks. Maybe my comment just wasn't exciting enough.

It's a known fact that I laugh a lot. Sometimes too much. But mostly I laugh when no one else is laughing. People ask 'what's so funny?' But if you didn't already see it, you won't think it's funny when I tell you. Sorry. I also like to take things out of context to make them funnier. Yeah, true, it messes with my 'serious, reserved and quiet' image, but really I'm thinking of ditching that. Where has it gotten me? Elected to the Women's Group executive committee at church. By 'elected,' I mean there were 5 people who volunteered, and 5 positions to fill. I felt really honored when those ballots came in.

Another fact is that I get a kick out of shocking people, which is probably why I've kept the 'serious, reserved and quiet' image around. Because what's more fun than shattering people's perceptions? They see: Women's Group, Sunday School teacher, responsible worker. They don't see: me and roomie with wine in hand, Saturday night, bemoaning the fact that we don't have lesson plans for the next day's Sunday school. Okay, that's not really shocking. I can do better...the cult thing. I like to drop that into conversations. Or swearing unexpectedly - that still works on tyka.

Wow, I'm not really all that shocking, come to think of it. I've just shattered my own perceptions of myself. A big day and it's not even 10 o'clock yet. But really, I swear, I do laugh at all the wrong times! That's still true!

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Where's the sadness now?

Sorry, this is getting excessive. I need to find more to say before I sit down and avoid these puny posts.

But I have to say, there was no mail. Which is possibly sadder than an official no mail day. Because on the no mail day, you can't get your hopes up. But today, I did. And I was let down. Possibly I should reply to the letters sitting on my desk.

Which brings up another point: guilt. The guilt I feel over telling people I have a blog but not responding to their emails. Do you feel unloved? Berate me. Do.

Tonight's was a multi-course dinner. First there was some sliced mozzerella and tomatoes. Then some chicken was introduced, along with bread from Grand Central. Currently some pototaes are being mashed. I might also have a little salad. Wanna come over? You might make it in time for dessert. Or tea - we'll always have tea, day or night.

Mad, bad, and dangerous to know

Our little town pocket also has a blog: http://townpocket.blogspot.com
People, really, maybe this weekend I'll get all tech savvy. No promises.

So, smarties, who is this 'mad, bad, and dangerous to know' individual?

Introductions all around

It's time for you to meet my roommate. She's consented to not be secret anymore!
http://redcouchfever.blogspot.com

I might have another introduction later...And someday, somehow, I'll figure out how to link and show you all the loveliness I've been reading in blogland.

You know, I've already broken a promise I made to myself. I said "Self, don't blog at work." And where am I? Work. Also, I think I like using the word blog. It sounds like it should have something to do with having a cold. "I'm all bloggy - I can't breathe through my nose."

Another word that's satisfying to say - Seabiscuit.

Stolen from Sal

You Are 26 Years Old
26

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe.
13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world.
20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences.
30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more!
40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

Night Mail

Today, at long last, is a mail day. Those of you who are letter writers know what I'm talking about. Normally we only languish and despair on Sundays, but this week there was the added torture of Monday. No mail. None. What if there was a fabulous letter or issue of the New Yorker with your name on it, just wasting away in a post office somewhere? Or on a truck?

I forgot to add something to my list of obsessions - the postal system. I'd appreciate any inside info anyone can share. Why does a letter from New York to Portland take only 2 days, but a letter from Providence to Portland takes eons? (Well, maybe 4 - do you have a number, dear anonymous commenter who cares not for gold nor silver?) In a Brit Lit class we were once treated to the glory of an ancient black and white British film about the mail train from London to Scotland. It was truly glorious, lots of hooking and unhooking mail bags from these fabulous contraptions, lots of organizing, lots of mail. Also, one bit had Auden's Night Mail read over it...oh be still my beating heart! Look what the internet has given me today! http://www.britmovie.co.uk/genres/documentary/filmography/003.html (Sorry, haven't figured out how to do fancy links yet - I'm here for the words, not the tech-ness). And you can buy the DVD! (Anyone? St. Patrick's Day is coming up and you know you want to give it to me!) Oh. I'm so happy. Now I can handle leaving my lunch break and returning to work...

Monday, February 21, 2005

Lighting

So, I have a few minor obsessions. Sometimes I like to pretend I have OCD, but with the help of Town and the DSM-IV, we've discovered it more resembles obsessive-compulsive personality disorder. Still, I don't really have. So we can add 'pretending to have OCD to my list of obsessions.

At the moment, the list includes, but is not limited to:
-lists
-Lemony Snicket
-closing cupboard doors that other people leave open (maybe a compulsion?)
-picture books
-lighting (an acquired habit, courtesy of the Lighting and Thermostat Queen)
-organizing
-Dansko clogs
-reading aloud from the New Yorker
-reading aloud in general
-reading blog archives

And folks, we're fresh out of obsessions at the moment.

Someone just came to our door looking for the couple that used to live here. He didn't have their phone number anymore, but felt like dropping by and seemed a little crushed when I answered the door (still wearing half of my uniform) (and normal clothes on the other half, don't worry folks). Good luck! Hope you find them.

Another item of note is that I've just become aware of the existence of a secret blog. Shh...
Time to be domestic and prepare a tasty supper!

FYI

In case you were wondering, there is still a lot of chocolate cake left.

And roomie dear, have you been at the draino again? Because that shower is draining like a little piece of heaven.

I'm thinking of starting a little quiz. I give you a quote, you tell me who said it. Or you just enjoy the quote. Or ignore it. As you wish.

It's not a perfect quote because I can't be bothered to look it up, but you get the idea (it's in translation anyway, hint hint) (and no, it's not from a troparia or anything).

"Lay me down like a stone and raise me up like new bread."

Imaginary vacation

I've been having a lazy morning - sleeping in, sitting around in my pajamas, drinking coffee (Batdorf and Bronson - if you're not drinking B&B, why not? The delicious Holiday Blend has gone the way of the holidays, but you could still be enjoying some Dancing Goats or Omar's. Give it a try. I'm no coffee snob, but this stuff is good. Also, while we're in a parentheses, a little shout-out to the girls who made this morning's coffee experience all it could be - Tyka, for introducing B&B into our home and fueling a cream addiction, and Town for bringing us to the B&B mecca in Oly. And while we're talking B&B, if you're ever in the lovely City of Roses, go to the Yarn Garden, fill your arms with wool, and go next door to their new coffee shop which makes...B&B!)

Where was I? Oh yeah, so I said to myself as I started the coffee, 'Self, you're being so lazy this morning.' But then I realized - it's okay. For the following reasons:
1. This is my 8th consecutive day of work. In a 12 day work-week.
2. Today is a holiday. A holiday on which job 1 (the corporation that provides me with health care) doesn't stop working but job 2 (the fair suburby city I grew up in) does. So, only 4 hours of work today!

I hate hate getting off work at 9 - if I didn't love job 2 I would be tempted to stop - but it makes mornings like this possible. Laziness and coffee and not trying to merge into morning traffic.

I'm going to try and come up with a good story to tell, folks. It might take me a while.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

Chocolate cake

I have, as certain friends can testify, the capability of polishing off even slightly stale chocolate cake. Picture this, then, dear reader: me, your faithful blogger, alone in the apartment. In the fridge resides a delicious chocolate cake, as well as some (if I do say so myself) delicious tiramisu. What do you imagine will happen?

I just realized that I came home, turned on the heat and Cowboy Junkies, and sat down at my computer without so much as taking off my coat. Let's blame this on the still-cold air rather than an addiction, shall we?

Hmm. I tried to have an amusing anecdote happen to me today but it didn't work. Sorry.

At church today I was composing ads for Orthodox publications proclaiming the benefits of slings. No, I don't have a child. But I was wearing a sling, with a sleeping child in it, and making up ads. You know, "No need to retreat to the cry room! Participate fully while you wear the XYZ sling and you and your child can worship in comfort!" Ha. But really. It stopped my arms from falling off. I suppose I could have given Q. to her mom, but don't you think they spend enough time together as it is? I'm very selfish about holding my god-daughter in church. Ooh, I can add that to my confession next time!

(FYI: god-daughter's name doesn't really start with a Q. But it's a much better abbreviation than A., don't you think?)

Oh-dark-thirty

That's what time it is. And I'm not sleepy. Blame it on the chocolate cake.

I feel a little silly talking about myself because at this point, who's reading the blog? My friends. Yup. Hi!

But maybe you could learn something, yes? My deepest darkest secrets? Oh wait, what happened to the white board analogy? So no secrets.

A few things about myself:
1. I haven't balanced my checkbook in months.
2. I'm having an affair with the New Yorker.
3. Children's books make me cry. Frequently.
4. I dislike children's books where an animal dies and you're supposed to feel sad.
5. Unless said animal talks or in any way acts like a human.
6. I sleep on a futon because I'm too lazy to buy a real bed.
7. I don't have to pay late fees at the library.
8. I was born into a cult.

Let's stop before we get too interesting, shall we?

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Prickly hedgehogs

Young library patron: "What's the Saturday craft today?"
Me: "I believe we're making hedgehogs out of clay."
(I scramble to locate flier) "Yeah, 'prickly clay hedgehogs.' It's at 2."
YLP crosses room: "Mom, it's prickly clay hedgehogs."

Don't you wish you were there? Making your own hedgehog? Let me tell you, you stick a few toothpicks in a lump of clay and wow, that's some powerful stuff.

There's a sign I keep driving past in Ladd's Addition (addition to what? It's right in the middle of the city. Maybe it wasn't always...) that's advertising (I assume) a coffee cart (although on the weekend there is no coffee in sight) and it says, proudly: "Helping youth through coffee."

Do they get to drink a lot? Do the proceeds go to the youth? Do the youth sell the coffee?
(Do I have enough parenthetical remarks?)

Good Morning

We're going to start off today with some tidbits. A warm-up, if you will.

Things like the fact that if I use an ampersand in the same, it looks...wrong. As in, there is no ampersand.

Things like my apartment smelling like garlic this morning.

Things like waking up to the sound of labored breathing coming from the living room.

And yes, I'm spacing things out to disguise the fact that I lay in bed for half an hour mentally composing witty entries and now they've all left me.

I tend to jump on the bandwagon late, if at all. I refused to buy a Nalgene until I graduated from my Nalgene-infested college. At which point, I bought one with the college's name on the side. But one day, when the phrase 'garish and tweed' popped into my head, I knew I had to start a blog. Just so I could use it as a name. Pure and simple. Ideally, I'd like this blog to resemble the message board in my laundry room (and by laundry room I mean the alcove off my kitchen in which I spend more time than I'd like applying force to the washer to keep it from disconnecting itself from the wall in its delirious joy at being able to wash things). I'd like it to avoid sentimentality, avoid clunky personal revelations, convey information, and occasionally entertain. I've certainly never seen a personal revelation on my white board. I'd also like to (God help me) practice my writing. Bear with me, please. Lately, the extent of my practicing has been - get this - listening to people tell stories. Or write them in letters. Collect compelling bits and pieces so that if I ever sit down with a word document, I might have something to give my characters. 'Here you go, darling, I brought you this anecdote. It's all yours. Do whatever you'd like with it.'

Some days this might seem like a bad letter. The kind that rambles and doesn't say anything and the pages aren't numbered. Other days, perhaps, will be the kind of letter you can drop in the mailbox with satisfaction. Although, as my roommate says, I'm 'so mediocre.'