10k down, 1/2 marathon coming up!

I have now completed my first organized run as an adult. It was fun! A lot of fun and I am worried that I may have to sign up for more. The nice thing about running is that you are working consistently. Even if it is raining, I do not get cold while running. I love that! Plus the friend who talked me into this crazy thing in the first place, runs at the same pace I do. It’s really a pretty sweet set up.
Now for the dilemma; I need new running shoes. I went to a running store and had them take a quick look at my shoes and they told me about how many miles I had left on them and they also told me a bit about my running style. I figured I would just use up the miles left on my current shoes (which they said were not a bad fit for me) and then I would go back to the store, pay them for the service of fitting some shoes to me, and then go buy them with my discount at REI.
Then I called them to ask how much they would charge for a fitting. Apparently there is no possible way to charge for just a fitting. I assumed that the running store would be like my dad’s bike shop in this respect. Offering complementary fittings for those who buy from the store or charging a fee for those who wish to buy elsewhere for some reason. This is not the case in the running industry, not in Portland anyway.
So now I am really torn between two things I love dearly: saving money and supporting local, small businesses who are great at what they do. This is all complicated by a few things.
1. I have already gotten some good advice from them for which they have in no way been compensated.
2. I am extremely broke right now and that is not going to change for some time to come, like maybe a year or more.
3. My body is full of weirdness because of my back and having broken my leg a few years ago so I really do need professional advice.
4. The guy at the store told me that since I was honest about my intent to buy elsewhere, he would run through a fitting with me for free if I came in on a weekday when the store is empty.
For the record, that fourth item does nothing to alleviate my conscience. I know what it is like to be in an independent shop. The guy is being nice because he really loves running and he wants me and everyone else to love running too. He is speaking as a runner not as a business man. I don’t feel comfortable taking advantage of that. I also don’t feel comfortable spending over 100 bucks on shoes. What is a girl to do? Seriously, I could use some advice (or some money)here because those old shoes are on their last legs.

Running

As most of you know, I have decided to run a half marathon this June. I was initially very worried about this mostly because I hate running. I had agreed to run with a friend because my current fitness routine lacked any type of meaningful motivation. I reasoned that the thought of crawling my way through 13.1 miles would motivate me to actually get myself out of bed and onto the treadmill.
So I signed up and I checked out like 12 books from the library about training. There are books on marathon training for women, for lazy people, for slackers, for the clueless, and even for people who hate running. I think I fall into all of those categories.
Or at least I used to.
Something very strange has happened in my measly 2 weeks of training. I have come to like running. I am verging on loving running. It’s kinda sick. After completing my mileage for the day I often want to keep running. I have started to judge music by how motivating it would be during a run.
I really want a running skirt.
Now in the spirit of full disclosure, I am really more of a jogger than a runner. But when you say that you jog it conjures up images of leisurely making your way down a sunny park path. If you were to see me jogging around my neighborhood you would see a woman with her dog tied to her waist, stomping through mud puddles, mumbling the words to whatever song is playing on the iPod in a breathless, tone def, attempt to “sing.” See why I think it is crazy that I have come to enjoy this as a pastime? I have even decided that now that I like running, I will do a triathlon in August and If I still like running after all of this, I will just keep right on training and run the Portland Marathon in October.
My insanity is reaching new levels of stupidity.
I was discussing this running trend with Aarwenn. We have both noticed that, all of the sudden, everyone we know is a runner. The peer pressure to join this cult is enormous. I had come to terms with the fact that I would eventually have to give in a run a 5k just to prove to everyone that I do indeed hate running. Unfortunately, I have proven quite the opposite. Our conclusion? Running is the new crack. The peer pressure, the addiction, the weight loss . . . its all there. Its so sad to watch yourself become a statistic.

friended

I was recently friended by a girl I knew in high school. High school and middle school actually. She was, in my mind at least, significantly more popular that I was. This would not have been hard. I was the parliamentarian of MESA club. The point is, I was surprised she remembered me and I was even more surprised that she wanted to be my facebook friend. But why not right? So now she and I find out little tidbits about each other.
Boy is that weird! Here is a person who to me was represented the entirety of my teen angst. Now I did not have a dramatically terrible time in high school. I rather enjoyed myself through some of it. But every time I started to be myself and have a good time with it, there was this girl (and maybe 12 others like her) jolting me back to the reality that I would never be good enough.
Even still, I see her picture and think that she must have at least a lingering sense of superiority the way I have and lingering sense of inferiority. But the really oddball thing is that she seems really nice. Nice in a really “the universe is full of threads of grace and kindness” kind of way.
She took a quiz the other day about her spirit animal.
In a way, I know so much more about her after being facebook friends for 3 days than I ever did when we were in classes together. And she doesn’t scare me anymore. In fact I am a bit concerned that I might offend her. I mean, right now she is “allowing possibility to guide her day.” While I informed my husband that “My love for you is like diarrhea; I just can’t hold it in.”
When did I become the scary one?

"A Sunday Rant" or "Pure B.S."

So yesterday we went to a vow renewal celebration. There was an amazing desert bar and some pretty touching moments but we really only know the husband and we have only known him very well for a short while so we knew very few people at the event. But I felt sort of strange about the whole thing when we got home and I actually stayed awake in bed thinking about it last night.
Since marrying my husband and especially since moving to Portland near some of his closest friends, I have been half forced, half inspired to explore my relationship with religion. This is mainly because, to be perfectly honest, a whole lot of things his friends say and do, really make me feel very uncomfortable. I have been attempting to delve into the causes for these feelings as they occur. Looking at the context and the concepts involved.
Many things about this event last night were triggers for feelings of discomfort within me but the thing that I got stuck on, the thing that kept me awake, was the concept of purity and is usage in their ceremony.
I have spent so much time and effort in my adult life seeking balance and forgiveness and compassion. Striving to make it possible in my life and in my actions for those things to be guiding principles. There are many other things I consider valuable such as goodness and understanding and gratitude . . . the list could go on. But balance and forgiveness and compassion are all things I find both valuable and difficult, personally.
I have to say that purity is not on either of those lists anywhere. I can see that purity as a concept has a place in religion but I FEEL that it can be so harmful the way it is applied in many mainstream American Christian contexts. Purity is a standard of judgment and it inspires people to search for flaws in themselves and in others. The concept of purity asks us to search for those flaws and find ways to eradicate them. Sorry, but I just don’t think that is a very healthy way to live or think.
Flaws are in intrinsic part of the human condition. God has made us flawed. God challenges us with the flaws in ourselves and the flaws in those we love. I see the beauty and value in that challenge being appreciated through acceptance and understanding and creativity.
Acceptance that as a human being you are not perfect but those flaws with which you struggle are opportunities for growth. Understanding that those around you have their own struggles and challenges. And creativity in coping with these imperfections or even seeing ways to turn them into advantages.
A pure thing is untouched, unspoiled; it is not marked by anything. I don’t see how that could describe an authentic person and I don’t see how an unauthentic life could honor God.

Poetry

Well I have finally succumb to the overwhelming temptation that has haunted me since starting this blog a few years ago. I figure I have lost the majority of my audience with the combination of my woefully sporadic posting and somewhat abrasive personality so really, I can start posting my self indulgent poetry if I damn well feel like it. What have I got to lose? Last I checked I had 2 semi-regular readers and both of you are somewhat obligated to care what I say simply by your relationship to me. The quality of the drivel I throw on this site should really have very little influence upon your reading habits.
Right, so on to the poetry.


There is an inherent grace in liquid.
I have begun to investigate the parallels
That exist between the
Flowing and swirling
Of watery things
And the seemingly senseless
Arcs and flows of
My trajectory.

If grace is essential
And included in
all those parts of
all those things
that are as simple as
water
sky
love
faith

If grace is mathematical
And science is so very
Elegant

The elemental connection
Between my
Body
ground
inspiration
realization

is complete
and knowable
without
my knowing completely
whatever that means.

As I touch the surface of the water
The ripples carry me.
The art of life
Is to see how everything contains Grace
(Def: The fusion of those things we call God and Science.
Def: Things witch are elegant and correct by the laws of each.
Def: The embodiment of that which brings one closer to the divine.)
And is contained by it
And all that is excluded
Is possession

How to properly interact with the world in general: Tip # 23

It is my strong opinion that if you notice a change in a person’s appearance and you are not prepared to complement them on said change then you should just keep your bleeping mouth shut.
I have been dying my hair red. This is a process. Like 80% of the women in America, my hair has not seen its totally natural state since sometime in the 7th grade so when I decided to dye my hair red I went to the salon and they told me “This will not happen overnight, you will have to get there gradually.” This is because I had previously dyed my naturally light brown hair a pretty dark brown. Then I had my stylist back in T-town fade my natural color at the roots into the darker ends to avoid having to bleach my hair. Anyway, the point is that the first iteration of “red” was still pretty brown. It was so subtle that barely anyone noticed.
The second phase of Project Go Red included some highlights in two different tones. This was much more noticeable but still, when asked to describe the color of my hair, a person would have said it was brown with various red highlights.
So on this third dye job, I went with an all over light auburn red and I have to admit it looks, well, awkward. The highlighted areas turned a bright copper and an almost orange color while the areas that were not highlighted turned the anticipated light auburn red. But then the lower part of my hair, the part that was dyed darker oh so long ago? It came out that dark auburn that looks purplish in some lights. So yeah, overall it is pretty awkward.
But a girl can only dye her hair so often. I don’t need poor coloring AND frizzy damaged hair. My husband does not understand why I do this since he likes my natural color but I would rather be odd than be boring so this is what happens sometimes. I am ok with that.
However, the annoying complaining girl at work I had to quit my lunchtime walks with? One of her annoying traits is a pretty significant lack of tact. I just ran into her in the bathroom and this was our conversation
Annoying office girl (AOG): Is your hair a different color?
Me: Yeah, I have been working up to Red
AOG: Oh, some of it looks kind of orange.
Me: Yeah.
AOG: I liked your darker color better.
Me: I wasn’t really a fan. I wanted something different. I have been dyeing it progressively redder for almost 2 months now.
AOG: Well you can totally tell its red now.
Me: Yeah, a few people have mentioned that but no one has said that they like it.
AOG: It’s cute!
At that point I walked out of the bathroom. So here is the thing. I KNOW my hair looks less than attractive at the moment. If this chick were my best friend and she thought I was super stoked on my new do, then I could see mentioning it but as my acquaintance you should not be bringing up changes in my appearance unless you 1) plan to complement me on it and mean it or 2) Are in a position to offer some help (a service or advice) and you know I will receive it well.
I could even give her some credit for insulting me if that was her intent. The thing that makes her so annoying is that she is absolutely clueless. She probably thinks she has convinced me that she likes my new hair color.
Life would be so much more satisfying if I were allotted one punch to the face per month to dole out free of legal consequences.

Why all the whining?

Sometime after my last job went down in a fiery ball feeling betrayed by people I thought were my friends, I took a moment to think about how I contributed to that whole situation. Certainly there was a whole lot of crying and upset first and I would have been beyond repair were it not for the support of, well, my support system of family and true friends. But after the pain had subsided and I quit lulling myself to sleep with plans for elaborate revenge plots, I was able to find some time for self reflection and I realized that I had not been discriminating enough in my choice of friends when I had decided to befriend these people. Their actions were, at their root, predicable and I should have seen it coming.
There is a culture of negativity in many offices, especially offices full of women. The women in my last office were a prime example. The primary mode of conversation was complaining. They would complain about how little time they had or how their boyfriend’s ex-wife was annoying or their kids were too messy, their husband too lazy and their neighbors too loud. If someone brought in doughnuts it was an assault on their diet.
I decided that I would not participate in this at my new job. To take it a step further, I would not socialize with those people who do. This has been hard. The first person I became friendly with seemed to have the “complaining” affliction pretty badly. I had to stop our lunchtime walks because of it.
My guess is that there are others like me who would rather focus on things that are going right or at least improving. What is it about placing women in cubicles that turns them into little whining machines? This seems to apply much more prevalently to women than to men. Is it the office culture of America in general or is this just a government thing?

Lent- it’s not just about dieting anymore!

Warning: This post is one part religion and two parts squishy, self-indulgent personal revelation expunged in a somewhat inappropriate forum and therefore it has little entertainment value.

This year Lent is especially important to me. I feel that so much of my spiritual evolution recently has been (necessarily) receiving based. My quest became more imminent and earnest when I felt that there was something I needed from my life and existence that was not being provided. Seeking this missing piece, I have returned to the church and found a comforting yet overwhelming array of options to sift through, sort out, make sense of, and decide upon their usefulness to me personally. This task has been gratifying and frightening. I have spent much time and effort internally debating the place of acceptance and the place of inquiry. I do not want to teach myself to accept those things which I do not believe but I do feel a need to accept my belief in some things which I do not understand. That can be a fuzzy line to find and a difficult one to follow. The task requires much personal searching. It requires both internal and external guidance and assistance.
But as we are approaching the season of Lent, I am reminded that repairing my relationship with God and rediscovering my spiritual self is, quite counter-intuitively, not all about me. Any healthy relationship requires a give ant take. I have been needing to take much more than I have been able to give recently.
Considering the nature and symbolism of sacrifice is not an activity I have been accustomed to. I have viewed sacrifice as the greater counterpart of inconvenience; a thing I was willing to endure for people and beliefs only when necessary. And for my sacrifices I expected appreciation or even in kind repayment. But I am beginning to reconsider these assumptions.
What if those calls to sacrifice are not simply grand inconveniences? What if the sacrifices I make are, in fact, the balance for the gifts I receive? Maybe not on a person to person basis, but between the whole of me and the whole of my world. Then aren’t those things that I give up, sort of like a gift to myself in that the very act of sacrifice creates balance in my life? Then my greater task becomes not answering calls to give of my time and efforts. Rather, it becomes to discern where imbalance exists in my life and whether that imbalance must be rectified through giving or through receiving.
Sigh. Are you still there? I have not annoyed you or bored you enough to drive you all away yet? In that case I will get back to why this makes Lent so important to me this year. Some of my family and friend will remember that I have historically used lent as a way to break bad habits or give my diet an extra boost. I have given up things like coffee or eating out. I still think these are very valid things to sacrifice but this year I want to focus more on my actions than on my denial of desires. This year my plan is to give up those things witch I have a tendency to want in excess. This mean there will be more things I abstain from and they will be broader categories. I will be giving up my favorite category of each of the four calorie types. For protein I will give up meat. For fat I will give up cheese. For carbohydrates I will give up sweets. And finally, for alcohol I will give up . . . well, alcohol. I will also give up shopping for fun. I will still need to buy food and perhaps some other necessary items but I will not allow myself to spend time focusing on my potential consumerism. I will not browse in stores or troll the internet for deals or even check the free page on craigslist. In addition I plan to highlight my new perspective on sacrifice as a balancing factor in my life by giving myself something that I need but am usually to lazy to make a priority. I will be making myself get out of bed an hour earlier to go to the Adult Education classes at church on Sundays which will actually be very fitting since this gift to myself will be occurring on Sundays during Lent and those are the days meant to focus not on sacrifice and resistance of temptation but on the celebration of our ability to achieve those things.
My hope is that by writing all this out and posting it here, I will be better able to hold myself accountable. I will try to let you know how it goes.

Home Sweet Home

So here is my lovely minty kitchen. Not everyone (Mama) is a fan of the color but I actually really like it. I think that the pan racks and the kitchen cart are a big improvement and if I hang onto the stove long enough, maybe it will qualify as vintage someday!
Big kitchen window looking out onto the patio.

Here is the view from the hallway in the back of the house through the dinning room to the living room.
My favorite room in the house! I have added a salon style grouping of framed photographs on the back wall. I will have to post pictures of that soon but it is not quite done yet.
The entrance to our humble abode.
The North side of the living room.
My reading corner. I got a sweet deal on the comfy chair and the crazy hanging lamp came with the house. I think that Josh not-so-secretly hates it but he let me keep it. Either because he loves me and wants to indulge me or because he wants something to hold over my head. I guess we will find out which next time he wants something.
Our living room is coming together. I originally wanted to put a mirror above the fireplace as is traditional in house of this age. I even have the mirror but I hung the artwork there instead. We have too much artwork to be wasting prime wall space on mirrors.
Here is our very large TV. It is much larger than any other TV I have ever had. I have to admit, I am starting to like it.
Our guest room is finally ready. It is another of my favorite spots to read. Its nice and sunny with one window overlooking the patio and the other looking out onto the beginnings of our vegetable garden.
The guest room is also the music room with a real home for my keyboard and Josh's guitars.
And of course, a bed.
So that's the progress on the house for now. Soon (and by soon I mean before next Christmas) I will have some pictures of our bedroom, the office, and the yard. Maybe by refusing to post pictures in a timely fashion I can encourage you all to come see the house in person? Its worth a shot.

Bitching and Moaning (but not the fun kind of moaning)

Today my head hurts because my hair is too greasy to wear it down and so I have it in a ponytail. Am I the only person in the world who consistently gets headaches from ponytails?
I also might be developing a tension headache because I have never had to pay state income taxes before and the shock is painful. Additionally, our Jeep is broken and the price tag for the repairs is enough to make us consider other options. The consideration of multiple options, all of which are less than ideal, has a tendency to incite headaches.
Plus, I have driven a car for 4 of the 10 hours I have been awake today and I still have another hour and some on the commute home. Sigh.
This is one of those very “blah” kinds of days. In general, I feel like life is great and things are moving along but today . . . Well today is just plain lame.
Also, I promised a friend I would help her paint her bathroom tonight. Also, I did not get a lunch break today. Also, while I was eating a yogurt for lunch at my desk, I bit the inside of my cheek. I will repeat that for you so it sinks in.
While I was eating a YOGURT for lunch at my desk, I BIT the inside of my cheek.
Do you understand how ridiculous that is? No one even chews yogurt! W.T.F. man!

I Hope the A-hole Who Stole My Stuff is Getting Good Use Out of it.

So this weekend I went grocery shopping on my bike as I often do. I needed to go to both Trader Joe’s and a normal grocery store because some things are just so much cheaper at TJ’s but they don’t sell things like Swiffer dusters.
At Trader Joe’s I park my bike in front of the Pannera Bread located in the same building. Standing there, selling Street Roots (the Portland homeless paper) is a man who I assume is homeless. I admit, I totally avoid eye contact because I have no intention of buying his paper. But it never once occurs to me that he would steal lights and things off of my bike. Of course I take my bags in with me, but my saddle bag with flat repair stuff in it, and my lights all get left on my bike.
Then I go shopping.
Then I come back to my bike.
Then I get on it, and ride it to Safeway.
No problems.
When I get to Safeway, I am primarily concerned with what to do with the items I purchased at Trader Joe’s. Clearly they are from TJ’s because they all have quirky names like “Trader Darwin’s multivitamins” and also I have a receipt, but I am still uneasy about taking the previously purchased groceries into the grocery store. As I decide how to arrange things and I walk away from my bike, a shady looking guy on a rusted out Magna rides up and leans his bike next to mine on the rack. I am over ½ way to the door by now but this guy makes me nervous and I consider for a moment going back to my bike and removing all the lights and things. But it would be so obvious that I think this greasy haired, unshaven fellow was going to steal things from me. I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, and I continue into the store.
Then I go shopping.
Then I come back to my bike.
Then I realize that all but one of my lights have been stolen.
Also most of the contents of my saddle bag.
Now, I don’t KNOW it was that guy but I do feel pretty stupid. And the unfortunate consequence is, that next time I park my bike at Trader Joe’s I will consider the blameless homeless man a potential thief and I will strip my bike down before going into the store.
I just really hope that whoever stole my stuff really needed it because if they have given me this newfound distrust of humanity just to make a few bucks selling bike lights on Craigslist, well that makes me sad on top of being angry and disillusioned.

For Now. . .

Christmas is over. We have a new president. My sister is in India. My brother is in Kuwait. Save-the-Dates and wedding invitations for the coming spring/summer have started to arrive.
All of these things are the start of a new year. I know that as the year progresses, my sister will come home, my brother will be moved to Iraq, friends and family will make life long commitments, our new president will be tested, and Christmas will come again. I know that as the days and weeks pass, events large and small will have implications for my day to day life. But today, in the warm afterglow of one of the most public and inclusive inauguration celebrations in the history of the United States, I am content.
Tomorrow I will be a bit worried and a bit scared. I have mostly been dragged into politics kicking and screaming. I do not like the frustrating task of maintaining well informed opinions on large and contentious issues. I have often wished that I were more able to ignore these issues. I have even tried. I was hopeful that having a good president who I could basically trust to at least not be a fear mongering, self righteous zealot, would allow me to go back to ignoring politics.
Tomorrow, I will think about Obama’s call to action. I will consider his position that as a citizen I am obligated not only to think about these problems but to do things that make me part of the solution. There is a large part of me that honestly wants that to go away. There is a large part of me that feels entitled to my laziness as a citizen. I did not take any oaths. I did not volunteer to tackle these big issues. Sigh.
Tomorrow I will consider how all that has changed around me should inform my actions and my decisions, and even my thinking. But for today, I am just going to focus on the happy fact that an age of deepening darkness has come to an end. We may still be living lives with little daylight, but the solstice has come, and regardless of what is to be required of us, brighter days are ahead.

Back on the Scale

I could blog about the remodel and how we have started up again. I could blog about how awesome my husband has been lately bringing home little gifts and doing the dishes without my saying a thing. I could blog about the dog and my tough decision to get him a bark collar. I could blog about how broke we are, or how excited I am to have my Dad come down and see our house in its “lived in” state, or recent developments in my ongoing quest to find a spiritual “home.” But I am not going to blog about any of that. All of that is too personal or too trivial or just pain not amusing.
So right now I am going to blog about the old stand by of agony and comedy we women refer to as “trying to lose weight.” Most the time I like to disguise my attempts at losing weight as other things. “Eating healthier” is a good one, as is “taking up running” and while I am sure that there are people in the universe for whom these goals in and of them selves are worthy and fulfilling, I am not one of them. Don’t get me wrong. I too enjoy runner’s highs and the shinny hair one only gets by eating right. I like having more energy and getting closer to keeping up with my husband when we are skiing/cycling/climbing/hiking. I really do like all of those things, I swear.
But I also like movies and books and stuffing my pie hole with cookies and chips. I like sleeping in and I truly believe that everything (except maybe things like prescription pain medication) is much better with the right wine.
So why lose weight at all? Because I am vain. Good God, am I vain. When I die and end up trying to talk my way out of all the sins I have committed, I will probably be able to make a case for being truly repentant about everything except my vanity. I know that in the grand scheme of things beauty is subjective and largely defined my societal ideals. I also know that I am really only capable of achieving an average level of attractiveness in comparison to those ideals. I mean, realistically, I am painfully normal looking. This does not stop me from going to great lengths to improve that appearance in any way. No mater how minor the improvement will be. Case in point, I quit smoking and if I am honest with myself about the reason, I did it so my teeth would be white for my wedding photos. Yeah, I wanted to stop killing myself and those around me. I wanted to smell better and reduce my risk of cancer. I wanted to save money and get fewer colds. But I had wanted all of those things for a long time and I had tried to quit many times before. So why was I successful quitting during one of the most stressful periods of my life? Vanity.
And that is the same reason I am so upset about a trivial weight gain over the holidays. So the holiday free-for-all of goodies is over and I am going to diet and exercise and lose the weight I gained so I can go back to “maintenance mode” which is what we call it when clothes fit right but you are still to terrified of weight gain to order anything that has Alfredo Sauce on it.

Home for the Holidays

As I reflect on the whirlwind of 2008 I have come to the conclusion that it was a year of creating “home.” While a certain part of the concept of home will always be my parents and the places and faces of my childhood, there is a process that one undertakes as an adult of piecing together the comforting and necessary parts of a life. And if this process is done carefully and mindfully, the results become part of you. Although they cannot replace the home of your inner child, they expand the concept.
At some point, something will happen to shake you. Maybe it’s something big, maybe something small, maybe an onslaught of things. In need of comfort you will go home to recover and you will realize that “home” is not what it used to be.
Many times as I have worked to become an autonomous person and assert my independence, I have needed the restorative powers of home and have gone back to Tacoma to recover and rebuild. And each time I made my way back out into the world, I would pack it up and keep a tiny version of it with me. Frozen in an idyllic caricature of itself, it would become worn and faded from travel and handling. And then I always would return again to repair it.
Without really realizing what I was doing, at some point I quit repairing. I started improving. I started building. And then I packed. And then I moved. And when I did I was very sure that I would enjoy my time here in Portland. I was very sure that it would be interesting and enjoyable. But I was also very sure that it would never be “home.”
But really with no fanfare and with shocking speed, part of home, the biggest part of home, is now here.
Visiting Washington these past few weekends during the holidays, I became aware that some people and some places and some memories that are home to me will always be there but the restorative and reassuring qualities of home now reside in the quiet corners of my atrociously pink colored little house in Portland.
Because no matter how enthralling the rest of the world is, its only there, with my husband chuckling over a book and my dog dreaming on the living room rug, that I can sort out the happenings of my life and leisurely put them where they belong.
On the first day of 2008 I lived in a sunshine yellow, rented bungalow in Tacoma Washington. I was surrounded by family and friends. My husband and I had no intention of leaving our good paying jobs. We had love and purpose and support and comfort all around us.
It is strange the way things can unfold, so rapidly and so painfully slowly at the same time. But though the year, all the things that came to pass; every disappointment and every challenge met, culminated in the moment I got “home” this last Saturday night. The happy mess of a New Years Eve dinner party was there to greet us. We were too tired to unpack our car. We simply turned the heat back on and collapsed into bed. “It’s good to be home!” I sighed and my husband agreed.
It was as I settled into sleep, under the soft glow of his reading light, listening to Taj turn the three circles he must turn on his doggie bed before laying down for the night, that I realized how much I meant it. Of all the places in the world, this is the most home.

I've been sick

But the camera is fixed and I have Christmas lights up everywhere (including on my bike) so rest assured, your overdue post is on its way and it’s full of visuals.

Religious Views

The past few years have been ones of great personal growth for me in the area of my spirituality and relationship with God. Many of you who are close to me know that I have often struggled with the role that religion, especially organized religion, should play in my life and in the way I understand my spiritual needs.
I consider this struggle to be one of the most intensely personal undertakings of ones life but it is also extremely social; impacting the way you relate to not only your family and friends, but also to your culture at large. In fact, much of what informs the choices I make today about the way I approach religion in my life is based, in large part, on my understanding of the interplay of culture and society in my personal life.
This perspective is not a conclusion. I believe that I will continue to adjust and change my ideas about religion and my relationship with God as long as I live. I believe that is a good thing; a necessary thing even. The changes I have made in this respect over the course of my life have often been at the influence of an event (getting married sparked a huge quest for answers) or a new perspective offered by a friend (or my mother who is one of my best friends) but never before have I been so moved to change my life by a single image.

I mean, that is f-ing priceless. I want all my children to grow up to be her.

Clean Teeth

Every few year my Mother-in-law’s extended family has a massive thanksgiving. Her parents (DH’s Grandparents) get together will all of their siblings. And all of them invite their children (my Mother-in-law’s generation), and their children’s children (our generation) and even their children’s children’s children (DH has one cousin with a little girl.) I had been to one of these celebrations before so this year (my second) I was better prepared. I was prepared for close to 100 people singing children’s songs rewritten with Thanksgiving themed lyrics. I was prepared for the very competitive board game playing. I was prepared to handle all this without a drop of alcohol.
I was so prepared that I even made a double recipe of cranberry sauce. Of which a recipe and a half is still in my fridge. Now this could be because it was one of 4 types of cranberry sauce and people were only taking a bit of each. It could be because it clearly did not include Jell-O and therefore was passed over by a certain type of person. Or it may be because it “tasted like toothpaste” to quote a certain cousin who was unaware that the cook was in the room when he announced his opinion of the dish. I have to admit that after he said that, it did start to kinda taste like toothpaste but honestly what was I supposed to do?
You see, I get Domino magazine. This makes me fancy and sophisticated without being stuffy. In general it has no practical application in my life because all the spaces they decorate have soaring ceilings and truckloads of inherent charm. Plus all of their recipes are stupidly simple to make but call for expensive and hard to find ingredients. So you think to yourself “I could make that and I will just substitute shitake mushrooms for that black ear cloud fungus stuff” and then you realize that now all you have is stir fry with shitake mushrooms. Sigh.
So I took a look at their thanksgiving menu and decided that I could make their stupidly simple cranberry sauce which sounded good because it included crystallized ginger. Except that unless you are Starbucks or perhaps you are the type of person who plans your cooking of things enough in advance to go to more than one store, crystallized ginger hard to find. The store by my house did not even have fresh ginger because apparently all of Safeway and all of China are in some sort of disagreement that prohibits ginger from being exchanged. Starbucks (which is in this particular Safeway) has it. They put it in their Gingersnap lattes and it sinks to the bottom if you forego the whip cream and it sits there shedding it crystallized-ness becoming a mushy ball of stringy ginger goo just small enough to fit through the drink hole in a cup so you can choke on it after otherwise enjoying your calorically and financially costly treat. Remembering this distasteful experience I offered the barista 20 bucks for a shaker bottle of it but she laughed like I was joking and told be that everyone seemed to be looking for that this year.
So I bought cranberries, ginger in a jar, and fresh mint. Somehow the crystallized ginger could be replaced by fresh ginger but not simply by ginger puree in a jar so I thought that adding the fresh mint would, you know, add that something special. And it did, because really have you ever heard of toothpaste cranberries? Me neither but I have leftovers so if you decide to visit this week, be prepared to try some.

The Idea of Fire

Thanksgiving is a bit late this year. That is how I am going to justify putting the Christmas music in my CD player yesterday. I really should have a little more shame and not tell you that I practically cried tears of joy at the sound of Mariah Carey’s voice singing “All I Want for Christmas is You” but I am generally shameless so now the world of the interweb knows my secret.
I seriously am way more excited about putting up Christmas stuffs than I am about moving into my house. I really think I was supposed to be a 50s housewife because if I think about it, I could be very happy getting overly excited about holidays. I would spend my time concocting signature cocktails for my dinner party celebrating Christmas or Independence Day or the third Sunday in August. . . Any excuse really because if there is one thing I love as much as Christmas and party planning it has to be cocktails . . . or maybe wine.
I am also extremely excited to have a fireplace this year. I hate fires inside in fact I am not so much a fan of them outside either. Really, it’s mostly the idea of fires that I like. And I like the heat. Ok, so maybe I just hate the smoke because it gives me migraines and I also maybe don’t appreciate the special kind of unpredictability that fires possess that often results in leaping coals burring holes through things I am wearing. BUT I do love the possibility of fires and I really really love the cheese-tastic plug-in electric light up log insert thingy that came with my fireplace. Next to a gas fireplace (which is all the heat and none of the smoke and therefore a basically perfect invention) this little thing is the most awesome I could hope for. It really is the embodiment of the idea of a fire.
The other reason I am excited about the fireplace is that it has a mantel. Which is awesome if you are trying to channel a cloistered 50s house-wife because you can hang stockings on it and arrange your Italian, hand painted collectable figurine nativity set on it. And then you can plug in your fake fire, put on Nat King Cole Christmas, and read your home décor magazines while you drink hot buttered rum and wait for your hubby to get home from work.
Jesus I am the worst feminist ever.

No visuals

A few weeks ago I was vey proud of myself for fixing our digital camera. Sadly, as with many good things in life, this pride in my self-sufficiency has met an untimely end. My stubborn camera has decided it wants to be broken again. That is why you will not see pictures of week three of our home improvement epic. This is especially sad because now is when it is all coming together and starting to look like a house that people could live in. There is real paint on the walls! The kitchen has been cleaned! There are new, old light fixtures (antiques I spruced up) and even new outlets and outlet covers. I actually can go over there without thinking “what was I thinking? I will NEVER be able to move in!” Yes we have hit the rewarding stages of the process and none of it will be displayed here.
Luckily I am way more stubborn than my camera. It will eventually bend to my will and at that point you will all get a before-and-after post. I love before-and-afters. Almost as much as I love lists and by God do I love lists. In fact I am pretty sure that a post very soon will be a list of “what were they thinking” moments encountered while remodeling. Now you have so much to look forward to!

Midlife Crisis Plan

Everyone knows about my plans when I get old. I am going to get very fat and spend hours every day at the YMCA doing water aerobics. I am going to get there on the bus which I will ride for free by arguing incessantly with the bus driver over my transfers and whether or not they are expired. And on the weekends I am going to crash weddings pretending to be so-and-so’s great aunt whoever, drinking cheep wine and eating more than my share of cake (I have to stay fat somehow!) Yes this is my retirement dream. It took me years to perfect. But now I have discovered something else I must do and it will require that I not be old, fat, and possibly drunk. So you all get to be the first to know about my budding “midlife crisis plan.”


It starts with this. I am going to join The Sprockettes when I turn 40. I figure by then I will be in desperate need of pink Lycra and black fishnets. I get to be the one trying to pop the other girl's head doff using the strength of her massive rock hard thighs.