I’ve made birthdays a big thing. It’s the one day I think that everyone should drop everything for their friends and show the fuck up. My birthday has become the day of disappointments. It fractures the fragile bonds I hold sacred. It just mucks things up.

This year, it would do none of those things.

David worked his ass off to make sure I was happy. We woke. I made a lovely meal. We played WoW until the evening, when we jumped into the shower to make ourselves presentable. The time spent at Alu really solidified things (by the way, they have the COOLEST front door…and a little fire pit..and popcorn w/ curry, and little tags on your wine so you know what you drank and if you liked it…brilliant little place). My birthday may be important to me, and David and my family, but I can’t expect the everyone to understand. The universe didn’t even see fit to grant me my first rejection (this waiting game is killing me). What it did give me was my first birthday in years without tears.

And that is a beautiful gift.

That is honestly because of David, not the universe. So thanks, honey.

David also made me fall back in love with my camera again. He rules. I heart him.

This weekend started off well. It’s been hotter than the devil’s taint, here in loverly Portland.  The hubbie and I gallivanted down to an impromptu happy hour with some of my favorite people from work. Then we geeked out at the casa and ignored the fact that we really need to clean (Cats should seriously have to shave themselves in the summer. Valentine’s hair has gotten ridiculous). I’ve been bitching about it all summer, the whole 5 days we’ve actually had this summer. Saturday we spent time at a favorite watering hole with a favorite friend who, no matter how many times we talk, shocks me with her intelligence and wit. And, holy god, does she have some funny stories. It’s the hardest I have laughed since residency.

Then on Sunday, put on my Grumpasarus pants.

I lost the domain name for my other site. How many Erica McEacherns are running around out there? A few, as far as I can tell, and one of them snagged the domain name that has been under my control for 2 years. But I didn’t pay attention to the e-mails and hollering from godaddy and so now I don’t have the fucking site.

I’m very bitter about this.

I.Should. Pay. Attention.

I get so much crap in my email these days that I ignore most of it. I am waiting for a very important e-mail from a woman I have dubbed Awfulsauce. But that is a story for later in this blog post.

CHICKEN!

I’m listening to a really good song right now – “Warning” by Great Northern. Hmmm… I should remember them and check out the rest of the album (I love you Pandora…. Loooooooveee youuuuu).

Back to the bitching. So, to torture me, I keep getting e-mails about the status of my former site. I then, in a knee-jerk reaction, purchased two new domains, which I will be working on getting up and running in the coming days. Thank god my other site is hosted by Squarespace… didn’t lose anything, just the name.

Fucking douche.

In the same month, our car was hit in the parking lot at New Seasons and our radio died. It’s not actually dead. Dead would be okay. Dead would not tempt me by playing music at mid level and now allowing me to change the song. Dead would not tease me with a radio button that doesn’t work. Dead is fine. No, the damn thing half-works. I need to order a new faceplate from Alpline. I just haven’t. Our car also got banged up by some fucktard at New Seasons when I ran in to grab lunch. It’s not worth filing an insurance claim, it just looks like shit. I wish someone would throw the car off a cliff.

No radio.Bad paint job when we had it fixed from the accident and a radio that was never installed correctly when it got ripped out last summer.

I hate that car, but I miss NPR in the morning.

School was amazing. This is the first term that no one was graduating, so when we would normally trod off to thesis readings, we had time, and lots of it. Too much time, if you ask me,  because idle hands do the devil’s work and apparently my devil really likes to drink (I know this is a shock to you all…it’s okay. I only really drank to excess 2 out of the 6 nights we were there). There were again jokes that were made that still make me giggle, but Zorro just isn’t funny to other people (It happens…in your EYE!). I ended the week with a less functioning liver, many bug bites, a new thesis project, grass stains on my favorite jeans, mystery bruises, corgi hair on my sweater,  a fun button that mentions my Twitter addiction, new friends, and lots of big dreams.

So, speaking of dreaming. I have had the lovely Calie as a crit partner for 2 years now (god help her). We were told that we had to have a third person in our group. Now, Calie and I are kind of snarky. We can deal with each others bitchiness and flaws because we truly love each other and we have no qualms about calling the other out. In truth – we are honest in the most vicious way. This attitude and way of working is not feasible for many of our school cohorts. Only the strongest of bitches can put up with us, and that woman would be Ven. Now Venessa is a recivitus, and a full time editor. She’s also willing to spank me, so it is the best of all worlds.

During the residency, a few agents came to work and speak with the alums. I am techincally an alum, but since I am back in school to get the “F” or get “F’d” as it were, I didn’t have a chance to participate in any of the alum stuff. They had pitch sessions that the alums could sign up for, and Ven was in charge of getting them filled up and keeping the agents happy (that woman is a workhorse and can juggle monkeys. I’m sure she can.), which mean getting all the pitch sessions signed up for. We were upstairs, and I think I was probably bitching about day 3 of my hangover when she demanded I go downstairs and sign up for a pitch session.

Truth? I’ve never written one.

Truth? I don’t have a synopsis.

Truth? I hate talking about my book because I always feel like I’m saying the wrong thing.

Truth? I was scared shitless.

Ven and I went to the room to sign up. A woman was signing little tickets for the raffle next to us when I began bitching about not know what the hell I was doing. The woman, with a hungry smile, sat me down and had me practice pitch to her, had me answer some questions (It made me feel amazingly stupid when I didn’t realize what my conflict was) and then proudly told me that I’d just pitched. Then Ven told me who it was.

One of the agents.

Who is known to be beastly.

And then I signed up to do a formal pitch. I still had an entire class to get through prior to the pitch. I will admit to not paying one iotia of attention. I wrote my pitch. Ven was in the class with me and found a lovely handout generated by another student that walked us through how to write one. It was an amazing document. So, we both wrote our pitches (she was to go right after me), and then I snuck out of class early to go downstairs and deal with the agent.

I heard her reject someone right before I went in.

My stomach fell into my toes.

And then with a laugh that could shake buildings she called me in. I don’t know if it is polite to state who I spoke with (I’m going to err on the side of caution here), but she made me laugh. She was so easy to talk to  and her laugh was inflectious, but she still scared the hell out of me.

Then she requested a full manuscript.

I didn’t pitch my book. She liked me. So, she wanted my book.

Life is strange.

I tried to hug her later and she kicked me (or poked me… I may have a been a touch overserved), but Awfulsauce seemed happy to meet me, and I was more than pleased to meet her. Now I’m just waiting for my first, ever rejection. At least it’s going to be a big one. By the way, in her contacts list, my profession is listed as: Awesomesauce. I met another lovely agent during the weekend, but I think I was too drunk when I tried to pitch to him. He may or may not have asked for pages, but I was so embarrassed about my drunkenness then I didn’t send a damn thing. I am only regretting it a little.

I am also starting on a new thesis project. When I wrote my first book (which was my thesis for my MA), I had no clue what I was doing, or what I was getting myself into. I painted myself in a few corners with the story and the limits I set for the characters. I felt comfortable with those characters though, so I started book 2 with my MFA. That sounded like a grand idea but I’m tired of those annoying little buggers. In all honesty, they are not cooperative and the characters I want to focus on decide to retreat to the shadows and pout, or smoke crack, or make fingerpuppets out of napkins. I don’t know what the hell they are doing back there, but they are not helping the story. I’ve had another idea, a type of female character I’ve wanted to write for a while. So when I submitted a peice to be critiqued at school I wrote something new, something that made me happy, something I had fun writing. The peice was well recieved. My DeMentor lead the workshop where we cut it to peices, but overall, they liked it. And I like that they liked it. And then the DeMentor turned to me and said, “You are changing your thesis to this, right?”

I smiled. The bastard was right. Book 2 has not been fun to write. However this new thing has been. And I’m getting all crazy and writing in first person (Calie is going to kick my ass for this because I generally hate 1st person, but she’s doing it pretty well… maybe I can too). So that will be what I’m working on for the next 6 months.

Oh, and I got an iPad. I LOVE IT.

I think that covers most of the madness in the last few weeks. I should get back to working on things that need to be completed. My life is going to be wicked busy come these next few months. Things I am looking forward to: World Fantasy Con, the Willamette Writers con thingy in August, dealing with some family stuff, a trip to Seattle with a close friend, and my freaking birthday. I don’t care much for the birthday, but the rest of it will rock. Now, back to your regularly scheduled madness….

Oh. Yeah.

It was in the living room when I was sleeping.

And I never set the alarm. Go me.

The Thanksgiving weekend ended with a whimper. I am constantly reminded how different I am from the rest of my family. It’s not a bad thing, just an observation. But this visit was clouded with the coming doom – our move from the house on 33rd. I should have known the place would be trouble. I used to work near 33rd in Orlando – which is the prison. Fun times. 33rd is not a nice street – or so I have convinced myself. So, while my normal mood would be cheerful and fun, I found myself very short tempered and prone to sullying a day of thanks with a feelings of self-pity. That’s not the way to spend the holiday. Frankly, I think everyone was on edge. My Mom is muddling through a divorce right now, and her mother died this summer. Alexis is dealing with the divorce in her own way and her husband is overseas. Derick’s job is in a serious slowdown due to the economy. It felt like the entire vacation was colored by ick. Still, there were highlights, like the perfect tofurkey, my brother becoming a drunk Liger and biting my sister (who are both in their late 20′s, I might add), having my sister ask what the best and worst part of our day was with my brother and I answering “The worst was waking with a hangover, and the best is that the hangover is gone.” We shopped, and I bought a new sweater (my mother, of course, had to snarkily comment that it was black), drank too much, and purchased 50 bucks worth of David Hill Farmhouse Red because we didn’t get to go to the vineyard.

David and I, on top of hosting guests, had to go look at houses this weekend. For the money these people are charging, you sure don’t get much. We want to stay in the NE part of the city for many reasons, most of which are because we have ties here – my gym, D’s chiropractor, the parks, and our favorite breakfast place. We looked at two houses that DID NOT offer appliances. One was completely devoid of appliances, and the other had a stove. But most importantly, they were run down. I know what several coats of paint does to a cupboard, and how it sticks. There were 2 houses we have liked so far – on on NE Buffalo and another on NE 58th. The Buffalo house is bigger, with no appliances. It was remodeled recently, but the pergo floor was already bubbling up, and while it had three nice sized bedrooms, the carpet was absolute crap and looked like something Pip would chew on. The other one, on 58th is TINY, and I mean tiny, but when D and I walked up, David said “I have hope on this one.” We haven’t had a lot to hope for recently, so I pounced on it. Well, okay, I’m lying.

I got all pounc-ful (no, not a word in the dictionary unless you write it in, but it makes sense) after this snotty woman and her overly jovial mother walked up. I smiled at her, and she sneered “I’m here to look at the house too.”

Really?

Guess who put her application in FIRST, bitch.

But beyond my pissing contest with the woman, and the fact that it’s tiny, the place is adorable. It’s a little 50′s house with small bedrooms, a tiny living room with a WORKING fireplace (more on that holyshitIlovethishouse excitement later), a massive basement (fully carpeted), a sunny kitchen, and a backyard for my creatures. There were tons of birds and squirrels, with grape vines growing up the arbor, and a funky japanese maple in the front yard (good tree, love that tree!). And the garage is as big as the damn house. Oh, and it has an opener too! Groovy stuff. So, we applied yesterday. I am hoping to hear back tomorrow.

Today, I finally called and spoke with my landlady. My first instinct, because I feel like shit, was to give her holy hell. I did make her feel bad, pointing out that we were leaving as soon as possible because she failed to pay her mortgage.

Then she tried to sell me the house.

I politely declined and explained to her that we needed her as a reference. She needed to answer her phone when people called her and stop letting things go into voicemail. She also wanted copies of the notices left on our door. After stalling for a few minutes, stuttering as I took her to task for being such a shithead for putting us in that situation…..

She tried to sell me the fridge.

I politely declined, but told her I was interested in the washer and dryer. We will take that with us, I think.

She didn’t ask about rent, which is due tomorrow, nor about our deposit. I just want the bitch to answer the questions so we can get a new place and be done with this mess.

And now I am off to complete my day. I found a lot of boxes at work, so I will pack the trunk with those and hope that this whole thing goes smoothly. Regardless, we have a lot of packing to do. Send us good vibes. We want that house on 58th. It fits us. It needs us. And I want a happy place to rest my head.

The mailman arrived, although the beagles didn’t get up for his arrival. One peice of mail is from the Vet, telling us Puck is overdue for his heartworm, and the other is from Rollins.

I graduated from Rollins last year. I think I still owe the library 53 dollars for a book I swear I turned back in, but found after my move. The letter is from the Bursar’s office:

Greetings from Rollins College Office of the Bursar. A recent internal review revealed that you have a credit balance on your account. This credit was derived from financial aid that was credited to your account but not refunded to you. Enclosed, please find the check for the outstanding credit. Please accept our apologies for the delay.”

MMmm…. kay. So I open the check – it’s for $2,116.09.

I call D.

“How much did you kiss the Blarney Stone this week? Jesus?”

“I think I fellated it.”

Rent is paid. While I do have a jobby job, I won’t get paid for 2 weeks, so things would be tight, but this helps out in ways I can’t say.

My life/luck/karma has turned completly around. And if you are one of my friends from Rollins and graduated the same semester as I did, you may want to give a shout to the Bursar’s Office…. you never know!

D and I talked a long time about the money and the fact that it could be up to a 3 hour commute from the house in the winter with the Beaverton office. Add overtime, and that’s just not feasible with my schedule. So, I start on Monday, but I honestly think I start on Tuesday. It’s not my dream job, but it’s going to be nice to work for a company that is dedicated to enviornmentalism. And I don’t think I’ll be the only vegetarian there, thank god!

Dr. Roberts called and said the mass is gone, or more importantly, now she doesn’t think there was ever a mass. When a set of blood vessels clumps together, it usually means that the body is feeding nutrients to a mass, which could be cancer. But I took the wait and see approach. We chose to wait 1 month, to see if the diet change and the drugs shrank the mass. Now she thinks the diet change and the drugs healed an exposed burst blood vessel in the bladder. It can look the same as something growing because of the concentration of blood. He doesn’t need surgery. He doesn’t need anything, except to stay on that stinky food she has him on. That’s not going to disappoint him one bit.

And I can stop the drugs now. She thinks they helped with the inflammation.

Oh! And the wormy issue — they used to sell pills to feed to the cat in order to get rid of the worms. Now they have this liquid which you apply on the neck like flea medicine. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. My cat likes to channel Freddie Kruger when you try to put anything near his face, including pills. Although, when D and I tried to apply the stuff, he freaked out and tried to bite me. Poor guy had a rough day, and he tried to suck up 5 minutes later.

While the job prospects really buoyed my mood, knowing my Valentine is okay has kept me on cloud 9 all night. I think the tide is turning on my luck. I really do.

The party ended up at the casa. Now, the hallmark of a good night is that I don’t remember part of it. And ladies and gents, I don’t remember going to bed at all. The last thing I remember was drinking my wine, sitting on the porch. My BIL smuggled some wine back from South America for me, one being a bottle called “Gato Negro” —and I fucking drank it but was too intoxicated to remember why I liked it. I also apparently bought the Rent soundtrack for some reason while I was blitzed. Oh well, now D can listen to me sing Seasons of Love over and over and over again.

The vineyard was amazing. D and Manderpants and I had a blast tasting the estate wines, talking to the people who owned the place, and I found a Chardonnay I actually liked. Because Amanda and I are total dorks, we joined the wine club. Huzzah! And I bought quite a bit of their wine. It’s going to be saved for special occasions, because I’m good like that.

The presents I got were amazing. Mom bought me a necklace, and gave me some casssshhh to help out. She hates giving us money, but I promised her I would buy something nice with it —- so I bought wine. She appreciated it. Amandapants bought me a cool purple plant, and we are going to take a class together at New Space in the fall – her treat. I can’t wait! Chris bought me wine and these really cute bowls (picture forthcoming)…. I think my friends think I’m a lush ! Ahhh… gotta love being a wino.

We got some bad news about the car. D noticed that our tires are shot…and I mean undrivable. So we are carless until we can get some new tires put on the damn thing. Can I just tell you, I will be really happy when July is over with. This month sucked sooooo hard. But, on a good note, I gotta lot of booze.

I hope your week goes well. To my Seton Hill kids – write on!

One thing I find interesting, as more of a general comment, is that when I go back and look at the archives, I still self-edit. I didn’t get fully into how hurt and pissed I was when Natalia left me in Gainseville, nor the misery that ensued when I found out indirectly via Myspace that A got married, nor how the Dogfather’s distance turned into total silence. Those things really effected me. They still do. Those events laid the groundwork for the current issue(s), and how I will ultimately handle them. And again, I will try to figure out what I did wrong. But sometimes people don’t do anything wrong. Could I have been a better person, a better friend? Shit, yes. We all can, but I don’t think I’m to blame this time. With others, absolutly. I’ve paid my karma debt…. this one ain’t on me. But again….it’s time to move on.

And move on I have. D and I set about finalizing the bday plans for this weekend. Miss Amandapants, D and I are all going to a vineyard for the day. Lex won’t make it down to later in the day so she and Gregg are going to do the slumber party thing. Actually, this entire thing has turned into a slumber party. We all plan on getting pretty sloshed at the restraunt. Why? Because of the margartia list, and I loves me some margaritas.

Anyone got a spare air mattress? I don’t want Amanda driving home after margaritas. It’s just dangerous (and that woman is too fucking accident prone)…

The job hunt isn’t going terribly well. I’ve gotten no nibbles on my resume so far, but one can always hope. I just have to remind myself that I don’t have it the worst out there.

BTW…. I really like this song from Ladytron.

Here are some blanket observations from the last week or so:

• Batman was fucking fantastic. Brilliant. I have one beef & that’s Christian Bale’s “growly” voice when he’s the Batman. It bugs me…but the rest was fantabulous.
• When it comes down to brass tacks, family is all we have. Whether we include others within that sacred circle is a whole different issue, but I know when shit’s down, my sister and my husband will be there for me, and I’m a lot luckier than  most.
• I read KL’s blog daily, and I think I need a dictonary for military life. They have so many fucking acronyms! I want to lend a friendly shoulder and all, but I don’t understand half of what she talks about. It’s the same with my sister…. she has to translate mid-conversation. Does anyone have a handbook or a flyer I can read?
• I think Portland Roasting coffee is better than Stumptown. I may get flogged for this, but this girl’s got an opinion.
• No one lives in a vaccuum. This is where the hypocrite in me really needs to wake up and smell the bullshit, but I must remind the world that every action has a reaction, no matter how small. And that’s everyone’s responsibility.
• For school we have to post on a forum. It’s part of the required class structure. Race has been brought up as an issue in the program. People think WPF is too white (or doesn’t address other racial issues). I had to keep my mouth shut most of the time because I don’t think that’s what a school forum should be about. It’s supposed to be about writing, but I have to give the guy who brought the subject up a lot of credit. Even in this PC-loving world, there are underlying issues that a lot of people are uncomfortable discussing. That being said, there’s also the issue of beating a dead horse when people don’t want to address the issue. It’s a hard balance to maintain.
• I think websites don’t need a freaking soundtrack. I’ve spent a lot of time on the web, for jobs and such and the sites that start with audio really irritate me. I want to continue to listen to Ladytron or Dave Gahan without some elevator-music knockoff of techno blaring at me. /end rant
• My library doesn’t have the two books recommended by my mentor. I’ll have to buy them, but I really don’t have any room left on my shelves!

And here are some beagles for the rest of your day…

Only someone who is painfully idiotic or completly unaware would hand me a card that had “congrats to your new spawnling – it was a present from god” or some such shite on it, and actually expect me to sign it. Getting preggers isn’t that much of a miracle, at least not in my mind. It doesn’t take intelligence, and for many it’s not even a choice. For this mother it was, and so I signed the card, but the person who handed me the card irks me daily, and she, with her bible-loving heart, picked the fucking thing. No one in the office is religious, only this woman. Even the new mom is not a church goer, and I felt very uncomfortable signing a card that indicated something in which I don’t belive.

And the fucking thing was pink.

Someone please, just stab me in the eyeballs with the broad end of an umbrella.

—- Post Lunch —

Lunch: the rest of my morning coffee, funky pasta with vodka cream sauce, and some Depeche Mode. I almost like humans again.

I feel better. But food notwithstanding, that forcing religion on an office bullshit still pisses me off.

But I have happy things to talk about…like D’s job interview, C’s birthday dinner, and getting drunk watching Battlestar Galactica.

That last part…you know I’m a nerd-lady. So don’t hate. And please, don’t try to argue the fact that Starbuck is the hottest thing on television.You would be wrong.

So, back to D’s interview. While he’s happy-ish working for the big company he’s contracting with now, it’s still just a contract. No paid vacation. No benefits. Nada. And I won’t even get to the commute. D is bored out of his bald skull with the current job, and as such, has applied elsewhere. Also, it doesn’t make any sense to get to the end of a contract without prospects. But he found a company, downtown, short commute, that is offering him the same money as the company now, but full time with benefits. It would be perfect for him, and he said there wasn’t a cube-farm. Creative people don’t belong in cubes, and this place seemed to get it. They gave him the standard “well, we have a lot of people to interview…blah” but he said he felt good about it. And when he feels good, he gets the job. Besides, he was wearing his lucky bike chain bracelet, so he has to get it, right? Right. Now send happy ju-ju his way, or I will find you, cover you in peanut butter and sick my beagles on you.

I just realized, that’s probably someone’s fetish. My beagles should be spared that torture. So, never mind.

C’s birtday was great. We all went to Iorio, off Hawthorne and 9th. The place was packed, loud, and lacked the kind of decor that would really make it stand out. What did impress was the service and the food. I can forgive a big square red room for the food we had. C was kind enough to make sure there were veggie-friendly foods for D and me. One thing I love about Portland food is that they focus on local products, most of the good restraunts (and some of the less than stellar ones) make a point to focus on the best that the local farms, dairies, etc have to offer. That means the menu is different from season to season, so you can’t ever get bored. The server, and I wish I remembered her name because I just wanted to squish her, offered us the specials, and suggested wines. I fucked up and don’t remember the name of the wine I had, nor could I pronounce it, but I drank the hell out of it. It was a sparkling red. I really wish I remembered the name, damnit.

Now for the food. D had the goat cheese and butternut squash pizza. A handmade, thin crust, dusty with flour and crunchy on the tongue, held a smooth balance of cheese, dollops of the squash (which had been seasoned and purred) and caramelized onions. I Looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooove caramelized onions. I don’t care if they look like earthworms, they taste divine. He loved the pizza, and looked more than a little miffed when I kept stealing peices out of his hand.

Wait.

I forgot about the gnocci.

I devoured the best gnocci I’ve ever had the honor of tasting. Fresh, puffy, rich gnocci with wild mushrooms, snap peas, and truffle oil. I’ve never tasted truffel before. But, I could have bathed myself in those gnocci. They were heaven in a tater. And everyone agreed. Even C liked the mushrooms, and she doesn’t do fungus. LOVE. THE. GNOCCI!

C had the margarita pizza, B had some dish with meat in it, and Sarah had the mushroom and pepperoni pizza. I tried an eggplant dish, but have come to realize that I don’t like eggplant. It wasn’t that they cooked it poorly, but I’ve tried to force my taste buds to like eggplant, but it just never works. Luckily I had a plate full of hand-made linguine in a lovely tomato sauce. It was good stuff.

We finished dinner, with laughter, full bellies and some coffee.  B was kind enough to be our DD, thank god, because after that much wine, I’m fun company but would be a terrrrrrible driver. We headed downtown for one of the jazz clubs we’ve been meaning to see, but forgot that there was a parade going on. Traffic was awful, we headed back to the NE side of town, to go to our standby – Mississippi Station (Mmmmmm crack fries). After night fall, it cooled quite a bit, so I to have the propane heaters turned on. We managed to have one beverage, but they were closing. I razzed the server, who returned with a BIG apology because she couldn’t give me another glass of the new zin I love (again…forgot the fucking name), but handed me a peice of paper with the name and year of a good wine she thinks I’d like.

I’m turning into a fat wino living here, and I couldn’t be happier

One more thing, if you are looking for an amazing nursery (it’s small, but perfect) in Portland, take a look at the Pistils Nursery. The NICEST people work there. They answered all my questions. They have chickens. They have air plants, and tomato starters, and all kinds of rare stuff. I will be spending a lot of money there, soon, I’m sure. But I bought C’s present there. Perhaps she’ll take a picture so I can show you —- hint—-. Good place, and within biking distance. Did I mention the chickens?

Miss Amandapants met us for breakfast on Sunday @ Cup and Saucer. But we ended up hanging out all day. She’d never seen 3:10 to Yuma, and we have it on Blu-ray, so I made dinner, and we all snuggled into the couch for some movie watching. Oh, she did go with me to the grocery store. You know you are friends when someone is willing to brave Sunday’s shoppers for a cheap meal. And we managed to get into the 12 items only lane. I kind of wondered why the register lady was being so bitchy, but when she’d FINISHED ringing up 128 bucks worth of groceries, she finally pointed out my error. Honestly, Amanadapants and I spaced. He hadn’t intentionally pulled that move, but hey, shit happens. Move on. At least Amanda only had 3 things. I think she made up for my folly.

And now I am going to refill my coffee and think happy, non-homicidal, allergic to pink thoughts. I have class tonight, and that’s exactly what I need.

I’m only partially sorry for the rant in the beginning. Can’t keep that stuff pent up — it will give me cancer or something.

Instead of having the party at my house, I want to go on a dinner cruise.  My BIL will be back from his trip, and I will have had 1 solid month home from school. Lex’s kids are going to be dispersed throughout the country with relatives, and she can dump Monkey off with a neighbor. I love Monkey, I really do. She’s restored my faith in children, but there are no kids on this trip. And I am giving notice to all now, because it is a little pricey – 68 per person. But just consider that my b-day present and come along!

D and I went on a dinner cruise while we were in Florida. It was hot, but I remember hearing the ospreys and the birds screaching in the night air. And there were fireworks for some reason. It felt lovely, meandering on a lazy river, surrounded by strangers who wanted the same thing as we did – to stop for an evening and take stock of what’s really important ——— life preservers.

Yes, I know, I will be on open water. I think it will be okay. As soon as it feels like we are getting to where I know I have NO chance of swimming to shore, either because of Jaws,  a rabies infected Shamu or just because I’m not young and I can’t swim as far as I used to …well then I get nervous. So rivers are mostly okay. If I am in a big boat.

Kayaking – hell no.

Dinner cruise – why yes, that would be lovely.

And that’s enough rambling for one day.

And now to the weekend recap.

Thursday – We saw Indy @ the coolest theater ever – Cincetopia. Good food, and I’m not talking Enzian “frozen pizza disguised as gourmet” food – it was damn good food. I had a spinach artichoke dip, and D had mac n cheese with Gorgonzola. We also, because I’m a total lush, bought a bottle of wine. We met this cool biker named Eric, who just decided to go and see a movie since he was on his motorcycle and it was raining. So he came in, all covered in leather, and we chatted about animals who travel, food, where to go in Oregon, and the fact that it was his 44th birthday. The dude was seriously cool, very friendly, he giggled and he had these really cute freckles on his nose. He was born in Oregon, and loved Portland, but couldn’t afford to live there, so he lived in the Coove. He told us he sculpted grotesque garden gnomes. He was just a lot of fun. The movie itself was a good time as well. It’s a summer popcorn flick, and I loved that it didn’t take itself too seriously. Not my favorite, by far, but I still had a damn fine time.

Friday – Worked, and then D and I went to Mississippi Station for dinner and some wine. Amandapants called us on her way to the Gorge for the Sasquatch Festival. I felt bad, because she had 4 hours to drive (I think she called me around 6) and would be erecting her tent in cold rain. D and I ate dinner, and chilled outside for a while. The weather wasn’t cooperating this time though, so we went back to the house, and continued to beverage. Now I made the mistake of going to Fred Meyer and getting these bags – if you buy 6 bottles of wine you get 10% off…..so…. I did. That meant we had too much wine onhand for the night. That meant we drank too much. But D and I talked, like we haven’t in ages, about anything and everything. And the wine flowed, and I fell asleep and the world was spinning.

Saturday - Good morning Hangover! D was kind enough to take the beasties to the groomers so I could sleep a little. Then we walked to our breakfast place, where they were kind enough to fill me full of stuff so I could stop feeling bad. The sun was trying to shine through long breaks in the clouds, but it was far from the shitty weather we’d had earlier in the week. Then D and I walked to New Seasons, grabbed groceries for our trip and headed home. The Dogs still weren’t finished so we also went to Moosey, had lunch, and as soon as I got home, I needed a nap. I passed out. D got the call that the dogs were finished, and again, went alone to take care of them. I’m a shitty beaglemommy. But they got me back, pouncing me on the bed, bouncing me into wakefulness, and ushering us out of the house, ready to head to Lex’s house.

That part of the trip, I have to say, was blissful. The traffic between Portland and Tacoma can get quite awful (for you Florida folk – think I-4, but down to 2 lanes, for a lot of fucking miles). But everyone left on Friday, so I put on the cruise control and just chilled. Till I saw the first State Trooper. Okay, sloooooow down. So then I was only going 10 miles over the speed limit. Then I saw my second State Trooper and D gave me that look “you get no stuff (see: video games, bags, music, books, etc) if you get a ticket.” I slowed the car down to 5 miles over and we watched the pretty lights of the police sparkled and whirl from the side of the road throughout the 2 hours it took to get to Lex’s house. But there was no traffic. I was happy.

We got to her house, and I started a pasta dinner – home made sauce, veggie pasta (you know, the carrot, spnich, beet, and that white-stuff pasta), and fresh garlic bread. My sister recently got involved in Pampered Chef. For me, it could be dangerous, but I was safe becase D stood in the kitchen as she did her little song and dance, and the only thing he didn’t scowl about was the knife. It’s a good knife. Me wants sharp thingies. Anyway, so I finished Dinner. My one nephew – J – will eat anything, and thinks I’m gods fucking gift when it comes to cooking. And that is why I love him best out of that whole family (It’s okay Lex…. I know the smack is coming). My BIL also liked the food, but I think he just gets excited because it didn’t come pre-made out of a can. But the one I was most impressed with was my sister, who doesn’t like to try new things. She didn’t dislike the sauce, it just wasn’t…

*hurk*

Ragu

*puke*

We finished dinner, drank, and then went to bed.

Sunday – The BBQ started at 11. Yes, that is very early for Meow and her ever sleepy huzzie, but the neighbor who loves us was cooking our mushrooms special, so we had to get up and get out to the park by 11.

We got there around 11:30…it was close.

One thing I’ve noticed, and I’ve commented on this to my friends IRL, is that my sister puts up with a lot of shit from people on base. There are cliques that are impossible to ignore, and as such, it takes me a while to get comfy. When everyone was eating, I felt out of place. D and I took the dogs to the field and let them run, and when we came back, the women were sitting with their kids and the menfolk were scraching their nuts and congraduating each other on their manliness. Then someone pulled out a baseball, and all the boys went to play. That left us, the womenfolk, D and the dogs, to bullshit. D and I took to the field again, trying to keep Puck from eating deer shit (and rolling in it —that bastard ALWAYS gets funky after the groomer….he goes for starcrunches, opossom poop…what ever. I think he resents getting bathed and wearing those cute little bandandas), and running around exhausting the dogs. Lex’s doggy – Smeagol – okay his name is Casey, but he looks like Gollum. I’m just sayin’…

D and the rest of the group ended up playing kickball. I didn’t. Why? I was bleeding like a dying animal, and someone had to keep the dogs from going apeshit. Everyone, and I mean everyone, got burned. Okay, except for one of the neighbors, but all the white people, like my husband – —— looooobster time.

And I really do have more to write….the best dinner, my attempt at asparagus, the drive home, my exhaustion, but work calls. Let’s see if I get unlazy enough to ride when I get home. Or I could take a nap.

And thanks to all of you who sent happy vibes, text messages, prayers, and asked for advice. It may not have seemed like it…but it means a lot.

I realize there’s a lot to catch you up on. But I’m not going to. X-mas was great at Lex’s house. My family is amazing. Apparently my father is eager to contact me. I find the cycle interesting — as my relationship with papa-san, the stepfather that never really ended up being my dad, ends — the sperm-donor, my daddy, wants back in. I am willing to see that through, although cautiously. I’ve wounded a lot of people in my time. I hope those wounds healed.

I head to Seton Hill on Thursday, on a red-eye, and I will be gone to school for 7 days. I’m hoping that this will help me move forward. I’ve been stuck in neutral for too long.

I hope you didn’t make resolutions….it’s easier just to change your mind.

And on that note….my onions are burning. Blessed Be

A placement company that I’ve been watching just e-mailed me for an interview. They want to place me permanently and one of the jobs was for a Jr. Tech Support/admin position. Dude — that’s essentially what I was doing before!! WHOSE YOUR DADDY!?!?!?

*note: I’ve been manic for 2 days…so pardon the overabundance of excitement*

I go in on Monday.

And they guy I spoke with on the phone heard my dogs (who decided to go apeshit over nothing), and said he brings his dogs into work and that I could meet his puppy on Monday!

I GOT AN INTERVIEW!!!

Mmm okay… Ineed to get off this cloud and get back to work.

The tide is turning….I can feel it

I snarkily laughed at this article in USA today. Gotta love the echo-chamber nature of conservative blogs. I’ve read a few that were written with intelligence and insight, that searched the meaning of the conservative movement. In general, those blogs offered ideas that almost made sense to me. Hate mongers line both sides of the isle, and people who parrot the party lines. I just wish poeple would stand and listen for a moment, all people, to make sure they aren’t being taken advantage of by their political persuasions .

I always thought this was a bad idea. But that’s just me.

It dawned on me a few days ago that I won’t be able to visit my sister until Xxxmas. We can’t afford the cost of the trip, especially now that I-5 is closed right, smack dab in the middle of my normal route. Those storms last week really did a doozy. For my readers in Florida, imagine if you lived on the coast and 95 was closed. — now imagine that between Lauderdale and Miami. It’s a bitch. The detour they planned out takes you 200 miles out of the way. A 2 – 2.5 hour trip will now take 5. Ouch. It kind of bums me out though. I want to go up or have her come down here, but that’s just not feasible right now. I think I’m pmsing or something.

It’s back to work for me.

We got some great news this week. D just took a 1 month contract from Nike for some work. We are so freaking broke right now, it’s not even funny, so this is a great break for us. It’s just contract work, and a limited term at that, but it’s something and it will keep us in tofu and heat for one more month. After that, it’s back to the grind of finding jobs. As for me, I’m blanketing Portland with my resume, but nothing’s come of it yet. As many times as I’ve rewritten it, I thought I would have a bite by now, but it’s all for nothing. I’m hopeful some of the recent positions I applied for will pan out. Gotta keep the chin up, that’s all we can do.

It snowed on Saturday!. Yeah, it was for 5 minutes, and nothing stuck on the ground — but I live somewhere it snows! How freaking awesome is that? Mt. Hood is blanketed by the snow now. I wish we had the money to go skiing (and the car — Vader won’t make it up the mountain without snow tires) , but that’s for next year.

We saw the Golden Compass on Saturday. I will just tell you that I loved it, and I haven’t read the books. D didn’t care for it and he’s read the books. He said the movies lacked the depth of the novels, and that we were spoiled by Peter Jackson’s interpretations of the LOTR novels . I didn’t care. I had a lot of “holy shit that was cool” moments, and I left the theatre happy. They played the Narnia preview – I hated the first movie. I won’t see the second.

So, I’m still cat-sitting. Bax and Margo are in my very lovely basement, chillin out with the fluffy pillows and blankets and every single cat toy in my house. They are here because Bax was taking out his anger at Amandapants on her clothing and peeing on her bed. We thought the basement would be easier for them. They’ve been there before, when Amanada moved to Portland, and because it’s not their home territiory, I didn’t think they would be as apt to show their displeasure. I was wrong. I went downstairs yesterday morning. Both a shoe box and my empty laundry basket had piss in them. Then I woke up this morning to find Valentine pissing in my sink! WTF? It’s nearly kitty death time.

Okay, now that I’m caught up on stuff, I eagerly await the arrival of miss C and Amanapants so that my crew gets back in town.Have a great Tuesday.

That’s not to say it was a failure. We cooked 3 different proteins to satisfy the 3 different types of eaters. D and I obviously had tofurkey. Mom made a turkey and a roast. Then there were smashed taters and all the other side stuff. Although this kitchen is much larger, I still found myself dancing around hot pots and beagles. And because I woke up later than I intended, we started cooking much later than we should have. Lex and I took a quick trip to the grocery store, and returned with those last minute items that we forgot in our initial shopping spree. Lex brought the family silver, and extra dishes. Amandapants’ casseroles were a hit. All day, the TV blared with football coverage, and D and I occasionally hid in the room.  C&B came later with home made pumpkin pie and banana bread. The pie was divine. I heard the bread was good, although my nephews and huzzie ate it for breakfast the following day, so I never got to try it. With dinner done, the booze began to flow, as it always does with my family.

Littlebro became a very drunk pirate, we all talked about family and goofy shit, and Lex and I ended up going to bed somewhere around 5:30 in the morning. Surprisingly, I felt fine the next day. I drank a lot of water. It’s a good thing. And hanging out with the fam for the rest of the weekend made me really happy, although my Mom was in a funk the entire time. She’s weeks into quitting smoking, and I think that those of us in the family that still smoke make it harder on her.  She promised to spend some time with me, but ended up getting frustrated and wanted to head back to Tacoma earlier. Even in Tacoma, she seemed distant. I am very well aware of the load on her plate — my grandmother’s continually failing health, and imminent divorce, issues with money, etc. I always think that I can make her relax and enjoy her time at our house, but she never seemed to get a chance to let her hair down. That, and she re-injured her knee just standing up, so she was in pain for most of her trip.

Saying goodbye didn’t really hit me until I got home from Tacoma. Then I sat in the house, it was quiet, and I wanted to cry. I can attribute this to little sleep, a lot of alcohol consumption, and no moving my tushie. It’s going to take time for me to right myself, but for now, it kind of sucks. I always want more time, more laughter, more… peace. But there’s something that always gets in the way. Real life doesn’t stop or stand still for those moments when I need time to connect….and now I realize I’m just rambling.

I’m overwhelmed with school stuff, and the pressing financial issues that are coming to a head now. Because D and I haven’t worked since we moved, we are almost out of money. That means no more trips to here and there, no more booze, pinching every penny because finding a job here is harder than I first anticipated.  I am hoping some of my attempts pan out soon, but if they don’t… well I don’t want to think about that.

It’s feeling like winter right now. The weather people are talking about snow and ice outside of Portland proper. I bought a scarf and gloves. This is true fall/winter weather, and I am loving it, when I leave the house. I even keep my hair down most of the time…it’s still strange having a full head of hair.

Amandapants’ cats are downstairs right now. She’s gone again, so I get to be kitty-aunt. They have a lot of room to lay about, but they are sticking to the little chair/tent I constructed so they have some place to hide. My goal is to keep them calm, to keep Baxter distracted so he doesn’t piss on anything, and to make this time away from their house as comfy as possible. They aren’t up to playing or coming out for treats, but I’m working on that. It isn’t helping that my cats keep sitting right by the door. They know someone is down there.

Tonight, the plan is to medicate myself to sleep, get up at a good hour (see: before 11), run, and get all of my school work finished. I’ll be scarce for the next couple of days. Solitude and rebalancing take time. So, have a happy week.

and I promise the next post will be full of cheer….

Hope you had a good deadturkeyday..

Lex, due to come to help me with the sewing machine again on Saturday, slept till 4 on , when she finally woke up, she threw (and I giggle at that image) the kids in the pimpmobile, and hauled ass down here. Meanwhile, Amandapants finished laundry. But on Saturday I think we finally solidified the menu for Thanksgiving. Lex and Amanda are working around the menu with me. This whole thing is  big deal to me. I live to entertain. Besides, D and I went to his familys’ house every year, and then we hung out with friends. This time around,  we are in a new city without that circle we used to have. It feels good to have the family here. My only concern is that my brother in law is allerigc to cats. I’m going to be vaccuuming the shit out of my house.

I printed out my novel (I’m working on it) and Amanda was here.

“Is that it?”

“What?”

“Your novel?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I just got goosebumps”

It’s hard to think about everything I need to do to this thing, but I’m still working on it.

Lex decided against going to Colorado for Xxxxmas. What does that mean? We are heading up to Tacoma (with Amanda in tow) to do the HappyJesusDay with them. Hopefully my family will come, at least my Mom. She’s hoping papasan will show up, but I doubt he will if he knows I’m going to be there. Then again, he may surprise me, because he loves his grandson more than almost anyone. I’m not sweating it though. I’ll be happy to be near the fam again.

D and I may have some great news in the coming weeks. Cross your fingers and your toes for us.

My nephews played Ratchet and Clank on my PS3. I have an egg timer. They can only play for an hour, but let me tell you, they had a good-ass time with that hour.

It  stopped raining. After I make dinner, I think I am due for a good run.

Now, It’s time to make salsa!

I’ve run 2 days in a row now. Taking responsibility for my illness is hard most of the time. I want to just take a pill, and then feel better. Not having insurance, a job, or money kind of kills that possibility. The solution is moving my ass. I’m not running fast, or elegantly, but my  heart rate rises and I can feel my muscles moving. It’s good stuff. D walks the dogs the opposite route through the park. They are good running partners, but they are easily distracted, so they often yank my arms off. The new game is called “hunt for mommy.” D lets them off the lead and they run up to all the runners looking for me. If Pip sees me, he hauls ass. I should take a video or something, because he can REALLY run. What’s amazing is that he can jump high enough to hit D’s shoulder, and he does it just for fun. I love my doggies.  If you know anything about me at all, you know that I love Ein dogs.  There are several that frequent the park. No matter how hard I’m running, or how out of breath I am, I laugh and smile each time I see my beagles, or the Corgis. They simply make me happy.