Moody Meow

D and I go to the Blue Moose Vegetarian restaurant every Wednesday. It has become a kind of ritual. Being mid-week , we love taking the time to process the week, readying ourselves for the last few days before the weekend. And the ritual was made especially enjoyable because of the owner of Sheila and the magnificent server, Lindsay. When Sheila sold the place (after a fire in the kitchen), Lindsay stayed on. She was the light of the little restaurant, welcoming everyone as a friend.

The food went downhill under the new management, which made me sad. It was my little place for comfort food. The rich soups with perfectly cooked beans and succulent vegetables eroded into pots of gruel-colored bean stews, overpowered by incorrect seasoning. When your soup comes out looking gray, you should worry. No amount of salt will help such a travesty. One night I ordered a meal, and it came to the table - stone cold. I almost ate  it, but couldn’t stomach the cold beans. When I told Lindsay, she blushed and her brow furrowed. I knew she was embarrassed.

That would never happen if Shiela still owned the place.

Lindsay has witnessed a lot of the goings on in mine and D’s life - from job loss to friend loss, she’s heard about much of it, always with a smile and an encouraging word. When she asked us about our week, I felt like she cared. I met her boyfriend when I went in for a random lunch. She had that “butterflies in the stomach” look about her. It was adorable.

D and I were known for having a few glasses of wine on our Wednesday night dinners. Moosey felt like home to us, so we thought nothing of eating a filling and healthy meal while talking about life over a few (3) glasses of wine. My favorite night was when we were the last ones there, and Lindsay stayed with us and chatted for a while. We learned more about her as a person, not just as a friendly server. She was always generous with her smiles and laughter, and thought nothing of our silliness.

And last night she e-mailed me. The new owner canned her.

That was a mistake.

I e-mailed her back and let her know that D and I wouldn’t go back to Moosey. The only reason we kept going was because she had become a part of our Wednesday ritual, and her smile (and the sometimes decent food) were enough for us.  But without that, I won’t risk getting a shitty meal and substandard service. The true soul of Moosey is gone. And now I am lost on on Wednesdays.

I know Lindsay will be okay. She just got her degree in mortuary science, and was already job hunting. I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed for her. We should invite her out for a glass of wine. The ritual doesn’t have to die, it will just change a little.

Calie, my wonderfully brilliant critique partner lives in Wilmington, NC. She called me from an Obama benefit where James Taylor was singing. Calie works in a theatre, and has many fun stories about the theatre antics. And I got an e-mail from her this week saying that she would be at the event. But the best part? She called me when he was singing “You’ve Got a Friend.” I will admit, I got a little teary eyed.

For Calie and all my friends…… James Taylor —

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It dawned on me, around 3 this morning, that I have a shitload of work to do. And on top of that, I believe that I wont get the funding I need for my next semester. Still not sure WTF is going on with that. I should ask someone. Let’s add that to our list of things to do. Here’s the list, just for school, as it stands now:

1. Finish writing the last chapters of my novel
2. Edit said chapters
3. Finish all the reading for school
4. Blog about the books I read
5. Ask someone about my financial aid

I have two weeks to complete that. Then, we have our normal, everyday things to do. You know:

• Feed the beasts
• Try not to kill beasts for being beastly.
• Work, every day
• Workout - at least 4 times a week
• Sleep, somehow
• Cook, because D won’t. He told me it’s safer for everyone involved. I think he just doesn’t want to.

While I am prone to panic, I’m trying not to. But this is fair warning to all my lovely online, school, and IRL friends - I will be a hermit for the next 2 weeks.

Text - do not call.

Text - do not e-mail.

Did I mention texting? If you don’t have my number - I guess you can e-mail me. No guarantees though. Oh, and I live on Twitter these days. It’s the easiest way to keep an eye on me (a nice way of saying spying).

D and I had a nice weekend, considering I spend a vast majority of it on the couch, with a dog, fighting for room and my blanket while I edited Calie’s stuff (her novel is fucking amazing). We found a new restaurant, pissed off Voodoo, walked the beasties, worked on homework, and talked.

D and I spent a lovely Friday dinner at The Blue Olive. We intended on venturing to a wine bar down the street, but balked when I saw how little vegetarian food they had. D and I were really freaking hungry. When we walked through the door, a dark haired woman with nice glasses greeted us. The dining room was mostly empty, but two tables were full of diners, loudly enjoying their plates of food. D and I both selected the Mediterranean platters - with hummus, pita, falafel, a Greek salad (full of cucumbers and tomatoes), roasted potatoes and a spinach and feta pastry (I know the name, my brain is misfiring at the moment. Need more coffee). The falafel - to die for. Crunchy, warm, well flavored, and the tzatziki reminded me of a place I used to go to in Miami. The hummus, a heaping helping of it, was seasoned beautifully thick and creamy. Honestly, there was a lot of food on the plate, although it didn’t look like much when we started. We also had a Malbec (yes I forgot the name of that too), which the owner had just added to the menu. D and I waddled out of there - overstuffed and blissfully happy.

On Saturday, we made a boo boo. Since we moved, we had a queen sized bed. It wasn’t that bad, but it started hurting D’s back. Then Pip decided he was supposed to sleep with us. I wouldn’t necessarily let him into bed, but he snuck under the covers - all stealthy ninja like. He’s a ninja beagle - I’ve said it before. So, I would wake up, sweating, because a 10000 degree beagle had wrapped himself around my feet. I also have a very different sleeping schedules.  The moral of the story is that I sleep on the couch a lot. Being that he gets up at 5, I don’t want to wake him. But we are tired of sleeping apart. He was tired of the never ending back ache. So, we went to look at beds.

Which means, we bought a bed.

I don’t know why I can’t just say “Hey, we are just shopping.” I think I’m allergic to sales people. The guy wasn’t an ass. He didn’t push the 3k bed on us (thank god, because I would have smacked him). We got a great deal on a king size bed.

Problem?

Yes. Puck is having a hard time jumping up to the bed. I know we don’t want the dogs sleeping with us, but they usually crash in the bedroom while we are gone. Puck has his own bed next to ours (he refuses to sleep with us), but I feel bad. He’s just not as sprightly as he used to be. And the bed is freaking tall. I used to laugh at the infomercials, but we are buying doggy stairs. If you call my dog geriatric, I will find you and thrash you with his lobster toy.

In other mundane and painfully boring news - I bought a crock pot! It’s been in the box for about a week. I really should do something with it.

Did I mention that I only have 2 weeks to finish all this stuff.

Let the panic begin!

Wordcampdx yesterday as any of you following my Twitter feed will know (sorry if it got a little nuts, but it was a little nuts there).  I learned a lot, and finally understand how much I need to learn if I want to be fully self-sufficent as a Wordpress user. That’s not to say that using Wordpress is difficult. It isn’t, as long as you want to use the prefabbed plugins and themes. I generally want to change things, not radically, but I like tweaking things to make them my own. That means that I like to have D tweak things until he makes them my own for me. That’s not exactly fair. It’s not his blog. It’s time to be a big girl and grow up a little.

Entering Wordcamp I was almost overwhelmed by the sheer number of people. They announced that they would let more people in, and I’m glad. I almost registered too late, intending on going, but trying to convince myself not to go because I wouldn’t know a soul there. We got t-shirts, name tags (I put my site address there, but I should have just put my Twitter name — EVERYONE was adding everyone to their twitter feed), and went into largest room for the first presentation. I could go through the entire run down, but it’s already been done, and more eloquently that I could write it. Oh, and if you look at the picture, I’m in there, messing with my freaking iPhone trying to take pictures. I should have just carried my Nikon with me.

So things I learned at Wordcampdx:

• Twitter is my friend.
• Stopping traffic on Grand Ave. is a lot of fun.
• I’ve only scratched the surface with what Wordpress can do.
• I need to make a stronger web presence (for both my sites).
• Portland is full of very friendly, helpful people who don’t make you feel stupid for asking questions.
• I’m obsessed with the stats tracker on my site, and Woopra is going to make it worse, but in the best way possible.
• Live blogging is fun, but I was too busy taking notes to do it.
• There are a lot of really cool, geeky women out there.
• Pita and falaffel are the food of the gods.
• Widmer makes great beer (I already knew this, but the keggers helped remind me).
• Wordpress 2.7 is going to rock.

I have a lot of work to do today for my novel, so I am going to get to it, but yesterday was one of the best days ever. And while I didn’t make it to the afterparty at the GreenDragon, I will make it to the other events there.

And I think I had a dream about blogging.

This is bullet-form day. I rarely have time to blog anymore with my schedule. Work is nuts, all the time, which is a good thing. I’m never bored, but there are rarely lulls that would allow me to blog. And by the time I get home, I just want to unwind.

• The Best Compliment - I finished Calie’s critique way late. I’ve been way late for most of this term, either to to emotional issues (it’s hard to write about hope when you don’t have any), technical issues, or life issues. The thing I’ve realized is that no matter how shitty my life gets, I can’t drag her into my mess. She deserves a good crit partner, and since we decided to go as a 2 person team, I’m all she’s got school wise (beyond her fucking amazing mentor). I sat down, over the course of several days, and critted the hell out of her story. I love the premise, and the world. I think she and I have similar problems in getting into a deeper POV, but she’s got an amazingly twisted mind and a fluid writing style. I read the submission all the way through several times so that I could digest things properly. When all was said and done and I turned it in to her, I waited for the e-mail saying “Moody, you bitch! Can’t you do this well?” but what I got was “You are the best crit partner ever.” She understand that my inclination to pick out things and ask questions is not beating up the story, it’s about dissecting it to make it a better story. It feels really good when someone understands and appreciates your intentions
• Going to #Wordcampdx tomorrow - I’m painfully nervous. I won’t know anyone, but I am braving the wilds anyway. What is it? Look and see. I hope to meet some interesting people, learn more about the abilities of Wordpress, and figure out how to make my writing site more interesting. I’ve been on MoodayMeow since 2003 in some ideration or another, but if I plan on becoming a professional writer when I grow up (which will be when I turn 50, I’ve decided… I have a few years) then I need to establish a professional, interesting web presence. And I love social media, so joining my blog and twitter or the other technology crack I’m addicted to — it’s good stuff. Oh! And there’s a copyright section! I had plans to put parts of my book up, but worried about copyright. Hopefully this will answer some questions. It’s an all-day event, and it won’t leave me much time for editing my own writing, but the deadline’s not till Tuesday. I should be okay.
• I had more to write, but I’m crazy busy. Maybe tomorrow?

Go to a “special” women’s group - It’s no surprise to many of you (and if it is, sorry! ) that I am way freaking out of the closet with my sexuality. I’m Bi, and proud of it. No, it’s not a phase. Yes, I can be bi, monogomous, and married. No, I don’t want a threesome, please drive though. But what I am interested in is meeting like-minded people with similar experiences and feelings on personal issues. I found a group of bi women that meet regularly through meetup.com, so I joined the group (and the very spirited forum) and went today for my first meeting. I brought a good friend (thank the goddess you are in my life! even though you don’t read my blog, you bitch!) and we ventured forth to Sellwood and a groovy little new age store. The group was spirited, opinionated, and full of beautiful women of all different kinds. I felt like a total ass, being slightly insecure and totally shy (yes, I can be shy), so I didn’t feel like I had control of what I was saying. I’m like a puppy who gets too excited when new people are around and I just blurt out what ever’s in my head. The conversation ran the gamut - from what being “bi” really is to how to approach other bi women. Because I felt like I made a total ass out of myself, we high tailed it outta there so I could lick my wounds in private. But I am really excited to be a part of this group of women. Let’s see if I can be a little more eloquent next time.

Go to a photography class - Miss Amandapants gave me the best gift a friend could ever give - she and I are taking a photography class together at New Space. It’s the ‘holy shit now you have a digital camera and you don’t know how to use it dumbass” class. Mmmm.. kay - it’s not exactly that title, but you get the idea. We wanted to go for some of the more advance classes, but I honestly need to learn a lot more about my Nikon before I get all fancy. The class is a gift for my burpday. We can’t wait.

Go To Bloggy type things - I signed up to go to WordCamp PDX. I’ve been a Wordpress user for years, but there’s a lot more I would like to learn. I’m really excited about the session on Copyrights and the other session that discusses integrating other system with a wordpress blog (like Twitter, my new addiction). It’s going to be fun! While it’s not till the end of the month, it’s still on my calender of things to do. I love having a calender like this.

Go to Vinideus - D and I are fond of this place. We brought Miss Amandapants with us on Friday, and I think she fell in love too. The atmosphere is quite chill. I love going into a place and being welcomed personally. The owners are congenial and warm and all of their suggestions have been spot-on. They also have wonderful desserts. It’s a great way to spend a Friday.

Go searching for the house you almost took - On Saturday, D and I drove up to Linnton to see if we could check out the house we almost took up there - It was the scary one my sister looked at. The drive up took us behind the industrial area on 30, and north of the St. John’s Bridge. When D and I finally remembered the road (he has a memory like a steel trap), we shimmied up, and almost turned down into the driveways. I decided I would have loved it up there, but it would have made the experience of moving to Portland completly different. Where we live now is in the heart of a very active neighborhood (Concordia), and full of traffic and people and energy. The place in Linnton had all the majesty nature could provide, but the human element was missing. I can’t say I’m 100% happy with the house we have now, nor could I say I would have been 100% happy with that place, but it does have the natural element that the city limits are missing.

I hope you had a lovely weekend….and now I have to call my sister back.

I’m drinking a red. Not much of a surprise there, but it’s called “Red.” Sometimes wine names are so profound.

I’ve got a lot to say, but I’m dead-ass tired. So, here are snippetts, because that’s all I can muster.

• Wool Coats - I thought we were headed for the heart of autumn, D and I hunted for winter coats. We bought some half assed coats last fall and froze through most of the cooler weather. This time I found a great wool coat that complements my womanly figure. I love it. It’s heavy, black, military inspired, but more fashionable. I think all that time off watching “What Not to Wear” really rubbed off on me.
• I Heart my iPhone - D and I did what irresponsible people do and finally switched phone companies with that 2k check I received from Rollins. I have wanted an iPhone since they came out, and by George, we got em. And it is as spiffy and groovy as I thought it would be. The funny part, in a not so funny kind of way, is that the functionality that I ached for - being able to check e-mail, facebook, websites, without detection, is an unnecessary thing now. My current employers don’t give a shit where I go to, as long as I get the job done. But it’s good to have the capabilities with GPS. I’ve already used it once …..while on my bike…. and no, you are not allowed to laugh.
• The Job - so I think I already stated that I took the job with the laid-back solar company. If you got creative, you could figure out which one it is, suffice to say, I love it. It’s so fucking busy that I get there  and I get to 11 or 12 and realize I haven’t finished my coffee, my apple or all the phone calls I need to make. Laid back is not EVEN close to the truth there, but for all their laid back ways, they are very serious about the business. There is also a shop dog - Brutus, who is a springer spaniel. He’s my work boyfriend. Overall it’s really unorganized (which is why I got hired), laid back, bike friendly, and the easiest commute of my life. And the people, I love the people so far. I think a few of them could become good friends. I can tell you, there is a lot of laughter, a lot of lenienacy, and a lot of responsiblity, but I love it. It feels very strange to work somewhere where I don’t have to hide my tats, I can wear my big-ass earrings and no one says a thing. Did I mention the shop-dog?
• Biking - I have biked to work, and got lost trying to come home. Yes, only me. Suck it. I can’t bike this week due to the monthly rebellion of my uterus, but I will get back in the saddle shortly.
• I’m on Googlemaps - if you google my address, go down my side street, you will see me sitting on the porch, smoking. It’s from last summer. Just to make sure, I had Streetview slide down the street a little further, and sure as shit, there was our car. I don’t know why, but it amused me.
• The Green Microgym - I joined a gym, but one with a special twist. Go to the link, and you will see what I mean. It’s about 20 blocks from the house, an easy bike ride, and I plan on taking advantage of their REALLY killer hours. The Owner, Adam, was super nice and very excited about the battery systems on the bikes. When I told him I worked for a solar company, we kind of geeked out about watts and whatnot. I’m a total dork, but I thought it was right to support a local business trying to make a difference. Besides, I got in on the introductory deal and my membership is less than 30 bucks a month for the life of the membership. How can I go wrong?
• Smoking - Yes, you can be proud of me. But I still wish I had a clove, especially when I drink.

I am going to sleep now. Sweet dreams little world. Keep the good thoughts flowing.

Friday was fantastic. Miss Amandapants invited us out for dinner and dancing. Now, I loves to dance. I can shake my groove thing with the best of the them, but we haven’t been out dancing in eons. Going to the booty club with my sister doesn’t count. Well, it does a little. I danced to “Groove is the the Heart,” that night, but not to much else. And I think I got too drunk ( I know …shocker! ) but we had a good time. But dancing on Friday night was to my kind of music with my kind of crowd. But, let me start with dinner.

We ate at a Morracan restraunt called Marakesh. Walking into the place, you are transported to a foreign land where sitting on the floor looks comfy and pillows are actually chairs. The server escorted us through groups of very jovial diners and full tables. We had to watch our feet so we didn’t step on anyone, and because the carpets were quite pretty. The table we sat at backed against a ginormous table of very loud patrons. But they seemed happy. The menu dumbfounded me, but that’s because I’m too used to American pricing. We were going to pay 18.50 per person for a 5 course meal. Then she offered mango mimosas…..mmmmm. I had 2. The meal started with a bean soup, thick with tomatoes and spices. I even ate the chickpeas. Next was the “salad.” On a huge plate they brought out a pile of babaganoush surrounded by a tomato-cucumber “salad.” It seemed more like a salsa fresca with different flavors. All in all, it was delish. We ate it with anise-spiced bread. Then came the crack. The B’stilla - I would like to go there just for 14 or 15 of these devilishly-delish pastries. D and I shared the vegetarian option, which was stuffed with spiced egg and potato, raisins, almond, and green onions, baked into a phyllo dough and dusted with powdered sugar. There was a touch of sweetness with the sugar, but it didn’t overwhelm the savory pastry. Finally, the main dinner arrived. I ordered roasted veggies with saffron rice. Honestly, it was the most underwhelming part of the meal for me. While the veggies were roasted perfectly, the rice tasted a little bland and the vegetables overpowered it. D ordered the Breka, a much better selection. At the end of the meal they sprinkled our hands with rose water and served sweet (very) mint/green tea and a chopped fruit salad. The meal was outstanding and very very affordable. It’s one of those dinners that is more of an experience than just a meal. Prior to the restraunt getting VERY full (it ended up packed to the gills), a belly dancer provided the diners with a nice show. It made D happy.

Miss Amanda invited a friend, J, to come to dinner with us. We had a blast talking, laughing, ribbing each other and Amanda. It felt great to meet someone else from Portland, and she was born and raised here. I know Portland natives are a rare species (kind of like Florida natives).

Now, I forgot the name of the club, but it was deep downtown. They had 80’s night, and thankfully it was 21 and up. As we tromped up the 3 flights of stairs, I feared for myself if I got too intoxicated. I joke about “drunk tests” all the time, but I can only imagine the number of people who had stumbled down the stairs to a painful end. The corridor going up to the club narrowed as we walked in. The place was very small, with one bar, 3 bathrooms, a few chairs and couches and a nice big stage and dance floor. Who needs a lot of room for the wall flowers if there is enough room to dance?

We got there VERY early, so we got to watch the regulars stake their space on certain sections of the dance floor. I forgot about the stereotypes you see at clubs: the guy who has been going since the beginning, the DJ’s attention-hungry girlfriend, the older couple who dances together and doesn’t give a shit, the awkward boy dragged into the dancing against his will, the air-humpers…. it’s funny. You can change cities but there are the same types of people who go to clubs all around the country.

I danced… a lot. And it was great watching Miss Amandapant’s face, the shock and surprise, when D started to dance. Dude, my man has rhythm, but he will kick you so get out of the way. The one thing that surprised me ? I didn’t really want to smoke. I worked my ass off…the best kind of workout in my mind. And now I remember why I was so skinny in my early 20’s - I danced ALL THE TIME (oh…and I didn’t eat much and the drugs helped….. but I’m just sayin’). We had so much fun. I observed the following:

• A girl in a faux-hawk dancing to Billy Ocean’s “Get out of My dreams”
• the floor cleared when the DJ played “So Alive”…my huge WTF moment of the evening
• Tiffany and Bauhaus on the same night?
• Female cockblocking - women can be total passive aggressive douches when they like someone
• the wandering cock of a lonely male
• how bad some people dance

And I want to go out and dance again this Friday! But the The Clone Wars comes out on Friday, and I want to see it.

August is Go By Bike month! (although I’m not sure whether this is local or not)…but go to the site. Take a look  - especially if you are local, and give a try to going by bike!

It’s been a rough week overall. I have very supportive friends that are helping me through being out of work, but then I found out that I’m not eligible for unemployment this quarter. If I file in September, then I am eligible, but right now I don’t have enough hours. It’s a screwy system that isn’t making my life easier. This makes my job hunt more urgent. I bathed myself in misery yesterday, wallowed in the impossibility, and then pulled myself up by the bootstraps and got to working through my feelings of hopelessness.I also managed to take a shower, which is a huge thing when one is depressed.

Miss C showed me my birthday present yesterday It’s freaking beautiful. I don’t know the artist’s name (help me out C!!) but once I take a picture you will love it. It’s a print by a modern artist who took the “Last Supper” by DaVinci and turned it on its ear. It’s the last supper in McDonalds. Trust me, it’s fucking amazing.

While wandering around Portland, in search for a place to satisfy my Duny collecton, Miss C found this place, and we’ve been going there ever since. They have a gallery where they show modern artists, and that was where we found this person. It’s a great place. The staff are really nice (especially the guy in the gallery that we talked to) and they have Dunys. It’s a happy place.

I’ve blanketed Portland with my resume. I haven’t written much at all because I’m so freaked out about the money, but my job right now is to write the novel, work out, and get the doggies in better shape. Valentine’s thing will work itself out. We will do what we have to do, but for now, I need to write, apply to 3 jobs that interested me, and then get some serious writing done. Oh, and I am due to head to the library because my mentor assigned me a few books.

D and I are going to see the Dark Knight tonight. I can’t wait.

Hope your week has gone well…..

Portland International Beer Festival

Mmmmmmm…..beer.

Scraping the pennie together and going. Why? Because I love beer and beer loves me.

But I just got home from my first Night Ride! There was  movie stop (those are all the super dark photos), the disco stop (the blurry photos) and doughtnuts at the end. We chatted strangers up, my chain fell off, we passed people wearing outrageous costumes, and had a lot of fun.

We are totally doing it next year.

And now I’m going to have my one celebratory beer and go to bed.

But first, and inventory of what hurts:

• my ass/sitbones - I got all “fashionable” and didn’t wear proper bike pants. I’m paying for it now.
• my shoulders - I kept hunching over - bad posture, bad posture!
• my feets - they went numb. they just need to get used to the torture.

Other than that, I’m perfect. And now, I will go to sleep.

Valentine has a mass in his bladder. This is unusual for cats, but common in dogs of his age (which is still not old, damnit). The problem is that we don’t know if it’s cancer or not. The test the Vet ran yesterday came back inconclusive. What’s next? There are several options. D and I are talking about what to do because the procedure to run a camera into Val’s urethra is fucking expensive. There are less expensive options out there. But we are going to take a look at everything first before we make a decision. On Monday we will get more information on what paths we can take and how much they will cost.

In spite of the warning from my mother, I will bankrupt myself to save this cat. D’s more logical when it comes to that kind of stuff, but I will sell most of what I have in order to pay for his surgeries. I know it won’t come down to that….but I would.

As for the job thing….. that’s for a private post.

But I’m through with my 3:

1. Grannie died.
2. Lost my job.
3. Cat with a tumor

I could also add a number of other shittastic things that have happended but it’s not about being negative. I don’t feel like I’m struggling right now. But being manic depressive, that could change in five minutes. It’s fun being able to logically contradict yourself at every turn.

D and I are going to the Night Ride tonight. 2,000 people will be downtown, with bikes, riding through the streets with smiles and stuff. We are going to have a great time.

I hope you are having a good weekend. Be grateful for what you have, because tomorrow it could be gone.

And go eat a doughnut. Life’s too short to live without sweets.

In my sad attempts to try and eat healthier, I went to Subway for lunch the other day. Chill. I wasn’t anywhere near Portland, otherwise I would have stopped in on one of my favorite restaurants. Every Wednesday I drive to Battle Ground for a meeting, during the lunch hour, and they don’t have much up there for vegetarians. Hence, Subway. The Veggie Sandwich thingy isn’t half bad, considering my pallet has grown up a little and now allows for a lot more vegetables.

What it still doesn’t allow for is any part of anything that used to have eyes.

Mmm k. With sandwich in hand, and a bag of Lay’s Baked Mesquite BBQ chips (and a glass of water because their iced tea was awful), I sat down to inhale my glorified cheese sandwich. I like to read when I eat, so for the first time ever, I read the ingredients on the Baked Lays bag. Down at the bottom, in wee little letters: chicken fat.

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Let this be a warning…I’m on my “I can’t fucking stand self-important Christians who tread on hypocritical moral high ground” soapbox… Why? Because it’s pre-coffee time, I forgot my breakfast and I pissed at the world that I had to get out of bed this morning.

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.

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When we moved into this house, we were excited. The pictures didn’t do the kitchen justice. It’s quite large. The granite counter tops, lovely. But once you live in a space, you find the dangerous bits, the areas where you should tread lightly for fear of rabid opossums or low-hanging ceilings just waiting for a cute, bald head to scrape. Our counter tops extend too far over the cabinets beneath them. The same goes for the dishwasher. They aren’t flush with the edge, or even close to being flush, so all kinds of annoying shit happens. Like I open the top drawer all the way and I can’t get the box of plastic bags out without denting it because it’s partially stuck underneath the overly large counters. But last night was the worst. In my preparations for dinner, I yanked open the dishwasher door. There’s a lip, a nice finger-deep space where my ring finger caught - and

THWACK!

Finger, dishwasher door propelled at 60 mph, and the counter all collided. And it hurt. But not in the “ouch” kind of way. Nope, it throbbed with the promise of more nausea-inducing pain because most of the pain nerves in the tip of my finger were whirling around going “what the fuck? Did we just get hit? React? Oh yeah, we are supposed to react!” And so began the rising tide of agony. For the record, my finger still hurts.

And Puck, ever the scavenger, just stood there - tail wagging, tongue lolling, waiting for me to drop the chunk of parmasean in my other hand. Dogs….. if they weren’t so cute, I’d scream.

I did my civic duty yesterday. I voted in the Democratic Primary, and contributed my voice to the loacl elections. Happlily, everyone I voted for won. Our new mayor, Sam Adams, royally spanked the competition, and I can say I am pleased.  But I do have an inkling of fear. When Glenda (clit) Hood left the Mayoral spot in Orlando, I voted for Buddy Dyer. I should have known, with those cheeks and that laugh, that he was as crooked as she was. But I voted my heart and my heart was wrong. I hope I’m not wrong about Sam Adams. The press here is quite diligent in digging up dirt, so I I think I made an educated decision.

And I have to say that Oregon has the voting system down pat. No polling places, no lines, no bullshit. Register to vote, they send your ballot in the mail. You can do all your research at home, and then mail the fucker back in. D, of course, sent his off early. I waited until the last minute. Why? Cause that’s how I roll….so I dropped my ballot off at the local libarary. With ballot in hand, I walked in, fearful when I saw the line. But everyone else was in line to pay the fines or check out books. The blue box, with like 15 locks, sat there waiting for me. I dropped it off and went on my merry way. That, my friends, is how voting should happen. My Mom told me that Colorado does the same thing. Good good stuff.

While I could have spend my evening watching the talking heads yammer on about how the voting ran, I took 3 Benadryl, had two beers and passed out on the couch. I got NOTHING done last night. But I slept, and sleeping is good.

Today, I’m heading up to the NW side of town for a little coffee talk with C. And then I will head to Moosey with D for our ritual Wednesday night veggie dinner. The rest of my week goes as follows:

• Thursday - Work, Indy, go home, try to sleep
• Friday - Work, have lunch with the bossy and the rest of the group (his wife had her baby on Sunday), go home, clean the casa, head to Mississippi Station for a portabello sandwich that could make your toes curl (and we will bike there, so I can’t drink too much), and then head home. No Battlestar this week….sigh.
• Saturday - Drop puppies off to be cleaned, pack up the doggies and head to Lex’s house. D’s bringing his bike, and mine, so we can get a little ride in for fun, party.
• Sunday - big BBQ with Lex’s neighbors. Party.
• Monday - head home 1st thing in the morning, trying to beat the traffic back to Portland. Upload all the pictures from the little trip. Sleep

And that about does it folks. I should get back to work.

I haven’t taken a shower yet. I’m still covered in sweat, but my heart is full of joy. Why? D and I rode down to the waterfront and saw Obama’s speech. Okay, honestly, we heard it. There were an estimated 75k people down there, and I wasn’t about to beat people up for a good seat. We found a perch, in the shade, and listened with about a bajillion other people. He’s an amazing speaker.

D and I got some breakfast, and decided that we had to go down to the rally. I honestly don’t know how many people are going to vote for Obama on Tuesday, but if this gathering was any indication, he’s going to do well. After breakfast, D and I shimmied throughout some of the amazing neighborhoods I love to ogle, and when we got to the bridge, we were stopped by a wall of people. All of the white on the bottom of the bridge - those are all people (and bikes and puppies too) walking to the ralley. D and I had to get off the bikes and walk with the crowd. We honestly could have been total dicks about it, but I’m kind of into being polite since I’m not a fast rider yet. Let’s see how much of an ass I become when I get a little speed going.

Anyway, it took us a while to traverse the short distance from where this picture was taken, to the rally itself. Security was tight, and avenues that are usually open to traffic were shut down. I needed to eat. I was hot and sweaty and getting pissed that the normal route to get near Waterfront Park had been shut down. But we progressed.

D and I were going to just park the bikes and get into the line for the main entrance. But after locking the bikes up, and walking a few blocks, we noticed that the line wound all over the place. After a quick discussion of options. one included FINDING the back of the line and just following everyone else in, we decided to use D’s knowledge of the city to our advantage.

We unhooked the bikes, played in a little belligerent traffic, and found a spot on the back end of the park, near some shops. They opened up another enterance to the rally close to where we were sitting, but we decided that sitting in the shade was far more important than actually seeing the tiny spec that would have been Obama on the stage. Besides, the audio traveled perfectly to us. We waited it out, marveled at all the funny shirts, and interesting bike stickers.

The speech gave me chills. He knew his audience, and he spoke to us. Portland is very progressive when it comes to transportation and he held that up as a thing that other cities should strive for. He mentioned how important teachers REALLY are - TWICE. He talked about everything he should have, and more. But he also recognized the sheer size of us - his Portland Obama supporters and thanked us. And I realize that I’m kind of dragging this out a bit, but I have a sunburn. So, my nonsensical rambling will be blamed on heat stroke…or something.

Here are some images from the rally. There are more on my flickr thingy.

I have more to write about, I really do. It was a great weekend, except for the heat. We discovered a new place for food and good conversation, I had too much wine, laughed so hard my face hurt, and discovered new things about who I am and why I do things the way I do. But most of all, I got my fat ass BACK on my bike, and it felt fantastic.

And now I’m going to pass out and sleep for 100 days.

I don’t know if I was actually avoiding finishing my pages for the month, but instead of focusing on POV or cleaning the house, D and I rearranged our home. Once the thought entered my mind, I couldn’t focus on anythign else. We had to move the rooms around.

Must.

Move.

Furniture.

The dining table is now where my office once was. Why? Apparently someone forgot to tell Portland that it was Spring. The heat doesn’t go to the back of the house, due to a disconnected heating vent. Yes, the landlady knows about it. No, I don’t think she’s going to do shit about it. Meanwhile, when I write, my toes freeze off. It’s especially hard to be brilliant when you are distracted by the possibility of frostbite. D offered to help me move my office several times, but I resisted. We finally had a proper dining-room space. The lamp hangs low over the area, perfectly framing the tall table and my HUGE bottle of Cholula. But we don’t use the damn table. It ends up being a kitty perch, or the receptacle for bags, jackets and scarves. Meanwhile, my desk gathered dust, the gold chair was only occupied when Pip was looking for the neighbor’s cat, and that space was pretty desolate. So, we moved everything. My desks line the windows in the dining room. The gold chair sits behind the couch, and we bought a new rug to fill out the new space. The dogs love it. They’ve played tag, Val uses the new rug as a launch pad, and everyone feels welome. The dining table is in the corner, where the gold chair was. Two chairs are downstairs now (I keep forgetting we have a basement, so we don’t have to keep shit upstairs if we aren’t using it), and I put all the plants on the table. Valentine immediatly took residence up on the table. Normally that’s a no-no, but what ever…. I sat more at my desk yesterday than I have for months. The space is clean. It’s groovy. Now I have to get my deadline stuff done. But I can’t use my piggies getting cold as an excuse anymore.

D and I headed to see a Lacrosse (I was totally wrong in my post on Friday) game with Miss Amandapants and her friend Jes. We watched the Lumberjacks get pretty spanked by the team from San Jose. It’s a fun sport to watch. I screamed. I yelled. I even contemplated buying season tickets. For some reason, grown men running around thwacking each other with big sticks is very entertaining. The arena was pretty full, but we snuck down to lower seats after halftime. Amanda and Jes explained the rules a bit, but most of the time we were just yelling. It’s easy to get caught up in the energy of that kind of situation.

After the game we headed downtown to a little restraunt off Ash and First called Velour. Dark, romantically moody, and filled with brick, the place oozes romance. We found a booth at the back, (it’s kind of skinny building, but deep), and waited. One of the owners gave us the crustinis for free. Some bitchy customers ordered them, but when they didn’t come out as they wanted, they broght the delectable little bits of bread, caramelized onions, and vinagreette, to our table. Starving, we gobbled them up. Since I moved here, my tastes in beer have changed dramatically. While I still love me some Tuker with OJ (fuck off…it tastes good), I’ve taken a liking to Reds. They had an exceptional Red, but I missed the name of it. Amanda and Jess had the exact same things: mac and cheese with gorgonzola, spinach and chicken. I had the veggie black bean burger,  D ordered their vegetarian jumbalaya. My burger was fucking amazing. Spicy, perfectly cooked, I discern the flavor of the beans versus the other veggies, and just wanted to swim in those fries. I don’t know what they coat them with (crack, maybe?) but they were alternatly crunchy and light. It’s a killer little place, and I think D and I will head back there next Saturday after our trip to see Cirque !!!

I’m pretty proud of myself. I went to bed last night around 10, knowing full well that I had to wake up early. Before D left, he woke me up. And about a half hour later (the beagles like their morning cuddles….I had to oblige), I got up, and worked out. Starting the day off that way has made this Monday one of the best I’ve had in ages. I’m alert, almost cheerful, and ready to rock it out. Thank god I have that elliptical. It’s saving my life. And for the rest of the week, things around here will be pretty quiet. For your viewing pleasure - my week schedule:

• Monday - drive to New Seasons, pick up quick cooking dinner (something for the oven, with no slicing or dicing), work on novel, 1/2 hour on the elliptical, work on novel, bed by 10:30.
• Tuesday - wake, 1/2 hour on elliptical, drive to work….and you know…work, home, novel, dinner, novel, sleep.
• Wedneday - wake, work, coffee, eating, working out….EDITING, dinner, editing, sleep.
• Thursday - go gray, tear out hair, throw laptop acrross the room, then wake up from nightmare where I don’t finish my work for the month, wake, work out, go to work, head home, eat, work until midnight, because I will push myself like that.
• Friday - Work….and Lex is coming for a visit. Party. Laugh. Sleep.
• Saturday - Hang out with Lex, Cirque, Velour, ride the Max home. Sleep.
• Sunday - Ride a bike.

And that about sums things up. I tried to take pictures of the game, with little success, but I will post them anyway. And new pictures of the house. Oh, and my hair’s gotten really long. You may get an image of that as well.

Have a happy Monday….and if it’s not happy….find the band and listen to some of their music. Good stuff.

PS: I will edit this later. I hate IE…no native spellchecker. #&#%(*^&$(%@($#*!!!!

It’s obvious to look at me, that I loves me some food. Salsa has to be my favorite condiment. I think everything tastes better with sour cream. Carrots are only as good as the dressing they are in, and there’s nothing better on a cold day than tomato soup and a good grilled cheese sandwich (on Sprouted wheat with a mix of colby and chedder…with hot sauce, of course).  My favorite place for soup, and grilled cheese is the Blue Moose off Fremont in the NE. Feeling blue on Monday, D took me there in the hopes that their homemade bowls of bliss could cheer me up. It was…..

*gasp*

CLOSED!

WTF?

We didn’t stop to find out. Instead I pouted, had a minor hissy fit because I was hungry and depressed, and D convinced me to go to the Italian place I’ve been curious about. Deed done. Dinner was good. I think small children should be shot. End of story. Until yesterday, similarly blue, I wanted to go back to Moosey.

Again…..freaking closed.

“They better not be on vacation. They can’t go on vacation when I’m depressed and need soup.” Of course I’m selfish, but it was what I felt.

So we pulled up again, but this time D went to the door and found the sign they posted

“Closed Due to Fire - Will Re-open Soon.”

I felt like a jerk. A depressed, soup-loving, selfish brat of a person. I hope that they get things back in order. I hope that their insurance company doesn’t screw them.

I hope they don’t mind that I went to Vita Cafe instead. But I didn’t get soup…..I just couldn’t go that far.

I slept like the dead last night. Using the treadmill will do that for you, if you pull yourself out of your own way to get something done. One thing I haven’t done: laundry. It’s still in a pile, collecting animal hair, and serving as the comfiest bed to both beagle and feline. Wish I had time to fold it. Okay… I do. But I wanted to sleep and watch a movie with D.  Perhaps I’ll get to it today.

So, D had an interview with Xerox (please ignore this if you read it before), and he should hear on Flyday whether or not he got the job. Cross everything you’ve got. Really. Yes, I even meant your eyes. Okay, well you can cross your eyes later. You need it to read this. Read on, cross your eyes later. But at least cross your fingers.

I read this on MSNBC regarding Heath Ledger’s funeral:

Fox News’ John Gibson on Jan. 22 opened his radio show with funeral music and mocked a signature line from “Brokeback,” saying, “Well, he found out how to quit you.”

Can I say…that’s just disgusting. And I’m tired of hearing the word “fag.” I hear it @ work. I hear it on the Xbox. Tired of it. Homophobia pisses me off. Let’s be honest guys (because guys seem to have more of a problem with the whole “gay” thing)… he’s probably not that into you.  Besides, Heath Ledger was a great actor, regardless of the roles he played. I’m sure some of your favorite actors(resses) have played tyrannical bastards, but no one blinks an eye when that happens. Mention boy on boy booty, and then the world freaks out. It’s enough to make me tear my hair out.

On a happier note, I smell like Burt’s Bees. It’s good stuff.

The weather here has been amazing. It’s damn cold, don’t get me wrong, which is why my blankets on the couch are so groovy. I run from the car, into the house, fend off the dogs and cats, drop my bags, and bounce under the blankets. It’s just for a few moments, because when I get home, the beagles want their food. The cold itself isn’t the problem right now, it’s the wind. It finds your marrow and freezes it solid. For hours, I struggle to get warm. I’m even wearing socks on a regular basis. But the views when I drive to work are just magnificent. St. Helens and Mt. Hood glow, the city’s taller towers peek from tall trees. Reflective windows shine warm light all over the city. Everyone seems to smile, although it’s hard to see their faces when they are half-strangled by scarves. Have I mentioned that I love scarves? I love them. There, now you know my secret.

My hands are cracking and my lip bleeds a lot because of the cold. Hence, why I smell like Burt’s Bees right now. I’d have them bleeding and cold everyday to live here. Luckily, it’s going to start getting warmer in a month or two.

I need more coffee.

Toodles