christmas came and went, and i didn't even go crazy

For a holiday trip in Texas that was so saturated with family (starring parents who normally drive you slightly or severely insane, depending on the day and the level of the two of them bickering and/or interrupting your stories), the last 4.5 days were quite alright. It was probably the first time since high school that I spent so many days back-to-back as a homebody in the 'burbs, just chilling with the folks. And to my surprise, I didn't once lose patience with my mom for not hearing what in the world I was saying for the seventh time, or with my dad for taking 11 minutes to gather his things and leave a parked car to head inside wherever it was we were going. It's nice to step outside your regular 'impatient child' role in the family and as an outsider looking in, laugh at the hilarity that is your adorably aging parents, however slow/deaf/absent-minded they may be. Of course, a trip that begins and ends with top-notch Texican food can't be all bad.

Despite the relaxing family-bonding weekend, it is very nice to come home to a city you love and a purring kitty who loves you and a clean abode, and to sleep on a mattress that's not nestled on the floor between a Christmas tree and a Foosball table. Being an adult is great, and maybe more so when those awesome adulthood perks are so closely juxtaposed to memories of a control-free childhood existence, however pleasant they were.

mexican food-bound

In a little more than 12 hours, I'll be rolling into the tee-ex for the holidays. I just hope my parents have figured out that my request for breakfast tacos after my red-eye flight automatically includes "with a side of Lone Star."

Actually, scratch that... I just got off the phone with my dad. Not only is he greeting me at the airport with said tacos in hand, but asked if 11am would be too early for a drink.

Thank you, Paul Webb. You may be the only man in the world who will ever truly understand me.

recipe for a successful birthday

- sunrise over the cascades on the morning commute

- a sunny day in the Pacific Northwest!

- birthday lunch at work, complete with gift exchange and a decadent cake

- a multitude of well wishes from loved ones near and far

- friends gathered together + mulled wine + another aMAZing homemade cake

- dancing and photo-boothing at my new favorite place

Mix together. Simmer for a while. Sleep it off.

...or, the short version:

cake + dancing = birthday win

and then things got very complicated

I can't decide whether it's funny or tragic, that every time I feel like I'm growing as a person, becoming more of an adult, and more certain about what I want out of life, the indecisive, fickle version of my subconscious comes exploding through the door, reminding me why I'm not certain about anything, nothing at all.

It starts with an unexpected new option, a loophole from the path you thought you were becoming sure about that pops up, at first just uninvasively dancing in your peripheral vision. No pressure. Just showing itself as a possibility.

But that harmless little introduction can cause a shift in you somewhere, a seed that gets planted and with a little tweak and a little time can establish a pretty solid root system in your brain that seems impossible to shake. Your perception is thus transformed, old questions return to their place in your impossibly overanalytical head, and you realize you don't know anything anymore. Even when you thought you were figuring your life out? Oh yes, especially then.

I need to clear my head, take a break from life, and stop thinking so much. And move to a land where existential crises are easily solved. With cookies and punch. And maybe even balloon animals.

love letter

Dear December,

Oh, how I love thee. Let me count the ways. You are the month that represents such joy and merriment, and you will always be my favorite. I know x-mas tunes and holiday lights annoy the crap outta some people, but I heart them. And I heart you. I'm really, totally stoked to see you once again... in less than two hours! We will eat ginger-flavored things, and drink mulled beverages, and frolick together through snow. And sing aloud to Christmas songs, irritated onlookers be damned!

I'm counting down the minutes, and embrace your return wholeheartedly.

Now let's do this.

Love,
Lauri

snow in the wind on a sunny day

It was this week a year ago that I first moved up to the land of French Canada and began my three-month, much-too-short love affair with Quebec. It's been an incredibly full, and insanely quick, last twelve months. I'm remembering my time there very fondly.

yeah, well, moby says raw food is great for you

What I've put into my body in the last 3 hours:

- a sensible, vegetable-heavy dinner
- a glass of wine
- seven dark-chocolate-covered espresso beans
- three freshly baked anzac cookies
- a glass of rice milk
- approximately 1/2 cup of anzac cookie dough
- an estimated quarter pound of scone batter

... and I didn't even mention the handful of peanut M&M's I stole from the receptionist after lunch today. I am just FULL of love. Brimming over the top (of my pants) with it. So much so that I a) cannot move, b) am 5 minutes away from passing out in a sugar coma, and c) must absolutely run tomorrow. And d) am totally surprised that I'm still writing coherent sentences (though I had to attempt to spell "sentences" three times just now).

food = love, right?

These days, all I really wanna do is bake and be baked for. And so, this last week has been chock full of delicious breakfast and hearty suppers ...and pain au chocolat that I haven't tasted so superb since my time up in baby France, from my new favorite place that also sells my new favorite pastry: cardamom pretzels. Holy chouette, outstanding.

And in between munching on homemade and bakery-bought deliciousness, I've been unpacking all the crap I brought up from TX, brushing up on my French, planning my LAST EVER 20-something birthday party (even though I have a whole month to do it), and watching my cat do amusingly endearing stuff like clean her face and lay belly-up, staring at the mirror and lovingly admiring her own reflection. So even if love in the form of baby France ain't here no mo', life is entertaining enough, with just enough love to get me through the fall.

how to have a deliciously cozy, lazy, lounge-y weekend

Step 1.

Make some comfort food. For instance: chili, cornbread, and spice-ilicious pumpkin muffins.

Step 2.

Watch as many old episodes of True Blood as your tired little heart desires. (Optional: Fawn over Stephen Moyer in that ridiculously sexy Bill Compton get-up.)

Step 3.

Brunch with some fabulously entertaining friends.

Step 4.

Get out and enjoy some sunshine.

Step 5. (and perhaps the most important)
Ignore, for the time being, any household obligations that may be trying to threaten your loafing.

(In my case, boxes spewed all over the apartment that rudely refuse to unpack themselves.)

Now you are ready to face your week. Have a good Monday.

what to do in the event of a tumbleweed attack

October was a pretty great month, replete with some pretty amazing dining experiences, some awesome live music shows, doing some of the fun tourist-y things there are to do here, and getting to know my city better. And all that's before an incredibly fun, albeit short trip home to TX to visit family, friends, pick up my beloved cat, and have a much-too-short affair with top quality Tex-Mex.

On the ride back up to the Pacific Northwest, there was an interesting storm in Utah, wherein tumbleweeds were scattered all over the place, scooting down the highway, rolling alongside the road, hurling themselves over bridges with the force of some mighty gusts that were a-blowin'. It was quite a sight to see, like being caught in a wild west movie, from the perspective of a 16-foot Penske truck. Some were quite large in size, and not a minute after wondering aloud what one would do if their car impacted one of these giant tumbling balls, I had the privilege of finding out exactly that.

So, in answer to the question at hand, you: a) pull over, managing to not swerve off the road due to the gusty winds, rain, and sheer surprise at the enormous floating weed suddenly all tangled up in your grill, b) step out of the vehicle, c) remove the tumbleweed, and d) watch it blow off into the wind. Follow these simple steps, and you will live to tell about it.

murphy can stick it

I feel as though I have been demolished by a semi. Demolished, I tell you! What a graphic word! Close your eyes, and think of the connotation of that word. What do you see? A destroyed Volkswagon, crumpled beyond recognition? A collapsed building, smashed into a million pieces? Now take out the car/building rubble, and insert my lifeless body. This is an accurate portrait of my current physical state. In a metaphorical sense. I am not, in actuality, crumpled or smashed. But I may as well be.

It was a 12-hour day in the clinic that included (but was not limited to):
- patients waiting for an hour to be seen, as I was the only doctor in the clinic (x-rays! exams! adjustments! all me! heeellllllp!)
- the computers crashing at the WORST POSSIBLE MOMENT
- running around the clinic/sweating profusely for a good 3-hour chunk of the day
- a bunch of other insane clinical shit I won't bore you with
- eating almond butter and dark chocolate for dinner due to a level of exhaustion that rendered me unable to make a proper meal
- wanting to fall over
- shamelessly whining all over the internets

I suppose I can't say everything went wrong, since the universe did not implode, my head did not explode (it only came close), and I survived long enough to bitch about it, but.....

hot DAMN!! What an effing day.

full weekend

Friend visits from outta town. Talk some shop. Explore a new neighborhood. Buy some used French books. Make candied-espresso walnuts. Attend a BBQ. Meet some new friends (easily done while armed with said nuts*). Walk in the 60-degree sunshine. Try a new brunch place. Study some French with the company of a scone.

It was the last weekend of the summer, and I am satisfied.

* I could re-write the book, How to Win Friends and Influence People. Chapter 1: Make candied-espresso walnuts. Bring them to a party. Done. Everyone loves you. The End.

1 year, 4 cities

It's my 3-month anniversary of living in Washington. In the last year, I have spent:
autumn in Davenport, Iowa
winter in Quebec City, Canada
spring in Atlanta, Georgia, and
summer in Seattle.
I guess my tail feathers were on fire.

I'm very curious to see what fall in the northwest will bring. As long as it's not SAD, I'm thinking it will be survivable. And maybe even fantastic.

questions

1. why's coffee make me all happy and shit? i mean, an 11-hour work day, and i could care less, all because of that little 8 ounces of creamy caffeinated heaven, my first in 5 days. LOVE IT.

2. how come girl talk (the music, not the gay feminine chattiness) makes me wanna dance, like even without any booze in mah veins? so thrilled for monday: showbox at the market. girl talk live. deliciousssssssss.

3. wine. what's up with the druggy beauty of a simple glass? just your average day, then BOOM. i feel all open and great and free, without the pressing urge to edit every. single. fucking. detail of life. and a little like i should always be on a 1-glass vino buzz, 24/7, for the sake of society all around me. COME ON, WHY NOT?

4. grilled cheese sandwiches, pathway to the heavens? i think so. makes you feel like a 7-year-old again, even when eaten past your regularly scheduled dinnertime, in your clinic clothes. fuck yeah. where's my cartoons?

tuesday AM

Nothing like a homemade breakfast taco, an hour-long massage, brand-new $12 shoes, and the promise of an evening Skype date to set the tone for the day.

caned but able

(Disclaimer: Though I probably totally deserved the following events, and they probably make me a horrible person, it doesn't make them any less hilarious.)

Saturday afternoon, I was walking downtown with my friend Lisa, trying to get to the intersection before the crowd of people coming from my right blocked us off from it. I noticed an old (blind? homeless?) woman coming, and thinking she'd be slow, rushed a bit to cross her path and clear the crowd. She was apparently faster than I gave her credit for, and not even looking up once, she came barreling into me, then - to my horror - began to lose her balance. I felt terrible for cutting her off, and was horrified that she was about to fall due to my impatient scampering. So I grabbed her forearm to help her out, while repeating, "I'm so sorry!"

She didn't fall. (Whew.) But she DID scream, "Leave me alone!" while jerking her arm away, then she grabbed her cane with both hands (as one would a baseball bat) and proceeded to beat my leg with it. Not really knowing what was happening, I realized her hat had flown off in the process, and she was hobbling away without it, still berating me: "Goddamn you!" I said, "Um, excuse me, I have your hat!" and I went over to put it back on her head. She paused and brought her head down to receive it. Then she wandered off into the Seattle streets, with her eyes still aimed toward the ground and her hair in her face, still not looking where she was going (because she was blind?? or had some other problems? I will never know!). I wasn't sure if I should feel bad for being in her way, or indignant for sustaining an assault (however feeble). But instead, I started choking back laughter, when Lisa and I realized what had just happened:

I got caned by an old woman.

the state of things

I finally moved to a city where the plan - for lack of a better word - is to stay for a while, at least longer than a few months. Yet I still feel so temporary about everything. It’s a perspective I’ve evolved over the course of nearly 10 years of being on the move, of living in impermanent places that are only for school, or only for an internship, and then, and then, and then... there will be some place else! It's like a cloak I throw on each time a new opportunity presents itself, to remind myself: ‘don’t get comfortable… this is only for a spell.’ I wonder now when the time will come when I feel stable enough to toss off the cloak. Will it happen after a certain time period here? Once I know the ins and outs of the city? When my salary increases and I start paying off the debt, saving money, becoming responsible?

I know it’s only been two months. I look back at Quebec, and at the 2-month mark, I was already dreading my departure, but was so happy with where I was. At that same point in Atlanta, I was indifferent to staying or going… I was happy for the time being, but knew from the beginning there that it was just a stepping stone. I knew the next thing would be coming soon, so any sadness I had about leaving a place I was just getting to know was overshadowed with the excitement of starting again, this time with a REAL job.

And here, it’s so weird to try and think about the long term, since there hasn’t been one before. But in reality, this could be my long term. I mean, why not? It’s beautiful here… the landscape, the weather, the city. I have a great job, a secure one, with lots of potential, a great boss, a career that is taking off. I’m making friends who I really like. I have a home that I love returning to after a day’s work or a weekend trip.

And yet…

I still just don’t know. It all seems so up in the air. I don’t know if I’m not letting myself feel settled, or my intuition is telling me for some other reason not to get too comfortable. Or maybe, of course, it’s possible that I’ve just really started here, and inevitably it takes time to build… well, a life. Which is, I guess…what I’m supposed to be doing? Although I question what all exactly that entails.

In the meantime, I'll see how it all plays out. My Seattle existence. The northwest winter. Being far from any other place I've called home. Being a doctor for the first time. And, like with everything else, I'll trust the seat of my pants, and do like Dad says: one thing at a time.

shades of gray

I've said before that I could never live in a place that never has clouds. Blue, sunny skies are boring, not to mention very mean to my pasty epidermis.

Not that there has been a shortage of sun here this summer. There's actually been a perfect amount. And I haven't yet made it through the fall and winter months, when the sun allegedly hides itself and doesn't come out to play till late spring, but I'm digging the clouds so far. They are splendid in their unpredictability.

Seattle has brought to my attention just how many shades of gray there can be, as far as clouds go. Gray can be, in fact, absolutely beautiful, and it's not a boring color at all. There can be a seamless, solid blanket of your typical gray cloud-cover, or pretty, bubbly gray patches with various textures. There are multiple hues of gray-violet, as well as countless gray-blues, and even warmer shades of pinkish gray or with tinges of orange, depending on the time of day. There are infinite various patterns of holey clouds, where sun rays can peek through, giving that majestic look to the heavens, if you like that kind of thing (I, in fact, do). And there's your everyday wispy or puffy cottony whitish clouds, when the sky feels like being a conformist.

In conclusion, clouds are the bomb and people who say this town is too gray can suck it. That's like saying that Quebec is too snowy in winter, having never experienced the joy that comes with playing in the fluffy deliciousness of it. Or like saying there are too many nuts in banana bread. Which is clearly impossible.

pop quiz

Q: What do you do when there's leftover salsa in the bowl after you've finished your cheese-loaded, delicious, incredibly filling homemade quesadillas?

A: Make more quesadillas to finish the salsa. Duh.

making a house a home

Once upon a time, there was a girl who couldn't make up her mind where to live. Her roots were in Texas, and there had been stints in New York City and Iowa. There were those few months in Quebec, and a few more in Atlanta. She liked them all (mostly). She couldn't choose. (This was a very fickle, indecisive girl.) Finally, she decided to head west.


After 3,299 miles and 4 days of driving, she arrived in Washington, only to find the saddest little hovel waiting for her there. Them's were the suburbs, and they were pretty effing ghetto.

She cursed the cultureless strip-malls and miserable abode cried. Then, a stroke of luck landed her the perfect apartment in Seattle. She just had to wait out the month of July so she could move in. So, she endured more ghetto....

...until finally, the day came when she could, at long last, (after four long, urban-less years,) settle herself into a real city (for longer than three months),

and (after five long months on an air-mattress,) sleep in a real bed,

and bake in a real kitchen, sit on a real couch, hang pictures on real walls (that didn't smell like a mix of mold and kitty pee).

And, the girl was very happy, indeed.

...for now.

(to be continued...)

hallelujah

Over the weekend, I was melted and crushed, only not in that order.

Thursday and Friday were such big days in the clinic that afterward, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. But that didn't come until the next night, when I was navigating home after a promising night out with new friends. Through Seattle I ventured, down diagonal downtown streets, until one unknowingly illegal left turn later (Texas, meet Seattle, but first hold onto your fucking britches), and SMACK. A Ford truck - or maybe it was a Dodge...my head was spinning and pulsating too fast to really notice - at 30 mph, bit into my little Camry, and gave my upper body a good jarring.

Fifteen minutes of shock later, after trading insurance info with the other driver and double-checking that I was not fatally wounded, I found myself in the midst of a post-adrenalin-surge emotional eruption. Upset, in disbelief, frustrated that I could have let this stupid shit happen, and worrying about my already-been-through-eight-car-crashes poor little neck, I was a complete mess. So, to try and ameliorate the first signs of the inevitable whiplash soreness that would soon follow, I rigged myself a cervical collar outta frozen fruit and masking tape:

freaked out, but smelling fruity.

...and after a good laugh at the ridiculousness of sticking blueberries and pineapple to my neck, and the realization that I could get x-rayed and adjusted at work on Monday, that my atlas would eventually be just fine, and that it could have been a LOT worse, I proceeded to calm the hell down.

And then came the hearts in my eyes (and ears)... some relief-granting news and sweet words from a friend served to sooth a healing salve into freshly-traumatized sprains and strains, and patch up the shock-induced mental anguish I'd just endured.

I further self-medicated by reconnecting to Jeff Buckley's Grace, immediately followed by feeling like a total fucking girl: my heart actually tingled and I allowed myself to disintegrate under his poetic words and melodic voice...

and love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
...

it's never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
...

broken down and hungry for your love, with no way to feed it
...

too young to hold on, too old to break free and run

His lyrics and gorgeous tunes, mingled with the sweet smell of thawing pineapple taped to your neck, is enough to make a girl go 'uuhuuhhhhnnnnhnh...'

I wonder if there's a way to prove that angelic voices and unfathomably beautiful guitar riffs have healing powers, scientifically speaking.

thursday night equation

a roller-coaster Wednesday
+
a massive Friday to-do list
+
my first 40-patient day at the clinic (!)
+
second glass of wine?
=
I wish I could sleep for 15 hours.

something tells me...

that this IKEA bed would be assembled a lot more easily if I was drunk.

I'm not saying it was the voice of logic, but I'm off to find some cheap booze. Because I do what I'm told.

discoveries

1. As much as a Texan can justifiably mock Pacific Northwesterners for saying 80 degrees is "sooo warm, omg!" Seattle can be really hot. Like, nearly Texas hot, only sans AC. (No fair.)

2. I have the ability to move from one apartment to another all by myself. Heavy, craigslist-bought IKEA bed and all! (God bless freight elevators.)

3. Mixing double espresso drinks and wine does not bode well when attempting to assemble a very confusing craigslist-bought IKEA bed. With all the foreign hardware. And the heaviness. And, caffeinated drunkenness. No good. (But soo goood.)

4. Fuck bed assembly, I wanna jump around this new place. South Lake Union! No funky smell! Outta the ‘burbs! Weeeeee!

5. Decidedly, this apartment will one day be the ideal setting for a dance party, after single-handedly testing its viability as such. In my underwear. Under the influence of Vivace espresso and cheap red wine. Who wants to party?

primitive therapy

I just went camping for the first time in two years, and a trip like that was about two years overdue. It was with an old friend, and all totally low-key and not overplanned. Because all you really need when camping is a little pop-tent, some matches, and a screw-top bottle of wine.

After going on a 2-hour hike through a beautiful gorge and seeing some spectacular views of mountains and rushing rivers, we gathered firewood, set up camp, made a rather kick-ass, blazing fire, and ate our pre-purchased Subway sandwich while we shared stories, had girl talk, and laughed about religious nuts. It wasn't a completely convenience-less, roughin-it situation, but time spent away from computers and running water was nice. And breaking branches for the fire was therapeutic, minor scrapes and scratches and all. Made me feel tough. I got the bloody scabs to prove it. Arrrgh.

I could have stayed another night or two. Let's face it, it wasn't exactly nice to come home to my crappy little abode. But I am thrilled to say that I only have two more nights in this place: I am getting ready to bid farewell to this ghetto 'burban hovel. But at least there's a working shower. It'll be good to wash away a day and a half's worth of dirt, campfire soot, and tree sap caked onto my filthy body.

Let's hear it for nature.

where the wind's brought me

I truly feel like I am living one day at a time. Sure, I get worried about money, and how hard the next several weeks will be. And of course, I’m looking forward to moving in just one week, and can’t wait to get out of this place. And it’s nothing if not keeping me on my toes, with the lack of funds (the first time in my life I cannot afford to buy gum) and crazy weekend adventures.

But this is good. I’m not dwelling on anything in the past. I honestly have no idea what the next month will bring, much less the rest of the year. New friends, or another period of healthy solitude? Singledom, or live-in boyfriend? Meager salary, or seeing several patients per day and raising that monthly check higher? I am experiencing everything as it comes, adapting quickly (I think), and enjoying most of it. I feel like I will look back on this summer like I have on so many other mini-eras in my life: with appreciation, and with a little awe at how I got through it.

Transitions are hard. The settling-in process takes time. I am still learning things at work, but getting more comfortable, with the people and the procedures. I’m getting good feedback. I’m having fun. I’m spending a lot of time alone, but I don’t necessarily feel lonely.

Things are still changing, still bearable, albeit a bit roller-coaster in their presentation.

Like I said, this whole thing is keeping me on my toes.

Maybe my love for Washington will continue to grow. Maybe I’ll start missing Texas/Quebec/some other place like crazy and want to move in a few months.

But for now, things are good.

this weekend, i...

(in no particular order)

- picked fresh raspberries and cherries on Saturday, blueberries on Sunday

- played barefoot softball

- ripped a 6-inch tear in the crotch of my jeans

- retired a pair of shoes

- went on a hayride

- ran around the side of a mountain, barefoot, in chilly drizzles on a July afternoon

- had some whiskey and a burger in a portland establishment with a great view

- got a bunch of free stuff, including:
- a collander
- a toaster
- an end-table
- a half-dozen organic eggs, fresh outta the chicken
- 5 pounds of Alaskan salmon, caught last week

Plus, I got myself a couch and a bed. I lifted heavy things a lot. My quadriceps and calves feel like achy, burning fire. (But that may have been from the slide into first.)
It was a good two days.

today

9:00 Breakfast, shower, lounge in bathrobe.

10:00 Call 8,000 different numbers to inquire about 8,000 different student loans that I am either a) supposed to have started paying four months ago or b) supposed to start paying two months from now, when c) I don't even have enough money to buy food (where I'm distinguishing "buy" from "charge").

10:25 Still sorting out how I got transferred from one banking/loan entity, who knew what I was talking about, to another, who I apparently have no account with.

10:45 Still on hold with those bastards who want my money at the Texas Higher Education Coordinating Board.

11:25 Finally conclude that I am to complete economic hardship forms, since there is no way in hell I can afford to pay a total of four (FOUR!) loan entities a total of $1900 per month. (Hah!)

11:35 Succeed in warding off a massive debt-related panic attack.

12:15 BNI meeting. Don't ask.

2:00 Household chores. More phone calls. More feelings of overwhelm and loss of control about life. Wasting 3.5 hours waiting for the mail carrier to deliver an urgent package. Thanks, USPS, for the quality time I got to justify spending with Chuck Klosterman.

6:30 Trip into Seattle to fill up on lattes, do some paperwork, and continue to feel overwhelmed and helpless... but at least while in an urban setting.

9:15 Make one list entitled "Problems That Will Be Solved!" and another entitled "Things to Look Forward To." Take a deep breath.

10:30 Get home. Proceed listening to a continuous loop of a "song" by a "friend" that I am mentally and emotionally addicted to.

11:30 Feeling a little better. Trying to feel sleepy, post-latte. Recalling those "things to look forward to," to ensure that I have pleasant dreams, instead of ones featuring death of family members or overflowing toilets I've fallen into as of late.

11:35 As a result of my back telling me to go fuck myself because it's sick of the current sleeping situation, end my night by re-reading item #7 on aforementioned list: "acquire a real bed"... Good note to fall asleep on, even it's on a plastic-coated surface of air.

i almost forgot how awesome it is

... to live in a city, within walking distance to anything you could want or need. I signed the lease on my new apartment, which I can move into in 26 days. Countdown has commenced. I spent yesterday spelunking my soon-to-be new neighborhood, and timing the walks to the cafe (5 minutes), the Whole Foods (15 minutes), and Pike Place Market (21 minutes). I discovered a little pizza place right on my corner that sells fresh, made-to-order pies with organic, local ingredients, and stocks only local beers and wines. I walked all around downtown, enjoying the breezy, 80-degree summer afternoon. I met an old friend for happy hour (who I discovered lives so close I could probably wave to him from my patio). I was a very content little camper by the end of the day, for sure.

And then, I returned to my temporary hovel, with the rusty, rickety staircase leading down to my half-basement apartment, the light brown carpet with the questionable odor, the broken, undraining sink full of water I told maintenance about two days ago.

Siiiigh.

I'm normally not one to try and rush things along, but I really, really, REALLY hope July goes by quickly.

And since it's now all official and legal, I'm gonna change my Current City to Seattle, damnit. Because I am almost outta the 'burbs and into the Emerald City. So close, I can taste it. (And it tastes like Cafe Nico and fresh-caught salmon. Not mixed together.)

well that was depressing

As much of a bum-out as yesterday was, today served as a brilliant shining light, as it allowed me to see the end of the tunnel, and conclude that maybe it ain't so bad.

I don't want to jinx anything, since it's all still in the works, but suffice it to say that I feel really good about the job and near future, and have a hunch that my apartment situation will be gloriously turning itself around very soon. (Which is good, because if I stayed here for very long, I might just have to die, whether from chronic disappointment with my environment, or from a strung-out delinquent busting in through my one measly lock and killing me so he could pawn my laptop and kitchen supplies for suburban street drugs.) It also helps that I was able to get a dose of a Cafe Nico from Vivace - something I've been craving since I was last in Seattle, almost a year ago - and a mini-trip to Whole Foods.

Now, my only problem is my goddamn procrastinating slackerdom. I have to wake up in 8 hours, and I'm only a third of the way through my open-book jurisprudence exam, which I MUST postmark tomorrow, a very busy 10-hour day in the clinic. Before you roll your eyes at the 8-hours comment, let me say that it's been incredibly exhausting, these last four roller-coaster days of newness and excitement and dispair and enthusiasm and uncertainty, and this lady is tuckered the hell out and in dire need of a good, solid, coma-like doze. And before you berate me for complaining about an open book exam, well, just... shut up, why don't you? The time alotted to me to take the damn thing (20 days, Washington state law) has been chock full of moving my butt clean across the nation... replete with newness, excitement, dispair, enthusiasm, and uncertainty.

And so, I sit here on my blow-up bed and sort through pages and pages of legalese, bored as hell, with words running together and drool running down my face. Here's hoping I get her done some time before the 5am sunrise.

i should be taking a state licensure test, but...

I was feeling a bit blue. What with the exhaustion from the three day drive from TX to the Pacific NW, all the city/job/coastal newness, and the shithole of an apartment. (I may elaborate at a later date, when this will all be funny instead of miserable, but suffice it to say I am getting the hell out of this place ASAP and looking for a cheerier habitude to hang my hat. Or, blow up my air mattress, as it were.)

SO!

Although I have a jurisprudence test due in about 1.5 days, I have lifted my spirits with a heavy dose of cheap wine and finslippy. All that was missing was a viewing of Amelie, but given the post-red-wine drowsiness, that'll be another night. I think my job here is done. I'm buzzed enough to have forgotten that I am literally penniless and currently reside, however temporarily, in the ghetto corner of a Washington 'burb.

Nice work, El Gato Negro. We will meet again soon. Very soon.

life on the road

In the past two days, I've driven through six states. Some things I have seen/accomplished:

- Driven a record 32 consecutive miles without using my hands. (The rule was no touching the steering wheel with hands. Signaling and adjusting the cruise control were ok.) Turns out you can do all sorts of things while driving when both hands are freed up, including clapping to music, for a more satisfying dancing-while-driving experience.

- Practiced interlacing my toes. (It's harder than it sounds.)

- Covered over 900 miles each day, stopping only three times per day for pee* and gas-up. I am a machine. (*Turns out my bladder doesn't act like a 2-year-old's when I withhold liquids in any form... except, of course, the occasional gas station crappuccino. Those are practically obligatory.)

- Purple mountains, impossibly blue skies, rolling bright green hills, and incredible sun and cloud situations. (They weren't lying about purple mountain majesty, for reals.)

- Continued my language learning with Intermediate French CDs, a new Half Price Books purchase. Je suis fier de moi.

- Spent one night at a Bates motel look-alike. (The choice was between $42.50 and $90 for the Best Western a block away.) It looked eerily like the real thing. No lie, I was a little freaked out during shower time. I even checked the place for possible peep holes. Needless to say, I survived the night.

And now, I rest (at a less questionable overnight establishment), along with my little car. Tomorrow it's two more states, and the culmination of my trip: a peek at my never-before seen new apartment and new city.

West coast, I'll see you soon.

take the baton girl, you'd better run with it

I decided that before a very frantic and stressful and rushed cross-country move toward Seattle, I would pay a visit to the Texas of Canada. And so I spent five days immersed in (mostly) beautiful Quebec summer, folk music that I missed so dearly, and the pseudo-family and good friends I left behind almost four months ago. It was more lovely than I remember it, and completely worth it.

I spent the last couple of days tearing my hair out beause of a broken car (that busted just after I threw down over a G on it, and just 36 hours before it must drive me to a destination over 3,000 miles away) and the possibility of being homeless as of this Saturday. As in, arrive at destination: Washington, and have to sleep in my car. It all turned out in my favor, the car being mended and a home being found, mostly due to excellent friends and all-around luck. It's good in a way, to feel that pre-move frazzle. Reminds you how much you can get done under pressure. Makes you proud. And it feels even better when you discover it's all working out like a peach.

But the fun doesn't end there. The next week of my life will be jam-packed with excitement and craziness. I have just packed my Camry to the brim with everything I own from my three-month stint here in Atlanta. Tomorrow, I spend 12 hours driving to Houston. I'll have two days there to RE-pack my car, including the kitchen stuff I will require, and also will be packing some boxes to make them shipping-ready. Three days driving West, starting Thursday. And just one day to rest before I start my job. As, like, a doctor and stuff.

So, yeah, on the move again. It feels like I've made a career of moving. But so far, it hasn't been a bad thing. You gotta keep life interesting, I suppose. And this is one way to do it.

holy crap

Cashew butter is amazing. I'm in sticky delicious heaven.

i have a story

This story is about how Lauri is retarded and impatient, but not as retarded as the roads in Atlanta. It is also about how her bladder is smaller than a thimble.

I made one wrong turn on the way home from taking my cousin to the airport. Although I realized my mistake within 6 blocks, the entire ordeal took over a half-hour to reverse, though it was about 7pm, which I quickly discovered is NOT - contrary to logic - too late to be stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic! Reasons for the wrong turn include the streets in Atlanta all looking the same, and none of them proceeding in any one direction for longer than 3 blocks. Instead, they loop and meander in convoluted knots, through thickly forested land, intersecting with themselves (it's true!), and twisting into an unnavigable maze. Plus, some street names are SO GOOD that they use just one for an entire neighborhood! For example, a whole region of the city exists with "Peachtree" in the name. ("Dudes... Peachtree sounds so good in front of 'Road,' let's stick it in front of 'Terrace' and 'Circle,' too! Yeah, and we should call this one here 'Peachtree Drive.' Oooh! We haven't used 'Court' yet... but we'd better identify it with a 'West' so people don't get confused...." I seriously believe that that was an actual quote by some stoned city planner decades ago who was at the time obsessed with Steve Miller Band.) Also, sometimes one street will have four different names within a half-mile. No joke. (You only thought you turned on DeKalb Industrial. Silly goose, that was a block ago! You're on Arcadia now. But only for another four seconds... after that bridge, it's Sam's Crossing. Pay attention!) It truly helps that there is a church on every corner, and they all look exactly the same! Such an exciting place to live! Really keeps you on your toes!

Ok, back to the story. I had also just (an hour before) consumed two cups of coffee, and despite making a visit to the loo right before getting into my car, was in a stupid amount of pain, that special kind of discomfort from having to pee so badly the whites of your eyes are beginning to jaundice. (Side Note: I am beginning to think that instead of having a tiny shrunken bladder, my problem is that my kidneys are secretly addicted to cocaine and filter my blood super! alarmingly! brilliantly! fast, so that my bladder has to constantly run to keep up. That seems like the more reasonable explanation.)

After these events occured, I have realized that other than being in a state of acute hunger with a puzzlingly rapid onset, as per usual, when my blood sugar drops below the "give-the-bitch-a-string-cheese-or-risk-having-your-eyes-clawed-out" status, I am also ridiculously and unforgivably impatient when I'm dying for the bathroom. No matter how good my iPod is shuffling those indie hits, or how beautiful the sky is, or how lovely the breeze feels floating through that sunroof, my rage knows no bounds at times like these.

That being said, you can imagine that it might be understandable for one to SCREAM IN THE CAR AT THE TOP OF ONE'S LUNGS when one is trapped in a bucket seat inside twelve square-feet of metal, stuck on the same block for twenty minutes with a full bladder. Because really, what else is there to do?

In sum... I have no sense of direction. Atlanta's roads are fucking impossible. And my kidneys are hooked on crack. The end!

this is how i roll

For the first time since I was 12, last week I went roller-skating. ROLLER-SKATING! And it was a freaking blast. I felt all awkward and unstable at first, but damn, I had fun.

I never knew about the roller skating culture that exists here, but found out quick that it's pretty popular with the young black crowd. It was quite entertaining to watch the participating population: picture gangsta-dressed black men doing twirls to hip-hop music, and hanging onto one another while skating in tandem. With other dudes. Very masculine-looking, early-20-something, dudes. Some people had some crazy awesome moves, and I was very impressed.

What might be even more impressive is that I went fishing over the Memorial Day weekend. (Ok, I won't kid myself. At most, it's as impressive, but probably not even that.) The reason that's a big deal is that I haven't done so since I was about 7 years old. I also caught two whole fish, big enough to eat! Which I did, later that night! All rolled in cornmeal and fried up, along with homemade hushpuppies. The reason THAT'S a big deal is because the catching part of this scenario was a first. I'm pretty sure I've never caught anything with a line connected to a pole. Which is probably why I hated fishing when I was a kid. There was too much sitting around and waiting for something to happen. It was boring. Even as an adult, between the reeling in of something squirmy biting my line, I got pretty bored of the whole experience pretty fast. And also, I had an overpowering sense of guilt for all the harm to living creatures I was involved in. I couldn't help but apologize to the tiny little fish I ended up throwing back. ("I'm sorry about your lip, little guy. And I'm sorry for making you late for something.") I apologized to the earthworm I mercilessly stabbed in three places while threading its long body on my hook. God, I'm a wuss.

So, conclusion: I am just as ADD as I was as a 7-year-old (and way more squeamish), but my fishing skills have somehow improved. Maybe the worms were just super juicy and the fish were desperate and nearly starving to death.

I ALSO rode a 4-wheeler for the first time since childhood. All in all, I've had a pretty exciting, getting-in-touch-with-my-inner-child week. One event that did not contribute to those nostalgic feelings took place on Sunday, when I shot an AK-47 at some inanimate plastic targets. What can I say? When you're in the dirty south, hanging out with native southerners who have an array of firearms, and when you've have had several beers under the Hot-lanta sun, shooting an AK-47 just sort of... follows. Like buying an over-priced popcorn at the movies. Or doing a keg-stand at a college party.

And, now I can cross off "shoot an automatic assault rifle" from my list of things to do before I die.

lunch of champions

This afternoon, I had a bowl of black bean soup, some poor-man's sushi (slices of tofu rolled up in a nori sheet and dipped in soy sauce), and a mini-doughnut from Dancing Goats Cafe, of course along with a tasty cuppa joe.

I dunno if it was the seaweed or the fluffy bite of coffee-cake-like deliciousness in that do-nut, but I'm in a great mood.

wow

Working for Dr. Roy has really turned me into a cheeseball.

time of my life

I could have been depressed about not getting a weekend, but there was nothing unpleasant about it. It was late last week, and I will still working on printing out 70 copies of a 170-page book for the upcoming seminar by the Sweat Institute here in Atlanta, where hordes of AO chiropractors gather for the biannual meeting. It's a reunion, it's an incredible learning experience, it's a party. It's a celebration of all that I love about this profession. I was doing my normal job on Thursday and Friday, in addition to helping plan for this huge event (the whole office staff was working like a machine to get everything done), all the while with 2-10 visiting docs floating around in the halls, following Dr. Roy, peeking in on the x-ray equipment, asking to see the film analysis software. They were fun, even if their presence did make me a bit nervous. To be honest, I wish every day could have been like Friday, when the clinic was a living, breathing entity, with its visitors and bustling crowds, all overflowing with love for chiropractic and the Sweats.

I worked well past my normal 4-hour morning on Saturday. I went to the seminar at lunchtime, ran some errands, then got to sit in on the presentations, got to eat dinner with all these incredible doctors, got to ride back in an overcrowded truck with 5 of them, laughing all the way back to the hotel, where I sat drinking Budweiser and champagne till 2am, got to hear stories from their days in my shoes, when they were "the intern"s, stories about Dr. Roy, discussions about their clinics and what works and doesn't work in practice, got to hear countless stories about patients whose lives were changed, saved, because of chiropractic, because of Atlas Orthogonal, because of Roy Sweat, a man who I am lucky enough to have as my current boss and mentor. I chatted with some docs I knew, met a bunch I didn't know, networked with those who will be nearby on my next adventure. It was such a loving, fantastic crowd to be involved with.

I had to wake again at 8am on a Sunday, to attend the seminar, help with clean-up. But I also got to sit on the clinic porch drinking more Bud (and later, eating some Waffle House, Dr. Sweat-style) and sharing more stories with people who I now realize are my colleagues, the family I became apart of once I graduated last February and decided I'd do this amazing AO work. It's been such an honor, and such a fun ride, that I don't care if I only got 5 hours of sleep for the rest of my life, it's an experience I only wish I could prolong indefinitely. I was so grateful and ecstatic, almost disbelieving, that I was part of the whole thing. What an overwhelming, amazing weekend.

But, the winds of change are fast approaching, and they are beckoning me onto the next course... one where I will inevitably be equally as grateful for and as excited about.

Life really is beautiful.

it never fails...

...leave the house looking like a slob to go grocery shopping at 11pm, and you're guaranteed to end up inadvertently walking onto a movie set.

Well, not quite. But almost.

I was ready for bed, sans make-up, with frizzy post-showered hair, wearing essentially a pajama ensemble that was barely passable as public-appropriate (if a little white trash: tank top and stretchy pants, not the fancy stylish work-out kind), when I decided I couldn't postpone a trip to the store another day (last roll of toilet paper, you know). Knowing there would be no one to impress at the local grocery at this time of night, I gave little thought to my less than put-together appearance.

When I pulled up, I noted a huge Penske truck out front, with all these hoses and generators leading into the store. I thought it curious, but for all I knew, these were regular happenings at the Decatur Kroger on Thursday nights. Or maybe on this particular night, there was some maintenance issue that needed to be fixed? A leaky roof requiring sump-pumps and hoses, or the installation of a floor, or hell, you got me, I just needed some spinach and yogurt and something to wipe my butt with, what did I care? Sure, the truck was blocking the normal entrance, but I didn't think it was necessarily on purpose. And yes, there was a little orange traffic cone in front of the automatic doors, but I was oblivious.

So I stroll in with my grocery cart to have the following crowd staring at me: Tarzan, a few cast-members from the Wizard of Oz, and a man dressed in a bear suit. All in full costume and make-up. That's when I noticed the many bright set-lights all around, the fancy television camera perched just to my left, and then shortly after, that startled, slightly embarrassed realization hit me, that I was standing somewhere I was not supposed to be. And trapped! Those crafty thespians had sufficiently blocked off their corner from the rest of the store, and how! The little off-limits drama-space I'd wandered into was on lock down. With an awkward little, "sorry!", I sheepishly made my way toward the perimeter, where I saw a tiny path I could maybe squeeeeze my way through toward Destination: Produce, and a nice tech girl helped move a big trash can out of the way so I could pass. When I asked her the cause of the hullabaloo, she informed me that they're filming a commercial for the Georgia Lottery. Right in my neighborhood Kroger!

So, boys and girls, just when you think it's safe, for instance, to wander outta the house at 2 am with greasy, disheveled hair, racoon eyes, and wearing only gym shorts and a sports bra - by all means, be yourself, but - keep in mind there might be a camera and a throng of small-time actors waiting for you at your destination.

tragic case, indeed

I dare the religious right to read this story and continue to argue with a straight face that birth control is a bad thing.

And I would almost add, with a snarky little smirk on my face, "I'd love to hear what they have to say." But in reality, I have no desire, nor energy, to listen to the inevitable unfounded, anti-sex, faith-based reason they'd fabricate to argue how all contraception should be avoided no matter the cost. Because the truth is, illogical people are exhausting.

So I'm gonna return to my tea and Dave Eggers and pretend that I live in a world where only educated, common sensical people exist.

how apropos

Last night, I dreamt I was running late to a wedding. For some reason, I'd wandered into the street in my pajamas, and came across the church where everyone was congregating. Then I realized I hadn't showered or gotten ready yet. I couldn't manage to find my way back the house I had slept at (presumably a friend's). The church took up about 12 city blocks, and I couldn't get around it, even as I was running so late. What might all this mean? (Emphases below are mine.)

Late
To dream that you are late, denotes your fear of change and your ambivalence about seizing an opportunity. You may feel unready, unworthy, or unsupported in your current circumstances. Additionally, you may be overwhelmed or conflicted with decisions about your future.

Wedding
To see a wedding in your dream, symbolizes a new beginning or transition in your current life. They reflect your issues about commitment and independence.

I find it interesting that even in my dream state, I am fucking freaking out about upcoming changes. Conflicted and overwhelmed with the transitions in my current life. To think, some people believe dreams are totally random and mean nothing...

lauri's head

week 1.
Yes! Seattle! How fantastic, that this fantastic job in this fantastic place has fallen into my lap! It's all so... fantastic! Weeeeeee!

week 2.
Hmm. I hope everything works out. I mean, sure it will! ...right?! It's the Pac northwest, for crying out loud! And the doctor seemed perfectly lovely on the phone. And, and, and she seems thrilled that I'm coming! Of course it's all fine. I just sent in $600 for state licensure. It'll work out, it always does! So yes, how fantastic! Weee!

week 3.
Oh wow. It's a 3-day drive. And how will I get all my crap out there? Will my cat survive that drive? Where will I live? It's all gonna be so rushed. Atlanta to Houston in one day. Two days to pack and settle affairs in Texas. Houston to Seattle in three days. Hmmm. Well...it should be fun, right? I'm going west! Oregon trail!

week 4.
Shit. What if it doesn't work out? She may not like me. 90-day probation period, you know. I may not like it there! I wonder how long I should plan on staying. Where will I really end up, like for good? Maybe I should wait to move ALL my shit up there. Maybe I shouldn't be naive and assume everything will always be perfect and happy and wonderful, always. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Now I'm worried. Why am I so worried? I wish I didn't worry so damn much. Curse the heavens! Why don't I ever know anything about anything, ever? Why is this so difficult?! Why must I freak out at everything? Oh my god!! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?!?!?

(to be continued....)

beside myself

After a two-week visit with a wonderful friend from a far away land, scoring a job in Seattle and discovering I'll be moving there in as little as six weeks, and contemplating my more figured-out but still somewhat uncertain future existence, I am beat and feel like I could sleep for days. I certainly intended to (continue to) drink all this wine that's somehow found its way into my kitchen, but one day off wasn't enough to recover, even if it did feature a blockbuster comic book movie and comforting discussions about life with a friend.

On the upside, I am not dead or maimed after my very-near-wreck on this morning's commute. It'd been raining all weekend, was pouring earlier, and as I was entering the highway ramp doing about 60, a silver car jetted in front of me at 90 degrees, crossing four (miraculously clear) lanes at I'm guessing around 60 as well - presumably hydroplaning - causing me to skid and nearly lose control of my own car. He ended up halfway off the road, facing almost 180, and I'd stopped on the shoulder, safe but shaken. If I had left my apartment a second earlier, or didn't have to endure being stuck behind that one slow-mo a minute before, or there wasn't a long line at the light, or etc, etc, etc... Mr. Silver Slider would have rammed right into my door and who knows what then. Funny how even insignificant events can make or literally break you or your day.

So thanks, Mr. Silver, for being a peculiar piece of silver lining on such a crap day. I'm glad we didn't die.

two left hips

I went salsa dancing for the first time this week. Even after I warned the friend who suggested it that I can in no way dance, and probably shouldn't even pretend to know how, I went anyway and proved myself correct. But I had a lot of fun trying! I may even go back for seconds. I learned two important lessons:
1) I have hips (who knew?)
2) I have a problem moving them properly (when clothed, anyway, and to the rhythm of salsa music...)
I technically already knew #2, but next time, we'll see if I improve with an extra drink beforehand.

happy estrogen day!

If you're interested in the origins of Easter, follow the link. An amusing excerpt follows:

"To go even further we can see the connection between Easter and Fertility, as we know the name for the female reproductive system came from the Goddess of Fertility. Eastre = Estrous cycle and Estrogen, the female hormone.
In the past groves of Oak trees were planted so that some could be carved to be giant phallic symbols, and celebrated on this occasion. The common greeting was to hold up the middle finger towards another person. We now consider this offensive, but it traces back to a simpler time, when fertility rituals were common and accepted."

So... in celebration, go flick someone off today. When they get upset with you, explain that you're just getting in touch with your roots. And if they don't like it, you can celebrate this day of fertility in a different, more personal way, and hop into bed with them. Surely a less offensive gesture.

the fountain of youth

...incase you wanted in on the secret. According to a (spritely, cheerful, very sweet) elderly patient here, the three keys to staying young are, in order of importance:
1. Jesus
2. Chiropractic
3. Organic food and beauty products.

I'll give it to her, she's 78 and has great skin. I need to ask Jesus which moisturizer he recommends...

HOT-lanta?

It is April, and it has been showering like crazy. And all this rain is now bringing a pretty intense cold front my way. Tomorrow, it won't get warmer than the 40s, and temps may actually drop to freezing. Not good news, since I don't have but one long-sleeved shirt with me. I didn't even bring my fall jacket here, thinking I'd be melting in Atlanta heat the minute I stepped into town. I had to buy a blanket today in preparation, since I'm lacking appropriate bedding as well. I may have to roll up to work tomorrow wrapped in said blanket. I wish someone would have told me to expect a freeze in these parts. This weather be crazy confusing.

Things are still pretty slow here... it's been far too long since I've had a late night out or broken a wine glass on my face. In somewhat related news, I’m feeling a bit uncreative, which is why I haven’t been inspired to post much recently (not that there's a whole lot to report). I should make it a point to pick out at least one funny thing about every day, and make more frequent mini-posts. Because there’s always SOMEthing funny going on. Especially when I work for an 81-year-old chiropractor who's been at it for almost 60 years, and whose list of favorite things includes telling awesome jokes. I'll leave you with one he told last night:

An armed bank robber was fleeing the scene when he passed an onlooker. "Did you see me rob this bank?" the thief asked. "Yes," the man replied. BANG! The robber shot the witness on the spot. He went to the next man, standing close by. "Did you see me rob this bank?" the thief asked him. "No," the man replied. Then, pointing to the woman standing beside him, he added, "but my wife did."

slow and sleepy

Today, like yesterday, has been gray and drizzly. I usually love days like this, especially when it's the weekend. It's a good excuse to stay in your underwear and drink tea and read in bed all day long.

But today was my second day of work, and I am exhausted. I'm getting used to the flow of the office (at the chiropractic clinic I work at), and still learning how everything is working. I wanted to nap this afternoon, but decided my time would be better spent re-connecting with the world and going out in it. So I sit in a cozy corner at my new favorite cafe in downtown Decatur, people-watching, enjoying the crowd and the coffee, and looking up Albert Camus quotes. I've collected some of my favorites for you. So kick back with a pot o' tea, put on some Sigur Ros or Iron and Wine, and enjoy your afternoon.

- Freedom is nothing but a chance to be better.
- Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.
- In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.
- Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears.
- Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.
- To be happy we must not be too concerned with others.
- Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object.
- You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.
- Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.
- But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads?

springtime and the livin' is easy

This month has truly been a vacation. There was a time last weekend in Austin, amidst my mid-afternoon porch-sitting and wine-drinking, where I actually thought to myself, 'I'm having so much fun, I'm pretty much jealous of my own life right now.' It was about 2pm, and it's when I knew I was drunk.

I spent another few days in Houston visiting with family, playing the part of personal chiropractor for my parents, and then I played and totally won at car tetris: I packed up my lil '96 Camry to the brim and rolled my way to Hot-lanta. Which, thankfully, is not hot yet. I made it here during the few weeks of spring, before the humidity descends and I begin traveling everywhere in a bathing suit. The first 8 hours of the drive, I thought to myself that I could make a career of driving across the country. (The last four hours, after I'd exhausted the new music on my ipod and was squinting to see the lines on the road, I reconsidered.)

Once at my destination, I made about six trips up to the third-floor apartment (54 steps in all), with my bike, one of two of my enormous suitcases, and various other personal effects. I took great care in manually locking the passenger side door of my car, since lately it's been acting all busted with the automatic lock. Then this morning, when I went to my car to run by Target for a shower liner so I could bathe myself, I wiped the grime from my face, jaw dropping, to realize I'D LEFT THE GODDAMN REAR DOOR OPEN. Meaning: ipod! suitcase! car stereo! bike rack! shit, TOYOTA! all exposed to the residents of the complex, begging someone to steal it all. Luckily, it was all still there. I want to believe that this is because I am a good person, and not because I am really, really fucking lucky. Maybe both?

So anyway, the weather here is amazing (70 degrees, sun shining), and there are little tree buds blooming like crazy everywhere in green, pink, and white. Today I am enjoying this glorious weather during my last two days of vacation. I am errand-running at places like Ikea, Whole Foods, and the kitchen supply store in downtown Decatur. And I am super excited about settling in and living in a(nother) new city for a bit. Weee!

the golden weekend

Yesterday, I spent approximately 8 hours playing Peggle. I took a nap. I changed out of my pajama pants only to go to the liquor store. I had a dinner of waffles, bacon, oranges, and whiskey, then went to two parties.

Today, after an extraordinary Tex-Mex breakfast, what remains on the schedule is more napping, more Peggle, and afterwards, ice cream. It's very likely I may explode from vacation ecstasy.

I gotta go. The pj's are waiting.

best hosts ever

I'm in Austin now, finally able to fulfill my promise to myself for daily breakfast tacos, and I'm enjoying the town despite the gray, drizzly briskness. I'm staying with my friends Geoff and Griffon, and their adorable 3 1/2-year-old, Millie.

There is Peggle here - an xbox game I was previously ignorant to, which is the best, most time-sucking game ever. There is a constant stream of whiskey. And there are play parties between dad and daughter, involving dinosaurs with personal space issues, animal couples who go to therapy, and sugar-cookie afficionado kitties with rival blogs.

I never want to leave this place.

only temporary

I knew I was not a fan of the 'burbs, but ... ugh.

There are Hummers! And strip malls! So many churches, and Republicans! Plus, way more concrete than just a year ago.

I love Texas, and I grew up in this place, but it still gives me the shakes.

in transit

After the final four days with virtually no sleep, I was forced to say my goodbyes to Quebec City. The details were a blur, but I know that many friends (and new family) were bid farewell (for now), many festivities were shared, and a few tears were let go in the process.

It had been awhile since I was face-to-face with a town like Davenport. I'd just arrived in the midwest Thursday, was awake here for all of two hours, when I said to myself, "Fuck this noise. I'm going to Chicago." So the weekend was spent with more friends, until I had to face my responsibilities and return to Iowa. It really hasn't been all bad. There are friends here also, more goodbyes to bid soon, as well as the closing ceremonies to what has been a three-year blur. I graduate in just 14 hours, after which I'll have a "Doctor" before my name. Crazy. Yesterday I hugged my mom for the first time in over a year. And this weekend, I make the two-day drive back to Texas, where I have not been since early 2008. My car hasn't seen the state since 2005, as evidenced by my long-expired inspection sticker which I *hope* no state troopers will give me shit for until I can update.

Everyone around me is in the "so what are your plans?" mode. I am, too. It's interesting to find out what my fellow graduates are up to next, where they'll practice, how far our class is spreading. And even though I only have it figured out through June, I am perfectly alright with that. And I consider that no small feat. Just a year ago, not knowing what I was going to do two months down the road drove me crazy with worry. I am now embracing the process. It can be incredibly fun to not have any effing clue where you'll end up. And in the meantime, while I'm figuring it out, I consider myself overwhelmingly lucky to have had the experiences I've had.

So goes the week of closure to one era of my life. Here's to three (bland, albeit worthwhile) years in Iowa, three (amazing, incredible) months in Quebec, and the rest of my life in who-the-hell-knows-where. (Which way's the wind?)

last week in paradise

I sadly have only 8 more days left in Quebec, after which I'll spend a week back in Iowa, and then a month in Texas. I am now in the midst of the 'lasts.' My last full week of work. My last Thursday outing at Jos Dion. My last dinner with the Corriveaus. My last chance to practice French with people in my immediate surroundings. My last opportunity to walk through the most snow I've ever seen in one place. Just a few things I'm going to miss:

- Mr. T dubbed in French.

- small children speaking another language.

- Sunday evening dinners with my French family.

- the bakeries. holy chouette will I miss the bakeries.

- SNOW. (seeing it, tasting it, throwing it, trudging through it, driving in it...)

- Michele, saying things like:
... "I thought you said sex for breakfast!?"
... (While analysing films at work, after my comment on liking the easy cases) "I like my x-rays how I like my men."
... (After I tried to ask if she'd consulted the local weekly newspaper bout the goings-on for the weekend, by referring to simply "the Book") "Umm... the phone book? The Bible? Harry Potter?"
... (Every other day, after losing hers) "Can I borrow your sunglasses/gloves/keys?"

- walking to Le Pape Georges every Sunday night to see friends, music, and friends playing music.

- the view from my balcony.





Things I will love to have again, once I return to the tee-ex:

- the ability to go outside in a t-shirt.

- circulation in my fingers and toes. (you think I'm kidding.)


- mon pere, telling me to relax or take it in stride or use good judgment.
- ma chatte, waking me up by trying to eat my hair. (who knew a day would come when I'd want that back?)- breakfast tacos. oh my sweet lord, breakfast tacos. (no picture because I didn't wanna get my taste buds' panties in a twist.)

A huge part of me doesn't want to leave. I've had the time of my life here. I've learned a lot, both professionally and personally. I learned another language (sort of). I lived with someone for the first time in years, and it was with one of my best friends. I've made friends who I know I'll stay in touch with forever. And honestly, I would be happy to stay here for another, longer, chunk of my life. It's too bad that that's just not in the stars right now.

Still, with all that, it's good to know that as much as I've enjoyed my time here, and as much as I don't want to go, I'll soon have some irreplaceable favorites to return to.

Although I don't think it'll make saying goodbye any easier.

things quebec has taught me

I make friends easier than I previously thought.

When I lack control over too many things in my life, I tend to get grumpy and resent people in my immediate environment.

John Hiatt can be incredibly sexy.

I may be a bit of a masochist.

Something as simple as having the ability to drive myself to work can turn my whole world around.

Snow is one of my favorite things. It's one of the only substances that is beautiful both on a micro and macro scale. And it's fucking fun!

Waterproof shoes aren't really waterproof.

it's too early for that kind of talk

The chiropractic software program my boss (Mitch, or Michel) uses in his clinic allows for a doctor log-in and an assistant one. He for some reason chose 'assmichel' for the assistant name. I'm pretty sure he didn't realize what that sounded like until Michele pointed it out to him. Since then, he's said things like, 'put my ass up there' when he wants us to log in. The guy can be funny when he wants to be.

It was barely 8am, and one of the first sentences my boss said to me was, 'I want you to open an ass right here.'

the tag blag

My good friend Sophia tagged me. I was supposed to:
"Open the 6th picture folder on your computer, open the 6th photo and blog it. Write something about it. Then tag 6 more people to do the same."

My 6th picture folder had more folders of pics, so this is the 6th photo in the 6th folder of the 6th folder. Triple 6's, baby! This is an appropriate photo for the times, as it's taken with Michele, my current roommate/co-worker/sister/husband, and in it, we are attempting an AO gang sign (that's A for Atlas and O for Orthogonal, a kind of chiropractic we're both totally into) back when our hair was long and our town was Davenport, Iowa. We sadly didn't become friends until our very last year at Palmer, initially meeting because of a mutual interest in the AO club taking over the world. Or at least, going down in history as having the best bake sales EVER.

So it's a good choice, since that there's the girl I share an apartment, car, grocery list, paycheck, and bed with, and those letters represent what brought us together in the first place. <3

I don't know 6 people with blogs. I don't even think 6 people read this blog. But I'll go ahead and try to get Griffon (my multi-talented comic-writing friend) to do something similar.

year in review

I’ve been journaling for a few years now, and occasionally, I like to revisit some of the exhilarating/mundane/bizarre experiences I’ve written about. It’s always fun to relive some memories, laugh at myself, and from time to time cringe a little at my lack of perspective, reading and reminiscing with the 20/20 hindsight I wish I could channel as things are actually happening to me, instead of months later. I collected a few clips that I especially wanted to remember. Either because it was a good memory, or for the laugh or neuroticism factor, or both. I think they’re actually better read out of context. So may I present a random sampling, a window into the crazy head of vernaculauri...

- I need to enjoy the moment here, and stop worrying so goddamn much. So…nothing new.

- I am pissed and upset. But more upset. And pissed.

- Here I was not pursuing anything, and had these suggestions tossed at me like so many softballs. I was trying to decide whether I should try and catch a few of them or just keep laughing and let them fall.

- It was one of those dark days, where you can never tell what time it is because you can’t see the sun, but it’s ok, because the reflections off of slick streets and the subdued weather make everything feel a little more relaxed. It reminds me of sick days in elementary school, or maybe this one sick day, when the weather was horrible, but I laid on the couch and watched the Care Bears movie over and over and all was calm and right with the world. I love rainy days sometimes.

- But it is what it is. He is what he is, and I suppose, not what I thought.

- It’s funny how a day can change everything. Your life (sometimes), your mind, the course of your non-stop mental drivel.

- My dad told me I’d earned the opportunity that awaits me, and that I may as well take advantage of it. He also said … not to worry about things I can’t control (I know this), and that everything happens for a reason (I know this too), and that it will all unfold with time (ugh) and work itself out.

- You tell it, Time.

- I felt this overwhelming appreciation for my life and every aspect of it. I thought about how lucky and happy I am. All the places I’ve lived and will live in, the fact that I’m making the most of my 20s, and have no regrets, and that I’m not missing anyone or anything, but am single and glad to be, am free, am alive, and healthy.

- Lately I have felt so distant and boring. Like there’s not much presently going on in my life I am greatly passionate about. For every positive, there’s a negative. Just like life, I suppose. Everything just… is.

- And I know it’s totally dramatic, but I felt wounded to have had to cross that off my wish list.

- I gave it my frowning hour, so now, it’s a new day, with a new obsession to fixate upon. I just need to find one…

- Funny how years ago, during the teaching days, Sundays were the most awful, miserable days of my life, and now, they’re what I look forward to.
And I’m so thankful that I can look forward to them.

- They are beautiful strangers. Beautiful friends. ‘Get in where you fit in.'

- What an awesome old guy. He told me, “take it easy, ma chere.” I think that was the best advice I’ve been given in recent memory.