two things i never thought i'd do in a car...

1) Take a nap, while the car is running and sitting on a very well-populated freeway.

2)...
Let me preface by saying that 7 hours trapped inside of a vehicle can do funny things to a girl. Horrible things. Four inches of snow fell on Seattle, and the town went ape shit. Semis and buses were strewn across the freeways, cars slid out of control, lanes were blocked, cars abandoned on the side of the road, babies cried for their mothers, chaos, catastrophe, etc, etc.

Shitty things: this was the day I had a rental car, so I could not enjoy the ridiculously frivolous amenities my yuppie ass has grown accustomed to, like heated seats and satellite radio. And I'd left my phone charger in my car (which was getting serviced (sounds like my Jetta was off getting a BJ)), so my only form of entertainment (besides FM radio) was slowly being drained of battery-powered life. And. Most importantly. No snacks were to be had! The one day I didn't bring any turned out to be the one day I looked around me, approximately 3 hours into my 25 mile commute, ravenous, and thinking horrifying thoughts like, "Should I start rationing my water? How much longer could this possibly take? I might die here..."

Benificial things: the rental car had a full tank of gas, whereas my car was probably down to less than 1/3 of that. So it was actually fortuitous. If I'd had my car, I may have had to leave her on the side of the road after the gas ran dry. Let's hear it for silver lining!

Gross things: it's incredibly uncomfortable to sit for hours on end, with no dinner, and with a full bladder which is (at best) the size of a walnut. What's a girl to do in a situation like that? I seriously - seriously - considered hopping out and popping a squat in the middle of I-5 to make some yellow snow. Couldn't bring myself to do it. What I could finally convince myself to do? Grab my tupperware from lunch, stick it under my girl parts, and urinate while in the driver's seat. It was the only option. And I would totally do it again.

Sweet relief. You can't put a price on it.

holy flying time, batman

Sometimes, days crawl like slugs across a steaming Texas road. And other times, months pass in a flash, like a wink from an ok cutie, and then suddenly, the pacific northwest summer you'd been so looking forward to is gone and you're all, holy shit it's fall already and I remember when it was last October and I was impatiently awaiting the arrival of a certain quebecois and omg omg I'm so in lurrrv and I dunno what I'm doing with my life, where should I go next?? And then you reassess your life, and realize that while you're much more comfortable and settled, you still have no fucking clue what's going on, you still feel like you're 10 years younger than you are, and while most days are happy and amazing, there's an overall somewhat disturbing tone to your perception of the world, and it's unnerving that time has been flying like so.

Is it because you're turning 30 in a couple of months?

Is it because of yet another existential dilemma that's been hanging out on the back burner that you just can't shake?

Is it because everywhere you visit (Vancouver, Chicago) you want to live, and everyone you meet (Jude Law look-alike, adorable Asian girlfriend) you want to marry and everything you do (tai chi in the park, biking through Chicago at night) you want to be doing forever and ever, though you know you can't and won't and it just kills you that you can't have it all?

So, question for you, internets: how do you slow it all down and figure out how the fuck to calm down about it all?

big girl panties

Some developments in the world of Vernaculauri:

1. It appears that I'm nesting. Making my place a bit cozier and homey-er. Like a grown up, maybe? Painting some walls, planting some plants, and contemplating wall art and curtain-hanging.
2. I'm having a meeting with a realtor this week about the possibility of maybe finding a condo, one of these days, in like a year, when I can afford that kind of thing.
3. I finally set up a wireless router. Now I can poop while on the internets, if I was so inclined. And that is true freedom.

operation: lauri gets her act together

1. Sober up. The Summer of Binging has ended. Knocking a few back on the weekends or the occasional weekday happy hour is cool. But no more boozing on a regular basis. Liver says, "stop it now, lemme breathe!"
2. Get those hips to moving and shaking again. Girl gettin laaaazy.
3. Painted walls + hanging some curtains + cooking more at home = coziness, homey-ness, and happiness.
4. Return to that mantra that starts with a "re" and ends with a "lax." Neuroticism looks tacky on you. Homegirl needs to just breathe and let it flow.
5. Get the hell outta town (Chicago, I'm comin to see you real soon).

old/new (nothing borrowed, no longer blue)

Items found while cleaning out the contents of my '96 Camry, a car I have driven for a whole decade:
- A parking permit for the Texas Legislative Council, from a job I held in 2005.
- Gas receipts from Kansas City, 2005 (from a road trip), when gas was closer to $2/gallon.
- A receipt from a collision repair place in Austin, totalling more than 5k, from that nasty wreck in '01.
- Written directions from Davenport->Chicago, circa 2007.
- Mapquest directions (Mapquest! hah!) from Austin, TX->Davenport, IA, when I first went to check out the grad school at which I ended up spending 3.5 years of my life.
- Mix cassette tapes with music like: Rainer Maria, The Sea and Cake, The Gloria Record, Built to Spill, Very Secretary, Braid, and Komeda. All made prior to the year 2000.

She was a mighty fine auto, that Celia. Took me from Austin to Iowa (rested while I went to Quebec), to Houston, to Atlanta, to Washington. Never had nothin but Texas plates. It's fitting that she'd be buried with those. I drove her more than 100,000 miles.



And now. I have started with a clean slate. Bought the nicest thing I've ever owned (and totally fallen in love in the process). Meet Sexy Sadie.



It'll be fun to go through the memories I'll have collected with her, ten years from now. I plan on enjoying every mile.

gratitude

I love that I live in a city with amazing mountain sunsets, and that views seen from my walk home from the grocery store can make me sigh and get all giddy and feel pretty alright, even after a totally exhausting day at work.
I love that I'm not tied down to any one place or person, and that I'm free to do whatever suits my fancy and go wherever I'd like.
I love that I have patients who value me so much they give me hugs and cry because they are grateful for what chiropractic has done for them.
And that I have friends who are always available - any day of the week - to trade secrets with or sing karaoke with or listen to me bitch or help me through a car purchase or loan me money when I have locked myself out of my apartment.
And that I have a dad who I can tell about my crazy single life, and who laughs with me about it.
I love that rooftop barbecues exist in my life, and photo-boothing and soul nighting and Tuesday morning brunching.

My life is pretty great, and really funny sometimes. (Even when it's not.)

clarity

Amazing things can happen when the day starts with a full-body massage, ends with a hot bath, and there's a prozac-like cup of coffee in the middle.

Hello again, Big Picture. Long time, no see.

what happened here

how to recover from getting the fucking carpet pulled out from under you

Step 1.
Be in Seattle in the summertime.

Step 2.
Have amazing friends.

Step 3.
Buy something way cute to wear.

Step 4.
Go on a week-long social bender that includes boozing on multiple bar patios, attending a burlesque show, hanging out on the grass in city parks under sunny blue skies, playing leap frog in the streets, singing I'm On a Boat in the streets (while dancing), playing bingo (while dancing), singing karaoke while eating cake (while dancing), getting drunk on a Sunday evening and playing Jenga at a bar (...while dancing). So pretty much, boozing and dancing and chilling with wonderful lady friends who you are in love with and would totally bone if only you were a lesbian.

Step 5.
Resolve to be done with "crazy", and move onto "stable".

Step 6.
Buy a car.

Step 7.
Throw a fucking party.

quotable(/motorboatable)

"If I had big boobs, I would shake them."

"A fart is a turd honking for the right-of-way."

"I stun them with my personality gun (pew! pew-pew!)."

"Have the balls to have the boundaries."

"Don't you mix your crazy with my crazy."

"I put the F-U in 'fun'."

champion

Two Bingo nights in a row at The Chapel, and I've walked away with:
- two free drink cards,
- a 32-oz beer stein that was once filled with margarita, and
- a trophy of a woman with my name on it, kicking a soccer/very large bingo ball.

I don't like to brag, but it would appear that I am very good at this game.

i take it back

Despite drizzles and an eerie 4th of July chilliness (which I've never before experienced), I would have to revise my previously announced perfect weekend and say that this one beat it by a long shot. There was a candle-lit, seriously delicious evening of Serious Pie with a favorite couple, and there was brunching and coffeeing, bocce ball in the sun and happy hour with friends old and new. There was karaoke in a bar made for such an activity, and subsequently, singing in the streets, creating an experience I've always wanted to witness, if not be apart of: a real-life scene that could have been taken straight out of a musical. Or filmed and put into one.

I was walking with some friends just after last call, singing with one of them songs from the Grease soundtrack. Said friend set the stage with all the necessary showtunes theatrics (jumping onto the trunk of a car, dancing through the crowded corners of Pine street in Capitol Hill, all while singing "You're the One That I Want" and "Summer Lovin'" along with me). Hoards of drunken people were gathered outside of a pizza place, hanging out in that time of night between the last drink and your (or someone else's) bed, when the excitement from the night is mellowing, and the effects of alcohol bring strangers together in a friendly, noisy atmosphere filled with potential energy. Many were humming along with the tune as we passed by singing. But the scene was complete when a chubby, grubby, long-haired, grunged-out sausage vendor sang every word along with us as we passed, pointing to us and rocking out with the gusto of a chorus member from a Broadway play.

It was, in a word, fabulous.

Then top it off with two delicious barbecues, a glorious fireworks display seen from a crowded rooftop, and the feeling of loving life, and being loved in return. Even though I had to work today, and am feeling sluggish from the emotionally taxing/satisfying weekend, I say hell yes. What a weekend.

hi there, summer. i've been waiting for you.

I love Texas, don't get me wrong. The hospitality, the thunderstorms, the national beer. But it's hard to miss Austin and not adore the great state of Washington at times like these. Sure, summer took a while to get here, and I'm still getting used to wearing cardigans on cool June evenings (sweaters!! in the summertime! that shit's crazy!!!). But while my Texan friends and folks are sweating their tails off in 90-degree weather over the next couple of weeks, I'm enjoying some partly-cloudy, partly-sunny, temperate 60-to-70-something degree loveliness. And, along with it...

a gay pride parade

a block party

some rooftop BBQ's (wherein crowds can enjoy the sun instead of melting under it)

many hikes both in and out of the city

movies in parks

...and, I expect, so much more. And, what's this? It's JULY already! Oh, my. I must have been having fun lately.

monday night summary

[Lauri returns from work.]
Gail: I'm not wearing any pants!
Lauri: Where do you want to eat?
G: I'm planning my first tattoo!
L: Let's get food!
G: Oh shit, I lost my barnacle!
L: I'm so excited to get another tattoo with you! (When are we eating?)
G: I'm so nervous! What if the tattoo artist is mean to me?
L: Then I will punch him for you.
G: OMG, I love this backpack!
[They meet with Emily.]
G: Um, are you sure you can have a drink before getting a tattoo? [x7]
[One drink later:]
G: Shit, the tattoo place is closed.
L: Let's leave and get ice cream.
[Two blocks away:]
G: Oh no, where's my barnacle? I left it by the tattoo place!
L: Where's Emily's digital camera? [Gail smiles sheepishly.]
[Two scoops of salted caramel ice cream, and nine drinks later:]
Gail/Emily/Lauri: What's up with boys? They're stupid.
[Nine more drinks later, everyone heads home.]
L: I know it's already almost 3am, but we should put on Boyz II Men and sing along.
G: Great idea!
[They sing, then pass out.]

[scene]

good save

I purposely did not write anything about my Memorial Day weekend, due to the overall shittiness of the whole thing. May was mostly excellent, but I give its ending two big fat thumbs (way) down.

However, I can safely talk about life again, because of the incredibly amazing awesomeness that this past weekend has brought. I have friends visiting me from Chicago who in and of themselves make me happy. Compound their presence with a wildly entertaining karaoke session, a delightfully sunny day, a charming night of jazz bands, (slightly) drunken Scrabble, and speakeasies, and then a day spent in nature with friends: a hike on the Olympic peninsula, ending with a picnic in a big old steamy hot spring. I can't express how wonderful it is to live in the Pacific Northwest. The raw beauty is really more impressive than I could even try and articulate. The weekend thus ended rendering me a very exhausted and happy girl.

So if I thought May was going to be a magnificent month, I'm almost scared for how great June will be. With a beginning like this, there's no telling. Summer is here. Excellence continues. (And we'll just forget about that little blip on Memorial Day.)

finally

Thanks to one of these, some of these, and a kitty who managed to stay quiet throughout the morning, I was able to get 9 hours of sleep for the first time in months.

So, summertime morning light in Seattle, with your obnoxious eagerness to show your face before 6 am, you are no longer a threat to me. Hah (and, strrrrreeetchh)!

lessons

This song taught me something about my life, which songs are wont to do sometimes. Incidentally, it should be titled "May".

And just for kicks, go on and appreciate these next two gems. (Go on, I say.)

rescued

exploding chest cavity + bad hair/face/confidence day + twisted up insides + horrendous to-do list at work = miserable Monday

...and the above plus....

lovely friends named Ann and Abby and Dad + a big ol' bowl of Russo marinara sauce (accompanied by a large glass o' wine) + gloriously hot bath PLUS the promise of a Broken Bells show tomorrow

... all equals ...

potential heart attack averted, and I just may heart life again. (or at least not be cursing at it. for the time being.)

implode, explode

I really love the She & Him station on pandora these days.

chuckling

Thanks, Boyz II Men, for making my day.

Throw your clothes on the floor
I'm gonna take my clothes off too

...they just don't make love songs like they used to.

useful

"there'll be love, love, love, wherever you go."
-Noah & the Whale

"a lie may take care of the present, but it has no future."
-unknown

"we tell lies when we are afraid... afraid of what we don't know, afraid of what others will think, afraid of what will be found out about us. but every time we tell a lie, the thing that we fear grows stronger."
-Tad Williams

"everything's ok in the end; if it's not ok, it's not the end."
-wordboner.com

holy effing gorgeous day

After a tres fulfilling week last week (Jonathan Richman at the Tractor Tavern, impromptu drinks with international friends, Pioneer Square art walk) and a kick-ass weekend, complete with dancing, sunshine, and Sedaris, I am suffuciently re-toxified and couldn't be happier.

The weather's been downright glorious. So much so that I got a bit overzealous today and decided to wear a skirt. What I knew before I left the house: it was in the 60s, and the sun was out. What I did not know: it was a bit windy, and if I was to try walking uphill in a short sundress, inevitably it would at some point get blown up, catch on my underwear, and remain there for a minute until I realized it. So, a few cars traveling toward Capitol Hill on the Denny bridge today around 10:30, if they were looking in the right direction, saw some unexpected skivvies, with a little bit of tush atop some very white legs. I was slightly embarrassed for about five minutes, laughing and rolling my eyes at my wardrobe faux-pas, but certainly didn't let it ruin my day. I continued on my way, skirt pulled a bit tighter, gathered in my hand the rest of the walk to the post office. I feel like at least once every other week since I've been here, a walk outside or a drive home or a great night out prompts me to fall in love with the city all over again. It's quite refreshing, those revelations. (Also refreshing: cool breezy drafts up your dress on a day like today.)

And so. It's lovely outside. Work is happily busy. I'm purchasing a tent soon (my first!) in preparation for what will surely be the greatest music festival of all time, ever. And I'm starting to think about planning weekend trips to places like the San Juans and Ocean Shores and the Olympic Peninsula. Siiigh.

I KNEW this month was gonna be a-may-zing. Totally called it.

saturday night haikus

Musical genius.
Making friends on the dance floor.
High five for Soul Night.

Killer jams all night.
Crowded club, dancing barefoot.
Home: wash the black feet.

springtime fever

Dear May,

I know we just met, but I'm already totally in love with you. Let's make out.

Love,
Lauri

contentment

If you could bottle days, this would be one to cork and keep. Not even for an exciting event or special purpose. Just for being so... nice.

It was a leisurely morning, with a walk through downtown to Elliott Bay. I did some cafe-lounging with a good book. I had my lunch paid for. I got lost in Chinatown. I caught up with an old friend over the phone. What started out as a mostly cloudy morning turned into a gloriously beautiful day, with big fat fluffy cumulus clouds scattered across an impossibly blue sky. Work was a fast half-day, and was fun and relaxed. I had dinner with a girlfriend, where we talked careers and boys and Seattle.

As Kurt Vonnegut would urge me to announce in contented moments like these: if this isn't nice, I don't know what is.

hey alright i might be goddamned

It's a beautiful spring in Seattle. The sun is now rising before my alarm goes off each morning. I'm starting to wear more skirts and sandals and fewer scarves and jackets. And I'm one happy girl in the middle of one happy week.

Today was the day. The beginning of the beginning. The start of a great transition. I am training a newbie to soon take over my job so that I may be bumped up a notch on the doctor ladder. This will mean, ultimately, more free time (no more nights analyzing x-rays till 8 o'clock), more time spent adjusting patients, fewer menial tasks, and soon, a higher income and (eventually) a full day off (4-day work week, say whaaaat?).

After such a cartoonishly hellish summer '09, when many dinners consisted of sardines and crackers and I was too poor to buy a cup of coffee, and after another several months of car problems leading to credit card debt leading to a great big stack o' bills that left me scrape, scrape, scraping by financially, times they are finally a-changing.

Not that I want to count my chickens before they hatch. I'm only getting quite pleased at watching those little egglets incubate under the warm, sunny glow of the impending Pacific northwest summer. Should be a helluva good one.

compendium

This song makes me smile.

This video makes me happy.

So does this quote:
"Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering."
(The History of Love, Nicole Krauss)

Happy Monday.

mmm... food babies.

After being given the opportunity to participate in a month-long detox program, with all necessary supplements provided free of charge by my boss, I was initially excited to take on the challenge. Like most things, I loved the idea of it, but when the start-date was fast approaching, I began having second thoughts. I became skeptical, then apprehensive, then I very nearly changed my mind. A whole month without alcohol, or coffee with cream? No wheat AT ALL (which means pretty much no eating anything anywhere except my home, where I normally don't eat but a few meals per week)?! I became downright pissy about the prospect of starting this thing, till I told myself to buck up and get it done, already. I've spent the last one, maybe two months eating a lot of crap, completely falling off the fitness wagon, and over-indulging on the weekends (and after most major meals). I really need this.

Still, I am by nature a consumer of food. I wish I could make a living on it, as it's What I Do. Really, what I spend most of my money on. I love it. The variety, the textures and tastes. If food could be my boyfriend, I'd be happily married by now, and would have many delicious babies with names like Fried Fennel and Flourless Chocolate Torte and Chutney. (The children would each only live a few hours at a time, but handsome, sexy Food and I would constantly be making more.) The social activity of eating out is one of my favorite things to do, ever. So, given the thought of an entire 30 days without so many of the things I love? It had my taste buds and tummy saying: 'Fuuuuck... I dunno know about this.'

And so, in an effort to go out with a bang, and indulge as much as I could before this crazy thing started, I spent two nights in a row, two weekends in a row, staying out past 4am, and eating and drinking all the deliciousness I could get my hands on and mouth around. (The perverted connotation of the last phrase was unintended, but noted.) I wasn't stuffing myself, but lately I have been very liberal with what I've been enjoying, in terms of how healthy the item was or was not (mostly was not). Sweet potato fries. Chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. Lamb burgers. Stuff that I probably wouldn't eat under normal circumstances, but felt like I had to because I wouldn't have the chance the following week or four. It's been gustatory debauchery, to the max. And now?

I feel like a lethargic lardo who wants nothing more than to live on crunchy vegetables and pure H2o, for a year. I have no motivation to touch a drop of alcohol any time soon. I am freaking thrilled to soon be cleansing myself of all the toxins I've dumped into my system as of late. So... all the toxing-up I've been doing the last couple of weekends, all the filling up on a bunch of "lasts" (oh no! my last grilled cheese for a month! ... good god! last cafe nico! ... uggghhhh, my last cocktail for a whole 4 weeks, best have another one, so it'll tide me over!), was all it took to get my ass in gear and actually WANT to restrict my diet, if only temporarily.

I'm pretty stoked about the future outcomes. I'll obviously be giving my liver a much-needed break. I'm sure I'll have more energy, and maybe even shed a little of the 'round-the-middle-pudge I've been collecting recently. And if I'm real lucky, maybe this'll fix my breaking car and solve my money problems as well. (Well, they said this program could change your life... I'm just optimistically extrapolating.)

"it's a win-win situation"

...and I do love winning.

It's nice when you have a friend who can lighten your perspective on a topic and help you to think clearly and rationally, all in all improving your outlook and helping you to relax and see the big picture.

It's even nicer when he's your dad.

For the 92% of the time we're on the phone when he's (a) distracted with another conversation, (b) trying to navigate his way through a grocery store/parking lot/interstate, or (c) talking in (extreme) detail about baseball, he makes that last 8% so valuable that I'm willing to say he's batting at least .750.

weighting is the hard part

I've always found it interesting and appropriate that the idea of "weight" is often used metaphorically with an emotional connotation. There's a heaviness that comes with intense feelings and profound events. We use words like "carefree" and "lighthearted" to convey joy, or an absence of emotional turmoil. "Baggage" and "burden" are commonly used to communicate emotional status. It's pervasive in the English language, and I love it. (There could be a whole other discussion on why this is, such as material worries contrasting spiritual enlightenment. I'll save that for another time.)
Some of my favorite examples follow.

- An overall theme in The Unbearable Lightness of Being, being weighed down with emotional burdens vs transcending all things tangible.

- The oft-used "heavy boots" and "light boots" by Oskar Schell's character in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close to convey depressed moods or optimistic ones.

- The idea that you can share some weight and make someone else's experience a little lighter, as in, "Take a load off Annie, And you put the load right on me" (The Band, The Weight).

- Also, weight as a purpose. "All I need's a little time, to get behind the sun and cast my weight" (Air, All I Need), and, "Take a drink just to give me some weight..." (The Shins, A Comet Appears).

- Then finally, my favorite poem, Song, by Allen Ginsberg. Every time I read it, even if years go by in between revisits, its beauty and truth are reasserted to me. "The weight of the world is love." So true. (And so beautiful.)

This Monday, I'm feeling a bit heavy for one reason or another. Maybe it's due to the hailing, rainy, gray, exhausting start to the week, when such an incredibly satisfying and enlightening one preceded it.
I'm realizing it's the hardest lesson to learn, to let go of the things you have no control over... reliquishing your grip on a false sense of power over the course of events, and releasing the emotional weight that comes along with such a feat. I'd like to think I'm getting better at it. At least, I hope I am.

'thank you' i.e. 'F U'

To the cop who gave me a speeding ticket on the way to work this morning:

How is it that I stood out in the midst of all the cars surrounding me who were going the exact same speed? What was it about my shitty '96 Camry with a dented front fender that made you think I could afford a traffic violation, when the shiny silver BMW 3-series in front of me sped off immediately after you flagged me down? Do you enjoy crushing the souls of the financially downtrodden, and making a living from it?

My cat just got a $600 tooth pulled. My car just had to have $250 worth of repairs. I am in so much credit card debt that it sometimes makes me hyperventilate. And yet, I was the lucky one who attracted your attention when you were searching for a sucker to pay a fine. Was I supposed to thank you when you told me you knocked down the initial penalty from $175 to $93? Do you understand that I have less than that amount to buy my gasoline and groceries with for the next two weeks preceding payday? And - I ask again - did you not realize that every. other. fucking. car on the highway. was ALSO going 70-something in a 60, and I was not a rebel in this scenario? Fuck this. Fuck you. Your mother is a slut, your baby is an uggo, and your penis is tiny.

[...breathing...]

Though, perhaps I've been getting a bit too rushed these days when I'm on the road. "Going with the flow of traffic" is a slippery slope, really. Because once the car in front of me slows down and I see others flying past, I get the urge to weave in and out of traffic until I'm cruising with the speedsters. Until I want to pass them up, too... just so I get ahead, and win, I guess, in some bizarre sense.

I hate to admit it to you, asshole policeman, that it was rather nice remembering to slow down on the afternoon commute (lest I get another $93 slap in the face from a chickenshit colleague of yours). It was a beautiful sunset behind the Olympics that I was able to peacefully witness, and a rather lovely spring soundtrack that my iPod shuffle was adding to the scenery. It's nice to let others pass you sometimes, and to let go of the tense-shouldered, speeding-to-win mentality that's seemed to take hold of me as of late.

I still wish the lesson didn't cost me the rest of my bank account (read: your mom's still totally a slut).

social satisfaction

It feels so nice when you are surrounded by people who understand and challenge you, and make you both feel like a good person and strive to be a better one. No, 'nice' isn't it at all. There may be a suitable word, but I don't know it.

Suffice it to say that this may have been the weekend that trumped all other weekends. Spring came, and with it, clarity. Tra la la.

run down

I'm tired as hell and my throat is yelling at me for more fluids than I can physically give it. I'm gonna go let a delicious dose of Paul Newman circa 1960 heal me. (You may as well give up after the first minute. After that, a silly shirt on his back goes and ruins the view.)

it was a week

..a little bit of a splendid one, and a little bit of a crap one.

I gave a talk about chiropractic, and people liked it, and understood it. I even got new patients from it. And I networked with some other doctors, and felt good about my job. I was happy and proud.

I was social. I met new people. I had many dinners with my beautiful visiting friend, who has a knack for making beautiful dinners. And we talked about families and growing up and loving people and breaking up and we shared stories and laughed and cried.

And then I saw something I wish I hadn't seen, and felt like I'd been kicked in the teeth (thanks for that, Facebook, you asshole). And then, my kitty broke, costing me a crapload of money to fix an infected tooth. In fact, in retrospect, I should have used my cat as a medium between me and Facebook, so that she would have caught the brunt of the blow, and her lousy tooth could have been kicked out, in essence saving me $600 and a bit of emotional turmoil. This obscure talk is making no sense, I know. I stop now.

Anyway, all's okay still, because in this week's case, the happy outweighed the metaphorical mouth beating. And luckily, I still have a beautiful visiting friend, for at least another day. Plus, the weekend is presenting more dinners and laughing and dinner partying and dance partying and fun and smiles and more laughing.

Take that, tooth kicker.

this is what growing up is, maybe (i think)

I dig this town. Really, I do. I still don't have even an inkling as to whether I'll actually settle here for good (or even what that means exactly), but this place is good for me. It might be turning me into somewhat of an adult, even.

Some evidence:

I am suddenly not just interested in, but motivated to paint my walls. (Contrast this nesting behavior with that of two months ago, when I was freaked out over the prospect of committing to a one-year lease.)

I am looking into purchasing foliage for my home, in hopes that I'll soon learn how to not kill things that are growing in buckets of dirt.

I opened an IRA and am now saving for retirement. (Although, this still makes me laugh a little bit, since I have barely begun paying my student loans.)

I am learning how to do things like make homemade bread and chicken stock.

When people call me "doctor" now, I almost believe them.

I enjoy dancing without a load of booze in my system, as per college days. And not just alone in my apartment in my underwear, but in public (with other people in the vicinity, who may see me moving around).

Personal growth is a wonderful thing. Fun, too.
...

On the other hand, I still giggle at places called "Honey Hole," overreact about stickers not peeling easily off of newly purchased goods, get self-conscious when I'm meeting people for the first time, and blush and look away whenever a boy smiles at me. Maybe some things will never change.

well said, mr. vonnegut

on music:
"It makes practically everybody fonder of life than he or she would be without it."

on humanism:
"And if I should ever die, God forbid, I hope you will say, 'Kurt is up in heaven now.' That's my favorite joke."

on life:
"There's only one rule that I know of: Goddamn it, you've got to be kind!"

on recognizing happiness:
"And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'"

an FML weekend

Just when I thought life couldn't get any weirder, a weekend occurs that will be story-telling fodder for the rest of my days. It definitely wasn't all bad. I mean, when 7 hours of shopping, a Weeds marathon, and Emerald City Soul Club are condensed into two crazy days, fun is most surely part and parcel. But it certainly wasn't all good, either.

Then again, whatever. Good or bad, at least it was ridiculous and exciting. Which is all you can ever really ask out of life, right?

with a little help from my friends

Recipe for patching up a broken Lauri:

- screwdrivers, served up with Twin Peaks and good company
- talking a bunch of shit to a screen full of football players (this one is totally new to me. surprise! football can be fun!)
- tea, sympathy, and ginger cookies
- can you say en-dor-phins?

And it doesn't hurt to walk through Seattle on a sunny morning with a helluvan Americano in hand. Serious Pie and Indian curry leftovers are definite bonuses, too.

Me=lucky gal, on the mend.

broken

Goodbyes are hard. Somebody cheer me up. Pretty please?

dear february '10,

So far, you've been an asshole and made me cry. It looks as though you might be shaping up, so I'll go ahead and ease up if you keep on truckin uphill. Otherwise, you'll be on my shit list. And you surely don't want that (just ask July '09).

Thanks a bunch,
Lauri

p.s. It would be great if you could stop making me feel like this, and started making me feel a little more like this. Or even like this. K, thx again. Good chat. Glad we talked.

uh oh

The days of mandatory hot baths and Amelie-watching - aka The Recipe to Restore Lauri's Faith in Humanity - have returned. Something must be amiss.

peace out, january

...but before you go, let me thank you for kicking in the new year with such awesome friends and partying greatness.

February, you have some big shoes to fill.

worn out contentment

"Sorrow is nothing more than worn out joy."


- Will Oldham, Old Joy


Thursday and Friday last week turned out to be nearly 12-hour workdays. I'd reached a level of fatigue I haven't experienced in a long while. My friend once told me, shortly after the birth of his daughter, how he'd never known such a level of exhaustion. But it was a happy sort of tired, since there was the joy and fascination surrounding the presence of this little human who was new to the world and had half his DNA. I imagined he was feeling that giddy type of delirium that occurs when you haven't slept for days but have good reason to be happy... you're with friends, someone tells a joke or just says something stupid, and you start laughing and cannot stop yourself from cracking your ass up into a delightfully silly fit of hysteria (times 17 probably, if you add the birth of your first child).


I can't say I'm feeling any transcendental kind of joy, but I will say that it feels good sometimes to work yourself to the point of utter exhaustion. Even if you feel like you've been run over by a truck. Even if the workday has you running around like crazy, rushing to take care of all the people who have flooded your clinic, worrying that you're making them wait too long. Even if upon your return home, you feel a bit crumpled and want nothing more than to lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling (or alternatively, chill on the couch with three key items: a glass of wine, a bar of dark chocolate, and a kitty curled up in the crook of your arm). It feels good to get all listless because you spent the day doing something. Especially if that something is useful and valuable.


On the way to work Friday morning, still feeling the effects of the long day before, and not yet knowing the extent of the day to come, I had a tiny yet glorious revelation that started to perk me up out of my morning fog: I like my life. Where I'm at, what I'm doing, who I'm spending my time with. And it sure didn't hurt that minutes later, as I passed downtown Seattle and came upon that telling first curve on I-5 which reveals whether or not I'll get to stare at Mount Rainier or a blanket of cloud cover on that morning's commute, my eyes feasted upon not only a clear sky with the mountain in plain view, but a remarkable sunrise over the Cascades, gray and yellow with thick cloudy tinges of blue and purple, which gave me a mysterious burst of energy and made me grin, jaw dropping at the beauty before me, at how wonderful it feels to live in the midst of such natural splendor. I feel so grateful to have happened upon this corner of the country, and of all the places I could have lived, to have picked a place where morning after morning the sunrises make me smile in disbelief and shriek aloud and where the job rewards me with sighs of relief from people who have been helped out of their painful ruts and where the hard work makes me aware of my body and my strength and my limits, and challenges me every day.

Yes, indeed, I really like my life.

tuesday morning slow down

"Find stillness. When you keep moving around, you can't feel as much."
-Yoga Instructor

"When you stop controlling, things take care of themselves."
-Yoga Instructor

"Take it easy."
-Dad

current obsessions

• My Morning Jacket. I seriously want to touch them, or I might scream.
• Kurt Vonnegut. It's been years since I read one of his novels, but this book makes me nod in agreement a lot and laugh out loud, and lately it's been making me a happier individual in general.
• Yoga. Six years since my last Bikram yoga class and I'm remembering why I went so much as a college student. It's nice to engage in an activity that both challenges you and makes you feel successful. And makes you sweat bullets.
• Seattle Public Library. I cannot speak highly enough of free music and movie rentals. I just added about $300 worth of freebies to my music collection. (I know, piracy is a crime and I'm going to hell. But at least my trip there will be full of ipod awesomeness.)

turn-around

I've been in and out of an impatient little rut lately. Last night it culminated when I realized I missed my old best friend, whom I haven't spoken with in over a year. It didn't help that I'd just gotten a bad haircut and a bill for a student loan that I have to start paying next month. Add to that an overwhelming feeling of loneliness after being the last one to leave the cafe before closing, right when the sky opened up and starting crying all over me.

This morning, I vented to a pair of understanding, girly ears, and then walked to the library to check out some movies. And like a treat from the sky (or maybe an apology for it blubbering on me yesterday), the clouds opened up and the sun shone through for the better part of an hour. I stopped by the Crumpet Shop and grabbed myself a pesto-tomato-English cheese treat. Isn't that such a fun word to say? Crumpet.


crumpet crumpet crumpet.


And then I read a quote by Kurt Vonnegut:
"We are dancing animals. How beautiful it is to get up and go out and do something. We are here on Earth to fart around. Don't let anybody tell you any different."

As I walked back home with my post-crumpet tea in hand, having done nothing majorly productive, but having gotten out, accomplished something, and chased a little bit of that elusive sunlight, I agreed.

I don't know if it was the crumpet or the Vonnegut or the farting around, but I felt exponentially better.

i told you so

It feels good to start the new year off with the feeling of being so right about something... 2009 and I were most definitely friends, as I'd predicted. Travel buddies. Love buddies. Career-starting homies. New cities, fun times, and a whole lotta changes took place. Yeah, we were totally BFFs, me and 2009.

And now The Year During Which I Will Turn 30 is here. If you were to ask me as a spritely, naive young 21-year-old, I would have told you that's just sooo far away, and omg, I'll be so old! But surprisingly, I feel great about it. Almost every 40-plus-year-old I know has expressed that life begins at 30, or the prime of their lives took place during that decade. So I say to 2010 and its upcoming December: BRING IT.

Welcome, two-thousand win. I'm excited for this new decade. How bout y'all?