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?

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.