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.