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.