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Yesterday was the first day I’ve missed blogging since I started. And for a very special reason. Excuse the sentiment in this post, but I hope you understand.

Yesterday, I did something I’ve never done before. A rite of passage, if you will. Something that girls dream of and long for, a step towards womanhood and maturity, a coming of age…I spent a long time weighing the pros and cons – “Is this the right time? Am I ready? Am I sure I want this?” – I asked friends for their opinions.

It was a sunny day, yesterday, when I made my decision. We were strolling in Multnomah Village, Tyka and I, when I realized that now is the time. These sorts of things don’t benefit by being put off. When you’re ready, you’re ready, and you know it. No sense in waiting.

So I did it. I took the plunge. I embraced my femininity. I got my ears pierced.

Ah, the lighter side of Orthodoxy. Have you ever laughed uncontrollably in church? Maybe you’re going to the wrong one. Let me take this chance to tell you a little about the Orthodox Church, and why, if you’re a person who is easily amused, you should consider attending one.

1. We sing in awkwardly translated metaphors. Hungry? Try the ‘corn of foregiveness.’ Want to return to a more agrarian life? Try a threshing/winnowing/chaff metaphor. Feeling at loose ends? Try ‘lock me up in your storehouse and save me.’ And that was all tonight!

2. Feel like church is too serious? Are all those vestments making you feel like it’s a bit stuffy? Invite a visiting priest who looks like Mr. Magoo!

3. As it is unexpectedly announced that Fr. Magoo will be giving a talk, beat a hasty retreat to the door, speed-crossing yourself in an attempt to get out before friends’ dad/regular priest sees you. Increase speed as he calls out ‘no sneaking out the back, girls!’ Realize that one of Tyka’s brothers (who is in our charge tonight) is stuck as an acolyte and can’t make it out in time! Hide in basement, listening to Fr. Magoo drone over speakers, while brother #2 capers.

Rest assured that this blog will continue to feature the lighter side of the troparia as we set sail on the sea of the great fast. Coming attractions: the holy and mercenary healers! Doubting Thomas’ inquisitive right hand! Mystically clapping hands! Stay tuned!

Because I’m feeling organized (what’s new?):

I performed my libations by:
1. finally showering. It’s not like I was all dirty and smelly (although no one was around to tell me if I was) and as a whole I think we shower too much, but I’d like to take this opportunity to offer up my sincere appreciation for Indoor Plumbing and Hot Water. I’d also like to thank Weekends Off, which made this shower possible through a grant of Sleeping In and Free Time. (Resolution #4)

2. partaking in a leisurely pot of B&B, my Saturday morning libation of choice. Even though all that cream probably wasn’t good for my cold.

I also successfully completed Resolution #1 by baking and consuming a slice of heaven. Well, several slices. Well, all of it. Gradually.

For those of you who Love Mail, this is the book for you. It is based on, and I quote, A True Story about Boxes. What could be more charming? Read it. Read it to someone else. Repeat. (Cause that’s what we do here.)

While we’re on the topic of shipping, let’s talk about why delivery persons see fit to hide boxes in our recycling bin. Yes, it prevents passers-by from thinking ‘I wish that was for me – let’s take it!’ but it could also prevent us, the intended recipients, from discovering said box. I was awoken the other morning by a banging on my door, I rushed in my pajamas to see who it was, I shouted after the courier (“HEY!!”) lest he depart with any packages requiring signatures, and he informed me that it was in the overturned recycling bin. Where it would have remained until the next recycling day, alone and sad. Possibly molding, although we’ve been short on rain. Fortunately, the next time this happened (with the competition company) I was already onto their tricks. What was in the box? Natural goodness.

This entry brought to you by the melodic sounds of our washer and Cowboy Junkies (why is it that I can only handle listening to one of their albums?)

Eating out alone: yea or nay?

I’ve always been fine with eating out alone, but I know people who think of it as something to be avoided at all costs. But come on, my book is going to keep me company whether I’m at my own table with leftovers or sitting next to strangers at the baggage carousel of sushi.

Plus my inner non-conformist enjoys going out alone on a Friday night. Nice fat book tucked under my arm. And you can squeeze into the weird little spots along the carousel. Get your salmon fix.

I’m a little low on the wit and banter today, folks. As you can see below, today got off to a great start. It got even better when I realized by body is giving in to Round Three of The Cold/Flu. Hopefully a good night’s sleep will cure this (like water off a duck’s back! Get away from me!)

I’m on the red couch with Tyka’s laptop and some throat coat tea. Oh, did I just figure out how easy links are? I sure did! Now if we can just get this blog rolling…one step at a time, people, one step at a time! And the internets will be mine! I’m also listening to Ryan Adams courtesy of poppymom and her musical selections (because I’m too damn lazy to get off this couch and put on a CD).

If I survive the night, I plan on doing the following tomorrow:
1. making an apple oven pancake. Eggy, appley goodness
2. purchasing yarn in a shade known as aubergine, in order to finish a scarf and reclaim my knitting needles
3. cleaning relics of our childhoods out of a closet, with my sister (I had the urge to turn “sister” into a link, but what could I link her to? Ahh…how about this, middle child of my heart?)
4. sleeping in, with a clear conscience.

For those of you who get a kick out of me swearing…you SO should’ve been around when I woke up this morning. You would’ve had a field day.

7:30 am – when I’m supposed to get up, in order to shower and eat breakfast.
8:00 am – when I normally leave for work on Fridays.
8:30 am – when I normally arrive at work on Fridays, being the person with the key.
9:00 am – when I’m supposed to unlock the door at work with aforementioned key.
Proceed with day.

But no, today looked more like this:
8:50 am – awaken. Take note of sunlight coming through window.
8:51 am – swear profusely.
8:52-:55 am – begin calling people – my manager, the business park, dispatch. Explain situation in croaky morning voice. Repeat.
8:55-9:00 am – brush teeth, dress, run to car. Begin lamenting lack of morning shower, breakfast, and ability to wake up in time.
9:00-9:20 am – drive recklessly whilst engaging in inane conversations with myself. Berate fellow drivers.
9:22 am – open doors.

Can I go to bed now? Too bad I have to close tonight, too.

Anyone wanna have sushi with me?

And by “been to” I can mean anything from “sat in the airport for a few hours” to “spent a few weeks there.”

bold the states you’ve been to, underline the states you’ve lived in and italicize the state you’re in now…
Alabama / Alaska / Arizona / Arkansas / California / Colorado / Connecticut / Delaware / Florida / Georgia / Hawaii / Idaho / Illinois / Indiana / Iowa / Kansas / Kentucky / Louisiana / Maine / Maryland / Massachusetts / Michigan / Minnesota / Mississippi / Missouri / Montana / Nebraska / Nevada / New Hampshire / New Jersey / New Mexico / New York / North Carolina / North Dakota / Ohio / Oklahoma / Oregon / Pennsylvania / Rhode Island / South Carolina / South Dakota / Tennessee / Texas / Utah / Vermont / Virginia / Washington / West Virginia / Wisconsin / Wyoming / Washington D.C /
Go HERE to have a form generate the HTML for you.

I’m inside. I want to be outside. But I’m at work and outside is a business park – ie, ugly. Oh, but the sunshine! Only two more hours and then I’m released into the wild. For a few hours at least, in an odd break between jobs. Then I can walk in freedom in my yuppie neighborhood. Have I mentioned how much I love my neighborhood? Much.

I’m within four blocks of such delights as the “friendliest” grocery store in Portland, a great coffee shop, Grand Central Bakery, a library (which I do not use, since I already spend half my working life in a library, but I could use it if I wanted to), a Thai restaurant, a big park…Not to mention Furbish! Oh Furbish, how I love your name. Furbish itself is really boring – janitorial supplies – but the name! In an ideal world, there would be two little shops who lived next door to each other. And their names would be Garish & Tweed and Furbish. In the not-so-ideal world, Furbish is my neighbor. And I’m not a shop, just a blog, that occasionally gets written near Furbish.

Back to my neighborhood – I will partake of its joys this afternoon. I will stroll, I will frolic. I will soak up some Vitamin D (does one soak Vitamin D? Enlighten me).

I think my 10 minute break was over a few minutes ago.

I’m eating some carrots for a snack at work. I have snack time, did you know that? Doesn’t it sound like kindergarten? But that’s what I call my breaks – snack time. Because that’s what they’re for. My schedule is wonky enough that some days I can squeeze in lunch before leaving for job 1 at 12:30, but sometimes I’m just not hungry then. So I take my break about now and have a snack. Then I go to job 2 at dinner time, or what would be dinner time if I didn’t have this weird schedule and 2 jobs. Because both are part-time, neither one gives me a real lunch break on these split days. So then about 7 or 8 pm, I have another snack at job 2. All this snacking can really take it out of you and I come home hungry/tired at 9 pm.

But the carrots – let’s not forget the carrots. Tyka and I played hosts for an impromptu beer tasting last night. And by beer tasting, I mean there was swirling, sniffing, tasting, and discussion happening right in our living room. We even joined in and wrinkled our noses and offered opinions. My contribution to the evening? “This one tastes like carrots. Bad carrots. You know, when it’s too big and you get down to the bottom and it’s a little bitter and you wish you still had some of the yummy thin part to get the flavor out of your mouth?” I thought they should say that it had “a forward flavor of aged carrots” in their write-up.

Just moments ago I tried to comment, in a friendly and generous fashion, on someone else’s blog. I received this error message: ‘Your comment was denied for questionable content.’ I searched my comment for any possible innuendo, but I’m at a loss folks. Maybe my comment just wasn’t exciting enough.

It’s a known fact that I laugh a lot. Sometimes too much. But mostly I laugh when no one else is laughing. People ask ‘what’s so funny?’ But if you didn’t already see it, you won’t think it’s funny when I tell you. Sorry. I also like to take things out of context to make them funnier. Yeah, true, it messes with my ‘serious, reserved and quiet’ image, but really I’m thinking of ditching that. Where has it gotten me? Elected to the Women’s Group executive committee at church. By ‘elected,’ I mean there were 5 people who volunteered, and 5 positions to fill. I felt really honored when those ballots came in.

Another fact is that I get a kick out of shocking people, which is probably why I’ve kept the ‘serious, reserved and quiet’ image around. Because what’s more fun than shattering people’s perceptions? They see: Women’s Group, Sunday School teacher, responsible worker. They don’t see: me and roomie with wine in hand, Saturday night, bemoaning the fact that we don’t have lesson plans for the next day’s Sunday school. Okay, that’s not really shocking. I can do better…the cult thing. I like to drop that into conversations. Or swearing unexpectedly – that still works on tyka.

Wow, I’m not really all that shocking, come to think of it. I’ve just shattered my own perceptions of myself. A big day and it’s not even 10 o’clock yet. But really, I swear, I do laugh at all the wrong times! That’s still true!

Sorry, this is getting excessive. I need to find more to say before I sit down and avoid these puny posts.

But I have to say, there was no mail. Which is possibly sadder than an official no mail day. Because on the no mail day, you can’t get your hopes up. But today, I did. And I was let down. Possibly I should reply to the letters sitting on my desk.

Which brings up another point: guilt. The guilt I feel over telling people I have a blog but not responding to their emails. Do you feel unloved? Berate me. Do.

Tonight’s was a multi-course dinner. First there was some sliced mozzerella and tomatoes. Then some chicken was introduced, along with bread from Grand Central. Currently some pototaes are being mashed. I might also have a little salad. Wanna come over? You might make it in time for dessert. Or tea – we’ll always have tea, day or night.

February 2005

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