I was diagnosed with Celiac a few weeks ago.
This means I can never have gluten again.
Gluten is in many of my favorite things: macaroni and cheese, pasta alfredo, beer, raisin bran, crunchy oat flake cereal, Twix, pizza, etc.
Actually... I can have those things, I'll just have diarrhea all my life, never absorb nutrients, have unhealthy bones and blood, and eventually die of stomach cancer. But I won't die IMMEDIATELY. Indeed, if I take my grandfather's route, I won't die of stomach cancer until well after my 85th birthday!
But I'm going to try to be gluten-free anyway. From what I understand, it will cure my neuropathy (I get really crazy itchy after showers or salt scrubs or shaving), my anemia, and some of my attention span problems. Plus my stomach will be really happy with me.
I've started grocery shopping as a gluten-free person, and it's a giant pain in the ass. But great strides have been made in food production and I can get bread and pasta and cereal at my local grocery stores, which is way better than those before me had it. Really, I can survive just fine at home - aside from baking.
Yes, there's the real problem.
I bake when I'm stressed out, and also when I'm feeling good. I'm often one or the other. I've gotten a few gluten-free baking cook books - the best one is from Babycakes, a bakery in NYC. But they call for bizarre ingredients, some of which I haven't been able to find. (Potato starch? Seriously? Even the people at Whole Foods don't know what that is.) Most of the breads I've tried so far have been for shit - it's like eating a loaf of sand mixed with cardboard that crumbles if you look at it wrong - so I'm going to start baking my own, and testing recipes. I've found two good cupcake recipes so far, and I'm going to try a new one (with pumpkin!) in the next few days.
Tonight I tried out chicken and dumplings, because I was craving it hardcore. The dumplings were fine, if a bit dense, but the broth was all wrong. I suspect the issue was how long I cooked the chicken, which is to say, not long enough. Not enough simmering. I know you're all shocked that I tried to hurry something along. Tomorrow I'm going to try chicken noodle soup.
Anyway - the real issue is eating out, or at parties, or at weddings. Gluten is in pretty much everything, and people have no idea. Not that I blame them at all - I had no idea. But recently I was at Sonic, and I was horrified to find that the only thing left on the menu for me to eat is tater tots. And that's only because I'm not so sensitive that I can't eat things that were fried in oil that also fried battered things. (some people would be sick for days, just from that) So it's all large tater tots and cherry Limeaids for me. Not that that's a particularly bleak future.
I'll update more as I learn more. I'm still phasing gluten out of my diet and out of my pantry.
Velveeta Mac and Cheese, I've always loved you. And I'm going to miss you terribly.
Same goes for you, dark German beer.
P.S. - there are other things going on in my life, too. I'll think them over and update more soon.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Thinking about bed
Going to bed is one of my favorite parts of the day. Sometimes it's the best thing that happens all day.
My bed is very important to me, and very carefully designed around my preferences - and no one else's, because I'm very selfish. And also because no one else tends to be sleeping in the bed. More on that later. Here's a detailed description:
The bed itself was made by my greatgreatuncle, or some variation on that theme, in upstate New York. It's clearly handmade, and most of it was turned on a lathe. I had to drill new holes into it so that a modern mattress would fit it, because it was made before mattress standardization. On the bed frame sits a boxspring and a mattress, both full size. While I can appreciate a giant bed, I prefer full size beds - better for snuggling. More on that later. On top of the mattress is a down mattress pad. On top of that are usually jersey sheets, although I have a set of flannel for the winter time. I HATE flat sheets, as I find they lead to getting tangled up and frustrated, so I don't use them. Next comes my down duvet, which I'm thinking of replacing with a thicker one. (Not that I need a thick one, living in warm climates...it's just a puffy-ness issue) And finally - the pillows. I have a least three - two puffy and one flat. The flat one always has the blue pillowcase with the stars on it. There's also a body pillow against the wall, although I'm thinking of retiring it. Sometimes there's one of the quilts I've made on there, too.
And now, the pitiful parts.
When I was a freshman in college, a friend gave me a giant stuffed sheep (Sheepy), and I'm ashamed to say he's still in the bed. When I was a senior, I started having recurring nightmares about aligators (which I still have, sometimes), so my boyfriend at the time gave me a giant stuffed aligator, and now I can't sleep without it. Finally, there's usually a small black terrier sleeping on my toes, which is actually really handy, because they get cold.
The problem is this: even with all of this nonsense in my bed, I still like it best when there's another person. Preferably a warm boy. I don't know how the boys ever manage to fit in there, but I guess they find room somehow.
The real problem with being between relatioships is that suddenly there's no one else in my bed. (well that, and the lack of sex) This is why I sometimes consider hiring someone to sleep in my bed. I've had this conversation with many people, but I've never figured out how much I'd have to pay. Basically, I want a man to sleep in the bed, take care of scary noises, kill the occasional spider, and snuggle. That's about it. I'm not even talking about sex. (this is where most men tune out) There's a minor issue with the snuggling part, though: I've been told I'm a very aggressive snuggler. I'll snuggle somebody right to the edge of the bed if they don't stop me. I've actually snuggled men off the bed before. It's a problem.
And now you know more than you ever needed to know about my bed. It's late, so I guess I'll go get in it.
My bed is very important to me, and very carefully designed around my preferences - and no one else's, because I'm very selfish. And also because no one else tends to be sleeping in the bed. More on that later. Here's a detailed description:
The bed itself was made by my greatgreatuncle, or some variation on that theme, in upstate New York. It's clearly handmade, and most of it was turned on a lathe. I had to drill new holes into it so that a modern mattress would fit it, because it was made before mattress standardization. On the bed frame sits a boxspring and a mattress, both full size. While I can appreciate a giant bed, I prefer full size beds - better for snuggling. More on that later. On top of the mattress is a down mattress pad. On top of that are usually jersey sheets, although I have a set of flannel for the winter time. I HATE flat sheets, as I find they lead to getting tangled up and frustrated, so I don't use them. Next comes my down duvet, which I'm thinking of replacing with a thicker one. (Not that I need a thick one, living in warm climates...it's just a puffy-ness issue) And finally - the pillows. I have a least three - two puffy and one flat. The flat one always has the blue pillowcase with the stars on it. There's also a body pillow against the wall, although I'm thinking of retiring it. Sometimes there's one of the quilts I've made on there, too.
And now, the pitiful parts.
When I was a freshman in college, a friend gave me a giant stuffed sheep (Sheepy), and I'm ashamed to say he's still in the bed. When I was a senior, I started having recurring nightmares about aligators (which I still have, sometimes), so my boyfriend at the time gave me a giant stuffed aligator, and now I can't sleep without it. Finally, there's usually a small black terrier sleeping on my toes, which is actually really handy, because they get cold.
The problem is this: even with all of this nonsense in my bed, I still like it best when there's another person. Preferably a warm boy. I don't know how the boys ever manage to fit in there, but I guess they find room somehow.
The real problem with being between relatioships is that suddenly there's no one else in my bed. (well that, and the lack of sex) This is why I sometimes consider hiring someone to sleep in my bed. I've had this conversation with many people, but I've never figured out how much I'd have to pay. Basically, I want a man to sleep in the bed, take care of scary noises, kill the occasional spider, and snuggle. That's about it. I'm not even talking about sex. (this is where most men tune out) There's a minor issue with the snuggling part, though: I've been told I'm a very aggressive snuggler. I'll snuggle somebody right to the edge of the bed if they don't stop me. I've actually snuggled men off the bed before. It's a problem.
And now you know more than you ever needed to know about my bed. It's late, so I guess I'll go get in it.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The move, continued
So then I had a week before classes started.
I was exhausted and grumpy and really grateful to be left alone.
I spent most of the week eating Lucky Charms, reading Harry Potter, and sleeping. (excellent alone time activities)
I figured out how to ride MARTA and where the closest stations were. Then, after much research, I found the closest bus to my house (4 blocks away) and how often it runs (once an hour, which sucks).
I found the campus, the sociology department, and the bookstore. I signed all the official documents to become an employee of the school.
And I hung out with Katie and Nick a lot.
Coming up soon: further adventures in ATL and the first two weeks of class.
(right now I have to go read for class tomorrow)
I was exhausted and grumpy and really grateful to be left alone.
I spent most of the week eating Lucky Charms, reading Harry Potter, and sleeping. (excellent alone time activities)
I figured out how to ride MARTA and where the closest stations were. Then, after much research, I found the closest bus to my house (4 blocks away) and how often it runs (once an hour, which sucks).
I found the campus, the sociology department, and the bookstore. I signed all the official documents to become an employee of the school.
And I hung out with Katie and Nick a lot.
Coming up soon: further adventures in ATL and the first two weeks of class.
(right now I have to go read for class tomorrow)
Thursday, August 20, 2009
The ATL
I've been in Atlanta for a week and a half and haven't posted yet. I apologize to anyone who may have been waiting for an update. I didn't post because I STILL don't have internet.
Getting internet in my apartment has been the battle I never expected. Everyone wanted to set an install date two weeks away, or else had phantom bounced checks on my account (if my bank can't find it and I can't find it... it doesn't exist) or else their wireless couldn't function in my tiny half-underground apartment. My walls are two feet thick. I like that. Wireless networks do not. Tomorrow I should finally achieve internet, with the help of the slowest and most expensive provider around.
So anyway. Atlanta.
Two weeks ago the moving started. My dad brought a moving truck home and we loaded everything I had at my parents' house into it. This included a couch that looked like it was going to be physically impossible to move. That part made me nervous. The next day we drove to Knoxville to get even more stuff. First we went to the POD, where Jessica and her dad were already unloading. Jessica and I put our shit in the POD last July and haven't seen it since - opening it was kind of like Christmas. There were things in there that I had forgotten I owned.
And then it was time for the scary part.
In Knoxville, I'd been living in a loft in the very heart of downtown. The loft was up two sets of stairs, and my furniture was up another set of spiral stairs within the loft. Getting it in was bad enough - it took myself, three strong men, and a lot of swearing. Getting it back down was made much easier with the aid of two of my favorite boys from the Grotto: Pet Barback and Tony. Thank god for them. There were a few moments when I thought either my furniture or one of the boys was going to die, but it worked. After living here for a few days I remembered the stuff I left in Knoxville: a microwave, my nightlights (don't laugh), and a wireless router. D'oh.
My dad and I stayed in a hotel outside of Atlanta that night, and on Saturday it was time to move in. Moving in is always better than moving out.
My new apartment is a hole. Seriously - it's half underground and it's about 400 square feet. But I love it so much. It's in the greatest neighborhood and it's part of this really amazing building from the 1920's. It's small, but it's as much space as I need, and I knew my furniture would mostly fit. Plus, it's about all I could afford in this town. And I can barely afford it.
Cousin Zach, the DePalmas, my dad, and I unloaded the truck pretty quickly. (Cousin Jason showed up right when everything was unloaded...suspicious...) (and yet so clever) The couch was a major disastor all over again. Katie and I watched and tried to make thoughtful and supportive faces while her engineer husband helped make a plan for forcing it around corners. Then we all went to lunch at Mary Mac's, which was brilliant.
And that's about as much update as I feel like doing. We've gotten to moving in, and I'll update more later.
Getting internet in my apartment has been the battle I never expected. Everyone wanted to set an install date two weeks away, or else had phantom bounced checks on my account (if my bank can't find it and I can't find it... it doesn't exist) or else their wireless couldn't function in my tiny half-underground apartment. My walls are two feet thick. I like that. Wireless networks do not. Tomorrow I should finally achieve internet, with the help of the slowest and most expensive provider around.
So anyway. Atlanta.
Two weeks ago the moving started. My dad brought a moving truck home and we loaded everything I had at my parents' house into it. This included a couch that looked like it was going to be physically impossible to move. That part made me nervous. The next day we drove to Knoxville to get even more stuff. First we went to the POD, where Jessica and her dad were already unloading. Jessica and I put our shit in the POD last July and haven't seen it since - opening it was kind of like Christmas. There were things in there that I had forgotten I owned.
And then it was time for the scary part.
In Knoxville, I'd been living in a loft in the very heart of downtown. The loft was up two sets of stairs, and my furniture was up another set of spiral stairs within the loft. Getting it in was bad enough - it took myself, three strong men, and a lot of swearing. Getting it back down was made much easier with the aid of two of my favorite boys from the Grotto: Pet Barback and Tony. Thank god for them. There were a few moments when I thought either my furniture or one of the boys was going to die, but it worked. After living here for a few days I remembered the stuff I left in Knoxville: a microwave, my nightlights (don't laugh), and a wireless router. D'oh.
My dad and I stayed in a hotel outside of Atlanta that night, and on Saturday it was time to move in. Moving in is always better than moving out.
My new apartment is a hole. Seriously - it's half underground and it's about 400 square feet. But I love it so much. It's in the greatest neighborhood and it's part of this really amazing building from the 1920's. It's small, but it's as much space as I need, and I knew my furniture would mostly fit. Plus, it's about all I could afford in this town. And I can barely afford it.
Cousin Zach, the DePalmas, my dad, and I unloaded the truck pretty quickly. (Cousin Jason showed up right when everything was unloaded...suspicious...) (and yet so clever) The couch was a major disastor all over again. Katie and I watched and tried to make thoughtful and supportive faces while her engineer husband helped make a plan for forcing it around corners. Then we all went to lunch at Mary Mac's, which was brilliant.
And that's about as much update as I feel like doing. We've gotten to moving in, and I'll update more later.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Look out, armadillos
I spent the last few days in a place called Dadeville that has two very important things in common with hell: there is no internet connection and there is no real coffee.
On the other hand, there are fried things. I ate a whole meal composed of fried okra, fried shrimp, fried crawfish, fried alligator, and sweet tea. In retrospect, I should have had the tea fried. Oh, and there are armadillos, which are pretty cute. But that's about all I can say for Dadeville.
I went with my parents because my grandfather was holding a golf tournament for his 85th birthday. The tournament only consisted of men from my extended family, but it was pretty hotly contested, from what I hear. The weekend was both good and bad. I hardly ever see members of my mother's family, so it was nice to see my cousins. I'm about to live near three of them for the first time, so it was good to reconnect with them.
On the other hand, there was my grandfather.
My mother's father has never particularly liked my siblings and I. Not only did none of us play football, we all inexplicably failed to go to Auburn. And then we didn't become conservative Republicans. And we aren't good Christians. So! Basically he has nothing to say to us. I mean, it's not like he's mean, he's just completely baffled by the lot of us and has never bothered to take an interest in anything we might be doing.
Lately he's taken on two hobbies that I found extra disturbing. The first one is making loud disparaging remarks about anyone who happens to be nearby (neighbors, servers, cash register attendants, family members, etc) and the other is killing small animals. He shoots any squirrels that try to eat from his birdfeeder and any armadillos that come into his yard. Actually, he doesn't get the armadillos much, because they come out and night and he doesn't like to stay up anymore. But his most recent wife (from whom he is separated) likes to shoot them from her deck, and he tried to get my dad to run over one that we saw on the road.
But none of this compared to the bizarre speech he made on the occassion of his birthday dinner. It was sort of a telling of his life story, but with interesting additions and omissions. Most of the speech focused on how much he loves football, his oldest son, and his deceased first wife. He spent a lot of time on how talented his oldest son is, made some half-assed remarks about his other son being technically proficient, and left out my mother entirely. Seriously. Never mentioned her. He also failed to mention his second wife but did include an imaginary relationship with a Broadway star. It was seriously weird. It made me wonder if some day I'll tell a heavily revised version of my own life story that includes embarassing details about other people.
So that was upsetting.
But I suppose there were some good parts of the weekend. I've always been afraid of babies, but my cousin Abby has two that seem pretty cool. I even took one of them in the pool, and not only did he not break, but he seemed downright tough. He's at a phase in his life where he enjoys hitting, throwing, and splashing - or is that a phase? Maybe he's just a boy and that's a life-long thing.
In other news:
Before I left, I spend a delightful evening with someone else's husband. Thanks for the loan, Val. (Why oh why isn't there another Kelly brother for me?)
Right now my parents are keeping the neighbors' dogs, which means we have a whole house full of terriers. I love it. Lots of chaos and barking and snuggling.
I made the mistake of looking at expensive handbags, and now I'm getting a little lustfull for a Coach Addison briefcase.
I'm approaching finishing my brother's wedding present.
Almost time to move!
On the other hand, there are fried things. I ate a whole meal composed of fried okra, fried shrimp, fried crawfish, fried alligator, and sweet tea. In retrospect, I should have had the tea fried. Oh, and there are armadillos, which are pretty cute. But that's about all I can say for Dadeville.
I went with my parents because my grandfather was holding a golf tournament for his 85th birthday. The tournament only consisted of men from my extended family, but it was pretty hotly contested, from what I hear. The weekend was both good and bad. I hardly ever see members of my mother's family, so it was nice to see my cousins. I'm about to live near three of them for the first time, so it was good to reconnect with them.
On the other hand, there was my grandfather.
My mother's father has never particularly liked my siblings and I. Not only did none of us play football, we all inexplicably failed to go to Auburn. And then we didn't become conservative Republicans. And we aren't good Christians. So! Basically he has nothing to say to us. I mean, it's not like he's mean, he's just completely baffled by the lot of us and has never bothered to take an interest in anything we might be doing.
Lately he's taken on two hobbies that I found extra disturbing. The first one is making loud disparaging remarks about anyone who happens to be nearby (neighbors, servers, cash register attendants, family members, etc) and the other is killing small animals. He shoots any squirrels that try to eat from his birdfeeder and any armadillos that come into his yard. Actually, he doesn't get the armadillos much, because they come out and night and he doesn't like to stay up anymore. But his most recent wife (from whom he is separated) likes to shoot them from her deck, and he tried to get my dad to run over one that we saw on the road.
But none of this compared to the bizarre speech he made on the occassion of his birthday dinner. It was sort of a telling of his life story, but with interesting additions and omissions. Most of the speech focused on how much he loves football, his oldest son, and his deceased first wife. He spent a lot of time on how talented his oldest son is, made some half-assed remarks about his other son being technically proficient, and left out my mother entirely. Seriously. Never mentioned her. He also failed to mention his second wife but did include an imaginary relationship with a Broadway star. It was seriously weird. It made me wonder if some day I'll tell a heavily revised version of my own life story that includes embarassing details about other people.
So that was upsetting.
But I suppose there were some good parts of the weekend. I've always been afraid of babies, but my cousin Abby has two that seem pretty cool. I even took one of them in the pool, and not only did he not break, but he seemed downright tough. He's at a phase in his life where he enjoys hitting, throwing, and splashing - or is that a phase? Maybe he's just a boy and that's a life-long thing.
In other news:
Before I left, I spend a delightful evening with someone else's husband. Thanks for the loan, Val. (Why oh why isn't there another Kelly brother for me?)
Right now my parents are keeping the neighbors' dogs, which means we have a whole house full of terriers. I love it. Lots of chaos and barking and snuggling.
I made the mistake of looking at expensive handbags, and now I'm getting a little lustfull for a Coach Addison briefcase.
I'm approaching finishing my brother's wedding present.
Almost time to move!
Friday, July 10, 2009
In which Dorothy and Toto abscond to an island
I had a pretty big week.
I went on my first solo road trip.
I went on my first solo vacation.
I found and signed a lease on an apartment.
I mastered docking the boat all by myself.
Toto had a big week, too. He learned about riding on boats, jumping through marsh, rolling in the sand, how not to eat crabs that are still alive and pinching you, and that waves are dangerous. Here's a video of his new hobby:
So here's the long version of what I did all week: I drove to Atlanta Friday morning, looked at the apartments Friday afternoon, and signed a lease. I love my new apartment. It's in a brick building from the 1920's, and it's a tiny tiny hole. Seriously. I stayed with Katie and Nick, who were very sweet about showing me around. We went to little 5 Points and on a mini driving tour of downtown Atlanta. Plus our dogs got along really well. I'm looking forward to living right next to them.
On Saturday I drove to Charleston (specifically, to my uncle's island house which can only be reached by boat), and spent the 4th of July on an island, just like in the Band of Horses song. I climbed up on the roof of the gazebo with Phineas and I could see three different fireworks displays - it was amazing. And also kind of sensory-overload, because I could never decide where to look.
I spent several days by myself on the island, which I think is the farthest away I've ever been from other humans for an extended period of time. I really liked it. I did some fishing and some crabbing and some pointless cruising around in the boat. And then I got sick and spent some time sleeping and puking and sleeping and puking. But still! A nice place for it.
Then I drove home, stopping in Knoxville over night. I had a nice dinner with Mike, drinks with Kaitlin and company, and even got to stop by the Grotto. I really missed getting petted on by my pet barback. And any night spent laughing with Jamie and Palm is a good one.
I'm back home now, and I think I've finally washed all the sand off me. Time to get back to normal life.
I went on my first solo road trip.
I went on my first solo vacation.
I found and signed a lease on an apartment.
I mastered docking the boat all by myself.
Toto had a big week, too. He learned about riding on boats, jumping through marsh, rolling in the sand, how not to eat crabs that are still alive and pinching you, and that waves are dangerous. Here's a video of his new hobby:
So here's the long version of what I did all week: I drove to Atlanta Friday morning, looked at the apartments Friday afternoon, and signed a lease. I love my new apartment. It's in a brick building from the 1920's, and it's a tiny tiny hole. Seriously. I stayed with Katie and Nick, who were very sweet about showing me around. We went to little 5 Points and on a mini driving tour of downtown Atlanta. Plus our dogs got along really well. I'm looking forward to living right next to them.
On Saturday I drove to Charleston (specifically, to my uncle's island house which can only be reached by boat), and spent the 4th of July on an island, just like in the Band of Horses song. I climbed up on the roof of the gazebo with Phineas and I could see three different fireworks displays - it was amazing. And also kind of sensory-overload, because I could never decide where to look.
I spent several days by myself on the island, which I think is the farthest away I've ever been from other humans for an extended period of time. I really liked it. I did some fishing and some crabbing and some pointless cruising around in the boat. And then I got sick and spent some time sleeping and puking and sleeping and puking. But still! A nice place for it.
Then I drove home, stopping in Knoxville over night. I had a nice dinner with Mike, drinks with Kaitlin and company, and even got to stop by the Grotto. I really missed getting petted on by my pet barback. And any night spent laughing with Jamie and Palm is a good one.
I'm back home now, and I think I've finally washed all the sand off me. Time to get back to normal life.
Monday, June 29, 2009
A couple of pictures
Ok - I stole a couple of pictures from Ryan and from Anna.
Monica and the Irish boys - Adam and Karl, respectively.
Erika in her stunning dress and awesome hair.
Erika and Timmy at the altar, promising to love each other and stuff.
Jessica, me, and Kaitlin, watching proudly.
And my kickass dress and curly hair.
Monica and the Irish boys - Adam and Karl, respectively.
Erika in her stunning dress and awesome hair.
Erika and Timmy at the altar, promising to love each other and stuff.
Jessica, me, and Kaitlin, watching proudly.
And my kickass dress and curly hair.
Wonderful Week
Hello loyal reader(s)
I've had a fucking fantastic week, and I'd like to tell you all about it.
On Monday morning I was sitting at my parents' kitchen table, eating a banana and doing something really idiotic like looking at lolcats, when I realized I had an email. I started reading it and gasped, which scared my parents, who were in the room because there is no privacy around here. The email said that they had awarded me a full graduate assistantship! With paid tuition, a stipend, health insurance, and rainbows and unicorns and guaranteed happiness. I believe they'll even provide a boyfriend. I still can't believe how wonderful this is. I was worried for a while that I had no future, but now I have the best possible future.
So I'll be moving to the ATL in August. I'm currently apartment hunting (with the help of the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. DePalma) and trying to figure out when to go see the apartments in person.
This means that for the month of July I'm remaining a giant free-loader and traveler. I don't know precisely what this month holds - I had planned on being in Charleston for a few weeks, but I need to go to Atlanta, too. And at the end of the month I'll be in Denver. So...yeah. If you need me, call me, I'll probably be in America.
So anyway. That was Monday morning, and on Monday night the Irish arrived. This whole week I got to host two handsome and charming Irish men, which was pretty much like having drunk pets. They weren't interested in making their own decisions or being any trouble, so no matter what I suggested, they were totally down. I kept trying to come up with hilarious southern things to do, which mostly involved eating. We had grits, fried chicken, chicken and dumplings, pecan pie, Mexican food, biscuits, and iced tea. We saw the General Lee, went to a Civil War site, canoed down the Harpeth, sat on porches and drank, had a cookout, and went to two different malls. It was, to borrow their term, fucking savage.
They were in town because Erika got married this weekend. They used to live in the same apartment in Galway, where Erika was studying abroad. Anyway. Erika had her ceremony in Bon Aqua, which was roughly an hour from everything. Seriously - no matter where you started, you had a journey ahead of you. But it was beautiful out there - especially after we finished decorating according to Erika's standards. She did virtually everything herself - the invitations, the place cards, the menus, our hair decorations, the place settings, the table decorations, the jewelry she gave us bridesmaids for presents, etc. - and it was all amazing. I can't even imagine how she did it.
The ceremony was beautiful, the reception was fun, and the afterparty was drunken. I'm pretty sure that's all you can ask from a wedding. Oh, and I got to spend some quality time with a very funny and charming man. Oh, and my dress was dead sexy and my hair was flapper-inspired. I'll try to remember to post pictures soon.
Everyone left town today, and I guess I'll go back to being lonely. I'll need a least a few days to recover from a long week of partying, but damn - what a good week.
I've had a fucking fantastic week, and I'd like to tell you all about it.
On Monday morning I was sitting at my parents' kitchen table, eating a banana and doing something really idiotic like looking at lolcats, when I realized I had an email. I started reading it and gasped, which scared my parents, who were in the room because there is no privacy around here. The email said that they had awarded me a full graduate assistantship! With paid tuition, a stipend, health insurance, and rainbows and unicorns and guaranteed happiness. I believe they'll even provide a boyfriend. I still can't believe how wonderful this is. I was worried for a while that I had no future, but now I have the best possible future.
So I'll be moving to the ATL in August. I'm currently apartment hunting (with the help of the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. DePalma) and trying to figure out when to go see the apartments in person.
This means that for the month of July I'm remaining a giant free-loader and traveler. I don't know precisely what this month holds - I had planned on being in Charleston for a few weeks, but I need to go to Atlanta, too. And at the end of the month I'll be in Denver. So...yeah. If you need me, call me, I'll probably be in America.
So anyway. That was Monday morning, and on Monday night the Irish arrived. This whole week I got to host two handsome and charming Irish men, which was pretty much like having drunk pets. They weren't interested in making their own decisions or being any trouble, so no matter what I suggested, they were totally down. I kept trying to come up with hilarious southern things to do, which mostly involved eating. We had grits, fried chicken, chicken and dumplings, pecan pie, Mexican food, biscuits, and iced tea. We saw the General Lee, went to a Civil War site, canoed down the Harpeth, sat on porches and drank, had a cookout, and went to two different malls. It was, to borrow their term, fucking savage.
They were in town because Erika got married this weekend. They used to live in the same apartment in Galway, where Erika was studying abroad. Anyway. Erika had her ceremony in Bon Aqua, which was roughly an hour from everything. Seriously - no matter where you started, you had a journey ahead of you. But it was beautiful out there - especially after we finished decorating according to Erika's standards. She did virtually everything herself - the invitations, the place cards, the menus, our hair decorations, the place settings, the table decorations, the jewelry she gave us bridesmaids for presents, etc. - and it was all amazing. I can't even imagine how she did it.
The ceremony was beautiful, the reception was fun, and the afterparty was drunken. I'm pretty sure that's all you can ask from a wedding. Oh, and I got to spend some quality time with a very funny and charming man. Oh, and my dress was dead sexy and my hair was flapper-inspired. I'll try to remember to post pictures soon.
Everyone left town today, and I guess I'll go back to being lonely. I'll need a least a few days to recover from a long week of partying, but damn - what a good week.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
And then camel camel just laid down
Last week my parents got tired of me moping around the house and decided to send me to Phoenix with to see my brother. Essentially my dad said "Hey, do you want to go to Phoenix and stay in a luxury resort?" and I said "Yeah, I'm not busy".
So here I am, at the Camelback Inn. Yesterday I spent the whole day at the pool, gazing up at the mountain and being waited on by incessantly cheerful and tan young men. They seemed so eager to do something that I took to asking them whatever I happened to be thinking about at the time - things like "where can I get some Fritos" (tragically: no where) and "how onion-heavy is the salsa, on a scale of one to ten". They seemed REALLY happy to find answers for me. Like house elfs. (I've been reading Harry Potter again). Today I'm going to meet my brother's fiance's parents and then we're going to work on a new recipe for homebrewing.
Arizona creeps me out. Everything that's not brown is a slightly lighter shade of brown. There's no trees, and no water. Phoenix is very flat, and then there are big jagged mountains encircling it, but the mountains don't have any trees or shrubs. I do, however, like the cacti. I really like them. I keep stopping to examine different ones and physically restraining myself from touching them. I can't believe there are so many kinds. In my mind, cacti only exist as joke props for Wiley Coyote to land on, so seeing them just casually hanging out next to the sidewalk, as if they were some sort of normal plant, is really surprising. I also like Camelback Mountain itself, because it also looks unnatural.
What you can see in this picture (taken from my porch) is his hump and the back of his head. For a long time I thought he had two humps and a big rock at the front was his head, but it turns out he's a dromedary camel and the hump on the right is his giant head. It's like he just laid down to take a nap and turned into stone. I like looking at the Camelback at random times during the day to see if it's changed. It's best at sunset because it turns all red.
So anyway. While I do enjoy the lap of luxury (seriously, they make the beds while you're not looking and then come back and turn them down and then come back and make them), I'll be glad to get back to trees and river and especially the baby Phineas. Walking in the front door and not being greeted is not as much fun.
Time to go check on the mountain and do some high-quality reading of crime novels. Until next time, loyal readers.
So here I am, at the Camelback Inn. Yesterday I spent the whole day at the pool, gazing up at the mountain and being waited on by incessantly cheerful and tan young men. They seemed so eager to do something that I took to asking them whatever I happened to be thinking about at the time - things like "where can I get some Fritos" (tragically: no where) and "how onion-heavy is the salsa, on a scale of one to ten". They seemed REALLY happy to find answers for me. Like house elfs. (I've been reading Harry Potter again). Today I'm going to meet my brother's fiance's parents and then we're going to work on a new recipe for homebrewing.
Arizona creeps me out. Everything that's not brown is a slightly lighter shade of brown. There's no trees, and no water. Phoenix is very flat, and then there are big jagged mountains encircling it, but the mountains don't have any trees or shrubs. I do, however, like the cacti. I really like them. I keep stopping to examine different ones and physically restraining myself from touching them. I can't believe there are so many kinds. In my mind, cacti only exist as joke props for Wiley Coyote to land on, so seeing them just casually hanging out next to the sidewalk, as if they were some sort of normal plant, is really surprising. I also like Camelback Mountain itself, because it also looks unnatural.
What you can see in this picture (taken from my porch) is his hump and the back of his head. For a long time I thought he had two humps and a big rock at the front was his head, but it turns out he's a dromedary camel and the hump on the right is his giant head. It's like he just laid down to take a nap and turned into stone. I like looking at the Camelback at random times during the day to see if it's changed. It's best at sunset because it turns all red.
So anyway. While I do enjoy the lap of luxury (seriously, they make the beds while you're not looking and then come back and turn them down and then come back and make them), I'll be glad to get back to trees and river and especially the baby Phineas. Walking in the front door and not being greeted is not as much fun.
Time to go check on the mountain and do some high-quality reading of crime novels. Until next time, loyal readers.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Moments of authenticity
Earlier today I was striding through the airport, dodging all the slow people and whizzing past the confused ones, and I thought about how much I love airports. And especially how much I love walking through airports in a purposeful manner while dragging my rolling suitcase and carrying my tote. It's even better if I'm talking on the phone at the same time.
And this got me thinking about moments of authenticity in my own life. I feel alive and happy and purposeful in airports, but there are other moments in which I feel that I am totally myself. Such as walking to class, with a cup of coffee in my hand and my favorite vintage Coach briefcase slung over my shoulder. Or bringing a horse back into the barn after riding while teasing Phineas with my whip. Or standing knee deep in a river. Or reading on the porch (any porch) with a cup of coffee.
And now I'm wondering about your moments of authenticity, dear readers. Or possibly reader, singular. I don't have a fancy tracker to know if anyone reads this besides people who talk to me about it later.
Hmm. Someone just called me from what seems to be Roanoke, VA, but then didn't talk. Was that you, Julie?
Also - when did they start planting crops in circles? While flying over some otherwise boring parts of the country today I noticed that instead of the normal squares and rectangles, there were lots of circles.
Also - how much do I wish I could stick my head out the window of an airplane? THIS MUCH. Because I bonk my forehead on the window every time while trying to get a better view of whatever I'm looking at on the ground.
And this got me thinking about moments of authenticity in my own life. I feel alive and happy and purposeful in airports, but there are other moments in which I feel that I am totally myself. Such as walking to class, with a cup of coffee in my hand and my favorite vintage Coach briefcase slung over my shoulder. Or bringing a horse back into the barn after riding while teasing Phineas with my whip. Or standing knee deep in a river. Or reading on the porch (any porch) with a cup of coffee.
And now I'm wondering about your moments of authenticity, dear readers. Or possibly reader, singular. I don't have a fancy tracker to know if anyone reads this besides people who talk to me about it later.
Hmm. Someone just called me from what seems to be Roanoke, VA, but then didn't talk. Was that you, Julie?
Also - when did they start planting crops in circles? While flying over some otherwise boring parts of the country today I noticed that instead of the normal squares and rectangles, there were lots of circles.
Also - how much do I wish I could stick my head out the window of an airplane? THIS MUCH. Because I bonk my forehead on the window every time while trying to get a better view of whatever I'm looking at on the ground.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
In which Dorothy and Toto go on the lam
My facebook status says "Goodbye, Knoxville" because today I moved out.
I left my Market Square apartment, I quit my job, I said good bye to a few key people, and I skipped town. I left like a thief in the ... mid-morning. Which is pretty much the middle of the night to most people I know, anyway. If I'd tried to leave at midnight, I would have seen everyone I know on the way out.
I left for several reasons. I was going to go at the end of June anyway, because I was just waiting for Sundown (read as: the Sundown money) to be over. But work had gotten progressively more lame and non-profitable because no shows are being booked because the owner has given up on the place and run all the managers off. Last Friday I made $18. $18. On a Friday night. At a bar.
And then, last weekend, my dog bit someone. He's an asshole, he's always trying to bite people, but this time he actually managed to - which was entirely my fault and for which I feel incredibly guilty. The person he bit stated repeatedly that she didn't want to press charges, but just in case, I thought Phin better go into hiding. His location is currently undisclosed.
In addition to all that, I got into the PhD program I wanted the most! I'm headed to the ATL. Coming on the heels of all the other changes, I haven't had time to relish that and celebrate.
So I was done with Knoxville. I'll miss it, but it was time.
Goodbye, Knoxville.
I left my Market Square apartment, I quit my job, I said good bye to a few key people, and I skipped town. I left like a thief in the ... mid-morning. Which is pretty much the middle of the night to most people I know, anyway. If I'd tried to leave at midnight, I would have seen everyone I know on the way out.
I left for several reasons. I was going to go at the end of June anyway, because I was just waiting for Sundown (read as: the Sundown money) to be over. But work had gotten progressively more lame and non-profitable because no shows are being booked because the owner has given up on the place and run all the managers off. Last Friday I made $18. $18. On a Friday night. At a bar.
And then, last weekend, my dog bit someone. He's an asshole, he's always trying to bite people, but this time he actually managed to - which was entirely my fault and for which I feel incredibly guilty. The person he bit stated repeatedly that she didn't want to press charges, but just in case, I thought Phin better go into hiding. His location is currently undisclosed.
In addition to all that, I got into the PhD program I wanted the most! I'm headed to the ATL. Coming on the heels of all the other changes, I haven't had time to relish that and celebrate.
So I was done with Knoxville. I'll miss it, but it was time.
Goodbye, Knoxville.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Little Women
I've been re-reading the book Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott, which was a favorite of mine when I was younger. I found it in my bedroom at my parents' house and thought to myself "hey, I loved this book, I should re-read it".
That was a mistake.
What a sanctimonious pile of bullshit this book has turned out to be, upon further (and admittedly, more feminist) reflection. The 4 main characters (all sisters) are continuously taught that the mark of a good person is one who never considers her own needs, but rather lives quietly and humbly and without desire. Granted, promoting the welfare of others and loving your neighbor and living within one's means are all excellent ideals toward which we should all strive. But every time one of the girls has a thought towards something she wants personally or a life outside of a heterosexual marriage that produces children, she is shamed by the others.
The most pious character, for god's sake, is so meek and loving that she's afraid to leave her home or speak to strangers, and eventually she dies of downright sickliness. And she's the gold standard to which they all strive! A woman who wants nothing but to live silently at home and serve her family is the model citizen.
Jo, the rambunctious one, is constantly criticized for enjoying exercise and speaking frankly. Her slight temper and outspoken honesty are major character flaws, in the opinion of her sisters and mother. She writes "little stories" which bring her great happiness and even a measure of financial independence - so guess what happens in the end? That's right, she gives up all of that to live quietly as the matron in a house run by her husband and filled with their children. WHICH BRINGS HER TRUE HAPPINESS. Not her writing - her duties.
Ok. I'm not saying that happiness can't be found in a family, in a husband, in children, or in service to others. But can we agree that there are multiple paths to happiness? I get that this novel was written in a time where women were taught that their own hetero marriage and household was pretty much all they could hope for, but how can this author be excused for exhaulting a sickly child and repressing a vibrant woman?
Oh, and even the "vain" one isn't allowed to find happiness until she stops having personality and turns to silently grieving the death of the meek one full time. At that point, and only at that point, does another character decide he loves her.
End lecture.
That was a mistake.
What a sanctimonious pile of bullshit this book has turned out to be, upon further (and admittedly, more feminist) reflection. The 4 main characters (all sisters) are continuously taught that the mark of a good person is one who never considers her own needs, but rather lives quietly and humbly and without desire. Granted, promoting the welfare of others and loving your neighbor and living within one's means are all excellent ideals toward which we should all strive. But every time one of the girls has a thought towards something she wants personally or a life outside of a heterosexual marriage that produces children, she is shamed by the others.
The most pious character, for god's sake, is so meek and loving that she's afraid to leave her home or speak to strangers, and eventually she dies of downright sickliness. And she's the gold standard to which they all strive! A woman who wants nothing but to live silently at home and serve her family is the model citizen.
Jo, the rambunctious one, is constantly criticized for enjoying exercise and speaking frankly. Her slight temper and outspoken honesty are major character flaws, in the opinion of her sisters and mother. She writes "little stories" which bring her great happiness and even a measure of financial independence - so guess what happens in the end? That's right, she gives up all of that to live quietly as the matron in a house run by her husband and filled with their children. WHICH BRINGS HER TRUE HAPPINESS. Not her writing - her duties.
Ok. I'm not saying that happiness can't be found in a family, in a husband, in children, or in service to others. But can we agree that there are multiple paths to happiness? I get that this novel was written in a time where women were taught that their own hetero marriage and household was pretty much all they could hope for, but how can this author be excused for exhaulting a sickly child and repressing a vibrant woman?
Oh, and even the "vain" one isn't allowed to find happiness until she stops having personality and turns to silently grieving the death of the meek one full time. At that point, and only at that point, does another character decide he loves her.
End lecture.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Limbo
I'm in limbo right now, waiting to hear back from GA State, and it's starting to get to me in a bad way. I can't make key decisions, like whether to fix the Volvo, when to leave town, which relationships to pursue and which to let go entirely, where to look for apartments, where to look for jobs, etc.
My job at the bar isn't going well because they've stopped scheduling and promoting shows, so there's not enough customers coming out which means there's not a lot of money to be made. I've been planing for some time to leave at the end of June, but the way it's going I could leave at any time without missing out on too much money.
I can't decide whether to keep pushing forward with energy or just hold really still until I find out what the future holds. I'm tempted to hibernate, although I know it's not good for me. But there's so little action I can take.
I'm stuck!
My job at the bar isn't going well because they've stopped scheduling and promoting shows, so there's not enough customers coming out which means there's not a lot of money to be made. I've been planing for some time to leave at the end of June, but the way it's going I could leave at any time without missing out on too much money.
I can't decide whether to keep pushing forward with energy or just hold really still until I find out what the future holds. I'm tempted to hibernate, although I know it's not good for me. But there's so little action I can take.
I'm stuck!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
I'm sitting on my parents' porch in Pleasantville (not the real name, but more accurate) with a cup of coffee and two dogs, watching the neighbors roll by in their fancypants golf carts. The perfect blond mothers are taking their perfect blond children somewhere. Perhaps to a play date. Phineas is not pleased, because he hates things that roll and make noise.
I'm at home because on Saturday my friend Katie married my other friend Nick. It was a really beautiful wedding, and it genuinely reflected the character and asthetic of the bride and groom. Or at least of the bride. I suppose I can't say for sure about the groom. But there was a candy buffet and lots of giggling during the ceremony and plenty of silly pictures. I was the HBIC (read as: Head Bitch in Charge) for the wedding, because that's the roll Katie asked me to play. I kind of enjoyed being a wedding coordinator. I don't think I'd want to do that kind of thing professionally, but I got the whole business off without a hitch. Most of that, mind you, was due to Katie's EXTREMELY detailed schedule and well thought out vision of how she wanted things to go. But my watch and I deserve some credit.
After the wedding I thought it best to change scenes entirely, so I went to a hiphop show. My friend Mike (MIKE PALM!) is the tour manager for 2Fresh, who are these adorable twins who play a really kickass show. So I went to that in my formal wear and felt totally out of place, but it was really fun. It was interesting to see how Mike and his friends live. On the one hand, they're professional musicians touring the country and making money, but on the other hand they're hanging out at house parties hosted by 18 year olds and trying to figure out what happens in the morning. It was like being in high school and being a post-college young adult at the same time.
Phineas just busted through the gate on the front porch in order to break out and attack a dog who was walking by. Why must he be such an asshole?
Anyway.
On Thursday night I worked Sundown but left early to start driving. Lots of people questioned my choice to start a road-trip at 3:30am, but I felt like it was the best idea ever. I haven't been as happy in a long time as I was when I got on the road. There's something really profoundly exhilirating to me about being on an open road with nothing but miles of interstate in front of you. I had a fast car, a loyal dog, loud music, and a giant cup of Mello Yello to keep me company, and I felt GOOD.
I had a fast car because I had to leave the Volvo at home. It's developed quite the oil leak, and the leak is worst while driving, which means the oil has spattered all over the undercarriage of the car. It's covering most of the bottom of the car and has essentially baked on there into a thick paste that's highly flamable. Basically, if I drive it at high speeds for a long amount of time, it could explode into a giant fiery ball of terror. Which, on the one hand, is AWESOME, but on the other hand is a little deadly, so I guess I'm going to have to fix that.
I'm sleepy. I had a really odd night last night, which I will not detail in an attempt to protect the vaguely innocent. But since it's my blog and not your blog I'll just say this: You are a very stupid man. And you should probably work on that. But regardless, I doubt I'll ever try you again.
I think I'll go hunt for the ingredients to make brownies for Cookie of the Week club.
I'm at home because on Saturday my friend Katie married my other friend Nick. It was a really beautiful wedding, and it genuinely reflected the character and asthetic of the bride and groom. Or at least of the bride. I suppose I can't say for sure about the groom. But there was a candy buffet and lots of giggling during the ceremony and plenty of silly pictures. I was the HBIC (read as: Head Bitch in Charge) for the wedding, because that's the roll Katie asked me to play. I kind of enjoyed being a wedding coordinator. I don't think I'd want to do that kind of thing professionally, but I got the whole business off without a hitch. Most of that, mind you, was due to Katie's EXTREMELY detailed schedule and well thought out vision of how she wanted things to go. But my watch and I deserve some credit.
After the wedding I thought it best to change scenes entirely, so I went to a hiphop show. My friend Mike (MIKE PALM!) is the tour manager for 2Fresh, who are these adorable twins who play a really kickass show. So I went to that in my formal wear and felt totally out of place, but it was really fun. It was interesting to see how Mike and his friends live. On the one hand, they're professional musicians touring the country and making money, but on the other hand they're hanging out at house parties hosted by 18 year olds and trying to figure out what happens in the morning. It was like being in high school and being a post-college young adult at the same time.
Phineas just busted through the gate on the front porch in order to break out and attack a dog who was walking by. Why must he be such an asshole?
Anyway.
On Thursday night I worked Sundown but left early to start driving. Lots of people questioned my choice to start a road-trip at 3:30am, but I felt like it was the best idea ever. I haven't been as happy in a long time as I was when I got on the road. There's something really profoundly exhilirating to me about being on an open road with nothing but miles of interstate in front of you. I had a fast car, a loyal dog, loud music, and a giant cup of Mello Yello to keep me company, and I felt GOOD.
I had a fast car because I had to leave the Volvo at home. It's developed quite the oil leak, and the leak is worst while driving, which means the oil has spattered all over the undercarriage of the car. It's covering most of the bottom of the car and has essentially baked on there into a thick paste that's highly flamable. Basically, if I drive it at high speeds for a long amount of time, it could explode into a giant fiery ball of terror. Which, on the one hand, is AWESOME, but on the other hand is a little deadly, so I guess I'm going to have to fix that.
I'm sleepy. I had a really odd night last night, which I will not detail in an attempt to protect the vaguely innocent. But since it's my blog and not your blog I'll just say this: You are a very stupid man. And you should probably work on that. But regardless, I doubt I'll ever try you again.
I think I'll go hunt for the ingredients to make brownies for Cookie of the Week club.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Non-sequiter updates
A guy told me the other night that as long as your headwear and your footwear are clean, you're rockin it. This was a hip-hop kid, and it was said in reference to my comments on his extremely fancy hat. I'm pretty sure he meant that your head/foot accessories have to be "fresh" and not merely "not dirty", but what do I know. I was wearing Crocs and no headwear at all.
I didn't walk or even go to the ceremony, but Friday was graduation day for the graduate students. Barring any big surprises from the Big Orange Screw, I'm officially Lanier, M.A. My master's thesis is the best thing I've ever written, and I'm really proud of it. I need to do something to celebrate, and I'm thinking a small cocktail party in the Sunsphere. Yes?
I've started running for exercise. I had to make sure I still hate running, and I do, but my tiny new boobs make it a lot easier. Phineas, on the other hand, LOVES running. He's faster than me and wants to run for longer than me.
I made my very own Spitzbuben the other day. These are otherwise known as Crack Cookies. I'll post some pictures soon, since I got more preserves to make another batch. Sooo goooood. I'm holding out for Jessica's grandma's recipe, but the one I have is really yummy.
I found out that my ex-boyfriend is delusional. I had made my peace with him simply being an insecure asshole, but it turns out that he sincerely thinks I should drop all academic pretensions and be a housewife. His basis for this reasoning is that I like cooking and crafty projects, and one time I let him help with the most simple part of part of my statistics homework. I never really talked to him about my academic work because he didn't understand it and he would go off on lecturing tangents, and perhaps this gave him the idea that the stuff I did talk to him about, ie: baking, was more important to me. Or maybe he's just a delusional moron who once told me he was smarter than me and that I shouldn't continue grad school to get a PhD because we should start having babies immediately.
It's Mother's Day. A few weeks ago I thought it was Mother's Day because of all the adverts, so I called my mom to wish her a happy day, only to find out that it was weeks away. I'm going home this coming weekend, so maybe I'll make her brunch or something then.
I'm going home for Katie's wedding. I have procured the perfect black dress and new black heels, so I think I'm ready. But I want another cute and summery dress for the rehersal and shower nonsense, so maybe I'll keep shopping...
Work is really weird now because my bartending parter in crime, Mr. Palm, has left me. He got a "real" job as a tour manager for a hip-hop group. Another bartender got suspending for drinking too much while on the clock. So now there's only two real bartenders left. At least I still have my own pet barback. I'll post a blog about him soon.
I'm working on two pieces for publishing right now. They're both pieces of my thesis, and one is dumbed down and made exciting with the intention of publishing it in a women's magazine, and the other is for an academic journal. Yay, publishing!
I'm sad that both of the newspaper vending machines (what the hell are those called, anyway?) in my vacinity are jammed, because I really want a Sunday paper.
Time to work on Erika's present, watch some TV, and figure out what to do with my evening.
I didn't walk or even go to the ceremony, but Friday was graduation day for the graduate students. Barring any big surprises from the Big Orange Screw, I'm officially Lanier, M.A. My master's thesis is the best thing I've ever written, and I'm really proud of it. I need to do something to celebrate, and I'm thinking a small cocktail party in the Sunsphere. Yes?
I've started running for exercise. I had to make sure I still hate running, and I do, but my tiny new boobs make it a lot easier. Phineas, on the other hand, LOVES running. He's faster than me and wants to run for longer than me.
I made my very own Spitzbuben the other day. These are otherwise known as Crack Cookies. I'll post some pictures soon, since I got more preserves to make another batch. Sooo goooood. I'm holding out for Jessica's grandma's recipe, but the one I have is really yummy.
I found out that my ex-boyfriend is delusional. I had made my peace with him simply being an insecure asshole, but it turns out that he sincerely thinks I should drop all academic pretensions and be a housewife. His basis for this reasoning is that I like cooking and crafty projects, and one time I let him help with the most simple part of part of my statistics homework. I never really talked to him about my academic work because he didn't understand it and he would go off on lecturing tangents, and perhaps this gave him the idea that the stuff I did talk to him about, ie: baking, was more important to me. Or maybe he's just a delusional moron who once told me he was smarter than me and that I shouldn't continue grad school to get a PhD because we should start having babies immediately.
It's Mother's Day. A few weeks ago I thought it was Mother's Day because of all the adverts, so I called my mom to wish her a happy day, only to find out that it was weeks away. I'm going home this coming weekend, so maybe I'll make her brunch or something then.
I'm going home for Katie's wedding. I have procured the perfect black dress and new black heels, so I think I'm ready. But I want another cute and summery dress for the rehersal and shower nonsense, so maybe I'll keep shopping...
Work is really weird now because my bartending parter in crime, Mr. Palm, has left me. He got a "real" job as a tour manager for a hip-hop group. Another bartender got suspending for drinking too much while on the clock. So now there's only two real bartenders left. At least I still have my own pet barback. I'll post a blog about him soon.
I'm working on two pieces for publishing right now. They're both pieces of my thesis, and one is dumbed down and made exciting with the intention of publishing it in a women's magazine, and the other is for an academic journal. Yay, publishing!
I'm sad that both of the newspaper vending machines (what the hell are those called, anyway?) in my vacinity are jammed, because I really want a Sunday paper.
Time to work on Erika's present, watch some TV, and figure out what to do with my evening.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Non-sequiters
Still in limbo. Now I'm just waiting for GA State's sociology department to make a decision. At this point I anticipate that they might accept me but will have run out of funding, making it impossible for me to go there this year. Which means I can try to wrangle some funding out of them for the next academic year and spend the coming year teaching community college or wandering off overseas to do something interesting.
Some things I've been thinking about lately:
One thing I really appreciate about Jessica is that she knows enough details about my life to understand when I refer to things out loud exactly as I refer to them in my head. She knows what I mean when I mention The House I Don't Live In, That Other Guy, That Guy I Dated Whose Name is Not Will, etc. Also, there are a lot of people I refer to by the wrong name, because sometimes I have a hard time remembering people's real names and I randomly decide they have a different name, and it takes a good friend to keep up with that.
Seared ahi tuna = happiness.
Vintage Coach bags also = happiness, but in a more materialistic and bank-account-damaging way.
It's Lost night! Whoot!
I've been really grumpy lately. I really need a project and some answers.
I bought some really amazing shoes yesterday to wear to Katie's wedding. They are for-fucking-serious shoes. I'll post a picture at some point. I also bought a cocktail ring, because it was in the "LAST REDUCED CLEARANCE 600% OFF" section, and I was in the kind of mood where "sparkly" was a good enough reason to buy something.
I really like engrish.com. My only problem with it is that sometimes I really want to buy the shirts or candy they're selling, and there is no way to obtain them.
I'm almost done with the main part of Erika's wedding present. I don't want to risk sharing too many details here, but it's taking a lot of hand stitching!
If you could choose to be good enough at any one sport to play professionally, what sport would you pick? I would obviously go with equestrian sports (and indeed, there's still time for me), but I wonder what it would feel like to be a pro football player. I think being on the field with all those people in the stands would be pretty amazing. But then you would get rammed into repeatedly...but only for like 10-15 games a year...and they pay SO well...but your body wears out so quickly... I don't know.
I think this is about enough blogging. I'll come back with real thoughts next time.
Some things I've been thinking about lately:
One thing I really appreciate about Jessica is that she knows enough details about my life to understand when I refer to things out loud exactly as I refer to them in my head. She knows what I mean when I mention The House I Don't Live In, That Other Guy, That Guy I Dated Whose Name is Not Will, etc. Also, there are a lot of people I refer to by the wrong name, because sometimes I have a hard time remembering people's real names and I randomly decide they have a different name, and it takes a good friend to keep up with that.
Seared ahi tuna = happiness.
Vintage Coach bags also = happiness, but in a more materialistic and bank-account-damaging way.
It's Lost night! Whoot!
I've been really grumpy lately. I really need a project and some answers.
I bought some really amazing shoes yesterday to wear to Katie's wedding. They are for-fucking-serious shoes. I'll post a picture at some point. I also bought a cocktail ring, because it was in the "LAST REDUCED CLEARANCE 600% OFF" section, and I was in the kind of mood where "sparkly" was a good enough reason to buy something.
I really like engrish.com. My only problem with it is that sometimes I really want to buy the shirts or candy they're selling, and there is no way to obtain them.
I'm almost done with the main part of Erika's wedding present. I don't want to risk sharing too many details here, but it's taking a lot of hand stitching!
If you could choose to be good enough at any one sport to play professionally, what sport would you pick? I would obviously go with equestrian sports (and indeed, there's still time for me), but I wonder what it would feel like to be a pro football player. I think being on the field with all those people in the stands would be pretty amazing. But then you would get rammed into repeatedly...but only for like 10-15 games a year...and they pay SO well...but your body wears out so quickly... I don't know.
I think this is about enough blogging. I'll come back with real thoughts next time.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Yes? Wait, no.
So I finally had a customer give me his number while I was working last night.
Unfortunately, it was a kind of scary black thug guy.
He walks up and says something that I can't hear - since the band is incredibly loud - but the gist of it was "let me holla at you" and then he asked me if I was "dedicated". I was in the middle of a 12 hour shift and not thinking or listening too hard, so I said "to what?", thinking he meant my job. But it turns out he meant to a guy. So I said no, because I didn't feel like lying. Then he asked if I ever date brothers. I said I never had, but I was open to the idea, which is true. What I wanted to say was "sure, but maybe not you, because you seem scary". Anyway, he said some other things I couldn't hear and wrote down his phone number. I was like "score! and yet, not score!" What do you think, blog land? Should I call a man who looks scary and yet draws a smiley face next to his name?
And some other drunk redneck goes "what time to you get off?" to which I replied "5 am". He just frowned and said "huh...I'll be in bed by then..." and wandered off.
Listen, people: don't ask the bartender when they get off, because the answer is "really late", and because we've heard that. Many times. In general, we get out of work later than you're prepared to deal with.
In a future blog, coming soon: my thoughts on picking up the bartender and how much I like to read and laugh at articles that tell you how to do it.
Unfortunately, it was a kind of scary black thug guy.
He walks up and says something that I can't hear - since the band is incredibly loud - but the gist of it was "let me holla at you" and then he asked me if I was "dedicated". I was in the middle of a 12 hour shift and not thinking or listening too hard, so I said "to what?", thinking he meant my job. But it turns out he meant to a guy. So I said no, because I didn't feel like lying. Then he asked if I ever date brothers. I said I never had, but I was open to the idea, which is true. What I wanted to say was "sure, but maybe not you, because you seem scary". Anyway, he said some other things I couldn't hear and wrote down his phone number. I was like "score! and yet, not score!" What do you think, blog land? Should I call a man who looks scary and yet draws a smiley face next to his name?
And some other drunk redneck goes "what time to you get off?" to which I replied "5 am". He just frowned and said "huh...I'll be in bed by then..." and wandered off.
Listen, people: don't ask the bartender when they get off, because the answer is "really late", and because we've heard that. Many times. In general, we get out of work later than you're prepared to deal with.
In a future blog, coming soon: my thoughts on picking up the bartender and how much I like to read and laugh at articles that tell you how to do it.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Late Easter post
On Easter Lauren, Jessica and I had a tea party in honor of Mr. Tipton. Mr. Tipton is Lauren's bunny, and she decided that since she has no idea when his real birthday is, she would celebrate it on Easter.
We made a really elaborate spread of food, including mini quiche, cucumber sandwiches, a veggie plate for Mr. Tipton to share, a cheese plate, deviled eggs, and a peach pie. We also had a gigantic bowl of very dangerous punch, jello eggs that were really jello shots, and mimosas.
We also wore tea party dresses and dyed eggs. Below is evidence of me wearing colors. Also shown are Jessica and Lauren displaying their beautiful wares.
We made a really elaborate spread of food, including mini quiche, cucumber sandwiches, a veggie plate for Mr. Tipton to share, a cheese plate, deviled eggs, and a peach pie. We also had a gigantic bowl of very dangerous punch, jello eggs that were really jello shots, and mimosas.
We also wore tea party dresses and dyed eggs. Below is evidence of me wearing colors. Also shown are Jessica and Lauren displaying their beautiful wares.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Dreams
I had two dreams last night in which someone was trying to kill Phineas.
In the first one we were on safari or something - there were giraffes and rhinos around, anyway. And then a cheetah came pacing towards us, and even though there were 4 or 5 people and 3 or 4 dogs, I knew he was going to go for Phineas. So the cheetah and I started facing off, with both of us pacing around Phin and me trying to keep Phin from attacking the cheetah. For some reason I was not afraid that the cheetah wanted to eat me, which in retrospect seems silly.
In the second one I was a member of a special army group, and the guy trying to kill Phineas was from the opposing army, and he was insane in a scary way. His goal was to kill Phineas or my brother's dog or a third dog that was there in order to psychologically defeat us. I screamed a lot in that one.
Anyway, I'm wondering what these dreams are about. I think it's because I feel threatened to my very core by the possible rejection from grad schools. Ever since I got to college I've known what I wanted to do, and having that career path possibly taken away from me is terrifying. I think that in some way Phineas represents me, or my soul, or something like that.
I'd be interested in other thoughts on this.
Oh, and I'm up so early because I'm already on the email/phone call path.
In the first one we were on safari or something - there were giraffes and rhinos around, anyway. And then a cheetah came pacing towards us, and even though there were 4 or 5 people and 3 or 4 dogs, I knew he was going to go for Phineas. So the cheetah and I started facing off, with both of us pacing around Phin and me trying to keep Phin from attacking the cheetah. For some reason I was not afraid that the cheetah wanted to eat me, which in retrospect seems silly.
In the second one I was a member of a special army group, and the guy trying to kill Phineas was from the opposing army, and he was insane in a scary way. His goal was to kill Phineas or my brother's dog or a third dog that was there in order to psychologically defeat us. I screamed a lot in that one.
Anyway, I'm wondering what these dreams are about. I think it's because I feel threatened to my very core by the possible rejection from grad schools. Ever since I got to college I've known what I wanted to do, and having that career path possibly taken away from me is terrifying. I think that in some way Phineas represents me, or my soul, or something like that.
I'd be interested in other thoughts on this.
Oh, and I'm up so early because I'm already on the email/phone call path.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Good/Bad
New Shoes - see below
Reverse view of certification of thesis - see below.The Good News:
I turned in the final copy of my thesis to the graduate school on Thursday. It was an oddly grueling process because of the formatting and page number bullshit that they required. After all of it, I was afraid the page numbers were going to do me in. But I did it, thanks to Jorge in the graduate school, who is a genius with Word. God bless him. I should send him a muffin basket.
Work is profitable.
Mike Palm's new hobby is giving me shoes. He gave me these amazing leopard print Nike high tops, and I'm still trying to figure out how to wear them. I think those shoes might be cooler than me.
The Bad News:
I may not have a future anymore. I finally got in contact with GA State, which has the PhD program I want the most, and they told me that because they have not received one of my transcripts and one of my recommendation letters, they have NOT EVEN PROCESSED my application. I won't know for sure until tomorrow, but this might mean that I won't be able to go there this fall. Which means I would have to wait a year to start a PhD program. Which means I no longer have a future. I've been floating around in limbo since about December, just waiting to find out what was going to happen and where I was going to live, and it's STILL out of my hands. I'm doing what I can, and I have Dr. Presser on my side with her mighty powers of email and phone calls, so we'll see.
I got a talking to at work for not pretending to care about work. They said my attitude has been bad and suggested I pretend to like work to make it more pleasant. If the other bartenders and I were doing our jobs as badly as management has been doing theirs, we would be fired. But indicating that this may be the case by asking questions like "but why don't we have more than 4 cases of beer for Sundown?" or "we only have $50 dollars in ones for change?" is clearly problematic and disrespectful. So I've been pretending my ass off, by which I mean taking shots and not asking questions, and things seem fine. Although deep down, I'm not sure that anyone is fooled.
A cute boy I had been flirting with (and who I thought was flirting back) introduced me to his GIRLFRIEND and their BABY this week. He could have mentioned them earlier.
A customer heard me talking to someone else about her baby and said "it looks like you have one on the way, huh?" the other night. To which I responded "no, I'm just fat", which is true. But this meant that I couldn't handle the bad grad school news with food, which is how I normally handle stress (which is why I'm fat which is why strangers must think I'm pregnant) for fear of customers continuing to think I'm pregnant.
Jessica left town today to go hang out with her family in Franklin, which means I don't even get to do my usual Sunday night ritual of dinner with her and Mike. Which makes it difficult to process my feelings and get advice. I may go out with Josh instead, but it's always hard to tell, with Josh. He might see something shiny and forget.
Oh, and it's raining, so I guess I won't take Phineas to the park, which was my plan for today.
So grumpy!
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
3 and 3
I was just watching this decorating show while I ate my lunch, and it got me thinking. In the show the decorator (Thom from Queer Eye - I love him) tells his clients to gather their three favorite items of clothing and their three favorite pieces of furniture. Based on what they bring him, he decorates their house. Naturally, I began to consider what I would show him.
Furniture:
1. My desk. It's my all-time favorite piece of furniture. It's big and sturdy and made of unvarnished walnut. I like its rounded edges and scuff marks. It has three drawers and three shelves and is difficult to move because it's incredibly heavy.
2. My bed. It was made by some relative - my great uncle, perhaps? Great-great uncle? Something like that. Anyway. It's handmade out of hardwood (maybe cherry) and is roughly full-sized, although it was made before mattress standardization. I have a big puffy mattress pad and a big puffy down comforter, soft jersey sheets, and several pillows to make it even better.
3. My day bed. Made by the same mysterious relative. It was also made on a lathe and you have to string it with rope. It always gets really saggy and comfortable after a month or two.
Clothing:
(This part is a lot harder)
1. My favorite black dress. It's really simple - black, strapless, curve-hugging, no adornment. I've worn it to absolutely everything because it's appropriate for lots of occasions and because I love it.
2. My scottie pants. I wear these pants every day. In fact, I'm wearing them right now. They're red and they have little embroidered scotties on them, which I like to pretend are actually Cairn terriers. They're just soft cotton pajamas.
3. And I just don't know what else to add. My favorite black cardigan? My leopard print super bra? The American flag underpants I wear to scary things, to give me secret confidence? My Burberry trench? My purple Kenyon hoodie? My World's Fair hoodie?
Anyway. I'm also not sure what all this says about me. I'd welcome comments, and if anyone knows how to get in touch with Thom, we'll ask him.
In other news:
I'm working on the suggested changes to my thesis right now. I should finish within the week.
It's cold here.
I had SO MUCH fun with Matt in New Orleans.
I let Jessica pick my new hair color, since she says I never pick correctly. I'm not convinced by her choice.
I seem to have gotten incredibly fat on account of all the stress eating and baking during thesis time. I'm going to have to work on that.
I got a super awesome egg that's painted like a shark at Walgreens last night. But the jellybeans inside were awful.
I finally have a key to the roof. New goal: have sex on the roof.
I finished my Dan Brown book. Now I need a new book. Suggestions?
Furniture:
1. My desk. It's my all-time favorite piece of furniture. It's big and sturdy and made of unvarnished walnut. I like its rounded edges and scuff marks. It has three drawers and three shelves and is difficult to move because it's incredibly heavy.
2. My bed. It was made by some relative - my great uncle, perhaps? Great-great uncle? Something like that. Anyway. It's handmade out of hardwood (maybe cherry) and is roughly full-sized, although it was made before mattress standardization. I have a big puffy mattress pad and a big puffy down comforter, soft jersey sheets, and several pillows to make it even better.
3. My day bed. Made by the same mysterious relative. It was also made on a lathe and you have to string it with rope. It always gets really saggy and comfortable after a month or two.
Clothing:
(This part is a lot harder)
1. My favorite black dress. It's really simple - black, strapless, curve-hugging, no adornment. I've worn it to absolutely everything because it's appropriate for lots of occasions and because I love it.
2. My scottie pants. I wear these pants every day. In fact, I'm wearing them right now. They're red and they have little embroidered scotties on them, which I like to pretend are actually Cairn terriers. They're just soft cotton pajamas.
3. And I just don't know what else to add. My favorite black cardigan? My leopard print super bra? The American flag underpants I wear to scary things, to give me secret confidence? My Burberry trench? My purple Kenyon hoodie? My World's Fair hoodie?
Anyway. I'm also not sure what all this says about me. I'd welcome comments, and if anyone knows how to get in touch with Thom, we'll ask him.
In other news:
I'm working on the suggested changes to my thesis right now. I should finish within the week.
It's cold here.
I had SO MUCH fun with Matt in New Orleans.
I let Jessica pick my new hair color, since she says I never pick correctly. I'm not convinced by her choice.
I seem to have gotten incredibly fat on account of all the stress eating and baking during thesis time. I'm going to have to work on that.
I got a super awesome egg that's painted like a shark at Walgreens last night. But the jellybeans inside were awful.
I finally have a key to the roof. New goal: have sex on the roof.
I finished my Dan Brown book. Now I need a new book. Suggestions?
Friday, April 3, 2009
The city of New Orleans
I'm back in Matt's apartment, waiting for him to come home so that we can go out and be silly and have fun times in the French Quarter.
My presentation went well this morning. I love giving presentations. Public speaking is on my (short) list of things I'm good at, which is lucky, because we had very little time to make a plan for this presentation. I wrote this paper with a professor and another grad student, and the professor declined to meet with us to prepare, making the other grad student nearly "rend herself in two" (thanks James) with worry. But it was fine, and our whole session was pleasant.
That was at 8am this morning, which isn't even a real time in my normal world. Afterwards I went to Cafe DuMond and ate beignets with two other grad students, which was delightful. Then I tore my feet to pitiful little shreds walking back to Matt's in unwise shoes. Ah well. It's nothing that wasn't made better by gummy bears, a trashy book (Dan Brown's new one - seriously.), and a nap.
I really like New Orleans. Maybe I should just move here. It's not like my solid plans are materializing, anyway. I still haven't heard from Georgia State, although I harassed one of them yesterday (she claimed to know nothing) and another was in my presentation this morning.
It's list time!
New Orleans pros and cons:
Pros: Never gets cold. Nice architechture. Good food. Near the water. Good colleges. Mardi Gras.
Cons: Always muggy. Lots of crime. Lots of poverty. I don't know anyone who still lives here. Expensive. Lots of drunk people. Mardi Gras. French/Cajun/mumbly-business is hard to understand.
Hmm.
My presentation went well this morning. I love giving presentations. Public speaking is on my (short) list of things I'm good at, which is lucky, because we had very little time to make a plan for this presentation. I wrote this paper with a professor and another grad student, and the professor declined to meet with us to prepare, making the other grad student nearly "rend herself in two" (thanks James) with worry. But it was fine, and our whole session was pleasant.
That was at 8am this morning, which isn't even a real time in my normal world. Afterwards I went to Cafe DuMond and ate beignets with two other grad students, which was delightful. Then I tore my feet to pitiful little shreds walking back to Matt's in unwise shoes. Ah well. It's nothing that wasn't made better by gummy bears, a trashy book (Dan Brown's new one - seriously.), and a nap.
I really like New Orleans. Maybe I should just move here. It's not like my solid plans are materializing, anyway. I still haven't heard from Georgia State, although I harassed one of them yesterday (she claimed to know nothing) and another was in my presentation this morning.
It's list time!
New Orleans pros and cons:
Pros: Never gets cold. Nice architechture. Good food. Near the water. Good colleges. Mardi Gras.
Cons: Always muggy. Lots of crime. Lots of poverty. I don't know anyone who still lives here. Expensive. Lots of drunk people. Mardi Gras. French/Cajun/mumbly-business is hard to understand.
Hmm.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
List making
I like to make lists. In part this is because I'm a planner and I enjoy planning things, but also this is because I will forget things if I don't write them down. Going to the grocery store, for instance, is a lost cause without a list. I will end up with a basket full of things that look yummy, but no toilet paper, even though I went there for TP in the first place.
My newest list: Things I Must Remember Never to Do Again
1. Buy luggage without wheels.
2. Go see Dr. Michaud when I could just talk to her office on the phone
Obviously, there are millions of others. And I intend to update this list as I go, but these two came up today and made me realize that I should make this list.
In other notes, I am now in possession of toiletries of an acceptable size to carry onto a plane and I had a lovely dinner with Lucinda (my Sunday school teacher from hundreds of years ago who essentially adopted Matt Salisbury and myself, and is the parent we rarely see. She also writes excellent books on horse-related things). Oh, and I rediscovered one of my favorite books from childhood and read the whole thing last night. Thank god my parents kept all my books.
My newest list: Things I Must Remember Never to Do Again
1. Buy luggage without wheels.
2. Go see Dr. Michaud when I could just talk to her office on the phone
Obviously, there are millions of others. And I intend to update this list as I go, but these two came up today and made me realize that I should make this list.
In other notes, I am now in possession of toiletries of an acceptable size to carry onto a plane and I had a lovely dinner with Lucinda (my Sunday school teacher from hundreds of years ago who essentially adopted Matt Salisbury and myself, and is the parent we rarely see. She also writes excellent books on horse-related things). Oh, and I rediscovered one of my favorite books from childhood and read the whole thing last night. Thank god my parents kept all my books.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Victory in our time
I defended my thesis on Friday.
And I passed!
I win!
In all seriousness, it was scary. I worked harder on this project than anything I've ever done, and yet it was easier and more fun than anything I've ever done. At least, most of it was fun. I've never been good at the fluffing up parts. Left to my own devices, my work is straight-forward and verging on sparse. And defending it made me nervous, even though I know my data inside and out.
Luckily, it's traditional to bring snacks for your committee. This gave me something to worry about and obsess over all week, and thank god for that. I ended up making cheese straws (with my new cookie gun), tiny blueberry muffins, little pinwheel wraps (on gluten free wraps), and "Texas Caviar" with blue corn chips. I went to town. I even got cute blue polka-dot plates to serve it all on.
To celebrate passing, I... went to work. And then I went to work again. But on Sunday I went out with Jessica for our traditional Sunday dinner, then met all manner of people at Backroom. It was thoroughly delightful.
Right now I'm in Franklin, hanging out with my parents and doing lots of shopping. On Wednesday I leave for a conference in New Orleans, which should be a lot more boring than it sounds.
I'll keep you updated.
And I passed!
I win!
In all seriousness, it was scary. I worked harder on this project than anything I've ever done, and yet it was easier and more fun than anything I've ever done. At least, most of it was fun. I've never been good at the fluffing up parts. Left to my own devices, my work is straight-forward and verging on sparse. And defending it made me nervous, even though I know my data inside and out.
Luckily, it's traditional to bring snacks for your committee. This gave me something to worry about and obsess over all week, and thank god for that. I ended up making cheese straws (with my new cookie gun), tiny blueberry muffins, little pinwheel wraps (on gluten free wraps), and "Texas Caviar" with blue corn chips. I went to town. I even got cute blue polka-dot plates to serve it all on.
To celebrate passing, I... went to work. And then I went to work again. But on Sunday I went out with Jessica for our traditional Sunday dinner, then met all manner of people at Backroom. It was thoroughly delightful.
Right now I'm in Franklin, hanging out with my parents and doing lots of shopping. On Wednesday I leave for a conference in New Orleans, which should be a lot more boring than it sounds.
I'll keep you updated.
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