Completely amazing.

I love librarians.

Veggie/vegan chili - attempt one

Chili Prototype

Four links Field Roast chorizo-style fake sausage
Two cans beans of choice (or a pre-soaked bulk equivalent) - half pinto and half black was tasty
One medium yellow onion
A bunch of garlic, chopped roughly
A green pepper, chopped into 1 inch pieces or so
A zucchini, chopped into thickish coins
A carrot, chopped into thickish coins
Whatever other veggies are sitting around the freezer needing to be used (frozen corn, chopped spinach, etc)
Dash cayenne
Dash cumin
Black pepper to taste
Avocado and sour cream/yogurt/substitute of choice for toppage

Put everything except the avocado and dairy/dairy substitute in a crock pot. Remember crock pots take forever and that you just got off work. Turn the crock pot on low. Mumble about how you don't want to eat dinner at 2:00 am and turn the crock pot on high. Leave it alone for a few hours, stirring occasionally. Realize that you should have drained the beans better since it's pretty soupy. Make a mental note to blog about it. Reproach self for overwhelming nerdiness. Come back to the pot eventually, checking to make sure the veggies haven't disintegrated. They haven't. Sweet. Serve with toppings and freeze the rest for subsequent dinners. Thank roommate profusely for use of crock pot. Have odd conversation about fish that can change their sex. Crack a 22 of Midnight Sun Sockeye Red IPA and hunker down for the night.

Ben Franklin's In-Grave Rotation Speed Hits All-time High

This just in: We're not quite done with the sacrifice of privacy for alleged security. The retool of FISA lets major mobile telecommunication companies off the hook for releasing consumer information to the government. My own carrier, Verizon, is among these lucky beneficiaries. Before I get too steamed, it's worth mentioning that the retool applies primarily (if not exclusively) to parties "reasonably believed" to be overseas. The blanket protections for the cell companies drives me crazy, but on the whole, Nancy Pelosi called it a "balanced bill" - not bad for a behind-closed-doors, bi-partisan effort. Nothing about this sits right with me.

Also, the Supreme Court ruled in favor of extending rights for employees who believe that they have been discriminated against based on age. Being young and green and new to the workplace, seeing the old hands with ample experience on the chopping block is troubling as is. I mean, that doesn't exactly give me much to look forward to.

Right. Legal affairs segment over. Let's talk about my body. My arm hurts from my first HPV vaccination (hooray for planned parenthood! hooray for Merck subsidizing shots for the uninsured! hooray for spongebob band-aids!), and plants are having sex in my face, to wit, i have mad hay fever. Isn't leaving Eugene and the Valley of Sickness supposed to fix that sort of thing?

I just discovered that Black Sheep Bakery has a bike-through coffee outpost on my way to work - hel-LO blueberry cornmeal muffins. I will replicate you in my kitchen and chow down appropriately. If only they carried better coffee...

I tried to pick up a comic book today (Tank Girl 2) and simply couldn't do it. What that means, I don't know, but it's troubling.

Get Smart - hell yeah. This kid watched the show on Nick at Nite like crazy and can't hardly wait for Steve Carrell to bring his amazing and Anne Hathaway to bring her not-quite-disconcerting doe eyes to one beloved waste of hours of my childhood.

The jury's still out on the new job. I mean, I can tell that it's going to be challenging in all the ways my previous gig was not, but I miss my AHMRT coworkers and the strange feeling of safety that was almost familial.

Speaking of family, my mother visited and my grandfather died in the same weekend. Not really coping, not really clear.

I want to write something quiet and profound about hope and failure, after an absolutely shattering and inspiring night at election central for an Oregon state legislature candidate who lost her bid. The journal entry I wrote in my head on the bike ride home was a paean to ambition, failure, and the toughness it takes to rebound from all of that. Some damn good turns of phrase in there. Shame I never wrote it down.

This journal entry turned blog post got sort of muddled with my more self-centered thoughts. It takes major league guts to pour yourself into something, not succeed, and navigate the fallout with dignity and courage. That's the sort of strength I aspire to because it's become extraordinarily evident that I will not ace every endeavor I undertake. Even though I'm growing accustomed to falling on my face, saddling up again has only become marginally easier. Still. I'll take that much.

So here's to courage in the face of (at least for my part) death of loved ones, grief of loved ones, friends coming and going, (new) employment anxiety, emotional instability, money troubles, impending law school admissions (or rejections), overwhelming generalized guilt, late fees, due dates, roommate shuffling, and, inevitably, women.

(Shit! My laundry!)

I'm the first to admit that the urge to blog/exhibit my life and thoughts/indulge myself in this medium comes and goes. Expect changes, though, and with those changes, content. Content of interest! More pictures! Less pseudo-profundity! Probably about the same amount of whining, navel-gazing, and wry commentary!

Cedar attacked another dog. She went berserk. I have to pay more than $700 in vet bills AND deal with my furry little maniac now. She's on a definite Strike One, but I don't know how many she gets until she's out.

It's very difficult to remind myself that this is not a failure on my part, that things like this happen, that I may well have to give her up and it won't entirely be my fault.

My grandfather's health continues to decline - I can't get ahold of my dad, who is in Chicago visiting him, for an update.

If bad things really do come in threes, then I'm going to hope for a disappointment along the lines of the Ducks losing the game on Sunday.

My dad flew to his hometown this afternoon because his father's health continues to deteriorate. The only person I've had a sensible, honest conversation with about all of this is my brother - for some reason, talking to my parents about it makes me check out. In fact, I keep checking out anyway. This may or may not be denial.

I have mosquito bites. Hooray for spring being on its way and all, but I thought I could get away with at least a few more months of not itching like crazy.

Meeting people in a new city is hard, but it's getting easier. I felt at home for a minute not too long ago. It was soothing.

Camera is still kaput. Not taking pictures is starting to have an effect. (In a weird way I'm grateful - I was starting to wonder if the creativity had drained from me entirely or if it had just been beaten back.)

to do

Overseas disaster relief.
Teaching English abroad.
Law school.
Find a damn date in this town.
Train Cedar into reasonable habits.
Train self into reasonable exercise/eating/caffeine/alcohol habits.
Laundry.
Learn Spanish.
Become comfortable and competent at work.
Visit grandparents in Chicago.
Road trip to family cabin in the Sierras.
Re-finish new table and add shelves to it.
Brew up a satisfactory red ale.
Live somewhere else for a spell.
Live in Portland for a spell.
Get over self enough to ask grandparents about family history.
Pick up the trumpet again and exceed prior level of proficiency.
Make that apron I keep talking about.
Use up the snap peas and spinach in the fridge (stir-fry?)
Read.
Write old friends.
Save dough for tattoos and vacations and emergencies.
Make dentist appointment.
Relax.
See Black Keys at the Crystal while NOT complaining about the Crystal.
Get over people and things I should have gotten over a while ago.
Hike Latourell Falls and Larch Mountain.

ETA: Send something to Grabman.
Find freelance work.
Chop wood.

snags

The pup bites occasionally - it's only been me and another dog (who was admittedly being a jerk) so far, but there's never a call for biting. I don't know what prompted her aggressive kick, and I don't know how to stop it. She's in doggie therapy (as much as I can afford, anyway, which isn't much), but I have to keep a fairly close eye on her, which is difficult and draining. Unpredictability around other dogs is not okay, but it's hard to figure a way to train her out of it. C agreed to take care of her for the weekend so I can get a break. I'm looking forward to friends, basketball, Bier Stein, VV&B, and perhaps a trip to the Reasonably Priced Comics Shop.

Work remains fast-paced and somewhat frustrating. I'm severely micro-managed and will be until I prove my mettle. The thing is, my immediate superior demands a standard of perfection on par with her 10+ years of experience. There's no way that's going to happen after a matter of months. Oy vey.

I had to dump my homebrew - it got infected. Need some better tubing and a sanitizer that doesn't give me chemical burns, which I plan to procure in Eugene.

We're over the winter hump - theoretically it will rain less soon. Hooray!

Grabman: I keep losing your address. Please to email?

music?

Anyone know of any good bluesy, folksy Americana type artists? (J, I'm looking your way...) I need recommendations.

More dog gush

I figured out why I kept missing my bus in the mornings - the morning belly rub hasn't been factored into my AM schedule since it became ritual.

(Yeah, yeah, I know. Total barf etc.)

Scotch-guard me, I'm clumsy

I should have been issued a poncho at my bedroom door today, Sea World-style. Spilled coffee on myself. Cedar drooled on my leg substantially while I ate breakfast. Someone else spilled coffee on me on the bus. Naturally, it's raining. And now, at work, I've upended my water onto my lap. Liquids are very enthusiastic about my person today.

in a staring at the snow sort of mood

Coming back to Alaska ceased to be "coming home" a while ago, but it still holds the comfort and nostalgia of any long-awaited return. My parents' house naturally hasn't changed much (nor have they - a few more grey hairs, a bit closer to retirement) and swallowed me up as it always had. I spent a night in a house on a mountain, walked along the Knik Arm alone and around the greenbelt with my dad, played cribbage, read. The mellow mood - interspersed with grandparental invasions - has been pleasant, and I'm surprising myself with how sad I am to leave. (The Alaska ACLU is looking for an executive director. Obviously, I'm massively underqualified, but the idea of making my home into a more humane place does carry some martyric appeal. Not so much food for thought as a snack to scrutinize.)

I'm such a daddy's girl, and I'm not sure my dad totally catches that. That's okay. We did a little birdwatching on our walk and from our kitchen. The suet attracts any number of fiesty little songbirds, the names of which I've evidently always known.

Saw a snowshoe hare in the woods behind the University - the first I've ever seen in the city. Also, a grazing moose, which, to most Alaskans, is hardly worth mentioning, but it was the first I'd seen since 2004, I think. That's a long time, really.

Natalie loaned me a book, The Delicacy and Strength of Lace, that has renewed my reverence for writing. It is the collected correspondence between Leslie Marmon Silko and James Wright - two phenomenal American writers who wrote each other with such affection and profundity that I had trouble breathing at times. New Year's Resolution: write letters again. Lots of them. Even if no one replies.

One thing James Wright said that resonated deeply: "For man must realize that his capacity for love gives him no right to demand that anyone love him in return. Not anyone. Not even God. I have found that a hard thing to face, but there is something in it that goes beyond pain." I've been turning this over in my mind since I read it. The most difficult thing to do is to simply love, I think, free of obligation or fear or guilt or expectation. Hope of love in return is one thing, but the assumption that it will be reciprocated is an abuse of this amazing capacity (and that's truly the best word, rich with imagery) to/for/of love that we have and share.

Happy New Year. Please write in the coming year knowing that I am doing my damnedest to write back.

wait...

Not getting a few weeks of vacation at the end of every quarter is going to hurt. I'm already depressed about this. (Some post-trip let-down and illness doesn't really make that any better, but still.)

Alaska in 2 days.

welcome to Seattle, where the sun don't shine

My camera has officially bitten it. Five years is a long stretch for a digital camera, so while I'm sad to see it go, I'm not exactly shocked. So long Dinosaur Battleship! (Named for its age and durability by Trish, myself and most likely a beer or two.) It couldn't have picked a worse weekend to croak. Ample dog and girl photo ops in a pretty, pretty city. Seattle intimidates me less every time I go there. It's still massive and the lay of the land is still kind of a mystery (where the hell is Ravenna and why can't I seem to find it again?) Hitting up the Sound sucker-punched me - I know I always miss the ocean, but I didn't know I missed it so constantly and with such a bottom-of-my-stomach urgency. For all of Portland's charms, the lack of ocean and mountains (no, MOUNTAINS) really does set me into a lull.

So yes. I had a marvelous weekend. Cedar did too - causing a ruckus is one of her favorite activities.

Pup pics

By and large, she's a good dog. Excitable, energetic and eager to please. I need to be more of a hard-ass to get her to take me seriously. That's not easy for me, particularly when I feel guilty about leaving her alone for stretches of time. Still, though, she's mostly housebroken and extremely loving. Her name is Cedar.

There are projects, side projects, ongoing projects and new projects. The evolution from complete boredom to complete bemusement ("where did the last two weeks go?") is nigh upon me, and I wonder how long my new rut will suit me.

Thoughts of leaving the country again arise. Thoughts of law school persist. On top of all of it is the knowledge that I will likely live out most of my days on the West Coast, but I'll surely disappoint myself if "most" turns out to mean "all."

That having been said, I'm starting the long, slow process of entrenching myself somewhere new. With the projects. With the responsibilities and obligations. This is not the life I imagined ten years ago, or even ten months ago. But ten days ago, today would have been believable, perhaps an improvement.

Adulthood may crash in my lap sooner than I thought. Ick.

In less purple prose: I'm volunteering, making my house a home, embarking on new kitchen and garden projects, wrangling furniture for our half-furnished house, learning to knit, and collecting the supplies and wits and funds necessary to get the dog I've been raving about for months. My baby brother visits for Thanksgiving. I go back to Alaska for Christmas for the first time in three years. In the back of my throat and the well of my stomach, something shifts every time I think about it all.

Realistically, pictures of the house will come when pictures of the dog do.

The house front is moving more slowly than I'd like -- it's looking like we won't move in until next weekend at the earliest. Frustrating. I'm sick of making excuses as to why I'm not moved in already and I'm growing weary of the long-term houseguest situation.

In less whiny news, I get to see the New Pornographers tonight! I've had my ticket for about three months now -- can we say mailing list? The full line-up will evidently be playing -- Neko and Dan inclusive. Needless to say, I'll be at the front of the crush, dancing and screaming.

Fixed up my bike a little today. New stem and seat post -- the thing actually fits me now. The operation took a lot longer than I'd have liked. To the tune of an hour and a half longer, but I'm not terribly patient. Or adept with a wrench apparently. At any rate, it's taller and road-ready, if a bit in need of some tweaking.

Cafes in SE Portland have been conspiring to play music that will maximize my moodiness. The sudden cloudy turn has made it even more clear that not only does everything in this town (and the world?) revolve around me, but the whole operation is trying to make me grumpy. Not possible when a sweet, long-awaited concert is on the horizon, I'm afraid.

Last tidbit: a photo of mine has been published. See!

various.

The mistranslations in some of these documents I review at work can be pretty thought-provoking. Usually, the intent is preserved, but the wording is at a strange nexus of clarity and cumbersome-ness. For example, a mechanical device won't be quieter or reduce noise, it will endeavor to "improve silence." The idea of silence as a sliding scale, something that can be optimized, appeals to me in a weird way.

In more exciting, less navel-gazerly news, my roomies and I found a house and we'll hopefully move in this weekend. It's in southeast, right around the corner (literally -- less than a block) from where I'm staying now. My commute to work remains 10-15 minutes. The bars I like (and the E-room) are still comfortably close. Ahhh. Damn, it feels good to be a resident.

It occurred to me today that this is the first September 11th that has fallen on a Tuesday since the towers fell. This is not insignificant, at least not to me. That Tuesday, I worked at the Anchorage Daily News after school and saw a frenzied newsroom that I can't forget. That Tuesday was one of many tuesdays of my junior year of high school -- Tuesday was my favorite day of my favorite year of an otherwise middling-to-shitty episode of life.

This Tuesday is one of what will be one of many like others. I'm working my way toward a schedule again, and Tuesdays herald staff meetings instead of the best block schedule of the week (periods 1,2,4 and 5 -- human anatomy, pottery, drawing and AP European history -- sad that the only reason I remember this is because of the attacks.) At any rate, watching the protesters in Pioneer Courthouse Square while munching my leftovers got me thinking about watching that terrifying footage over and over in school, until I asked my history teacher to let me leave.