30 September 2010

petition for a 37 hour day.

Dear Universe,

I'm running into a bit of trouble, ya see. There just aren't enough hours in the day for me to do all things I need to do, let alone all the things I want to do. It's getting to be a bit of a problem. For instance, my to do list includes:

A) a big work deadline on 10/21, followed by an even bigger deadline on 11/18. I believe that puts me squarley in the "crunch time," a.k.a. the "all I feel like I do is work" time.
B) oh, I'm getting married. And weddings don't seem to plan themselves. Plus I want to, you know, relax and have time to enjoy this whole engaged business. it's kind of fun.
C) i need to renew my licensure and of my 3 classes, I am only a quarter way through the first one. Due in mid-November. This is a big one. BIG. my CPA books just keep staring at me.
D) i used to be working on this thing called a novel. Yes, I'd like to get back to that. I've bailed on submitting chapters to my writing group for the last couple months, and it's just getting embarrassing.
E) yes, and i'd like to have much more time to blog. I know blog is an ugly word, but its such a pretty thing. I don't have nearly enough time to scout the internet for lovely photos and interesting tidbits. I need that in my life.

Now, dear Universe, I know people have asked this of you before, and you have remain steadfast in your commitment to a 24 hour day. But please... I'm a bit special and I really need it. I'll be anxiously awaiting your reply.


27 September 2010

BOOYAH marriage.

lovely folks, sorry i up and disappeared on you for a bit. some things were going on. exciting things. things with shiny rings, and serious questions, and surprise picnics on the roof with big bouquets of yellow flowers and yummy BLTs.

that's right. amos and i are engaged. i have spent the last week in total, complete, and slightly overwhelming happiness. no, i did not see it coming, and yes, in the end, that worked for me. we went ring shopping, i've got something beautiful and vintage on my finger, and we've happily told our families, who are so supportive.

i never thought it was possible to be completely exhausted from joy/happiness/bliss, but here i am. i'll keep it short and sweet and see you all soon.

25 September 2010

It gets better.


my god, i do love dan savage. and it does get better. support this and go watch: http://www.youtube.com/itgetsbetterproject

16 September 2010

they should call it sky falling.

you know that dream you have, the one where you're falling and then - BAM - you wake up? I had that, in real life, except I didn't fall and wake up, I just keep falling and falling and falling.

Peeps, I went skydiving. For real. It was super fun. And the scariest fucking thing I've ever done.

It was my sister's boyfriend's quarter-century birthday. My sister doesn't do small birthday shindigs. The girl goes big. Surprise skydiving big. With everyone wearing matching shirts. How could I not get my booty down to Portland and jump out of a plane with them?

So I did.

Did I mention it was scary?

Amos couldn't come (he was man-cationing), so I was going solo. Get there late on Friday, promptly ruin the "surprise" part of the birthday ("So when I told Dad we were skydiving...Ooh, shit. Sorry!"). Truth be told, I hadn't really thought about what I'd signed up for. I just knew I needed lots of cash - this is not a cheap activity - and to show up ready to go at 10:30. On the ride out to the site, one of my fellow jumpers had the gall to tell me that just about every skydiving organization has had a death or two, and ours* - a suicide by an instructor - was no exception. At this point, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I should have thought this through a bit more.

We drove out to the Oregon countryside, threw down some dinero, and signed away every legal right we might possibly have. Seriously. One of the waivers said - paraphrasing here - Skydiving is one of the most dangerous things a person can do. Mistakes and errors happen. We might make a mistake. You might make a mistake. The pilot might make a mistake and you could have broken bones, bruises, concussions, or you may die. This is part of the risk of skydiving and you/your family cannot sue us. Holy crap. It took me about an hour to read all the rights I was signing away. This did not make me feel any more secure.

Post-waivers, post-payment, and post -very-short-15-minute-training-session, we were ready to go! We went out to a field, where we promptly sat for about 2 hours waiting for our turn. Actually, this part calmed my nerves the most. People kept going up in the planes, jumping out, and coming down safely. Including the 84-year old grandmother who went before us. She was fricking adorable, in her tracksuit and super white tenny-shoes. The woman is my new role model. I mean, you all know I have a secret desire to be an old woman.

Anyway, enough celebrating old people. It was time to go. I picked out my bright pink parachute (I insist on high style wherever I go), met my tandem jumper, put on the harness, helmet, and sweet goggles, and hopped onto the tiny little airplane. At this point, I had gotten very quiet. Not speaking quiet. Pale face quiet. I was just focusing on breathing and not vomiting.


The plane was empty save for two foam benches running parallel from front to back. We hopped in the door on the back of the plane and all straddled the benched and scooted back, sitting in a little train of skydivers. We climbed up, slowly, to 13,000 feet, where the views were impeccable: Rainier, Helen, Hood, Jefferson, Adams, Three Sisters, and downtown Portland. Strangely enough, the higher we climbed, the less nervous I became. It seemed significantly less real as the ground became a patchwork of colors instead of actual fields, farms, roads, and houses. Then the back door opened and the temperature of the plane dropped to that of a walk-in beer cooler. About the moment, I officially wanted to lose my shit. F my life.

We slid down the benches and Sister's Boyfriend turned to look back at us as he got ready to leave the plane. I've never seen the kid so pale. Then, right before my eyes, he dropped. As I was registering that he just fell. out. of. a plane., my tandem instructor was pushing me toward the door. At no point were my limbs going to help him out: I was pretty much paralyzed. He had me sit on the edge of the plane, with my legs dangling out, flapping in the wind, as the landscape whizzed by, and wind whipped around me. I have never been so batshit scared in my life. And then we fell forward, the weight of my instructor pushing me out of the plane. Immediately, my stomach was in my throat and my eyes were closed. Reminding myself I paid handsomely do to this, I forced my baby blues open. We hit terminal velocity and my stomach was returned to its rightful place. We fell for over a minute, reaching 120 mph and descended from 13,000 to 4,000 feet. I kept chanting: Please let the parachute open. Please let the parachute open. Please let the parachute open. The universe listened. The bright pink canvas came out of the pack and we began to gracefully drift downwards. That part was fun, except when we did flips, and my extremely sensitive stomach threatened revolt. After putting my instructor in his place (Do you want me to vomit on you?), we returned to a lovely decent, landing softly in the field. Others in our group had a more Wild Ride, including free fall flips and spins, but I am - at heart - a boring girl and falling out of a plane the good old-fashioned vanilla way is plenty for me. Me and the 84 year old woman. The only way it could have been better was if I was in a matching tracksuit.

We celebrated with beer and burgers, followed by more beer at the Green Dragon, a favorite spot of mine (and sister and sister's boyfriend). If you find yourself in tPDX, and even if you are too much of a wimp to skydive, visit them and grab yourself a beer. Maybe a Jalapeno one**, if you feel like living, which is exactly what I was doing.

*Ours was Skydive Oregon, which was very, very good. Highly recommended.
** Srsly. Get one and a plate of nachos and thank me later.

11 September 2010


i went to high school. i went to college. i took a bagillion tests to become professionally certified (to clarify, bagillion = 4). and now, a scant 2 years later, looks like i have to catch up on my reading to keep my licensure.

Oh, and the books cost $430, which is just insulting. i'm kind of regreting this whole grown-up-have-an-adult-job-thing. Can I get a do over and come back as Hannah Montana? Her life seems awesome*.

*I know, the poor child is stalked by paparazzi. BUT... did you see the book Intellectual Property up there? I would gladly exchange one book, one 'azzi. deal, Miley?

08 September 2010

damn it seattle.

if you are going to insist on being summer-y for a measly 6 weeks, then I am def. going to increase my coffee budget. because if this is me in August, god help us in February....

01 September 2010

if a blog was a restaurant...

... it would be Nettletown, this lovely, little hole-in-the-wall that is kind of new to my 'hood. I went with Amos on Friday (when he was playing hooky... shush, don't tell.) I had a lovely lunch of pork noodles and he had lobster and mushroom sandwich, complete with Beechers' cheese. And if you're familiar with Beechers', than you would understand how positively delicious this sandwich was. I plan on returning soon for the baked eggs and huckleberry mimosas. Or the Rogue beer and lemongrass elk meatball sandwhich. Decisions, decisions...
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