To be continued

I passed nursing school and the parents flew in for it, so we are now walking the dog, shopping, cooking with my new Le Creuset red pot (!!!!), doing Christmasy stuff, and just living. 

So, I won't be writing until after Christmas, when things slow down and I can catch up on the things that have been put on the back burner for, oh about 12 months. 

Expect a nursing school post, a tribute to Maverick post, a Christmas post, and quite possibly, a New Year's list.

Sidebar

Okay, I can't actually change my url because it IS taken.

Here is my competition.

Check me out

So, I decided to google my blog today because apparently someone clicked on the site after searching, "Mommy blog in Pennsylvania."  I didn't find any connection between my blog and mommy blogs, considering I don't have a child, well, I have a dog that I talk to like a child, but that's totally normal. 

I did find a lot of Fish out of Water blogs however.  Like, a ton.  And, it made me feel unoriginal and kinda part of the crowd. 

Hence, the new name of the blog.  Same old url, because I'm not going to make anyone type in everydayhappenings.blogspot.com.  That's insane.  Too long.  Or, maybe I will if it's still available.  I'm not sure. 

K came up with the name Fish out of water, so it is bittersweet to say good-bye.  He is no where near unoriginal or part of the crowd.  It was a good name.  But, I feel like life is changing right now and so, your blog should too. 

I don't feel so out of place anymore.  I feel like I'm rounding a corner and about to embark on life.  Being from Seattle is what makes me special out here and I'm able to include that in my daily life. 



When I was in elementary school, I loved writing.  I'd create chapter books (which, when you're 10, means like 5 pages a chapter, in that really big font, with pictures). I'd come up with all of these elaborate stories and characters.  When I was 10, I thought it would be really awesome to have a story called, Everyday Happenings, even though I didn't know what it would be about.  I just thought that was a quirky name that could mean so much, and for some reason, that name stuck in my brain.  I probably couldn't tell you the name of my teacher from that year, but I remembered that book.

So, here I am, writing.  Not sure what it will be about, and yes, that title could mean so much.  And, yes, that is all so very cliche and cheesy. 

New name, new header, new year.  The holiday is three weeks away, but we're ready to start now. 

I have lots of nursing things to study this weekend, so I must go to bed.  But, there are important things that I must write about too, so stay tuned for that. 

Anatomy of a Weekend

We are quite the family tonight.

Here we are, in the prime of our life. 

The last hoorah.  In an attempt to spend quality time together, we camped out tonight in the basement, papers strewn over the bed, highlighters scanning research articles, laptops propped open, finishing essays and diagrams, while his iTunes is connected to headphones, and mine is playing just loud enough to drown out ESPN's highlight reel and the squeak squeak squeak from Lilly's favorite toy. 

This is our life for one more week.  He types still, while I finished what I needed to do for awhile now.  I continue to look busy because I know he's thinking, "I need to keep going, I need to keep working."  I let him, because we only have one more week. 

Meanwhile, the dog doesn't, and there's that squeaking again.  She can't settle herself tonight.  K just turned away from the laptop and ESPN and said, "I am sitting on four of her toys.  I seriously don't know where she keeps getting them." 

Poor dog, this has been a tough semester on her too. 

We are in the final stretch, and yes things will get crazy this week.  But, we compensate.  Like taking off Saturday and visiting a farmer's market (well, let me rephrase that, the farmer's market), after enjoying breakfast together.  We bought meat and dog treats, how anti-farmer's market is that?  Then, we did some Christmas shopping, and ended up just buying stuff for ourselves.  Every year, K and I buy an ornament, like a really fancy one, and this year was no different.  We found a glittery school bus that represented the year of school: finishing it for me (for now) and starting a career as a teacher for K.  Very appropriate. 

We spent the rest of the evening decorating.  And, to our amazement, we have four ornaments together.  Four years.  How time has passed, as that's what everyone says, but four. Amazing. We have two trees this year,  the big one upstairs with all of the family ornaments, which we decorate a little differently each year.  And, then we have the downstairs tree that is pretty much filled with Lilly ornaments.  She also has four ornaments, and she's only been with us for one Christmas, and that was pure luck. 

There's one upstairs too, how embarrassing. 

The tree isn't very big too, which makes it worse.

I would like to figure out the surface area of the tree and then calculate how much of it is occupied by dog ornaments. 

Our Saturday was just what our tired, worn-out souls needed.  We topped it off with an outing with K's mom, complete with a Williams Sonoma run and Starbucks chit-chat. 

The next day, I was revved up like someone who is not in nursing school.  Seriously, I ran in the morning, I put away all of the things that were sitting outside that would not survive the winter (which I know is going to be just awful, I know it), and then I put up all the outside Christmas lights. And it was horribly cold, which didn't at all compare to the horrible wind. 

I won't post much about that, because I don't want to give away the sight to the parents who will be visiting in nine days.  

It's my job to put the lights up outside.  I'm pretty sure I volunteered for the job a couple of years ago, but I don't mind. It's almost a rite of passage, like making a campfire.  My dad makes the fires at home, and I make them here.  And he puts up the lights at home, and now I do here.  I kind of like that.  We don't have inflatable Snoopy's on the front lawn, but, I think we have a pretty impressive display.  I even wore a puffy vest in lieu of a jacket, cause that's what he use to do too. 

I love the twinkle that emerges from this season.  I love being able to fall asleep with Christmas lights on.  I love coming home from another long, tedious shift and pulling up to the rainbow of lights that outlines our house.  I love that in the deep, dark winter that usually produces deep, dark feelings, we can have so many tiny lights in our lives.

It was an exceptional weekend.  A little taste of what's to come.  A reminder that this time next week, life will be normal again.  Whatever normal we want it to be.   Sunday night was a pivotal moment for me.  Somewhere between my bath on Saturday night, when I laid in the bath and listened to Jay-Z while reading this book (because that's how I roll), and Sunday night after I peeled off my puffy vest and jeans, I went with a thought that I had thought the night before.  I want to start swimming.  Yes, a crazy, unrealistic idea to think in December.  Especially since I had failed to follow through with this thought over the summer. 

A crazier thought to think after a year of lots of work, no play, and lots of junk food. 

Still, for some reason higher than me, I went with it.  I got me a suit, I changed out of my hanging-lights-clothes, and I went to the gym.

And I swam. 

I swam all giddy and such.  The pool was all mine and I reveled in it.  And I discovered that I still can't swim in a straight line, which I thought I would have grown out of.  But, none of it mattered because I was was so happy.  I don't even know how to describe it, but I felt like a different person getting into that pool. I wanted something and I went for it, despite all of the fears or insecurities that I had. 

So, we were quite the scene tonight.  But that's okay because we're totally coming into our own and becoming the people we're suppose to be.  We're go-getters tonight.  We're extraordinary lately. 

Wait until you see us next week.

Two Week Notice

We're in the home stretch, baby. 

In two weeks, life will begin again. 

School will be over until I want to go back again for higher education.  Days will not be split between homework and eight-hour nursing home shifts.  My desk can be used for creative writing and occasional craftastic projects.  I will see my fiancee again, because he too, is in the home stretch, and will not be split between jobs and classes. The dog will run more and there will be spontaneous cuddle sessions on the couch, while I finally finish books that I've wanted to read for the last year, or two. 

And, finally, finally, I will finish The Good Rain.The book that I've been trying to find time to finish for over two years.  The book that I told K, "Oh, let me read it first, then you can have it.  I'll get through it fast."  The book that started at my bedside table, then moved to my work bag for those slow nights that happen maybe once a quarter, and now it's by the couch, just waiting.  Filled with sticky notes that keep record of the best pages, and the most beautiful references to my mountains.  Yes, its a book about Washington.

You know what else I'm going to do?  Pick up where I left off.  With everything.  Especially our wedding.  I took a much needed break from wedding planning last month.  Around November 2nd, and then especially on November 4th, I had nothing to give anymore as far as planning.  I have to-do's to cross off and magazines waiting to be cracked open, but I just lost heart.  Burnout I guess.  So, in two weeks, we'll kick things in high gear again, reorganize, and prepare to ring in 2011. 

And, I'm going to do some crazy things too, like plan the next year's garden, and spend a good chunk of time in Seattle come January.  Watch out! 

Life without nursing school. 

A transitional time.  A time for soul-searching.  A time where I can take my time.  To concentrate on what I want to do with my life, career-wise or not.  It's exciting. 

Too bad that life will begin again in the freezing beginning of winter.

We compensate though.  The family will be out in two weeks and we'll suck up the season together, in the form of Hershey ChocolateWorld, and Christmas movie watching.  We'll play with puppies and bundle up to take walks, and just be.  Without worries, without drama, without things that we have to do.

I feel like we're coming out of a long, hard, bitter winter, and the snow is starting to melt around our world. 

Someday

I'll start blogging again. 

I really like it, I really do.

I worked a double overnight last night, in exchange for my shift to be cancelled this evening.  I did it because I thought, " Oh my God, I'll sleep until 2, then shower, exercise, decorate, and then I'll blog."

Anyways, I'm not going to discuss the things that I did not accomplish in that sentence.  I did manage to wash my iPod yesterday.  So, there's that. 

I've failed in the blogosphere lately.  It's really not my fault, what with school and working and holidays and dog maintenance and all. 

November, where did you go?  I didn't want to resort to last month's tactic when I sat down to type.  I still have one day left (if I post this in under ten minutes) to play catch-up. 

Really, nothing's new.  I will graduate in two weeks (more about that tomorrow), but still have to focus on school and work.  K's still studying 24/7.  Lilly's still eating things that she shouldn't. 



This weekend was a blur, similar to my writing style tonight.  We celebrated Thanksgiving on it's eve, and it was actually calming to have that holiday prematurely out of the way.  Thanksgiving isn't a big deal for me right now, and I know that's crazy since everyone and their sister had "Thanks" in their post title this weekend. 

I am thankful, but I'm also tired and I'm not going to go into it.  Exhaustion.  Yes, that's how I would summarize November.

Watching the dogshow on Thanksgiving. 

I don't really have a theme or a goal with this post.  I just needed to write something.  I've been going crazy not writing.  I've decided that I'll be happy anywhere I go as long as I can center myself, and write down my thoughts and feelings.  So, sigh of relief. 

Thanks for listening. 

My Oh My....tear

                                         
                                           


Seattle lost a great one this week.

The voice of the Mariner's is gone, and a little piece of my childhood seems gone too.  I was a huge Mariner's fan growing up, all starting in the 5th grade when I memorized the entire team of Mariner's....alphabetically.  It started with an inappropriate crush on Alex Rodriguez--don't judge, he hadn't left for Texas and an insane amount of money then, or douched out in New York yet.  Sometimes, having a crush on the wrong guy leads you to greater things and that was the Mariner's for me.  I love their games, even though I don't recall attending a single one where they've won.

 That doesn't matter.

 What matters is memories of going to the King Dome with my family and waiting for fireworks to go off.

 And despising the batgirls because they can't catch a ball but they get to work with the team. 

And sitting in center field with your best friends and yelling so loud that Mike Cameron turns around and gives you a wave. (Or being able to remember that his name was Mike Cameron all of these years).

And writing to the Mariners to please, please don't get rid of Joey Cora because he's the best second baseman ever and where would we be without him.

And bringing K to a game every chance I could get when he was in town. 

And double dating with Tommy and Nettie and finding out what happens when you accidentally (well, not me, it was K) spill beer on the girl in front of you.

And watching the players come onto the field.  Feeling that pride for your city.  Your city.  Drinking in that Americana that baseball on a spring night brings.  Watching the sunset over the skyscrapers and the Puget Sound.  The garlic fries and shishkaberries.  Laughing as the wave is attempted from across the field.  Looking around you and seeing nothing but turquoise and blue, with names like "Wilson" and "Johnson" and "Buhner". Names that the kids don't really know, but you do because you were there.  You got to see them play.  You remember the moments, and the commercials, and what it felt like to be in the city during those years.  You know why the street behind Safeco Field is named Edgar Martinez Drive.

And hearing, "Fly, fly, away" and "Grand Salami Time".

There are moments in life that people ask you about.  Where were you when this happened?  What was it like for you?  Around here, they ask you two things:  where you were when the earth shook on Feb 28th, 2001 ( on the third floor of CK high, thinking a chubby kid was just running down the hall) and where were you when Edgar Martinez ripped that double down the left field line in Game 5 of the AL division series?  I was at Skateland in Bremerton with my grandma and I was watching the game while my friends were skating around the ring.  And, that's how it should be.

I watch that clip, and I'll admit, tears come to my eyes.  That voice sends me back instantly.  To that childhood, that feeling of anything is possible.  That excitement and pride for those men and that city.  And to know that voice is gone, that hurts very badly. 

I am sure that when I am an old lady, things may become foggy and I may not make sense sometimes, but I'm pretty sure you'll find me reciting the 1995 Mariner's names alphabetically in my sleep.

Rich Amaral, Bobby Ayala, Chris Bosio, Darren Bragg, Jay Buhner, Rafael Carmona, Norm Charlton, Joey Cora............ 

Good-bye Dave Neihaus.  I always thought we had the best in our box.  Seattle won't be the same without you.

Perennials and Platforms

I need to stop making empty promises about when I am going to blog.  Or, you need to understand that when I say "tonight" I don't mean that at all.  I've found that when you make promises about posts in blogger, you're doomed to fail.  Don't make goals about how often you're going to blog.  It never works out that way. 

It's been a week since a pretty significant election.  K and I stayed up late last Tuesday and watched the numbers come in.  He's a politics geek and gets rev'd up whenever there is about to be a historical event right before his eyes.  It's endearing. I rushed home after clinicals, snacks in hand, asking, "What did I miss?" as soon as I came in the door.  We stayed up until 1:30, watching colors change on the map, glued to the TV like it was the dramatic conclusion of a heavily anticipated series. 

Coming from Washington state, I was always a absentee voter.  I'd send my ballot in a couple of weeks before the election, all signed, stamped and ready.  And, that was pretty much it.  When I moved to PA, I was forced to vote for the first time at a polling place.   It feels different.  It feels like your number gets put in the running right away, like you contributed instantly.  No, they don't give you a "I Voted" sticker, but its still pretty special. 

The election was a week ago, and people have moved on and started talking about different things.  I like it that way.  I have a problem with the day after effect that has on our population.  The gloating and the despising.  The stereotyping and the name-calling.  Things like, "We took back our country from those greedy, fat bastards" or "I can't believe people voted in those greedy, fat bastards".  Its irresponsible and it gets us no where. 

I take the stand that you should avoid talking about religion, politics, and education at a party.  I treat this blog as my own private party.  So, I choose to focus on the positive and work hard at eliminating the negative in my life.  With that said, I won't spew hatred for others on this blog.  Nor will I embarrass or hurt someone in a public setting in order to benefit my own voice or self-esteem.  I think blogging is a beautiful media, and I'm not going to take it for granted or bastardize it when I want to throw a hissy-fit when life isn't going my way.  This is not the place to do that.  Everyone's entitled to write the kind of blog that they want, but it really does become a true representation of who you are. 

My father always said, "Don't write anything down that can be used against you. Writing is permanent." 

With that said, I've begun the process of shutting down the garden for the winter.  That means planting lots of bulbs.  Tulips, daffodils, narcissus, they're all there.  It's turning into a three, four day ordeal because our sunlight is greatly limited at this point and my knees can take only so much squatting and kneeling on the hard ground.  I didn't get them in before the first frost.  But, they're tulips, what do they know? 

The wind has been blowing hard, and I had to layer-up seriously, but I was still in heaven.  I will miss gardening like I miss the mountains.  I put on dirty jeans and a sweatshirt, and black crocs.  I wear these to work sometimes, and K calls them "You don't give a shit-about-work-today-shoes."  And that's true.  When I wear them to work, I kind of mail it in (you know, without killing or harming old people.)  But, when I put them on to garden, I give a shit.  Oh, yes I do.  That means some serious gardening is about to take place, because I don't care about how dirty I'm about to get, since crocs have holes in them. 

The ground isn't really frozen yet.  It's still damp and covered with crispy leaves.  When I dig, I blog.  In my head, I'm speaking in blog form and thinking about all of the different things that I'm feeling and want to write about.  Like how school is wrapping up and how I'm going to be a RN soon.  And the fact that I don't want to look at a single wedding magazine right now or plan anything.  Or how I want to buy something that transforms my room downstairs, and how I can't find that something. 

Or how I was featured on a blog this week.  Yes, milestone!  A whole post, dedicated to me and about me.  Of course, things always get misconstrued in journalism, and things were taken out of context, but still, I was featured solely on a blog. How exciting. 

And so, I'm digging, breathing in the autumn soil, crackling leaves with my shovel, and thinking.  Thinking about how the seasons and life are converging.  Here I am, working soil that contains left-overs from the summer crops, planting flowers that won't bloom until spring.  How time flies.  How I've lost track of which bulbs I've planted where. Unsure of what the garden will look like that I'm planting. 

What will everything be like in the Spring? 

I'm digging, I'm mourning the loss of my summer garden and of the impending winter weather, and at the same time I'm decompressing.  Decompressing this crazy year, full of the biggest changes I've ever experienced.  Engagement.  Achieving my career dreams.  Losing a grandmother (which I'm not yet ready to blog about).  Losing best friends. Choosing to speak up instead of pretending.  The year of tremendous growth.  There I kneel on the ground, planting bulbs, and using their example as a metaphor for my life. 

We have winter ahead of us.  I'm not sure what it will bring. I'm not sure what more I can take this year as far as change.  Working hard in a garden that won't produce results for months.  Doing the same in life.  Whispering to worms that I uncovered in the cool dirt, "Hold on worm, it's gonna get cold. " Loosing track of which bulb I planted where.  Knowing that the kind of pattern that I planted will surprise me come Spring.

Spring.  What will everything be like?  What will I be like? 

Stay tuned.

Mountain Porn

You know it's going to be a good day when your mountain is the picture of the day on Bing. 
Will post again tonight.

October

I don't know if I've said this before, but I don't take New Year's resolutions in January very seriously.  I mean, really, who is going to make a change in the horrible Winter months? Where is the motivation in that?  And, it's not like you have any time to do anything in the Summer, because most of our goals revolve around bikini fittings, and by that time, you're doomed. 

So, for me, Fall is my New Years.  Yes, I'm sure it stems from the fact that we are all taught at a very young age that the school year is a new beginning.  New pencils. New clothes.  New friends and classes.  It just makes sense to me that the Fall should continue to give us that kind of feeling when we're adults.  That means, if Fall prompts resolutions, then November is about the time where those resolutions are out the window, and we're all, "what? Running?  What's that?"  and dusty lists of well-intended goals. 

October went by so fast, and I don't think I accomplished much.  I will primarily blame this on school, and also on travelling.  Because, when you travel, you have to take a couple days, or weeks, to get your equilibrium all balanced again.  That's what happened.  I swear.  And school.  So I had this list all made up, which included Fall stuff, like tights, and boots, and apples.  I wore none of those, and didn't really eat an apple.  For the whole month of October.  That's gross. 

So, here is October in pictures. 

I picked, and stripped, about a thousand pounds of basil.  I mourned the loss of the convenient summery herb, then I angrily threw a third of the crop away because I was not going to make another ounce of damn pesto.  I filled three colander's worth full, and ran out of olive oil and lemon half-way through.  But, it'll be worth it in a couple of months when I crave mozzarella and cave in, despite past experiences, and buy a tomato from Mexico.  At least the basil taste will be authentic.  I also transported a container of pesto across the country, and was very glad that I double wrapped it in Ziploc bags. 

I pretended I was me a year from now.  All bridal and with a perfect waist-line and complexion.  I walked the aisle of the church that would seal the deal, on a Saturday exactly one year to the day.  And, it was kinda terrific.  I took in the church, it's structures, it's sunlight, it's gem-like lights, because I knew I probably won't be looking at that kind of stuff this time next year. 

I stared at water.  Literally.  Blue, icy water, rippling with the passing of a ferry boat. What did I say before?  I miss mountains more than water?  Or the other way around.  I'll be honest with you, it changes.  What do I despise more?  The tick-infested, "mountain" hills of the Susquehanna valley, or the brown, almost-stagnant water of the Susquehanna river?  I can't decide.  So, I can't decide if I crave real mountains or real bodies of water more.  I got on the ferry and was literally like, "See ya later family, I'm going to go communicate with the water."  So, that's what I did. 

I sent some love to a sick puppy across the state.  Or, we did.  There's nothing I hate more than sick puppies.  Theresa's dog, Maverick, has some kind of crazy autoimmune disease that they're struggling with.  He was lucky to get a doggy blood infusion, and seems to be doing a bit better. Hang in there Mav!

I love how clean the carpet looks in that picture.  Fleeting moment. 

We caught up with old friends at our favorite bar. Which, apparently has a fire place.  Who knew.  We sat on leather couches and drank cold beers by warm fires.  And then they put the play-off game for baseball on.  I hate baseball in October.  I hate how it's always on Fox and it always pushes the Simpson's Halloween episode back to November.  Anyways, it was good while it lasted. 

I fought reality and pretended that this was the beginning of Fall when the air is just crisp, and not cold, and the good leaves are still on the tree.  And then, reality won and I found myself just standing in the back yard, staring at half-naked trees, in desperate need of a jacket.  How dramatic, I know.  It all went by so fast. 

So I compensated.  With flowers on the window sill.  And a Halloween party.

K went as a convict, but he told everyone he was "engaged".  I don't care.  I was a cop.  Convict and cop.  Clever, huh?  Yeah, Randy and Theresa showed up with the same costumes.  Only Randy was "married" ( and Theresa was tall, skinny, and blonde and in a more decked-out costume).  Which, later prompted a very in depth discussion of which kinds of prisons and what level each man was at.  It ranged from life-in prison, awaiting trial, the prison from the Count of Monte Cristo, and psych asylum.  Very good.

The party was dramatic.  We had every room decorated, managed to hire a living corpse for entertainment, and were able to keep it going until the wee morning (people didn't leave until 6 AM!).  Some people don't really get it.  They think it's wrong, or childish to stay up that late and "party" like that. It's good.  It's a good life. There's nothing like listening to Metallica's quietest album at 6:30 am, with your best guys, pondering life's biggest mysteries, and ending the party with this:

We caught up. And, then I made the best breakfast in the world, so boo-ya.

October. 

And, now, I'm ready to go pick some apples.  I told K I want to do something Fall-y this weekend.  He said the apple picking season is probably over.  Damn. 

We can't make all of our resolutions, really.

Seattle, part deux

Where did I leave off? Pike Place? 

To recap: Went to Seattle, almost caused a security crisis at Harrisburg with a black bag, ate somewhere good, found dahlia farm, Mexican food, fire, pancakes, shopping for shoes that apparently don't exist, wedding stuff, Pike Place. 

All caught up?  Good. 

We ended our afternoon in the city at Serious Pie, because I couldn't find Seatown Snack Bar, and I don't really care about non-Tom Douglas restaurants when I have three days to do everything that I can in Washington.  Plus, I have only tried three of their pizzas, and I had yet to sample their most unique pies: the pizza formerly known as Green Eggs and Ham.  They use to call it that, way back when it opened in 2006, which I can't even believe sometimes that four years have gone by in my life.  How different everything was four years ago.  But, I digress....

It was called that because it is piled with some kind of green, like arugula or whatever was in season, thinly sliced Italian ham, and a soft fried egg, on an olive oil based pizza.  When you cut into it, the egg breaks and the yolk becomes your sauce. 

It was just okay.  It probably would have been better if we weren't sitting next to a group of moms who were talking about their kids and how cute they are, and then somehow getting on the subject of one of the boys almost cutting his lip clean off.  And how it was all bloody and just dangling there.  Pizza wasn't great after that story.  I'm a nurse, and I was grossed out.  So, you know it's a bad story when this nurse who has a kinda unhealthy obsession with Tom Douglas food thinks his pizza is just okay.

We drove back to Kitsap county in a hurry because I had dinner reservations at 7.  It was pouring, as it did all weekend (because it's getting it out of the way for next year, right?  Right?!?), and I didn't want to take the ferry because I don't really like the ferry because you have no control of your destiny like you do when you're driving.  Unless it's foggy out, because that's really cool on the ferry.  Anyways, it took forever due to the rain.  We saw three accidents and apparently people there still don't know how to drive in the rain.  Ironic. 


I met my friend Nettie at the best restaurant in the greater Bremerton/Silverdale area, The Boatshed.  We had some catching up to do, after a long, weird year, of, well, shit.  Just shit.  That's the best way to describe it.  We needed to catch up, and make up, and we did it beautifully.  So, now the world is right again and she's back in my life big time and Seattle just became a little more sunny.  Thank you, Nets.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, except for Sunday in which I got to take a nap. 

And I had breakfast early that morning with my mom and her best friends.  It turned into a three, going on four, hour breakfast, in which I became an honorary member of their Breakfast Club.  We brought the dahlias too, so I think the whole diner knew we were kinda special and were entitled to a three, going on four hour breakfast. 

They're pretty stinkin cute too.  They'll kill me for posting this picture, but I don't care.  Bring it. 


I headed back to PA on Monday, but not before a ferry ride over to the city, and a dinner at Salty's.  This was the only sunny day of my trip, and I finally got to see my mountain.  It arrived just in time.  There are visits where it's raining, or overcast, and I think to myself, "OMG, (just like that too, abbreviated) what am I going to do if I don't see a single mountain this trip?".  This trip was pretty close to that kind of experience. But, it showed up.  Well, half of it did. 

See it? 

It was a good trip.  Had it's ups and downs, just like any trip, but it was productive and that's what I wanted.  I got some good food in me, sat in front of a fire, fell asleep to the rain, and blew kisses at my mountain.  I didn't camp in the backyard like I wanted to or play the piano, but there's always next time.  Well, maybe not next time for the camping because I'm coming back in January.  Although, there would be less bears at that time of the year. 

It's good to be home though.  It's good to be back in the swing of things, counting down the weeks until graduation. It's good to be in my bed, next to the snoring dog, who continues to lay as far center in the middle of the bed as she can.  I'm far away from my home and family, but I can still eat Chukar Cherries in the kitchen, and light evergreen candles in my bedroom and pretend that things are closer than they appear.  We'll be back for good someday.  I promise. 

100

I've been putting off writing this post for awhile, because it's a significant milestone, and I didn't want to just write about nothing.  Well, let's be frank, I've put this off for three days. That's nothing.  Most of these posts have been about my dog or my garden.  Or my dog in my garden.  Not so much about me, or about where I came from, or where I want to go. 

That's what this blog was suppose to be about, wasn't it? 

I was seriously going to set goals for myself ala that Julia Child blogger, who's a butcher now, I think. But, who has time for setting goals?  This blog was going to be about Seattle, and how much I miss it.  How much I resented living in Harrisburg with all of it's crappy food and too much snow.  How I'm different from the people here and maybe better because of that. 

And, now here I am, writing my 100th blog post.  Thinking to myself, I'm different, but not better.  I'm from Seattle, but not defined by that, totally.  I'm sitting here thinking, it's far too late to be typing on this computer.  I should be sleeping and dreaming. 

But, I couldn't resist. 

This was another busy week, dominated by school and work, and dogs who like to run away for fun, and fiancees who study too much.  I finished a paper at 1:30, and thought that I was 5 minutes away from calling it a night.  But, it's been three days, and I felt that itch.  I didn't want to wait until tomorrow, even though I have a free evening lined up.  I'm aware that I will have to get up in a couple hours and hand in that paper, but I'm kinda loving life right now, and I want to write about it. 

I was feeling that feeling again last week.  The feeling that the happy part of my brain had just malfunctioned, and the constant blah and bleh was moving in.  Depression ain't no joke people, and I've gotten to the point in my life where I can feel it coming on.  It has it's own aura.  Like, I could hear it coming up the steps and about to knock on the door.  So, I had a couple back-to-back days of just going through the motions and getting through the day.  Unmotivated.  Unimpressed. But, unharmed.  And, just as fast as it arrived, it started to pass, leaving me with the reminder.  To stay vigilant. 

Like a diabetic has to watch it's sugar intake, I have to watch my happy juices.  Especially in a time of crisis that is nursing school.  So, I exercise.  I go outside and stand in the sunshine.  I smell the roses. I cuddle up to dogs, which happen to smell just awful at the present moment, snoring in my ear.   I put on Journey songs and dance in the basement.  Or, this song, which would have been my summer song if I had known about it.  I schedule date nights. I call my girlfriends.  I read this blog, and post like this. And this blog and this one too.  And, if those don't work, I tell myself to just smile and fake it. 

Yet......

I've made it to 100.  So, I must be succeeding. 

It's almost 3:00.  I'm just getting started. 

It's kind of difficult to reveal stuff about yourself in blog form, without reverting to facebook tactics, like "25 things you don't know about me" , or those surveys that we use to email everyone back in high school.  Anyone remember those?  Predetermined questions, which included "who was the last person you said hello to" or "what was the last thing you ate".  We'd fill them out, send them to our friends, they'd make a copy and delete our information, and then fill in theirs.  Golden days. 

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I miss the bathtub in my old apartment.  It was the same size as the one I use now, but I could get my Zen on better in the old one.  It was white, and this one is tan.  My mom probably has an art analogy that she could insert here. 

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Today, some guy that I'm going to marry stole his iPod car adapter from my car.  But, I really wanted to listen to my new music.  So, I took my headset for my phone and connected it, and attached it to my right ear.  Half of me was driving and listening for cars, and the other half was rocking out. 

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All I really want to do tomorrow is get happy hour with my guy and drink cold beer on the cold sidewalk tables in front of an Irish bar.  Which is crazy because I use to hate beer.  He must have Pavlov-ed me or something in the last four years. 

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When I want to recreate those lovey-dovey feelings that new love always brings, I put James Blunt's first CD or Ben Lee's green CD in, and it comes rushing back. 

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Next year, after the wedding, we're going to get another dog.

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In my journal, you know, that striped one that will change color over the years, I wrote:  I dream of-- thick evergreen forests, vacant pools, running, firefly hills, dancing, Italian towns, tanned shoulders, classical music, rainy nights, Larrabee, layers of warm blankets with cool sheets, a hiker. 

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My favorite quote right now: Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.  

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My second favorite quote: "Will you act right so she doesn't think there's something wrong with you?"  a patient's mom, when her little girl was acting like a goofy-nine-year-old.   I love it.  And I recite it in my head when someone is acting ridiculous.   


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I miss the water the most.  And then the mountains.  But, mostly the water.  The rivers, the ocean, the sound.  Hence, the name of the blog. 

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I was seriously giddy earlier in the week because my post had three comments.  Three. That's a new record. Thank you.


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Okay, now I'm tired. 

Happy, happy 100.

Seattle, part 1

We're having a lazy Sunday this weekend.  The sun is shining, the dog is napping by the backdoor, football is on for the next eight hours, and I have a free afternoon ahead of me.  It's one of those afternoons where I can really do whatever I want.  Whether it's making a jump start on the week ahead, or vegging until I've had my fill, the afternoon is mine. 

I actually like Sundays in the Fall.  Yes, in the past I've fussed and made a big deal about the amount of television that's consumed on a day like this.  And now that he has Direct TV with the Sunday ticket, there's even more football around.  But, with most relationships, compromise is inevitable.  So, he can have his Sundays for football, and I can do whatever I want to do. 

So, I'm going to catch up, make a jump start,  and I'm also going to veg. 

Catching up

I went to Seattle a little over a week ago, flying out on a Friday.  The date was technically our pre-anniversary: one year until the big wedding day.  It was kind of surreal.  I kept thinking about how things would look and feel this time next year.  I thought about the upcoming year and all that we'll have to accomplish in order to have the wedding that we want--finishing school, finding our careers, travelling, organizing everything from the opposite coast, finally getting to the size that we want to be.  All a lot to cram into our year, but worth it.  

I had to wake up at 4AM in order to catch my first flight from Harrisburg to New Jersey.  Yes, I know, New Jersey, who wants to wake up early for that?   The flight took off at 6ish, and if you know anything about Harrisburg International (yes, international...they have flights to Toronto) Airport, you pretty much need to be there by 5:45 in order to get through security and on the plane.  So, I went through security, got my bottle of water and magazines on the other side, and sat and waited for the plane (which happened to take off late).   

And I keep hearing the same announcement over and over.  "There was a black bag left in the Hudson News store.  If you're missing your black bag, please return to claim it."    Followed by, "A cane was left at security, if you're missing your cane, please return to security."   All I'm thinking is, what a bunch of freakin morons!  I'm thinking that the next announcement will be something like, "Someone has left their dentures at Starbucks.  If you're missing your teeth, please return to Starbucks." 

Stupid right?  So, I'm sitting there, listening to these announcements, reading a wedding magazine, which happened to be featuring an article on the best cameras to take on your honeymoon.  And at that moment, I jump up, rush to the Hudson News, and claim the black camera bag that I left there about 20 minutes before. 

Yep.  


The rest of my travel to Seattle was fine.  I paid six bucks on the long flight from NJ to WA to watch TV on the back of the seat in front of me.  Best. Purchase.Ever.  I'd have paid 20 bucks.  So, I caught up on my television consumption, was introduced to the first few episodes of Nurse Jackie (brilliant), and breathed a sigh of relief when we approached my city, flew over the Space Needle and Quest field, and touched down.  

The air is different there.  I've probably said that before.  It's cooler, it's purer, it's got, like better oxygen or something.   I don't know. 

Mom and I got lunch in Olympia, at a place that I can't remember the name of, and search engines aren't finding for me.  Anyways, it was good, and the place was nice looking, and I was able to have salmon for my first meal home, so it gets an A in my book.  Check it out.  Ha. 

And then, oh and then.  We went to the Dahlia farm.  The whole reason we're getting married in October is because I want me some dahlias.  But, I didn't want to go through a florist or run down to Pike Place and get whatever we could find.  A couple of months ago, I found a dahlia farm online and we set up an appointment with them for the first day that I came in.   

They had me at hello.

It was one of those fields that I'd want to run to K in.  But I'd be like, "Don't you dare step on a dahlia!" and it wouldn't be romantic and such. 

We met Andy, and his lovable dog Aggie, and just went through the field.  Rows and rows of dahlias in all shapes, textures, and colors.  We told him that we preferred pink and white flowers, but secretly I would have taken anything.  Anything.  So, we walked by each pink and white flower, he asked, "How do you like this one?" and we were pretty much like, drool, head bob up and down. He'd cut the perfect dahlia from each row, hand it to us, and we'd just keep going.  

And then he said, "We give everyone a free bouquet when they first visit us for an order."  Seriously?  Seriously.  We went home with easily 30 flowers. 

Needless to say, we placed our order for next year.  How could we not? 

They work out very nicely. 

Friday night concluded with a trip to a real Mexican restaurant, which is necessary everytime I come home because Harrisburg has awful Mexican food.  You can quote me on that.  

We also had a fire, which was good timing because it rained the rest of the weekend. 

Saturday morning, Mom and I headed over to the city to start crossing stuff off of our list.  The first priority was breakfast at Lola's.  It really is the best way to start off the day. 

People, I had cucumber lemonade.  It is amazing.  Almost as amazing as those pancakes that the Tom Douglas people make.  One thing is for sure, I will be able to tell you what I'm going to eat this time next year.  

The rest of the day was spent doing wedding stuff, which is probably really boring and I'm not going to go into it.  Because, this isn't a wedding blog ya know.  We looked for wedding shoes, but I'm not going to talk about that because we came up with nothing, and I was all set to brag and blog about the incredible pair of pink shoes that I was going to find.  Pink, yes.  But, there was nothing. 

We also went to Pike Place to look at more flowers, order some seafood, and get those mini-doughnuts that they sell at the entrance of the market.  That corner of the market frustrates me so.  People gather to look at the flying fish guys, who are only going to throw something if you buy something.  The gawkers were yelling, "Throw something!".  I hate it.  I'm a market snob, I guess.  We bought some crab and smoked salmon, and then got a dozen each of the cinnamon-sugar and powdered sugar mini-doughnuts.  I want those at my wedding, for reals. 

The flowers weren't bad either, but I already fell in love with Andy's.   

So, that's me catching up for now.  Expect part 2 later this week. 

As for the jump start, I think I'll do some school work tonight, pay some bills, and try to cross a couple things off of the list(s).  We have a busy two weeks ahead of us with school and work, and you know, that freakin amazing Halloween party that we're throwing. 

I'll veg too tonight.  Maybe a hot bubble bath with Ingrid Michaelson music.  Or a walk with the puppy in the cool autumn air.  And of course, the season finale of Mad Men tonight.  Tear, July can't come fast enough!