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.