I ate too much for dinner and then I watched a movie with the cats, on the couch. Jer is on the east-side to meet a friend for drinks. I am listening to the litter robot spin.
There are more things on heaven and earth...
It has been nice to hear my thoughts, but now I think it's time to sleep. I have been getting flack for not returning to the gym. Maybe tomorrow is the day. I packed my gym bag, which is half the battle. The rest is up to my dark master.
I worked most of Saturday, and cooked all day Sunday. I made a spicy tomato soup (my first soup from scratch ever and boy was it tasty), a crock pot full of beans and turkey kielbasa, and a complicated salad involving red onions, celery, water chestnuts, peas, bacon, eggs, tomatoes, and cheese.
I should probably mention that Jer is between jobs right now and enjoying his severance package as well as the Burning Crusade. If you happen to know of any open SysAdmin type jobs in the Seattle area, please let me know. I'd be much obliged.
The only thing truly keeping me sane is how much I love living here. Every morning on the bus I watch the sun rise (or not rise) over the Duwamish, on clear mornings you can see Mount Rainier in silhouette, and the lights of industy glittering up and down the river in a pink haze... makes me wish I was a painter but I'm not, I'm not even sure my camera could capture it properly... That's what I see on the right side of the bus, the left side is the city, all the buildings clustered together against the clouds, past the train tracks and the viaduct... or the shipping yards with their huge ships in dry dock. In the distance, the Cascades, snow capped and obscured by clouds, always clouds.
I'm sort of wallowing in my own negativity right now, and I'm trying not to take it out on anybody else, but you know, I'm not perfect. Air is heavier than normal, steps are slower, colors damper. I carry the fog with me, like a pair of gloves or a hat. But like all fog and inclement weather, it's sure to pass if I wait it out. Or self-medicate.
Honestly I think it's the blue sky that's doing this to me. It's way too bright outside. And I don't trust it.
. Well, not technically this one. The one I bought was from eBay.
This brings my total Le Creuset collection to the following:
I still covet a few items, such as the square skillet grill I have on back order and the tagine (which is better left coveted for now), but I can't wait to jump in and use everything. Unfortunately that means I have to learn how to cook at a higher level than Hot Pockets, Lean Cuisine, and spinach dip. To that end, as I quietly amass my collection of exciting and pretty blue cookware, I have also acquired a library of cookbooks ranging from easy to dangerous, as well as a sizeable backlog of "Good Eats" episodes. Here, I announce to you, that I will begin the arduous and painful journey of learning something new. Nay, embracing a wholly heretofore unrecognizable aspect of my character and accept the family legacy. I will cook. I will cook with my cookware. And it will be good.
I admit defeat, that free will is a sham, and the desire to stew and braise and sautee is encoded in the twisted fibers of my DNA, even as I fought it all those years, even as I lay down my apron and my spatula and deferred these skills to my sister, I secretly wished that *I* was the one roasting things and creating stock. But here I am, some subtle part, slowly and methodically purchasing the tools of my undoing. I wake to find a Salter digital food scale, a flour sifter, a food processor, even a rice cooker waiting patiently for me to rise to the challenge. Infecting my kitchen, like a chef's plague.
And here I am. Tricked into my birthright by a bunch of shiny, pretty things. Where will this madness end?
Along with the good things, there were some bad, like the morning I waited on the street, in the snow, for a bus that never came. (This is becoming a recurring theme which I could do without.) Although if you have to wait 45 minutes in the dark at 6:30am, you may as well do it when it's snowing since it can't be any prettier. Everything was white, my shoes crunched against the sidewalk, flakes clearly fell in the glare of the streetlights, and I stood there holding my umbrella and rubbed my hands together for warmth. Finally, I called my friend, who had given up on her bus already and was driving into work. She gave me a ride. But those 45 minutes will stay with me. The sound of snow hitting the umbrella, a different crunchier sound than rain, watching the cars fishtail down the street, or the lights of the city obscured by clouds, peeking in and out above the bay. Beautiful and cold, freezing actually, lights reflecting off the ground in an eerie yellow glow, and quiet.
I played darts, cricket, for the first time this week. And I won! I didn't even know I could hit a dartboard let alone get several bullseyes. Pool, I'm still not so good at, and bowling I love, but it's probably not my calling. I bowled a respectable 139, but in my salad days I could do better. In the before time, the long long long ago, I won hot dogs for my bowling victories. Maybe I was just missing that as an incentive and if I reintroduce that stimuli I will regain my ability to throw turkeys. Or maybe I just want a turkey hot dog for breakfast. The brain is a mysterious beast.
I'm not sure what the weekend holds. I may work from home, not sure I want to go in today. I may actually let Jer take me bookshelf shopping, or I might not do anything at all. The world is my turkey dog.
Then I ate pizza, then I took a nap, then I watched the first episode of "Torchwood," which I enjoyed. I'm thinking of selling some books back or getting rid of extra action figures. Feels cluttered here. I own too many things.
I'm reading, "In Cold Blood." Maybe I'll go do that now.
Also, thanks to the magic of VPN, I was able to do a lot of my work from in front of the tv at my laptop.
In case you were wondering, still cold.
Not much else to report unless you want to hear about user guides. I'm thinking I'll roast some garlic and melt some brie. Seems like the thing to do.
I hung out with friends at Gameworks last night and then took a cab home. I had to convince the driver to take me all the way since conditions in parts of West Seattle are icy and his company had warned him not to go there. I assured him we were not going to an icy part -- we weren't -- and I tipped him well. I'm grateful it worked out because that was not a night for standing on a corner and waiting for a bus that might or might not show. I did that Tuesday night. My bus was 45 minutes late and I don't think I've ever been so cold. Had to make Jer pick me up. Still feel a little bad about that.
I've got a lot of stuff going on next week, which is only different than usual in that I will be away from my computer at training. Or possibly bowling. If I were a betting gal, I'd say blog content will continue to suffer. Of course that implies that sometimes it does not suffer, and frankly that would be a bold statement to make.
Time for laundry, I guess. Who said my life isn't glamorous? Because it's a thrill a minute, I tell you what.
Basically I'm feeling sorry for myself, which is stupid. Everything is fine, peachy keen, and dynamite. It's just the chemicals in my brain going a little haywire, forcing me into cram mode for self-preservation just like in school when I had a deadline I never thought I'd make but I always did. I work better under pressure... I'm usually half mad from stress and worry, but I work better. No question. More focused, disciplined, but the trade-offs are a bitch.
In college, usually at 4am, after a handful of 15 minute naps, at my laptop typing page 5 of 8, willing the essay into existence, books balanced in my lap, neck strained from reading and typing, empty soda cans on my desk and at my feet, the sun nearly back, the dining commons almost opened, bone weary and hopeless, that's when the magic happened.
No, sir. I don't miss those days at all.
On the bright side, at least I drink now. If anything's going to take the edge off, it's that.
For the same intolerance of sound, I gave up the piccolo one warm California afternoon. And by give up, I mean I hurled it across the room at my mirrored closet doors and never looked back.
Please Mr. Bagpipes, please stop. Or maybe? Nature? Could you rain a little and put out the flames of his enthusiasm? I have many more pages to go before I sleep...
but since it's so close it takes precedence
i swallow
i go to sleep
and my dreams poke until at 3am
i stumble to the sink for a glass of water
dark and quiet not even the cats are awake
i plug my phone into the wall and go back to bed
where the pillow jabs me in the spine
and i stare at the ceiling until
the sun shines
or the bus comes
whichever is first
and the first thing i think is
fuck
We didn't do a whole lot for New Year's Eve. I made the nachos -- refried beans, ground beef with taco seasoning and onions, liquid cheese, shredded cheese, olives, sour cream, guacamole, jalapenos, two kinds of store bought salsa, and chips, lotsa chips -- and watched Law and Order: Criminal Intent. I fell asleep during the Metalocalypse marathon but Jer woke me up to watch the fireworks over the Space Needle. Fireworks are okay, but it's maddening to look down below and see all the people, driving crazy, stumbling around with bottles of champagne, shouting at the sky -- mostly because it's not me -- and the subsequent chaos of hundreds of cars (with semi-sober drivers) attempting to navigate the two lane street that runs along the water. Since I didn't want my new year to start off as a witness in a vehicular manslaughter trial, I called it a night after the fireworks and promptly fell asleep. Horns were still honking and girls were still puking as I drifted into dreamland.
Jer and I started talking about where we'd like to go on vacation this year. Guess we better start saving now. I have expensive tastes.
