Prepared

This is the second Sunday in a row that I've taken advantage of my free time to cook meals, in whole or in part, for the week, and I'm not sure why I've never done it before.

I have two lovely pieces of beef in the oven browning in olive oil and balsamic vinegar; I'm roasting carrots, too; Texmati rice and Inca Red quinoa are on the stove top; spinach and portabella mushrooms are already in a container in the frige. I took care to brown up some chicken breakfast sausage links, and I used the avocado that was in the perfect stage of ripeness to make guacamole. While I was at it I whipped up enough tropical smoothie from a frozen fruit melange to have first thing in the morning (I wake up ravenous, but don't eat my oatmeal and sausage till I get to the office). I still have another portion and a half of the linguini, and I am committed to eating it all tonight. But truth be told, I'm not very hungry. The guac was very satisfying (it was my late afternoon snack). I'm in the mood for a mango and not much else.

Sarah and I packed up my floor to ceiling china cabinet (built into the wall in my kitchen) this weekend, so much progress has been made. In the midst of my food prep extravaganza, I'm also ripping as my many CDs to iTunes as possible so that those can be packed up next weekend, with a few exceptions, perhaps. It's also my goal to pack up glasses, mugs, bowls, plates, and all other pots and pans next weekend. At that point, I'll be transitioning to a lot of prepared foods and paper plates and plastic ware. The kitchen, for all intents and purposes, will be closed till I get to the other side.

Tomorrow after work I sign the lease!

I am so glad that I made the decision to go down to dc even though I didn't have class last night. I have been wanting to have an uninterrupted visit with Devika for several weeks now. We began at the National Geographic Society where we saw the Archipelagos (think sea-life portraiture) and Geisha/Kimono Exhibits. It was fun to walk through the Archipelagos exhibit especially, because we each gave our impressions of what each animal or species was "thinking" or how they came across in the photographs. There was one fish that D said looked like an old man and another, beside that one, that looked more like "playa," and still another that called a drag queen to mind.

Once back at her place she poured me a glass of the most delicious red wine and we chatted while she chopped up garlic and seared spicy Italian sausage for our pasta. Broccolini completed this delicious, rustic meal. Turkish coffee and chocolate croissants were the perfect dessert.

What I love most about our conversations is that there are no gaps! The conversation is so free-flowing and kind of rapid-fire.

I was back home by 9:45. The train ride back was uneventful (which is what one would hope). Now I'm at the office and things have been busy, busy, busy this morning. I'm on day 3 (or is it 4?) of the whole wheat linguini leftovers. It's still good, and I'm proud of myself for making one meal last for the whole of a work week, but it's getting tiresome. I think there's one more helping's worth. I'll have it for dinner before going out to see Sarah's coworker's band perform at Dangerously Delicious Pies.

Mounting "Evidence"

Your Job Dissatisfaction Level is 52%

Well, you don't have the worst job in the world, but it's not great. And don't worry, you're not the problem - your company is. Start looking around for another job, even if you're not totally fed up. Because in time, you're going to be dying to quit!

Should You Quit Your Job?

Clearly, it's another night for tests, tests, and more tests...

Your Five Variable Love Profile

Propensity for Monogamy: Your propensity for monogamy is high. You find it easy to be devoted and loyal to one person. And in return, you expect the same from who you love. Any sign of straying, and you'll end things. Experience Level: Your experience level is medium. You probably have had a couple significant loves. And you may have even had your heart broken. But you haven't really dated a wide variety of people. Dominance: Your dominance is medium. You tend to be the one with more power. You aren't a total control freak in relationships.. But of course you don't mind getting you way! Cynicism: Your cynicism is low. You are an eternal optimist when it comes to love and romance. No matter how many times you've been hurt - you're never bitter. You believe in one true love, your perfect soulmate. And if you haven't found true love yet, you know you will soon. Independence: Your independence is high. You don't need to be in love, and sometimes you don't even want love. Having your own life is very important for you... Even more important than having a relationship.

The Five Variable Love Test

Ha!

You Are an Iced Coffee

At your best, you are: hyper, modern, and athletic At your worst, you are: cheap and angsty You drink coffee when: you're out with friends Your caffeine addiction level: medium

What Kind of Coffee Are You?

Your Love Life Secrets Are

Looking back on your life, you will only have one true love. You've been deeply wounded in the past, and you're still recovering from that hurt. You expect a lot from your lover - you want the full package. You tend to be very picky. In fights, you speak your mind and don't hold back. You know you're right, and you can get quite angry about it. A break-up usually comes as a shock to you. You always think things are going well.

Your Love Life Secrets, Revealed

What today has meant...

Black Cherry Vanilla Diet Coke for the first time; an introduction to Fleming & John; A coworker's wife's induced labor; a close professional encounter with editor boy (proximity, I've rediscovered, is often the culprit of intrigue); me sending out meeting notes; me applying lotion to my hands every five minutes; eating vegetables and a chaste turkey sandwich; coming to the conclusion that if given the opportunity, i'll take the leap...

I looked up Cro-Magnon on Wikipedia this morning because I kept wanting to use it as an adjective, or really, rather more as a simile to describe editorboy's walk. I wanted to type "Editorboy walks like a Cro-Magnon man," but I realized I didn't know if that was actually accurate.

As it turns out, the Cro-Magnon species of the upper Paleolithic period, was a rather graceful iteration of Homo Sapien. Many people, according to Wikipedia, are thinking of the Neanderthal when they say Cro-Magnon.

In any case, I am not stating, by any means of twisted logic that eb is neanderthalesque. But his gait is odd and somewhat primitive-looking. He's not a big man at all, but there's a solidity and compactness to his build (much like the Neanderthal) that calls to mind very early man.

Wow. It really does seem like I'm insulting this guy. I assure you I am not.

Do I need a building to fall on me?

the latest in the announcements of those leaving? my direct manager.

Stocked Fridge

For the last several months I've been grocery shopping piecemeal. A few items one day, a few a couple of days later. Occasionally I'd buy enough for a week at a stretch, but that was considered a "haul."

Before that I shopped the way my mother always did when I was growing up. Enough food for an entire month with sidebar trips to the market as needed in between. There are benefits to both methods, and now I remember why I always preferred doing the "big shop" in the past.

It gives such a feeling of satisfaction to look into one's pantry, freezer, and refrigerator and know that there is plenty to eat and plenty to offer. It gives one options, variety, and the ability to plan way ahead.

Tonight, while watching "Grey's Anatomy" I made a low cal shrimp salad which I separated into two separate containers for lunch two days this week; I browned ground turkey, sauteed garlic, and got the sauce started for tomorrow night's whole wheat linguini meal; I made an entire package of turkey sausage links to go with my packet of oatmeal for breakfast every day this week; I threw out old stuff that I knew I wouldn't eat before the move (including mostly empty bottles of alcohol that had been in my cabinet for at least a year or more); I consolidated condiments. Finally, I had a nightcap of the leftover Naked Mighty Mango and Apricot nectar Sarah gave me, mixed with a little vanilla vodka, and a few cubes of ice to make it cold.

I've unpacked my clean laundry (Sarah's been great about letting me do it at her place since she has a washer and dryer in her apartment); I'm in my pjs, and now at about quarter past midnight I'm ready for bed. And even though I'll get precious little sleep, I'm feeling so settled.
I'm glad Sarah and I skipped the newcomer's reception at church to take care of some practical stuff. I can't imagine how much going would have set us back.

We had a terrific time at Kim's on Saturday. Her little one took to us like a duck to water. What an adorable little boy...and her dog, well, she pretty much won my heart with her desperate need for affection and cuddling. I cannot resist a human or an animal who is unabashed in his (or her, in the dog's case) desire to be near me. Kim is looking tremendous. It was so easy to be with her and talk with her--as though not a day had passed. She and Sarah had never met before, but Sarah loved her. We were there for about 6 hours!

Now I just have to get Sarah and Devika in the same room. I know that will be instant chemistry as well.

Today I'm going to hang out with Jackson's Mom for the first time in about 3 and a half years. We met through the job I had prior to my current one, and we bonded when were both assigned to a crap post at a government agency. Sarah and I are going to drive north and west (??) of Baltimore to see her in her neck of the woods. I am looking forward to meeting her dog, cats, and her son, of course.

Last night I got together with E. We went to Bennigan's for a late dinner (I had a hair appointment right after work). The meatloaf I got was very very good. I never expect much from franchise establishments, so when something is above par, it's really a delight.

While I wait for Sarah to show up I'm listening to Marvin Gaye's "Distant Lover" from the "Let's Get It On" album, which is among my top 5 albums of all time. I enjoy voices that have a little tear in them, something ragged with yearning. He did that so well. The song progresses in such a way that he is losing control of his emotions in increments. The tight melody and harmony hums along in perfect time, then he begins to interject little substitutions and interjections... things like "Lord, Have Mercy," after a verse... but by the third verse, he's taken the leash off his voice all together. He asks this woman, Do you want to hear me scream and plead... plead?

Nobody does it like that anymore.

Obsessive Listening

So yesterday I actually went into the office in lieu of working from home. I still left at about two to meet up with Devika prior to my class (we did Ethiopian food!) for dinner, which was, as usual, a treat.

But while still at the company store editing away, editor boy visited my cube and asked, "Do you like Radiohead?" I indicated that I did, so he handed me a CD he had "incorrectly" burned or something. I know the feeling. You make a mistake on a burn and that's it. No do overs. You throw it out or, and now I know this, you pass it on to your amiable coworker...

This has really been a week for obsessive listening to whatever song is moving me at the moment. I happen to have four or five that I can't live without. Heavy rotation. They are Mos Def's "The Panties" (that's right, the panties, but please note: the song never even once mentions this slightly embarrassing word.), Matthew Good's "We were hunting rabbits," and about three different songs from Leela James's album.

So, yesterday, when I was DC bound and sleeping, after about 15 successive listens to Mos Def's Marvin Gaye-sampled love groove (baby, slow down, we're gonna be here for a while, okay?), I stuck in the atmospheric Radiohead (tres conducive to sleeping)... so disembodied and ethereal. A few times I woke up thinking "who am I again?" and then I would go back to sleep.

On the way back home last night I was too tired to sleep. So it was me and Mos Def again. Him telling me to slow down, take my time, because we were going to be here for a while...

Dear Baltimore,

My unpretentious lover who doesn't shame me when I have spinach in my teeth, teaches me to ease into your straightforward rhythms, find the complications hidden in your facade of accessibility, adore your paradoxes, your humble beginnings; you winning underdog, you post-industrial hovel, your calloused fingertips run the length of my spine, your sure hands at the small of my back hover; Your breath is stale coffee, your lips a smirk that so easily form a kiss; you chain-smoking, disenfranchised day laborer with cuffed jeans and a black skull cap; you sad bastard who loves the untamed wildness in me that I've held back, pushed in, and stuffed up...so large, lousy with loose ends, mad with cursed yearning, what I want to say is it will never be over between us...

I didn't, as I told myself I would, finish my paper for class this week; I did, however, organize all of my papers and handouts for both classes. I also read over my syllabi to to get arms around the balance of the semester, and I formed a mental outline for some upcoming assignments. I also revised one of two poems I need to turn in this week. I'll start the paper during my lunch hour today and it will be ready to turn in on Wednesday.

This balmy weather put me in such a fabulous mood that I could not wait to get to the gym after work yesterday; I practically ran all the way to the rec center. And when I got there it was all zone. I went for an extra little walk around campus afterward.

A coworker of mine, this time someone who is crucial to our team's success, has accepted another position and so will be giving her notice today. I have been very invested in this process on her behalf as I gave her a peer reference and was unconflicted about doing so. She has a tremendous work ethic. But I do wonder how this news will go over...

You know, I'm past certain things. But I still have moments, that sometimes last for the better part of the day, in which I'm aware of a phantom pain in a phantom limb. Absence is a presence all its own.

About a year ago, when I was in the thick of my own personal grief--when it was impossibly fresh--I had an epiphany: There would come a time when I would not be in that raw place of mourning, when I would care less than I could imagine possible, for this person, the hopes I attached to him, and the sadness of that leveled me more than my feral sorrow over dashed dreams and urequited love.

More often than not, now, I'm aware that this point of true detachment looms ahead. And I am not of the mindset that I should avoid or delay it in any way, but...

it is still crazy to me that after all of everything.... 'everything' simply being the friendship, the parts of it that were pure and good (and I can still see such parts of it, though they are elusive and shift in certain kinds of light.), that he is among the names and faces of men I no longer wish to know.

I finished Henry James' The Beast in the Jungle. I may have judged him as "a big bore" too quickly. I found that I was impatient with the circuitous syntax and the heavy-handed language, but I can see now that this jumbled, beating about the bush form of expression mirrors the protagonists thought processes. It's a clever little piece, but all the same, I don't know that I'm ready to read any other James works in the near future.

I decided to e-mail guy number 2 of the casual message/no photograph fame. I essentially wrote to thank him for his kind remarks and for his note, but stated quite frankly that I would need to to see a photograph and know something more about him before I would be able to determine whether a correspondence is something I'd want to invest in. I explained to him that he currently has the benefit of knowing what I look like and something about me (based on my now defunct profile on Friendster), but that I didn't have the same benefit.

I actually have peace about the whole situation now. I didn't feel right about not acknowledging him at all, but I also couldn't let him think that he was going to get the benefit of some e-mail discourse with me before I can determine some basics. I've heard nothing back at this point.

Well, I'm off to Annapolis for the day! And then later church. Gosh, but it's gorgeous out!

New [to me] Music.

Big love to Sarah for hooking me up with a couple of new[ish] songsters. She brought over Ray LaMontagne who has traces of Otis Redding and a little vintage Kenny Loggins (that is pre "FootLoose" Kenny Loggins) in his voice and Leela James, who is the female Anthony Hamilton, whom I adore and who also has a new album. Definitely listen to any samples that are available on these sites. If you like soul with a little country thrown in (in LaMontagne's case), or soul with a little black Baptist church, and some arresting beats (in the cases of James and Hamilton), then you'll like this stuff.

Oh, and major props to Leela for doing a No Doubt cover ("Don't Speak") r&b style while totally maintaining the song's integrity. I have always believed that music, like people, is spectral... it all flows from one origin point. The various expressions are nuances and textures, but it all goes back to one place, and the more of the different genres you listen to, the more you can hear all in the one.

"I assume you're referring to women's troubles..."
--Mr. Hall in "Clueless"

This is not a post in which I, your faithful Kate Krupnik, will give too much information. Not my style. Suffice it to say, there are times when my emotions get the better of me and I do things like cry during poignant scenes of a syndicated "Judging Amy" episode; become irrationally, principally angry at a person I don't know for something like the inherent hypocrisy of not posting a photo on a Web site and then hitting on me because he likes my photo (that is hypocritical, but my response is probably inordinant); essentially, the bear in my heart wakes up from its nap, and well... let's just say I'm not fit for company.

Now then, moving on from that.

For a number of practical reasons I'm not DC bound today, and that just feels weird. But I know I'm going to get a lot of work done, both personal and business-related. I have so much reading to do for my non poetry workshop class, and a paper to write, and so much packing. Hopefully next Thursday the weather will be as lovely as it is today so Devika and I can meet for Ethiopian food under ideal conditions. Neither of us likes the cold.

Listening to Ella Fitzgerald is good for me. It's hard to be an irritable bee-yatch with that buttercream pearl voice swirling around you.

Unsolicited

Yesterday I got not one, but two e-mails from perfect strangers wanting to know if I'd like to get to know them better. The first was from a young man who found my profile through my e-mail provider, the other from one of those networking sites that I'm only on because a friend invited me to participate. I literally never go to the thing, and I certainly don't send people I don't know messages seeking friendship or any other type of relationship, so it's easy for me to forget that I have it. Anyway...

The first guy was, how shall I put this...? Overzealous. And all of 26. He provided some height/weight specs and padded his missive with CAPS and exclamation points!!!

It all adds up to: Um, no.

The second man, to his credit, sent a much more casual note, but did manage to work in some important details. For example, he has a house that he likes to work on in his spare time. And... he used a somewhat non-cliched word to describe my smile, which will not yield him a date, but did get him a few points from the editor in me. No picture, though, and no specs.

It still all adds up to: No

I decided, a few months ago, against meeting a potential romantic partner via the Internet. It's just not my speed. In addition to the fact that everyone who is looking to date via services like match.com, EHarmony, etc., seems really desperate to me; I never find that the kind of man I want to meet is the kind of man who wants to meet me, based solely on a photograph.

And while these two gentlemen from yesterday meant well, I'm sure, hearing from them was disheartening. Am I being totally unrealistic? Is it wrong to think that I can have the kind of man I'd really want to be with? Or, is it time I realized that guys like the overexuberant 26 year old or this 38 year old who didn't post his photo on a photo-driven site, are as good as its going to get?

Snuggly

After a long workout I came home and started dinner then got into a really hot shower. I ate dinner in my bathrobe with a towel wrapped around my head. At some point I'll put on some pajamas, but I'm enjoying my current outfit for the time being.

I'm essentially biding my time until the Sex and the City reruns on TBS at 9...but I'm so tired I might not make it through both episodes.

The Case of the Missing Sausage Links

My Glad container, with a post-it attached, was sitting on my desk this morning waiting for me. Essentially, a much-liked coworker of mine had brought in sausages a few weeks ago, thought mine were they, and that they were old, and tossed them. She asked to be forgiven and noted that she owes me lunch. I e-mailed her and told her that I am a) relieved that this was an honest mistake and not a theft, and b) that what the sausages work out to is about 3 dollars--by no stretch of the imagination a whole lunch.

I'm very glad that the note I sent out yesterday asked a question about my food and didn't make an erroneous statement. Even when an assumption is reasonable, it still may not be right. Yesterday I was convinced that someone stole my food, but I didn't want to come off as a loose cannon anger ball in an office-wide e-mail, so I tempered myself. Because I took that tactic, I didn't inadvertently make someone who made an honest mistake feel worse.

All's well that ends well.

Um...

so someone stole some food of mine from the fridge. I sent out as non accusatory an e-mail as possible asking about its whereabouts, but yeah... gone.

This is what it's like after you leave a place

Remarkably similar to the way it was before you left. I've wondered, in the past, "what was the office at my old job like the day after I walked out the doors for the last time?" As someone who has seen a lot of coworkers come and go in the last three months (including one more today--leaving of his own accord for greener pastures), what always amazes me is how the steady hum of CPUs, the constant clacking of keyboard keys, the slow drip of the coffeemaker, and the swish of trousers and khakis as people quickly walk down the hall to get to meetings, does not change one iota. And if anyone misses the departed, there is no indication. Within a week's time, they barely remember so-and-so who used to sit by the printer. Someone else starts shouldering your responsibilities and pretty soon no one can remember a time when that person didn't do your job.

It may be different in more specialized professions, but at the company store, well...

This is not a sad post, by the way. It just actually helps me to know that someday in the not-too-distant future, I'll be moving on, and that no one here will miss a beat because of it. There's an appropriate sense of detachment in that.

There is the scene in Jerry MaGuire where the office is suspended as he makes his awkward good-bye, a timid Renee Zellwegger trailing behind him. No one moves a muscle. And as soon as the glass doors shut behind them, the drones return to the frenzy without giving any thought to what just happened, because they don't have the luxury of overanalyzing one man's and one woman's departure.

Nowhere to run, Nowhere to hide....

If you're not into the pomp and circumstance of the Academy Awards, but want to relax in front of the television on the show's big night, there is literally no escape. Sunday night is usually slim pickings in TV land, but I cash in at 10 p.m. with Grey's Anatomy. Not tonight. Preempted by the pomp and the circumstance.

You would think the other networks would try. The WB, for its part, is serving up an edited, bleeped-out version of "8 Mile," which could be a contender for those who a) haven't already seen it, and b) don't mind watching a bleeped-out version of a film that has enough curse words that the bleeps could drive them bleeping crazy!

I took a little break from packing to watch three films at Sarah's place that I'd been meaning to see: "Elizabethtown," "In Her Shoes," and "Walk the Line." All of them were entertaining. "In Her Shoes" was better than I thought it'd be (I read the book, which was fine, given the genre), but "Walk the Line" is definitely worth seeing. It begs the question, though. Were there no music powerhouses that didn't have a major drug addiction at some point in their lives?

I did skip the happy hour yesterday. As it turns out, the coworker who was fired was let go on reasonable grounds--not based on his performance, but based on certain improprieties. Arthouse Cinema wanted to leave anyway, so his decision to make yesterday his last wasn't impacted at all by that news.

As for me, I had groceries I wanted to deal with, boxes to bring up from my storage unit, and I was really in the mood to go out to dinner with Sarah--and the overall mood of my company is still what it is, so I couldn't muster up the good spirits to join them for drinks.

I'm pretty proud of all I was able to do last night in a relatively short period of time. I brought up the old computer I want to give to charity (some files have to be removed from it beforehand), all of the kitchen appliance boxes I saved, and other boxes that can be put to general use. My apartment, at this point, is ready to be broken down.

Preparing for a move, as I've discussed before, is actually a lot of fun for me. And I like unpacking, too, and so do it fairly quickly. The unsettling part is that time of limbo before you've made the attachment to the new space and figured out how things need to be in that new space.
After two years my current living space has definitely taken on a shape, and my things have a personality in this apartment that will change when they are housed elsewhere. I always find that some of my stuff looks foreign to me when I first unpack it. And I feel foreign, too.

Well enough of such maudlin preoccupations. I have to rise up and meet the day.

Two more people have left the building

I returned to work this morning to find out that a coworker got the ax yesterday. This person was not on my team, or technically in my department, but he worked closely with us on many projects--including a very recent one. I can't imagine what happened, but his dismissal has caused a good friend of his, a one Mr. Arthouse Cinema, to decide to jump ship as well. Arthouse is not a vested (read: permanent) employee and has never wanted to be, so he's cutting his losses. He was just telling me a week or so ago that he saw his time here coming to an end. When they sacked his friend, he decided that now is as good a time as any, I guess. I just got back from his good-bye sushi lunch. No one in authority yet knows that he won't be back. He's going to lower the boom at the end of the day.

We are supposed to have a celebratory happy hour this evening for having completed our last big project, courtesy of the upper eschelon, but I hadn't been feeling it. I came in this morning already having decided that I was not going to attend. I think this clenched it.

I feel like a zombie. I got in at midnight last night and went to bed almost immediately, knowing full well that when my alarm went off at 5:30, I would wish I was someone else. Brutal. It doesn't help that I am too keyed up to sleep on the train on the way home. I tried to read some of Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" (for my short story class) on the way back, but I couldn't focus. If I didn't have a morning meeting I would have seriously considered calling in sick.

The best part of my Thursdays, as you all know, is my visit with Devika. Her hospitality is wide and deep. She prepared a delicious meal of breaded chicken breast, her famous version of macaroni & cheese (with gruyere!), and aspiration--this delicious, but slightly trippy vegetable hybrid (broccoli that aspires to be asparagus). Upon my arrival she presented me with a perfectly chilled glass of white wine, and we got right into the rhythm of invigorating conversation. Nothing is idle or wasted with her. Just pure substance. Honestly, I worry that I'm talking too fast sometimes, or talking with my mouth full (I had seconds of everything last night!) because I am so enjoying the company and the food. When you are with someone so generous and so well-balanced as my dear friend, you find that it changes the cast of everything else, too. As for me, I feel that I open up a bit more and feel free to embrace my penchant for sensuality. The specific smells of foods, the sound of deep, unguarded laughter... the heat and swirl--the rich taste of the Turkish coffee or Chai she makes. When a friend prepares to welcome you with love, the only response is to be greedy, and just take it all in. It's the appropriate return of such lavish, extravagant generosity.

And this woman is whip-smart and funny and I leave her feeling like I can go to my often less-than-stellar class because my tank is so full.

I am really going to miss this place

It's a lovely, overcast Thursday morning. After my workout I came home and ate some lacklustre organic oatmeal with honey and set about my work day. Two hours later, I was famished, so I went up the block to Old Faithful to get a house omelette (spinach, cheese, tomatoes, and sprouts) that comes with multi-grain toast and seasoned potatoes. I saved the toast though, and got a carrot ginger muffin, instead. A cup of black coffee and I was on my way...

I gotta tell ya, I'm a real winner sometimes, people. I took the trouble to buy some chicken cutlets, green onions, and portabella mushrooms to make for dinner last night (with Inca red quinoa, and spinach, maybe) but forgot to take the items home! I left them here at work in the fridge, where I know they'll be fine...but yesterday a coworker offered me a ride home, which is arguably so much better when one has groceries to transport.

Now today I have the added complication of having to go to the bank on my lunchbreak to get some money out to then take to the leasing agent. It's a bit of a headache because my debit card has a limit on how much money I can take out within a 24-hour period (and I am grateful for the cap; I get that it protects me, ultimately), and I need more than I can withdraw via ATM... so, anyway, I am sure that this will involve at least one cab ride. But if I can get this all dealt with midday, then I can just go straight home from work, with my chicken that I won't have time to cook because it's a class night...

This is what being occasionally forgetful can do! Totally derail the best laid plans.

But... this is the time for perspective and rallying.

1. I had and have the money to buy food.
2. I have a job at which to forget said food.
3. I have this "headache" of having to go to the bank because I got the apartment!
4. As one who almost never takes a full-on lunch break, I am entitled to a slightly longer lunch to run an errand.
5. After this is taken care of, I can move on to other things!

Minor glitch, all better now...

I mentioned, in rather cursory fashion, Devika's and my less-than-stellar server from last week. Turns out he wreaked more havoc than I thought. He charged my card for my half of the meal and the total bill as well. In all likelihood he made the error, then voided the charge, but no matter, because it caused about 35 dollars of my money to be held in abeyance for a couple of days. I called (both the bank and the restaurant) on Sunday when I noted the error, and I was told by the bank that they could do nothing until Tuesday morning (of course they had already assessed me a 35.00 fee in anticipation of the overdraft the errant charge was going to cause) by which time the charge would either have been posted or removed.

The manager at the restaurant was slightly more helpful. First of all she was appropriately, but not cloyingly, apologetic. Then she researched the error and called me back with details. She let me know that from her end it seemed that the incorrect charge had been voided, and that it should clear by Tuesday (on this point California Pizza Kitchen and my bank agreed).

In any case, I looked at my bank statement first thing this morning (it's direct deposit pay day) and saw that only the correct charge had posted, but that my bank had not removed the Non Sufficient Funds Fee. So I called them. And the rep grudgingly refunded the money after explaining to me that this was not a bank error, but a vendor error (I'll refund it this time, she said).

I tried to explain to her (calmly and rationally) that that being the case, she could still see that the errant charge had not posted to my account, so the 35.00 fee I'd been assessed needed to be removed. It never got ugly (I am committed to staying rational on the phone with business people; you catch more flies with honey. Also, it's just immature and counterproductive to alienate the person who may be able to help you.), but I also don't think we saw eye to eye on why the ball was squarely in the bank's court. Either way, I got what I needed from them.

The point is this: If I ever have that server again, I'm going to pay in cash.

Answers to Prayer, etc.

I found out today that my application for the apartment was approved. I even established with the leasing agent the fee that I will pay to secure the place; it's a very good scenario that will leave me with some savings/seed money for financing movers and other necessities for the new apartment.

I also got a lead on another junk removal service. In looking at the University newspaper classifieds online I scored a phone number. The phone estimate is free; I plan to call tomorrow.

Now I'm busy making lists, sending e-mails, planning the dates of execution for key benchmark events, such as: "Place ad in Gazette to sell television" (I'm selling to buy a newer model); "Call phone company to establish land line" (I'll need one b/c of the secure entry system at my new building); and "Get boxes." Things like that.

I only accomplished three items from my Moving Schematic today. Welcome to Kate al a Type A Mode. I'll be in overdrive for the next two months, but really I thrive on having an event like this to plan. I'm really in my element.

Published!

Check out this article ("Dad's Gone AWOL...") my alter ego wrote.

Moving Schematic

On Saturday, after a successful breakfast date with my old friend and after the leasing agent at the apartment for which I'm applying came by to get some documents from me (long story short, I stopped by her office on Friday to give them to her, but due to a snafu, she wasn't there), I met up with Sarah and a friend of hers for coffee. Then she and I drove to Value City Furniture to purchase and arrange for delivery of some items for the new place. I got the overstuffed chair that matches the couch and loveseat I got two years ago, a curio cabinet, a diningroom set, and an end table that matches the one I already have. The new space will have a very cohesive, uniform design in place, which is nice.

I found out, incidentally, that I should know by tomorrow afternoon if my application is approved. Tonight I drew up a "Moving Schematic" to help me get arms around all that I have to do in order to pull off a successful transfer of households. I did an online estimate for junk removal, but have decided to nix that. It's 134 dollars, minimum, for them to come out. It's not worth it for three pieces, I feel. I'll have to figure out another way to dispose of them (a bookshelf on it's last legs, a too-small desk, and a small tv shelf).

Other than that, I am looking forward to "Grey's Anatomy" tonight. It's my favourite show right now.

Breakfast

I'd lost touch with a longtime friend I met during undergrad. Lately I've been thinking about her with some persistence. Eventually, I started to dream about her. I knew it was time to drop her a line. Or something.

In about 13 minutes we are getting together for breakfast at the One World (where else?) to catch up more extensively. We did an admirable job over e-mail earlier in the week, so at least we won't be going into this meal cold, but I do wonder how things will go. This is someone that I used to consider my best friend in the world--I lived with her for a couple of years after college, as well as one year during, but I had often felt judged by her, and it undermined our closeness over the years.

We have been, for all intents and purposes, on very good terms all this time. And the trouble spots in our friendship have been acknowledged, to an extent, but I continued to struggle with anger toward her for crimes both vague and specific. Our losing touch over the course of the last year or two has been incidental to the demands and pressures of life--grad school and work for me; marriage and work for her. But I wonder if the time I've taken over the last year to do some self-evaluation will enable us to start again on more level footing. I'm a very different person than the last time I really sat down and talked to her. I bet she is too.

Yesterday was a day for making the train against all odds. I thought I'd miss the 2:45 train to DC because I had an appointment with the leasing agent at 2:30 to hand over my application, sign forms, etc., but I made it with about a minute to spare! Then, because two people, including me, didn't have poems last night, we got let out early. So, I got the 8:40, not the 10:45, home.

But before that I had dinner with the lovely Devika. We enjoyed cocktails, soup, salad (for her), and eggrolls (for me) at California Pizza Kitchen. Our server did not understand timing, or the nuances thereof, that are necessary to help the customer feel unrushed, and that the meal is being well-paced. He took soup I wasn't quite finished with (he didn't ask), and then later asked if I was done with a plate of food that I was obviously still eating from.

Anyway, the delightful surprise of the evening was that the adorable Monito made a cameo appearance, surprising both Devika and myself at the restaurant! We were just about wrapping up dinner when he arrived, so we settled the check and parted ways with him at Starbucks, where Devika and I stopped for a cappuccino before my class.

I could go on seeing her at least once a week for the rest of my life!

Oh, but check this out. I think that kid from my class last year, the one I went on the "date" with, might still be nursing a little crush on me. He's also in this workshop. I'd let my guard down a bit since he's made such a big deal about his woman friend being so into him and vice versa. Maybe she's his imaginary girlfriend....

Hi, Space, it's nice to meet you; I'm Location.

The apartment I saw yesterday has all the antiquity and charm I admire, and is in a location that is roughly equidistant to work and the university, and the square footage for the price is amazing. And the space is really the selling point, because there is no dishwasher, or other new appliances included, but I'll forego a dishwasher for about double the space (both bedrooms are huge!) at only 30 dollars more a month than I'm paying now for this adorable matchbox I live in.

At this point, I am of the mindset that I'd like to move forward. I plan to take over my application today.

Here are the known pros:

Secure building
Vintage building (built in 1906)
equidistant to work and school
will cut my daily bus fare by about a third (one bus will get me to work now; no connection)
I can walk to my hair salon and many other excellent places from the locale (like the train station)
SQUARE FOOTAGE (1295 sq. ft)
Onsite management
Heat is included (it usually is in these older buildings)
The price is right

Here are the known cons:

No longer across the street from my gym
No longer have immediate access to the One World

Let me just tell you how good God is...

I realized that that appointment tomorrow morning was too soon after my appointment this afternoon for me get any sort of process underway. I would still be in the position of not knowing enough in order to take a step in any one direction. So I prayed that God would delay (or cancel), somehow, the proceedings with the people I was to see tomorrow morning.

I just got a phone call.

the appointment I had for tomorrow morning has been pushed back a week! They won't have all the paperwork ready by tomorrow, and I really can't comfortably do any week day except Thursday because I work from home and have the flexibility to run errands, etc. Anyway, having an extra week will do one of two things for me:

1. If I like the place I see today, I'll have time to apply, get approved, and move forward with that leasing agent in plenty of time to cancel the appointment with the other realty company on March 2nd.

Or

2. If the place today is a no-go for whatever reason, I'll have time to pursue something else altogether.

Either way, when I could not, no matter how many pros I listed, make myself feel okay about the one place, I prayed that God would make a way for me to know, conclusively, if it is His will for me to live there. I definitely see this turn of events as an answer to that prayer.

I saw a semi charming apartment in Charles Village last night. The rental rate is good given the location, but the space is too small for me. I'm looking to spread out, not contract. For those of you who pray, please pray that the place I am seeing today at 5 will work out. If you don't pray, per se, then send out loving vibes and good thoughts if you can!

I've realized something: My apartment search, in many ways, mimics my "search" for the perfect mate. Not that I'm searching now so much, but it is quite similar to that process as I've experienced it over the years. Of all the places I've seen, I can honestly say there was something about almost all of them that would make them convenient or pleasant in some way, but the feeling you get when you know has been missing. And that is crucial. Even that first place that I loved so much, but just didn't/don't feel quite right about...I have an appointment on Thursday morning to see that place again and potentially put down a security deposit on it. A large, for me, sum of money, that would hurt to lose. Maybe now I know how a woman might feel when she's on the verge of marrying the wrong man...

What I am hopeful for is that by the end of my appointment today I won't need to keep that meeting because I will have found my new home.

In Good Faith...

I reserved movers! April 22nd is my move date, come what may.

Valentine's Day/Presidents' Day Happenings

Sarah and I made the decision to exchange trinkets (inexpensive presents) for Valentine's day this year. Since her breakup with Michael, we've been trying to keep things that have the potential to get heavy and burdensome, light. So we set a 30-dollar limit way back in January for a mini gift exchange on Feb 14th (or thereabouts). We didn't get to open up our wares until this Saturday night (the 18th) when we got together, but it was so fun, almost better than Christmas, because there wasn't all this pressure to break the bank on mad crazy loot, yo.

I loved everything she got me! Three pairs of socks, two in the argyle style; A cocktail shaker (with a rubber grip, Devika will know what this means! No lost alcohol!) with an Anne Taintor illustration on the front; a milk frother; a mouse pad with an illustration of a dog that looks just like miss Babygirl; a children's book on not being rude (it's to help me with attitude adjustments when I get snarky :) ); a fantabulous set of drinking glasses that feature major world cities; and last but not least a pink& brown starbucks mug and gift card!

Other than that, I took off on Presidents' day (my company observes MLK's b-day instead) to deal with apartment stuff. I saw two places, called a few more, and set up some more appointments for later this week. At this point, it feels safe to say that I will know where I'm moving by Friday.

Also, got a nibble on a resume I sent out. Pray/send out good vibes. It's time for some things to shift!

Reorienting myself helped tremendously. I felt significantly more balanced yesterday; it helped more that I decided not to pore relentlessly over the classifieds for the time being. It's about putting one foot in front of the other. And my weekly visit with Devika did wonders for replenishing my soul. Some people just make you feel enriched when you're around them; she has such an enjoyable spirit. Completely non-toxic!

I'm a little tired from the train haul back home, but none the worse for wear. The Weekend is here again...and there's no snow in the forecast that I know of....

The antidote to a restless spirit...

is praise and communion. In the Bible there is a story about two sisters. Mary and Martha. They are two sides of the same coin--one of them represents acts of service, the other, contemplation and enjoyment of God. Fellowship with him, in essence. At one point during the Parable in which Jesus is visiting these two sisters, Martha, the "doer" complains bitterly "Lord! Tell my sister to help me. Don't you care that she has left me to make all these preparations alone?" Mary had simply been sitting at Christ's feet, talking to him. Jesus very compassionately replies to her "Martha, Martha, you are worried about many things, but Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken from her."

The point of that story isn't that one doesn't have to do things, or that is okay to shirk one's duties, but more that practicing the presence of God--enjoying him through worship, praise, prayer, and communion prevents us from getting to that place of bitterness where our duties and obligations are concerned. And what is more, that it is far more important to draw near to the spirit of God than to do anything. For the Christian, our most important business is the business of our relationship with God.

Lately, I have been frazzled. So turned around that I am incapable of focusing on any one thing, because I have so much on my mind. Today, this really started to wear on me, and I began to crave intimacy with God, to just be in his presence. I simply wanted to steal away to a quiet place and free myself of all distraction so that I could enjoy him.

After class I came home and began to listen to one of my favorite worship music albums and lit some candles and incense. I made a cup of peppermint tea with honey, and just let the simple rhythms of the music still me. And I found, again, that God is always waiting for me to draw near, and that when I do, he is right there to meet me.

What is this? Greul Gruel?

In order to compete with the likes of Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, and other specialty/organic markets, I've seen a lot of chain grocers step up their game by including organic sections in their stores. I was at one such chain recently and bought a box of Organic Instant Oatmeal, and it tastes awful! Somebody needs to go back to the drawing board on that one...

FAFSA

I finally dealt with finacial aid stuff for fall 2006-spring 2007. Fortunately, I did this tonight because it had been unbeknownst to me that tomorrow is the deadline for part-time students (at my university anyway). Now all I have to do is mail and/or fax the info to my school's financial aid office and I'm done. Now it's up to them to give me aid or not.

I was supposed to go to the gym tonight, but opted to hang out with Sarah for a bit instead. By the time I got home, I thought, "I guess I'll do FAFSA." It's always good to go with your instincts. If I hadn't, I would have been under the impression that I had oodles and oodles of time to get this finished.

I am so psyched. I just downloaded The Beastie Boys' "So what'cha want" from iTunes. I had forgotten all about that song until tonight. Hearing it still puts me in the best mood.

I was able to rule out the place I saw last night in mere seconds. Actually, truth be told, I was hoping I wouldn't like it, because it is farther away from campus than I'd like. I really want to be closer in to the city proper.

In any case, one of the tenants showed me the space because the landlord is hard to reach...all the time... I wouldn't say it was a pit, exactly. Actually, it has the potential to be a very lovely space, but structural damage made it an absolute deal breaker for me. The rent could not be beat and now I know why. It seems that the last tenant moved out a year ago because she got tired of asking to have repairs made. That was all I needed to know. I was in and out in less than five minutes.

Well, so I know my apartment is still out there. It's waiting for me and I'm waiting for it...

Irons in the Fire

This morning, after getting to work an hour and a half later than usual (weather-related complications), I hit the ground running. I prepared notes for a meeting, I started editing some new material, applied for a job, sent out some e-mails to friends, and sent out yet another apartment-related inquiry. I've started feeling an urgency around finding new work as intense as the urgency I feel about getting a new place to live. Tonight, after work, I'm going to see an apartment in a house in the Roland Park area. I don't have a gut instinct about it right now, but I think I'll know one way or the other after I see it.

The weekend, snow aside, was pleasant. I spent Saturday and Sunday with Sarah, as per usual, and we ate some great food and watched one really excellent movie, "Hustle & Flow." It's not something I was overtly interested in seeing at first, but my interest was piqued when I noted that it was up for a few prestigious awards. In any case, it was available at the video store on Saturday before the deluge of white really hit, so we snapped it up. I am so glad I saw this movie. It has a very important message to communicate, and does so while using the most base examples of humanity, while remaining compassionate toward those archetypes. I really appreciated it.

So much for fiscal responsibility...

I forgot the tuna sandwiches. I even told myself "now don't forget those tuna sandwiches, because then your efforts will be moot." I realized just before the bus pulled up to Penn Station that my dinner was still in my fridge at home. So I'd have to get a quick, hopefully cheap bite out once I got to Washington. Moving on.

I didn't do too badly until I was waiting at Union Station for that last train home after class... I went into Starbucks for a green tea and just happened to notice that they had oatmeal raisin cookies (my favourite) and the new Beth Orton CD...

Today is a new day, so I'm just going to take it from the top. (Honestly, I might need a 12-step program)

One Reason I know My Attitude About Money Is Changing...

Because I am not meeting Devika before class this week (sadness!), I knew I would have to figure out dinner on my own. I'd already made up my mind to treat myself to a starbucks purchase of some sort, but I was vacillating on where to get dinner. Then an idea hit me. I could make some tuna fish, throw together a couple of sandwiches, put them in a plastic container, and be done with it. Economical and easy. Now that luxury coffee drink won't seem so extravagant.
As someone who loves to eat out, the fact that I was so excited to realize I could just make something... well, I think it's tantamount to a sinner turning from her evil ways.

Grace

is drinking coffee out of a red mug; is plans going off without a hitch; is being saved by the bell, is a safety net; is jazz on a sunday morning; is a hug when you least deserve one; is a gerber daisy, fully open whether the sun is shining or not; is the joy you feel when it's one of your closest friend's birthdays... Happy 31st, my Catchka!

Observations on Editor Boy (as he shall henceforth be known)...

He wears his pants about 3 sizes too large. I've noticed this phenomenon among a lot of men who are of a medium build (or smaller); they buy pants (khakis, usually) that are meant for a much larger man. Is this perhaps because they just grab a random pair of pants off the shelf and buy them without trying them on?

P.S. I've always wanted an excuse to call a man 'Editor Boy.' For a while another coworker was pinch-hitting by working in an editorial capacity in addition to all his other responsibilities. I called him Disgruntled Editor Boy.

I have a new colleague, also an editor. Today is his first day on the job. So far he's asked good questions and seems to have a solid grasp on things. In truth, I wouldn't be surprised if he's a better editor than I am. Often, I am bored by my job and a little too restless to really focus. Editors shouldn't be restless; they should be relentless in the quest to correct errors. I'd be a good content editor for books and magazines, I think. Not the comma splice kind who looks for erroneous punctuation, which is more like what I do now.

I've got a lead or two on the apartment front. I dreamt for the last two nights about living in one of the apartments I saw on Friday, but I decided that I needed to cut my losses and not hold out hope for something unrealistic. Something better could be right around the bend, and I don't want to miss out on it because I'm still stuck on the first thing I saw. I've done that far too many times in my life.

Rain & Fog

I saw three apartments yesterday. They each had something charming, advantageous, and desirable about them. Each unit I saw is a bit more expensive than I should really commit to, and the security deposit is 1.5 months' rent. And they are all available now. I'm not in a position to proceed with anything until the end of March at the absolute earliest, but the middle of April would really be the most comfortable, financially.

But the thing is this: I so want one of the apartments I saw, in particular. I can see my stuff in it. I can visualize having people over to it. I can imagine the life I want unfolding in that space. And I feel defeated because I probably can't have that place. I keep trying to think of a way to justify it, and I'm coming up short.

It is my hope to use movers this time around, but I might have to forfeit that convenience as well. I had forgotten that many places require a security deposit that is at least one month's rent. I have been fortunate so many times to have been able to pay remarkably less due to specials or promotions, so I just wasn't considering that element of the process. Money I had earmarked to have perfect, professional strangers convey my things to a new locale may have to go to a leasing/realty company instead.

Sarah and I rode all through Charles Village last night writing down telephone numbers off of "for rent" signs, then came back to her place and looked up Web sites and numbers of other places in my part of town. After a somewhat defeated afternoon (or so it felt), I called a couple of buildings/listings, to no real avail (I got put on one person's list to be called "should anything change"). The next month or so will be all about calling around, pounding the pavement, and hawking Craigslist and the City Paper. Somewhere there is a place for me to live that will meet my needs and not bankrupt me. I just need to realize that I might not be able to have everything I want, but I can get close, perhaps.

High

I'm in such a good mood I'm useless. I cannot make myself focus on minutiae. In addition to the leftover good vibes from my visit with Devika and my anticipation regarding seeing apartments today, a coworker just told me I look skinny! I was going to the gym today, anyway, but now I can't wait to get there.

Also I'm listening to disc 1 of Prince: The Hits. His song "Adore"just gets me.

Tickets, Please

Okay, I've realized something. It is nearly impossible to tear myself away from time with Devika. Tonight she had me over to her apartment where she served me a delightful apricot martini (I had two actually!). We also enjoyed spinach salad with orange slices, toasted pine nuts, and balsamic (vinaigrette?) dressing. The mushroom pizza was absolutely delicious. My only regret is that I didn't get to finish my Turkish coffee at the end. It was 5:55 and I had to get going! We both tried to be mindful of the time and we were, but people, you have to understand. I never get to see her. For most of the years I've known this woman, I've never seen her twice in one year, let alone twice in the space of one week. Spending time talking to her is so comfortable and so enjoyable that I almost wish I could just skip class. Maybe I will once...

More good fortune. My prof gave me a ride home again tonight. I had gotten myself all psyched up to wait for that late train, but was spared the agony of the 2-hour lag. This afternoon as I was heading into DC via the MARC, I slept off and on. How can I describe sleep on a train? For me, it's complete surrender. A total rejection of the self-conscious preoccupation with the details that make up my life that usually compromises my rest.

Well honey-pies, tomorrow I do my first round of apartment inspections. I don't know what the future holds, but I'm getting up out of this matchbox.

The Pleasures of Working from Home

I work from my apartment every Thursday, for the next several months anyway, and it is the best. I begin with a 6 a.m. workout, which gets me all amped up for the day. After showering and eating breakfast, I'm online with access to work e-mail, files, and all the other systems and modes of communication my officemates have at their disposal....without having to be there.

When I get the urge to make a smoothie at 10 a.m. or so, I do it. I just go make one. Today I'm roasting stuffed chicken thighs (sides of white corn and spinach) for lunch and planning to take my lunch break in front of the television for Judging Amy on TNT at noon.

Now what I need is to set up some sort of arrangement where I can do this everyday without having to work at all. I get so much done in my personal life when my job is not an issue. Notice that this 50s-era photo features a woman who is home without any kids. I would love to be a stay at home wife. Once the kid came I'd hightail it back to work!

(please note: I respect stay at home moms very much. This post is in no way meant to be a statement against that choice. I'm simply acknowledging that it takes so much more to be at home with children than home alone on your own terms with all the time in the world, and is in essence a very real job on its own.)

Literary Integrity

I've held off commenting on the James Frey Million Little Pieces debacle because, well, I wasn't really sure I had an opinion about it until now.

Here's what I think:

I think he should have had the forethought to include a comprehensive author's note prior to printing about the intermingling of verifiable fact and literary license. In my mind, this is his main error.

With that said, I'm going to come out in defense of the man on one point. As a current student in a writing program, I can tell you for a fact that the memoir, as a genre, has become a very fluid concept. Frey is in no way the first author to take the seminal events or main structure of his life and render it with ficticious overtones, to replace facts with more "true" events that keep to the essence of the story, more than actual events would. In many cases, novels are written as memoirs, and the blurring of categories and genres is very much en vogue in literature. As is the genre I call "conjectured memoir," Girl with the Pearl Earring comes to mind.

I believe firmly in the adage that "facts are the enemy of truth,"at the very least, that facts often undermine the point a writer might most want to convey.

In this past semester alone I worked on a short story that is about 40% true in terms of actual events and 100% true in terms of the emotional connotation the piece renders. I don't know why everyone (the literary community and readers alike) is acting like this is some great scandal.

A point of impropriety and a lack of foresight, I grant you, since one disclaimer would have prevented all of this. But let's ask ourselves:

How many memoirists have, in relying solely upon memory, distorted the facts of their personal history and not been caught? Do we really care? We live in a time when most people are doing their damndest to do away with absolute truth anyway, so this outcry seems a little hypocritical to me.

I know. For some the point is the intentional fabrication of facts. I'm not saying I'm okay with that. I'm saying the man shouldn't lose his literary credibility for this misstep. From what I understand, he's a gifted author who told a compelling story, at the center of which were true events, true things about his struggles with drug addiction. Subsequent printings of his book will come with a note. There. Moving on.

I'll say this. If I were him there's no way I would have reappeared on Oprah. From what I understand, she was merciless. And I understand that, too. Her credibility is also at stake.

He who tends a fig tree will eat its fruit (Proverbs 27:18)

I love figs. When I was a girl my stepfather and I had an understanding. Fig newtons were the symbol in our limited lexicon for "I'm sorry." When he wanted to apologize for some parental misstep, he bought me my own pack to eat and enjoy.

I didn't know then that the cookie portion of the treat was not part of the fig. I saw it as one entity. The fig newton.

A little later I got it. The thick, sensual layer of goo was the fig. It stood to reason. That is the best part of that concoction.

As an adult I've had the great fortune to eat at restaurants that serve wonderfully appealing plates with sumptuous sauces--fig reductions, balsamic glazes, and the like. But I had yet to eat a dried fig, all by its lonesome, until a few days ago. I ate almost the entire bag of them in the space of three days. And now I'm on my second bag, and I cannot get enough of the poetically named Black Mission Fig.

The scripture that functions as the title of this post has always meant a lot to me. It's part of the lexicon I share with God where his promises to me are concerned. Several years ago now I poured my heart out to him about a specific fear of mine. The fear of always having to sacrifice, of always having to sow what someone else would reap. And that is the scripture I came across as I was praying.

Literally, figs are mine in abundance. And I'm certain that the metaphoric, symbolic answer he was giving me in that passage is in no way undermined because he has also chosen to fulfill the literal implication. He's such a poet, creating both tenor in vehicle in one fell swoop.

Karma

You all may remember my moment of uncharacteristic bravery with a gorgeous cafe-goer some months back. If you don't feel like clicking the link to revisit the past, I'll sum up in short order:

Before I left the Seattle's Best Annex of Borders one late fall evening, I took the time to tell a fellow patron that he was beautiful and that I just wanted him to know that. The important part of that incident for me was not this excellent-looking creature, but me, feeling that I had the right to say something to him about it. I didn't want his number; I didn't need him to say anything. I simply needed to tell him. I rode the high for a week afterward.

Tonight, after a low-key, very adult-feeling happy hour with C and A at Pazo, I came home and quickly assessed that I had no dinner fixings. The tapas at the restaurant would not be enough to hold me over for the whole of the night, so I realized I'd have to call on my old friend the One World Cafe.

About 10 minutes after placing my carryout order (tuna sand on multigrain bread w/wasabi mayo and a small hot chocolate), I walked up the block to retrieve it. While waiting at the counter for the cashier to acknowledge me (he was on the phone) another young man appeared behind the counter. Based on his apron and the style of his pants, he seemed to be kitchen staff--perhaps a line chef. In any case, I thought for a moment, after he said "excuse me," that he wanted to help me, so I started to tell him my order, but he very tactfully stopped me and said:

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to tell you you're beautiful. He'll still be the one to help you [indicating the counter man who was still on the phone], but I just wanted to tell you that."

I thanked him, truly taken aback, but pleasantly so. I immediately thought about the fact that I didn't have on any lipstick and my hair had run the day's paces and looked like it had been through the ringer. Well. Maybe not that bad, but certainly not freshly coiffed. And still he said that to me.

There have been a handful of times in my life when a man's comments about my face or body have made me feel like garbage, though I knew he perceived his attentions to be positive.
And there have been a handful of times when a man's attentions have felt like a deposit into, not a withdrawal from, my spirit. This was one of those times.

I'm reminded of Bjork's song All is full of love. Things come back to you, always, eventually.

All's Well That Ends Well

The form I needed arrived! Thank God. Taxes are all done and can be e-filed tomorrow (updated form that cannot be processed till Feb 1). Again, hats off to my best friend-cum-accountant, Sarah.

Tonight, after work I am meeting up with an ex-coworker and a current coworker for happy hour here. In keeping with my new quest to be less capricious with my cash, I'm going to exercise restraint. I've looked at the menu, and it's entirely possible to get out of there spending less than 20 dollars, which for a place of that caliber, is probably only the case during happy hour!

I'm in full planning mode now. Starting to think about painting my new place. What about a bedroom that has creamy coffee coloured walls, with one chocolate brown accent? If I manage to swing a second bedroom, I'm thinking a nice warm pumpkin colour for that (not orange. pumpkin. there's a difference).

Death & Taxes

My accountant, Sarah, started helping me with my taxes this weekend--and because my university does nothing with any expedience, I still don't have my 1098-T form, which will help determine my refund (Education Tax Credit). It's stressful, I tell you! I just want to go ahead and file and be done with it, because my application for aid for the Fall of 2006 semester is utterly contingent on my tax return info...

Oddly enough, the great state of Maryland may be giving me money this year. Usually I owe them some minor ducats (somewhere in the range of 4-30 dollars).

In other news, I did make some headway with my program on another front. I confirmed with the department co-chair this morning that the instructor of my choice can serve as my thesis advisor (the dept. co-chair swears he wrote me to this end before, but acknowledged that the e-mail may have been misrouted). And with his approval, I can take an "extra" course in tandem with my Thesis & Publication class to meet the 2-class minimum requirement to get financial aid. All of my required courses will have been taken (and must be) before I enroll in the thesis process, but I'll have to pay for that class out of pocket unless I take another course as well. The government won't lend you money unless you're at part-time status.

In any case, things are looking up.

Vintage Coffee

Still a major poetic trope in my life. So much more than a beverage, the hinge of my conversations, the olfactory quest, the perfect accompaniment to jazz, to tragedy, to happiness, to work, to rest. It goes with everything--the metaphor of my landscape. I could write an ode to the way it rushes up to meet the cream--the way, together, they make a tumultuous cloud of violent swirling before they give in to each other.

After a delightful Sunday in which Sarah and I met a mutual friend at Fazzini's in the suburbs, we made our way down to Caribou coffee in that place in between city and suburbs, and I sipped a truly mediocre cuppa. A shadow of what java should be.

And I realized that all a mediocre cup of joe does is make me long more deeply. In some ways, even a bad coffee experience is still all right. There's always the hope of the perfect cup...

First steps toward financial integrity

Starting a savings account (as I post) via phone!

Easy Peasy

I loved seeing Devika prior to my class tonight and look forward to many more meetings through early May! My train commute, thanks to my mix, was the appropriate combination of introspective and arty. The 3:30 is an express, so we made it to DC in about 45 minutes. Train travel still connotes such tortured, beautiful longing for me.

This poetry workshop is going to be enjoyable; I can feel it. I had an immediate sense that the exchanges will be beneficial and governed by a kind of poetic simpatico. This was also the case last night in my "The Short Story: Past and Present" class. Maybe I'm just used to the way things work now, but in both cases I felt like a duck in water. I have my bearings.

And if all that weren't enough, My instructor was able to give me a lift home tonight because a prior commitment of hers wasn't in effect this evening. That beat waiting around for the 10:45 train and not getting back to Baltimore till midnight!

Oh, and I made an appointment to look at three apartments next Friday! Progress.

Blue Train

Today, for the first time, I will trek down to Washington, DC for the poetry workshop class I'm taking (putting myself through the hassle for the sake of finishing this M.A. in good time) this semester. In honour of the occasion, I've made myself a CD compilation. If you'd like to add The "Blue Train Mix" to your Itunes playlist, the songs are as follows:

Blue Train (Coltrane)
Light Enough to Travel (The Be Good Tanyas)
Sweetest Decline (Beth Orton)
Fill Me In (Craig David)
#41 (Dave Matthews Band)
I Thought About You (Ella Fitzgerald)
Couldn't Hear Me (Eric Roberson)
Luxurious (Gwen Stefani)
Plane (Jason Mraz)
Paris Train (Beth Orton)
Change Clothes (Jay-Z)
Let's Get Lifted Again (John Legend)
Jet Lag (Joss Stone)
Hejira (Joni Mitchell)
Mona Lisa (Nat King Cole)

What Would Audrey Do?

Well I'm in a pickle. I have some outstanding debt and my own financial folly is the cause. I've called up the company with whom I'm in the deepest and set up an aggressive payment plan. I have to live on a budget for the foreseeable future, but what am I to do about my highfalutin sensibilities? Good-bye iPod dream. So long digital camera wish. Sayonara eating out. Adieu taxi cabs...

Thunder

That settles it. This is the best January ever. There is a thunderstorm underway as I type. I'm taking pleasure in lots of little things lately and it's extremely liberating. I am truly happy about this weather.

I think I may have eaten too much tonight. After working out for about a half hour I came home and heated up leftovers, but I also had to make another meal for lunch/dinner tomorrow and after said meal was done, I had a little taste of that too. And I finished off the mango sorbet. I wouldn't say it was piggish. Not quite.

Am Feeling less overwhelmed. I made a list, which always helps.

Is it wrong that I'm over my current tube of toothpaste and plan to switch it out for the new Colgate Vanilla Mint that I bought? I'm not out of the current tube (several brushings' worth to go), but I'm over it. I love the taste of the vanilla mint. It makes me jazzed about brushing my teeth. Like love to do it if I can use that stuff...

Okay. I'll save the rest of the lacklustre Crest for an emergency. I won't throw it out. Thanks. You really helped me make a good decision there, blogging world.

All right. Time for bed.

I feel Overwhelmed

I need to find a place to live by the end of March, at the latest. And ideally, I need to find a new job. But that can wait till May. Maybe.

Learning to Be Content In All Situations: The Gift of Singleness

Don't worry. This isn't going to be one of those posts. I'll begin by telling you, dear reader, that I have more often than not seen my single status, not as a cause celebre, but a curse. A hairshirt. I, as someone who is supposed to be trusting God for everything, have often felt that he was holding out of me in this area. It has been a sore spot between us in the past. Maybe it will be again. I don't know. But I do know this. The Almighty does not do clenched fists. Pride cometh before a fall. You don't step to him with an attitude, etc. He's a loving father, but he's not about to let the likes of me punk him.

What I mean is that I've often felt in my heart, deep down where it really counts, that God owed me for my less than idyllic childhood. I wanted him to pay me back for everything that I lost or missed out on. Not trusting him to do it in his time, but in effect saying, "Fix it or I won't bow my heart before you."

Let's take this out of the realm of the divine for a minute.

Have you ever had anyone approach you from this place of arrogance? What was your reaction? When someone talks to me like I owe her something, especialy when I don't, my gut response is "um, just who do you think you're dealing with here?"

God is not a human being, but he's relational, and the laws of relationships are at work when you talk to him. Frankly, I know his patience is inexhaustible because I alone am exasperating.

In any case, I've been bellyaching for a long time about everything in general, but specifically about the fact that I'm [insert age here] and still without a date, let alone a boyfriend or husband. Then after kvetching, kicking, and screaming, I internally throw up my hands and say, in effect, "fine, I'll take care of this myself!"

My efforts haven't yielded anything to write home about. ever. I usually give up, affect a "zen" posture and say "che sera sera," but I've never really meant it until now.

My brief foray into online dating (online perusing, more like)sealed the deal. Everyone is so freaking desperate and most of them don't have anything to offer. So I asked myself "is this what you want?" The answer is no. I examined the road ahead and it was just miles and miles and miles of the same bleak terrain. Pointless e-mails. Men I couldn't even bring myself to pretend to want to meet for coffee, let alone dinner. I wasn't hitting my target audience. Even EHarmony.com told me that their service could not match me. Not that they couldn't match me at this time. They just couldn't match me. No further explanation.

One night, suffering from a bout of insomnia, I was reading the archives on an old acquaintance's blog. And he said that he came to a place of organic acceptance regarding his lack of a mate and found peace in that. It's not that he didn't want to meet and marry the right woman, he just stopped striving.

Let me tell you something. You can't stop striving until you're tired of striving. Even giving up has got to be an authentic place you come to after you've worn yourself out.

So I pondered these things in my heart and realized that I've been spinning. Doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result, which I've heard is the definition of insanity.

My prayers changed to:

God, help me to be grateful for where I am right now, for how things are right now. God, thank you that I am single. Thank you that this is what you are doing in my life, now what do you want me to do? Thank you, Father, that you were faithful to reveal in time that all of the men I've wanted in the past were not your perfect will for me. I know you have a plan for me that is perfect, and whether it includes marriage or not, I know that it is good because you are good.

And then I laid this burden down. And the gigantic chip on my shoulder.

I made it to the office, for just over half the day. I was home by about 1:15. I just started to feel exhausted and in danger of overdoing it, so I gathered up my things, pleased to have made it through the bulk of the day. It was so good to see my coworkers again, two of them in particular. And I got some good work done.

Once back on my couch, I flipped through the latest O magazine and watched the daytime schedule of syndicated shows I came to count on to buoy me through the worst of my flu or whatever it was. I fell asleep somewhere in the middle of the first Drew Carey and was out until the end of the second one. I dreamed I was walking with my father on an errand to pick up pizza for everyone back at our vacation house. But he was so overcome with hunger on the way back that he just tore into the box and began wolfing down the contents. Watching him, I realized how starving I was. This caused me to wake up and go to the fridge to grab a yogurt I purchased from Whole Foods earlier this afternoon. I continue to be intrigued by how the body will find a way to tell you what it needs--how resourceful it is.

I haven't had time to comment on my very emotionally productive time with Victoria last Saturday night. It was validating where the relational angst of the last year is concerned. Details aren't important and wouldn't serve my goal of discretion, but I can say this. It's good when someone knows just where you're coming from and can support you without compromising her own position on things. Thank you, God, for noble friends.

Cabin Fever

I may finally be coming out on the other side of this...thing that had me in its tenterhooks. Obviously I won't be going into many details, but I will say that the overarching theme of this illness was the way it crippled my will. I didn't have the usual haze, the jaundiced lens that superimposes itself over the world when I'm sick. I just couldn't seem to make anything happen much. If I wanted to watch a "Judging Amy" rerun on the TNT network at 12, I had to start actively thinking about getting out of bed at 9, so that by 11:45 I'd be situated on the couch with the remote in hand. Or I'd be thirsty for hours before I'd finally manage to get a glass of water.

In any case, I think I've turned a corner b/c I just got back from what was supposed to be a quick errand, but that turned into about a half hour walk and I felt so invigorated! Now I'm going to have some mango sorbet.

I'm trying this food thing again.

Back Home

I'd been at Sarah's from Sunday night until just about an hour ago. We planned for me to come over that night since we both had MLK's Birthday off work. Of course, we couldn't have planned that that night I would come down with a surprisingly tenacious stomach bug (surprising b/c I'm often able to shake a bug of any sort in 24 hours or less). Being at Sarah's place did give me someone to take care of me, which is no small thing. For most of today and all day yesterday I sat in her comfy chair with the heating pad attached to me, on "high" virtually non-stop, while she went off to work. The food I've eaten is negligle (Saltines, chicken soup, the usual suspects)but I have tried to hydrate.

At one point this morning, I walked to Sarah's neighborhood Safeway and bought about 30 dollars' worth of medicine and medicinal supplies. I thought I detected the beginnings of a sore throat--which for those who know me, know it is my own personal kiss of death. Not much will get me to a doctor, but I start mobilizing when my ability to swallow is compromised. I couldn't tell if there was yet another illness lurking, if my current one was morphing into something else, or if it was just ambient pain. I took some DayQuil, which seems to have tamed the beast for now. But if it persists, I will so be going to one of those fast-food type clinics for some antibiotics.

Anyway, I'm back home now, and while I am still decidely under the weather, I am what I would call a high-functioning invalid. I may try going in to work tomorrow for half a day. It's still too early to tell.

Top 5 Reasons I Know I'm Starting to Recover from The Stomach Bug

5. Stomach cramps fewer and farther between

4. The mere thought of eating, at some point in the future, not nearly as disgusting as it was 24 hours ago

3. It occurred to me to resume my reading of Steve Martin's Shopgirl

2. I put on lipstick (after bathing, washing my face, and moisterizing) and tried to do my hair

1. I had the strength to blog

Remember the day I unintentionally stiffed a cabbie?

Well, as I prayed would happen, today I encountered that driver again. After a wonderful breakfast of scrambled eggs, capers, lemon infused cream cheese, smoked salmon, and multi-grain toast, I walked to the cab station at the hotel that's just up the block and got into a taxi. Inside of 10 seconds I recognized the driver and made up my mind that I would pay not only this days's fare and a tip, but that I would give him what I owed him for last time.

I just wasn't sure what I should say to him, so I barrelled forward and asked him if he remembered driving me to work one morning in early October. After giving him some of the details, he did remember, and told me that he knew it had been an accident. I assured him that it had been and told him that I prayed I would get the opportunity to make it right.

I gladly gave him what was rightfully his when he dropped me off at the hair salon. What a gift to be able to make something right. What a gift that he had thought the best of me even when my mistake had been at his expense.

Tremendous!

the last day of the hardest year of our lives

A Foggy Day in Charm City

Cold Humidity. So gorgeous. Clouds that stop just short of touching the pavement. I've just had a scrumptuous breakfast (veggie fritatta, sausage, and oatmel w/ decaf coffee & whole milk)--I'm always so ravenous in the morning, and I think that lifting yesterday amped up my appetite even more. I'm still nursing the coffee and I'm starting to think about tidying up my cubicle.

After all the goings on here at the office over the last several weeks I am relieved that my manager will be on vacation all of next week. So glad in fact, that I almost wish Monday were not a paid holiday, because I want the full benefit of 5 solid days without that vibe around here. But I comfort myself in the following way: said manager will not return until Wednesday of next week, so after all is said and done, we'll have more than a week of peace.

Tonight, after work, we're all heading over to a local place for happy hour in honour of our fallen comrade (coworker who was railroaded into quitting, essentially), and then I will go to the gym. Tomorrow morning, off to the salon! And then I see my good friend V. It's all about little ports in the storm.

S. N. A. F. U.

So, our company switched to a different payroll system, which means we were issued live checks this pay period (today); direct deposit was not available (for this check only) for those who participate in that system. What this meant for me was taking half a personal day so that I could go and deposit my check into the bank. Except the date on the check is tomorrow's date so my bank wouldn't touch it.

I thought, initially, about just cashing it at the company's bank, but felt so defeated by the date barrier that I assumed no institution would process this check until tomorrow. I went home, ate lunch, and went to the gym.

And then, a surge of empowerment. I walked to a neighborhood branch of the company's bank and got their paper turned into cash (for a five dollar service charge, but it was worth it to me at that point). Tonight while I'm out to dinner with Sarah I'll put the money into an ATM. It should be available immediately since it's going in as cash. Rest assured I will be calling the good people at my banking institution tomorrow and making sure that's the case.

On the way back from the bank I stopped in at Carma's Cafe (a coworker just mentioned it to me the other day) and got a delicious skim, decaf latte. While there I bumped into my poetry workshop instructor from fall 2004 (whose class I will have again on the dc campus starting week after next); she didn't recognize me. Because I "usually wear a hat," she said. I think she was registering the weightloss differential and didn't want to run the risk of offending me...or, she knew something was different, but couldn't quite put her finger on it.

In any case, the snafu is back to just "s. n." (situation normal).

More of these things. Yes, I am bored, why do you ask?

You Are an Officelady!

It all seemed so blissful at first. Wear cute little suits, meet friends with matching suits, get a small salary. Well, you're going to be making copies for the rest of your life, and a good raise is not in your future. And forget about marrying out of this glass cieling! What? So you can make coffee at home and wash your husband's underwear? Gross!

What's Your Japanese Subculture?

Slow and Steady

Your friends see you as painstaking and fussy. They see you as very cautious, extremely careful, a slow and steady plodder. It'd really surprise them if you ever did something impulsively or on the spur of the moment. They expect you to examine everything carefully from every angle and then usually decide against it.

How Do People See You?

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead... But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself. You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place. You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

How Machiavellian Are You?

For the record, I hate the colour lime green...

Your Power Color Is Lime Green

At Your Highest: You are adventurous, witty, and a visionary. At Your Lowest: You feel misunderstood, like you don't fit in. In Love: You have a tough exterior, but can be very dedicated. How You're Attractive: Your self-awareness and confidence lights up a room. Your Eternal Question: "What else do I need in my life?"

What's Your Power Color?

You Are Likely a First Born

At your darkest moments, you feel guilty. At work and school, you do best when you're researching. When you love someone, you tend to agree with them often. In friendship, you are considerate and compromising. Your ideal careers are: business, research, counseling, promotion, and speaking. You will leave your mark on the world with discoveries, new information, and teaching people to dream.

The Birth Order Predictor