girl at large

How could I have forgotten?

I'm not much of a music person--years of knowing too many audiophiles that trumped my knowledge and belittled my cheesy taste kept me from openly listening to my favorites except on the rare occassion that one came on the radio in a rented car. I just don't get music the way that other people do, though I do enjoy it, I feel inferior in my understanding of it. I've been told that my preference for stereo settings is beyond bizarre, but hey, I hear the way I hear it. I think I'm overly sensitive about it, that I want to understand music the way I do visual life, excell at it the way I do speed reading, etc...Music Appreciation is the only class I failed (not on purpose and not including P.E.). But I'd forgotten how much I enjoy a good, retro tune, something that brings back a memory (why is all memory of highschool age associated so strongly with music?). So, that said, OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS iPOD THINGY! It's a bit daunting though, it holds 500 songs. After Foreigner, that leaves something like 492 songs....

Having a car is a dangerous thing. It leads to seemingly innocuous trips to innocent places like Target. The only things on my list? Black socks, new underwear (as opposed to old?), and a mop. I really needed a mop. I haven't been to a Target but twice in the past three years. Dripping wet (forgot my umbrella), visually overwhelmed, I must have looked like I needed assistance as I wondered down the shiny aisles. "Can I help you find something m'am?" M'am? Oh, god I must look a fright; old, wet and dazed with a wobbly cart. Quick, where am I? Electronics...ok, sound hip; "Um, yeah, where are the iPods?" I bought an iPod Nano. I still really need a mop.

Despite myself.

Damn it, I'm happy. Portland, more clearly than ever after some time in Smogville, is becoming a very liveable, enjoyable city with lots to offer. My job is good, I like what I do and I seem to not suck at it. I've had the chance to travel to see beloved family recently. Friends have journeyed here to see me. My dog still greets me with enthusiasm. I'm not painting, but I'm ok with that--it will come back, when I have the time and inspiration in the future-and I like that, I like that it's my little thing to pull out when it pleases me and me only. I have friends all over the world, most of whom keep in touch regularly with stories of adventures great and small. My little apartment is looking like a proper home, only a few projects remain and who wants to be short of home improvement projects anyway? My health is good; a good friend just the other day said I look great, that despite what I say about living here, it must work because it looks good on me. Ha ha. I think I finally let the boy go, so I'm ready for the next new boyfriend (that was only five years in the making). With the good job and new wheels, I have new freedoms to enjoy and adventures to plan. I was even recently paid to write about my crocheting hobby (and the resulting bersitus). So, I'm good, I'm ready..bring on the next big thing! Ok, so it's good here. I'm happy. Damn it.

In the eye of the beholder.

The jaunty angle of the melted antenna on my new (used) car is 'sporty', people, 'sporty'!

it's all about the comparison...

Ok, so I've been now to Los Angeles. Portland? .....Not so bad!

I did too.

Rumor has it that my brother Tom enjoyed my visit.

breakin' in

I drove my new (used) car more yesterday, visiting friends in L.A., than I've collectively driven any car in the last two years. (cross-country trip excluded). Having to find your way in Los Angeles, capitol of cars, is a great breaking-in for the newly reinitiated to driving. I no longer mind at all that the Jetta is an automatic. It's a kick that a mapquest approximation of 15 minutes is actually, in reality, an hour in LA time. I could never live in a place where people say: "You took surface?" (meaning, you took regular streets, not the freeway?")

german engineered wheels in need of loving home

I have not purchased a new used car. I have adopted it. I'm giving it a better home, I've saved it from a sad situation, am giving it the home it deserves. More on the story later. The story involves family scheming, rainwater, denial, the Land of Lincoln and a stray cat---it's a good one.

vroom vroom

woo-hoo! In less than a week, I'll have wheels!

Rumpled Bed Gives Birth to Chilly Dog

recent chat, topic of nesting; specifically Ikea

Katemikkelsen: oh, when you go to Ikea, do NOT buy a Letten rolly-bathroom-cart-thingy taaterdog: why is that Katemikkelsen: because you might not be able to get it together after a really long day of putting things together Katemikkelsen: and then you might freak out, stomp on it Katemikkelsen: breaking it into tiny plastic pieces Katemikkelsen: flying one into your dog's eye Katemikkelsen: requiring a vet visit and an explanation taaterdog: oh god, who could have predicted a trip to ikea would turn so tragic for poor Ruby

Habit

We all have them--the dried-out Sharpie, the unrefillable mechanical pencil, the leaking pen. Why do we hang on to them? Why do we refuse to throw them away when they so obviously no longer do their jobs, and continue to irritate us? Why have I just reached for the same offending, leaking pen (with the globbed-up tip) when it just not ten minutes ago left a stain on my hand?

Stop staring at me!

My kitchen shelves are mocking me. Recently installed (see Ikea trip entry), they are shiny and new...and entirely empty. I've neglected my evening dinner cooking lately, feeling too worn out from work to bother, I've slid back into the single-person deli and take out habit. The new rack with hanging utensils is particularly snarly--I'll have to avoid looking in the kitchen on my way out the door this morning..to work.