Dog Posin'

My friend Jenn came over the other night and brought Koda, her adorable Sheba Enu, with her. Sophie and Koda had met once before and romped & stomped like old friends, so we were excited for the reunion.

Sophie

Koda

Many, many attempts at a group photo...

Attempt #1: Lure Koda with a bone

Attempt #2: Lure Sophie with a bone

Attempt #3: Try to get Sophie facing the camera

Attempt #4: Trying to get Koda to face the camera and Sophie to look up

Attempt #5: Simply manhandling Sophie into an acceptable pose, Koda now eyes the bone

Final Attempt: Can't win 'em all, but this was the best shot we got.

Ferry & a Wedding

Two weeks ago, my friend Ashley got married in Poulsbo, WA. To get to Poulsbo from Seattle, you have to take a ferry. This was only my second time to take the ferry (the first being when Christine, Chrissy & I visited Seattle in January 2006 and took a ferry to Bainbridge Island from Seattle), and I quickly remembered how freezing cold it is if you step outside to get a better view.

Chrissy & me on the ferry

Jesse and me (and my super cute new Nine West handbag) on the ferry

The back of the ferry

Ashley has always been unconventional, so it was no surprise that her wedding was held at a campsite. The ceremony and reception happened here, in a large cabin, and it was beautiful.

Ashley's bridal room, just outside the cabin.

You know who these two are...at the wedding.

Following the path of unconventionality, this was the wedding cake...although, apparently this is the new thing so maybe it will become conventional after all. For now, they are key lime cupcake-wedding cakes.

I know Ashley from the church I went to when I first moved to Seattle, so there were a few people from that church I saw again that I hadn't talked to in about a year, including Mark & Vanessa (on the right, above)...a super fun couple who sat with us for the afternoon.
Pictured here: Jesse, Chrissy, Me, Greg (the groom), Ashley, Mark & Vanessa

Breaking the Mold

Randy Itschner died 09/04/2008.

Fay Holmes died 12/03/2008.

Louise Itschner died 03/19/2009.

She was the last of them...all parents and grandparents are gone. I'm tired. I'm also averaging one death every 3 months. I'm a little afraid of June.

My grandmother, Louise Itschner, passed away this morning. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease in 1992 and went to live at a care facility in Kerrville, TX, in 1993. She was clearly a fighter. I believe the average survival is 7-10 years after diagnosis, so she broke the mold.

She always had broken the mold, though, so none of us were too surprised. She was strikingly beautiful (see below), very much like the actresses of the 1940s. She was nearly the youngest of 13 children, and established her own unique, engaging personality and identity. She established herself in the real estate market in Rockport, TX. She ran a household like no other. She taught me all the manners she could teach to a 10 year old. She raised 2 boys, who were quite the handful, to be responsible, good men and caring fathers.

So, I think my motto for Louise Itschner is "Breaking the Mold."

reunited

I hopped on a plane to Denton and reunited with some precious friends there this past weekend. A few selected highlights:

After indulging in the best sesame chicken on the planet at Mr. Chopsticks, Cookie, me, Uyen, and Angie posed in the parking lot.

Angie, Madame Yoga Master showing us a pose

Angie coaching Cookie in yoga technique. Her coaching went something like this, "Get your legs up! Make 'em straight! STRAAAAAIGGHHHHTTTTT!"

Cookie & Marcy--aren't they beautiful?

Marcy & me--I love this gal, one of the finest friends in the world.

Wine & dessert (okay and a little tequila for SOME of us), and loads of laughter at the Grindle house (Cookie's)--Angie, Uyen, Cookie, me, Marcy & Sara.
An aside: Supposedly Marcy & I are both 5'7"...I think she shrank. Also, it's ludicrous how high my waistline is when you look at all of us together like this. Ludicrous.

dream

so for a long time after daddy died, i had nightly nightmares. nightly, as in every night. it was very disturbing. they had not yet subsided when grandma died. so i got new kinds of nightmares. they finally were slowing down a little, and i had been getting better sleep.

last night, i dreamed that grandma had died but was sitting up and talking to our whole family. she was telling us the good things she loved about each of us. then she started saying horrible things to one member of the family. it was awful. i tried to stop her, but she wouldn't.

then you know how in dreams, things will just kind of fast forward and you'll be in another place but still the same concept of the dream is happening? well, that happened and i was lying on a bed with my mom. she looked at me and i looked at her and we said nothing. then we both cried and held onto each other out of grief for losing grandma.

i realize that grandma was a big part of my comfort when mama died. i have had no such comfort this time, and wish that mama was here.

i wonder why God has decided i'm strong enough to handle so much death by age 30.

My favorite time of year...

Girl Scout Cookie Time!

Picasa Collage

I have this fantastic program, Picasa, on my computer now that allows me to create collages really easily. This one for Daddy is my first collage...I'm rather pleased. :)

Happy Fat Tuesday...on Thursday

So, to celebrate Mardi Gras (also known as Fat Tuesday) the Student Services office of the Information School at the University of Washington where I am currently an advising intern, hosted a shindig to give the students a fun study break. These are easily the kookiest folks I've ever had the pleasure of working with. The party consisted of the classic King Cake, lots of other foods, beads upon beads, AND making your own mask! I'm normally the least artistically-oriented person around, but I happened to get inspiration from those around me...

And my fabulous co-workers, Jenny & Marie

PS Kari, here's a link to the traditional King Cake recipe! Really, though, Marie made a delicious one for the iSchool party so you should consider stalking her on her blog to ask for her recipe.

Siskel & Pegs

Confessions of a Shopaholic 3 stars

Having read two of Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic series, I was stoked to see this movie. My roommate and I got tickets online the night before, not wanting to chance not being able to get in on opening night. (We learned later that we needn't have worried.)

Isla Fisher is darling as Rebecca Bloomwood, as is the hum-uh-nuh hum-uh-nuh British actor playing the charming Luke Brandon. While quite different from the books (Rebecca is British in the novels and American in the movie), it is still everything a girl could want in a true chick flick. As Rebecca smashes a block of frozen ice that contains her prized credit card, you laugh with her. As she lets go of her precious Denny & George green scarf in order to pay off her debt, your heart is at once proud of Rebecca and breaking with her over the loss such a beautiful accessory.

Go see it, ladies. And take your favorite accessory with you.

He's Just Not That Into You 3 stars

I'm a fan of most movies with more than one storyline, so this one immediately got on my good side. Packed with stars such as Jennifer Aniston, Jennifer Connolly, Ginnifer Goodwin, Ben Affleck, Drew Barrymore and Scarlett Johansson, this chick flick will make you laugh and cry.

You will likely identify with at least one character, even if you're a dude. Filled with stereotypical characters of both genders, there is the:
--classic idealistic, clingy, needy girl (Ginnifer),
--the girl who hung on to a dead-end relationship hoping he'd change for her (Jennifer A),
--the girl who gets cheated on by her husband yet thinks they can work it out just because he says he wants to (Jennifer C),
--the girl who sleeps with the married guy because she thinks he is going to leave his wife for her (Scarlett),
--the guy who is a complete idiot, getting married because he's too much of a coward to not get married when he doesn't want to just b/c he doesn't want to hurt his college sweetheart's feelings and feels like he "should" after being with her so long (he's been in stuff and he's HOT, but don't know his name),
--and...SPOILER ALERT--DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT AND PLAN TO...the guy who says he doesn't want to get married, and then decides he will do anything to make his beloved happy, including getting married.

My problem with this movie is that, if you've read the book, you know the entire point the authors make is that if a guy isn't doing X, Y, and Z, he's just not that into you. Hence the name of the book. The problem is that several of the storylines give you that feel good ending leading you to falsely believe that these fairy tales do come true. Now, I know the book and movie often have major differences, but you shouldn't change the entire premise.

Still worth going to see...though waiting for DVD isn't a bad thing to consider on this one.

"W" (3 stars)

Sliding flashbacks of George W. Bush's life while chronicling his presidency, this movie is probably more for those who are not big Bush fans, which I suppose these days is the majority of you, according to the polls. All the good Bush quotes came out, and I often wanted to cover my eyes or stop the movie for the awkwardness of it all. However, there were some poignant moments where I felt a new kind of sympathy towards W, and that he truly did what he thought was best for the nation.

If you are not a Bush fan, you might go ahead and see it soon in order to alleviate some of your doubtless frustrations concerning our most recent president. If you are a Bush fan, see it. There's nothing you didn't already know (or think you knew).

The Secret Life of Bees (5,000 stars)

This is my new favorite movie. I watched it twice in 24 hours. That little Dakota Fanning is a fabulous actress. I can't wait to see her career unfold. Queen Latifah, Alicia Keyes, and Jennifer Hudson round out the star-studded cast. My ONLY disappointment was that with so many talented singers in the cast, there was almost no singing in the movie.

However, I decided that perhaps they deliberately had them not sing in order to show us exactly how amazing their acting talent is. This movie allows the audience to peek inside the life of a teenage girl who has to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders during the turbulent 1960s. On a mission to discover her mother, she finds love with the Boatwright sisters and..ahem, a certain young gentleman.

Go see it. Log off your computer and run to the nearest video store.

Grandma's Memorial

The memorial was beautiful, and my trip to Texas was wonderful. I will share more later, but for now I wanted to share the video that my grandma's nephew created. I was able to upload it to YouTube, so please watch & enjoy! FYI, to those new to YouTube, you can click on the icon next to the volume for a full screen view.

Tagged: 4th Folder, 4th Picture

I was recently tagged by my new co-worker and friend, Marie, to post on my blog the fourth picture in the fourth folder on my computer. So, here 'tis...my wonderful Aunt Cynthia. This was taken when we were together last September for Daddy's funeral. I also got to see her briefly while in Texas this past week for Grandma's memorial. She is one amazing woman, and I am VERY thankful for her.

I'm supposed to tag 4 new people...knowing who loves good photography, I choose Kari, Nicole, Marcy Watt, and Kate Borders. Hey Marcy, why did I just find out I'm not able to read your blog? Permission denied...what what?!

Losing Daddy: The Hereafter

I am contemplating a new writing piece, and thought of this title. I always think of titles for things I could/should write, and then often don't write them.

I thought Part I could be "The Here" and Part II could be "The After." In Part I, I could talk about the events leading up to Daddy's death (including some useful history for the reader), and in Part II, I could discuss what it's been like since September 4, 2008 at 2:15 a.m (including my mental meltdown and slow-but-sure recovery). I was wondering, though, when to actually write Part II, given that "The After" will go on for a long, long time.

Anyway, just some thoughts today.

I get on the plane to Texas tomorrow morning bright and early (actually, dark & early, because that's how freaking early it will be). Grandma is going to be excited for her party...on Saturday, we plan to celebrate one great life!

pictures of you, pictures of me...

My second cousin is putting together a slideshow of pictures for Grandma's memorial service next weekend. So I perused and here's just a few that I think I'll submit for the show...

24

Not the tv show.

Jesse's age.

Now quit asking. :)

My First Massage

I have wanted to get a professional massage for months. I think it's bad posture causing awful back pain, and have been wanting to nip it in the bud.

Today, I walked over to New Seattle Massage on The Ave, and they had an available appointment. After informing the receptionist that I would be remaining fully clothed (Miss Modesty, I know), I settled into the chair to wait for my masseur.

When I entered the massage room, I saw the table with the head pad thingy. All I could think of was the Friends episode where Phoebe falls for a hot guy that she massages, and makes sure her feet are perfectly pedicured because when he is getting a massage and has his head on the head pad thingy, all he can see are her feet. And she gets the guy by "feet flirting."

Mr. Masseur had a very soothing voice, and he chatted with me for a few minutes about massage therapy. He encouraged me to consider the non-fully clothed option for a better massage, and I caved. (There was no "feet flirting.")

For the next 60 minutes, all my pent-up stress was beat out of me. Oy. He told me I am "inflammed" in many areas. As if I didn't know that 2008 inflammed me. During the massage, he told me all kinds of stuff about healthful living...yoga, veganism, and Epsom salt baths. I also promised Mr. Masseur that I would set a reminder on my Outlook calendar every 20 minutes to do some conscious deep breathing. Sure, dude. Every 20 minutes, like clockwork.

60 minutes can pass fast when you're having the hell beat outta you. I recommend it, though.

Totally.

Random is back!

The trouble with blogging for me lately is not that I'm bummed out. Because I'm not anymore, much to my relief. I've simply lacked ideas for posts.

Then I remembered the popularity of the Random series, and decided to stick with what works.

So here you are. Privy to my inner monologue. Brace yourself.

For the first month I worked at NSCC, I thought I was a bad omen for the college. I worked there a mere week (part-time, mind you) before everything went to crap.
1. I got sick. I rarely get sick so when I do, I get SICK.
2. My first day to return, a freaking blizzard hit Seattle. Okay, maybe not a blizzard, but it was the worst winter storm since 1996. The school was closed for inclement weather for several days.
3. My first day to return, I came into the office just as everyone was sent home because a water main had broken and the school was without water. We closed for 2 days.
4. My first day to return, I walked down the hall to the Advising Center. I entered my office. I sat down at my desk.

And the fire alarm went off.

Are you serious.

So, we evacuated. After waiting approximately 15 minutes in the below freezing temperatures, we were allowed back in the building and carried on with the day.

Me. Bad. Omen.

I started an advising internship with the Information School (iSchool) at the UW last week.

Last year, during The Job Hunt of 2008, I was repeatedly told that I finished second because someone who was 1. Internal (usually at the UW) or 2. had WA state experience beat me out. So, I am concurrently holding positions that should nix that problem.

I love eating bread with peanut butter and jelly. Not pb&j sandwiches. I like a single piece of bread (not toasted) with jelly and then peanut butter on top.

I am currently watching the American Idol auditions in Kansas City, and a lovely girl named Jessica just made it to Hollywood. Jessica lives with her 93-year old grandma and they showed a few minutes of video of her & her grandma...Grandma is hard of hearing and Jessica had to yell things a few times. She also had to help walk her around the house. I cried. I go home next week for Grandma's memorial service.

Facebooking is not like riding a bike. I got on facebook and tried to surf it for the first time in who knows how long. I got overwhelmed and quit. I have forgotten how to facebook.

I found a new Michael Cera movie I need to see (Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist). I have this Mary Kay LeTourneau habit of having crushes on baby boys. Or more like guys with baby faces. Topher Grace was first. Then Jesse. Now Michael Cera. If you don't know who Michael Cera is, don't ask because I will be very disappointed in you for not knowing. But ok, here are some hints: Arrested Development, Juno, Superbad.

Jesse surprised me tonight with a 9-month anniversary present of a Starbucks Gold Card. This means I will enjoy 10% off every purchase. Basically, 30-ish cents per visit. The card costs $25 annually, so I will make up the difference (had I paid in the first place) in approximately 3 days. That's how much Starbucks I inhale.

Thus, tomorrow, I intend to sleep in until 10:00 (Tuesday & Thursday, I don't go in until 11) and go to Starbucks where I will purchase my tall non-fat chai latte for only $2.80. Then, I will go to my UW advising job. My, my, my. I like the sound of that.

Snowed In!

Seattle had a snowy December. With the most snow since 1996, we accumulated enough to sled, build snowmen, and fall on our rear ends. NSCC closed several days, as did the University of Washington (who hadn't closed for inclement weather since a 1/2 day in 2003 but closed for 3 days this year). Here are some highlights:

Jesse & me-oh wait, you probably knew that by now

Jesse scraping my back windshield so we could try to drive to a coffee shop and recover from our cabin fever.

Snow so pretty...and can you see my very cute boots? I bought them to be mainly rain boots, but with REI's guarantee that they would be 100% waterproof and warm, I thought they would help me survive any snow we might get. The boots were true to their word and I never got wet or cold feet.

Kerri & Kristi Carter are friends from high school. Kristi actually lives in Seattle, but I didn't know it until Kerri came to visit a couple of weeks ago and we got together. It was great to see them again, reminisce (I was exposed to Alanis by Kerri's friend, Sarah), and catch up.

Jesse & Kristi's husband, Mack, kept each other entertained while the girls chatted.

This was the second time within a week the snow fell. So we got out for a walk...we lasted approximately 20 minutes before deciding we were crazy.

"The Look" I gave Jesse when he threatened me with a snowball.

Jesse threatening me with the snowball. Okay, he had actually threatened and thrown it before this picture, but this was me having him re-enact the snowball-throwing for the blog.

The hill that is Jesse's street. We went sledding with the neighbors on plastic mats and inner tubes.

Ginger & me on our walk. Ginger seemed to really likes the snow, despite the face she's making in this picture.

So-cute Ginger.

The third separate instance of snowfall within a week. Unheard of. Here's the outside of my place, so now you've seen inside and out. Leah & I live on the second floor.

My street, all snow-covered.

Fremont Avenue, the street around the corner from mine. This particular street is beautiful no matter the season.

I spent Christmas with Jesse, Joe & Maggie. It was really fun to spend the holiday with them...Maggie made a Moroccan stew for Christmas dinner, which was AH-mazing. Of course, we also partook of the classic "A Christmas Story."

Bright Spots

This is my 200th post. I am celebrating by noting the Bright Spots of 2008. While it may seem that this year has been one bummer after another (seems that way often to me, at least), I will admit there have been some smile times.

4. North Seattle Community College

Where I began work today as a temporary advisor through June 2009. Sara, my former supervisor at the UW last year, connected me to the Associate Dean of Advising at NSCC and we hit it off. Yay for a place that fits my goals.

3. Apartment Find

After searching high and low, I found a steal-of-a-deal apartment in Funky Fremont. While I miss Val terribly, it's been a great place to live. I couldn't believe of all people, an academic advisor at the UW turned out to have the perfect place for me.

Living Room

Kitchen

My room

My Room pt. 2
For all who wondered where all my Africa stuff might be, here 'tis.

2. Sophie & Ginger-the two pups in my life

Sophie-my roommate's dog who I adore. She's totally awkward and gangly, and it's totally loveable. Her bone is always with her (note: bone to the left).

Ginger--Jesse's parents' dog who cuddles me like nobody's business. She's very smart, does all kinds of tricks.

1. Jesse

In 8 months, he has helped me cope with an inordinate amount of sorrow. He didn't let 3000 miles scare him when I "moved" to Denton. He jumped on a plane to Texas to be with me as Daddy died. He is jumping on another plane to go to Aama's memorial service with me. (Did I mention he doesn't like planes/flying? So this is truly a sacrifice.) I spent Thanksgiving at his family's house and will spend Christmas there as well. He loves me with actions as well as words.

Posting this at the risk of looking like a hokey holiday card, Jesse and me with Ginger

(And Dallas kicking Seattle's tail at football in the background)

Jesse's favorite

My favorite

Life without Grandma

Grandma passed away at 5:36 am on Wednesday, December 3, 2008 in her sleep.

Grandma, fondly known as G-ma Holmes by my friend Amy or Aama by yours truly, was 87 years old and had lived with her niece Barbara and Barbara's daughter Kim since April 2008. They made her last several months as wonderful as possible, in a home filled with laughter and love.

Anyone who has followed this blog for awhile had probably figured out that Grandma and I were super close. I was her only grandchild, and we lived in the same zip code for many, many years so that's the start of a close relationship. But Grandma was special. Her casa was mi casa. Literally, in 3 separate instances of my life we shared a home.

Memories of Aama:
I called her in the middle of the night if I couldn't sleep or had exciting news, and she always answered her phone (even if she usually dropped it trying to wake up).

When I was little, I watched Mary Poppins or Bedknobs & Broomsticks or Tom Sawyer at her house every single day.

My friends and I would fingerpaint on her back porch.

I went to the kindergarten class she taught.

Feeding seagulls on the Corpus Christi beach.

Many, many talks on the phone.

Popping in to her house after work to chit chat.

Discovering she had painted her guest bathroom toilet seat with flowers when I sat down and it scared me.

Seeing her flip someone off on the road...nothing like an old lady bird finger. And completely out of character for her, but hilarious.

Her 84th birthday--I made her cupcakes, gave her daisies, took her to a CC Hooks baseball game, and got her favorite soup from Kiko's.

Going to Houston Astros games.

When I promised her if the Astros made it to the World Series, I'd watch with her...and then they did. So I did. And they lost 4 straight games. Bummer.

When she helped pay for my college so I could go to the university I wanted.

When I wanted to get Wilbert and that meant he'd have to live at her house for 2 weeks before I moved to Denton and she said no but I wore her down til she caved and then she became Wilbert's biggest fan.

Sitting at her dining room table relaying some story while she made baby quilts for unwed mothers.

The first time she told me she was part of a ladies' group called "Bodacious Babes."

When her favorite cat got mauled by some horrible dog and I tried to rescue it without being mauled myself. Grandma had a broom out and was ready to go take on this rabid beast until I stopped her.

Holidays always at Grandma's house.

Her broccoli & cheese casserole.

When she started to ramble.

Dropping in to find her listening to the Astros on the radio.

Her cats. Lots of them.

The way she decided to stop doing things when the time was right.She couldn't drive anymore, so she stopped. She couldn't live by herself anymore, so she moved. She knew what to do and did it.

A massive VHS collection with old movies like South Pacific and every Cosby Show made.

After Mama died, she had her son-in-law (Daddy) for dinner every Sunday until this year.

Her dainty hands.

Her beautiful smile. And she always wore it.

When Mama died, and she became my mama.

26 more days of 2008, and I will not mind saying goodbye to it.

the Fremont canal

The past few days have been perfect in Seattle, weather-wise. The sun has been shining and the temperature has been in the mid-60s with the colored leaves falling all around.

I decided to take a walk in my neighborhood, Fremont, down to the canal. I stopped at a bench, sat, and reflected on things.

I had started turning to my father for wisdom in decisions this year, something I hadn't done for a long time. He kept surprising me with his discernment. I should've given him those chances years earlier. Now that I am on this path, this Failure Road, I wish I could call him and ask him what to do. He would probably surprise me with just the right answer.

The last time I saw him healthy was when I came to Corpus for his retirement. When I had my random move-for-a-month to Denton in May, I decided Corpus was too far to drive for a visit and I didn't make it to Corpus during that time before moving back to Seattle. An opportunity missed.

I hope it is still awhile before I begin to forget...his voice, what his hands looked like. Right now I can remember so clearly that it makes his death seem not real. Like I could just pick up the phone and he'd say, "Hel-LO?" in the way only he did. Instead, I picked up the phone and was informed by an operator that his number is no longer in service. Indeed.

But for now, I remember.

"Blessed are the pessimistic...

for they hath made backups."

This is on the marquee of a church I've passed nearly everyday this week. People have always told me that I'm on the pessimistic or negative side. And I've always had a plan B (and usually a C, D, and Z). So I guess the marquee could be called true, at least in my case.

I've been asking myself this week what has happened to me.

I was a responsible, stable, diligent, persistent person. Up until February of this year, I had an impeccable resume. All of my supervisors thought I was a fabulous employee, and I was making every logical step towards my career goals. I was involved in a church where I was a small group leader and people thought I was a fabulous Christian girl. I had a dog who I loved, and I believe loved me. I had a steady income with a perfectly comfortable one bedroom apartment that I had decorated in a very cute 20-something way. I had a daddy and a grandma. I had some place to go for Christmas. No, not just some place to go. Some place I was EXPECTED to be at. They didn't invite me to Christmas; I was already there.

I moved to Seattle, and at first I think I was still me. I was still normal and reliable and not disappointing. I was in a reputable doctoral program and had an assistantship with wonderful people giving me wonderful experience. I was involved in a church and starting to make friends.

Then I dated a boy (no, not a man...a boy) from that church. He did something that, by everyone's account including his own, was just plain selfish and stupid, and I let it unravel me. I quit my doctoral program. I also ditched the Christian faith I had grown up on, and had become frustrated with and disillusioned by for the past few years. My grandmother, was also my best friend, sold her house she'd lived in most of my life, and moved to live with relatives as it was decided she couldn't live on her own anymore. I was looking for jobs and had a panic attack when I didn't find a job within the first two months (because I had no plan B when I left school, as I always had in the past) so I took one that I didn't really want in Texas.

Then I met another...this time, a man. He, however, was in Washington. I was in Texas, unhappy at the job I'd taken that I didn't want. The man and the doctoral program I should never have left were both in Washington. So I came back.

The job hunting resumed and I finally was offered a position at a for-profit institution. They approached education in a very different way than I was accustomed to, and it was not a good fit. The business model and "sales position" left me feeling empty.

To boot, my father died suddenly just three weeks into this new position.

I came back after the funeral and other arrangements were taken care of and functioned for a couple of weeks. Then, overwhelmed by life, I stayed in bed, cried, was physically ill and probably other things for the last couple of weeks.

I wonder if I hadn't dated the boy that I could tell was going to do just what he did if I would be sane now. Or if I'd stayed in school back in February and kept my assistantship and that would have kept me sane. Or not ditched Christianity, even though I already had inside even if I hadn't announced it yet. Or stayed in Texas in May and lived life in Denton, back to church at the Village and back to advising at UNT. Or if I'd not said yes to the for-profit "sales position" that I should have known was not going to suit me, and been willing to keep going with the job hunt. Or if I had not lost my father suddenly.

But I suspect that the problem isn't my location. It's that I am lost. Every decision I make leads me further down Failure Road. I am now facing the possibility of a barely more than minimum wage job while I try to finish my class and figure out what to do. How to care about anything.

I find myself now unraveled, hanging on at the end of the fraying rope.

happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday to you,
happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, dear Daddy,
happy birthday to you.

Today I left the Art Institute. I am not sure what I will do next.

I slept a lot today. I also went to the Humane Society to cheer myself up because I love dogs. That was not a smart idea. It was not cheery. It was very sad. So many sweet dogs (and cats, gerbils, and rabbits) without homes or families. I felt a kinship.

The leaves are changing in Seattle. A lot of reds, oranges, and yellows.
A new season.

May I have one graduation with a side of ice cream, please?

Daddy came to graduation when I completed my masters degree in August 2006. My father, who rarely took a day off and had not flown on an airplane since the 80s (seriously), flew up to Dallas of his own accord and attended the graduation. He stayed the weekend, and we had more fun than we had in ages.

He had never been to (or heard of) Braum's, where the most amazing ice cream treats are made, so I took him while he was in town. We were eating ice cream when I looked up and saw that he had half a scoop hanging off the front of his cowboy hat. And he had no clue.

Let me explain the relationship between my father and his cowboy hat. They were always together. He protected the hat from rain with a shower cap-like thing. The hat was prized above all else. And there it was, being stained by a half scoop of ice cream. Who knows how that ice cream got there, but it sent both of us reeling with laughter (raucous, tears-flowing laughter) for a good ten minutes.

August 2006 Family Photo

Me, Wilbert, Daddy

Life without Daddy

Daddy's 61st birthday would have been this Friday, October 24th.

His sudden death has left me with a tightness in my chest that after about 6 weeks, I'm thinking could be permanent. I wake up from nightmares most nights...images that reflect the fear I have about continuing in life now that I have lost both parents by the age of 30.

Saturday, August 30th was the last day life was normal. Jesse and I went to my favorite cafe in Seattle, Alki Bakery, and enjoyed cinnamon rolls and a walk on Alki Beach. 7 hours later my uncle Royce called to tell me that my father's surgery (to see why he wasn't healing from his original routine surgery) did not go well and he had been given a prognosis of imminent death with hours to live.

Thursday, September 4th, 2:13 am. Amy and I arrive at the hospital. My father's BP and heart rate are extremely low. His eyes are open but glazed over. His last breath was 2:15 am. We waited for an hour until the coroner came. He was already cold.

Saturday, September 6th 10:00 am. The funeral service.

Wednesday, September 10th. I left Texas and flew back to Seattle. I had gone to Texas with one small suitcase. I returned with 4 pieces of luggage, including my father's belt buckles, bowling pin, and cowboy hat. Also, several photo albums.

I have nightmares most nights. Strange images of burying both parents. My mother's death has become resurrected in this situation.

I am alone. There are people who care about me, but I am alone in this life. If I screw up, there's no home to go to. This is scary. A part of me, a rather big part, wants to go to Brownwood or Kerrville and hole up in my family's homes, not getting out of bed for the next year (or so).

The other day, I thought, "It's been awhile. I need to call Daddy." He is still in my cell phone, although the number was disconnected on September 30th.

My parents' anniversary was October 11th. My parents married each other twice, separated by a 5 year divorce.

Jesse met my father. He came with me to Texas. My father's eyes followed Jesse where ever he went around the ICU room. I think he was definitely checking him out. He rolled his eyes at Royce and told him, "I guess HE's one of us now."

Who is my family now?

Addendum regarding "fixing to"

Indeed, I had an experience of inner turmoil over whether or not to use the phrase "fixing to" in my last post. You see, I am a Grammar Girl and after searching her website thoroughly with every variation of "fixing to" possible, I came up with zero results. This indicated to me that it is incorrect grammar.

Nonetheless, I have a deep appreciation of cultural dialects and my Southernness won out. I typed "fixing to," backspaced and typed "going to," backspaced and typed "fixing to," backspaced and typed "about to," before finally backspacing and leaving it as "fixing to."

Yee-haw!

Sideswiped by a crackhead

No kidding.

Remember Columbia City, the cute area of south Seattle where Jesse and I found Jones BBQ and fried okra a few days ago?

Ah, not so cute.

Jesse and I were waiting at a stoplight one block north of Jones BBQ on Sunday afternoon. Suddenly, the car lurched forward as we were hit from behind...we thought it was a regular rear ender, until we noticed the car actually SQUEEZING between us and the car next to us also waiting at the red light. We actually felt the car scrape along our driver's side like a ripple effect.

The car ran the light and suddenly, 3 police cars came out of the woodwork and started chasing the guy. Jesse pulled off the road and called 911, when one of the cops came back around to check on us. Officer Elliott took Jesse's info, and while doing that, kept updating us on what he was getting through his police radio.

Turns out they had been chasing the guy, but had stopped for whatever reason they were told to. Officer Elliott was fixing to go back to the station when he witnessed the guy run into us. (That's nice that he saw it.) So they started chasing him again. As we were standing there with the officer, the guy came through our intersection again! He then got on the light rail tracks (which aren't open yet, by the way.)

To top it off, Officer Elliott informed us that the guy was actually smoking crack WHILE being chased.

PS There's actually minimal damage to Jesse's car and we're both fine, which is pretty amazing. I mean, it was like a scene from a movie--the guy squeezed between us. Seriously.

Afrikando!

FYI: To those who don't scan, I did post twice today so read further down after this...apparently, my vow to blog more (I said better, didn't I? Well, hopefully it's both.) really sunk in...

We went to Safeway (a grocery store for those w/o them) last night, and our check-out guy was unmistakably West African. I don't know how, but after living there for two years, you JUST KNOW when you see one (back me up on this, fellow WA folks). Plus, his name tag said his last name was "Mbacke."

So I asked where he was from and he said Senegal. I replied that I had lived in Dakar for about a year and he was (as usual) ecstatic...and incredulous.

EM: "No way."
PI: "Yes, I did."
EM: "NO WAY."
PI: "Yes, really."
EM: "You like ceebu jinn?"
PI: "Oh yes, it's wonderful. But my favorite is yassa poulet."
EM: "NO!" (hearty chuckling)
PI: "Do you know where I can get Senegalese food in Seattle?"
EM: "Down the street, by the drivers license place."
PI: "I don't know it." (Which I would never say to another American, but I say now with my African-American accent that comes out when talking with Africans.)
(Jesse has been watching this whole thing play out with a grin on his face.)
JS: "Oh, yeah...Afrikando!"
(I look at him appreciatively for knowing A) what the guy said through his thick accent, and B) for knowing what place our new friend was referring to.)
EM: Yes, Afrikando!

Fried okra--the relationship deal-breaker

Last night, Jesse and I decided to pick up dinner in Columbia City, this cute little area in south Seattle. Neither of us knew the area too well, so we just parked and decided to walk around until we found something we both wanted.

Deliciousness smacked me in the face when we rounded a corner and behold...Jones BBQ. My whole mouth filled with saliva when the smell of brisket hit my nose.

After convincing my northerner boyfriend to go in, the saliva turned into an embarrassing drooling problem. I became weak in the knees as I anticipated the flavors that my mouth had long forgotten.

There were several people in line, and I began to search the menu. Brisket...pork...rib tips...sausage...potato salad...baked beans...and the special veggie of the day, OMG...it's FRIED FREAKING OKRA.

I started shrieking, "Jesse, Jesse! They have fried okra!!" His response made me stop cold. He said, "What's that?"

WHAT.

I was already having a Texas Appreciation Day, having cranked the old country up on my ipod in the car. Jesse had earned major points for being able to sing along to the likes of Conway Twitty & Loretta Lynn's "Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man" as well as "Louisiana Saturday Night" (maybe I was having more of a Louisiana Appreciation Day?).

And then he LOST all points, and even went into negative digits with those two little words, "What's that?"

So we got a large side of fried okra...and I decided I could still be with him after he tried it and decided it was "actually pretty good."

What's with northerners?

the woes of a mover

I was all set today to make good on my promise to be the blogger of yesteryears by doing what Kari requested on her own super-blog (seriously, she's like a blogger possessed) and doing a post on my daily commute. But alas, my digital camera is somewhere in all my stuff yet to be recovered from my most recent move. Boo.

So, you have to settle for a "Commute in Words" instead of a "Commute in Pictures."

My commute on Tuesdays & Thursdays has been something else...it looks a little like this:

8:15 am--depart my apartment to work...which means, walking up my street (N. Motor Pl.--not the most appealing street address), crossing the intersection with a major jaywalk violation, digging out my U-PASS to ride the bus "for free" (I pay a nice fee to the UW for this pass)
8:25 am--the #5 arrives and I find a seat, settling in for the 15 minute ride to downtown Seattle with my Jennifer Weiner novel
8:35 am--cross the Aurora Bridge with a lovely view of the Olympic Mtns on the right and the Cascades on the left as we drive over Lake Union
8:40 am--disembark (is that right?) the #5 at 3rd Ave & Bell St and go to Gina's Starbucks to say good morning and grab a chai latte
8:50 am--walk from 1st Ave & Bell (the Starbucks) to the Art Institute at Elliott Ave & Battery St.

3:35 pm--leave work and hoof it uphill to 3rd & Bell to take the #2 or #4 to Westlake Station (which bears a striking resemblance to Grand Central in NYC--seriously), where I then take the first of the #71, 72, 73 or 74 to the U-District for class
3:50 pm--arrive Westlake Station and take one of the 70s
4:00 pm--cross the I-5 bridge with the same view as the Aurora bridge from the morning
4:10 pm--arrive at the UW and walk to class in Miller Hall (man, I need pictures...the views are amazing here)
4:25 pm--arrive to class with 5 min to spare

6:30 pm--leave class and walk to 15th Ave & 42nd St to catch the #44 bus back home to Fremont
6:45 pm--where the h*?! is the #44?
6:55 pm--seriously, did it get lost? an accident? where IS IT?
7:05 pm--the #44 arrives and I get on in a huff, showing the driver my UPASS, which he can shove where the sun don't shine by now
7:35 pm--arrive at 46th St & Fremont Ave, where I disembark and walk 6 blocks home to a happy Sophie

And now it's 3:37 pm so you can see that I am running late to catch my bus!!

my own worst blog enevy

Nope, no typo in the title. I am my own worst blog enevy.

I have been thinking lately that I don't blog like I used to. I scrolled back to the good ol' days. My best blogging days were in Denton with Wilbert. I mean, the stories were about extremely mundane, everyday things yet I was being complimented and told I should make a career out of comedy writing.

My envy first began when I visited Kari's blog...then Nicole's...then Marcy's...then other Marcy's...then Abby's...then...you get the idea. Man, why is everyone else stinkin' brilliant and I have blogger's block?

Then, I looked at my own blog when I was super-blogger, and there it was...envy of myself, circa summer 2006.

I will blog better. I will blog better. I will blog better.

Pike Place, Beds, IKEA, and BBQ

I went to Pike Place Market yesterday for lunch. I simply walked 3 blocks south from my office, and I was there. I pulled out my book (The Guy Not Taken by Jennifer Weiner, chick lit at its finest), settled on a stool, and looked at Elliott Bay in all its glory.

All around me, tourists were taking pictures and oohing & ahhing over the wonder that is Seattle, Pike Place, Puget Sound, the Olympic Mountains, the Space Needle, and Mount Rainier--all of which were in sight. I live in a city were people spend thousands of dollars to visit, and work a mere 3 blocks from several world-renowned attractions.

And you can tell I'm not from around here, or I wouldn't ooh and ahh over the fact that I live in such a place. Jesse gets quite bored with my oohing & ahhing at all the Seattle stuff he's been around his entire life.

This is my second week at the Art Institute, and I love it so far. To be sure, it's a ton of information and will not be an easy job but I think it will be a great fit for me. I get to talk with prospective students all day, everyday and hear their stories, interests, dreams & goals and see if the AiS (Art Institute of Seattle) has a good program for them. I'm glad I signed the dotted line (or rather, solid line) on my offer letter. :)

I made a truly fabulous purchase once I had accepted the new job...hallelujah, I have my very own queen-sized bed from Sleep Country! No more twin beds, no more uncomfortable mattresses. You see, since I left home in 1996 the first time, I have been sleeping on hand-me-down or school-sponsored or missionary bedding--all twin sizes and not a one comfortable.

I also invaded IKEA for the first time ever last weekend. People have told me for years that I would love IKEA. They also tried to explain that you have to walk through the entire store, which I could never understand...why can't you just turn around and walk out. Oh, I get it now. There's only registers after you have followed the one-way trail through the entire mega-store. Jesse had fun introducing me to the wonder that is IKEA, and helping me pick out stuff for my new place.

I have been told that I'm a "friend separater" (separator?) by several of my friends, and I guess I am. I tend to hang out in very distinct groups, and actually usually one-on-one getting coffee or dinner with my friends. That's why, after a year in Seattle, Jenn has never met Chrissy, Chrissy has never met Gina, Gina has never met Paula, Paula has never met Josephine, etc. Well, I decided to be a "friend gatherer" last night and invited my new roommate Leah and dear friend Chrissy to dinner. So the 3 of us went to Dad Watson's, a fun bar & grill in Fremont, and lo and behold...we HAD FUN. Who woulda thunk it? I should be a friend gatherer more often.

So...my newest idea? Why don't all y'all, anyone reading this post, come on over to Seattle (you should really want to after reading the first part of this post) and I will have a slumber party for all of you in my new place? I supposed I'll ask Leah if this is ok, or she may prefer that I go back to being a friend separater (or).

Ah yes, one other recent hap worth mentioning. So, back in the Africa days, my roommate Kate & her now-husband Tim who are both from North Carolina tried to convince Kari (from Georgia) and me (from Texas, of course) that true barbecue is only in NC. (Jonathan, Jeremy (both from Iowa) and Tad (Ohio) could care less about the entire topic. However, Kari & I were clearly miffed. Well, 5 years later, Tim sent Kari and me this video to prove once and for all that he and Kate were right. Watch the video for yourself and determine if you'd believe anything these guys say.