North Country Mile

Funny How Fallin' Feels Like Flyin'

2012-01-06T20:01:00.000-08:00

I really have been single-minded in my pursuit of some higher sense of place. I thought I could learn my way to understanding what it means to belong somewhere. And, since I moved to Oregon, I turned my back on that idea. I had to focus on the present and immediate. I was putting out fires, literally and figuratively. It was a short summer and a belly flop of a landing on September 2nd, the day I completed my probation. I felt hollowed out, something the wind could whistle through, something that looked heavier than it felt. I put my faith in believing that everything happens for a reason. Even after my time opened up, I still kept myself closed off from the place that was becoming home. When my crutch finally collapsed I found out I could stand on my own. And I finally looked around and realized I was becoming intimate with a place I told myself I hated. I found myself vulnerable and the thing that stepped forward to offer comfort was a sturdy place. It snuck into my heart with a gentle December, days of clear sky and soft night rains. I never expected you to be the one, Oregon. I didn't think I'd love you and I am the first to admit that this is a clumsy, new love. I only just recently learned what it means to give yourself to another. I don't know how I earned your trust but your patience has earned mine. Maybe we don't find a place. Maybe it finds us.

Timothy Lake

2012-01-04T21:35:00.000-08:00

12-8-11

Yesterday Sally and I hiked around Lake Timothy. The trail that circumnavigates the lake is 13 miles total but it wanders away from the lake often. In September when I’d been out fishing by myself on the lake shore I’d welcomed the mile or two I tromped outside sight of the lake, away from the hot rocks and reflecting water. My right arm was already a deep red and hummed with warmth even in the shade of the forest. But, on December 7th it is a little less of a Godsend. The evergreen canopy shades the trail, leaving a few inches, sometimes over a foot of snow that has melted just enough to form an ice crust that you punch through with only the mildest resistance. 13 miles seemed manageable when we arrived at 11am with the sun not yet overhead. As we slipped and crunched our way down the trail the idea of walking 3 miles per hour seemed more and more grandeur. I thought of the two brand new pairs of snowshoes sitting on a shelf in my garage, still in their plastic. I thought of how light and portable they were and wondered why I’d put a pair of binoculars in my backpack instead of throwing those snowshoes in the trunk. Incidentally, when I saw my first Bald Eagle since I’d moved to Oregon it was a tiny speck in the top of a Doug Fir. I forgot about my binoculars and squinted and shielded my eyes for a better look. But, back to the beginning of the hike. As soon as we saw the sign for a detour to a Meditation Area we pulled out the small bottle of Jamison and wandered to the water’s edge, never reaching the designated meditation spot but impatiently creating our own on a sawed-off stump resting on craggy and dried out roots a few feet from the lapping lakeshore. I couldn’t imagine what other area on the lake would be more well-suited for abandoning yourself for a few seconds or a few hours to some greater good. I didn’t know how to meditate but I knew how to let the winter sun warm my face and let the whiskey warm my gut. The dogs polar bear plunged, Sally’s Boston Terrier, Murphy, out-swimming my Charlie. He ripped sticks from Charlie’s mouth the few times Charlie would beat him to a root we’d thrown a dozen feet from shore. Charlie cried, as he always done, when the pursuit of a hunk of wood leads him from wading to swimming depth. He’s always been a wader, not a swimmer. And watching him bound along the shore and take big bites of lake water made me love every flea-ridden inch of that old hairy dog. Sitka slapped my legs with a root she’d ripped out of the rocks, not wanting to hand it over but preferring a game of tug of war that would have ripped the skin off my palms. And Suzy just darted from woods to shore, a solar-powered dog charging her mammoth battery bank.
We eventually mosied onward, but chose to follow the shoreline rather than the ice snow trail in the woods. Layers came off as we walked in the sun and the daylight felt endless at high noon. Any parts of the trail that were sheltered from the sun became crunching and stomping. We were perplexed how a firm layer of rock and sand would collapse under our sneakers (yep, sneakers), revealed a few inches of ice that held up the frozen shore. We tried snow (punched through), tried the rocky lake side (punched through or slipped on frozen rock) and tried sandy beach (punched through to a muddy underbelly). Shoes became muddy clod-hoppers and the dogs frolicked in filthy exuberance (except Murph who whimpered and tiptoed his way through the landscape). Eventually we found ourselves pacing down a spidery northern finger of the lake. Five months ago we would have dropped the backpacks and dove off the sandy bank into dark green water, letting the last 9 miles of the hike dry our clothes. But, this time of the year it was just jokes (I think, Sally’s from Minnesota so maybe she was serious) about polar bear plunges. The finger was endless. Eventually a man in reflective orange vest emerged from the woods, watching us intently. I whistled for the dogs, excepting to hear a shotgun blast, until I saw his tripod. A surveyor from Portland General Electric, deep in the woods midweek. Neat job. At least as long as December offered up sun instead of snow or rain. We wandered back onto the trail, regretting it almost instantly as the snow deepened and thoughts of homemade snowshoes entered our minds. The trail led us away from the lake, and knowing we were lengthening the distance of our hike, we stayed keenly focused on the glimmer of blue that would lead us back to the lake and sun. The dogs kept frolicking, except Suzy, who hated her pointy claws punching through the snow. She hurky jerked down the trail, seeming to think that moving quickly would end the experience sooner. If she hadn’t kept running back to us she may have been right in that assumption.
Eventually we found our way to whatever the lake equivalent is tidelands is. Stumps rose out of the snow and flocks of birds scattered into the blue. We found a snowy log to cross a stream, only realizing a few hundred feet further that we needed to cross again to undo that mistake and to keep the lake on our right as one must do when completing a circle. That fording didn’t go quite as dryly. We slapped down frozen, rotten logs to tightrope across. The Jamison ensuring that our feet missed the mark and sunk our sneakers into the mountain stream. Sloshing down the lake, we forgave our frozen feet as the sun melted closer to the treeline. The shoreline turned from frozen sand to boulders, more stable but required a bit more focus to traverse. And the sun ticked as it eased closer and closer to the trees. Looking across the lake, waves and blue yawned between us and the gap on the far shore where Sally’s car sat. I glanced at my watch and two hours of sunlight didn’t seem sufficient to reach vehicular warmth by sunset. But by now we were over halfway and the only option was onward. Scrambling to the treeline, a shrill and proud chirping overhead opened my heart to this place. I had not seen a Bald Eagle in Oregon even though I’ve lived here for fifteen months now. We couldn’t see it yet but then a small black speck deep in the sky gave away it’s flight. Then another, maybe it’s mate, dipped low by the trees, briefly close before it caught a thermal and soared upward. Now we weaved through the scraggly trees still living on the bank above the beach. Passing fire rings and wooden camp benches we switched from shore to bank as we paralleled the far side of the lake where we’d arrived.
Finally we caught the main trail and followed yet another finger to a wooden bridge to cross what we hoped would be one of the last inlets that lengthened our trip as we were forced to follow a winding shore rather than any sort of efficient linear path that may spare us a moonlit hike. That’s when we realized Charlie was missing. We stopped and waited. Then started whistling. Then hollering. Then searching. Sally went off-trail as I walked back the way we came. Charlie is not the most savvy dog out there and has been found in the bottom of a well after one of his adventures. He’s Timmy, not Lassie. With less than an hour of daylight and miles left before us, anger and worry started creeping in as Charlie maintained his absence. As I imagined life without that furry bear of a numbskull dog he came bounding down the trail, obviously deep behind us in pursuit of whatever joy he’d seen off-trail. His happiness turned to concern as he saw the look on my face and he slowed to a plod, tail down. I told him he was an asshole an clipped his leash onto his collar, punishing myself as much as him as I hooked up my ball and chain for the rest of the walk. With a sense of purpose to beat the tick of the sun we kept on, following the trail, crossing the bridge, and then beating our way back off-trail to the lakeshore. This last stretch was the most silent. Hats were donned and layering resumed. The grey and violet of dusk settled around us like a shawl. Except a shawl that had been left in the freezer instead of the closet. Eventually Murphy ended up in Sally’s backpack. He put up zero fight as she lowered him into the bag, simply shivering as he was zipped into the pack. He never attempted escape for the remaining miles. Looking back, Mount Hood surprised us, rising up beyond the lake as proud as those eagles, content in the fading light. The lights of a ski slope twinkled on it’s northern slope. It grew larger and larger as we walked southward. The moon rose out of the east, offering a gentle warning in lieu of the departed sun. Twilight allowed visibility that crept away, but never fully left us as our eyes adjusted and the moon twinkled off the snow-bitten slopes of the lake. We tripped more and talked less. I felt to blame for the lack of planning on how long it takes to walk 13 miles when it’s mostly in snow and over rock, even if it is pancake flat. But, an hour into dark we stumbled onto pavement and a quarter mile from Sally’s car. Murphy was released from his pack, Charlie kept on his leash and chatter resumed. Hamstrings tight as bent saplings we eased into the car, eager for heated seats and no more steps. The conversation was slow and easy as wine on the forty five minute drive back to town. The icy road proved no challenge for Sally’s Midwestern driving skills. And it was with much anticipation that we parked in front of Fearless Brewing, eager to make good on talks of double bacon cheeseburgers and multiple beers. The food was subpar and the service cool, as it usually is there, in spite of the vacant tables. But, we wolfed down a basket of fries and our overcooked burgers without complaint. The beer was cheap and delicious, even the winter ale that I’d usually avoid but felt compelled to order because “warmth” was in the description.
We parted ways in the parking lot of Estacada’s only grocery store. I had to lift Charlie into the Subaru and realized he’ll feel worse than me in the morning, taking into account his dog years. I got home to the gremlin cats and a cold house but the heat was soon blowing and the dogs, bellies full, curled into their beds. I thought of you last night as I do most nights (and days). I watched Moonshiners for the first time and most of The Jerk for the third or fourth. Eyes and heart heavy I crawled into bed, Lily soon digging under the covers and nestling into the crook of my arm as she does almost every night. I lay there in that empty tideland between sleep and wakefulness. I realized I’d forgotten to write to you today, as I’ve done every day since we last spoke. So, I thought of you instead. I thought to you that I love you. It occurred to me that even though I think that many times every day, I haven’t heard it spoken for three weeks. It’s probably over between you and I. That thought settled deep into my chest as sleep closed in. Your pictures still surround me in this house. They rest on every surface. The cards you gave me hang in their place. Your childhood memories stay scattered across the fridge. Your clothes still hang in the closet and your shoes are mixed with mine at the door. But, things don’t make people and I figure someday soon even those things won’t be here to keep me wishing things had ended differently. I wrote to you this morning to make up for yesterday and added it to the folder of love letters that you will probably never read. But, that’s the point I suppose. This isn’t for you. It’s more me. This journey is not planned. It’s off-trail and the footing is poor. But, when you travel in a circle your only option to keep walking to where you began.

The Very Last Country Song

2011-12-22T22:16:00.001-08:00

If nobody did nobody wrong
If we knew what we had before it was gone
If every road led back home
Then this would be the very last country song

Typical country, right? And your dog used your toothbrush before he ran off with your ex-wife's daughter-in-law. Maybe there's somethin' to this one though.

2011-11-29T11:08:00.000-08:00

I used to think context was physical. That meaning was rooted in longterm commitment to a specific place. I don't know that this is false now. (I don't know much I've discovered, to tell you the truth.) But, I've discovered a new joy in exploration. Not knowing the backroads down here, not knowing the reputations of the different towns, not knowing the best (and worst) places to grab a burger, this is all becoming exciting rather than daunting. Moving away from my home initially made me hyper-sensitive to my outsider status in a place where most of the people I know now grew up. Now, I was the foreigner, the one gives you that blank look when you have to get more and more general when telling me how to find a great hike you're recommending or what town you grew up in. I hated that transition, from knowing all the nooks and crannies of Puget Sound to not even knowing if a town is on the east or west side of the state. I dunno what fog is finally lifting but I'm starting to chomp at the bit to get out and wallow in my ignorance. I want to buy a black and white map of the state of Oregon and starting filling it in, with color, as I figure out what's where. I'd always imagined living somewhere open when I was a kid. I fantasized about yawning landscapes and pine forests. That was an impossibility in the tucked in, cloud covered, soggy Puget Sound basin, that place I never thought I'd leave. Now that those ties are cut, at least for the time being, I wonder what sort of weird prairie Oregon is hiding. The Willamette Valley has already claimed a portion of my heart. Corvallis started digging in before I ever considered Oregon. Now it feels like my home away from home. It's even starting to get some depth and hold a little bit of sadness rather than two-dimensional good times. Like any good place, history isn't going to be all roses. But, getting back to the point at hand, I think I may have set aside the urge to feel at home somewhere. I'm not sure yet, it's been such an obsession for so long, but I don't feel that same intensity to feel belonging right now. I just feel excitement for discovery. Maybe this is the whole point. Maybe in releasing that need to control your comfort, you open yourself to a vulnerability that's necessary to truly be welcomed home. I suppose there is only one way to find out.

2011-11-21T08:44:00.000-08:00

In the backyard the piled leaves lay soggy and stubborn as the wind kicked the last remaining maple leaves from the branches. Sky, the color of doubt, thickened and drew near, unapologetically eavesdropping. The woodstove grunted as I dropped in the still-wet hunk of fir. It looked like a dog had spent the summer gnawing the edges. I was just grateful this piece didn't drip with fat black carpenter ants. Earlier, the intrusion of my rusted old maul into a round of cherry explosded ants across the concrete patio. I danced across their flash mob, thoroughly crushing months of practice and choreography. As the woodstove groaned and creaked, James Taylor pleaded, "Go on and do as you please, You ain't gonna see me gettin' down on my knees." Most of the rain outside missed it's landzin zone, the overflowing koi pond (minus the koi), and pelted into the plastic awning over the patio or thudded on the grass, already an inch deep in water. Then it paused, taking a breath like a falled toddler, and the blitz continued. Stepping outside, hands in pockets, I walked the ten minutes to the mailbox. The wind held me as if it were thinking of someone else, but still eased in through the gaps in my layers to touch and chill my skin. The skyt was wooled and heavy to the east, thinning as it extended, reaching west to the horizon and the ocean. A sliver of blue lay across the western sky like the last slive of pie in the pan, or the answer you wanted to a question you didn't want to ask. I looked across the field of Christmas trees surrounding the house, wondering when they'd be harvested. I assumed they'd be cut one day while I was away at work and I'd return to find they'd finally taken what was never really mine.

2011-11-19T21:16:00.000-08:00

Sometimes things open up in ways you don't expect or anticipate. Sort of like playing sports. You may have had one play in mind but you can't control what the other team is going to do. You could take the ball and run (my prerogative usually) or you can look up, see what the defense is offering you even if it seems they're taking something away. It might make the most sense for you to keep the ball, muscle your way upfield, drive as far as you can. Or it might make sense to pass. I've never been good at passing. I get blinders on and only see what's right in front of me. I tend to go deaf and mostly get bloodthirsty and just want to hit contact and drive through it - the dumbest, simplest, sometimes most rewarding way to achieve progress.

I'm not real sure where to go from here. A lot has changed, some in ways I orchestrated and anticipated and some in ways I hadn't considered... those damn blinders again. But, lessons are learned every day, every play, every decision we make has repercussions. When you feel like you aren't getting any momentum on the field the key is to always go back to your most basic gameplan. Move the ball. Those meters turn into tries eventually if you're willing to give a little to get a lot.

Maybe winning isn't what I imagined it to be. Or maybe winning is beside the point in this game.

I'm The Newcomer Now

2011-10-15T17:13:00.000-07:00

Almost a decade ago, I read a book that anchored the building resentment and restlessness I’d felt since my family’s exodus from the 5 acres that I’d called home from age 3 to 17. Ana Maria Spagna’s collection of essays, Now Go Home: Wilderness, Belonging and the Crosscut Saw, gave me a purchase point from which to begin making amends with my anger at displacement. I felt justified in blaming Calfornians for my problem. The heightened housing market down South allowed Californians to buy houses in Washington the same way we used to buy clothes in British Columbia. Their dollar beat ours and in return we had to beat it as they moved into our houses, basements gurgling with bloated property taxes and sales prices. It seemed fair to blame the newcomers, even though some of my best friends, and later a longterm relationship, all originated from California. (It wasn’t them, it was the other Californians, the greedy ones). Scapegoating felt appropriate. It was easier to blame Californians for the sale of our family farm rather than confront the reality that my parents had been divorced for five years and it was time for my mom to move on, and in with someone else. Just because I felt at home on that 12 by 6 mile piece of rock in the middle of the Puget Sound didn’t mean my mom did. She was lonely, overworked, and eager for a connection with someone other than her two teenage kids. But, why bother acknowledging the complicated reality when there were BMWs and Land Rovers parked on either side of my Chevy pickup in the senior parking lot at the island’s one high school? It was easier to hate Them.

Neat tangent. What I really wanted to write about was what the hell has happened in ten years. I read Ana Maria’s book, a few times, and eventually wrote my college thesis on home and the housing market and if the two were compatible. I concluded that the out of control real estate market was in the business of selling the idea of Home: comfort, community, familiarity, friendship, family, safety… You could buy some or all depending on how many zeros you tacked onto that sales price. But the idea of a house as a financial investment and a commodity increased traffic and turnover of an already restless population. As Americans, and especially West Coasters, we have shallow roots. It’s easy to move to the next best place if it holds more promise than an underwhelming reality of here, this place. But moving and selling for more than you bought a place for, and sniffing out a community and deciding it’s not what you’d been looking for, I think, started pulling even harder at an unraveling thread of community in these fragile small places. I concluded my thesis that maybe I was wrong in asserting that everyone stop moving like the whistle had been blown in a game of freeze tag. Maybe it was unrealistic to assume that everyone could afford, or find happiness in staying put. So, I proposed that the next best thing would be to really get after whatever community you are currently a part of. Really live it up and help enrich it while you’re a part of it. Rather than sitting on the dock, jump on in because only being at the lake for a day is no reason not to stay on shore. Just be sure you pick up your cans when you leave and maybe leave a fiver in the parks donation box. And, for goodness sake, wave to the people at the campsite nextdoor, maybe even invite them over for a hobo sandwich and a beer. I figured if we could do something positive for this place we’re in today, it would be penance towards those little tears that are the result of us pulling up stakes and moving to the next place. Even if permanence is too much to ask of an impatient culture, maybe thoughtfulness wasn’t.

And that was five years ago now. It was easy to preach about community involvement. I’d been a resident of Seattle for much of the time since my mom had sold the farm. I’d spent a small stint volunteering as a firefighter on the peninsula, some time at a college in Oakland, California and a brutal six months in the cultural wasteland of Redmond, Washington. Besides that I’d made Seattle my home, unintentionally. I went to school there, I coached a college rugby team there, I played on my own city rugby team, I worked at the same family-owned store for years, I biked most of my routes in the city rather than driving, I left only to see my mom on an island to the north and my dad on a peninsula to the west. Seattle had become home and all of my unintentional ties had me firmly rooted to that landscape. I was still resentful of being in a city, fancying myself a country gal by birth, but I told myself it was temporary and I’d get out of the city soon enough. I just didn’t forsee how or where that would happen.

Getting the job offer in Portland, Oregon was a no-brainer. It was a crappy economy and getting worse. Job applications over the past two and a half years had turned up exactly zero offers of employment and word on the street was 4,500 applications had been allotted for maybe a hundred openings and to turn down those odds would have surely assured me a lifetime of holding up a cardboard sign as payback for being an idiot. So, I moved. I left the people I now considered family at work, I left the street signs I didn’t even need to look at, I left the muddy drunk college girls and the friends I’d known since we were those girls. I left the possibility of having dinner on a whim with my parents. The one thing I did not leave was the low-ceiling grey that apparently blankets the throat of the Columbia in as tight of an embrace as it holds the Puget Sound. The grey stayed, even though more than one person told me the weather was better down here. I suppose the Eskimos have over a hundred words for snow. Slight variations on wooly grey cloudcover is our expertise. It was rain, the same persistent death by a thousand drops that rolls in daily from the Pacific Ocean along this entire Northwestern coastline. It’s the only place in the world that could have had the motivation to turn the entire world to the drug of choice for the Northwest: caffeine, a vitamin D replacement for us who have moss growing out of our ears.

And I am still sidetracked. I’ve been in Portland (or the greater Portland area I should say) for 13 months now. Today it’s grey. But I’m sitting in a house hunkered a couple hundred feet from the lip of a canyon that opens up to the foothills of Mount Hood. Being the final stop for clouds that need to lighten their load to make the ascent to Eastern Oregon, it’s a bit wetter and darker here than a little further southwest in the wine country of the Willamette Valley. But, I take some solace in the pointy snowy shape of Mount Hood more than I would with a few more degrees of sun and a few less inches of rain. It’s no Mount Rainier that’s for sure. My mom always called Rainier “Grandpa’s Ice Cream Cone”. I don’t really know why but if Rainier is an ice cream cone, than Hood is an Otter Pop. Pointy and snaky, but a snow-topped mountain nonetheless. And Mount Adams is sometimes visible to the north and that’s even better, a true blue Washington mountain. I do miss the ranges though. Here, a snow peak will just stick up out of the foothills like a hitchiker’s thumb, like the other mountains left it in the dust on the family road trip. But, further north, (further home) the mountains are like teeth in a saw, too numerous to count even though they all have names.

And still not getting to the point. Okay, I think my point is that Ms. Spagna wrote another book. I just started reading it. I think I’m really going to like it. I’m living in a house on five acres that I bought a couple months ago. As happy as I am to have a little foothold outside the metro area down here I still think about home every day. The semi-permanence of a mortgage payment is good for me, it keeps me from giving up on newness, difference, unfamiliarity, and going back to what I know and trust further north. But, I do hole up here. I’ve seen very little of my neighbors even though I know all two of them are kind and good-hearted people, people I’d like to know better. I haven’t gone to church yet even though I’ve told myself that if ever there was a time to check out that dirty little habit now was that time. I haven’t turned out for the local rugby team, not good enough shape is my excuse there. And I haven’t really stepped foot in the community with any more effort than a Hi How Are You at the checkout counter of the local grocer. Here I am, the person I wrote my thesis on and following my own advice is a lot harder than when I was 21 years old and dolling it out like it’s what I was paid to do. In my gut, I want Washington to be where I raise a family, where I continue cultivating friends, where I grow old. But, in the interim, I need to open up a small piece of my heart to Oregon. It’s where I am, where I own a home, and, most importantly, who cuts my paycheck. It’s where my girlfriend feels at home and where her mom’s family’s from and her mom lives now. It feels strange to welcome a stranger into my home but I guess I’m the stranger, not this place. It’s always been here. I’m the newcomer now.

No Goals

2011-10-11T14:15:00.000-07:00

A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.
~ Lao Tzu (whoever that is)

So, if you know me at all this will be a radical departure from my normal mode of operation. But, I'm going to try to give up goals and plans. I think it's fair to say that I'm a driven individual. I tend to get an idea of what I want and I run with it, run until my feet are bloody and lungs are ragged. It's not as noble as it sounds - it's more like that dog that keeps dropping the tennis ball at your feet, drooling and staring and breathing as fast a hummingbird until you throw the ball just to get a few seconds of peace before it smacks down again at your feet, warm wet and sticky. But, just like the ball always comes back, I'm 28 years old and have the job of my dreams, 5 acres, two dogs and even an old red pickup. It's just as I'd imagined it'd play out. Except for the part about being 300 miles from where I grew up and stockpiled all my life's history. That was a curveball. So, now I'm left with this question, what's the point of goals if us control freaks can't even affect the exact outcome we want because we can't anticipate all of the variables? Maybe planning and goal-setting are as big of time wasters as the Internet and TV. I know for me they sure do suck a lot time. It's actually a bit of a stress-coping mechanism for me. Planning is the alternative to cracking open a beer. In either scenario after enough listing or beer drinking I've ceased to care about my problems, either because I've deluded myself into thinking they're solved or I've inebriated myself to the point of not caring that they exist. The idea of letting go of these vices (I'm gonna get on that limb and give them that designation) is that, like any bad habit, it makes you feel good on some level even if it's destroying your mind or body on another. The idea of following that yellow brick road, even if I don't know where it's going, is much safer than venturing into that freaky apple orchard with the witch. But maybe the witch just got a bad rap and how'd you ever know she's actually a great person unless you made the time for an afternoon chat over some autumn apples?

I'm thinking that this could be a disastrous path and I might still be drooling and starting but this time at the TV at 2pm with a bib of brownie crumbs on my chest. But, at the ol' homestead there's always a project to do, a dog to be walked, a meal to be cooked or a book to be read. I think I can keep busy without it being step in the march toward a greater plan.

The reason I don't want these plans is because I truly don't know what I want anymore. I have the job. I have the relationship. I have the house. I just didn't quite see it all unfolding this way and am left holding my to-do lists like they're a 2007 interest-only mortgage. I'm tempted to plan my way right back to the Puget Sound and put this whole debacle in my rearview. But, then I run the risk of fleeing something I don't understand and making that classic mistake of blaming the environment when I'm the true problem. Which is not to say I don't wish I was home right this very second. I do, almost every minute of every day. I miss the smells, the breeze, the mountains, the water, my family and friends. So much. But, I'm here now and even if there's no greater reason for it - it's the reality and I might as well do my best to immerse myself in this time, this place and see what it has to contribute to me and what I have to contribute to it. I certainly hope, at this time, that my path eventually plops me back where I believe I belong: close to family and in familiar territory. But, in the meantime, I stress and fret over the mundane and day-t0-day in such a manner that I'm going to be grey by December and mute and wild-eyed by next October.

Yesterday I had a bit of a break down. I don't need to go into details because they're embarrassing, even for an invite-only blog, but I hit a bottom I didn't know was so shallow. The tipping point was probably Saturday's work. There were messy calls and sad calls and when the social dust settled and I'd finished spending time with friends for the bulk of my two days off, I slipped into such concentrated sadness I didn't even know how to be in my body while feeling the way I felt. It was a feeling I'd felt once before as a teenager and hoped never to feel again. The weight of the last day on work had just been sitting on me like a gargoyle and as soon as I was alone long enough for it to sense helplessness it just pounced. And it made me realize that attempting to be good at what I do in a vacuum is not going to work out. That's all I know right now. I know that socially, physically, spiritually, mentally, emotionally, I need foundations to settle into on days like Sunday or yesterday. I need some push-back so I don't just sink into the muck.

Again, I don't know where I'll end up but I'm going to turn the reins over to a better horseman than me. I'm going to try my best to live each day. I'm going to work when I'm at work and play, learn and rest on my days off. But, I don't know any more detail than that. I put a lot of stock in gut feelings so I'll be following my gut rather than my heart when the time for decision comes. It's larger and easier to see anyhow so I'm less likely to get lost in pursuit.

Who Says You Can't Go Home?

2011-09-30T11:27:00.000-07:00

Of everything I miss about home, the smell of salt air is the deepest. It's a clean, wild smell. It smells like tomorrow and yesterday. It's sweet, subdued, wet, crisp. It's the smell of persistence, a nature that remembers a time before us and a compromise to allow us to settle in the islands and shorelines for the time being. It's the smell of truce. I caught my first whiff in months when Jackie and I were driving through SeaTac. My throat ached and my chest opened with longing for the mudflats, the mountain ranges, the ferries, the seagulls, the pockets of lakes, and the twisting web of rivers, streams, creaks and brooks that lace the Puget Sound basin. I wanted familiarity and history once more. I wanted to know how to pronounce the local towns rather then being the person calling "Couch" street couch like you sit on rather than couch like rhymes with pooch. I wanted to be able to smile at an out-of-towner tackle behemoths like Sequim, Dosewallips, Deschutes and Sauk. I wanted the rest of the state to be filled in like a topographical map, rather than a taut white canvas. I suppose some people find excitement in filling in a blank map, discovering new places, expanding their geography. I find a deep comfort in further detailing a local map, knowing where Frog Rock is and that the rock painted like a lady bug is new ten years ago, knowing what corner stores sell the best 5cent candy, if it's worth taking the long way today because the clouds are lifting. The challenge of a blank map is better left to adventurers like my sister. She's always been braver than me, eager for new lands, new languages, new experiences. I've always been detail-oriented, sometimes obsessive over minutia. I don't have grand ambitions and would happily settle in the rainy Puget Sound for my entire life, deepening friendships, visiting with family in the mossy forests around the Hood Canal, watching Charlie stand front feet on the bow of a small speed boat bumping along the Strait of Juan de Fuca, standing on the pitch of a trail for the hundreth time feeling like it's the first as I watch cloud roll beneath me and see the waterways of my home slowly bleed toward the sea.

I did buy a house. I don't think I've even mentioned it in this blog yet. It's an '85 mobile home on 5 acres on the top of a forested canyon that opens up the the foothills of Mount Hood. You can see Mount Hood and Mount Adams from the backyard. Cricket song thickens the air and grasshoppers chatter away from any footfall. The ground is hard red clay, hesitant to absorb any rainfall but, remembering it's thirst, unforgiving to quench. There are pines rather than cedars but the Doug Firs seem to enjoy both the Willamette Valley and the Puget Sound equally. Massive limbed maples perch on the hillside, rather than the hard red Madronas back home. With the exception of the insects, it's a quiet place, and even the hum of the crickets and bees is the simple static of the countryside. I feel lucky to have such a humble and beautiful place to come home to. It took me two months to even get my address marked on the gravel easement. There was something appealing about not even having a road marker to let anyone know where I was. Tucked against timber and public lands, it's a small place to set aside everything else, to just be. And that's what I've been up to all summer - just being at home. It is home, in it's own sense. It's not familiar and, even though I hold the title to the land, I feel like a guest. But, it's a place I slowly adapt to my understanding of what home is and it adapts me to it's blue skies and autumn windstorms. I have something to learn there. It comes in installments. This summer I learned that home is still as elusive as ever and a monthly mortgage does not entitle one to a home, even though one may be paying off a house. But, when I force myself to be quiet and to stay open-minded to what this place has to say, I feel drawn in a little tighter. If I ever leave I like to think I'd be ready to give this place a hug rather than a handshake. We're getting to know each other slowly, but a lot of good things come from patience and respect. If I can remember just those two things, I'll appreciate this little piece of Oregon even if while missing what I still consider home.

2011-06-30T22:17:00.000-07:00

The last couple days have been different. Tuesday I went to the doctor. I went in for a check-up, the kind you feel like you should bring roses and breathmints to. I was not prepared for the 50s style physical though where I learned I have scoliosis, SI joint disfunction, post-nasal drip, amongst other attractive maledictions. I was getting ready to ask the doc to just get on with it because every time she laid her hands on me another affliction surfaced. I was waiting for someone to roll a walker in for me to leave the joint. Or, worse, show me down the hall to the extended-stay suites. So, that was a neat way to feel old and a fancy way to learn I have bad posture, tight IT bands and a disagreement with the breeding season of Oregon's flora. I left in a flurry of productivity that was instantly funneled towards trying to figure out how to get to Best Buy. I could see it... I just couldn't find the road to get me there. I burned 30 minutes and probably a gallon of diesel weaving around industry, swamp and airport hotels. Only to find out Best Buy charges $30 for a plastic film to protect one's iPad and left empty-handed on principle.

Wednesday, at work, I finally felt like I hit my stride, or something at least less awkward than the gimping, sniveling creep I'd been the previous six shifts. I talked. I drove a bit. I joked. Finally I felt like I was regaining some sense of humanity/confidence after the previous 9 months of training and wintery isolation with Suzy and Charlie. Not that I don't talk to them, they just don't think my jokes are funny so I sort of lost my touch. That was nice and helped me close out my first month of probation feeling a little less toadlike than it began.

And then we're at Thursday, today. It started with a drive home to let the poor dogs out, only to lock them up again and jet down to Clackamas to sign on the house. The title lady scribbled a number on a piece of paper and shoved it across the table to me. It took a minute for it to register that that magical number was something I was supposed to be wiring to them immediately after I signed my name (middle initial included) four thousand times in about fifteen minutes. Because the house closed a week early I was short half of that amount as it was not in electronic lightningspeed wire form, but rather, old-timey, touchable, forgable check form. I tried to keep my cool, and learn how to input an L between my first and last name, and left in a frenzy of fear, damp with the kind of sweat you only get if you haven't showered and sweated profusely without physical effort. The Housing Center sure did have my checks and sure could not wire the funds instead. So, there was much pocket-turning and couch cushion spelunking for me to come up the funds on my own, but I finally returned to the title company to hand over my checks and tell my unsympathetic new friend that I'd sure like to see that chunk of change again once they cleared. Then I went home to wait. At 3:15 Jamie texted to say she had keys for me. I'd crept around my house being mildly productive but mostly nervous. Some cleaning had taken place and much pacing. After the third drive of the day down to exit 14 I had two pieces of cheap metal in hand that had cost me more than I care to think about, now or ever. And, somewhere thirty miles to the southeast, was a doorknob enjoying the quiet of the afternoon on a cloudy hillside.

I came home and packed two rooms in the evening, played chase with the dogs, drank some homebrew over the fence with Shelley and Larry. In the last days of living here on 157th I've talked to Shelley more and more and realize how much I'll miss being able to get to know them. But I hope to maintain that connection. They have been the kindest and most supportive strangers I've ever met and I would love to know them better as friends.

One last thought, I called around with some local phone companies to find out how much it would be to set up service. They were unsure who's jurisdiction I was in and one company took it upon themselves to drive to the house to get a physical spot on it. The gentleman on the phone called me three times to verify the address and to let me know he didn't think it was there service area but he'd find out whose it was. He called me back once just to let me know which company I should contact to start service. Then I had a follow-up call from their (small) office an hour later to check and see if I knew that company had changed names and did I need their number. Going through so much effort to help out a competing company? I didn't understand but I sure did appreciate it and let them know.

It's a little sad to pack, as it always is. But, this time I'm going off to get to know a place. Real well.

Need to get to know a place real well.

2011-06-27T11:21:00.000-07:00

Mowed the grass for the first time this year without having to pop wheelies and stall out on huge grass buildup in the mower. Pretty neat, took me about 30 minutes as opposed to over an hour. I am trying to keep this yard looking nice since it sounds like the landlords may be posting this old nag up for rent any time now. It will be bitter sweet leaving this house. I feel strangled by Charlie's puppies (hairballs), moldy window casings, piss ants marching through the bathtub and along my bedroom walls, and now the unbeatable smell of a cat litter box. I don't really help things by wearing my shoes inside and leaving beer cans scattered about. It really does give the little place an ambiance that a downtown hipster probably has to pay an interior decorator for. Maybe that could be my next gig... helping trustfund babies look like poor white trash. Maybe I shouldn't throw out those beer cans quite yet. (or join the minions of Rose Park at the local can deposit, it's not enough to see them at work, got to socialize on the off-days too). Anyway, the lawn is now mowed. Step number 1 in getting the heck out of this place so I can go destroy a house I own.

crazy heart

2011-06-21T22:36:00.000-07:00

I had a thought today. A couple actually. I guess that happens when you walk up a hill with two dogs and a whole lot of trees. I suppose it's maybe because it's summer now, or because the god awful training is finally in the rearview. Or maybe it's the looming possibility of getting out of the city for good. But, I thought today that I'd really like to take in the next year, the next ten, or however many I'm given. For someone who can't stop worrying about the future I really did learn something from the present today. It was warm, quiet, easy to get along with. I have a bad habit of getting caught up in preparing like a piece of yarn in a loom. I don't know how long it will last but I had this thought when I was watching a movie, Crazy Heart. Dad and son were out lake fishing at sundown and I thought that looked pretty good, and I'd like to get a boat and sit on the lake. Then, I remembered that I had a good day as is, without a boat, and that, when that time came, it'd be the right time to have a boat. It was a novel concept to me. I tend to get a thought in my head and can't settle until that thought's been played out. That habit is going to have me being 50 before I know it. I'll probably get a lot done in the meantime but I don't think I'll know I've done it. I think I've gotten enough done in the past year to be able to take the rest some time off. I just need to finish what I've started and I think the rest of it will be on hold. Feels pretty awesome to feel that way.

Old man Charlie was a champ today. He badonkadonked his way up that mountain like a good ol' boy. He had a moment where he went down after some chipmunk or something or other and had to climb his way back up a steep slope. That took the wind out of his sails for the rest of the hike down, but luckily down it was. He slept outside until just about half an hour ago. He really likes sleeping out in the driveway or yard. I think he'll like being able to have that option at the new place. A whole 5 acres to piss on and sleep outside, paradise for an old hairy man.

Speaking of which, I am so excited to move to the new place. I can't believe how quickly it's arriving. Stuff just keeps falling into place. Someone was out yesterday and today installing those damn tie-downs so we can get the financing. The engineer has a check in the mail and an appointment for Thursday. The IDA decided not to kick me to the curb afterall and I can get a check next week from the sound of things. Crazy how it's all working out (you bet I just knocked on wood, little fairies stay back).

My dogs are out like I shot them both dead in the living room. Buster is somewhere in the wilds of the Gresham/Portland border. Lily has shit just outside the litter box twice this evening. I think she came in from outside to do so. And both times it was liquid. Pretty awesome, having indoor cats. I'm not living like this at the new house, no way jose. No dirt slippers or hairballs everywhere you turn, or ants, or bowel movements. I'm not enjoying it.

I did enjoy today though.

water to water

2011-05-28T18:42:00.000-07:00

I grew up on an island. It rained a lot. When the grey settles around an island you suspend like ashes in smoke, grey water, grey sky, grey rain, no mainland. Like wool socks, you might smell musty but there was always comfort in the thickness of the clouds drizzle. I was never one for swimming or boating. But, the boundaries imposed by island-life give me heart palpitations at the thought of living land locked.

Uncle Frank died last Saturday. His service was yesterday. My dad had been out there, mowing the grass, painting a flooded basement, riding back from the hospital in the ambulance with his brother. He helped with the funeral and flight arrangements. My cousins and my sister and I look like we're siblings, Zimmerman genes not ones to go recessive without a fight. But, watching them keep a stiff upper lip at the service made me realize what a strong silence is present in all of them. It hurt to see them so solemn, not in pride but shouldering a sadness so great silence seemed the only way to heft the burden. The air was thick with moisture, the sweet decaying smell of duff and crowded highways. Ashes were poured. I felt guilty and ashamed for the tightness in my throat, watching my cousins bear this loss with such grace and love for their dad and each other. Air like breath already breathed, damp and alive.

Back home in Seattle the sun came out, smacking down weather.com yet again. The sky opened blue and eager, breezy and soft. Out in Discovery Park the yellow of the scotch broom was sharp, almost mean, against the crisp water of the Sound. I miss this place. I feel porous, nostalgic with the salty snap of the air. The train weaves along the Sound like a water snake, passing ferries, fishermen, bridges, eagles, acres of trees along the shore, until it darts into the weeds along the lowland, twisting away from the water through, and past, Olympia.

A Little Less North On This Country Mile

2011-05-17T20:14:00.000-07:00

I started this blog because I wanted to write about my experience finding my home. Since starting it a couple years ago my contributions to it have been hit and miss. I sort of gave up the ghost on it once I moved to Portland. I was no longer home. It was a city that had been the butt of many of my jokes. I entered a fast-paced, high-stress phase of my life. This past winter, fall and spring has been trying, to say the least. I moved to a small house on the edge of town with just my two dogs. I started a new job, convinced I'd be let go before I got my feet. The days shrunk, the rain moved in, the holidays blazed by with just one wreath on the door and an unopened box of Christmas cards. Mid-May and just now the green is settling in and the rains are hard and mean, relieved by bouts of mean sunshine. And, I still am working hard, always tested and pushing through longs days one hour, one drill at a time. I faded away from friendships that meant everything to me. I settled into a routine of reading, highlighting, drinking longnecks and tallboys as I studied, walks in the rain to throw the ball to wet, wagging piles of fur. Connections with friends and family are always via technology that didn't exist twenty years ago. My thoughts seem like they have become more pets that I need to exercise and feed and that occasionally crap on the floor of my house. I wish there were thought-walkers. I'd pay them $20/hr to take my worries and guilt out on a nice long walk so it would have a little less bounce in its step when it got home. I've hit rock bottom more than once, blubbering to myself as I go to sleep or sit at my kitchen table. I've been mean and distant, tense and unapproachable. I've blamed and thrown more than one low blow, sometimes at myself (those damn frisky thoughts).

Tonight I saw Charlie licking the dry bottom of his water dish. I got up from my studies and grabbed his bowl of water. As I picked it up I saw him watching me, wagging his tail like there was just a slight breeze in the room. I scratched him behind his ears and he closed his eyes. After filling up the water dish I picked up his brush and sat on the steps. He plodded out behind me and sat next to me, starring straight ahead. I brushed his old-man fur. It is gnarled and dusty from nine months of hard indoor living. He is my dog and he has cared for me more than I have cared for him. He lay down hard when I moved to his other side, sprawled on the small concrete stoop so far that his shoulders and head were only supported by the low bush bordering the step. All this time I have wondered, what about me. What have I done moving so far from everything I know. Why is my life so hard and lonely. And this whole time I have two creatures always within twenty feet of me, patiently waiting for a walk or a ball tossed or a trip to the river. I saw a bumpersticker today that said "You are loved." My mind snorted and I started to think what sort of retard would put that sort of fluff on their vehicle. Then I thought that somewhere south of me, somewhere north of me, there are people who think of me and get a warm feeling in their heart, the same way I feel when I think of them. There are people who I may not talk to every day, or maybe I do, and those people include me in their world. This simple piece of joy had me floating as I pulled into my driveway to an empty house. Being able to carry a little bit of love with you always makes the short days long and the rain a little more lovely. I felt like I'd come home.

creeping towards home-ownership

2011-03-12T10:58:00.000-08:00

The farmhouse in Amity looks like a no-go. There is a county road that bisects the property, making it near impossible to get financing. I looked under the couch cushions but came up a little short on the $219,000 asking price. However, I checked out a few homes yesterday. Most of them were places I wouldn't take money to live in, let alone hemorrhage half my paycheck to afford. I drove east and found out where the witch from Hansel and Gretel lives. She's selling her house but the road to it looks like it could be a rough-go in the winter. It probably didn't occur to her since she can fly out on her broom any time of the year. But, it would be a problem to live that deep and need to get to work. I hustled out of there before she saw me so I wouldn't end up on the lunch menu. Of 7 houses I drove by, 5 of them were super sick, overgrown trailers in nasty neighborhoods. A little dispiriting. Two were gorgeous though. Views, nice neighborhoods, acreage, outbuildings. They were both about $15,000 above my price range but times are tough and prices go down. One of them looks like the house I grew up in, a brown 70s split level. It has a view of farms and Mt Hood, acres of Christmas trees, barns, and nextdoor to someone who raises Brahma bulls. Neat. Hopefully I am going to check it out soon. Also, I am still crossing my fingers on getting that IDA money. If I could scrape $3,000 together, the State of Oregon will give me $9,000 for help with the downpayment and closing costs. Neat neat deal. And, my truck set me back another chunk in my debt, seems like it always does that when I am close to paying off my credit card debt. She does keep me honest in that regard. But she runs like a dream now so I can't complain. Got the pincher move going with finances, trying to stockpile savings in case I get the IDA approval and pay off debt so that doesn't stress me out. I am really excited to get a home. I think it will be the death knoll for my social life, but it's not hoppin' right now anyway and I'd rather spend my day gardening or riding my horse or chopping wood than watching 24 in Gresham in my sweat pants.

2011-03-09T21:21:00.001-08:00

I can see why people put leading, vague, mellow-dramatic posts on facebook. I am in one of those moods where I am sighing heavily to myself alone in my house and wanting to write things like "excited for this week to be over" or "sure do miss home at times like these", that sort of poor-me shit. But, instead I procrastinated on homework I should have done, listened to the rain attack the shit out of this poor old shed of a house, took a bath in a bathtub full of dog hair and drank a Hamms tallboy. It's been a day of terse conversations, lots of driving, and more than a little bit of thought on my re-take at work tomorrow. I haven't studied much for it because I feel like I understand what I need to do, I just felt like that the first time too. So we'll see. And Lent started today. I was never confirmed as a Catholic and haven't stepped foot in mass since I was a kiddo and have no desire to return to the Church, but something about the consistency of religion has me wanting to kick a dirty habit in celebration of Christ. And I have plenty of dirty habits to chose from. I chose the hardest and today was a real test of whether or not I actually feel like sticking to this agenda. So far so God.

I think I am going to go to bed. A) blogging in general is stupid B) computers, in general, are stupid C) talking about yourself is narcissistic and I've done a lot of it today already and D) I need to get up in 7 hours. Goodnight Internet.

Almost fooled that spring had sprung

2011-02-21T18:00:00.000-08:00

Today was the first day in a long time where I felt sort of like my old self. It was sunny, which helped. It was the first of my two days off, which really helped. I did not get fired yet, which always helps. So, it started off on the right foot. I chilled out this morning, read a book, talked to Al, ate 3 breakfasts. Then I ran a few errands with the dogs and went to 1000 Acres. I ran into two gals who work for the fire department out there. It was very random but neat to talk to folks outside of work and outside of my class. Then I met up with another gal with the department who helped me initially with my interview. We chatted about how things are going. I headed home, grabbed a couple things for my truck, and am now here making chicken soup (sorry Al) and getting ready to watch a movie. I have not cracked the books yet, which makes me nervous in a backburner sort of way. I feel guilty when I actually enjoy a day not as work as if it's a day off. It seems like I am supposed to do anything but study when I'm not at work. But, then I swing into a mental space where I feel like if not being a psycho on my days off gets me through alright during work then what's the harm? It's a daily battle amongst myself. Today the lazy side won out and I am very happy for that. I loved feeling like a human. I was more relaxed then I have been in weeks. I don't have a lot more to say. It was just a good feeling today and I am grateful for that.

Turning a Corner

2011-01-20T12:08:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been a rough patch. I was/am pretty stressed about work. I think I will always feel like I am hanging by a thread until I am not on probation any longer. I don't think it would be good to feel comfortable because then maybe I'm missing something. But, being in a constant state of worry is a bit taxing on the mind and body. I do feel a little better than I did the last time I wrote in here. I had some good conversations with mom and dad and came to some new realizations. I always function better when I am excited by something. Of course I am excited about this job. I mean, it's all I have wanted for the past 8 years. But, now that I'm working towards this it's tough to get excited for probation to be over because that seems so tentative on the next forty five shifts going relatively well. That is something in my control but we never know what the day will bring and having nine good shifts behind me does not mean that the next four months will be cake by any means. So, I can't let myself start day dreaming about June, at least not yet.

I am day dreaming about a couple big purchases though. I realized that I will be loads happier if I feel like I can get home to see the family or get down and see Jackie without tooling down the freeway at 55mph, worrying about all the wear on my truck. So, starting to look for a more fuel efficient car. The truck is not going anywhere. I just want to be able to park her for a little bit and tend to some preventative maintenance before running her into the ground. And I would be so excited to go 70 on the freeway, in a fifth gear. So there is that. There is also the prospect of maybe purchasing a house down here. That's been dream number one since I was a kiddo. Living in a house on the border of Portland and Gresham has some ups (like being 10 minutes to work). But, I am not a city person. I want chickens. I want the dogs to have more turf than a sheet-covered couch. They have been their time in these past few months and deserve to run. Charlie would mark every corner of the property every day and love every minute. I want to walk down abandoned railroad tracks to unwind. I want stars at night (those rare nights without cloud cover). I want a shop to park my truck in. I want a woodstove and a stack of firewood. I want bonfires and horse pastures. I know I'm getting a little greedy here but it's not a bad time to buy if you get the right lender. The realization that owning is not much more costly than renting is some big motivation to take the plunge. I'm not in a rush but, like mom says, half the fun is in the hunt.

2011-01-14T17:58:00.000-08:00

Man, it's been a rough couple of days. Seriously. This whole living alone this is not working well for me. I don't like the isolation. I look forward to my two days off and then I just mope around my house in pajamas. I'm not even sure if I brushed my teeth today. I will say yes, just because this is public. I counted and I have 145 days until training is over and 35 of those are days I work. It sounds like a really sweet ratio right? Well, when the other 110 days are spent studying your brains out, or feeling guilty for not studying your brains out, it's not as relaxing as it sounds. I am going to do my best to be more of a person. I need to get out more. Although, there is a large part of me that is dying for the country. I want to be able to walk out my front door and hit up some railroad tracks with the dogs. I want to be able to throw them outside and not care about them being in the street, especially right now because my house suddenly smells like rotten eggs. I think it would be worth getting up an hour earlier (4am!) to drive 45 minutes or an hour to work instead of the 10 minute commute I have from here. I could say a bit more on this topic but I'm worried I might OD on self-pity if I keep writing. There's been quite a bit these couple of days.

let me count the ways

2011-01-13T20:51:00.000-08:00

I have spent the last five months feeling lonely in as many ways as Eskimos describe snow. There is voyeur loneliness where I feel social just being in the checkout line of a grocery store. There is dirty house slippers loneliness where I feel embarrassed to pull up the shades of the house in case someone catches a glimpse of me from the street. There’s cry in your beer loneliness (where I am at tonight). There is confident loneliness like earlier when I was running the dogs in 57 degree grey at the park. There is good radio loneliness when I am driving back home from somewhere I’d rather be. There is holiday decorations loneliness where I pretend to be a part of Thanksgiving, Christmas, fall or winter. There is talk to the dogs loneliness, generally enjoyed best while sweeping, and also close kin to thousandth time you’ve cleaned the house and no one sees it but you loneliness. There is Qwest loneliness, not dissimilar from voyeur loneliness, where I talk to Qwest customer service about my, and their, personal lives much longer than we discuss phone service. There is pace the house loneliness that seems to occur every evening before work. There is online loneliness where I look for other places to be or ways to get other places than here. There is movie loneliness that is never distracting enough. It’s a pity party on 157th tonight. Anyone is invited.

2011 thus far

2011-01-02T20:06:00.000-08:00

Man, I talked to Jackie a long time today about what I feel like right now at this juncture in training. Like I told her, it’s tough because everything feels hard now. I love what I am doing. I like learning how tools work. I like learning strategy on putting out fires. I like learning how to use different pieces of equipment. I loved learning forcible entry techniques. I like the discipline and intensity of training. But, I don’t feel like it leaves any room for anything else in my life. I feel like I am in the worst shape I have been in in the last two years, weaker and less cardiovascularly fit than I have been since before I started Crossfit. I feel like I eat pretty crappy because it’s tough to set aside a chunk of time to cook good food and I fall into the trap of sugar and salt as a comfort for stress. I don’t talk to my sister EVER and I miss the hell out of her. I barely talk to my folks and I miss them so much. I haven’t gone this long with so little contact with my family in my whole life. I hate not being a part of the day to day with my friends back home. I have to ask about what jokes mean because I wasn’t there for their inception so I don’t get it. I miss shooting the breeze over a beer in the backyard, or in the kitchen or at the dining room table on these cold winter days. I saw such a pretty side of Oregon yesterday and it made me realize I could be here in thirty years and it could feel like home. But, lacking all those important people makes the beauty of this place ring hollow. If I could have my way I’d drag every last one of them here and have them along this crazy journey. But, like I said, there’s not room for fire and the rest of my life right now. It’s a sad mixed blessing to have this lonesome house and undiscovered city to my self right now. I really do need to focus on this job and proving to every single firefighter I encounter that I am worthy firefighter and I can do this job. On the seventeenth I will be halfway through the intense training part. It won’t be downhill but it will be an exciting landmark. I will celebrate my doing something good in this community because it will also be Martin Luther King Day and that’s a good day to give back. I have to remember that this job is all about doing for others, it really is. But it feels all about me right now. Like I tried to climb a hill that is too steep and doesn’t have a lot of hand or footholds and I’m clinging to the hillside, able to see the top but wondering how the eff I get there but not wanting to slide back down to the bottom.

Enough of that. Two other thoughts. One, working the 31st was good. The two best things about the day were working on forcible entry. I am not the largest person. And I feel like I have gotten weaker with this stupid carpal tunnel, too much December food, and not enough initiative to keep up my fitness from TAC. Having said that, working on forcible entry was awesome because it is important to be strong but it’s also important to know how to use the tools and seeing the difference between no technique and good technique is really awesome. I look forward to doing even more of that. Also, we got to go to a fire. It was already out when we got there. It was probably a pity dispatch to get the new guys some experience. But, it was great to see what an apartment fire looks like when it’s out and see what sort of damage occurs. We did overhaul, which was hard work, shoveling soggy insulation and burned clothes. It was so awesome just being there though and working up a sweat. I look forward to the fire we one day get where we’re first in and on fire attack. Still not a full night of sleep. Spent the 1am hour wandering down a hotel hallway to the godawful screech of a fire alarm that would not shut up. That’s a brutal intermission to sleep. It was weird to walk into the lobby and see all the half awake guests in their pajamas and be part of the crew there to solve the problem. (or watch other people solve it and try to learn from what they were doing so one day I can help shut off a damn fire alarm so hotel people can get back to sleep).

Last thing. It’s the new year. Yes it is. I looked at my cell phone before going to bed on Friday and thought Happy New Year to myself. But, having said that, I am trying to get back into shape so I can get after those ladders and power tools when I get to move to the truck in a few months. I worked out today and really felt like a fat ass. Simple hill sprints and a 20 minute Crossfit workout kicked my butt. I was doing box jumps like I just learned how and being very liberal with my breaks. But, I didn’t stop early, even though I was really looking for a good reason to stop halfway through. I also just pulled all the crappy food out of my kitchen cupboards and hid it in the pantry. Hoping that I can get back on that horse as well. Me and the rest of this country. At least until February, which should be nation relapse into bad habits month.

RIP 360

2010-12-30T13:32:00.000-08:00

One sad event that happens in two days is the cancellation of my 360 phone number. I signed up for a new cell phone service and was unable to retain my old phone number, that I've had since I was 19 years old. I really didn't want to switch to the 503 but I didn't have much choice, unless I stayed with Sprint, and they are basically the worst, ever. 360, you've been so good to me and I will always remember where I come from, no matter my prefix or Oregon plates.

so so tired

2010-12-30T13:07:00.000-08:00

I think it's crazy what a long road it has been and how much is still untraveled. Maybe it's the smoke grey sky or all of the bare trees or the constant damp cold, but I feel tapped out. I feel like a husk today. I am just exhausted. We did not sleep much on Tuesday. Went to bed at midnight after a long day of eight calls and drilling and evening studying. Woke up at one to run another call. Got back to the station a little before 2am to a burning smell coming from under the engine. Plugging it into the shore power made sparks fly onto the bay floor at the front of the rig. So, we transferred all necessary equipment over to the reserve engine and ended up in bed around 3. Being up at 6 didn't leave much time for quality REMs. I was a big grump when I got home at 8. I had a hard time shaking out of it and never really did until Jackie and I went to Duke's, this country western bar a few miles from my house. It was a fun night watching people country dance to a pretty good live cover band.

This morning I just feel drained. I've written up most of my outlines for our test tomorrow but I still need to study the material and then work on memorizing equipment location on the engine and tool talks that will be due in a few shifts. I slept hard last night but woke up to raging carpal tunnel. I'm at my wit's end with that affliction. It's really gotten old. And today I've just felt blank, not grumpy or anything, just real worn out. Being down here is tough, away from most of my friends and all of my family. Add to that this damn freezing house and literally no social life and it starts feeling like Groundhog Day. Every day is the same, studying, getting ready for work, working, then starting it over. Six more months of this routine, if I'm lucky. It feels like six years. I feel bad even complaining at all. I have what I've wanted for so long and I have it at a time when a lot of people don't even have jobs to bitch about. I'm lucky. I just have a hard time remembering it on days like today.

26 days and counting

2010-12-27T13:05:00.001-08:00

That's how many shifts we have until we move to the truck. Not that I am looking that far ahead. Seriously. It's too many 24-hour periods of potential f-ups. I wish I had less of a paranoid attitude about this process. I try to reshape my thinking so I can pretend I am going to work at a station where we just happen to drill a lot and practice/train rather than being in the precarious probationary position. But, that's always on the back burner. Two days off will be a weird adjustment. It's not quite enough to put work out of your mind but it's much more frequent than the weekends at TAC. So, it's a trade off. Yesterday was good. I was pretty grumpy when I got home, from lack of sleep and general stress. But, Jackie getting up here was good and I took a short nap which kind of helped. We made a really good dinner of baked ziti and watched Amelia Earhart, on Alec's recommendation. I forgot Alec just likes Hilary Swank and will be biased toward any movie she is in. Not a good movie, sorry Al. But we started this at 5pm and had a super early evening. It was kind of awesome. With darkness at 5:00 it's easy to pretend it's way later. I think it was my favorite night in a long time. Tomorrow is Day 2 at Station 2. I think it will be a tough day. They will want to make up for Christmas being so easy on us. But, that will make the day go by faster I think.

home again home again

2010-12-26T08:57:00.000-08:00

Just got home from shift uno. I don't really like thinking about work when I'm not there. It's nice to take a break and not talk about it. But, in the anti-spirit of that thought, the first day was fine. It was pretty laid back because it was Christmas. We didn't run any calls, except one alarm activation that was canceled after we pulled out of the station. We didn't even drill much, just rifled through every compartment on the engine to make lists of what was inside. Still managed to stay up late and slept kind of crappy so I'm pretty tired right now. I wish I could write more about this but basically I ate two huge meals really fast (we all have to finish together and the guys eat fast and I put too much food on my plate so I paid for it and trained for an eating contest all at once) and got the low-down from our senior crew all day as we learned the ins and outs of our new shift. I'm sure I'll have more interesting stories later. Happy Boxing Day.

back on the brink of the roller coaster

2010-12-24T21:27:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas Eve and it feels like every other school night this year. I am sitting in my house. The temperature is just above freezing (keeps you looking young I hear) and the only noise in the house is the squeak and squeal of the dryer. It's zen for me to sit here and not put a fist through the door listening to a noise that only bats should be able to register. I just got done studying for my first test on my first day at Station 2 tomorrow (merry christmas). Not sure what to expect but I figure it will be similar to what we had at the training academy, or at least that's what I am hoping for. I also just looked at my bank account and almost cried over that. Luckily I just read an article this evening on how to create inner peace. I am drawing on those pointers as I type this. Lucky for the dryer. But tomorrow is a new chapter in this training. It makes me pretty nervous but I will show up and shut up and work hard, that's my plan anyway. We'll see where it gets me. Already looking forward to coming home Sunday morning to a late Christmas day with Jackie and the dogs. The past two days in Veneta went way too fast. I can see how the next five months could feasibly fly by, if I play my cards right. Two days off, to recover and prepare for 24 hours of work, sure doesn't seem like much. I know those who work 9-5 probably think I am a big douche for even saying that. And to those people I say all you need is a high school diploma to apply for a this job so please, have at it. But, seriously, two days really flies by quick when you don't want to leave the people you're with. Speaking of which, this house is mighty quiet without the dogs. I mean, all they do is lay around but I at least am used to their presence. I think I owe those two fleabags a lot of meaty bones and long walks when this is over. They have kept me sane throughout this whole move/training even though I complain about taking them out at 5:45 in the morning when it's windy and rainy. I got it good, even when I lose sight of that simple fact.

Merry Christmas.

here we go, again

2010-12-23T08:16:00.000-08:00

Okay. So we all passed our finals. It was a stressful day but it all happened. Our group actually did really well. I guess on our last evolution the stress finally got to one of the guys I was partnered with. The trainers said we were done, finished, no more finals. I guess he didn't hear thought because he was still rolling with the evolution, pulling shit out of compartments on the engine, connecting it to the pump panel, and getting ready to pull more hose. The best part is is that it was all unnecessary, even if we were not finished with the evolution. I had my mistakes too though. Heeled the 35' ladder with the wrong foot when we were bringing it down. Tied a psycho knot instead of a figure 8 follow through. I always freak out on the knots. I can tie them fast, behind my back, racing a buddy in class. And then I need to tie it for a trainer on my test and it's like my hands are someone else's and I am just watching them butcher this thing I know. Pretty awesome.

So I am in Eugene now. Getting ready to plunge into a frenzy of last minute Christmas shopping and preparation for out first shift at station 2 on Christmas Day. Need to take my duty shirt to the dry cleaners and get massive amounts of presents for people. I thought I would have time this past week but it turns out that the down week after academy finals moves quicker than the past four months. I went to Seattle and saw everyone but left in the same tornado that brought me up there. I crashed in my armchair on Monday and Tuesday night this week, watching Dexter and drinking a beer curled up in a blanket in my cold house.

Tuesday I left work angry for the first time. Like, pissed, steam from the ears angry. We were given a scenario of fire in the fifth floor of the training tower and told to put it out. The guy leading the scenario didn't communicate the plan well and I thought we were doing two different things (and acting upon those thoughts) until I realized we were climbing the firefighters ladder to the fourth floor. I ended up on the fourth floor outside of the ladder with almost 100' of 2.5" hose on my shoulder. I hadn't done a great job of keeping my arms above shoulder level so the hose was slipping down my arm a little bit. And the wind was just ripping from the east, blowing the hose out from my shoulder like a skinny little sail. I wasn't sure how to get around the ladder because I had never had that much weight on my shoulder at that height and felt like dismounting the ladder (swinging around to the backside) would result in my losing the hose. So a trainer came up and took the hose from me, which led to humiliation. I kept going with the drill. But I was so frustrated at my crew member for not thinking that scenario through. I guess this is where we learn. That was my least favorite experience thus far though.

Okay, my fingers are cracked and I got places to be. I am happy academy is done with. I miss everyone more than I can say. I am nervous and excited for this next stage. And I am glad this blog is private.

Final Countdown

2010-12-12T17:43:00.000-08:00

Three days until the final. Trying to keep the stress at bay but I can feel it creeping. It was so good to see Dad and Paula this weekend. We had a ridiculously good dinner at a place downtown, Red Tavern or something? They sold the finest Portland tap water, filtered, for $5 a bottle. We stuck to the less fine free tap water that must be from a different water main, one that is not gold-plated. I miss family so much but I miss everything about my old life, like having one. It's seriously a hostage situation with probation. There is no room for anything else. This tiny, drafty house has seen more of me than everyone else in my life combined. But, after I forced myself to clean on Friday I decided I like this house. It feels a lot more like home now. Or maybe that's just because the two bulldog puppies are gone.

Time for bedtime.

2010-12-11T13:44:00.000-08:00

Well, it's flooding outside. The rain has been coming down in sheets since this morning. The weekend is halfway over. Dad and Paula are about an hour or so away. I am really excited to see them. I have been practicing tool talks and cleaning my house all morning. I actually got sleep last night. The night before was the worst thing ever. I woke up every two hours with my right arm on fire. I had to get up and walk around to shake it out for about fifteen minutes until I could try to sleep again. I think I got maybe 5 hours of sleep total and ended up getting up at 5:30. Nice sleeping in. The chiropractor adjusted my neck, elbow and wrist yesterday and I think it really helped. I was able to sleep through the night last night. And we have two more days of practice before our final exams on Wednesday. Just thinking about it makes my hands sweat. But, I think we got it. My crew is solid and we have good communication, problem solving and situational awareness. Should be a good day Wednesday. I really hope all 13 of us pass that day so we can celebrate at the Chicken that night. I am super excited to head north after next week. I am hoping to just head north after work on Thursday but it depends on if there is a Chicken that night or not.

I have a lot more to write about I feel but I am not in the mood to write. Portland got a little lonelier with all this damn rain. I feel bad for my dogs not going out today but it is really ridiculous outside. I will try to be better about keeping this updated.

already December, crazy

2010-12-01T21:41:00.000-08:00

Suzy has this awful habit of sitting across the room from me and just staring. You know Suzy, she has creepy coal eyes and she sort of tilts her head downward a little to give it the freshly-possessed look. Her left ear cocks back a little and no matter how slowly and casually you glance up from your reading those flat black eyes are just waiting to meet yours. I like thinking these dogs keep my safe but now I'm not so sure. I feel like Suzy would grow thumbs in the night just to wield an axe. Must be Wednesday night. These poor dogs get zero attention Monday through Thursday. Literally two short (ten minute) walks in the morning and night. I am in the house with them whenever I am not at work (or at the Chicken on Thursdays) and they sleep in my room but we don't really interact. Sometimes I tell Suzy to stop liking her butt or Charlie to stop licking his long-gone balls. Or I tell them to get away from me when I put on my jacket. They know we're going on a walk when that happens but I can't handle the sudden sea of fur that is all around me when they know they get to leave them house. It's weird that they know the difference between any of my jackets that I wear and my work clothes that I leave in the morning in. They are never excited to see those.

Today was a good day at work. We were able to work out. And then drilled for about three hours. We got in some good reps. I really enjoy my crew. We are low-drama, low-key and have high expectations of each other and ourselves. And everyone is pretty honest and says what they think so it all works out. I think we'll do well at finals but that's two weeks down the pipe still. Thank god. I have not even touched on my tool talks or knots beyond real basic stuff. And we have individual skills we seriously need to work on. I sort of can't believe how much we have to fit in to the next two weeks. Thinking about it stresses me out so I choose to not think and just accept that it will all happen as it's supposed to. I need to keep the fire burning (no pun intended) and not bail on my enthusiasm. It's been a long haul and we are no where near the end but it's nerve-wrecking and exciting to be so close to a mile marker. We watched the class ahead of us take their final today, in preparation to move to the truck (the last stage of training). I watch those guys doing stuff and feel a little overwhelmed but I know that I felt the same way when I showed up three months ago and they were where we are now, practicing for their finals and I wanted to barf when I saw what they were doing then, sure I'd never get it. I guess when you give your life over to this stuff gets done. I don't know what else I thought would happen when I signed up to live and breathe this job for the next year plus. Sometimes I'm just surprised when I look back and see where we came from.

win'som, lose some

2010-11-30T21:02:00.000-08:00

So, I got a compliment today at work. Unfortunately it was at the expense of one of my crew members. He screwed up a couple things that I fixed during the course of our evolution and ended up making me look like I probably had a better idea of what was going on than I actually did. I guess, to give myself some credit, I was really trying on that one. Not that I don't usually. But the past few weeks, since our midterms really, I've felt sort of off when we've been drilling. I felt pretty confident and pulled together for midterms. since then we've had some stuff thrown at us that's been pretty challenging for me. I can do it all and I know I'll get better at it as I get stronger and learn better techniques. I just sort of retreat into a place of insecurity when I feel like maybe I'm being selfish trying to become a firefighter. Maybe it's something I'm not meant for. I do want it, as much, if not more than ever. And I feel I can do it and be a positive contribution. But I get caught up in the drill ground world sometimes where I see this as the entire parameters of the job and feel like I am just scraping by some days. Anyway, today on our last evolution I watched the crew in front of us go and I saw the driver really mess it up. I actually had to stop watching her because I was nervous for our turn and I didn't want to get bad habits in my head. When our turn came I thought they might be watching the driver (me) extra hard since the last one was not so good. So I did my best. I talked loud and often and made sure I always looked before I did something to double check myself. It paid off because I was able to be confident when fixing some mistakes and I got told good job at the end of it all. I felt bad that the other guy didn't come off looking so good but every dog has its day and that five minutes was mine I guess. I did some boneheaded stuff earlier in the day to balance out the karma.

It wouldn't be a proper thought if it didn't include some remorse about my poor studying habits. I went to bed at 9pm last night and slept like crap. So I am tempted to try it again tonight (even though it's already past 9) and see if some Advil PM will kick me into a solid 7 hours of sleep. I have so much studying to do for our last test on Thursday but I keep pushing the boundaries as far as studying is concerned. I shouldn't. But, when you have pillows calling your name it's tough to say no after seven hours in the wind and rain on the drill ground. I think I'm calling it a night.

PS - I owe my dogs the most exciting rest of their lives after this ordeal is completed.

You've got to be kidding

2010-11-28T20:26:00.000-08:00

Four days during academy feels like four years but a four day weekend feels like four minutes. This is the part where we go to the top of the roller coaster and get that really good view before feeling like we're plunging to our death at a million miles an hour. Ten days of practice before our practical finals. I think only seven days until our written final. Somehow I am much much less concerned with that then the practicals. They are heavily loaded I feel for this last section. And I think our instructors will be watching us much more closely, seeing as how we will have just completed almost FOUR MONTHS of training. Lord, you'd think we'd be competent. I will cross that bridge when it arrives in three weeks. In the meantime, I need to buckle down and get after the opportunities to learn what I can in the next two and a half weeks. Also, tomorrow 10-04 is being sworn in, meaning the class after us (10-03) is being welcomed to the beginning of their four months of academy. Get it 10-04. I can't believe we're at the other end now.

Thanksgiving weekend was good. I made Paula Dean's Caramel Apple Cheesecake half drunk on Wednesday night after coming home from the Wooden Chicken. That was good until I was fishing my CuisineArt spinny slicey thing out of a bunch of cream cheese filling and sliced my hand open. Don't worry, Jackie, I pulled my hand out quick and it was a nice clean cut so I didn't get any blood on the cheesecake. It was like watching a kid fall off a bike, a nice long pause until the tears/blood started flowing. And Thursday I was able to catch up with Grandma, Chris, Mom and Dad on the way down to Veneta. Thanksgiving was delicious, so much food for four people. And I have more than my fair share in my fridge now. Up was probably the best movie we could have watched on a belly full of Thanksgiving and eggnog. Friday was nice, even if the Ducks have yet lose a game. I guess they are earning that number one ranking after all since they are actually playing tough teams now. And I ate a Philly Cheesesteak for the first time, sorry Al. I can see why people like those. I think I managed to eat too much every day but today. It was nice not wanting to vomit immediately after eating. Saturday was a good day too. Went to Triangle Lake and watched Jackie fish for a bit for some Kokanee. Better luck next time. It was raining pretty hard and the dogs were running around the parking lot and the water like maniacs. Paisley brings out the puppy in Suzy sometimes. Or Satan, depending on Suzy's mood and what Paisley is doing to her. Charlie really really thought about getting in the water off the dock. He'd put one paw out above the water and pull it back like he was swimming. And then try the other paw. I didn't have the heart to push him in. Maybe if it was twenty degrees warmer or he was five years younger. It'd be like falling into water with a down parka on. I don't think he'd make the swim to shore with his locks of love. Anyway, we warmed up at Crazy Al's, which ended up being a pretty neat bar. The gal put on the second half of the Husky game and I got towatch them beat Cal for the second year in a row. If I wasn't already warm from a couple beers that sure did warm my heart. We promptly cooled off, choosing to take advantage of the sunshine to walk the railroads tracks in a new direction. Right about when we turned around the skies opened up and the rain came down. Neither of us had on rain jackets, being true northwesterners. The plan was to put on sweats and watch a great game between Stanford and OSU but the TV kept cutting out and that was for the best because the Beavs had their worst loss of the season. Stanford shouldn't be able to be great academically and athletically. That is greedy. More drinking and lots of sleeping capped off the weekend.

Today I drove back to Portland up Highway 99 rather than braving post-Thanksgiving I-5 traffic. It didn't take much longer since I drive 55 on I5 anyway. And it was amazing. Monmouth, Amity, McMinnville, Newberg all had up wreaths for Christmas on their streetposts. The country was way more open than the drive yesterday out to Triangle Lake. That was beautiful but the ceiling felt so low and the hills looked like they had mange with all the moss and logging. This was much more agricultural, open pastures and I guess wineries but I didn't see many off the highway. I could definitely see myself moving out that way when I get some money saved up for a place. I imagine it even rains less out there since the land is technically fit for grapes. I'd eager to do some more exploring as time allows.
Now, I'm home and ready to hit the hay and start off the week tomorrow at 5am. I'm feeling a little under the weather from being so cold last week (I am literally hugging a space heater with my knees as I type this) and probably having too much to eat and drink this weekend. I got some of the yard raked up with the last hour of daylight tonight. And I put a wreath on my door, forgoing the one of my truck grill this year so I don't look like a toolshed at work. My house is clean and ready to go for round 13 tomorrow. Fifteen more days at TAC and then 28 days on the two rotations at 2s. 71 more days and 7 more months of the tough part of training. If getting fired wasn't so easy that might seem like a big step. I'll take tomorrow as it's own day and go from there.

I'm excited to go to sleep.

tiredddd

2010-11-23T20:50:00.000-08:00

Almost 9pm. I have another test I am procrastinating studying for. I feel very tired. Charlie is itching himself, still. He needs another flea bath but I feel like he will turn into an icicle in my house if I give him one now. And Suzy is having her butt for dessert. Sick. I love these dogs but they are so nasty sometimes. Not that I am one to talk. I am managing to not do laundry this week because it's so damn cold I haven't sweat much since work has been sort of like being snowed in at school, minus the snow. The yard was just a sheet of ice so we couldn't do anything until it thawed after noon. Anyway, I might be re-using socks tomorrow. I figure I smell bad enough at the end of the week what's a little more scent going to hurt?

Anyway, this test. I should really get on it. I managed to outline the chapters and start going over my notes. That's as far as I have gotten. Then I got distracted and put cookies in the oven and cleaned up my sick laundry/mud room and took a long bath. My house is -100 degrees. I found out today that I have a pretty good test average in class. I have mixed feelings about that. I appreciate not having to stress out over tests, although I am always sure the next one will be my demise. But, I don't want to be someone who is good in bookwork but can't keep it together drilling. Like, I'd love to help raise that ladder but I need to push my glasses up on my nose first 'cause it's hard to see without them and if I could just address my pocket guide for ladder protocol that would be best, do you have a sec? I am grateful I don't need to be worried about my test scores but hope I can reflect that same level of commitment in the practical stuff. We'll see.

I want to sleep so I am going to walk my dogs and then hit the books before hitting the hay. There's a lot of hitting going on around here. It's a pretty violent household. Suzy likes to hit Charlie with her tail and Charlie mostly lays around, he's the pacifist of the group.

Day 45 down

2010-11-22T20:43:00.000-08:00

18 days left of academy. That is crazy to me. After this week we will be 3/4 of the way through. We got back to drilling today after almost two straight weeks of classroom. It was like getting back on a bike. And then losing control while going too fast down a wet road and ending up with a mouthful of dirt and tearing your favorite pants. I made so many mistakes that I thought I was beyond making. Nothing like a good solid humbling day on the drill yard to kick off the crunch time until finals. But, my time here was soldered in a pretty humiliating first day so maybe I'm just going back to my roots to get it right tomorrow. Not to make lemonade when it's snowing out but I think failing that physical exam my first day made me realize how fleeting this opportunity can be if I don't make every effort to prove I'm worthy of the job. It made me work hard out of the gate. Not that I wouldn't have anyway, but I don't know that I would have understood the consequences of relaxing. I think these two weeks in the classroom made me a rusty of course but also made me relax a little and I am thankful (I know, three days early) for the reminder that this job is mine to lose and how much I want it. I want all of us to make it. There's 13 of us, which is a bit daunting when you're as superstitious as me. But, it's day by day and, so far, we're all still here and I appreciate that.

While I'm on the topic...

I am thankful for my friends and family. I think it often, usually while missing the snot out of someone. But, being here has made me so aware of how crucial those close to me are. Molly came down and visited this past weekend and it was great to catch up and hang out over the course of a couple days. We took Charlie and Suzy to walk along the river and ended up driving out past Troutdale to Thousand Acres, which is just an extensive network of trails in the woods and fields. What I love about Oregon so far is how close the country is. Portland is really it as far as cities are concerned. It didn't rain and even though it was cold it was a great day for the walks. Charlie and Suzy cruised, per usual, but KC was on fire, galloping after every dog and family he could keep up with (which was pretty much all of them, tiny legs go!). I loved just getting out and walking. No counting reps or blowing snot rockets, just a nice walk. I forget how much I love those. Sorry about the meniscus, Molly. I'm making myself turn off NPR after the news is over and listen to music (thank you Dad for the speakers and Jackie for the great CDs). Now, it's really bedtime but I'm happy sitting here typing this, hoping for more snow even though it will be a special time on the drill ground tomorrow, and listening to good music. The house is cold, I should really bite the bullet and crank the heaters. But, Suzy has the couch to curl up on and Charlie is happy on whatever floor he plops on. I am thankful for those two. They keep me sane. They deserve whatever farm they get. I just hope I can get it for them before Charlie is just a fireside dog.

I'm thankful it's a short week and I'm looking forward to Veneta and Jackie's 17 gallons of eggnog. I think I'm just going to bathe in it when I get down there. From the looks of the pot it's in I think I could fit. I'm thankful I got into my truck this morning without breaking a window when I looked my keys in the car, with the engine running, when I needed to be leaving for work. I am thankful for the hot shower I am about to take. I am thankful for the almost 8 hours of sleep I will get tonight. I am thankful for the comedy I get to experience every day at work and all the firefighters who are training us. I screwed up tying off the ladder today and knew it when one of them told me to meet him at the top of the ladder. I climbed up, and stared down my clove hitch, hanging loose like a toddler's tooth. He showed me what I did wrong and I tied it right, twice to make sure I had it. Then he batted down my helmet shield when he turned around to leave the fire escape. We got lucky getting our trainers. They've seen a lot and we're reaping the benefits of their years and years of fires.

I'm thankful for every phone call I get, every letter in the mail, every shout out on Facebook. I got it good, even when I forget it.

windy, rainy, so full

2010-11-17T18:40:00.000-08:00

Well, it's a typical Wednesday night at the Zimmerman/Canine household. I am wanting to barf because I came home starving (only ate two eggs on toast, a bagel with cream cheese, toast with bananas and peanut butter, lasagna and about six gallons of coffee mixed with hot chocolate, of course I was hungry) and proceeded to eat cottage cheese, a huge rice and bean and spinach burrito and then a bowl of ice cream. We have already been warned about getting fat when training is over and we continue to eat at the rate we currently eat. I believe it because this is what I ate on a day where all we did was PT for half hour this morning and then sat in the classroom all day, no drilling or anything. I've already been feeling my pants get tighter during the last two weeks of mostly classroom. It's hard to eat less though because you really put it away when you're active all day long. And that will start again next week. We begin the grind down to finals and will be out on the drill ground all day long probably until mid-December. That will be great as far as my waistline and mood. But, holy cow, it's supposed to be in the twenties next week so that could be interesting, especially if it snows. Climbing the fire escape could be interesting, especially with all the extra gear we now carry up it during out evolutions. But, like everything that stresses me out with this training I chose to not think about it until the time comes. So far that has worked (mostly) for my mental well-being. I don't think I can plan too far out in this job because everything is so unpredictable and I find that thinking makes me worry and worrying makes me suck. If I just take the hurdles as they arise I find myself much more clear-thinking and ready to clear them.

So, I am full from eating too much. And Suzy is staring at me. She has been outside for a couple short walks this week. It's been pouring and raining and nasty. And it's dark when I get home so I don't want to do anything. She has tonight and tomorrow to bottle up that energy and then we'll hopefully get it burned off over the weekend. I am also procrastinating on studying for our test tomorrow. I should not. But, I just want to get in the bath tub and crawl into my bed. Instead I need to bust out my notecards and get on that horse because our last two tests were tough and it's no time to relax. Getting down to 1/3 of the way through training. I can barely believe it.

meant to write more but this is what I got...

2010-11-16T19:05:00.000-08:00

Here are the short jokes that I remember from the following two days... We learned how to do a 2-man ladder raise on a 35' ladder. At the department I volunteered at previously this was a 3-man evolution. Doing it with just two is definitely a more physical endeavor. The person on the beam of the ladder has to walk the ladder hand over hand into an upright position while the other person anchors the heel of the ladder. I think my crew members were probably nervous for me to go (I was too, not gonna lie) because I got a bunch of congratulations when I did it without the damn thing crashing down. You then extend the fly (the part of the ladder that goes up) by pulling on the halyard (rope). One of the trainers (a firefighter I have loads of respect for) asked me at lunch how the raise went. I told him it went well. He asked if we'd done the halyards. I said we had. He chuckled and said he'd figured I'd just be pulling myself to the top of the ladder instead of raising the fly. I asked him if that wasn't the point? I said it got me up the ladder faster that way. Short joke #1. Number two came at the end of the day when we were checking the brake rod travel on the drill engines. You get on a creeper and slide under the engine to measure the distance on the brake rod before and after the parking brakes are applied. One of the gals in my class asked me if I could just go ahead and walk under the engines and check them all real quick. The last short joke (that I can remember, they come as fast as I can deflect them) was today in our wildland class. We were practicing deploying our fire shelters (reason number 304 why I am not a wildland firefighter by the way). Just imagine a baked potato, wrapped in aluminum foil. This is a fire shelter, an expensive shake and bake container for a firefighter about to be run over by a wildfire. You shake it open and drop to the ground, pulling the edges in around you. Neat, right? When I popped out of mine they asked if I needed the junior size, if my legs could hook the edges down (they barely could and a good wind off a fire would rip that sucker right off me). Then, could I stand up in it? Of course I could. I was running laps inside of the damn thing, couldn't they tell?

round eleven...

2010-11-14T21:05:00.000-08:00

Back in Portland. The trip home was bittersweet. It was great to see everyone and to know where I was without having to consult a map. But, it was a hard reminder that this endeavor is only just beginning and I have more than a few months left to keep my head down and work hard to earn this position. I'm excited for the idea of someday being able to go home for a week and really relax. I was a bit of a shithead this past week. Ask Jackie. I've been wound pretty tight since last weekend. I started thinking about UW Rugby and was really proud of their asskicking they gave Eastern WA. Then I started wishing I could have seen it. And it was bad news bears after that. I couldn't quite pull myself out of this pity party I've been throwing since then. And, for what? A sweet job that's not that far from home. I think it's just the stress of it all. But, I've been really testy because of it. Sullen, moody, snappy. Who wants to hang out?? I had a really good long talk with Miranda today on the phone and she helped me get some perspective. Now it's 9:13 and bedtime. Being a jerk really wipes me out. Got to get my beauty rest for my big day tomorrow. Day 40. If I invited you guys to the blog it's because I decided I want to write a bit more but I had to make it private so I don't risk anything by posting this online. So, there.

not so north now

2010-11-13T20:26:00.000-08:00

So, I got a new job. I thought about starting a new blog since I feel like moving south defeats my blog title. But, I don't want to lose any more ties to this old place than I need to so I'm keeping the old blog and going from here. I'm bad at that anyway. I always want a clean slate, a new piece of paper, a new day, a do-over. And, now I got what I've been wishing for and suddenly I feel like the old wasn't so bad. Don't get me wrong, I am super appreciative of my opportunity, especially in this economic warzone we're all going through right now. Not everyone gets a true stab at their dream and I'm excited to take full advantage of this chance. But... I'm obviously a homebody. I've never been big into traveling. My dreams have all revolved around family, friends, and home. Three hours isn't all that much in the scheme of things, I'm told. But, it feels like the biggest sacrifice I could have made. I miss being able to go see my mom and dad in an hour or two. I miss my friends walking into my house unannounced or coming home to them already being there. I miss my old watering hole, discovering it last spring was not enough QT, even though we definitely logged some good hours there in just a few short months. I miss the smell of salt in the air and the sound of seagulls. I miss Mount Rainier, even though you only get to see it through the clouds every month or so. And never in the winter. I think the dark days and holidays away from home are probably getting to me a bit. But, I guess it's all a part of being a creature in this world. Gotta take the bad with the good. And there is a lot of good. I've just been a giant grump this past week so I am tending to focus a bit more on the former.

Anyway, I have a watering hole to visit before heading back home? tomorrow. I do love Seattle still.

2010-04-25T22:31:00.001-07:00

11. Build Dad's boat kit.

accumulation of life goals

2010-04-25T21:58:00.000-07:00

I still want to do most of the things I've wanted to do since childhood. It has not really changed, more just gets added to the list. I am currently putting off reading my EMT book and cleaning my bedroom so I thought I would write down some of the things that are bouncing around in my head lately. I guess this is sort of a bucket list. I think that's what I heard them called.

1. Fix my truck. I have always wanted to know about engines. Now I have a massive one that needs some TLC. Think it's a hint...
2. Become a firefighter. Please.
3. Learn how to surf. And, when not in So. Cal, learn how to ride a longboard.
4. Learn how to play the harmonica.
5. Read more classic Southern literature. And contemporary. Read that list that awesome librarian wrote for me.
6. Have a crazy prolific veggie garden.
7. Have my own farm.
8. Build my own house or restore an old one.
9. Trail ride Cleo.
10. Play rugby again.

That's pretty good for now.

Second Day of Spring. (2010)

2010-03-21T19:31:00.001-07:00

What is it about a beautiful sunny afternoon, with the birds singing and the wind rustling through the leaves, that makes you want to get drunk? ~ Jack Handy

Turning off italics is hard. It took me about ten minutes. I think it's annoying when people take pride in being against technology, or take pride in not being able to do simple things, like turn off blog italics, but, yet, I do it, often, comma comma. Not sure what brought me back to this damn thing. No, hang on, I do. I don't want to vacuum the carpet. And this seemed like a good way to procrastinate. Also, it feels a little like new beginnings, being spring and all. But first day of spring was soooo yesterday. It's old new today. There was a blue jay on the back fence this morning with a beakfull of straw and sticks, little bastard was stealing out of backyard like he had something more important to do with our sticks and straws. I really want him to take the dryer lint. But for some reason pokey things seem to make better nests than fluffy wonderful dryer lint. Whatever. Anyway, today was fairly glorious. I did a pretty good job of keeping it in check last night and not destroying myself for work today. That is helpful since it was ridiculously busy, with people running track and training for the Rock n Roll marathon and all. Sometimes you just want to give us, like the next person that walks in the door you want to lay down face first on the carpet and interlace your fingers behind your head. Take it. Take it all.

Digressing... digressing from literally nothing so maybe not a digression at all. I guess my point is today feels good. Even though I expected to be grumpy since I worked yesterday and today and tomorrow and it has been beautiful outside. But, I haven't minded. I think being hourly helps be appreciate my time at work a little more. Weird how that works. But I got home tonight and went outside with the dogs, on a walk around the neighborhood. The usual loop plus adding Phinney Ridge. I listened to a truly random mix of music off my itunes. I think I hate my taste in music. But it's like everything in my life, a collection of stuff since I was a kid and now I just have it piled up on my shuffle, to skip through looking for a good song like a nugget of gold in a dirty river. Maybe I should delete some songs. Like every spring, it feels like I am about to clean up my act, finally get rid of some of the junk I drag along with me from house to house, drop a few pounds, unload some emotional baggage, maybe finally sue the girl who owes me for Maddie, you know the usualy spring cleaning routine. Or, I could blog and vacuum the carpet and walk the dogs and let me laundry pile up because folding it sucks and continue to choose the radio over my itunes. I sort of like that option too. Because, when it comes down to it, the status quo is not too bad. The people are good (can I get an epic?). The job does the job. The broken truck could be worse. I love the dogs, the city, the weather. And now it's spring. Time to vacuum the carpet. Charlie should do Locks of Love. That blue jay would probably sign up for a donation.

Benjamin

2010-02-18T08:00:00.000-08:00

B. Franklin had some decent thoughts about how to live life. His 13 virtues look like this:

1. Temperance. Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation.

I eat to dullness and drink to elevation on a daily basis. Shit.

2. Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation.

Work would be damn slow if I abided by this. And I don't know if Kaisa and I would be able to talk anymore, which would be sad.

3. Order. Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have it time.

All my things do have their place. It just happens to be the floor of my bedroom or Molly's attic.

4. Resolution. Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve.

I think I got this one in the bag.

5. Frugality. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing.

Mmmm... next month. I'll learn this one when I go from salary to hourly.

6. Industry. Lose no time; be always employ'd in something useful; cut off all unncessary actions.

Is writing down Benjamin Franklin's 13 virtues unnecessary?... Maybe only if I post them on Facebook.

7. Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly.

Shit.

8. Justice. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty.

So, rugby is out?

9. Moderation. Avoid extremes, forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve.

I can forgive, sometimes, if it wasn't so bad what they did.... And all my friends would say I am a person of great moderation. No, that's not true.

10. Cleanliness. Tolerate no clothes in body, clothes or habitation.

Does showering twice a day make up for wearing the same jeans for a week and living in a rat nest?

11. Tranquility. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common and avoidable.

I got this one too. Some of the time.

12. Chastity. Rarely use but for health or offspring, never to dullness, weakness or the injury of your own or another's peace or reputation.

No, I got this one! Totally. I like how he uses "rarely", wasn't fully ready to commit on that one. And to weakness? Maybe I am just missing something here. Probably.

13. Humilty. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

Totally awesome people but both sentenced to death for their beliefs.

2010 is rolling

2010-01-14T08:14:00.000-08:00

I guess time does just move faster as you get older. Sometimes it occurs to me that I am 26 and I can't believe it. It's not that I think 26 is old, but it is here fast and makes me wonder what's just around the corner. The day-to-day rolls by like a dotted yellow median. I spend most of my days the same. I cook some food, look at a couple crossfit websites to see what's what in the world of toolish fitness, drink way too much coffee, talk to my dogs like they're humans who just prefer to lounge on the carpet, feel frantic at work, workout and lay in my own sweat for a while, wish I was eating a bowl of ice cream or a plain donut with another unnecessary cup of coffee, always have my looming interview in the back of my mind until I crack open my notebook to study and allow that excitement and worry to rush to the forefront once more. This interview has me so eager and so nervous. I can't really think past it right now, as I shouldn't. But, it's definitely consuming my time, whether I am thinking about it or actually preparing for it. T minus 7 days until I get another crack at being a firefighter. Gotta keep the faith. I definitely don't believe in being passive in the face of hopes but, on the flip side, I have to be thankful for the way things have turned out for me so far. I have good friends, the red truck I always wanted, the dogs I knew I'd have one day, a consistent way to stay fit that I actually enjoy, being able to stay involved in rugby in a less job-threatening capacity than playing... I'm satisfied with where I am at. I can wait for the farm. Last year I started getting very disgruntled with my hopes of becoming a firefighter. I was one year into the testing process and seeing a lot of brake lights in the hiring processes. I went back to playing rugby that summer as a way to latch on to something that I love while feeling something I wanted badly pull away. But, with Burien's process and Seattle's continuation from their list gives me some hope. Portland, Bates, National Testing are all rolling around again. I won't rest easy until I've been hired and passed probation but it feels better than it did last year, more possible. This feels like the last piece of the puzzle for this part of my life. I know you never reach the horizon but this goal is so deeply set that it feels like I'm finally moving faster than it's moving away. But, we'll see how this next week goes first.

2009-12-14T22:26:00.000-08:00

this has been a different winter than those I've lived before. I'm not sure what the difference is. The air was so cold last week, like one of those spray cans you use to clean keyboards, right down your nose into your lungs. There were snowflakes Sunday morning. I played fetch with Suzy on frosty grass and I hopped ice patches while doing my "sprints" during workouts. But, that's not what makes this feel so different. Maybe it's because the rain is pounding a different window and my feet are facing west while I sleep. Maybe it's the two panting dancing dogs that always greet me when I come home and the huge responsibility I feel to make their lives not suck. Maybe it's my inability to cook for myself even though I love cooking or how much I love time spent driving alone in my truck. But, I think it might be the sadness that's hanging like moss around this Christmas. The seriousness of it all, the one huff of breath it takes to blow out a candle. I have never felt so indebted to music or my family and how wonderfully predictable they are. This winter feels like a motheaten wool blanket, like burnt buttered toast. It seems wrong that you can go through a whole day and not even be aware of what you are doing. But it happens, and it happens regularly. Yet, by the time you have realized what's going on the minutes have already passed. And, I am finally realizing what makes living in the city different than the country. The violence never seemed present but somehow this winter it's that damn wolf at the door. And maybe it's the recession or just a bad winter or timing or the way things have always been. But, it doesn't seem so. And when I get in the shower each morning I am a little surprised that I am still doing the same things. Still rushing, still waiting. But the backdrop feels darker, like how they change the stadium lights depending on the season and occassion.

Another Police Shooting

2009-11-29T20:29:00.000-08:00

Someone shot and killed four police officers in Lakewood this morning. They were sitting in a coffee shop on their laptops before their shifts. A man walked in and shot two in their seats, shot the third standing up, and wrestled with the fourth before shooting him and escaping the crime scene. What the fuck? Four cops killed for no apparent reason. Almost one month on the heels of the equally cowardly killing of Officer Timothy Brenton in the CD. I couldn't believe it when I heard the news at work. Still can't. I mean, the guy has to be nuts to shoot four cops. Obviously. Anyone capable of violence of this magnitude has to be crazy. If he isn't crazy than he's living proof of evil. I can't believe each one of those cops got up this morning and got ready for work like it was just another day. Shot sitting. Jesus. I mean, this has to bother everyone who hears about it but I can't get over the insanity of it. There was a moment before this d-bag pulled the trigger when everything was fine. And then it wasn't. I argued with a friend recently about trying cop-killers harder than those who murder the rest of us. I argued that it was fair that those lowlifes have the book thrown at them. I know there are hundreds of creeps out there; rapists, molesters, murderers... they all deserve prosecution to the limits of the law. But, to kill a cop is to strike out against the people who are in place to protect the rest of us. Of course there are flaws within police departments as with any public institution (or any institution, period). But, ultimately, these are the men and women who go to work every day in order to uphold public safety. They are the ones you call when the shit hits the fan. When they are the ones the sirens are whining for it's scary, it's terrible. Cops aren't untouchable but it often feels as if they are. It seems unfair that they would be victims, ever. It feels perversely backward.

I am so sorry for the families of these four police officers. May they all rest in peace. And I hope the fucker that did this is toast very very soon.

So close I can taste it

2009-10-30T07:11:00.001-07:00

Freedom is just around the corner. Three of the five big boogeymen are out of the way (Maddie and the traffic ticket and the pile of rot in the garden). Now I just need my truck canopy on and Lou to be out of my sister's driveway. The details will fill in... November will be glorious!!

Hell Week: ThursdayMorning

2009-10-29T07:56:00.000-07:00

Okay. So, chippin' along. I am so excited for this week to be over!!! I mean, Friday night is all I want. But, I have accomplished a bit off my list:

Printed up everything I needed to file a suit against this gal with my horse and was going to fill it out today. She emailed me back though when I checked my email this morning. So, finally some communication there. Looks like she wants to sell the horse but just having some sort of idea what's going on puts my mind at rest. I still don't trust her but I would rather go this route than court.
I bagged up all my green tomatoes. They need to sit in the basement and think about what they've done. Or not done more like. Like ripening. Hopefully I will be able to do something with them in the next couple weeks.
Was able to check cleaning the house off the list not because I did it but because Roni got home before I thought they would so I didn't need to get it sparkly for them because she already saw it as is.
Have not mopped the damn basement yet but took the crucial first step of buying a bucket for the mop.
Gave up on washing the dogs. Although, walking into my bedroom this morning after getting coffee made me think twice about that. They are a stinky bunch.
Also gave up on the backyard. I do want to putter around the house but I don't feel like it has to happen ASAP now that I ripped out all the vegetables.
And, also gave up on donating clothes right now. Needs to happen but not this week.

So most of my accomplishments are non-accomplishments. But, as long as it means it's something I'm not worrying about that's all I want.

... Tuesday of Hell Week ...

2009-10-27T23:09:00.001-07:00

Okay... so today I accomplished a bit. My freaky to-do list is not as marked up as one would hope (one being me, primarily) but I still have three days of outrageous productivity.

ripped all the plants out of the garden. this was necessary. there were loads of moldy tomatoes. and one giant pumpkin. and armloads of green tomatoes, lots of green peppers and a handful of a few ripe tomatoes and one orange bell pepper. maybe a couple jalepenos and some little eggplants too.... The yard is less panic-inducing now. It is just grass, with bare beds, minus the broccoli, beets and cauliflower that are still chuggin' along. I like it.
I mailed in my traffic ticket to get a court hearing so I can only pay for my speeding fine ($144) instead of the lack of registration and insurance ($550). Still need to drive to Chehalis in a few weeks for the hearing and will still have the speeding on my driving record (hello insurance increase!). But, that is what it is and I can't speed in my truck anyway so... here's to that not happening again.
Threw a load of laundry in. Badly needed. Dog hair was all over my bed. No more cuddling, as cute as they are. 160lbs of dogs is too much for a full-sized bed. That's 300lbs of creatures on an old mattress. Now I just need to chip away at all the unfolded laundry on my floor...
Swept the basement. Need to mop it but there is not container for water. Will get a bucket later this week and that should take just a few minutes to finish. REALLY DIRTY. Like, pounds of dirt from those creatures.
Ordered my lifting shoes for my cert next weekend. I coughed it up and spent $30 more to get the ones I really wanted. Super excited for them to show up!!
Started a pile of clothes to donate. This has been a long time coming. I wear about 4% of what I own. And I wear that to death. The rest just hangs there or piles up on the floor. And then I wash it because it laid there long enough to get dirty. And then it goes back on the floor. Awesome.

That's it so far.

Hell Week

2009-10-27T11:21:00.000-07:00

Turns out I did a fantastic job of procrastinating this month. Too bad that is not a valuable life skill because I would be set if procrastination was the new productivity. So, I made a pact with myself. I will let this week, the last week of October, be the worst week ever if, in return, I can take the month of November off. Like, I don't want to lift a finger next month. I want to go to the Atlantic Crossing and the Kort Haus and play Buck Hunter and Rock Band and cook delicious fall food and make mulled cider and go on long walks in the rain with the dogs and stay too long in the gym trying to do handstand push-ups and muscle ups and play cribbage and watch movies and make playlists for my shuffle and visit my family without an agenda. But, in order to do that, I have a ton to do this week. It looks a little like this: clean the house really well, clean my bedroom (= folding all the clothes on the floor and washing my comforter cover that both dogs slept on), pull up all the moldy tomato/pepper/eggplant plants and clean up the yard, set a court date for my traffic ticket, get the stupid wax out of the carpet where it spilled out of some plug-in smelly thing, order lifting shoes for next weekend's lifting cert, clean up Molly's backyard, file a suit against the creep who has my horse and has yet to pay $1 for her, pay rent/utilties, remove the stereo from my old dead truck (RIP Lou!!) and donate him to public radio (gay! Seattle! liberal!), put fenders on my bike and batteries in my lights so I stop driving the 1.5 miles to work, put the canopy on my truck so the dogs aren't riding in the open bed, move the couch from Molly's, go downtown for a top secret mission. Yeah, so not too much, just the ushe. And, on top of all that, I signed up to work two extra shifts this week so I could earn vacation hours for November. And, to seal the deal, I want to not have to do any of this on Saturday so it can be a scary rugby day instead of a stress basket day. Let's see how it goes... I am a psycho.

Otis Redding, orange leaves, snotty face... must be fall.

2009-10-11T12:48:00.000-07:00

I've got slippered feet kicked up on the coffee table, my head is swimming with too much black coffee and too little water. It's golden outside. (I just realized what my next tattoo is going to be) The sky is perfect blue, the trees are perfect brown, the leaves are on fire and the grass is green and poofy before it turns into a winter old man's combover. I'm sick, struggling with a resume and managing to not think about good answers to predictable interview questions I will undoubtably be answering Tuesday morning. I took the CPAT yesterday for Burien Fire. I was sick, tossing and turning from 3am-5am with a fever before I got up and popped a bunch of advil and slept until 6:30. I've taken the CPAT before, no problem. I guess you could see it as a test of if A) you're alive and B) have muscles somewhere in your body. But, that's about it. I passed with 3 minutes to spare, my best time so far, (we're not supposed to know our times but I always sneak a look, the psycho Crossfit mentality wins every time) and I was definitely not in tip top shape. So, there's that. And I have an interview Tuesday morning. There are still 30 of us (unless someone managed to fail the CPAT, which I strongly doubt) competing for one job. But, shoot, that's a better chance than the 50 or so people that Tacoma isn't hiring or the 100 or so people Seattle isn't hiring. Not to mention the lack of phone calls/interviews from every other department I've submitted scores to in the past year. Burien is close to home, urban, and a shot at becoming a career firefighter. I'm stoked/terrified for my interview on Tuesday. But, today, I am home in Carharrts and slippers, sore from this stupid cold and the 8 minutes of activity from yesterday. If you type "Into the Mystic" into Pandora you get a pretty sweet soundtrack to write a resume to. Or register for your Level 1 Crossfit cert to. Or blog to. As it turns out. It's a pretty awesome day, even with this snot in my throat.

It's Cold.

2009-09-30T09:04:00.000-07:00

Fall settled in hard this week. One week ago I had to wear shorts to work so I didn't roast on my Wednesday night shift. Now the windows are frosted over and it's time to pick the green tomatoes because they are definitely not ripening in this frigid air. I have to say, the past few days have been eventful, to say the least. But, I feel like I am paying some penance now and trying to make good choices for myself and others. Monday was a rough workout that I deserved, considering how low my tank was when I did it. And I slept almost 10 hours that night. Tuesday was way wholesome, a sub 4 minute workout (thanks, Laura) and a visit to Dad's in PT that included an hour on his new sailboat. We did run out of wind right in the path of the ferryboat. But, lived to tell the tale. The sky was a deep purple bruise to the south but somehow the sun was bursting through it all. And I realized that my dad must know a lot about clouds. Thirty years as an airline pilot has to leave you with some sort of sense of what a good cloud looks like and what clouds are out for blood. I learned that the hairpiece type clouds that usually sit on Mt Rainier are naughty clouds, since they indicate a lot of upward moving air. And, Dad let me steer the boat, which I enjoyed much more once I learned how to do it. There is something real special about being on small sailboat clipping through a bay. I'm just saying. Especially when it's just you and your dad and you are both okay with silence at times. I had a really great visit with him yesterday. I couldn't have asked for a better day. And seeing Paula, even if only for long enough for us to wolf down our Mexican food, was the best way to end it. So, wholesome it is for the week. I am going to try to cook all my meals today. I'm trying out the Crossfit nutrition assault thing again. We'll see how long it lasts. But, for now, I'm okay with being a dork about food for a while because I obviously don't have the self control needed to pave my own way.

So that's where I am at now. I'll have to see if I can soldier through the rest of the week with some semblance of self-respect since I tend to fall apart the closer the weekend draws...

Why Today is Great...

2009-09-26T10:17:00.001-07:00

6pm. Dawgs v. Cardinals. Let's do it again...
11am rugby. Saturday is a rugby day.
Smoldering fire in the driveway = smokey clothes and a chill night.
Lots of tomatoes to harvest for Mom's sauce.
A new fridge that won't freeze our vegetables!
Morning run with the dogs + the shuffle.
A long overdue clean bedroom.
Fight Gone Bad!
Waking up to tired muscles.
Country music.
Sun in late September.
I always love driving my truck. Doesn't matter where.
Great roommates. Sometimes you just get lucky.
I don't feel like crap because I finally had a low key week. Also long overdue and my body is super thankful.
Good people.

swinging back

2009-09-24T06:50:00.000-07:00

I think every fall I find myself in the same place. This is usually my time to regroup and come down from the high of summer. (Although last year there wasn't much of one since there wasn't much of a summer). And this summer is all the more pivotal in this transition. I feel a little like I need to re-learn how to be an adult. This last summer was awesome but I have definitely neglected plenty of responsibilities in the duration. I think that's okay every once in a while, as long as you come back to earth and reclaim some sort of claim on your life. And these transitions are always the best for me. A chance to live up to my full virgo potential (or so I hear) and attempt to organize the shit out of some as impossible to organize as living. But a challenge I'll accept nonetheless! I can't get over how much I love fall, I think more than summer even. Summer is a time to live without excuses or apologies, even though you should probably be making plenty of each. Fall is a time to cut back the garden, clean out the gutters, mow the lawn one last time and then know that you are relieved from the responsibility of outdoor work. It's one last hurrah for all the stuff you were "going to do this summer" and then a wonderful peace that comes with knowing that this is the time for soups and walks and decorations and pies and family and friends. Three months of it! January and February are their own problem but, until then, it's the best time of the year. And this year (2009! dear god) it's a chance to recover from some blunders (ahem, Public Safety) by hopefully putting it all out there when it counts (Burien) and keep that ace in the hole with fungers crossed (Tacoma). But, this year, as opposed to years passed, I feel more in the driver's seat. I think I know more what I want and am trying to learn the patience that is necessary when you have a narrowly focused desire. Patience has never been a strong suit of mine. I mean, I'm actually super miserable at it. But, this year, more than most, I am learning it or it is learning me, but regardless, I'm getting it.

Almost fall...

2009-09-11T07:51:00.000-07:00

This is my favorite time of year. The leaves are turning. College football opened last weekend, nicely timed with the arrival of the first crop of Honeycrisp apples (the best way to blow $3 on a single food item). I have to turn the heat on in the truck in the morning or at night. The dogs have an extra zing in their step as the air gets a little more crisp. The damn pumpkin still won't produce, even though it's taken over the back corner of the yard and much of the garden. Obviously it's in no rush to save us some money and give us a couple giant pumpkins for Halloween. The smell of woodsmoke filters through the air randomly, giving the folks downtown an itch for burn bans probably. It's gold and cold and everything tastes better in the fall. We're still 11 days away from the official start but the seasons seem to turn earlier in our hearts than on the calander. This is the time of year when I trade cheap lagers for microbrewed dark lagers (big step!) and the grill for a soup pot. I listen to NPR in the mornings instead of KMPS and I leaf through fancy home magazines and wander off to bed at 10:00 instead of doin' it up until midnight or later. It's early mornings that feel like night and that soft sense of looming hibernation we all share. The wind blew in from the north yesterday, ruffling all the papers on my desk. That hasn't happened since last fall.

As the seasons click by it's hard not to wonder where the time goes. But now we have things like Facebook and Blogspot to track the time, to remind us where we were a year ago, or two months ago. And, even though I choose to not reflect much, if at all, on olden times, I like that the option is there. Although, somehow, and maybe it's the change of seasons, I feel way more at peace with today than I usually do. It feels more like an old pair of jeans than I am used to.

Last thing before I go to work. It's hard to believe that eight years ago those planes crashed into the towers and all those people died. Eight years. I woke up this morning to a man on the radio who had lost two sons, both New York City firefighters, in that tragedy. He was oddly at peace with it. He had the chance to one of them as he was riding to the site. Their last words to each other were, "I love you." It was a horrible and beautiful thing to hear, still groggy from sleep. He said that he wouldn't change anything. He spoke about the pride of both boys being firefighters and how lucky he was to have his last communication be words of love. If nothing else, this day should be a day to appreciate everyone in our lives. It's scary how quickly things can change. But, knowing that we love each other is what makes this time we have together as awesome as it is.

2009-09-07T22:03:00.000-07:00

Really I am procrastinating right now. But, rather than putter around the house anymore, slightly agitated, I thought I would give this blog a little revival and actually write down some of the things on my mind. Sometimes I find myself trying to control every tiny thing in my life. Everywhere I turn I feel like I am disappointed by what I see. Usually (almost always) I fail to recognize that this means that I'm really worried about some 800lb gorilla that I can't bring myself to acknowledge. Today that gorilla is the damn Public Safety test. I've taken it 2-3 times before. I've always scored in the 90s. But that's not enough on this test. And I can imagine even 100% right now is going to be competitive, especially since no one I know of is hiring yet. I feel like I am living my life as if it belongs to someone else right now, like I'm waiting to step in and take over when I get this shot at a job I really want. I'm starting to feel like a dweeb, a wannabe. And it's getting a little old. I mean, I want this all more than ever now. And I feel ready in every respect. But, every chance I have to submit an application or take a test I get amped up, agitated, nervous. I mean, of course I want to do well, but I'm more nervous about the aftermath. The eagerness that eventually mellows into disappointment. It's been less than two years since I started testing but I assumed it would be easier than this. And I didn't think it would be easy. I just thought I'd have at least one or two interviews under my belt by this point. I don't want to be the person that lives with their life on hold while waiting for one thing to come through but I have a hard time going one day without this returning to the forefront of my mind at least once. I hate emo people and those who hint all around their emotions to get attention but, shit, every time I hear a fire engine roar by I feel like my stomach is preparing for the day I get to be onboard. Mostly I am eager for the complete feeling that it must be to love your job, to feel a part of something productive and necessary. Even those days you don't want to go to work it must be the shit to do so knowing you're a damn important cog in the wheel. I'm excited to be proud of my career and to know it fits perfectly with the rest of my life. I can wait until then. I have it just fine right now. But, something is missing and every opportunity I have to compete for a position I get damn nervous. So, definitely enough procrastinating. Time to cram some more studying into my head before getting some rest.

change

2009-06-08T22:38:00.000-07:00

It's funny how life tricks you into thinking you're making radical changes when I'm pretty sure moss grows fat on all of us. Like, in the next two months I'm going to move out of this house. That's crazy. Seriously, it feels really weird that I'll actually live somewhere else. That I'll walk up another set of stairs and put my key in a different lock and set my bag on a different kitchen floor. Before any of that happens though I'll have to wade through the attic, knee deep in class notes, ugly clothes, gadgets and gizmos aplenty. And, here's where the moss grew. It's everything I've ever moved from a different house. The same way there are chickens in the backyard and I still have too many animals. It's like my inability to show up on time to anything, no matter how many punctual resolutions I make. It's my sporadic visitations to my mom and my growing guilt about not seeing the Belfair fam more. It's the laundry on my floor and the grey polo shirt my dad bought me in sixth grade that is still too big. It's how quickly the grass grows and how there are already green cherries on the tree and how the birds have already eaten them, greedy little bastards. It's time to get the dogs spring shots and time to worm the horses again. The details are like sand between stepping stones. But, I'm planning on making cottage cheese pancakes tomorrow morning. My dad made breakfast for us every morning he was home. And these awesome red pajamas still fit, a present from Grandma gone right. I still have no idea how to not make my hands look like a peasant's and I still don't care. I add a few boxes to the mix each year but even though the packaging changes the product is still the same. And, who am I kidding, I'm too cheap and distracted to even change the packaging? That should make this next move fine.

Summer '09

2009-06-07T08:22:00.000-07:00

Two weeks until the official start of summer. But, Summer09 has been cranking for over a month now. Mostly it's been a lot of cheap beer. A lot of beer pong (or, more lately, water pong). A lot of nights crawling into bed late, dirty, covered in dry sweat. (I never said it was going to be a clean summer) So, that's good. I mean, the drinking and sweating and getting dirty. Except the almost getting choked to death at Golden Gardens by a WSU winger. THAT sucked. But, the rest, great. I do hope to expand my repertoire though. I am stoked to be playing rugby again. I mean, it's all muscle memory, right? It's like coming back home. I like playing with a different team, new people, new ideas on how to do things, new ways of cheering each other on. I like that. And I am warming up to 7s, even though I think it's going to be a little tough to dismantle some of the habits by the end of the summer. I am interested to see what it looks like next weekend when we actually play a game. Should be interesting. But, yesterday, getting out on the hike, that was the best. Seriously. It was what has been missing. There's something too perfect about only thinking about your next step, your next handhold, keeping balance while you're scrambling up a small mountain. And having buddies and dogs out there (really one and the same...) rounds it out. Getting to the mossy top of that ridge was the best part of my day. The clouds hip-huggers on that mountain across the way, riding low like a basement ceiling, making it feel like we were higher than we really were. The dogs were so satisfied, just like us. I could have done that all day long. I want to hike every chance I get this summer. I could drink a whole lot less if it meant getting up early to get out on trails. I think my body would probably appreciate that. I want to hike with my dogs, and my sister, and my friends and my dad (although he gets annoyed when I get out of view so it means taking a lot of breaks). So, I have to figure out the next hike for sure.

Meggie.

2009-06-03T22:54:00.000-07:00

I have been putting off writing about this. When I went to my mom's yesterday it took me over an hour to walk over to the place they buried Megan. Seeing that huge spread of tore-up ground still didn't jar anything in me. It was like looking at a construction site before the rebar. I didn't know where her head was, if, maybe as I crouched there, I was really talking to her butt. I didn't know what to say. Like I hadn't known her these seventeen years. Like she hadn't done her best to raise me right, using every trick in her pony book to get me off her back and get herself back to the barn. So, I just said that I was proud to be a product of her schooling, sorry I hadn't been there for her in her old age the way she'd been there for me in my young years. And then I couldn't shut up. You saw me through divorced parents, twelve different addresses, third grade through my bachelor's degree, through wanting to be a professional rider, a vet, a cop, a teacher and then a firefighter. I've ran from you and chased after you. I've shared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies with you, and you've stolen your fair share as well. I've risked life and limb riding you loose in the pasture and we won that red ribbon down in Chehalis that summer. You've thrown me into mud puddles, fences, jumps, and soft grass. You've tried to knock my head off by running under low-hanging cedar limbs and take my legs off my cutting it too close to the barn posts. You let me wear spurs and carry a crop and only bucked every once in a while. You stopped slamming on the brakes at fences and started jumping over them. Then you realized you could eat the hay bales we tried to jump. You put up with every friend I put on your back and sent galloping up the driveway. You were the trustiest steed in poker-stabber-stick. Well, maybe not trusty, unless trusty means I could count on you to always stop and start snacking when I least expected it. You scared the shit out of me when you got sick and ended up needed surgery to unclog your dang guts, just because you were an equine vacuum cleaner and couldn't let any tiny piece of grain escape you, along with all the dirt it was laying in. I still remember coloring in the waiting room in those early hours, coloring like a psychopath while I waited for the surgeon to come out and show me a handful of the sand that had almost killed you. And then two days later, belly full of staples holding you shut, you were pulling the vet techs like they were full of helium when you'd spy a patch of grass in the hospital parking lot. Your star got wild and huge on your face, like a supernova and you were so aggressive about getting your udders scratched, single-minded to the end. I wish I'd spent more time with you, even if it was just scratching you. I still couldn't keep my seat if I hopped on you, me twice what I used to weigh and you ten years older. You'd still take me for a ride and swerve dangerously close to Jewel, knowing she'd try to kick you, and probably knowing just how you'd maneuver so I was the one that took the hoof. You were pretty quiet but your knicker was my favorite. I'm sorry that my kids will never meet you and I can only hope that I'll be able to find them a teacher half as good as you were. I don't think there's every been a scrappier, tougher-than-nails, verocious creature out there. You were the one, Megs. You raised me right and I owe you my childhood. All my love. I hope the grass is delicious wherever you are.

May 30th.

2009-06-01T20:35:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while I hit my limit of my current line of employment. Ask Molly. I’ll suddenly lose it and swear that I’m going to quit. And I never have the guts because I am paid well, treated like family, have great benefits, and would feel terrible pulling the rug out from under all these people who have looked out for me for the past four years. Also I verbally committed to three to five years and I only just passed my two-year mark. I always knew that a job offer from a fire department would mean I would break that commitment but I also imagined that I would have had one of those offers by now. I don’t know why I figured I would get an offer in the first year or so of testing, not that many people are that lucky or that good, but I just assumed it was destined to be so I didn’t imagine myself turning 26 and working at a desk for a large part of my job. Now I just feel like the openings are going to be few and far between and there will be even more people competing for them, a lot of awesome, over-qualified people. I mean, I’m going to keep the faith, but this trip is making me realize that I need to figure out something in the meantime. This trip doesn’t at all represent where I work. But, it just makes me think of what it’s going to be like to spend another summer outfitting people with athletic stuff when the sun is beating down its limited-time-only rays and I’m under-stimulated mentally and physically. I feel like such an ungrateful creepy for wanting out but it’s just not me. I mean, it never has been me but there are a lot of aspects about it that I can appreciate and I’ve been treated so well that it’s kept me working. But, I have a hard time working hard when my heart isn’t in something. I’ll work out of duty or because I’m worried I’ll get yelled at. But, most of what I’ve done in my whole life I’ve done because I’ve absolutely loved it. I rode horses because I loved it. I worked at barns as stable hands and grooms because I loved it. I went to college and studied relatively hard because I loved it. I played, and later coached, rugby because I loved it. I volunteered as a firefighter because I loved it. When I look back on my life and see what took up the bulk of my time, these are those things. And now, I have something taking up the bulk of my time and I don’t love it at all. At times I’m resentful of it and definitely have not put my all into it the way the job should be gotten at. And it’s a job a lot of people would be super proud to have. I feel like I’m hogging a spot that someone else would shine in. Like an imposter. An imposter with a salary and health insurance though so it makes it hard to just drop it like its hot in this down economy. And I’m not a princess that thinks that everything in life should be neat and fun and there should be no sacrifice. I haven’t loved every job I’ve ever had. But, I don’t have a mortgage or kids so I don’t have those outer responsibilities that might keep someone else at a job they don’t love. I’m in a part of my life where I only really have to answer to myself and I feel like I’m squandering it while I’m waiting for something I have limited control over. So, I e-mailed my advisor type person. She’s a firefighter who I met at Camp Blaze a six years ago and her advice means a lot. I asked her if she had any thoughts on what I could pursue while I was waiting to get hired, like what would look best on a resume. The way I see it, if I were to quit my current job, I have four options: get back into fire as a resident, probably at North; get re-certified as an EMT and work for private ambulance; get re-certified as an EMT and apply to paramedic school; or go back to community college for my fire science degree. I don’t know what weight each of those holds when applying to fire departments. I would ideally like to work for a large enough department that they plan on training you, in all regards, themselves, but I know the smaller departments value prior training and I can’t be picky on departments now. Going back to work as a resident would be both good and bad at the same time. I mean, I would love to just do the job again, even if it means not being paid for it. But, I wouldn’t be ale to hold any regular job to actually make money because the shifts aren’t on the same days week-to-week. I could work for myself or my mom and probably make enough to pay rent and buy groceries but there wouldn’t be a whole lot else leftover. But, it would allow me to maintain my EMT-cert and have my name out there for the smaller departments. Working for a private ambulance would mean a huge decrease in pay and being treated like shit at work. But, I’d be interested in the work and would maintain my EMT-cert. Going to medic school would mean I’m not only not making money, I’m paying a few thousand bucks to spend my time elsewhere. And it wouldn’t start until September ’10, if I were even accepted. That’s a long ways off and I would hope to have things sorted out by then. But, being a medic would mean my pool of competition would shrink a ton and I’d start at a higher pay grade. I would also be looked at as a nurse and having snuck my way into a fire department though the back door and that would piss me off until I could prove otherwise. I want to enter as a firefighter but I want to get my foot in the door no matter what. And, going to school for my fire science degree seems like it could look good and definitely refresh my memory, and I’m sure I’d learn new things too. But, I’m still paying money and time to go to school when I do have to bring home at least a little bit of bacon. So, it’s a dilemma. But, I’m going to ponder it for the next couple weeks. I know myself well enough to know what this is though and it’s one of those times in my life when the tides turn. I have ‘em every couple of years and this one has been way overdue. I gotta git after what I want because no one else is going to do it for me.

May 29th.

2009-06-01T20:34:00.002-07:00

I bet something that’s weird about me is that I like/love zydeco, swamp pop, creole, Cajun, whatever you want to call it. Like, smack a fiddle and an accordion together and someone wailing in American French and it makes my heart soar like an eagle. I want to get tickets to the Port Townsend Fiddle Tunes again this year on whatever day the Cajun bands are going to be there. I would totally plan an accordion. It would be an exercise in the strength of my friendships. Also, I am finally tired at an appropriate time. Like, I’ve been getting tired mid-day lately. And I’ve also had these insane neck/headaches. I’ve sort of had them popping up over the past couple weeks. But they’ve been more intense on this trip and I’m not sure if it’s the sun (like eye strain?) or boredom or lack of good exercise or what. But, it kills and I haven’t had neck problems for a while now and suddenly they are back, along with a headache. Shitty.

May 28th.

2009-06-01T20:34:00.001-07:00

Eff it is hot as balls in this hotel room. It’s midnight. I am exhausted but this heat is like starring in a high school musical wearing a wool sweater. I am also a touch done with luxury. I can’t hang with these peeps. It’s ungrateful and I apologize to my karma but I’m not cut out for business. I think when it comes down to it I’m too simple for this sort of thing, and not in a good way probably. I just don’t get it. I don’t care. And I’m pretty sure something just darted behind my curtains. Like a creature of the dessert that probably came in during one of the many hours I’ve left my door open. I hope it stays on the floor while I sleep. If I sleep. This damn heat is over exuberant and a little too persistent. But, like I was saying about this convention. I really appreciate all the trouble that the company went through to put us up in this really nice hotel and to feed us way too many calories all day long. And to take us to the ballgame etc. But, by day two (today), I am toast. Like, I can’t talk shop this long, or really at all. I have the utmost respect for my company. I think it’s probably one of the best-run businesses that exists, anywhere. And I am grateful for my job, especially in this climate. Yet I’m still unexcited for anything beyond my day-to-day duties of unpacking boxes, putting shoes on the shelves, and then putting them on peoples’ feet. That’s the end of it for me. I don’t have a greater vision or greater intention beyond that. And, really, I’d rather be putting out fires and getting cats out of trees. Or, I thought on this trip, it might be fun to teach PE. Like, teachers are getting laid of left and right and I doubt that PE is a field that has many openings in the best of time seeing as how kids aren’t even required to do it half the time. So, that’s a pipe dream for sure. And I’d still WAY rather be a firefighter. But, I think PE teacher would be a second. How gay is that? I mean, right? I mean, why fight the stereotypes when they are so true. We definitely had that PE teacher in my high school. Also the basketball coach. And she was dating one of the science teachers. I think. But, it would be fun to teach kids how to play games all day long and maybe get the awkward girls to unfold their arms and maybe enjoy one game every once in a while and to get the awful mean boys to stop trying to throw baseballs with enough force to kill someone and have an ounce of team spirit. I think middle school would be the place for me. The center of hell. The worst time of everyone’s life. It could be a good time. Just sayin’. And summers off would be saweet. But, I still want to be a firefighter. I’m too stubborn and single-minded to get past that any time soon. June will definitely be a time for more tests and a lot of studying for them this time. I love studying in the summer. I love my short attention span and being inside while it’s 75 and sunny out and then saying I’ll just study outside and then throwing the ball for the dog and then maybe weeding and then cleaning the chicken coop and then maybe mowing and weed whacking and possibly going to the beach or getting drunk or both. But, seriously, this trip makes me realize how important it is to me to not be in this position in the very near future. And I can’t keep saying that the way I sometimes say a lot of things for a long time but don’t actually do them. Like clean the attic. Or fold my laundry. Or get a haircut. Or wash my truck. Or clip Suzy’s nails. Becoming a firefighter, or at least not continuing in a job that I’m unfulfilled in, is more important than any and all of those things. To the hundredth power. So, another night where I write about the same thing. But, like I said, I’m pretty single-minded. I’d say I have about six or seven rotating thoughts that are passing through my mind at any given point in the day. Sort of like an animal, but maybe they only have three or four? I hope. So, it’s either rugby, or outside, or dogs, or chores, or firefighting, or working out, or people. That’s pretty much it. Those are the things I think about. And thusly the things I write about. Pretty endless. Darn it. It happens.

May 27th.

2009-06-01T20:31:00.000-07:00

I am sitting outside my hotel room in Scottsdale. It’s pitch black and not even nine o’clock yet. But the weather is incredible. The air is thicker than at home but it was ninety degrees today so I guess that makes sense that that blanket would linger past dark. It’s the perfect temperature to sit outside in shorts and a t-shirt and forget that temperature even exists. I’m sitting here drinking tea and writing and it feels like something that I would try and set up at a different time but not be into the tea or the writing or the sitting. The fact that I can just be here right now is so good to me. And those are the times that I really feel life is all about. For as much as I plan what I really want are these times where its all right in front of you. Everything is satisfying. Like right now I really like the way it feels to type. Somehow that’s enough. I like the sound of the crickets and their different volumes. I like the really quiet country song coming out of my computer. I like this luke warm tea and how easy it is to drink. I like how tired I am right now and knowing that I am going to bed in just a few minutes. I know it’s not possible to maintain this immersion but I am thankful for the times I get it. Every corner of life has texture and some strange velocity that you hadn’t noticed before. It’s winter drapes and crushed ice and butterscotch pudding. I just wish I could see that more than I do. But, then I’ll try to make a point to ‘be in the moment’ and that’s just super douchy to do that. Next think you know you’re slacklining between trees at Green Lake and then running into the lake with all your clothes on, or maybe you’re totally naked. Because everything needs to be an Experience. Stupid. Everything is an experience. It’s just that a lot of the time we’re so worried about what’s on the horizon we forget to look at our feet and see that we’re somewhere beautiful or terrifying or somber. And we lose our ability to know up from down. I think that’s one of my biggest fears in life. I don’t want to be walled off from what’s happening. I think I’ve done that a considerable amount in my quarter century. I can really focus on what needs to happen in two hours or tomorrow or next month or ten years from now. Every once in a while I give myself a swift kick and realize it’s crazy to treat time like an octopus because you are not in control of those arms and there are way more than eight. Our neighborhood paper always did a section on graduating seniors, with a short profile on each one. It asked where you saw yourself in five years. In a rare moment of no foresight I said that five years ago I was 12 and I never would have expected to be where I was at 17. So I had no idea. And at 23 I was that different person my 17 year-old self wouldn’t recognize. So, why force it? I mean, I ask this question to myself. I am the biggest culprit out there.

I do have to get to sleep. My thoughts are definitely getting sandy. But, I am thankful for this Arizona night. There’s a note on my balcony door reminding me to close it so the dessert creatures don’t help themselves to my complimentary toiletries and take up residence in the second (yes there are two) bed in the room. But, I’m thinking the sound of crickets is not something I want to keep out. And, so what if I wake up with a lizard on my chest? The don’t have teeth. Do they?

Tryin' to get it. It's hard.

2009-05-25T22:36:00.000-07:00

I sat down with this intention to write and it's just not happening. Okay, and wow, it somehow smells straight up like chicken shit in my bedroom. I am not understanding how this can be. Yesterday Suzy blew ass chunks all over my bedroom while I was at work. I mean, mission burrito style layered in my laundry. I cleaned that like I was Cinderella. And now I'm here, in bed, sort of wanting to sleep soon, and wafts of eau d' chicken shit keep waving over me. I don't understand. I mean, my window is open but, really? I don't think it smells like that outside. I think it is in here. Maybe on a dog? Maybe on me?? Jesus. Too much.

But, back to writing, I feel like I write about the same stupid stuff always. So, I'm sort of over it. I need greener pastures. Just kidding. I'll write about that same stuff tomorrow. But, I do wish I had something new today. Although that would probably require me to have done something different today to write about. And I didn't. I worked, surprisingly little for being gone for a week but there was not as much to do as I expected. And then I came home and played fetch with the dogs. And was grumpy for a bit. That was different. I haven't been a grump for a while. Then we went to Rob and Tara's bbq and that was good times. I ate food off a grill and drank beer, sort of like Saturday. But it was awesome to see all those guys because I have not done that recently and they are terrific folk, worthy of seeing way more than I actually see them. Playing drunk softball was fun. That I have not done before. I am not good at softball I think. If I could change my beer pong throw with my softball hit then I'd be money at both. But I got the pop fly and the line drive in the wrong sports. What was amazing was the spectators. Like, there were some good plays I suppose if you're a sports fan, but really, it was a bunch of awesome drunk people trying to move a big fat white ball around a field, fairly unsuccessfully. And people watched, like the whole game. Amazing. I would like to continue playing this. Although it's pretty labor intensive. Like, you need multiple people. Multiple multiple people. And I feel like all my friends actually played softball at some point and I think I'd probably get pissed if I couldn't just suck at it and enjoy being terrible. I'll have to play with them to find out I think. But, that was the day. Laura came over and played some beer/water pong. We tossed a rugby ball around in the street. I think she's going to be a baller. And that was my night, seriously. Beer, friends, beer pong or rugby. Dogs. I mean, I'm not complaining, but at some point I don't know what to say about it. I have a lot of different thoughts every day but they are gone by the time I can sit down in front of the computer and then it all blends into the same shade of good times and general happiness. There is nothing wrong with that. I mean, it is summer 09 so it's to be expected. But, I sort of want more thoughts. Maybe I should have less beer and there will be more thoughts.

One thing I am excited about is hiking. I hiked the shit out of the Olympics with my dad when I was a kid and I just haven't gotten back since it's become my job to choose the hike and get the hiking pass and figure out the route etc. But I decided that I am hiking this summer, above all else. I think most free Saturdays need to be spent in the mountains. The only part of hiking that sucks is hiking in the damn crowded Cascades. The Olympics are so great because when you run into people on the trail you feel comradery, like, oh hey a person, and it's a person who also likes being out in the woods in their free time. In the Cascades it's like a fucking freeway. People are in passing lanes and there are damn trail runners whizzing by with fanny packs of water bottles. And people scowl at you if you have your dog off leash, like your off-leash dog is scaring off all the wildlife, not the hundreds of thousands of people that are basically running all over the mountain. No one makes eye contact and they definitely have never heard of the hiking rule where if you're headed down the mountain you step off the trail to let those coming up keep going. Douchebags. So, I sort of hate the other hikers in the Cascades but I think the change of scenery is neat and different than the Olympics for sure. And this hike I want to do next week has a super terrible road up to it so I am hoping that will deter all these freaks in their fancy cars that'll get roughed up in the potholes. That was fairly negative, all in all, but I mean to sound exicted for hiking because I miss the smells and the burn in the legs and the camp robbers.

This blog is ridiculous. I need to try again later.

awesome

2009-05-25T07:01:00.000-07:00

The best thing I have heard today (it might only be 7am but I bet this still stands true when I go to bed tonight). "It's like a disease you want to have." - Leah, on rugby.

today

2009-05-24T22:17:00.000-07:00

I am so glad to be home. I really am. I love seeing my family but home is where I belong. I was called a "lady" today at work. I love Seattle. So much better than being a man on the east coast. I don't have much to say tonight because I am tired. But, I love home. I love friends. I love my family. I love my dogs, even though Suzy shit all over my room and my nice clothes. I love Charlie, he's a carebear and a bear cub and has become my friend. I love the wild yard and how I'm going to tame the shit out of it once I'm done flying all over the effing country. I'm going to mow the grass and plant a garden and paint that fricken fence white again. I love those trees we planted out front and how big they've gotten in the past two years. I love the patio and it's stupid divet that is not perfect. I love our shitty beer pong table and the one I am going to replace it with. And the mountains and dogs and rivers and goal posts that will be painted on top of it. I love Lake City and it's shitty stores and dive bars and the weird awesome people who live in them. I love not hating and thinking that most people and things are good, even if I talk shit in the meantime. The bad makes the good, you know? I am learning to love the grey, along with the black and white. I am learning to love the middle ground and its vastness and possibility. I love that every piece of clothing I love is covered in stains. I love taking long showers even though it kills the environment. Isn't water all over this damn city anyways? I love my big red truck even though she also kills the environment. I love that she appeared just like I knew she would since I was a kid. And that's she's shinier and louder and more perfect than I imagined she would be. I love getting compliments from old men in parking lots and they are probably unclear as to my gender and why I own such a badass truck. But she's mine and always will be and I will love learning how to fix her myself and make her life long and important. I love that The End plays good music again and that I can listen to it in my truck because it's not raining much so my radio works again. I love that stupid radio and how I have to smack it (with love) each time it cuts out and that it's cheaper and better to just keep it, even though it sucks. I love the way the dogs look when they are sleeping. How it's peacefulness at its most perfect and their dreams are probably wild and full of creatures and sticks and mud. I love when my dreams are like that too. I love sitting in an inner tube on a hot river and drinking a beer and then dropping my can in my tube and cracking open another one and probably flipping over later even though the river is calm and I'm just drunk and happy. I love the way it feels to take off a heavy backpack at the top of the mountain and having to pull your sweaty shirts off your shoulders because it's stuck there and you feel like you could float off the top of the mountain because the air is thin and quiet and the best thing you've ever put into your lungs. I love the big hearts of strangers and their good ways. And I love fishing, even though it scares me to kill creatures that think they are just gettin' a delicious snack. Surprise! No snack, just a barbed hook and a quick trip to the surface and a hungry human. Shocking and exciting for all involved. I love how brief and violent the blooming season is, all the colors and falling blossoms and pollen. I love how it turns into the greenest you've ever seen until August makes the grass hard and mean and something you don't need to mow anymore. I love the smell of Value Village and how it means that they probably don't wash any of their donations and you are just putting on another person's clothes that they are too fat or skinny or old or young for. I love the ridiculous potholes and bumps in all the side streets and how you can ride them just right so you feel like you're offroading in the city. I love that the city is just the country condensed sometimes and you're in it with a lot of other people and that's okay to share this space together. I love the quietness of the real country and how it will be the way it is long after we're all gone and it'll remember us the way you remember being barefoot as a kid. I love the trees that want to be climbed and the old ones that have pulled their branches twenty feet off the ground because they're done with climbing and our foolish monkey ways. I love the brambles and how picking blackberries is like eating hot fried food because it hurts but you can't stop because you just want it and the pain is an okay trade off. I love that. I love the smell of leather and how you can turn something old and dry back to soft and functional if you just use the right amount of soap and water and time and you have to use your hands because sponges are for fools. I love the smell of horses, like hay and breath and sweet grass in the spring. I love that they let you just stand with them, almost better than riding them because they're into it to. You just stand there and that's it, you and them, and they are probably twitching their ears and flicking their tails and you aren't doing any of that but they're okay with it because you give them grain that's appreciated so you can be a part of the herd for a couple minutes. And something will probably spook them and they'll gallop to the other end of the pasture to stand there with their ears and tails ticking like a wristwatch. I love johnny jump-ups that will grow in a driveway or a bed of roses because they just roll like they, calm and cool as purple cucumbers and okay with who they are. I love that. I love the way your blood feels when you really love a song and how you listen to it because it makes your heart beat stronger and with such honest purpose. I love drinking out of glass bottles and jars and how real and heavy and good glass is when plastic is so much cheaper and already taking up too much space in our oceans. I love driving up a driveway and being excited to be at that place and I love parking on a hill and putting the truck in first or reverse and turning the wheels to the curb and the sound the emergency brake makes. I love remembering to turn off my lights every time because I've killed many a battery for not remembering that simple task. I love the challenge of breaking into a car I've locked myself out of and all the different things that can be used to unhitch that lock. I love the smell of fire and its loyalty the next morning. I love that this was supposed to be a short post and it wasn't.

May 22nd.

2009-05-24T21:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the one day I left my camera (cell phone) behind and it was the one day I really wanted it with me. We went down to Rowledge Pond just to hang out and it was the best time I have had on this trip. We tried catching frogs for about two minutes but I think I’ve lost my touch. I don’t know if I had more patience or grace or stealth as a kid but I definitely have none of those things now. Also, the frog pond was a steep-banked mudhole that I wanted no part of and the waterline was covered with super dry leaves. Those frogs are super smart for choosing that muck hole as their home – it’s like a fortress. So, we gave up on that pretty quick. But, the pond has a dock on it that’s nice to hang your feet off of. Which was a nice way to pass about two minutes until we got distracted by a bunch of mussel shells in the water. Greedy fat human? Or a neat pond creature I have not heard of? After Dad and Paula were done canoeing around the kids (we’re in out 20s but we’ll always be the kids on these trips) got their chance and we went around as close to the shore as we could. I had the honor of paddling, which is a feat in and of itself that we even made it around. But, we saw water snakes, some sort of water mammal (otter? Beaver? Muskrat?), turtles sunbathing, and we heard something huge drop off a branch above the water but we couldn’t see it and didn’t know if we wanted to from the sound of the plop. Then, the best part was when Dad and Uncle Frank took me out to teach me how to cast the bait-and-cast fishing pole. I was terrible. I mean, I still am terrible. But they were awesome and patient and gave me about an hour tooling around the edges of the pond. I probably casted that thing a hundred times and, near the end, started getting a little better. I only had a few casts that I didn’t need to unravel but, lo and behold, about five minutes before we were done, I caught the one and only fish of the trip. He was just a little guy and I swung him right over to Uncle Frank to de-hook. It was a large mouth bass and he did have a huge mouth, like on the fishing shows. But, he was less than a foot long. We weren’t going to keep him anyway, at least I don’t think that was the plan since there was nothing but the fishing pole and a cell phone in the boat. So, I told him that he knew what to look out for and better luck next time and plunked him back in the water. That made my night for sure. So, there’s that. Al and I got to make dinner when we got back to the house. I’d started some bread before going to the pond and had put it in Aunt Carol’s car to raise since it was super hot in there. It had done its job so we made the pasta mom always made us growing up and Dad made a salad. It turned into a decent dinner, if not a massive carbo overload. Delicious. And that was the day.

May 21st.

2009-05-24T21:51:00.000-07:00

Traveling always makes me think of home. I think that’s why I am so bad at it. I love seeing new things and I like talking to different people. But, even though I’m not scared of being lost, I don’t like outsider status and always feel like I look like a tourist, even if I’m wearing whatever clothes I normally wear. Seattle style (not that I actually have any inkling of style at home) just doesn’t translate to other places. For instance, I have been a girl way less than a boy on this coast. Baggy shorts and t-shirts don’t cut it for a lot of these peeps, with their miniature inseams and huge boobs (tiny shirts made of spider webs) and huge sunglasses and make-up. I don’t think people think twice about setting me in ‘man’ category since I got none of that. I’m used to it but I forgot bathroom clips and I’m seriously getting ready to carry a pink bow to smack on top of my head before entering any women’s restroom. But, I didn’t mean to write about that, it just tangented away on its own. What I was thinking about was how much being away from home makes me appreciate it. I miss my dog. At home she can get on my nerves but I miss her huge smiling face (whether its from happiness or craziness) and playing fetch with her and watching her run like she’s on fire just to get a nasty tennis ball and bring it back for another go. I get excited when the sun comes out here because it makes me think of what summer is going to be like at home. I think that’s the best thing about May. This summer is as endless as a prairie, it’s touches the horizon and you know it goes further than you can see. It’s always different in August, when you realize you’ve done almost none of what you wanted to do and you’re just hot and sweaty and probably at work. But, that’s August and this is May. I’m looking forward to hiking to lakes with the dogs and barbequing in the backyard and running in the morning because it’s too hot in the afternoon and weeding the garden (planting the garden!) and eating all the good stuff that comes out of it and going to Molly’s cabin on the one weekend her parents aren’t there and swimming in rivers and ponds and hopefully riding my horse without getting bucked off and going fishing and maybe catching something but, if I do, I want to cook it over a fire and visiting Miranda in Paisley when the sun is out for blood and drinking in bars with air conditioning and drinking on the porch without it. My Dad said he’d give me this build-a-boat kit that he’s had for years and done nothing with. He said I just needed a hammer and drill and screwdriver to build it so we shall see if that’s the case or it its much more complicated than that. I am banking on the latter. But, if I do get the damn thing built, and it actually float, then I have a fishing boat and that is awesome. I’m not sure how big it is but I am hoping I can put it in the back of my truck, although I feel like that is tiny, even for a dinghy. I look forward to the naming and christening of it. I think I’m supposed to break champagne over the bow but I think it’ll more likely be a bottle of Rainier. Those are tough to come by but I bet I could buy one from the Sloop, they would understand. I’m definitely not much of a sailor though. I’ve only ever capsized small boats in the Puget Sound. It sort of freaks me out to be skittering along the water like a water beetle on crack. You tack or jibe the wrong way and suddenly you’re flipped like a turtle on its back and your sailing instructor, a grizzly bearded old guy named Barney who smells like sweat and seaweed, has to come haul you out of the water into his powerboat and you end up wearing his ripe old t-shirt the rest of the day because the Sound is damn cold. I like rowboats and little speedboats though. And I really liked this old sailboat named the Unicorn that was docked at Eagle Harbor. When I was staying with my dad on his boat we’d always walk by her at night and I’d imagine buying her one day and being a liveaboard like my dad. But, again, I love the water but I don’t see myself as a great sailor. I can drink and tie knots and smell like salt but I think I’d only enjoy sailing in the storms and I’d want a purpose, like fishing or rescuing people or pillaging other vessels, because sailing just to sail seems like too much for me. I’m like a sheepdog – give me something to herd and I’m happy but if I don’t have a job I’ll make up my own and it’s probably biting ankles or rounding up chickens.

On a separate note, the coffee out here is absolutely terrible. It’s like the worst gas station coffee you can imagine back home, but worse. And it’s everywhere. I always assumed the stereotype of Seattle coffee was blown out of proportion but, oh no, it’s very much to scale. This coffee is thinner than water and flavored only by whatever milk or nasty creamer you decide to cut it with. I am looking forward to grinding my own beans and making the thickest, blackest sludge I can on Saturday morning.

Last thoughts because it’s amazing outside and I should be out there instead of writing in here (just can’t stop the beat)… I’m seriously obsessed with this summer. Not in a wild and crazy way (although my drinking habits have been ridiculous as of late) but in an outside way. I always get sucked into too much city and too much work and too much boring bullshit during the summer. And I am going to do my very best to do my job, do it well, but to get out of the Jock as much as possible this summer. I only have one night shift until September. Even though it makes sense to work nights so you can be outside during the day I still hate it because it’s this gross wart that just lingers at the end of a beautiful morning, knowing I have to go into a busy, sweaty, dark place with no air conditioning. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an awesome place to work, but I’m past my time there and have been for quite a while. I was so cockily sure that I would be a firefighter before I turned 26. Now it looks like I’ll be lucky to get the job before I turn 30, if ever. I’m already starting to think of contingency plans. I don’t want to because since I was 19 that’s all I’ve imagined myself doing. It wasn’t so much that I was wishing and hoping to be a firefighter. I KNEW it was going to happen, just didn’t know when. When we were drilling at the tower at North one day the chief and my captain and a couple administrative staff were standing outside smoking. They called me over and I hopped to. They asked me how old I was, I said twenty, and they told me I could get back to the drill. Later, one of the LTs asked me if I knew why they asked me that. I said I didn’t and he said they were making bets on when I’d be hired and they figured right when I turned 21. That was when the economy was roaring (only five years ago) and it was a good time to get hired. Now, with shit the way it is, it’s more competitive than ever for less positions than ever. They are still out there though and I might not have as much of an edge as I used to have (EMT cert, current FD status) but I want it more than I ever have and am in better shape than I ever have been in so I’m champin’ at the bit to get this in the bag. I think I’m going to re-test for all the Seattle metro departments when I get back (Shoreline, Renton, Bellevue, etc) and study my brains out for those writtens so I can be on the top of the list. The thought of another summer at the Jock kills me but it is what it is I suppose. If fire isn’t in my future than I’ll look at teaching or nursing or woodworking I think. But, I hope to god it’s fire. There’s no adrenaline in any of those other fields, even though I’m sure they are satisfying in their own way. But, I remember when I knew I was going to be a firefighter. I was a camper at Camp Blaze and they’d lit up Cars on the Curb (a prop of three cars on a slight grade). I was on the nozzle and the instructor popped the hood on one of the cars and you really have to shove the nozzle in there and move pretty quick to catch all the fire coming at you. There was this thin shield of water and then this loud rippin’ fire right behind it and time was slow and fast at the same time and all you’re thinking is where it’s moving next and stopping it and slowing it down and working it up the hill and that’s when I knew I was going to be a firefighter. I hate this economy like the devil but I hope I can get ‘er done in the next year because I’ll work my ass off for whoever hires me. I will drill and study and stop playing rugby if it happens. Now, I’m going outside.

May 18th.

2009-05-24T21:32:00.000-07:00

We drove through some of Connecticut today looking at places important to my family. We saw the house where my dad and uncle grew up, the school they attended, the church my uncle was married at. We saw Paul Newman’s house, somebody Dow’s rolling estate (of the Dow Jones Industrial Average) and the president of Duracell’s super humble abode. Connecticut feels pretty much like Fall City. It’s way green out here right now, like more green than Seattle. More green than Forks! Just kidding, I haven’t been to Forks yet this year. I haven’t gotten bitten by the Twilight bug (get it? bitten? don’t be intimidated by my puns, please). But, Connecticut is very lush, like Western Washington, except the woods are more clear and have broken rock walls strewn about them. Paula said it best when she said it was very Blair Witch. Guess who will not be wandering these woods at night? That movie scared the shit out of me. I am the only person I know who was terrified and not at all motion sick. But, I am also super gullible and didn’t know it was fake. Yeah, I know, wow. It happens. Also, my attention span is about half an inch long right now so I am all over the place with this writing. That also happens, and I apologize to all my readers out there. The point I originally sat down to write about was my thoughts about rural versus suburban towns. I’ve always been unclear where to draw the line. Like, is it by tooth count? Subscriptions to the Wall Street Journal? Instant or whole bean coffee? Crack versus coke? I mean, I suppose that’s just economical stuff (plus a whole lot of stereotypes) but I know some pretty poor suburbs that love instant coffee and crack. But, as we were driving through all these trees, with these mansion tucked behind fences it didn’t seem super suburban. It definitely had a rural feel, like Dabob I’d say. But there is no economy here, none that I can see any way. And I get that this is no epiphany for the rest of the world but the suburban/rural divide has to be based upon local economy. Is there one? If people live and work in the same town than it’s rural. If they live one place and work another than it’s likely they live in a suburb. I know this isn’t a perfect litmus test but I think it makes sense for a lot of places. Loggers, farmers, fisherman live in remote places but they are able to work in those places because that’s their livelihood. Obviously people work in suburbs (someone needs to bag your groceries and steam that latte milk) but there isn’t an economic engine outside of service jobs. A rural community would likely have something outside of the service industry to supply jobs or… it’s a washed up town like so many rural communities. People still live there, sort of, but it might be welfare, crime or scrappiness that gets them by (or some combination thereof). So many fishing towns on the Washington coast have gone this way, same with the logging communities and small farming towns. Anyway, I am sort of full of shit right now and I think a lot of this is borderline lies but I was surprised today by how obvious it is that rural just means people are trying to make it work where they are whereas suburban means you don’t expect home and work to be the same, or maybe you don’t want them to. This is the sort of stuff I think about in the back of a seven-person van driving down two-lane Connecticut highways. It’s super action-packed, I know it is. But, I tried to think about gentrification and that always makes my head spin so I couldn’t go there today. This had to do.

The Big Apple

2009-05-17T20:21:00.000-07:00

New York, you're out of control. You like to divide yourself into "boroughs" instead of using the term "neighborhoods" that the rest of the country likes to use (excuuuse us!). Sometimes you instantly smell like old underwear and hot Honey Buckets, no warning, no time to prepare, and it pretty much feels like eating trash. I have to say, I don't understand how Central Park has such huge craggy rocks in it when the rest of the city is as flat as my dad's feet. I mean, I suppose you just loved you some dynomite back in the day. I get that. You were wild and crazy in your youth, probably a little too reckless and you blasted the shit out of Manhattan. I appreciated that today. Hills would have made our travels cumbersome. I also apprecite how obsessed you are with pizza. I mean, I assumed it would be a big deal here but I didn't know that every pizza shop was "the most famous pizza in New York." That's awesome! Quite the acheivement, even if I don't fully comprehend how it's possible. The slice I had was definitely extremely delicious. Also, I was drunk. On that note, I do not like paying $5 of $6 for a bottle of Coors Light. If there were six of them nestled in a cardboard holder for that price I totally get it. But, one bottle? That's rough. Tell the Blue Donkey to keep it real with those $2 High Lifes. They made that pizza the cheesy magic carpet it was destined to be. And I can't blame you for not having a vegan option. But, it made it especially special when my sister wandered the streets looking for something dairy-free and delicious while I chewed my pizza cud and hoped for a bathroom. Oh, and it was absolutely pouring. What was that all about? Like cats and dogs. Long-haired feral pregnant cats and dogs sort of downpour. And I heard it was 75 in Seattle. Neat. Way to pull the ol' switcheroo when the Northwesterns stumble into town. But I like that about you New York, you're not super cuddly. I mean, there was no misting, no sprinking, no regular ol' raining. You brought the heavens crashing down on the sidewalks and I think that shows a lot of spunk, maybe a bit rude but I've heard rumors that you can be touchy, even aggressively anti-social. Whatevs, Seattle is straight up passive-aggressive so I can respect your directness, even if it increases creeper interactions and almost gets me drilled in crosswalk after crosswalk. Luckily we got to avoid the crosswalks today since it was Street Fair Sunday. I think you could have toned it down a little with the Egyptian sheet hawking (but $10 is such a steal!) but I liked the cheerleaders and Scottish dancers. And it was sweet of you to remember how much it makes me blush to be called "sir" in H&M. That was four years ago that I was there last but you made sure to make it happen again! You even threw in a bathroom challenge in Old Navy to spice things up a little bit. You really shouldn't have.

I have to say, I wasn't sure what you'd be like down at Ground Zero. I sort of expected nothing, maybe a vortex or wormhole or something. But, you look like you're trying to pull yourself back together. Eight years later and it's a hole with cranes and rebar and earth moving equipment. You definitely did not seem yourself there, like way more quiet than usual. I guess it's weird to expect you to be any different. I just didn't expect you to still look so rough around the edges but at the same time I didn't expect you to have done anything to try and move on.

On a less sad note, thanks for sending Tracy Morgan out to say hey. I think he got confused about who he was supposed to be waving to because he seemed to be looking at the people just to our right but, don't worry, we still fumbled for our camera phones and took a picture of him hugging that stranger anyway. We got the gesture and that's what matters, NYC. And right when we thought we were in your good graces you had to put an invisibility cloak on that damn vegan chicken burger restaurant that we tried to sniff out for a solid hour. I did learn a lot by walking back and forth in front of St. Vincent's like we were looking for a magic portal (and I really hope that lady who went in with the dish rag on her hand has all ten digits still attached, she looked nice) and I hope you weren't offended that we finally had to walk back on the other side of the street just to spice things up and keep from wearing down that patch of pavement. When we finally found those chicken burgers they were as amazing as we'd hoped for, even if you doubled the price from lunch to dinner. I was able to forgive your slight of hand when we stumbled onto The Slaughtered Lamb. After texting my friends who I placed utmost faith in having seen An American Werewolf in London, and then being told nope sorry by all, I felt an even stronger bond to you, New York City, when you placed before me the very pub from the foggy Scottish moors?? Amazing! Seriously. So what if me and sixteen other people are the only ones who relish in a werewolf-themed bar. I thought it was fantastic and enjoyed my pint of Sam Adams thoroughly. And nice touch with the fire. It made the grey worth it.

2009-05-13T22:26:00.000-07:00

spring rain when it's almost humid out
thinking about summer before it gets here
tired dogs
a picture that turns out exactly like the moment it was taken in
AC/DC and Lynyrd Skynyrd with the windows down
crossing rivers on logs
sitting on the top of a hill or mountain, either is good
doing something you've put off forever and realizing it wasn't that bad. or that it was that bad but now it's over.
washing cars
writing list

trying for real this time

2009-05-06T21:54:00.000-07:00

Blogging is simply a weird phenomenon. I think I can do it because I'm pretty sure no one reads this. So I have some imaginary motivation to write but no consequences since it's just out there in the forest of cyberspace just being my words in a backdrop of absolutely nothing. But, I've had the writing itch lately. Maybe because I took a couple knocks to the head so it feels like there is less room in there for thoughts and brains and words and more smeared and wasted brain tissue. Seriously, I've never had a concussion but I'm pretty sure this was one. I didn't notice it until I sobered up, probably 24-48 after the guilty impact. And life has been a bit more of a struggle since then, getting slowly better though.

Anyway, the point is that I feel like I am sort of drowning in my own thoughts lately. It's not stuff I necessarily want to blog about. I really think a lot of it is my damn headache and neck tension since this weekend. But, I feel like a crazy person when I step back and look at my life from outside of it all. Like, I am sleeping in a piece of shit old bed, poorly. I wake up a ton at night, sometimes from carpal tunnel, sometimes it might be the streetlights, other times I'm not sure why. And I have two big ass dogs sleeping five feet away on a couch I grew up on, which is steadily turning into the nastiest courdoroyed dirtbag that's ever existed. But, they sleep so damn well on it I can't kick them off of it, and it's probably bound for the dump soon anyway. My belongings are mostly strewn around my room or the attic, which I'm terrified to venture into because it's just everything I've ever owned ever, knee deep. I'm such a damn pack rat because I'm constantly moving and never really settled, even when I think I am. And all the junk from my past is procrastinated on and then just thrown back into boxes and dumped into whatever place is my next home. And I keep waking up in this mess but seem unable to take the time to clean it up. And of course I'm speaking both to reality and whatever metaphorical stupidness I can put it on. My life was so damn scripted. It was all ready for me, every square inch of it. And now, when I am driving and thinking, I pull back from it all and see it as it is. I'm 25 and that's it. There's nothing else. The geography is the same, that's it. All the details are dust and it's weird to feel it in my fingers. For the most part I'm still after the same things. There's still that farm, eventually. There's still the family I wish I saw more. There's still fire, if that ever happens. But, I feel so disconnected from where I've been. I know I'm shutting a lot of this out and just letting life sort of wash over me right now. I know I could be feeling a lot more if I had the inclination to do so. But, it's okay where it's at. I spend my days driving around in my truck, playing fetch with the dogs, writing workouts, doing workouts, going to rugby practice, drinking beer, sometimes I see family, often I see friends. And I think that's enough right now. I have high hopes for this summer. I don't know why it matters so much to me but it does. At least the hope in it all.

branches smooth from being climbed hundreds of times
driving with the windows down

2009-05-06T21:32:00.000-07:00

Baseball games.
My dog.
Hiking to a lake.
Fishing.
Rowboats.
Changing my own oil.
How crazy the sun is after a storm.
Running, sometimes.
Having no voicemails.
A good old hat.
Jeans that fit.
Maggotfest. And the fact it only comes but once a year.
Old second-hand stores.
Getting really into a book.
Sweating like crazy during a workout.
Being done with said workout.
The first beer after a rugby match.
Southern fiction.
Swamp pop.
Baking.

2009-05-05T12:09:00.000-07:00

Hard rain.
Turning any sport into full-contact.
Eggs over medium and toast.
Pancakes from scratch.
Lilacs blooming in May.
The smell of a sweatshirt worn at a bonfire.
Being hydrated.

Stuff that is good.

2009-05-04T23:03:00.000-07:00

Buddies.
That first day all the Dandelions open.
Wind storms.
The smell of fresh rain after it's been dry for a while.
Cold beer on a Friday night.
Eastern Washington fruit stands.
The radio.
A solid tackle.
Fresh ground coffee in the morning.
Fetch.
Blackberry cobbler and vanilla ice cream.
Rhodies blooming in the mountains.
Fast spring rivers and lazy summer rivers, one for watching, one for floating.
Clear nights.
Hammocks.
Fires.
Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with Tim's potato chips inside.
Riding bareback.
A rack of hand-washed dishes.
Getting up early.
A full night of sleep.
Eggs in the nesting boxes.
Chicken therapy.
Horse breath.

2009-04-11T11:48:00.000-07:00

I haven't really been doing good at this whole blog thing. I mean, it's a little weird to write about yourself on the internet. Right? But, it's also pretty fun so, why not.

The past couple months have been different. Molly and I are trying to figure out how to be buddies and that has its ups and downs for sure. But, she is pretty much the most fantastic person ever and someone I'd do anything for (except not trying to pick fights when I am lit) so we both have faith that we'll sort all this out and be stronger friends because of it. That's all I really feel like saying about that. But, that's the big thing. Outside of that, I think I found Mads a really good home. She's in a barn in Duvall being ridden by a super capable girl who's looking to show her this summer. She hasn't paid for her yet but I'm selling her pretty much for a song so I hope it all works out. What else... I am still coaching at the U. The team is looking good this year. Super coachable and from a wide variety of sports backgrounds. It's awesome to have athletes rather than teaching people to be athletes. I like both, but getting a chance to start from level two, rather than level one, is neat and a good change of pace. As for fire, no word yet from Seattle or Tacoma. I'm at the interview stage for both but neither have a definitely timeline for an academy so it could be a loss on both counts. I missed the application for Bates, which is super lame. And I have heard nothing from National Testing or Public Safety so those were both a waste of time and money I think. It's pretty awesome trying to become a firefighter during a big fat recession. It would be an uphill battle in the best of times but now it's just ridiculous since there are no funds for new firefighters and the old ones are not retiring since their retirement funds are probably jacked at this point. It makes me want to play rugby since it seems like I won't be able to get a job in the near future. I don't want to piss away my rugby-playing years waiting for something that may or may not be a possibility. Coaching and crossfit are okay substitutes in the meantime but it really doesn't get the point across like tackling and rucking. And my shoulder in in fine shape right now. I think I could probably get in some great hits on my left shoulder and be A OK. I'm tempted to play at Maggotfest but Deb had a good point in saying that it's not good rugby and not worth getting hurt for bad rugby. But, right now any rugby sounds like good rugby.

That's all I have right now. I jammed my finger yesterday playing around. I definitely drank too much at the rugby house while playing beer pong. Someone barfed in the basement, which is disgusting. And, what's even more disgusting is that Molly fell in it while diving for a ball. Sick.

2009-01-27T08:34:00.000-08:00

So, I've been working out at a Crossfit gym for the past five months. I've definitely drank the Cool-Aid, in fact, I'm pretty much swimming in it right now. I went in for small group personal training when my physical test for Tacoma Fire was looming on the very near horizon. I was super nervous and went into Crossfit and had Jake, the owner, hand my ass to me for nine sessions before the test. I probably increased my strength a little bit. But, more than that, I was pushed to my mental limits almost every day. I can remember clearly one workout that I was convinced I wouldn't finish. He had Maria (my training partner and fellow TFD applicant) go 200 meters around the block with two kettlebells. I think mine were 16 kilos (about 75lbs total). On each corner we had to do 10 or 12 thrusters (squat to a push press) and then 20 steps of walking lunge with the kettlebells. The trick was that we could never set the kettlebells on the ground. We had to hold them the entire time. One of my co-workers and friends passed me on the street with her boyfriend. I was dripping sweat, red in the face, carrying these balls of iron (or whatever they are) and Jake is standing there without his shirt on, egging me on. That was pretty awesome. Long short is I barely finished that workout but it was in the front of my mind when I stepped on the physical abilities course down in Tacoma. I knew there was no way that something with a maximum time of 7.5 minutes could be worse than the shit Jake had us doing. And it wasn't. It turned into a game, another Crossfit workout and I had a time to beat. My confidence was huge and I was stoked at the end to hear I'd finished over a minute under the max time (and beaten my previous run-through by over a minute as well). Since then, I've been going to the gym on average 3-5 days a week. I've gotten much stronger and am constantly learning new things, new ways to punish myself. But, it rarely lasts more than half an hour. Recently, I decided to give the nutrition aspect of the gym a go. That's something I'm more skeptical about. As a vegetarian (or pescetarian, if that's the right word), eating a paleolithic diet was challenging. Pretty much just meat, vegetables, some fruit, nuts and seeds. I've reached a happy equilibrium now substituting tofu, tempeh, beans and lentils for the protein I'm missing out on in meat. It's not 'by the book' but it works for me. I just had a breakfast that pushed the envelope a little bit, muffins made out of ground of almonds, unsweetened coconut flakes, eggs and honey as a sweetener. Super delicious (dripping with butter they'd be even better). Cooking and baking is something way too near and dear to my heart for me to sacrifice that tradition for a little bit of weight loss or an increase in athletic performance. But, if I can have my paleo coconut muffin and eat it too, I'll be happy with that. The point of this whole post is that I haven't really written anything about Crossfit but it's been a growing part of my life over the past few months. It's a daily chance to make myself want to die, compete against myself and maybe others, sweat like I'm in a sauna, and then get back to whatever I was doing before I walked into the gym. It's a daily intermission that is everything a workout should be. It's the first time in my life I've followed a workout consistently. I grew up with access to a whole lot of outdoor work that needed to be done. Now, living in the city and working indoors, Crossfit has given me a chance to exhaust myself daily. I might be deadlifting instead of moving bales of hay or doing kettlebell swings instead of weilding a pitchfork. But, the end result and the soaked shirt are all the same. And, now that I've put my rugby career on hold in the hopes of staying healthy for a career in the fire service, it's a new community and a new way to beat myself up. I miss rugby often but I'm glad I have another outlet. Last thing, I was working out in a traditional gym before joining Crossfit. I had a nasty case of tennis elbow and some kickin' carpal tunnel. I still wake up to a dead right arm pretty regularly but it doesn't wake me up the way it used to. And my tennis elbow is history. I'm almost exactly one year out of shoulder surgery and I did a workout last week that involved 100 pull-ups. I couldn't even do that before I had my shoulder repaired. Like I said, I've got the Crossfit Cool-Aid on IV drip.

It's still cold out hur.

2009-01-26T22:28:00.000-08:00

There's a serious change in this land. It is damn cold this winter. It seems like it's been raining less, raining harder when it actually does rain, and snowing or being clear and cold way more than normal. I remember straight-up rain from November through April when I was a kid. Snow was a rarity, and it always turned into slush within a couple hours, if it didn't come out of the sky that way. It's clear and cold out there. During the snow storm in December, we forgot to collect eggs one night and it froze in the shell, bursting out seams in a frosty eggcicle treat. Suzy ate it. Although, it is nice not having to wade through water to get to the street. And, Suzy can't rip up the yard when it's frozen.

Yes We Did.

2009-01-21T09:16:00.000-08:00

He said it best.

Yesterday Newman, Gail, Ty, Chet and I crowded under the store television to watch Barack Obama replace George Bush as the 44th president of the United States. We all heard there would be crowds, possibly millions, to watch his speech. Somehow, it still seemed fake, penciled-in (or whatever the fancy digital equivalent would be) to see that stretch of humans, all there for one person, all facing the same direction, all accepting the cold and crowd in order to be a part of his inauguration. Because of that it felt like our inauguration, as if we all stepped up to the podium and acknowledged our own responsibility in pulling each other, every other different American, out of this sludge of a mess we're in, financially, morally, diplomatically. Thinking forward and imagining his voice coming over the radio, week after week, for the next four years, is reassuring in itself. He is thoughtful, well-spoken, fair, and pragmatic. And, he's now our president. He inspires us to look forward, to accept what has happened in eight years for what it is, but to focus on the solutions, on real and sustainable solutions. Can we actually move past partisan politics in exchange for more results? It almost seems possible today.

I did drink too much whisky last night in celebration. I didn't intend to, but it certaintly happened. But, being in the house and watch President Obama dance with our new First Lady, with all our damn creatures, and Molly, and good friends, was a fuzzy perfect. It was. And, now, in this new world, and I really do believe it's a new world today, I want to hang an American flag from our porch and go to city council meetings and read the news and get back to being a citizen, something that is once again valued and appreciated, no matter what small town or big city you belong to. We've been given not only hope but agency and vision. We've been spoken to as capable adults rather than scared children. We were respecfully told the hard truth rather than padded falsehoods. And, we're still listening.

Thank you, America! Yes we can. Yes we did. And yes we will. I am so proud of this country today, so proud to be an American. We've gotten our country back and we have it more than we ever have.

2008-12-09T10:14:00.000-08:00

I'll tell ya what. I don't have a bunch of time to write this. I'm supposed to be traveling to my mom's in a calm and collected fashion rather than procrastinating and then rushing off. But, I had a few thoughts and have been terrible at blogging lately so I'm going to roll with it.

I love that Buster likes to be inside in the winter. He sleeps on the back of the armchair in our bedroom. Lily often gets up there with him. But, mostly that's his spot, surrounded by windows and getting hair all over our stuff.

The chickens are doing well. We got three eggs yesterday, one each from Maggie, Foxy and Shorty. Shorty's was pretty silly, tiny and sandpapery, but it has a shell and that's a big step forward for her. We also have two new hens (surprise!), Bantam Buff Orpingtons. We named them Virginia and Carolina, in honor of two red states that went blue for Obama. How Seattle are we? Naming our backyard chickens after Obama states. Absurd. But, you can't stop the beat.

We rearranged our living room again, something we like to do about once every other week just to keep it exciting here. Sometimes watching the cat play with foil gets old so we have to amuse ourselves in new and exciting ways. But, I think this living room arrangement is here to stay. We also have our tree, which needs lights, decorations and probably water. And, speaking of trees, we have about two or three of them all chopped up, scattered in logs on and around our porch. Once we got rid of all the bikes on our porch we had to get a doghouse up there to keep the redneck faith. Then we sold the doghouse and put a cage of chickens out there for a couple months. Then we got the chickens new homes and weren't sure what to do with a vacant, clean porch. So, we filled it with cedar rounds. It's back to how it belongs, cluttered and country.

That's all. I really need to go now. Foxy is still running around the yard so I hope I can catch her in less than five minutes so I don't miss this boat.

It's been a while.

2008-12-06T12:53:00.000-08:00

I've done a bad job at writing lately. I'm not sure why. Maybe because since breaking my no-list streak I've been spending more time on to-do lists than this stuff. Or maybe because we've been busy hunting for free firewood, chopping and moving said firewood, getting more chickens, working, thinking up rugby workouts, eating ice cream, drinking beer, playing fetch with the dogs, watching way too much 24, finally seeing more of our friends, puttering in the yard but not actually getting anything done, seeing my family, seeing Molly's family, cleaning out e-mails, messing up the house, building fires, making dinner, talking to old friends, reading, spraying the cat with vinegar and water. That sort of stuff. But, in doing it all, the season seems like it's flying by. Maybe after we charge the camera I can do a picture update of where we are with everything, what we've been up to for the past month. We'll see. For now, it's been enough that we have some balmy wet days and crisp sunny days. We've been lucky for the past couple weeks. And it's the holidays. Lake City is full of lights and woodsmoke and wreaths and always the lights and sirens. Charlie is getting less shy about howling in front of us now. An engine passed us on our walk to the field and he cried along with it, on his leash, on the street. It's that sort of winter.

Farewell Norman?

2008-11-17T23:14:00.000-08:00

Looks like the rooster(s??) is getting a new home. He crowed at 4:50am on Friday. And the alarm clock was consistently at 6:30 on Sunday and this morning. But, he's a lady's man, sharing his treasures he finds in the leaves. He calls them over and drops whatever delicious bug or piece of dirt he's pecked out of the earth. If they don't eat it, he'll pick it up and drop it again, like, take the hint bitches. He has a sexy dance where he drops a wing and skitters like he's having a stroke. Sometimes, Shorty will let him have sex with her after that straight up wooing. And, no small potatoes, he cost us an f-ing pretty penny with three vet visits with that dang cold when we first got him. There's a family in Des Moines that seems to want him, and Sean too. We'd like to give them away together since they came together and are buddies. Although, Norman has hit it off much better with the ladies. Shorty even laid her first egg after Norman laid her. Gross. Poor Sean is like It's Pat. We have no idea if he's a boy or a girl (although I lean toward boy so I'll take that pronoun). We'll never find out I guess, since it looks like those folks will come get them. Sad times. I like getting animals, but not giving them.

Done and Done!

2008-11-06T08:49:00.000-08:00

Hey America, buddies, remember when we woke up yesterday, and today, and Barack Obama is still the next president of the United States? Remember when it happened so quickly and so decisively and without any dirty tricks? No caches of hidden Republicans were discovered. No red-alert terrorist warnings to keep people from getting out the vote. No hanging chads or touch screens that automatically move a blue vote to a red one. No Supreme Court or electoral wins and popular vote losses. By 8:01, west coast time, we had a new president. And, he's our president. He's thoughtful, charismatic, well-spoken, fair, and consistent. So, pretty much the opposite of the last eight years. The wars and recession seem less daunting, less terrifying when you know the man at the helm has a steady hand, and an even steadier mind. Sure, there's still that damn urban/rural split. There's just so much religion in the country. And, the Republicans did a very good job connecting rural Christians to that damn 'family values' campaign that revolves around abortion. It's a very generational thing but if anyone can shake that alliance I think it's Obama. Hopefully we can start seeing a shift in the debates from the same head-butting issues to a focus on solutions not to the problems we argue about, but solutions to their root causes. If there was better sex education and programs to pull people out of poverty, there would probably be less abortions. But, that's not at all my point right now, I'm getting sidetracked. What I want to say is that the awesomeness of the Obama election is that is FINALLY shifts Americanness to the rest of us. The American story has centrally revolved around that cowboy image. It's a very rugged, hero sort of tale, full of bootstraps and guns and manliness and God and white people and apple pie and farms and money (lots of money). Now, don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with any of those things. There's nothing wrong when all of those things are embodied in one person. UNLESS it's at the exclusion of the rest of us. And it has been. Being American hasn't meant being black or Latino or Asian or Native American or gay or young or poor, unless you have a fantastic story to tell that ties you into the rich white dudes at the top. If you were a war hero or you made yourself rich or you go to an Ivy League college from an inner city high school, that's when you're on the radar. But not anymore. Now the story about the rest of us isn't focused on a violent crime rate or our sexual immorality or the sturdiness of the glass ceiling or our godlessness. Now there's hope, there's symbolism and there is undeniable momentum to put front and center those millions of Americans who have been the backdrop of a powerful minory. We live in a mixed race and mixed income and mixed age neighborhood. Obama signs are everywhere. Everywhere everywhere. This area of one of the most diverse parts of Seattle, I think. And the consensus here is incredible. And, that consensus was nationwide. We all did this with our eagerness and enthusiasm and, for many, hours and hours and hours of volunteering or dollars and dollars donated. Putting this all into words is a sloppy experience but you all know what I'm talking about. You all watched McCain's eloquent concession speech and Obama's perfectly-put acceptance speech. You watched it, you were in the streets, or screaming in your apartment, or tearing up (you know you were). And, as Americans, our hearts all felt proud (maybe for the first time in a long time!) and eager and f-ing full of love at the same time. And, I've never felt more American or more excited to be a part of this great country.

(Um, and P.S., I've always done an eeny meeny miney moe to figure out if I should buy the PI or the Times. The Times endorsed slimeball Dino Rossi so that will never be a dillemma in my life again. Ever.)

Nervous Excitement!

2008-11-04T17:20:00.001-08:00

I'm sitting at home, with NPR on the radio way too loud, eating Reece's ice cream straight from the carton, skipping my workout class, and tapping my foot like I'm trying to drill through the floor. The news is all good so far! (Knock on wood). I just got back from taking a fire test, went okay, but I'm not even thinking about that right now as the polls start to close on the East Coast. Charlie's panting like an idiot, maybe he's pulling for McCain. I'd be panting too if I were a Re-pub. Also, it smells like poop in here and I'm wondering which of the four creatures is guilty. There's a big fat cloud squatting over North Seattle. It's poured, hailed, sprinkled and lightninged (?). Maybe that's why the animals are going nuts. Or maybe they're reading my psycho vibes of nervousness and happiness over the early election results.

November is good.

2008-11-02T07:20:00.000-08:00

So, I stopped my pilgrimage to not write lists for a year. I spent a couple weeks being grumpy and frazzled and realized that not writing my clutter down hasn't changed the way my crazy mind ticks. I made a rule for myself, no rules! Just kidding. But, that's exactly the kind of shit I do and take seriously in moments of lapsed sanity.

Lily is crying at the door non-stop. Norman is doing his roosterly-duty and crowing this shit out of 7am. I slept on the couch because I was coughing and snotty. I woke up before it was light out, laying on my back, with the cat sleeping on my neck. I panicked and chucked her off. Bitch. I've had enough of the animals this morning.

Yesterday was pure glory and goodness. UW beat Reed 25-0. They didn't play a whole lot of defense but really stepped up their offense. It put me on a cloud the rest of the day. Except when I was driving through Southwestern Washington.

I want to punch Lily in the face. She really doesn't stop until she gets her way. Last night she broke a vase in the guest room when she accidentally got locked in there. She pushed a photo off the entertainment center this morning. I've been soaking her with spray bottle of water and vinegar but she's learned it's range and knows I'm too lazy to get up to get the spray to reach her.

I loved rugby yesterday. I felt pretty damn happy all day. Until I was at the Breakers Halloween party at night and started feeling tired and sick and grumpy and that's when I called it a day. I do miss my friends and look forward to seeing more of them soon.

These Troubled Times

2008-10-28T11:40:00.000-07:00

When McCain chides Obama for promoting "class warfare" he's essentially telling us middle class folks that we have no right to be resentful and angry at the super rich who've painted our economy into a dark dark corner. Apparently, taxing people who make plenty of money or expecting companies to offer health insurance to their employees is class warfare. But, it's not class warfare to lay off tens of thousands of people when companies are making record profits simply to increase shareholder margins? It's not class warfare to pay working people a living wage? It's not class warfare to drop people from health insurance once they have serious diseases when those people cannot afford out-of-pocket medical bills? It's not class warfare to send our manufacturing jobs overseas and leave ghost towns in their place? It's not class warfare for oil companies to make record profits when people can't afford to drive or heat their homes? It's not class warfare to use our tax dollars, that we actually pay, to bail out billionaires who've been doin' it up for the past 5-10-20 years on our dime? I used to have great respect for John McCain. And, even though I'm sick of hearing about it like it's the only qualification for the White House, I still have great respect for his military service and sacrifice. But, his politics have turned dirty and straight-up wrong, in my mind. He pretends to be out there for all these "Joes", six-pack, plumber and otherwise. But, what the hell? It's been a freaking all you can eat buffet for rich people for way too long. And, now the Republicans are crying socialism when it comes time to look after the little guy for once. People should have the right to a roof over their head, a wage or salary they can support their family on if they're working full-time, a right to health care that doesn't drop 'em like they're hot when they actually need it, a right to time spent with their family and time away from work. In return, we should give something back to our community, be it through military service, community service, churches, etc... But, even prisoners have the right to shelter, food, health care and free time. I'm so sick of this garbage the Republicans are spouting. I try hard to see the humanity behind each person's platform but it's getting harder and harder to not see horns sprouting out of some of their d-bags heads when they talk about the power of the free market. P.S. it's not a free market when these companies have been getting tax cuts that don't apply to the rest of us and government subsidies left and right. And it's definitely not a free market when it's getting paid $700 BILLION DOLLARS to simply stay afloat. It makes me want to puke that we're paying these assholes for all these ridiculous choices they've been profiting on for years now. I understand the necessity but you can only let a market go unregulated when the public sphere is not affected when that risk comes a-knockin'. If the private market is intertwined with the public sphere than it's within the governments jurisdiction to give it some boundaries. And, the first regulation that should pop up is the immediate firing and public stoning of each CEO of whatever these hedge fund/mortgage lenders/whatever other voodoo. Or, we could forgo the stoning (not the firing) if they agree to donate their personal profits to paying back that 700Bil.

One last thing, when everyone sings the praises of the free market, let them just remember this... when your car is jacked or your house is broken into, it's a public servent that comes to your aid. And that's paid for from taxes, for everyone, equally. When your house catches on fire and someone shows up to put it out, that person is a public servant and is paid for with our tax dollars. When you check a book out at a library, or get your first driver's license, or show up to vote for president, or have a day in court, or have the right to spend an afternoon in a public park, these are your tax dollars at work. These people are paid to serve the public. Privatize any of it and these sectors can all follow this same tailspin as the housing market or Wall Street. The military is already massively more privatized than it was eight years ago and that's a terrifying concept.

I am so proud to vote for Barak Obama on Tuesday. And, I'm glad he's on our side in this Class War because, it definitely exists, and has existed for a long time. Now it's starting to go both ways.

2008-10-17T22:43:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling a little squirrely tonight. Like, ancy. And, guilty. I have no specific reason for this feeling, but it's damn persistent all the same. Molly says the changing seasons make me anxious, like I'm an arthritic joint that flares up when those October rain clouds come tumbling in. I don't know about that. I think it's the pace of it all. August through December is my favorite time of the year. I know that's almost half the year so so what if I'm greedy? But, I love the hot, rainless time of August (except this year) and the dusty wilt that settles in your skin by the end of the month. The few rainstorms are bold and make the pavement smell like a proposal. Then it rolls into September and the leaves tilt toward amber and rattle in their husks when those ocean winds peel off the tides. The salmon start running, haggard and lonley, jolting and waiting and jerking towards their homes. October is cornstalks and pumpkins and walking through too many spider webs, always doing that body-slapping dance in case the owner was home when you intruded. It's candles and candy and pumpkin-flavored everything. It's 6:00 darkness and mud puddles and leaf piles and grey. But the grey is new and it still smells like clean wet pavement.

In all this, I probably lose myself. I become the possibility of what could be. The possibility of being able to craft the perfect autumn. It would be a fall of pumpkin beer, soups that I actually wanted as leftover, pubs, fresh straw in stalls, chicken eggs (damn lazy hens), dry leaf piles raked after a long day of indoor work, apple pie, pot pie, pumpkin pie, family dinners, ferry boat rides where I actually go up top, fleece jackets and wool hats, long phone calls when rain hammers the window, rubber boots to wade through the front yard, clean gutters, a wood stove. And, the weird thing is that this is what fall is. It happens all around me and I can't always see that it's here.

Part way through October

2008-10-15T08:45:00.000-07:00

6 acres in Olalla

6 acres in Port Townsend

10 acres in Gig Harbor

Just some thoughts...

Cleaned up the living room, not hard to do since Molly and I have been cleaning it since Sunday. The dogs were pretty fearful the whole time, cringing and cowering from the broom. When I put their beds in the wash, it was all over. I was surely coming to kill them next. Suzy is curled at my feet under the dining room table now. And, Charlie is sheepishly laying in the hallway, eating one piece of dog food at a time, and looking at me with wide eyes in between each one. What can I say? I'm the devil.

Transferred our savings to my checking account because I found a cool wood stove on Craigslist that we could probably afford. It's a red Vermont Castings. These damn stoves are so expensive to install though. The stove piping is ridiculous. We'll see though...

Looks like we'll be able to build the raised bed off the front of the house with the landscaping timbers my dad had intended for the patio edging. I just need to borrow the chop saw from Al and get a larger drill bit, a bit extender and some pieces of rebar to secure the timbers. Should be pretty easy to build though. Or so it seems.

October Sunday

2008-10-12T15:34:00.001-07:00

First off, I can't believe it's already mid-October.

The Beantown/Berkeley match this morning was awesome. Great women's rugby. It definitely made me want to play again, even if egos are a touch much at that level of play. It would be great to be able to become a firefighter within the year so I might be able to play rugby again in a couple years.

After the match we went to the Marymoor dog park. Always good times. It was a beautiful day and a nice 30 minute walk with the dogs, amongst their own kind.

I got in a small fender bender while inspecting my bare feet and waiting for a crosswalk to clear. It wasn't my fault. I was stopped and got crunched into from a car behind me. It was Molly's car so I took the gal's name and number but there didn't appear to be any meaningful damage. I hate when people expect their cars to stay pristine and would repair a tiny scratch on the bumper at the expense of the other person's insurance premiums. I think frivolous lawsuits and going after people's insurance is lame. So, it was nice to have a positive interaction at an insignificant auto accident (not even, really). I liked that.

And I got a Top Pot donut and cup of coffee right afterwards. That's where I was heading anyways. Delicious.

I was pretty productive today. The house has made me feel insane all week so today was the day it had to end. I've slept the last two nights on the couch because the bedroom is such a pig sty it makes me feel crazy to be in there. I know that sounds like a nutso reaction but I don't like feeling grit in the bed and when our house even gets a little dirty it's easy for some of that animal dirt to make it into the bed. Add a few loads of unfolded laundry, some backpacks, and a scattering of papers, plus a nasty dog bed or two, and you've got a recipe for insomnia and anxiety. So, the couch it was. But, today I washed the laundry, cleaned the kitchen, cleaned the bathroom, made the guest bed from Landyn's sleepover, took out the trash, cleaned the living room, consoloidated the house clutter in the guest room to deal with later, and started inspecting and cleaning the gutters. That will be a project because they are pretty tore up and I found one with a totally clogged downspout that had bug eggs in it. I couldn't finish because I had to go to a work meeting at 5:30.

We still have a lot of work to do to winterize the house: cleaning and repairing gutters, installing a wood stove, weatherstripping, and closing the attic off. Those are all time-consuming and/or expensive projects so it'll be baby steps. But, we'll see how far we can go with it all. With my dad out here, him and Molly got a lot done on the foundation for the patio. The pavers are sitting in the driveway but they probably won't go in for another week or two. Then we still need to bump the fence up about 15' and build stairs off the back of the porch.

Today I drank a lot of coffee and ate a bagel, an egg, pizza, a donut, and a lot of ice cream. Awesome. I think a big pitfall in this country is our fear of food. We have so many nutrition programs and detailed ways to eat food. But, there is not as much emphasis on enjoying food or preparing food or understanding where it comes from. I've loved cooking since I was a kid and it's an important part of my life. The most busy I get, the less time I spend in the kitchen, and the grumpier I get. For my mom's birthday I decided I was going to make her a cookbook of the recipes she made for us when we were growing up. I'd like to learn how to cook more with the stuff that's plentiful in this area. We have a ton of great food in the northwest (salmon, huckleberries, Dungeness crab, apples, pears, wild mushrooms, sweet Walla Walla onions, blackberries) and I look forward to eating it. But, before I get into a big cooking spree I think we need to clean out our pantry, fridge and freezer. Last time we did this we just ate what was in the house for a week. I think we ended up with scurvy but we sure did clear up space for more food. Time for that same thing, but with the okay to get fresh fruits and veggies this time.

2008-10-12T15:30:00.000-07:00

So, I'm sure I'm way late on this bandwagon but this is pretty awesome.

another wonderful day that I'm not at work.

2008-10-07T09:03:00.000-07:00

Apparently there is a group that's promoting a garden on the White House lawn, for the next administration of course, GW has his hands full winning in Iraq, losing in Afghanistan, tanking the economy, and brokering that dang mideast peace deal in four months. Although, he would look darn cute in a gardening apron.

Lily is sounding awful mournful on the porch. She's being extra fat this morning, getting into every nook and cranny (the umbrella stand, the entertainment center (inside and on top), tabletops, counters, anywhere. I locked her outside because she tries to eat the dog food, and they let her! So, she's crying so sadly now.

I'm still really excited about fall. When Rob and Tara came over for Sunday dinner Molly asked Rob if he knew how to install a woodstove. Poor guy, it's like walking into the lion's den here and he's too nice to tell us to leave him and his mad woodworking skills alone. But, he said he's talk to his dad to see how. They would be so rad. What's really missing from this place is that thick sweet smell of woodsmoke, one of my top five favorite smells. We're still trying to figure out how to get the yard raised up but we're making progress on that back patio. And, it's definitely time to decorate for Halloween. It's clear and windy and damn cold out there. So, it's time.

the good, the bad, the ugly

2008-10-05T18:01:00.000-07:00

The winds will blow their own freshness into you,
and the storms their energy,
while cares will drop off like autumn leaves."
- John Muir

The three day weekend is over. There were some glorious, and not so glorious, moments. Friday was mostly spent at my mom's. Then there was some Crossfit and dinner at Rachel and Val's. Saturday was gravel pick up, the Mudhens match (sweet sweet victory), and the neighbor's birthday party (too much tequila and some delicious tamales). Sunday was supposed to be the most productive day of all. It was alright. I got the rest of the gravel out of the truck and onto the dirt slab. I scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom floors like Cinderella. I made pear cake and apple biscuit something with the partly-rotting pears and apples on the porch. I planed the top of the front door to try to get a better fit in the door jam. Molly was not amused at the chunks of door that dropped to the ground. I visited my least favorite place: Home Depot. But, I was actually asked if I needed help, a lot. That's a first. Normally I wander around like I'm in the belly of a whale. If you are lucky enough to find someone that actually works there, they avoid contact and if they happen to make it, they scurry away before you can ask anything. If you manage to corner one of them and ask them anything then it's "not their department". Home Depot meant stepping stones. There is more to do in that department but we're going to eventually get the stones all along the fence, by the driveway. And we have some temporary ones from the front gate to the porch so we don't have to sludge through puddles. We also made delicious roasted tomato sauce from all our garden tomatoes. It's what my mom made when I was a kid when she picked all her tomatoes. We had green zebras, big fat red ones with mean brown wrinkles, long yellowish pear tomatoes, yellow taxi tomatoes, and little red cherry tomatoes. It was about four pounds over all and you blend basil, garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper in a Cuisineart and then pour that mix all over the halved tomatoes and roast the whole thing in the oven for 2-3 hours. I think it's my most favorite meal of fall. And carrot potato soup with fresh bread. Tara, Rob and a buddy of Tara's from back east came over for dinner. I ended up pulling out the whisky to share with Rob and we both drank too much. Too much whisky, on top of a couple beers and a couple glasses of wine. I felt that today when I went to a brutal day at work. There were way too many shoes and it was stressful. I felt terrible all day and finally came crawling home a little after 4:00 instead of going to pick up the second round of gravel.

I didn't workout this weekend and feel guilty about that but I get my butt handed to me each time I go to the Crossfit facility so I was still sore Sunday from that Friday night workout. I'm trying to summon up the energy for weighted pull-ups tonight.

Beginning of a long weekend

2008-10-03T10:08:00.000-07:00

It's finally here, the long weekend. This is wonderful. There's a lot that can happen. I'm looking forward to Sunday dinner with Tara and Rob. And I think the game will be awesome tomorrow. We were also invited to a birthday party with our 8 year old neighbor. I look forward to puttering around the house for the next few days. It's in a pretty special place right now. The creatures are dirt heaps that leave sand piles every time they lay down. And I think every dish we own is dirty, on the kitchen counter. And, the damn fruit flies are back. Molly and I try to scoop them up with the venus fly trap but that thing is dumb as hell, it just gapes open, even when a fly walks over top its teeth. Molly and I are hoping to at least get the frame of the patio set. There is also a nice green tinge settling in on the fence. Decorative? Festive? Lovely. It's probably time to rip up most of the garden. There are a few squash, tomatoes and peppers left. But, that's pretty much it. And, I hate to take it from her, but Suzy's path is digging our yard into more of a trench than ever. Friday is also leaf raking day and Molly bought a giant garbage bag spider for us to put our leaves in. I think they're supposed to be dry though. Especially since Molly wants to put the spider on the roof. I'll watch while she drags a three hundred pound leaf spider ten feet up a ladder onto our rooftop.

But, today I'm headed up north to my Mom's. And, I need to be back to catch the last Crossfit class at 6:30. That'll be super, especially since I'm going to be back tomorrow at 9am. Barf. And, at some point over the weekend, I need to get rid of this fantastic mullet that's taking over my neck.

Sarah Palin is hot but I'm still voting for Obama

2008-10-02T21:52:00.000-07:00

I watched the veep debate tonight, most of it anyways. I had a long, bad day at work and cracked open a beer first thing when I walked in the door. It's the beginning of a well-deserved long weekend and I started it off a little too right and continued with some fancier, bottled beverages when my mom showed up to watch the debates. I won't lie, I think Sarah Palin is good looking. I don't think I'm in the minority here. She's a straight-shooter (in more ways than one) and she doesn't mince her words (unless she's being interviewed by Katie Couric). She also goes into zero details and makes few risks. So, basically, she's your typical politician. Professionally I don't think she's any more than that. But, I can see the appeal. I didn't understand everything Joe Biden said tonight. I did understand everything Palin said. That's not to say I didn't wish she could be more specific. She excels at vagueness. But, so does G.W. and it got him eight long (long!) years in office. She may very well win this election for John McCain. But, she could also lose it. Shit, they should put me on her advisory committee with how cloudy my own thoughts are right now. But, what I'm trying to say is that her ability to dumb down the fact of the matter, or to avoid the fact of the matter, is her strength in politics. After a long day people don't want to hear the ins and outs, they want the beef. That's it. And, she's hot to boot. I don't think this is a small matter in these hard times. She might not be saying anything. Or she might be saying a very dumbed-down version (didn't think it could be done!) of the same crap George Bush has been saying for years. But, somehow, it sounds different when a milf says it. So, there's it is.

I'm still voting for Barak Obama. (He's attractive too, for the record). I think he'll get us straight with the economy. He'll help us direct the right attention to Afghanistan and get us the hell out of Iraq. He'll get more people better health care. He'll be thoughtful and well-informed and I believe he'll work with both republicans and democrats in the best interest of the country. I think McCain/Palin will do none of this, the exact opposite in fact. They'd leave us in Iraq to lose more lives until we need to get out like we did in Vietnam and then we'll need to seriously turn to Afghanistan with no troops to call upon. They'll deregulate the shit out of the economy so, just in case we avoid serious recession now, we'll be able to revisit that in the near future in a worse way. They'll pay the rich more just for being rich and give less to the middle class, even though they vouch for them all along the campaign trail. They'll invest in drilling nationally rather than expanding our damn options for the ineveitable oil shortage we'll have at some point in the next century. And, they'll further privatize healthcare so my mom will really be screwed and more and more people will pay more for crappier plans that drop them when they actually get sick. Not to mention the sidebar of social issues like abortion and gay marriage. (Actually, I think McCain would be more mild here unless he was hurting for republican base support). I am the most proud to vote in this election than any election I've participated in so far. I think it may be the most important election of my lifetime. But, I'm just saying, Sarah Palin is easy on the eyes and that will not hurt the McCain cause.

good ol' Lake City

2008-09-29T16:23:00.000-07:00

It's a beautiful day outside. 75 degrees, sunny, one of the last gasp kind of days before the rain clouds roll in for the winter. It's putting me in a better mood than I've been in for the past week. I signed up to double at the store this weekend and hated that decision all the way through. It was the nicest weekend in a while and I spent it inside both days. I've been frustrated with my job choice lately. Nothing against where I work, it's just for me anymore. I get really ancy working inside, especially if it's at a computer. And, working retail can only last so long before you get sick of saying the same things over and over and over and dealing with mostly good people but really hating on those few creeps who really believe the world revolves around their asshole lives. I can suck it up and treat them like people, even though they aren't returning the favor, but it gets harder and harder to do so the less I want to be there. So, I've been grumpy almost daily since I didn't get my usual day off. But, I have this coming weekend off entirely and, even though I was going to let it slide, I'm cashing in the Labor Day I spent at the office and I have Friday off as well. Since Tuesday is my usual day off, I only have two more work days until my three-day weekend. And one of those workdays, Thursday, I get to work the morning shift instead of my usual night shift so I can watch the VP-debate. My mom might come over to watch with me so that would make that day exciting and work would pass swiftly as a result. Perfect. This week is actually going to fly by pretty quick I think. I need to leave in an hour for the first UW rugby practice of the year. I'm really looking forward to it, especially looking forward to incorporating Crossfit into the fitness practices. I think it will help the team a lot and hopefully get some people excited about fitness. After that it's the second episode of Heroes. That's a pretty big deal in the Zimmerman/Knapp/ex-McCrow household. I won't lie, it's definitely not the same without Kaisa's shared enthusiasm/obsession with Heroes but that's a small sacrifice for her travels abroad. And, tomorrow I have loads going on. I want to go to my Mom's but would have to leave pretty early in the morning in order to back for a 2:50 doctor appointment. I have some annoying shit to get checked out. For whatever reason, I get super bad cramps when I exercise hard sometimes. That will simply not do whenever I become a firefighter and it really threw a wrench in my plans this morning. Three coworkers came to Crossfit with me. I was really excited to have them there and did their first workout rather than the one on the board. It was the easiest one I've done and I wanted to get through it quick and maybe do the other one after. But, the guy amongst us decided he wanted to try and beat me on the last 200 and I really didn't want to lose. So I "sprinted" (or what consitutes sprinting to me) it in while swearing at him and got awesome cramps right away. Trouble is, it looked like I was going to puke. I wasn't but my guts hurt pretty horrifically so I stepped away. I didn't want to come back and say that was an easy workout when it looked like it did a number on me. So, I didn't. I'll have to prove that later on. Long story short (or long), I'm going to the doc tomorrow to figure out why this happens. Then, back to Crossfit at 5:30 and then to my last Breakers practice at 6:45. Wednesday I want to do the 7am Crossfit since there's a clinic at work at 9am. Short break and back to work at 3:00 and then UW practice at 8:30. Thursday would be another early Crossfit, hopefully, work 8-3 and then begins the gloriously long weekend hopefully watching Palin embarass herself on national TV. (Nothing against you personally, Sarah. Your policies just terrify me and I really don't want your side to win the election. I wish you the best in your personal life though.) Molly and I were supposed to go to Oktoberfest in Leavenworth this weekend but we're thinking no. We have to get our patio in before the serious muds start and, even if it rains at the end of the week, it's probably better now than later. Also, those damn chickens are still on the porch and I really want them off. I'm wondering if there's a better solution than the dog crate on the front porch. Maybe the newly completed patio? Our garden is super tomato-ey. Some of the leaves on the squash need to get cut back and that veggies need to get picked and eaten. A lot can probably be pulled up since we're going to cover that whole area with fill dirt anyways. Besides that, it's just the same old stuff. Before winter Molly and I want to get a woodstove installed, put new gutters on the house, bring in fill dirt to the front lawn and put raised beds in place of the current "flower" and "herb" gardens. We also want to finish the patio, put a second set of stairs on the side of the porch and pull the back fence up to that area, and then paint the fence so it's weather-proofed. It's a lot to do. Hopefully we can knock a lot out this weekend. It would feel really good to be able to sit back and see some accomplishments, besides that damn chicken coop and it's eggless chickens.

Also, Lily peed on us again last night. She is a little bitch.

time for bed.

2008-09-24T22:53:00.000-07:00

This was a long day. What with two meetings at work, separated by four hours in which to shop for and make and bake and package my cookies, it felt very rushed. I drove to work, sat in a Nike meeting. Then I went to Safeway for some baking stuff and found no good birthday card for my uncle. why do they make such stupid cards? I came home and baked some cookies and drank a beer and let the chickens out. I wrote my grandma an e-mail. And I wrapped all the cookies in tinfoil and put them in boxes. I drove my truck to the library to drop off/pick up books. Then I went to work for a long long meeting with Merrell. Then helped a ridiculous person pick out socks forever while Molly sat like a corpse in the corner of the store because she's sick and was helping me by mailing the cookies I didn't have time to mail. I addressed and taped the cookie boxes. Then I worked for five hours selling shoes. In that time I also ate soup, bought and ate thai food, and drank some water. After work I e-mailed a testimonial to my Crossfit coach, closed the store, and met Deb and Val for a UW rugby meeting and stayed a bit to talk to Val, which was good. Then I went to QFC to buy Molly ginger ale and Advil PM. Then I came home and ate a bowl of ice cream and talked to Molly and read my grandma's response and watched a Crossfit video. Now I am writing this before brushing my teeth and going to bed. Also, I almost just barfed or passed out from looking at, and then Googling, some nasty white chunks on Molly's tonsils. That is my entire day. Weird how it managed to fill up 15 hours. I liked the baking and the meeting was good. I liked talking to Molly and driving my truck and drinking the beers. I could have done without the rest of it though.

Cloudy fall day

2008-09-24T11:56:00.000-07:00

I was trying to see if there was such a thing as a long-term weather prediction for this autumn (late summer, early winter, that sort of thing). And this is what I Googled first http://the-end.com/2008GodsFinalWitness/?gclid=CMXG9tiN9ZUCFSKhiQodkDrmhg. I am tempted to download and read this sucker. Sadly, with the mess with those asshole fat cats it seems like the US could be in some serious trouble over the next year. Especially with the war in Afghanistan ramping up.

I wanted to write more but I ended up responding to an email from my Grandma. We are having a nice e-mail exchange on politics and life. It's pretty interesting because we should be fighting, considering our large differences, but we're really having a great dialog that we're both enjoying. The last e-mail had to do with rape/abortion and gay marriage. We'll see where it goes.

I'm baking cookies before I head back to work. They're supposed to be bound for Connecticut, for my Uncle Frank's birthday, Wisconsin, for my cousin who's shipping out to Iraq next week, and Port Townsend, to my stepmom since she's been home alone all week while my dad is out sailing. I'm hoping they get to these various places before the weekend. I've sent baked goods over the weekend before and it's not the best plan.

The United States of Cheap Beer

2008-09-23T10:04:00.001-07:00

http://www.salon.com/mwt/food/eat_drink/2008/08/11/cheap_beer/

keep it simple stupid

2008-09-19T17:24:00.000-07:00

It's probably because I've had the week off from working out. Or maybe now that I'm not focused on the PAT anymore I'm stressing over other things (likely). Or it might be autumn snapping on our heels with this grey misty weather. No matter what, I'm eager for something more spartan, a rigorously simple life without knickknacks and trillions of errands. The attic is a sprawling geography of my what I used to do, used to be like. It's a lot of fun for Molly to go through (when she's not trying to find something of her's that she needs) but I could do without the reminder of my old nerdiness (not that I think I moved past that, I just know my current nerdiness very well.) I want less of the non-essential. I read a good website that advocated some, surprise, simple ideas to move away from a rushed, cluttered existance. Here is some of what this guy says... Be engaged in your downtime. I'm not going to lie, I've watched TV and been online at the same time. That's gross to me. Simply too much. And then you get a text message so you respond to that, while gmail chatting and trying to keep up with whatever's on TV... shit, where's my book. Call me a luddite but I think there is such a thing as too much, at least for this simpleton. I would love to spend more time reading. And I do like watching movies and TV series. But, Molly and I usually rent them so we can skip the commercials and watch way too many in a row. Another thing he said was to keep your e-mail inbox empty. Yeah right. Mine is as cluttered as the attic. I'm doing pretty well right now and I have 130 e-mails, 28 unread. I would not like to clean the whole thing out, although it would be pretty glorious when it was done. I should also check e-mail less often. I don't work much with computers but I still don't have any pressing e-mail contacts that I need to be refreshing the screen for. It's a weird nervous tic, maybe it affirms that I'm a person to be contacted regularly. What else... you're supposed to sort your clothes by season, so you can pack away those things that you seriously won't wear (like shorts now, apparently). I sort of already do this. I like to keep my dresser full of the clothes I folded the last time I folded clothes (looks like June or so from the geological layers) and then the floor is where I keep both a) the clothes I really where and b) the clothes that I don't actually wear but have been caught up in the laundry/floor cycle so keep getting cleaned and then walked upon, without being worn. It would be pretty sweet to have a) less clothes and b) to not have to paw through shorts in December or wool sweaters in August to find what I really want to wear. Besides, I could donate stuff I clearly never wear if I'm forced to pack or unpack it twice a year. Moving on, I'm supposed to be happy with my livlihood. I can't say that I really am right now. It could definitely be much worse but I'm really distracted by that glint of an idea that I could, someday, be a firefighter. I feel like a pipsqueak when I tell people that. And I get that same look you give a six year-old who professes the same vocational fantasy. It'll happen, I know that much. I'm just now sure when, or with what department. In this vein, I would do well to start studying for oral boards, just so I'm ready in case Tacoma calls me up for an interview. As 21st century creatures, we're supposed to be eating like it's the middle ages, no Coca Cola or Cheetos. Things that occur naturally in the world are okay (including beer, believe it or not), things that are created in a lab are not. I should probably follow this a little less loosely. Almost every night I feel like shit, probably the result of poor eating throughout the day. The rest of his list finishes out with such exciting endeavors as decluttering and organizing one's home, minimizing grass in the yard (less lawncare I suppose), live withing your means (rather than expanding debt), and buying less but buying high quality when you do buy. All of these things sound just great to me. The trouble is enacting them. It's way easier to clomp into the house after work, drop down my bag inside the door, track dirt over to the fridge where I open it up and crack open a cheap can of watered-down alcoholic goodness, and slump on the couch to watch something uninteresting. I'm actually preparing to enact something good for me right now. Can't you tell? Actually, I wanted an excuse to listen to NPR for half an hour and writing this blog pretty much took care of that. Speaking of which, what constitutes a recession because it seems like we're in one.

There is only one thing I would add to that guy's simplicity guide. I'd say everyone should exercise, in some fashion, every day. It makes you happy and it makes you sleep well.

murdery mystery

2008-09-18T11:22:00.000-07:00

There was some weird ruckus this morning that we attributed to Lily, our ever-annoying kitten/cat. But when Molly went out to let the hens out one of them, Basal C., was face down in the shavings. She came and got me and it was pretty clear that Basal was no longer with us. She was laying at the foot of the ladder (their roost) and there was a lot (a lot for a chicken!) of blood on the four bottom rungs of the ladder. I couldn't find an injury on her though. We were both late, Molly for work and me for the dogs' annual vet appointment. So we put her a paper bag in the house and I am home now to bury her. I just washed the blood of the ladder. I really can't believe how much blood there is, especially without an obvious injury on her. I'm going to go bleach it and clean up the rest of the coop and figure out where to bury her. She was a good, quiet lady. Molly and I are both just shocked at how random it is. Poor Molly has not really dealt with this sort of sudden, random (and apparently fairly violent?) death. When I went out and picked Basal up Molly's bottom lip started quivering and her eyes got full of tears. I felt almost as bad for Molly as I did for the chicken.

I guess this is how it goes though. I'm moving the coop around in case she got hurt getting off the ladder. I'm not really sure what happened but I want to prevent it from happening in the future. This is probably one of the weirdest deaths I've ever seen.

RIP Basal C.

Three years later...

2008-09-16T14:43:00.000-07:00

I passed my PAT with Tacoma this morning in six minutes and twenty four seconds. I felt comfortable, albeit taxed at times. And I felt like I had it pretty much the whole way through. It didn't feel like failure was an option. I am really happy with my time. The practice run I did was 7:41. Max time to still pass is 7:30. The Crossfit I've been doing has really helped, not only physically but mentally as well. I owe it to a lot of people who have given me advice and told me I could do it. If you hear it enough it seems to come true. I turned in my application packet right after and I hope I get a call for an interview. Nothing is for sure but I'm crossing my fingers. If I get invited to an interview that'll be the furthest I've ever come to being hired by any department, especially a department I really want to work for.

I'm stoked. This test has been in the back of my mind since I first tried (and failed) my first 2.5" charged hose drag back in August of '05. I didn't end up testing then due to being sick/injured/psyched out. Now, I feel like the chickens finally came home to roost and it was good. Very very good.

The best part is that I barfed in the shower this morning. I brushed my teeth and then brushed my tongue and made myself gag. I'd been on the verge of barfing all morning and that was all the excuse I needed to let 'er rip. I'd only eaten coffee so that was it, but it was a delicious way to begin the day. Molly forced me to take peanut butter toast on the way down to Tacoma, and Dad handed me a primo banana. I managed to eat a small corner of the toast and half the banana but couldn't choke down anymore than that. Even my normal cup of coffee was super unenjoyable. After I finished the test I drank a 16oz coffee and half a gallon of water on the way home, plus the couple cups of water I drank before and after the test. I had to stop to pee four times on the way home. Granted, my trip home took my forever because of a couple errands/poor turns. But I urinated at the Tacoma Public Library, the rest stop just north of Fife, the Queen Anne 76 station (this one was an emergency), and the Green Lake Kidd Valley. Great day.