This year, my dude asked for three things for his birthday. One: a day off work for both of us where we spent the whole day doing interesting stuff, but he didn't know what and wanted me to plan it. Two: a very low-key activity of some sort with his most favorite Seattle people. Three: a fancy dinner and a night out seeing something arty. I am happy to say that I came through for him on all three things. After months of him taking care of me, I really, really wanted to plan a bunch of stuff that was exactly as he wanted. And I did. Yay, me! (Oops, see how I turned that shit around and made it about me again? DANGIT).
We took the day off on Wednesday and I took him to a history museum which was a total score. They had old timey tools there, and old timey printing presses, and old timey factory machines. My guy likes old timey stuff in a Ron Swanson sort of way. We then walked around in the surprising sunshine and ended up on the Ferris wheel. It was good times. Thing One: DONE.
I tried to make us reservations to go bowling but the reservation lady jacked it up and so we didn't know whether we were showing up for bowling on Friday night or if we were showing up to shoot pool. I sent out an email to Nordic Boy's pals saying that all I knew was that we were going to be rolling some sort of balls around for sport, but I was not sure of ball size or rolling format. We showed up and it turned out to be pool, which was fine. If you play pool with me, Nordic Boy, or our friends, we are not pretending to be not good in order to pool shark your ass. We are really just that stinky at it. At any rate, drinks were drunk, balls were rolled, fun was had. Thing Two: DONE.
Saturday night I made us reservations at our current restaurant obsession, got dressed up all swanky, and went to stuff our faces. After that we went to the opera. Rigoletto (or "Rigatoni" as we like to call it because we are SO FUNNY) was the show. I have many things to say about that opera. First of all, it will never cease to amaze me the sheer volume that comes out of those humans. Like, it is blasting right out of their faces in a way that does not seem right at all. Second, this thing had all of the elements of an episode of Scandal- kidnapping, beating, murder, affairs, betrayal, all of it. Opera does not tone down the drama, y'all. Third, of all, I know it is a cliche but it really is true that sometimes characters in an opera take an awfully, awfully long time to die. This girly in Rigoletto got stabbed, and she sang, then she got rolled up in a bag and dragged around (NO JOKE THIS OPERA WAS THUGGISH), then she got unwrapped, and then she sat up and sang a bunch more and THEN she croaked. It was bananuts. At any rate, Thing Three: DONE.
It was my birthday last week. The first birthday of my whole life without my dad. As the day approached, I felt more and more dread about it, and honestly I just didn't even want it to happen. People had started to ask me about what I would like to do this year, and my responses ranged from "whateverIdon'tknowIjust...[trailing off]" to "NOT FEELING IT DO NOT TALK ABOUT IT" to "nothing. I guess? I don't know. Something?" It was a lovely soup of confusing messages. Luckily, I have people in my life who know how to cut through the baloney talk (I am currently fluent in baloney talk) and know that it really doesn't matter what the venue- a party, a quiet evening, a home-cooked meal- what I really needed was a reminder that I am loved. Nordic Boy and the gang proceeded to ignore my weird mumblings and be bossy about the whole thing and orchestrated several birthday activities for me. Thank goodness. Here are some of the things that got cooked up.
A small group of my favorite Seattle pals gathered up for a fancy meal in a fancy restaurant. We got a private room in the back (sitting in the back rooms of restaurants feels like the mafia, only without the impending threat of violence), and ate up. The restaurant could not have been more tasty and the people running that restaurant were de-fricking-lightful. They gave us free bottles of Prosecco all around and the best, most warm service. Afterwards we went back to my house and we had cupcakes and there were presents and everyone sang to me and is there anything more awkward than having the birthday song being sung to you, but I loved it because what are friends for if not to embarrass you with their love for you.
My friends Alli and Map, in their lifelong tradition of showing up at my door whenever I need them no matter what, both flew to Seattle for a long weekend which was so, so lovely of them. I love those girls so much, I can't even tell you. I boohoo-ed a little bit with Alli the first day that she arrived, just talking about all my FEEEEEEEELINGS, but then Friday and Saturday I did not get teary once, you guys. The thing is that I have gotten weepy at least once a day, every day, for the past 5 months. A non-crying day is kind of a big deal these days, and those girls made it happen. How? Example: there was a point in the weekend where one of them yelled out in confusion "What the FUCK is a pudenda and do I have one?" and how can you be sad when that is being yelled at you? You cannot.
Nordic Boy took me out to dinner one night and to a ballet show afterward. The show was three pieces by Twyla Tharp and one of them is a classic of hers that is set to a series of Frank Sinatra songs. Those songs are so common to our ears because Sinatra is so iconic and they are everywhere- in movies, in ads, whatever-- it's almost like I don't really hear the songs anymore. The show made me really listen to a lot of it in a way I hadn't for a while, and hey, news flash, they are pretty much great songs. I am just only now discovering this, because I am super ahead of the times. I was watching the ballet, and the song "Strangers in the Night" came on, and is there a song that seems more corny than that song? But dudes. It is not corny, is what I sat there and realized. Maybe it was the song, maybe it was the dance, maybe it was the night, maybe it is the mood I have been in. It made me think about how well I am loved. I looked over at Nordic Boy. He was already looking at me.
I have been floating through my days this summer, not paying much attention to things that I normally would. Summer usually means trips, a full up social calendar, and tons of time in the sunshine (Seattle summers are so gorgeous, the entire city freaks out this time every year). I have been living in the present to a sort of ridiculous degree, which is mostly a good thing, but can also be kind of weird, when I stop to think about it. I find I am having awkward conversations with people where they are asking me perfectly reasonable things like "do you have any upcoming trips planned?" or "what are you doing this weekend?" or "do you want to come to my party next month?" and I feel like I am being asked to perform time travel. The future? Plan something? What sort of crazy talk is that? My days (outside of work, that is- I can get it up for work because people aren't paying me to be a damn hippie) consist of me only thinking of the very next thing that might happen. I read a book for a while, until my stomach grumbles, and then I find something to eat, and then I might look outside and decide to go for a walk, and while on a walk, if a friend calls and asks me if I want to go out, I will do that. Just, consecutive decision making, one thing at a time. It's sort of awesome. I don't mean to overstate this- I mean when I think about it I am still doing things that are autopilot for me, like getting my groceries and cleaning my house and things like that, so I don't mean to say that my life lacks any structure. I am a pretty structured-time kind of lady (I know, so sexy) so certain things are just always going to be happening in my life because I have always been that way. So, just know that I am not patting myself on the back too much over Living in the Moment, Man. I'm just saying. For me, it's been loosey goosey.The downside of it is (aside from awkward conversations where I answer "I don't know" a hundred times because I have never before noticed how often future planning comes up in conversation but people are doing a poop-ton of planning, it turns out) is that things move a lot slower this way, and I can sometimes feel like life is moving along super fast for everyone else, and I am standing still, and look at all these things people are getting done, and what have I done, and omg, nothing, I have done nothing, and summer is almost over and I missed the whole thing, ahhhhhhhh! Life is not a race but it can sure feel like one when your friends have had babies, written books, gone on vacations, or remodeled their homes all during a span of time where you've just been dicking around wondering if now would be a good time to go for a walk or not.
Anyway, my weekend was really lovely. Much of it was spent at home with that dude of mine. We chatted and read and home improved a bit. On Sunday evening we took Delium out for a belated birthday dinner at a fancy restaurant and played Last Word with the topic: Comfy Mystery TV series, which lasted like an hour, because once somebody utters aloud the phrase "Father Dowling Mysteries" then it's required that we talk about that for ten minutes before someone else says "Rosemary and Thyme."
When Delium arrived at our house to pick us up for dinner, he rang the doorbell, Nordic Boy answered the door, Delium walked in, and I stood up and did a sort of Russian style jumpy jig while yell-singing "Ha---ppy birthday happybirthdayhappybirthday! Ha---ppy birthday, happybirthdayhappybirthday!" and Nordic Boy and Delium watched that shit for like, half a second before full on joining in, jumping, raising the roof, and throwing in some turns. "HA---PPY BIRTHDAY HAPPYBIRTHDAYHAPPYBIRTHDAY!" it went, from all three of us. This makes me think about how these dudes help me to live in the present all the time, by not thinking too much before deciding to act silly, by being present enough to join in on some dumb shit right in the moment, by not being worried about looking weird in front of each other, by bringing out joyfulness in something as simple as saying hello. I know that sooner or later this slow pace I have been in will end and I will speed up my life again. But I have people who bring out the present so vividly and exuberantly all the time, I won't lose this feeling.
It is Nordic Boy's birthday this month and we have pretty much celebrated it by stuffing our gaping maws with as much fancy feast as we can get. (Fancy feast, lower case, meaning actual deluxe vittles, not upper case Fancy Feast for kitties. Don't get grotty). First of all, Biogirl gave us a gift certificate to what is arguably the hoity toity-est restaurant in town so we pranced over there in our finest and got our grub on. It was really grand, and we felt like Kim and KanyeLady Mary and Matthew Blake and Krystal Carrington. They had $100 beer there, you guys! We did not order any. The waiters all kept one hand behind their backs at all times like it was Darlington Hall from Remains of the Day and shit. We did the tasting menu and at one point the waiter brought us "pine foam made from the trees you see out your window here." And he pointed at the trees outside the window. Let me say that again. PINE FOAM. Get out of here! We also had this sweet crispy light vanilla-tasting biscuit that came with sorbet and berries and the server told us that the biscuit was made from mushrooms. Are you fucking with me, Mr. Belvidere? Because I think you may be fucking with me.
I tried to take pictures of some of the food there but the lighting was so bad that all of my photos came out looking like shadowy turds on a plate, so I shall refrain from posting those here. It was really a lovely dinner though.
Then I decided that Nordic Boy's birthday cake should be a Junior's cheesecake overnighted from NYC. Have you ever had one of those? They are so effing delicious. Just, if you get one, don't look at the ingredients label because there are many many things in it that do not come from nature. Whatever the heck is in there is the bomb though.
Then! Delium and Biogirl took us out for a birthday dinner to another lovely place. The most noteworthy thing about that evening wasn't the food (although that was so good), but rather that the conversation took a really wrong turn and one of us (all of us?) came up with a new sexual term called Butt Cobbler. Which, you don't even want to know, trust me on this. By the end of the night we had even composed a slow jam r&b song about Butt Cobbler, so that just gives you an idea of how classy us effers get.
In non-birthday, non-eating, non-butt-song news, this week there is a big librarian conference in my town. If you're a librarian and you're here for it and you want to meet up, email me! DO IT.
Happy birthday to my awesome mom. I am going to be a blog cheater and direct you back to another post I wrote about my mom, because that's just how it has to be today.
This is us when she was the age that I am now. Isn't she a stunner?
I saw this birthday card recently that said the following: "Martin Luther King. Jr. gets one day where we celebrate his birthday. So calm down, Birthday Month People." It sort of cracked me up.
I mention that only because I want to emphasize that I didn't even set out to be a birthday month person this year, and yet, it just happened. This whole month has been super terrific happy times. These are among the things that have been making it grand.
1. Delium took me to see the Paul Taylor Dance Company who just so happened to be in town. They were so delicious and unitardy. I loved every minute of it.
2. Nordic Boy and I went to a fancypants restaurant and did a million-course tasting menu. The final course was brought out and the waiter explained what it was using not one word that either of us could define. It was also visually indecipherable. "You taste it first and tell me what it is," I said after the server had gone. Nordic Boy took a big bite and said "Oh, you'll like it. It tastes like a lemon muffin with Cool Whip!" Really, when eating fancy food you should take Nordic Boy with you for descriptive assistance.
3. Biogirl took me for a road trip down the Oregon coast for a weekend. In the car, she invented what might be the best mash up of all time: Demi Lovato's "Give Your Heart A Break" mixed with "Break me off a piece of that Kit Kat bar." 4. My brother took me out to another fancy dinner and regaled me with stories about my nephew who recently, after scoring a goal during one of his soccer games, with no forethought whatsoever, busted out into the Gangnam style dance in joyous celebration which led to all his little friends joining right in. Trust me, I know you don't know my nephew but this is hysterically adorable.
5. My coworkers made a really big deal about my birthday this year. I know that work-related birthdays are usually cheesy and excruciating but this one felt really genuine. I felt appreciated.
6. I sent out a blanket invite to a bunch of friends to meet up with me at my local pub for a drink on my actual birthday and it was just the lovliest night. The weather was gorgeous, we sat outside, I got to soak in the awesomeness that is my life, and my friend Kevin actually brought me some Vernor's so I could indulge my newfound love for the Detroit Cooler.
7. All of my favorite faraway people called me or texted me funny, thoughtful messages. My parents, Alli, her husband Chris who I also adore, Map, Palindrome, my brothers, my cousin R, just my small but steadfast group.
8. I have discovered that there is a thing called a pajancho. Yes, I am taking this fact as a personal birthday present to me. Not the item. The word. Don't you just want to say it every day of your life? Pajancho, pajancho, pajancho.
My birthday is this weekend, and I gotta say, I am feeling super good about the birthday this year. Like, not just an excited birthday feeling because I have a lot of things planned (which I am because I do), but a bigger, better birthday feeling. I know that birthdays are sort of meaningless, really- I mean we are aging all the time and so marking a particular day and feeling like we are all of a sudden older on that day is sort of weird when you think about it. But birthdays are a time to look around at one's life, and take stock, and think about how things are going. And for me, this week, I have been feeling good, just deep down in my soul. 2011 was, in a way, about letting go of 2 people that I was trying to keep in my life who- when I really took a look at the truth of it-didn't really want to be there. So I let them go, and it was really, really sad, and I was sort of preoccupied a lot of the time with the fact that those people were missing. 2 core people who had kind of always been there for me for years and years and years, were just gone. Even though I didn't wallow, I did sort of feel like it was in the back of my mind a lot of the time. It was like I was walking around with these ghosts of people who I loved so much that just didn't love me back. It was hard to eat that, but eat it I did. I kind of didn't have a choice, I guess. I have to say that as hard as it was, I took it like a champ, which is something.
This past year though, I feel like that phase is finally passing, and just in the past month or so it really feels different. I just feel... better. More than better. I feel really good. I think the ghosts are- if not gone- then at least they don't live with me all the time now.
Last night, Nordic Boy was doing the dishes, and I was reading a book, and the new Tegan and Sara song came on, and Nordic Boy came out of the kitchen swinging a dish towel around in that silly way of his, and pulled me out of my chair, hit "repeat" and we danced. We laughed, and jumped, and Saturday-Night-Fevered, and dipped, and were breathless, and just got our boogie on in our living room, and I thought to myself, yay for me. I am still loved, and I'm not even talking about that gorgeous Nordic Boy of mine. I'm talking about me. I heard my own laugh and I felt my body moving around and I felt the parts of my soul that are still open to things, to people, to fun, to life, and I thought: ah, yes, now I remember. I am kind of awesome. I really love being me. Look at that girl, I thought to myself. She pretty much rocks it. I love her.
Go dance around and think about how awesome you are. It's really so necessary, you guys.
Gah! I am still being kicked in the arse by worky time, so you'll have to endure more photos from me today rather than my usual ramblings. This weekend was Biogirl's birthday and to celebrate I did three of my favorite things. Walked, ate, and got arty. One place we traipsed was aboard the ferry to the Bloedel Reserve on Bainbridge Island. Here's some photogometry to like, prove it.
(matchy shoes for ferry riding)
(which one of us is Katherine Hepburn and which one of us is Henry Fonda?)
Monday. Blah. Here's my list of what's in my brain today.
1. I kind of want to do NaBloPoMoBloJoHo (I just like to add that last part on there because I am juvenile), and started to do it last week, but that didn't last very long. I guess I am still trying, if it even makes sense to do that. Just set your expectations way way low on that one though. Dial it all the way down.
2. The weather has turned. The best we can hope for is some blue sky every once in a while, but we know those days are numbered as well. This weekend, Nordic Boy started wearing his winter work boots while doing up his carpentry rigamarole in his shop. "The days for summer boots are gone," he said. Then we sang the chorus of Don Henley's "Boys of Summer" with the words "boots of summer" inserted, because that's how we do around here.
3. I have a new phone. I now need a new phone holder thing. I am having trouble finding one that meets my own personal design specifications. I came back from a shopping trip and Nordic Boy asked me if I found a phone case, and I said I didn't see any that I liked, and he said "I think we're starting up another pencil cup situation here." Because I spent three years looking for a pencil cup that met my aesthetic needs. And I never found one. So I just decided that I didn't need a pencil cup. And Nordic Boy never once said to me "IT IS JUST A PENCIL CUP GET OVER IT." Because he knows a battle that can't be won, plus he is nice to me like, all the time. Anyway, maybe I can just be really careful with my new phone?
4. I spent part of my weekend browsing some stores for wintery clothes. I have trouble with wintery clothes, mainly because I am not a fan of bulk, but I am also not a fan of being cold. My solution to this problem has been to just wear summer/spring/fall clothes which solves the bulk issue but doesn't solve the being cold issue. Between this and the pencil cup thing and the phone case thing I really find myself unbearable sometimes. It does save me money though, since impulse buying is sort of out.
5. Biogirl and I had a full on therapy session over the weekend about the remakes of Dirty Dancing and Footloose. In the conversation the following phrase was said: "YOU SIR, are no Kevin Bacon!" I think we can all adopt that phrase in a multitude of situations.
6. Biogirl, who has been coveting the Norm-in-Cheers status of "regular" for many years, finally got her wish at the brunch joint we frequent. We go there almost weekly, so it's about bloody time they recognize us. They knew her name! And what she wanted to order! It was a grand day in her life. I was glad to be there to witness.
7. We had dinner with our friends HVDM and her husband J. Afterward, we came over to my house and played Outburst. I was seriously off my game and this was evidenced by the following. I could not name all ten Robert Redford movies on the dang card, and I couldn't name off ten Shakespeare plays. What the eff, me? I might as well have forgotten the alphabet as far as I am concerned.
8. I finally signed up for pinterest. Let me know if you're on it too and I'll follow you.
9. It was Alli's birthday yesterday. There are a few things that make me feel melancholy around this time of year, and not being there for Alli's birthday is always one of them. We always did birthday shenanigans when we were kids! How dare she grow up and move away! Wait, that was me that moved away. I hate it when I have to blame myself for my own whining.
10. YOU SIR are no Kevin Bacon! I just wanted to say that again.
This weekend, I went to a super fun dinner party where we ate soup and told scary stories and played a rousing game of Celebrity (which our team, named Syphilitic Spam because apparently we are disgusting people, totes won). I have been a little out of the party loop lately (my policy of saying "yes" to invitations was getting sloppy, I admit it, but I have a new furnace and my house is co-zizzy these days) but the upside of hibernating for a short while is to show up at something and remember all over again how awesome my pals are. Look at that! Cool people! If only I remember to leave my house! My say yes policy has been refreshed. Plus I got to do a Bruce Lee in charades whereby I kicked my leg up and maybe showed the party goers my bloomers. So that's always fun.
On Saturday and Sunday I was treated to not one but two brunches by different friends. I also spent Saturday having a full hangout day with Biogirl, which is one of my most favorite things evah. We browsed DSW and went for gelato and looked at purses and jewelries and got stuck in traffic (yes, even the traffic part was fun) and then joined Nordic Boy for dinner where he told us a long involved story about bad home improvement that had us in stitches. That dude is funny, you guys. Sunday Nordic Boy and I hung out with our dear Delium. Delium is delightful and I shall provide an example. He told me that he had been at our house the day before, eating lunch with Nordic Boy. During the lunch, he said that he had, along with his sandwich, a dill pickle EVENT. The event was that we didn't have his favorite brand of dill pickles. We had some other brand. And our brand? Was totally acceptable! I am totally delighted by the fact that this story was (a) drawn out into an actual story and (b) was labeled an EVENT. He is not one to shy away from making! everything! exciting! I love it.
I had sort of let go of the idea of birthdayness this year, happily so. There were too many other more important things going on that needed attention, and cheerleading for my own birthday has gotten a little tiresome in the past few years (I try not to be annoyed by my own self, but it's hard). But even without me pushing the idea of overt birthdayness, it was a good month. Biogirl went all out for me, which was delightful, but she always goes all out for me. Overall, nothing was a big departure from non-birthday months, but that is totally the beauty of it. I felt loved this month, the same as I do other months. I'll stick with that plan over the long haul, if I'm lucky.
I remember this night, when I was in high school, when I had a big paper due for English class the next day, and I hadn't even started it yet. This was totally and completely how I treated every assignment in high school so I don't know why I particularly remember this night. It was like 9 or 10pm, and my friend Map called me. I sat on my bedroom floor, looking at my notes as I talked to her. Let me try and recreate the very eloquent conversation we had.
Her: What are you doing?
Me: I have to do that fucking paper for tomorrow.
Her: Have you started it?
Me: Nope.
Her: I'm coming over.
About a month or two ago, I was feeling lonesome. I couldn't really put my finger on what I was lonesome for, since I have friends and peeps and lovelies all around. I happened to put on my Facebook page that I was feeling that way, like an ambiguous lonesome Bat signal. You know what happened? Within an hour, Alli and Map, all the way from Chicago and suburban Detroit, responded by saying, essentially: "We're coming over."
By the end of that day, a date was set, plane tickets were bought, and that was that. Vague sense of lonliness: over and out. I love those two. Love, love, love them.
Last weekend, when Nordic Boy had to hop on a plane in a hurry, I called up Alli and Palindrome and told them: Nordic Boy will be landing at O'Hare. He might need you. Get ready if he needs to come over.
Then Biogirl came over and took me to Portland. When I got back, I sat in my house and worried about Nordic Boy. Delium called me up and said: I'm coming over. While he was here, my friend M showed up at my door with a box of fancy macaroons to cheer me up and wish me a happy birthday, totally unexpected.
Look at all that I'm Coming Over-ness. It's kind of amazing.
This got me thinking about the whole idea of telling someone you're coming over. Completely uninvited, but so confident in the mutual love that you know that the other person would like nothing more than your barging in. I have a few people in my life that I do that with, and I know that I'm lucky about that. I have a few more that I wish I could do that with, but I'm not confident about that mutual love thing, so I don't. Maybe I should be braver, but it's hard.
Anyway. I'm going to pick up Alli and Map at the airport today. If you get a minute, think about your "I'm coming over" people. Aren't they awesome?
Many fabulous things happened on my birthday weekend. One, Nordic Boy and my parents chipped in to buy me a new, fancy (well, fancy to me) camera. I AM IN HOT SWEATY LOVE WITH IT.
Unfortunate downside is that I have become a person who only looks at other people or myself like this.
Thusly, now I will likely run off at the mouth AND at the lens at you. Aren't you so excited?
Another downside is that I may think it would be really fun to take America's Next Top Model style photo shoots where I practice my Kim Kardashian poses, and I may force you to play along with me. And then I may fuck up the whole thing by not yet understanding how to work the damn fancy camera.
All of the coerced posing and silly blue steel faces! For what? For a nice clear look at a table top surface. Clearly I am a photographic genius.
The second awesome thing about the weekend was that Biogirl swept me off my feet to Portland and we went to the final runway show of Portland Fashion Week. What's that you say? Do I have photos? Oh mais oui.
The whole thing was in a shipyard. I kept looking for Frank Sebotka everywhere.
If you haven't ever been to a runway show before, here's my advice. Before they open the doors to seating, try to position yourself somewhere where you can see the models practicing their walks. Catching a glimpse of designer's assistants (often nerdy looking dudes) coaching them a la Miss J is worth the price of admission.
My other advice is that there are basically two places you can be for the best view. One is the front row. You have to be a high roller for that though, or be some sort of celebrity, or both. At this show, the most fascinating character we spotted was this Sam-Elliot-in-The-Big-Lebowski guy sitting front row center. He was surrounded on both sides, as well as in the row behind him, by young fashionista ladies. They were fawning all over him. Who was that guy?
Biogirl and I concocted a whole backstory about him. We'd like to think that he is a high end leather wholesaler and that he is close personal friends with Stella Who Loves Leathah from Project Runway.
The second best place to be is the cheap seats. I am totally not just saying that because that's where you will definitely find me. I am saying it because it's really the best place to see everything. The"cheap seats" will get you the privilege of standing behind the back row of chairs, smooshed in where there is hardly any room at all and you will have to watch yourself or you may just fall off the back of the riser upon which you are precariously standing. Whoever said fashion is not comfort was someone who was standing in the back row. But truly it is the best because you can see right over everyone's head.
Anyway, here are some shots.
The whole thing was just delicious, I can't even tell you. Biogirl: birthday saver. As well as a mean catwalker herself.
So after the sad events I wrote about yesterday, I've been thinking, and I have to tell you guys something. I have a fear about my blog and it is this: I am afraid that the way I seem to react to Bad Stuff happening will make people think I am a horrible person. Like, remember last year on my birthday when my dad had to go to the hospital, and there really wasn't anything I could do about it, so after I talked to my family and we all agreed on that much, I went ahead and attended my birthday party anyway? When I told you guys about that, I was afraid that I sounded callous. Who goes to a party and has fun when their dad is in the hospital? I do. And I worry that people will think less of me for it. I know I am doing what feels right to me. But that still doesn't allay my fear that other people won't get that. Still being able to see my pals, go to work, genuinely smile soon after some serious shit has gone down? Who does that? A crazy person? A terrible person? Hopefully not. Hopefully it's just a person who's trying to cope.
All of this is to say that after Nordic Boy left yesterday and a morning of me being weepy, I took a breath and went about my day, and it was a good day in my awesome life, and I still want to tell you about that. I went out to a lunch with Biogirl where we talked for two hours, and cried in the restaurant (sorry for freaking you out, waitstaff), and peed ourselves laughing too. And then I went into work last night and had an super sweet time watching hundreds of teenagers screaming for their favorite author, who we hosted, and come on, what could be more joyful than seeing teens go bonkers for reading? And today Biogirl and I are heading out of town for the weekend, to try to salvage birthdayness for me. What is happening with Nordic Boy and Joel is going to be in my mind the whole time, but I have developed, over a long time of working on it, a way to simultaneously feel joy too. Am I horrible for soldiering on with birthday nonsense when heartbreaking circumstances are occurring? When I get back on Monday and show you guys pictures and such of the awesome, are you all going to be like "hey wow, she was talking about someone dying on Friday and she's talking about this ridiculousness not two days later?"
I have a huge fear that you'll think that. And I guess I can't control it if you do. But even if you do, somewhere in your mind, even as you think it, please try to be generous with me as well. I'm not selfish and terrible, I promise you. I'm just trying to deal.
Sheet, it's already Wednesday. Keep meaning to post, but the world keeps spinning and me along with it.
On the up side, I think spring is finally coming out from behind the clouds. A little. Maybe. Sometimes.
Other awesome stuff in my world lately:
1. Biogirl threw a birthday party for herself wherein we played Celebrity. During the charades round, she busted out a Michael Jackson imitation that included a "whoo!" that could not be contained escaping from her lips. And really, who can blame her? What is MJ without his whoo?
2. Nordic Boy did a coy rendition of Marilyn Monroe during the charades round as well. Holding his imaginary skirt down, batting his eyes, making a Marilyn mouth, the whole bit. It held about 5% of the silliness that he can muster up, but still, it blew the partygoers away. I love seeing how people who don't know him well react to how much of a clown he really is- I enjoy their reaction so much more than his actual clownishness. When you first get to know him you would so never guess it, with that serious face of his, so people get such a kick out of it when he is funny all of a sudden. It seems out of nowhere. I want to say dudes, you have no idea.
3. A story was told about how, in a fit of road rage, our friend Rob yelled out the nonsensical but hilarious phrase "Jesus Tits!" at someone in another car. Need I say that this is a new favorite for us?
4. Spent an evening with some library coworker friends and no one talked about work, not ONCE. It was a sweet, sweet miracle.
5. Got a Sunday morning serenade from Nordic Boy. It was a full voice (loud ass) rendition of "You Spin Me Right Round." With dancing. It was quite a sight.
6. Spent a sunny Saturday literally tiptoeing through the tulips in Skagit Valley. It spun me right round baby right round.
Ok, as promised, I am back from my "vacation" (if you want to call that shit that I just went through a vacation, which would be, like, the saddest thing ever), and I am sick of having Work Be My Whole Life, so I am stopping that right this minute and doing what I said I was going to do, which is Rejoin the World.
And, to celebrate, guess what? I have gas!
Bet you didn't think I was going to say that, did you? I am talking about the fact that we had a gas line put in so that before next winter, we can get a new furnace. We were thinking about taking a trip to England this summer or fall, but then our heater started being a total asshole so now we have decided that a having heat is more important than travelling the globe.
Listen, I never said that Rejoining the World would be so's I could do exciting stuff.
Actually, the gas line thing was sort of exciting. The people in the orange vests came and they had a crazy amount of equipment and they bored a hole from the sidewalk to our house and tore up the street and one of the dudes was smoking the entire time he was doing so which didn't seem like the smartest idea in the world but what do I know. For all the work we do on our house, we never really have other people that we don't know come in, tear shit up, do something, and then clean up and leave all within a few hours. Like, at least not people that we don't already know. So it was exciting. We may have stood in our house and watched them through our window all day, like an inverted fishbowl. Maybe.
In the two days since we got back from our trip, I have successfully done other things that make me feel like a human being rather than a library robot. They are!
1. Made a haircutted appointment. I have neglected the head hairs for months, and I may soon be entering Cousin It territory, so to the salon I go. Tomorrow!
2. Made plans to go to not one, but two dance shows. That's like, my church.
3. Made three dinner dates.
4. I emailed a few folks that I haven't been in contact with for a while to inform them that I am indeed still alive, and hey, hi.
5. Signed up for the MS Walk in April. Nordic Boy's sister has MS as does a friend of ours, so if we can't get our asses out there for one morning to raise money/awareness, we really would need to be kicked in the derry-air. This year, my signing up was intolerably late due to my worky robotness. Stupid.
6. Made a list of people for whom I totally glossed over their birthday for the past three months and got them belated cards. Better late than never. I know, I am a freak about birthdays.
7. Started planning a trip to New York City. (NEW YORK CITY??? Get a rope!) I swear to god I can't not say that.
I would say that is a pretty good start to being human again.
Lately my life is as follows. Work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep. With watching The Bachelor thrown in when I can. Because I want Brad to choose the vampire lady with fangs. I mean, don't you?
In other news, it's my mama's birthday week. She's extraordinary. Because why? I'll tell you why.
1. My mom laughs with abandon. It is only after instances of witnessing my mom's laugh that I notice how little I really witness people laughing with abandon. She opens her mouth, throws her head back, and loud, infectious laughing rolls out. It's raucous and musical. I have yet to meet the hard-hearted soul who will not at least crack a smile when she gets going.
2. On a related note, my mom is high-larious. When you meet her she comes off as dignified and sort of elegant. She is well-mannered with a kind face. Underneath that though beats the heart of a 10 year old tomboy. There were times when I was in middle school (the only time in my life when I was slightly surly) and when I would take myself too seriously, she would throw her dinner roll at me across the room with a perfect pitcher's aim and bop me on the head. And then crack up at my surprise. Which would make me crack up and not take myself so damn serious. That's just good parenting, when I really think about it.
3. She is also one progressive mutha. She communicated with me about art and politics and history and race and gender and sexuality and class and nationality and all that good stuff since I was a child, and she was a proud voter, and she got me through girlhood with good body image, and she made sure I knew about safe sex, and she encouraged assertiveness, and creativity, and intelligence. I love her for many reasons, but that one ranks right up there at the top.
4. My mom was the key person in my development as a lover of pop culture. She was never judgmental about consuming pop culture, but she was always critically engaged with it. She is the reason I understood that Chrissy and Janet were unnecessarily portrayed as binary opposite models of womanhood- the dumb pretty one and the smart spunky one. And the reason I understood that daytime soap operas during that time were paragons of compulsory heterosexuality. And why I understood that the conflict between Pa Ingalls and Harriet Oleson was a not-so-subtle messed up commentary on patriarchy versus matriarchy. Why did I understand these things? Because she talked about them, sometimes in discussions with me, and other times via my overhearing her yelling at the tv screen. It's a two-way communication to her. And now, to me too.
5. My mom has style. She has this mod sensibility that I still love to this day. And she loves to dress up. It was sometime when she hit her mid-60s the first time I saw my mom wearing jeans. My mom does not wear jeans, yo. I asked her what was up, and she said that she thought that she might as well give it a try now- she had held out long enough. I have still never seen her in sweatpants, and I don't think that day is ever coming.
6. When I was growing up, any kids that needed a place to be were welcome at our house, and that's because of my mom. There were times that she fed some of my friends the only decent meal they were going to get that week. And the only positive adult attention. I had friends that would come to my house even when I wasn't there, just to hang out with my folks. She still remembers all of them, and remembers what their favorite dishes were.
7. I have always loved my mom's hands. They look sturdy and able and no nonsense. I have always hoped that my hands look like hers, but I can't see it yet. My hands still have nonsense.
8. She has always treated me like I am strong and capable, no question. She has nothing to say to me other than YOU CAN DO IT! And if mom thinks I can, I can. At least that's what I feel when I talk to her.
I wish you all knew my mom, you guys. I hope I grow up to be like her someday.
Saturday, I gotta tell you, I was feeling a bit blue. I worked at the library all day, which was a good day. The library was packed and I got to work out on the public floor helping patrons for a lot of my day and there is nothing like my job, sometimes, to make a person feel useful. Helping person after person, with all kinds of problems to be solved (what book to read next? how to write an effective resume? how to study for citizenship test? where are historical photos of my house? and on, and on, and on). There really isn't anything like it.
But still, I was blue.
The reason I was blue was because I knew that that very evening, my favorite Michigan girls were getting together for a birthday bash for Alli. They were going to meet up at a super fancy restaurant in Detroit (they do TOO have those in Detroit) for eatsie eatsie drinky drinky, and then stumble up to a block of rooms in the Westin in the wee hours for some semblance of shut-eye.
They, over there. And me, over here. I love Seattle, I really do. And I don't want to leave my adopted city. But at times like this? I want to tear my hair out for lack of a transporter. I WANTED TO GO SEE MY LADIES. SOOOOO BAD. Like, bad. Really, really bad. Bad.
I felt a little misty as I drove home from work that night, if you want to know what a big baby poopy pants I was being about the whole thing.
I got home, and I got into my pajamas, and Nordic Boy got us take-out Chinese food, and we settled in to watch the sixth Harry Potter movie (geek alert: we've been re-watching them all to prep for the new one coming out this month).
And that's when the texts started.
My Michigan girls, they totally didn't forget me. They texted me funny texts the whole. entire. night. They emailed me photos of them getting more and more sloshed as the night went on. My favorite is of Alli and Nicole, both holding up their glasses and laughing. Alli has her eyes half-closed, and Nicole is leaning on Alli so hard that her head is pretty much horizontal. Map sent me the photo with the caption "There will be puking."
So we texted back and forth while the party went on. And near the end of the night, they called me. Put me on speaker phone so I could hear their crazy sweet voices, and then took me off speaker phone and passed the phone around.
Those girls.
Here's the thing. If you are my peeps, you're my peeps. Unless you did something assholey and I have made an intentional decision to cut you out (and you'd know it if I did), you're staying my peeps. But one thing I don't do, the older I get, is conduct one-sided friendships. If I ask you to do something once, twice, three times (a lady...), and you don't respond to me? I'm going to stop asking, even though you, as far as I am concerned, are still my peeps. Because if you aren't thinking about me, or valuing my time, or my effort, then you're drawing a boundary for yourself there, and I totally respect that. My tactic when this happens is to just lay low, and still show the person that I am around if they want to see me, but I'm not chasing anyone. That's just a waste of time, really. Most of the time, people will drift away, but then eventually, they come back. That's the way life is. People get distracted by life, or they take people for granted, or they think they have outgrown the people who love them.
But then, there are some people that just don't let that shit happen.
Those are my Michigan girls. They don't get distracted by life. They don't get careless and then make excuses. They don't take me for granted. They grow and change, and I grow and change, and we all live very different lives now, but that doesn't break the bond, because the bond is tended. Not every day, but often, and always when it counts. For over thirty-fricking-years of our lives. The next time you let a day go by that you aren't honoring your friendships, think of these ladies. They are the gold standard. The best word I can think of for them is: true. They stay true to me.
Maybe that's where the term true friend comes from. I guess I had never thought about that before.
This week, I took two days off of work to celebrate the old Bee Day. It's sort of amazing how two extra days off can feel like a month. I decided that, for my birthday this year, I wanted to celebrate the super ordinary awesomeness in my life right now. What are some things that are super ordinary that I love about my life? I'll tell you.
1. Meeting up with friends
I finished up the actual birthday by going out on the town (by which I mean we sat in a bar) with a bunch of homies. We met up at 8:30, and were wrapping it up by midnight. I remember when my night used to start at midnight, ya'll. You should have seen how tired I was when I got home that night- it was comical. I was straight up stumbling into bed, motor skills evaporating, and it wasn't because I was drunk. It was because OMG IT'S AFTER MIDNIGHT SLEEP WHERE IS MY BED SLEEEEEEPY.
Did I mention that I am not 20 anymore? I always forget that.
On the other hand, I was talking to my brother on the phone at about 9pm and he was amazed, AMAZED, that I was out on a Thursday. "Your night is just starting?? We are about to go to bed now." So, according to some, I am still a young whippersnapper.
I went out with about 20 of my pals and they all bought me fancy drinks which in a way I felt bad about because I tend to be kind of picky about fancy drinks and so I ended up downing some kind of lemony shit that to my unsophisticated palette tasted like you might want to clean your toilet with it (lemon fresh scent!) rather than put it down your gullet. But that's just me. I am also the person who thought a Seagram's Wine Cooler was the height of tasty when I was in high school so you might not want to use me as a drink guide.
2. Shoes
On Friday I went and bought a new pair of shoes. As I was sitting there, a young cute dude struck up a conversation with me. Like, super cute. Ok, hottie hot hot. In my head, I am thinking "Cute boy, trying to talk to me? STILL GOT IT." Then he says to me: "I love those shoes. They're Anyi Lu's, right?" And I said, "Yeah, you're right."
I'm not one to stereotype, but we have to consider the fact that this might have been a gay fellow, yes? Not only the shoe thing, but the fact that he was striking up a conversation with me. What are the chances that a straight hottie, ten years younger than me, was trying to pick me up in the middle of the Nordstrom shoe department? Not a really high liklihood, is all I'm saying. But whatever the case, I am deciding to file that under "straight cutie who knows his shoes but was overpowered by my animal magnetism." We'll never know the truth, but that's how it's going into the history books, ok?
3. Hiking the city
I went on a long walk around my city. We have been having the most pleasant autumn this year. Just sunny, and crisp, and delightful. Sometimes Seattle can go from summer right into the grey winter of doom overnight, so this has been quite a treat.
4. Comfort food
Nordic Boy had a list of fancy suggestions for a birthday dinner out. "Anything you want to eat, we're going!" But what I really wanted? Was for him to just make me his spinach enchiladas and spanish rice. It's sometimes really weird when I think about how, for many people, comfort food is associated with something a parent or grandparent made for them growing up. For me it's the same- there are some things that my mom makes that I just want when I want to feel safe and loved. But over the years, more of that space in my belly is for stuff Nordic Boy makes for me. I guess it stands to reason- we have been taking care of each other for a long time now. So he made me his simple enchiladas. And then the next night? He made pot pies. Ordinary, but perfect.
5. Old movies
You know how I love me some old movies. A cinema in town is showing Hitchcock movies on the big screen. Um, heaven! We went to see "Vertigo." Seeing Jimmy Stewart be such a friggin' crackpot always kind of freaks me out. And Kim Novak's fake painted-on eyebrows on a screen that big? FRIGHTENING.
The next night Biogirl came over and we watched "An American In Paris." That big dance number at the end is kind of a hot mess, is it not? And the costumes at the Black and White party? A feast for the eyeballs. Why can't real life be like a Gene Kelly movie?
Pot pies, Gene Kelly dvd, present, and cupcakes. Heck yes.
6. My parents
My parents are just heartbreakingly sweet, you guys. On my birthday, my dad had to go back into the hospital, as he has to do sometimes now. My mom had called me that morning to wish me a happy birthday, and had said that my dad would call back later, since he wasn't feeling well. By the time I was ready to go out with my friends that night, I hadn't heard from him, so I knew something was up. I spent a few hours that evening on the phone with my mom, who was by then at the hospital with my dad, and then contacting my siblings and all that other stuff you do when things like that happen. When we were at the point where there wasn't anything more I could do, I left the house to go out with my friends. That's just what you learn to do when you have someone you love that's long-term sick. You figure out when you are needed and for that you drop everything. But when you aren't needed, you have to just keep living your life. So you do it. It's hard, it sucks, but there really isn't anything more to be done sometimes. Does it feel weird to be out hooting it up celebrating with my friends while my dad is in a hospital bed? Yes. Do I want to curl up in a ball and freak out sometimes? Yep. And sometimes I do. But most of the time, I get on with it. Mostly because I know that's what my dad wants me to do.
When my dad got out of the hospital over the weekend, he called me. And you know what he said? "Before we get into anything else, I want to hear all about your birthday." Did I mention heartbreakingly sweet?
So that's my Super Ordinary Everyday sort of birthday that I had. I didn't really do anything special. But yet it was all special. Ooh, deep.
My birthday is coming up, and I have barely given it a moment's thought, you guys. There was a time when I made a big hairy deal about my birthday. Party! Cake! Fancy outfit! Friends! Family! A present for myself! Field trips! Ah, me! I love you! I am a big believer in self love (dirty!).
You know what? I am trading all of that in. Well, most of it in. Technically, when I look at those things on that list I just made, I will still gladly partake of all of those things. I love cake! Who doesn't want cake? Nutpants people, that's who.
But here is the part of my birthday that I have given up. I no longer have any interest, whatsoever, in planning shit for my own birthday. I corral, organize, plan, administer all the livelong day at my job. And the thought of corralling, organizing, planning, or administering anything FOR FUN has just drained right out of me. I just don't want to do it. So if anyone wants to bring me ice cream on a platter, or give me presents, or what have you, I am totally down with that. But I ain't spending this here birthday organizing NOTHING, you dig?
I just wanted to be emphatic about that for a moment. Ok, I'm done now.
Ima now do a weekend wrap up, because the weekend was a glorious thing. First of all, I got home from work on Friday night to find a package from my parents containing cookies from my mom, and birthday money. Cookies and money! I do believe I have discovered the secret to birthday happiness.
On Saturday, who should show up at my front door but blogfriend @AnnieRauh! (Ok, well I invited her but I wanted to make it sound like more awesomeness kept showing up at my door unexpectedly, like the cookies and money). We walked to a neighborhood cafe for brunch where I only managed to talk about work for like 10 minutes (good job, me) and we also got maybe a small lecture from our waitress about the integrity of Annie's sandwich. I have since decided that "integrity of the sandwich" just might be a great band name. We then hiked over to a park (sorry, Midwestern Annie, for all the pesky hills) before she had to be on her way. I love blogfriends.
That night Nordic Boy and I went to see a dance show. One of the pieces we saw was Glass Pieces, which I have wanted to see live, full out ever since I was about 13 years old. And man oh man was it worth the wait. Jerome Robbins and Phillip Glass and super costumes and staging and sweet ass dancing. I was kind of high after I saw it. And can I just tell you how much I love that Nordic Boy dude, because he enjoys this stuff, and really gets it, and has come to so many shows with me over the years that he has developed a good eye and vocabulary about it all? I love all of my friends and family but I have got to say that the dance part of my brain can get awful lonely at times. It sort of hurts on a level that I can't quite explain. So there was a moment during the show where a particularly breathtaking piece of choreography happened, and Nordic Boy squeezed my hand, and it made me want to cry, in a good way. He not only was there, but he was enjoying it, and paying attention, and knew enough to see what I was seeing, and share that with me. Swoony.
On Sunday morning I met up with some lovely librarian ladies for brunch where ok, yes, we talked about work, but we talked about other things too. Hopscotch brought along her little baby cutie pie so we got some time in staring at him, which honestly I could do all day long. The cuteness on that kid would stop a train, I tell you.
After that I stopped over at Delium's house, where he hand delivered me a postcard that he wrote me while he was in Italy last week. Never let it be said that that man won't save money on postage. Then Biogirl and I went on a field trip to the burbs where we got lost in a mall parking lot. And then we got lost in a mall. Both Biogirl and I have a good sense of direction, but there is something about this particular place that makes us lose all sense of where we are. Luckily, we made it out alive.
Then Nordic Boy and I went to the recycling station at the local dump, as we sometimes do on a Sunday. Biogirl pointed out that this just might be the closest thing our family has to Sunday worship. Recycling at the dump. Amen.
Then Nordic Boy and I went to the mall (two different malls in ONE DAY, people. I am not a mall person, so this was truly spectacular). And, as we were walking through Nordstrom, Nordic Boy asked me if I was still having trouble finding a good pair of boots. To which I said YES, and also that I am breaking up with the boot industry for now. He then asked me where I had looked for boots, and I listed off every shoe store known to humanity, including online. Also including Nordstrom, where we were standing. And then, this happened.
Him: So you couldn't find anything at ANY of those places?
Me: Nope.
Him: Wow. That's a lot of places. You really looked in every one of those places?
Me: SCOURED.
Him: So you're just going to be bootless for now?
Me: I guess. I literally have perused every boot on earth.
Him: Well, I don't know. What about those?
And he pointed at this pair of boots. Right there in front of us. AND THEY WERE LOVELY.
Me: Wait, but, how?
Him: Those are cool, right?
Me: But! Wait, those were not here when I looked last week! Nor were they on the website! Where did they come from?
Him: I don't know. But I think you should try them on.
So I did, and they rocked, and I got them. Because Nordic Boy is apparently the Shoe Whisperer.
Sunday evening was spent on the couch watching tivo'd episodes of Stewart and Colbert. While eating my birthday cookies. And thinking about my new boots. That I bought with my birthday money. None of which I had to organize or orchestrate myself.
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