April 2013


I often wonder if I am a horrible person, because I just saw an animated gif of a bride in a wonderfully foofy dress, full veil, etc. walk down a flight of stairs only to trip on said dress and logroll down the stairs, to fetch up against her (I think) groom’s feet.

Oh Dear.

This gif made me bark-laugh into the silence of my living room, home alone, and watch it loop through a good six more times.

I recently got new women’s multi-vitamins, because I assume I don’t eat enough food to get the nutrients I probably need in enough quantity.  I am just not that dedicated, especially when what is needed exists in pill form to save me time and effort.  Also money, because good food is aspenseeve.  Plus, I’d have to like, prepare the food?  Tough stuff, here.
So the new vitamins are a lovely lavender color, and I can’t help but think the color is purely because they are women’s multi-vitamins.  I furthermore think the men’s multi-vitamins are a manly blue, or perhaps camo pattern.  Yup. That is all.

In dance class watching myself in the mirror doing squats thinking, “my hair looks like a jellyfish right now.”

I do not have fleas or poison oak, in case you were wondering.  I have an itch for change.  It happens every year.  It happens around January-February, when the winter has been long and dreary and the fun of Christmas and holidays have gone.  I get itchy and restless and nothing is good enough.  I pick fights with Nikolai and I fidget, color my hair or cut it.  This year we did a quick weekend at the coast with friends in dreary winter, so that forestalled the itch.

I have it now.  I have been mentally prepared to be purchasing a house and moving, but that change isn’t happening, which is having an odd effect of making me crave change because I was prepared for some and it hasn’t come.  I know what my cure will be, though.  Well, I have about three options lined up in my mind.  I’ll either dream about them until the itch fades, or the house thing will actually happen (no it won’t) and take up my need for change. First option: meet with a tattoo artist to consult on the next tattoo I want.  I have had vague ideas for a few years now, and I would like to make them a bit more solid.  I need to at least find an artist I want to work with first, and that’s fun.

I could start hiking every weekend or after work on nice days.  I could sign up for a few more parkour classes.  I could sign up for some crazy classes at my dance studio.  Mostly I want to do the tattoo thing.  Probably because I have three tattoo projects in line in my head, and I want to do them in order so I have to get started.  Someone, chime in!  Give me an opinion!

Don’t worry, I have no intention of getting philosophical here. I just wanted to say that I survived my abnormal exercise week, not without vast quantities of whimpering, ibuprofen, and sympathy-mongering. However I and my body are better for it. Turns out that whole “fitness” and “exercise” racket was on to something.  Go figure.

I did a parkour class today.  If you need me to wait while you Google it, that’s fine.

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all caught up?  Great.

I took a class at a gym owned by one friend from high school, and managed by another.  They happen to be brother and sister, which is cool.  It was a ladies only class, so that was also pleasant.  I have at least five bruises from my time there, the first occurring when I attempted to, as all the other ladies in my group had, run up a “warped” (curved) wall to grab a ledge and muscle myself up onto said ledge.  I failed and slid dramatically back down a few times; I think about four but in retelling it became six because that allowed me more sass-leverage over the instructor.  I banged my knee but good the first time, but at the end of every slide I did finish well, posing at the bottom in various ways: dead flail, savior on a cross, I’m a star, feel my shame.  Next up was vaulting, where I was supposed to use my arms to help propel me “safely” over a sort of triangular structure that resembled a long ziggurat mixed with a pommel horse.  After careening into/over that a few times, we got to try a different, taller vault with no padding on top.  sure, instructor who does this all day and has done for years, I’ll just run a short step up the side of this. . .thing? and flail on over.  It’s totally a natural maneuver!  It just feels right!  Then we ran at a wall, upon which I splatted and dangled, and got to scamper through an entire piece of scaffolding as we wished.  there were also large tires.  I ran around several obstacles, but I did do a poledancing twirl on one of the scaffolding uprights.  I’m pretty proud of that. I don’t know where all of my bruises will be when they finally color up, but I know that I will be doing that class again.  As long as the one teacher-fellow doesn’t make jokes about inevitable catfights to a group of women he’s just met.  All the vaulting and freerunning in the world will not get you safely away from a group of women you’ve just pissed off, Sweetcheeks. Best of luck and godspeed.

We’ll never find a house. I realize this is a globally ridiculous thing to whine about, but I don’t care enough to change right now.  This matters to me.  Around November of last year, Nikolai and I decided we felt comfortable looking for a house to purchase.  So, we found a great mortgage lady and ran the numbers to see 1- if we could even qualify for a loan, and 2 – what dollar amount we could look at for a mortgage.  I have never been more excited to look at 30 years of debt in my life.

We got approved, got a tentative dollar amount, she showed us what the principal and interest plus insurance would be, and we settled on an amount below what we could get.  Next up? All we had to do was find a house, right?

Well, it seems as if that is rather impossible.  I mean, if we’re willing to live in the worst parts of town, at least a 30 minute drive from work, friends, and church, or way out in the boonies, then yes we totally can get a house for our set amount.  But I don’t want to do that.  I want to find a house near where our lives are already happening, because if I have to pretend to be grown up, I am going to do at least some of it on my terms!

Our awesome realtor created a report that automatically sends us an email with any houses that come up in the area we want, in the price range we want.  It’s been like two weeks since something came up that wasn’t in a 55+ specialty neighborhood.  I’ve been trying to keep my head by imaginary-decorating, and “choosing” pets on the Oregon Humane Society website, but mostly I’m just getting sad in the face.  Basically, I am sad that my life is carrying on normally. Someone explain this to me.