But... what will I use to prop up all my folded empty boxes?

I'm now down to selling stuff on Craig's List. Need a pretty decent computer desk? A corduroy chair your cat will love?

I'm also giving stuff away. 120 empty CD cases, mostly in good condition, free for the starving art project or musician.

I did get a bite on the bar stools for sale... But after giving away the small dinette set this afternoon to a coworker, they're all that's available to hold up the pile of empty folded boxes that I have to keep propped against the wall or Her Majesty will sit on them and scratch the hell out of them and render them utterly useless for packing.

You just don't know. Moving is complicated.

I can relate.

Yesterday morning at the airport I bought a copy of SPIN to read about REM's new album and how they agree with the world that the last three albums were not very good. I haven't downloaded the new one yet but I plan to as soon as I free up some space on my hard drive...

Anyway, there was also an interview with Kim Deal. In speaking of her newish-found sobriety, she made this comment:

"In the beginning, it was just weird to be sober. I was stunned by the length of the day. You just wake up, and you're like, 'okay,' and then ten hours later, you're like, 'is this ever going to @#$%ing end? God, what do people do with their @#$%ing day, man?'"

I've been up for 6 hours. It's noon. I have done everything I wanted to get done today. If not for late lunch plans, I'm really not sure what I would do.

________________
I know, I KNOW I keep talking about this, I'm sorry. But really, it sucks. I just need to start running again and all will be well with my sleep habits.

And of course I'm kidding in that last part - I have a mile-long list of things I want to do before I leave the Bay Area...

OH. MA. GA.

Are you sitting down? Sit down. OK, ready?

My dad has a gmail account.

{pause}

MY DAD HAS A GMAIL ACCOUNT! Sorry, but this is just very unexpected and exciting news.

There was even mention in his gmail email (ge-mail?) of perhaps getting a cell phone... Which just begs the question, who are those people and what have they done with my parents?!?!

What a long, strange day it's been.

It went a little something like this:

4:30am - wake up with a start, toss and turn, try valiantly to go back to sleep.

5:00am - give up and get up... make coffee, check email, check in for return flight this evening.

5:30am - oatmeal time.

6:00am - check Portland weather, check bag for cashier checks and all other required lease-signing information for the NINETEEN MILLIONTH TIME... finally clean the oven which was sprayed with Easy Off about a week ago and hasn't been used since.

6:45am - shower and get ready.

7:30am - pace... play with cat... check bag for cashier checks and all other required lease-signing information for the TWENTY MILLIONTH TIME.

7:45am - leave for airport... no traffic, yay.

9:35am - leave for Portland... no canceled flight, yay.

11:05am - arrive in Portland... no rain, yay.

11:15am - head to Lloyd Center to kill some time and buy "something" for the apartment, just because I wanted to leave a newly purchased decorative item to watch over the place while I wasn't there.

12:30pm - purchase cute silver photo frame from Marshalls... eat lunch... try to read and kill more time.

1:00pm - head to 2pm signing appointment at apartment ten blocks from Lloyd Center.

1:10pm - arrive at apartment where neighborhood cats are happy to greet me... realize I'm not in Oakland when they all have tags and owners and are just friendly little kitties instead of feral rabid beasts... look at my watch, sigh, then continue up Broadway to see what else I'll be within walking distance of, in addition to Peets and the MAX and crazy ice-rink mall I will never shop at (other than today)... scrapbook store, tattoo shop, vet, 2 brewpubs, 1 pizza place quite highly ranked, 3 movie theaters, lots of interesting restaurants, Fred Meyer (my new BFF)... SCORE... head back.

2:00pm - sign lease and all other required paperwork... hand over my cashier checks... point out hole in floor and make guy write it down ("I did not do that!")... see guy to the door.

2:20pm - FREAK OUT completely.

2:30pm - measure rooms and document layout for later furniture placement planning... lament proximity of exterior garbage bins to living room windows... lament 4 pairs of outlets in the whole joint (apparently people didn't need too much electricity in the 1930s when the place was built?)... further lament that only one of them is a 3-prong pair of outlets... think of all my electrical needs and FREAK OUT again... realize all the rooms are well lit so no lamps are needed (three outlets free - woohoo!)... wonder what I'm going to do about my electric toothbrush (hmm).

3:30pm - start off on a nice long walk to explore and CALM THE HELL DOWN (people do this every day... the lamenting will only serve as incentive for me to begin the house hunt shortly after relocating... etc etc).

3:35pm - realize that I'll be living in a neighborhood called "Sullivan's Gulch" (really)... wonder who I am all of the sudden... remember the neighborhood cats who lounge on car hoods and trot up to say hello... decide it's a lot like Alameda... decide it's all good.

4:30pm - circle back, hit Fred Meyer for miscellaneous necessities and the latest Portland Magazine featuring all kinds of articles on why it's the best time EVER to buy a house in Portland and restaurants I would kick myself for missing out on.

5:00pm - drop stuff off, spend another 30 minutes FREAKING OUT trying to visualize all my crap fitting into this place.

6:00pm - give up, head to Rogue Brewery for celebratory beer and pizza... read Portland Magazine... calm down.

7:15pm - head to airport.

9:05pm - leave for Portland.

11:00pm - wonder how many more times I will actually walk up the stairs to my Oakland apartment... FREAK OUT.

________________
I've done day trips for work before, but usually with laptop in tow and always within the same state. It was quite surreal to do all of this today, and still I'm amazed that nothing has gone wrong. The more things go right, the worse the "wrong" thing is gonna be whenever it happens... (Still freaking out. But in a very tired way. And I think, a very happy way. I definitely grinned when I saw the pine trees on the train from the airport to downtown.)

Voluntary unemployment, day #2.

Got up around 6am (what is it with this getting older crap??). Made some coffee. Putzed around getting things together for today's errands. Worked on a volunteer thing for a bit.

Went to lunch at a local favorite taqueria, then walked around the lake in hopes of a) exercise and b) baby geese sightings (too early still?). Came home, showered, pulled the hair back (ahhh the joys of 15 minutes to get ready) and went to the blood donation appointment. Got denied (darn hemoglobin!), walked up and down College Avenue wondering what all those other daytime wanderers did for a living, spent approximately 90 minutes in two bookstores. Bought some books including a SF restaurant cookbook. I already have plans for my first week in Portland, when I will be jobless and hungry and yearning for the tastes of SF.

I was restless, though. I thought about sitting down in a cafe to peruse my new book with a latte, or sitting down at a cafe to have a snack and peruse my new book. It wasn't the money-spending that turned me off from those ideas. It was the idea of SITTING.

Unless TV is involved, I am not a sitter. I need to be on the move, checking things out, constantly, well - on the move. I was saddened to realize today that I could never be one of those writer folks who spends hour upon hour at a coffee shop poring over their latest potential novel. Unless there was wireless, and I had a laptop with wireless, at which point all bets are OFF.

Later - watched my cat get exploded upon for no reason whatsoever by the kitty water purifier. PRICELESS, although I do hope she will ever consider drinking again after the trauma... Injections of hydration ain't pretty.

And now, making a pizza and drinking some wine in prep for my one-day trip to sign a lease which I am totally prepped for.

Still waiting for the bomb to drop - this is all still WAY too easy - but otherwise, loving life.

Mid-week Friday five.

And now for something completely different - five things I absolutely covet from the NY MOMA's spring catalog, which I would never buy for myself but which would go on a wedding registry (hell, probably even a baby registry) in a heartbeat, in no particular order:

• Yagani flatware
• Mosaic placemats (but not the coasters so much)
• Lizard organizer
  
• Garland table lamp
• Tripod trivet
  

I also kinda like the index chopping boards but they didn't make the cut. They might get gross after a while anyway.

Pot Kettle Black.

If Wilco were doing a live show tonight, and if they were the type to dedicate songs to politicians, I suspect they would dedicate Pot Kettle Black to Mrs. Clinton and Mr. McCain, and all their advisors and spouses and supporters, from Mr. Obama with love... (Live in a cave? Read all about it here.)

Let the record show that I am so effing sick of Hillary Clinton. If it's her vs. McCain, veep candidate depending, I will probably consider voting for McCain. And that's saying A LOT.

(Oh wait - I could just vote for Nader. That'll show 'em. Riiiiiiiiiiiiight. Oh, Ralphie, sigh...)

What I would LOVE to see, is rural America's response to this. You know - bitter, clingy rural America. Who have no jobs because all their jobs have been off shored so that the suits can make a profit, who can barely feed their families because only the crazy SF (OK, and Portland) liberals care about buying locally and organic, who risk their lives at war or at sea because there are no better ways to make a living given the tanked economy that started its downfall with "Reaganomics." Heaven forbid they hold on tight to their God and their guns and hope that something better comes along.

(Disclaimer: read yesterday's post - I'm not smart, I don't claim to be smart, I react to news, and especially politics, based on emotion... Just like most of America, for what that's worth. Correct me if you must.)

I searched for a while for such a response, but other than some content on Obama's web site the best I could come up with was a couple snippets from the 622 comments (and counting) about the SF Gate article, which turned out to be way more amusing than any truly relevant comments I ran across. Here are a couple favorites, typos and all:

• "Help me figure this one out- Hillary and Bill practically live at Susie Buells house, Hillary has raised more money from SF liberal elite then anyone and she is supported by the gay marriage mayor for pete shakes and she now drops "San Francisco" like a pejorative term..." (my official new exclamation - "oh for pete SHAKES!!")
• "if obama loses he will move to the napa valley, build a house made out of earth, and open a vegetarian restaurant which serves brie and chablis" (um, I'll take my brie with a fine cab, thank you very much)
  
• "Yes, we're so "elite". In fact, we're so "elite" that over 60% of San Franciscans have to rent and can't afford to buy their own home. We're so "elite" that we have chronic homeless problem. We're so "elite" that we're so exclusive that we don't exclude anybody for any reason. Yeah, we're "elite", all right. By the way, "elite" means "the best or most skilled members of a group". So I guess this all means we're being trashed by the worst and least skilled members of our society... yeah, good to see that the old Roman tradition of catering to the mob is very well alive and well in modern America. I have to go be "elite" now. Bye." (and it all comes back to the SF motto!)
  
• "SF is tolerant my @$$. Just try being a Christian, or a conservative, or try supporting our President in SF. SF is tolerant of those who agree with their liberal policies. If you don't tow the line, SF is the most INtolerant of cities." (a few close friends would probably wholeheartedly agree with this comment, and I can't disagree with it either.)
  

I will say this - my parents used to be conservative. Twelve years of Reagan/Bush, two layoffs and retirement with a very meager Social Security payment later, they have switched teams. And now, talking with them about politics is a treat.

And I will say this - my rural country relatives refer to "California" as some foreign exotic country whenever I go home to visit.

I will also say this - I think those who offer the criticism that his comments could've been just as easily directed at inner cities, are right on.

Next I will say this - Obama is not good with off the cuff speeches but he's brilliant with pre-orchestrated speeches... JUST LIKE EVERY PRESIDENT SINCE KENNEDY. Cut him a little slack already. At least he doesn't make up words.

And finally, I will say that if Wilco were doing a live show and dedicated some songs to Mr. Obama, they would have quite a few to choose from:

• Misunderstood
• Shouldn't Be Ashamed
• That's Not the Issue
• What's The World Got In Store
• Christ for President
• On and On and On
• Let's Not Get Carried Away

... and hey, if Wilco* endorses him, I think I'm sold. OBAMA 2008!

________________
* The idea that Wilco endorses him is completely fabricated by the author... although I think it might be true.

I think you need to fire Bob in marketing.

In today's mail I got a preview of Ode magazine - a self-proclaimed "magazine for intelligent optimists." OK...

A) being an "intelligent optimist" is basically impossible in today's world, in fact it's somewhat of an oxymoron to me, and

B) I am really neither, and especially not both combined, when all is said and done. I don't even need the "non-optimist" disclosure, and I am not smart enough to read Utne, the Economist... I don't even bother with Time anymore. Occasionally I'll hit the BBC news web site, but if it's depressing, or requires some knowledge of historical events, or doesn't feature a cute baby animal, or requires any significant level of thought, I ask my smart friends for the summary. And then I go Dishing.

Next thing you know, I'll be getting a preview of FUD, the magazine about government organization, or Ego, the magazine about things that are of medium large size. Or perhaps Jonx, the quarterly periodical about authentic replicas people take to the Antiques Roadshow only to be told they're worth about $0.50.

________________
Make your own magazine! Take an oxymoron, then find a hip word that somewhat resembles the oxymoron in the Urban Dictionary to use for the magazine name... Or start with the dictionary and then find an oxymoron that fits. It's fun!

Er... I suppose it's even more fun if you're unemployed...

Apparently, I am not one of them...

... because I didn't really get it.

It felt unbearably long at a mere 95 minutes, and it was a bit like Dan In Real Life, which I did not particularly like... But it had some redeeming qualities (the main one being Thomas Haden Church's performance) and it was not about effed up middle class people bitching and moaning. One small step for Hollywood.

At least being in a stale-air enclosed movie theater made my allergy/sinus headache go away for a little bit. (I really thought it was a slight hangover from yesterday's BBQ, but 44 oz of water and all the right foods later, and still all I really want is to remove the front part of my brain with a hack saw, or whatever will do the trick in a timely and efficient manner...)

Belated Friday five.

People keep asking me what I'm going to miss about the Bay Area. Other than the obvious - my friends - I don't really have an answer for them. So I gave it some thought, and I hereby post five things I will miss about the Bay Area, other than the obvious one, in no particular order:

• KFOG's Kaboom
• watching the fog roll in from the East Bay
  
• SF's annual Pride parade (at least I will be able to stream Live 105's KGAY, which is sometimes even more fun than watching the parade)
  
• the Fillmore, the Great American Music Hall, the Greek Theater, Bottom of the Hill
  
• taking first-time visitors to Muir Woods to be wowed by the massive redwoods

So, dear readers, if you were leaving the Bay Area, what would you miss the most? Other than the obvious, of course...

As an aside, last night I went to another "last time we'll get together" gathering with some friends (there have been at least three "last time we'll get together" gatherings just with this group of friends - and we're still talking about getting together for lunch "one last time"). Nine hours, many drinks, one fire pit construction, too much food and one mustache shaving later, armed with photos to remember everything, I started my car and the radio played the last chorus of "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)."

Strangely coincidental, or serendipitous? Given the added Seinfeld connection, I'm going with the latter.

"You don't need a million dollars to do nothing, man."

I am officially unemployed.

Voluntarily officially unemployed.

In today's economy that just seems so wrong. But not wrong enough to stop me from enjoying the "doing nothing" part for the next few weeks.

"Pleasure, of course, is a slippery word... Our pleasures ultimately belong to us, not to the pleasure's source.”

Last night I learned from Billy Collins that I am supposed to steal from others and twist their creativity to fit my own style. OK, not really, but something like that.

So I have to say, I would've called it "BSG budget gets drastically slashed," or even "MST3K budget gets drastically slashed (which may or may not be redundant)" but hey, whatever.

And to also surprisingly quote Billy Collins, sort of - I was like OMG hahahaha!

I know this, yet still I look, every single day, and laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

Thus ends the pop culture references for the evening.

"I don't know where I'm gonna live, don't know if I'll find a place."

About 30 minutes into the drive up to Portland I listened to one of those aforementioned "old tapes" from Beach Week 1992. That was fun. (Really!)

One song from that tape stood out to me - Matthew Sweet's Divine Intervention. I think that set the tone for the entirely-too-unnecessarily-stressful week.

For starters, I got to the cute-but-cheap Vancouver motel at 7pm Sunday night only to realize that there was only wireless access, and the laptop I borrowed from work appeared to not have wireless (not that I even knew what wireless looked like on a laptop - punchline to follow). OH MY GOD PANIC DID ENSUE. How the hell would I log on to Craigs List or the property management company I'd been working with? Oh yeah, and I was supposedly "working" for 3 of the 4 days I was on the road - how would I deal with THAT without wireless?

I stopped by the motel office ("yeah, um, is there, like, a Best Buy around here somewhere?") and headed up the street to get a USB wireless gadget. Along the way I saw a FedEx Kinkos and a library, and figured - hell, if I can't get this laptop thing figured out I can just hang out there for a couple hours...

And my heartbeat and racing pulse immediately slowed, and it was right then that I realized that no matter how stressful this whole interstate move might be in the end, I can FUCKING HANDLE THIS SHIT. It was quite a revelation. I do not jest - I slept like a baby under this revelation Sunday night.

(And the next morning on the phone with the Help Desk guys, turns out the laptop did have wireless, which just made the whole problem laughable - and entirely sleepable.)

The rest of the trip was tolerably stressful - what with the not knowing my applicant status on the apartment I really wanted, but still valiantly searching but not really wanting the rest of the apartments I saw in that short three days. Wednesday afternoon after looking at a small studio while (STILL) waiting to hear back from the apartment I really wanted, I mentally resolved myself to another road trip to Portland, and yes, things don't always work out well the first time around, and... and that would be OK.

And I think I grew a lot mentally on this last trip. And I think I got the apartment I really wanted, which just makes this whole story pointless, but... Not really. The next year is going to be a huge challenge for me. Knowing I made it this far helps... A LOT.

"Marriage is like a tense, unfunny version of Everybody Loves Raymond, only it doesn't last 22 minutes. It lasts forever. "

I took my portable DVD player with me when I drove to Portland. I was sorta thinking that if I got bored with my music, I had two DVDs (Knocked Up and OT: Our Town) that required no actual viewing, just listening, so I could put the DVD player on the seat next to me and pass the time listening to the movies, accident-free, just fine.

And more important than being accident-free, getting these out of my queue would put me THAT MUCH CLOSER to a few more episodes of Battlestar Gallactica Season 3, which I have the first couple episodes of, and which I really need to catch up on so that I can start watching Season 4 in a reasonable amount of time.

But with all my excellent preplanned music I didn't need to do any of that. However, Tuesday night I did watch Knocked Up. I guess I would just have to say... Meh. I got the "everyday man/woman" references, with the goofball dialogue and "it could happen to anyone" situation... But otherwise...

{can you call these spoilers? if you are HOLDING YOUR BREATH to watch this movie, skip to the next post, I guess}

... I would love to think that an unemployed waif would agree to father a child with a one-night stand, and that the career-driven female party in this one-night stand would consent to stick it out with him for nine months despite all the obvious lacks of commitment on the unemployed waif's part but... I just don't think it happens in real life.

So I guess I hereby change my review from Meh to Bah.

Until I meet the completely different guy who knocks me up and disagrees with me on minor shit, who doesn't read the fucking baby books, but then ends up reading the baby books, that I end up marrying. When that happens I take this whole post back.

Have I mentioned that Yet. Another. Friend. Is pregnant?

I love other peoples' kids dearly and all, but... I think I'll just run another marathon.

"I forget what eight was for."

So for some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to go to the 2008 Whiskey Expo the night before I drove 19,000 hours to Portland. Except for a little fuzziness while packing the next morning, it turned out to be fine in the end.

And in the beginning, and in the middle as well. I lost track of what we'd tasted about 2.5 hours into it, but I was happy to follow my far-more-knowledgeable-about-whiskey (but no-less-drunk) companions' leads to continue tasting. And unlike the last WOW, where apparently we attended several lectures but I really only recall one of them, I do remember everything that happened last Saturday night. (Helpful hint: drink a gallon of water and eat several LARGE MEALS the day of the next WOW. You won't be sorry.)

I do recall missing some folks on the departing "I love you man!"s as we parted ways on BART, but suffice to say - I love you all dearly and I very much look forward to WOW 2009. That's an event worth coming "home" for.

And to everyone else - try the Alchemist's Macallen. YUM, and affordable. Unlike the YUM, and $800-a-bottle others I would also highly recommend...

Early Friday five.

Much to tell. But too tired to tell it. Let me start with an early Friday five, and a bonus early Friday five, and then I'll tell the rest this weekend.

Ahem.

Five things I would say to almost all the I-5 drivers I encountered this week, in no particular order:

• What part of "slower traffic keep right" are you having trouble with?
• It's called CRUISE CONTROL. Use it. It's your friend, especially on those pesky hills.
• If there are no cars behind me for miles, you really CAN wait another 5 seconds to go around the semi, instead of squeezing yourself into the 20 foot gap between me and the car in front of me and forcing me to end my cruising. (Every time I step on the brake while using MY FRIEND CRUISE CONTROL, God kills a puppy. You know that, right?)
  
• If there are no cars in front of me for miles, you really CAN go around me instead of riding my ass for 5 miles straight. Really. You can.
  
• It's called RAIN. You live in OREGON. 55 mph? COME ON, already.

And the bonus Friday five - which is really a "Friday one" split into five, but who's counting: five signs you know you're in Medford, OR, in no particular order:

• You pass a strip mall, which features
  
• a store called "Good Guys Guns," which is next to
• a liquor store, which is next to
• an "Adult Shop, open 24 hours," which is next to
• the Hometown Buffet.

Ahhh, small towns.

The long and winding road.

I have 8 days of music on my now fully charged iPod. I made several new playlists of music I've been meaning to pay more attention to. I made a special "road trip" playlist with lots of upbeat songs. And I pulled out all my old tapes from previous road trips - those always bring back good memories.

Notwithstanding the foregoing, I expect to hate ALL of my music somewhere around Chico tomorrow.

Sigh. At least the drive from that point on should be pretty.

Gaaaar.

Overheard in New York... I wish I had thought of this genius concept. (The web site overall, not asking drunk pirates to pay in doubloons.)

On a related note, I told someone, "not sure, I wonder if I'll get Knocked Up today," in response to their question about what my Friday evening plans were. My follow-up statement ("I mean, I hear it's funny") did not help to clarify things, so I just walked away...

Wait... something worth watching on MTV? The end is near!!

LOST was a rerun tonight so I scanned the channels looking for good background fodder while I packed away another box or four, after getting home from "going away party" number 5. (There are 2 more to come. I hope I actually do really go away, at some point. Otherwise these people might be pissed.)

Unfortunately, it ended up being just one box packed because I found this, and got TOTALLY SUCKED IN for numerous hours. (But I packed during the commercials.)

First let me say that I'm a sucker for anything that generates camaraderie. Like, at a U2 show, when they turn the microphones off and the crowd sings along with the chorus to "One," I get a little weepy. I think it's because I'm in the presence of a few folks who have the power to make 30,000 folks memorize their song lyrics, and that's a pretty overwhelming thought. (It also happened at the last Beastie Boys show I went to. 30,000 folks chanting along to Paul Revere. Some might find that scary, I was comforted.) Or like, when an audience gives a standing ovation for the actors in a play, I am often overcome with emotion.

SO. That said, I watched this live dance-off tonight and got a little weepy - several dozen people creating such a commotion amongst many young (and my age) Americans. Would the gymnastics experts overcome the group who lost a group-mate a few months ago? Both groups - hell, all the groups reunited tonight for the live finale - totally ROCKED OUT.

And made me weepy.

Then again, my hormones are all off this week...

Once again - NO CABLE IN PORTLAND. BAD. CABLE BAD.

Almost (but not really almost) Friday five.

Five reasons I am feeling awfully optimistic today (and parenthetical blah blah blahs), despite waking up at 4am to fret for 3 hours about the impending EVERYTHING, in no particular order:

• a potential job I wouldn't exactly hate (second interview next week!)
  
• two friends on the verge of not being crotchety old single ladies, as I currently expect to be (they give me hope!)
• health care coverage through the end of April (never again will I quit a job at the end of a month!)
  
• emailing a bunch of property management/moving companies about apartment hunting and moving quotes (seriously thinking I'm gonna outsource this puppy - everything about it - to save my sanity!)
  
• last time feeling like my voice went unheard at the management meeting this morning (and first time feeling like it might not have gone unheard, which is sad and ironic after 13 months - but true...!)

There have been many other "lasts" in the past few weeks but this last "last" felt the most significant. I'm glad my coworkers have dropped the whole "you don't care - you're leaving" bit, because really, after 10 years of investment in this organization, I DO care. And I will continue to care.

Note to self.

Adding one full tablespoon of red chili pepper flakes to the homemade tofu version of Trader Joe's General Tso's Chicken (the sauce is a bit bland) was a bit too much. (AS IN, OMG WAAAAAAAAAAH MY MOUTH IS ON FIRE too much.) But I confidently recommend adding one HALF tablespoon of red chili pepper flakes (and a handful of fresh broccoli) to make it a genuine spicy sauce.

And another note to self - it is probably some sort of abomination to cook deep fried tofu with sugar-and red-chili-pepper infused sauce while watching The Biggest Loser, but I'm OK with that. After all, I'm going to join a running group when I move really, really soon. Or if nothing else, lots of the apartment complexes seem to have fitness centers. And hey, broccoli was involved. Thrive.

One small step for mankind.

Look - progress!

(Yes, I'm so proud of packing my 75 remaining "frequently played" CDs - the other 350 were packed into plastic storage bins two Superbowls ago - that I needed to take a picture of it and show you guys. And now I really must take a break to watch the third Planet Earth DVD because I've had it for over two weeks now, and it's making me anxious just sitting there implying that I don't care enough about it to pop it in. Or maybe I should watch Rent in honor of the end of the Broadway stint.

I am starting to get the feeling that this is going to be a long, painful move...)

"They can't all be ballads, Julian."

I took a walk to the far away drugstore this afternoon to get some supplies that would help me in my whittling down (no, I wasn't procrastinating, the closer-by drugstore didn't have what I needed... and yes, it's ironic that I needed to buy things to help me get rid of things).

ANYWAY, Kimya Dawson accompanied me on my iPod. I couldn't help but think that the mostly upbeat but completely somber songs were so inappropriate for such a lovely day. (Another fine reason why I'm moving to Portland. "Goin' where the climate suits my songs...")

It reminded me of my freshman year of college. Pearl Jam's "Ten" came out a few months earlier, and on any given sunny afternoon you could walk through the quad and hear "Porch" or "Black" blaring from a dorm room's open window. It was such a refreshing change from Bob Marley or the Grateful Dead, also prevalently wafting out of dorm room windows that year. (And every year prior and every year to follow, I would imagine.)

So for a little while today I felt slightly hip, or at least 10 years younger. And it was good.

Mwah hah hah...

Hah. Haha... Still laughing.

What's YOUR blog's reading level?

Add to dictionary. ADD! ADD!

I was writing an email to someone today and mentioned how nice it was to work for a Christian-based organization because we got Good Friday off. (Yay, Jesus! Oh - I mean... sorry, Jesus! It'll be allllll good on Sunday, promise.)

Anyway, I misspelled "Christian" and instead of correcting the spelling manually, I right clicked for the auto-corrected spelling. None of the choices was remotely close (which was odd, I didn't misspell it that much!) and one of the choices was actually "Antichrist." I'm not kidding.

It reminded me of the time I spell checked an email to a non-native-born coworker and the spell checker didn't recognize his name. Right clicking revealed that one of the suggested replacements was a word that had no business being in the company spell checker's "suggestion" list.

I won't do a link or a quote or anything because I don't want the virus bots to attack my or your precious machines, but here's a hint: it's one of the words within the song from the Hair soundtrack whose title is illegal in several dozen states. (I almost googled how many states it was actually illegal in, and thought better of that as well.)

[pause while the realization that this was in the company's "suggestion" directory kicks in]

... I KNOW!!

"I don't need you to Hollywood me home!"

I have no idea what that quote means. It's from Catch and Release, a predictable yet tolerable comedy/romance... as long as your definition of "tolerable" is "playing in the background while catching up on 19 back issues of various magazines."

Yeah, I have no idea what that quote means. But she said it while very drunk as someone escorted her out of the bar.

So naturally, I hereby dedicate it to whoever is forced to deal with me after the WOW next weekend...

"What if you were offered some kind of a stock option equity sharing program. Would that do anything for you?"

I have my first Portland job interview today. It's a phone interview, obviously, and I'm hoping that the vet was right this morning and that Her Majesty will get sleepy from the vaccinations pretty soon instead of doing her usual conference call thing (sitting at my feet meowing while the people on the phone laugh, then sigh, then "JEEZ!" over the course of the call).

The interview is with my former company, for a job I know I could do and probably wouldn't mind doing for a little while. I'm not getting my hopes up, especially because I could NOT do the job and NOT mind NOT doing the job, and also I think their hiring time frame is not going to work with my current plans.

The main question I have for her is whether I'd still be within the time frame to start accruing vacation days at 7 weeks/year (which is what I had when I left).

I suppose I ought to think of some other, more thoughtful questions...

I iz jest life imitatin art.

It started today at the volunteer gig with Felix. Then the kittehs... er, kittens, then Paisley, and so on, and so on... And it ended with Her Majesty.

"Oh hai."

I couldn't help it. It just came out naturally. Automatically, in fact. Oh hai Felix. Oh hai kitteh. Kitteh! No bite! Bad kitteh!

I wonder when I will be able to say a normal "oh, hi" again.

In related news, the gig is going well. I was worried that it would make me sad, all those poor cats in need of a good home. But actually there's great turnover so while I'm sad that Oliver, Slow Bear (aka Riley Reincarnated), Dorothy*, etc. have been adopted, I am of course thrilled for them... I dread the day when Felix will not be there. He's my current fave. It's kitten season so perhaps he'll be around a little longer.

I'm also on a new kick to foster cats after Her Majesty becomes a dearly departed (because lord knows she wouldn't have any of that nonsense while she was still alive and well). There's something appealing about socializing a cat to ready them for adoption, then giving them away and having your life back. (Which is, coincidentally, my approach to kids, generally speaking. Hmm.)

But the best part about this gig is the confused look on Her Majesty's face when I come home smelling like 20 different cats instead of my neighbors' two. Priceless.

_________________
* OK seriously, who names a cat Dorothy?

And in the words of the great Jon Stewart...

"And so, at 11am on a Tuesday, a prominent politician spoke to Americans about race... as though they were adults."

The entire speech seemed utterly unrehearsed, unscripted, unteleprompted - even though he glanced down a lot and looked left and right only, it seemed as though he'd spoken these words millions of times before. If only Hilary was remotely as eloquent. I really, truly hope this ends well.

More here. (Crib notes here.)

In today's news...

... is anyone other than me befuddled at (irritated with, morbidly appalled by, etc.) John Corbett's new Applebee's commericals? (I kind of agree about the JC Penny Plant/Krauss sellout too, but it doesn't bother me quite as much.)

Oh and also - I waaaaaaaaaaaant one. Mainly to see how it actually helps you brainstorm topics for essays, but still...

And now for something completely different.

One could say that I've had an off day.

I went to bed early last night knowing that I had to wake up early today (early for me, anyway - rise and shine is almost always between 6-7am). This morning I hit the snooze one fatal time (my clock radio only handles so many snooze hits... after which point it just shuts off... I *really* need a new clock radio) only to be immersed in an "I know what you did last summer"-corporate-stylie sort of dream. I don't recall the specifics but somehow the ship was set to explode, and my brother and I had been peripherally involved with setting the explosives but we didn't know why, and we were not allowed off the ship due to the investigation, which seemed a little odd - if they suspected a bomb on the ship you would think they would evacuate, but no, the investigators contained us all. So as soon as I was about to find out how I had been involved and what kind of sentence I was facing (other than death, as this was right before the ship exploded), I woke up.

Clearly a work dream. CLEARLY.

I woke up at 7:30am with a start from this dream. According to the plan last night, I was supposed to get up early to be clean and awake for an 8am meeting which was fortunately a 5-minute drive away. So I had 20 minutes to kinda clean up but not feel completely comfortable, and I was in no way awake for the meeting. I just kept thinking about the dream, and wondering why/how I'd been involved. Five minutes into the meeting I got the sense that the person I was meeting with had other priorities so I wasn't too concerned about my own distraction, although it was our last ceremonial bitch-and-moan session before I leave and I'd been looking forward to it. At least I got coffee'd up and fed.

Then later I sat through another meeting where I got really emotional for no apparent reason other than the suspected fact that my doctor switched a prescription to the generic brand and now my hormones are all off, and there's not much I can do about it since I won't have insurance in the near future. So I tried my best to hide my emotion (and I think I did OK) but it still bugged me that I couldn't contain - or explain - myself or my thoughts.

And then at the evening meeting that I was looking forward to, I got snubbed by someone which shouldn't have really surprised or bothered me but it did, and then (probably due to the aforementioned hormone issue) I started to feel feverish and even after eating something I didn't feel better, so I scurried out without really talking to anyone.

And now two hours later I've had some tea and played an hour of virtual Texas Hold'Em (which I learned about thanks to stalking ex-coworkers on Facebook), winning numerous points from strangers...

And I wonder if this is what my life will be like in Portland. And this worries me.

And so I will shut down Mr. Computer and turn to my other best friend, Mr. TV... well - actually - Mr. Planet Earth. I think I need a nature/nurture/I-am-really-not-that-important-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things night.

And some more cheese. That always helps.

Now spinning in my head 90% of every hour, although I am too lazy to update the list: Wilco - Sky Blue Sky - namely, Either Way... "Maybe the sun will shine today, the clouds will roll away... Maybe I won't be so afraid... I will understand, everything has its plan..."

And in other news, another belated Friday five.

Five things on the "things you do that really piss me off" list I got as a present on Saturday, that I actually do, in no particular order:

• choose TV over you
• correct your grammar
• screen your calls
• use "was like" as a verb
• call you "dude"

And in other, other news... I was like, dude, I gotta get me one of these!!

Uh oh.

I've... found... the... Texas hold'em... Facebook... app... sorry... have... to... type... between... dings... omg... my... life... is... over...

Misunderorganization.

I paid my car registration fees a few months ago. When I got the sticker and registration card I promptly put the sticker on my license plate... and did something with the registration card. That something did not involve putting it in my glove box as I usually do.

This did not occur to me until Tuesday of this week, when I was cleaning the glove box and realized that my old registration card was set to expire on Friday. I searched high and low for that dang replacement card to no avail. So I got up early Friday morning and headed to the DMV to pay the $17 fine to get a replacement card.

This afternoon I was cleaning out my file drawer (more with the whittling/purging) and got to my car folder. Insurance card from 2006, oil change from summer 2005, don't need those... Hmm... Here's the top portion of my 2006 registration card, and here's the 2007, I wonder if...

And sure enough, I must've put the promptly sticker on my desk and also promptly filed the stupid registration card in its correct folder. Where it would do me no good. D'oh.

If the duration of initial <-> end sticks, I figure this means that I'll find the two birthday cards I made four months ago, that I was supposed to hand out last night, sometime around April 26th... and that in about 3 minutes I'll remember that two weeks ago I told my neighbor I would feed her cats today.

Belated Friday five.

Five things that made me laugh today, in no particular order:

• cheaters, animal stylie
• me, circa April 1994
• tard models
• me, circa April 1996 (only I was at the Olive Garden in Colorado, but man did those freaks WANT THEIR BREAD NOW! - I love the drugs-in-the-tap-water move)
• mitosis
  

Tasks are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup...

No, I have not yet seen Across the Universe, though after this glowing review I can't wait to. I've been too busy to watch the three very intriguing Netflix flicks awaiting me, let alone anything new. Too busy to venture out into the real world to see movies, bands, life.

Instead, I just keep making lists. Lists of things to do before I go, things to do when I get there, things to do to GET me to there (um, hello, the most important part), people I should call (present and future), places I should visit (present and future), restaurants I should eat at "one last time"... Overwhelming.

It doesn't help that the next 2.5 weeks are INSANE IN THE MEMBRANE. What with nineteen going-away parties (I didn't know I had more than nineteen friends, so the "nineteen parties" part is pretty exciting, albeit somewhat exaggerated, and also I don't even know WHEN I'm going away, so the going-away parties are pretty odd), several poker nights, petting cats (AKA volunteering) and - oh yeah, wrapping stuff up at work which includes several evening/weekend meetings... I have approximately 3 spare hours between now and March 30.

At which point I will venture up to Portland to spend a week finding a place to squat for the next 6-9 months.

OVERWHELMING.

Thank goodness for TV. Thank goodness for Lost. Thank goodness for wine. Must. Escape. (Briefly.)

Firsts meme.

Cribbed from a friend of a friend.

1. Who was your first prom date? My "first" prom date? I only went to one prom, and I went with a really good friend. We had A TIME. A TIME, I tell ya.

2. Do you still talk to your first love? I don't talk to any of my former "loves."

3. What was your first alcoholic drink? I believe it was champagne at my parents' NYE party when I was 10 - I had a sip, literally a sip, and I had a horrible hangover the next day.

4. What was your first job? Under the table: babysitter for Satan's offspring. Legit: data entry clerk at the construction place where my parents worked.

5. What was your first car? 1984 Nissan pickup. Purchased in 1990, died in 2003. May she rest in peace.

6. Who was the first person to text you today? No one texted me today. I get charged $0.10 per text. By the way.

7. Who is the first person you thought of this morning? I don't remember. Probably someone in some meeting I was dreading.

8. Who was your first grade teacher? Mrs. McClelland. I will never forget her - she was reprimanding some JDs at the front of the class one day, using her plastic meter stick to emphasize her point, and that puppy shattered from the force of the "emphasis."

9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane? Maryland -> New Jersey to see my aunt.

10. Who was your first best friend, and are you still friends with him/her? It was a girl I met in elementary school, and we stayed friends (though not best friends) through college (even though she didn't go to college).

11. What was your first sport played? Oh lord, maybe HORSE or badminton in the backyard with my brother? Or freeze/flashlight tag with the neighborhood kids?

12. Where was your first sleepover? My cousin Kelly's house. She had a canopy bed. I was soooooooo jealous. And we made rainbow colored popcorn, the whole ROYGBIV spectrum of colors, which I haven't been able to find since then.

13. Who was the first person you talked to today? Assuming Her Majesty doesn't count, I think it was saying hello to one of my staff.

14. Whose wedding were you in the first time? I was the flower girl in a neighbor's daughter's wedding when I was about 5 years old. Guess they didn't know any little girls so they asked me.

15. What was the first thing you did this morning? Hit the snooze button.

16. What was the first concert you ever went to? Neil Diamond when I was four! Yay Mom.

17. What was your first tattoo or piercing? First ear piercing - when I was about 13. The five other ear piercings were in high school. First tattoo was the spring I turned 18, during my second semester at college.

18. What was the first foreign country you went to? Does New Jersey count? How about South Carolina? That South of the Border is pretty crazy, after all. Ha ha, just kidding. First foreign country was London, the start of my 12-countries-in-7-seconds tour of Europe during my sophomore year in college.

19. What was your first run-in with the law? I got a speeding "warning" picking a friend up from the airport in my parents' Monte Carlo when I was about 19 (man that thing could coast - and fast).

20. When was your first detention? I never had a detention. I was a goody-two-shoes.

21. What was the first state you lived in? Maryland. Lasted 23 years, give or take.

22. Who was the first person to break your heart? My first "official" boyfriend in 8th grade, I had such a crush on him, but he called me boring, and my friend told me as much.

23. Who was your first roommate? College, freshman year. We got along OK, but she had issues. (OK, so did I.)

24. Where did you go on your first limo ride? I have never been in a limo. With the impending departure, I think it's time to plan that wine tour o'Napa or o'Sonoma! (Preferably not within a day of the WOW though.)

"Step by step, ooooooh baby."

March 2008 step one: final dentist appointment, final doctor appointment, final eye doctor appointment, figure out interim health care. Dentist = done. Doctor = done, cholesterol check pending my availability to wait in the lab for nine years, oh and also pending when I want to hear the results of the cholesterol check, which will be, oh I don't know, NEVER. Eye doctor = Monday. Interim health care = ugh ugh ugh, need to find the patience and energy for this.

March 2008 step two: final car tune up, final vet appointment. Car = $950 later, done yesterday. (Sigh.) Vet = next Friday.

March 2008 step three: secure hotel (errr... motel... cheap, sorry-ass motel fifteen miles outside of town) reservations for first week of April when I go up to seek housing in my new city. Done today.

March 2008 step four: secure someone's spare laptop for mad Craigs List apartment searches during my trip the first week of April. Anyone? Anyone? Hook a sister up...?

March 08 step five: Get. My. Shit. Together. Literally AND figuratively. Yeah, um... Pending.

I'm sure that at some point, the craziness of my lackadaisical attitude about this MAJOR LIFE CHANGE will hit me, and I will start to freak out, which will subsequently stress me and Her Majesty and everyone around me out, which is what I'm really trying to avoid. I went from nine years at one crazy job to over a year at another really crazy job without much of a break, and I'm making every attempt to use this move as an opportunity to take my time and casually meander up to the Northwest. But without deadlines, without any sense of urgency, and with everyone and their mother asking me "do you have a place" "do you have a job" "what's your move date" "what do you plan to do when you get there" etc., etc., I'm feeling a bit lost.

I really hope that I do find a new abode that first week of April. I think that will put a lot of things into motion. And if I don't... well, I really hope my boss is serious about me doing some consulting work in April.

"Step by step, I really think its just a matter of time."

________________
Virtual high embarrassing five to anyone who immediately knew the band quoted in this email.

This just in...

Today, I do not enjoy being a girl.

In other news, I am officially a fan of this gal on SFGate's culture blog. My current favorite excerpt:

"It's always a delight to watch Tim [Gunn from Project Runway] interact with regular people. He could not look more uncomfortable eating three-bean-salad balanced atop his lap on a stranger's Jennifer Convertible. You can tell he's dying to grab a hag and whisper, Did you see those entryway curtains? My god, they look like Cher's Oscar rejects."

And finally, today a coworker witnessed a burglary in progress so he called the police. I went into a meeting shortly after he called them, and returned to our office a mere 30 minutes later to find two handsome uniformed men getting his statement. It was a little intimidating to be
in the immediate vicinity of all those guns and all that dark blue. But can I just say - your tax dollars DO work.

(Or, more likely, it was just a slow day in Oaktown.)

There's five big bags there, I swear.

In a strange turn of events today, I slept until 10am. (Well, technically 9am - stupid daylight savings time.) I had vague plans to start "doing something" toward the impending move...

But then I got sucked into a Quarterlife marathon on Bravo, which was another strange turn of events. I'd heard the buzz about this show and tried to watch it a few weeks ago at its regular time, and I got bored so instantaneously even my yawn was surprised. My interest today was either related to procrastination, or PMS (which makes these types of shows more appealing to me... me + PMS + Dawson's Creek = sheer heaven), or my adult onset ADD (which makes watching shows week by week intolerable, but hour by hour totally enrapturing - I'm pretty sure I will not have cable in Portland because I've become so accustomed to the Netflix Tv-on-DVD concept).

ANYWAY. I don't recommend the show unless any of the above apply.

The marathon ended at 2pm so I ventured out into the beautiful day to get a fish taco and the newspaper, then headed back home to start "doing something" toward the impending move. Since I don't know exactly when I'm going, or exactly where I'm going, packing is damn near impossible - what if I need that wool skirt/book I have yet to crack open/fourth (of four existing) color ink cartridge between now and "then"? What if my new bedroom closet doesn't have room for my wire Ikea shelf o'exercise clothes/six pairs of shoes I have worn once/nineteen thousand empty hangers?

So instead I am working on whittling down. Today I attacked the closet and dressers using the "if I haven't looked at it in a year, it's gone... OK, now if I haven't worn it in a year, it's gone" methodology of getting rid of things. I ended up with a respectable pile of space saved in the moving van (especially when you include the lamp and chair, which are not coming with me - unless I can't offload a cat-hair-laden red corduroy chair between now and then):


This is just the start. In the coming week I will work on the kitchen. Surely someone at work still drinks Celestial Seasonings tea, or needs a giant ladle or some mason jars, or would love a box of Cheerios purchased by my Dad in December 2005.

"Don't worry. I'm not here to eat."

I despise daylight savings time. Why?

Why, because I am apparently a pseudo-vampire who loves watching reruns of Buffy in the dark of winter when the sun sets at 4:30pm. Truth be told, I absolutely hate when the days are sunny for nineteen million hours at a time. Portland is just a step toward Alaska, which has one-hour-of-Mr.-Sun winters, after all.

But now, Yahoo!Tech ALSO gives YOU a reason to despise DST! Finally, a co-conspirator. Mwah hahahahahaha!!!!

(For geeks only: That's the extent of my pseudo-vampire impressions... Or is it? I DID quote Angel in the subject line, after all, and which of you Buffy fans thought they'd ever see the day I quoted THAT guy? Might as well be quoting Riley, for Pete's sake! Mwah hahahahahaha!!!!)

At last, I can sleep.

In order to round off the "comes in three's" we have to go back to last summer, but technically I think this counts because I just found out about it yesterday.

See, there was once this very sweet, very funny, very smart, very stylish person, the kind of person you wanted to be friends with, that I went to junior high and high school with. I wasn't good friends with her or anything, and we certainly didn't keep in touch after high school. But we shared six years of classes, and I liked her a hell of a lot more than most of the other people I shared six years of classes with.

A high school friend sent me a Facebook message about it. His wording was pretty somber so before I clicked the link, I sensed that the outcome was not good, but I suspected maybe a plane crash, or a car accident, or something having to do with some war somewhere. She seemed like the traveling Peace Corps-y type, after all. And I was on the Facebook high, poking people and taking movie trivia quizzes and joining social networks and what not, so clearly it had to have some positive spin to it. Never in a million years did I suspect that she had suffered a horrific death at the hands of her "boyfriend."

So I'm no longer fearing the reaper, as I tend to do while waiting for #3 to drop. Instead I've turned my attention to watching my faith in humanity continue to disintegrate by the ever loving millisecond.

From Postcards.

"I envy people who have the capacity to sit with another human being and find them endlessly interesting. I would rather watch TV. Of course, this eventually becomes known to the other person."

Last night I had the pleasure of attending a performance of Wishful Drinking. It was a personal, humorous, painful glimpse into the life of the woman who shall be immortalized as Princess Leia.

I hope my theatergoing friend will chime in, but my reaction to the show was all over the map. At times I felt disdain (oh boy, another sob story from Hollywood). At times I felt empathy (inbreeding, no father figure, men approaching you on the street proclaiming their love for you in "that little bikini number while you were chained to a giant slug," someone actually owning her likeness). At times I felt awe (Paul Simon wrote SONGS about this woman, I was Princess Leia for Halloween when I was four and I wrote a paper on the character in college - and there she is, RIGHT THERE).

But mostly, I appreciated her vulnerability, her openness, her engagement with the audience, her stories, her manner of storytelling, and her incredible sense of humor. Time has not been good to her, physically, but her inner strength is remarkable and I highly recommend this show for anyone who's remotely curious.

Now queuing Postcards from the Edge.

The silent treatment.

Her Majesty's incessant whining has really gotten out of control lately, to the point where I'm constantly barking "OMGSTFU already" at her, and she's waking me up at 4am to MEOW in my face, so after a visit to the volunteer animal gig tonight I decided to try another tactic: absolutely no acknowledgment of her incessant whining. (And also, I scheduled a vet appointment this afternoon.)

I have not said a word since I got home. Not to her, and not to my general surroundings. (I not only tend to acknowledge her whining, I also tend to talk to myself a lot when I'm at home.) Everything else has been as normal - she got her squishy food right away, she got pets when she was being quiet, she was calmly pushed away when trying to get in my lap while I worked on a paper online (which has never been OK - she has never been allowed to sit in my lap while I'm at the desk, but alas, this has never stopped her from trying).

She is now sitting at my feet, staring at me, occasionally moaning or groaning, reaching a paw up every now and then in an attempt to sit in my lap or sniff at the "other" cats I played with tonight. But in general, she's been fairly quiet for the past two hours.

Hmmm. I might be on to something...

But I'm still investigating kitty Prozac with the vet next week.

Two thumbs up.

After a many-year search for "vegetarian" General Tso's Chicken in the Bay Area that would rival that of Seven Seas (College Park, Maryland) version, which I got absolutely addicted to in college and which I ABSOLUTELY MUST have every time I go home to visit...

I have not found many competitors. In fact, until last week, I hadn't really found ANY competitors. Which shocked me, being in this culturally- and environmentally- crazy environment.

I have found several local sorry attempts to recreate the dish. They were pink and squishy and did not come with broccoli and they were not breaded, not deep-fried goodness, not at all spicy, and they made me throw them out after just a bite or two. Even after walking twenty or more blocks in hopeful optimism on my lunch hour. I just couldn't swallow them. So I threw them away and ate a backup Luna bar.

After all that effort, I have almost found it. I have almost found its rival. The texture was perfect, the broccoli was just enough, the underlaying sauce was just saucy enough - but not too saucy. The only issues I had were the lack of RED PEPPER OH MY GOD HOT spicy (that is, it wasn't quite spicy enough) and the size of the "chicken" (Seven Seas gives you big boneless wing sized portions, Big Lantern's were too small to be exactly chicken-sized - then again, they were easily consumed via chopstick whereas I have to use real utensils at Seven Seas).

And now, damn it all to hell, I'm moving to another state. So I suppose my new mission will be to find Portland's rival to Seven Seas' version of vegetarian General Tso's Chicken which I recently just about found at Big Lantern in San Francisco.

The job is suddenly coming together, the friend activity is suddenly coming together, and now the food is suddenly coming together. Must be time to get the hell out of Dodge.

Why I got nothing done today, exhibit #571.

Click this link, then wait for the site to load, then wait about 10 more seconds, then turn your sound down and enjoy. IKEA is fahrfrumgruvin' compared to these guys.

OK, back to the list.

My Saturday night.

We dug into disc one of Planet Earth, another wonderful BBC/David Attenborough collaboration. We laughed when the monkeys crossed the stream, arms upheld, looking annoyed. We stared in awe at the largest migration on the planet and rare footage of a snow leopard family. We cheered when the impala got away from those pesky hyenas (oops - spoiler alert!) and when the elephants frolicked in the water after a long, dry journey. And then we sat in awe through two more episodes about mountains and water.

It was brilliant.

The only thing I didn't like, that some people will probably love, is that the last 10 minutes of each episode featured a "how they did it" segment. It was easy enough to skip, but it wasn't in a separate "special features" section of the disc. When it comes to things like that, I don't want to know. I just want to experience the magic.

Come ON.

Yesterday in class I made a list of all the work and home things I want to get done this week. Eight for work, nine for home. Most relate to wrapping things up at work and getting ready for Portland.

I have been up since 6am, because apparently I'm old now and therefore incapable of sleeping in. It is now 3:43pm. I have done ONE THING on my list, and subsequently added about twelve more things. And done about six things that weren't on ANY list... And absolutely no TV was involved (well, except between 6:30-7am, when I watched a Buffy rerun on F/X during breakfast).

Finding time to do everyday normal things is hard enough. Imagine adding an interstate move... It's overwhelming.

On the upside, my allergies are back and I ran into a former coworker for the second weekend in a row, both of which cemented the thought that it's about time to get out of Dodge.

And on a totally unrelated note, the Parkway has joined the 21st century and now accepts credit cards. As when Trader Joe's switched from typing in prices to scanning items, this shift made me a little sad. There was something small-townish and charming about the prior situations. I know it's all about efficiency and the bottom line, but still...

Damn, I AM old.

Shockingly, I am not a comma.

I am a colon. No, not that type of colon. This type :

I am very orderly and fact driven. This is true. I am not concerned much with theories or dreams... only what's true or untrue. This is true. I am brilliant and incredibly learned. HA! Anything I know is well researched. This is true. I like to make lists and sort through things step by step. This is true. I am not subject to whim or emotions. This is mostly true. My friends see you as a constant source of knowledge and advice. HA! (But they are a little sick of me being right all of the time!) DOUBLE HA!

I excel in: Leadership positions QUADRUPLE HA!

I get along best with: The Semi-Colon

What kind of punctuation mark are you? Please identify yourself, semi-colons...

Friday five.

Five people, places or things I ask you to keep in your thoughts in the coming weeks, in no particular order:

• Kenya.
  
• My oldest friend's very adorable 6 month old baby boy, who was diagnosed with infantile glaucoma and will have his first (of probably many) surgeries on Monday.
  
• The residents, organizations, and volunteers who continue to work hard to get the devastated New Orleans region back on its feet, two and a half years later. (Stole that from S., who is still actively involved - thanks, S.)
  
• My aunt, who underwent a bone biopsy to determine whether she has bone cancer in the midst of having pneumonia. She's a great no-nonsense lady who always hosts Thanksgiving dinner and her jello marshmallow salads are to die for... I like her a lot.
  
• The animals at the SF Zoo, who apparently keep having to deal with IDIOTS. Yeah, I said it.
  

And a bunch of other important things, but these are what came to mind tonight. I am dreading the third scary personally relevant situation that is inevitably coming my way. These things ALWAYS come in three's.

Early Friday five.

Five songs from the 70s that the guys should've gone with this week on American Idol, in no particular order:

• Hot Rod Lincoln
  
• Thank God I'm a Country Boy
• My Sharona
  
• Escape (The Pina Colada Song)
• Theme From Shaft

Bonus early Friday five - five songs from the 70s that the gals should've gone with this week on American Idol, in no particular order:

• Kung Fu Fighting
  
• Y.M.C.A.
  
• King Tut
  
• America ("TODAY!")
  
• Theme From Shaft
  

I mean, come on, guys and gals - show some range already.

________________
(Yes, it's that time again.)

Inching my way toward the 21st century...

Since I'm so unimpressed with Comcast I decided to set myself up with a Gmail account. This way, if I don't carry my cable service over when I move, I can still get emails.

I have to say, I'm pleased with the ease of importing emails from my Comcast inbox and automatically forwarding emails sent to my Comast inbox. I like the user interface Gmail provides. And my Gmail address is not a cryptic version of my name, it's actually my name with a relevant number at the end, which will not only be more meaningful to recruitment folks as I start to submit job applications via email, it will also remind you all of my birthday.

But there doesn't seem to be a way to add sender info to your contact list with the click of a button, which is a drag, and I DO NOT like that the sponsored ads are directly related to the content of the emails in my inbox. I know it's all automatic but it's still creepy. (If you know how to fix either of these, please comment.)

But I'm sure they will fine-tune all of this and soon Gmail air will be thinner and more streamlined than ever. Oh wait, am I mixing my technology?

Belated Friday five.

Five Oscar-themed food items I would have served at the Oscar party I almost invited you to, except that I'm still coughing up various lungs and have three papers to write and haven't cleaned my apartment in weeks, in no particular order:

• blood oranges (or alternately, red velvet cake)
• baby carrots (or alternately, Alaskan smoked salmon)
  
• Caribbean jerk tofu
• twigs and berries (or alternately, Alaskan smoked salmon)
• cheese (think I would attempt ratatouille? you must be crazy!)

Now taking bets on whether I cry my eyes out during the "tribute" segment of the show (or alternately, during Jon Stewart's performance).

In the valley of Oh. My. God.

In a last ditch effort to educationally cast my vote for the Oscars, which, by the way, you have until 4pm Sunday, February 24 to do... which is a full hour before the event actually starts, and which I can still win if I get the most answers right, because no other personal marketing efforts have indicated otherwise... :)

Tonight I coughed my way through another nominee.

I was originally drawn to this film because of Tommy Lee Jones, who I love unabashedly (um, I voluntarily watched Space Cowboys to view his presence and subsequently pronounced my love for this man, hello?).

But I really didn't grasp the extent of why I should love this film based on the very limited trailers - anti-Iraq? Susan Sarandon? Charlize Theron? James Franco? "Sleeper film"?

Let the record show, Oh, My God. See this movie. Holy freaking cow, this is a Bay Area viewer goldmine...

And I will leave it at that.. Vote, baby, vote! Movie passes are at stake!

Why YouTube is a good thing, exhibit #36.

There aren't a lot of reasons, but now and then you run across one. This is one of those times... This is another one.

And while we're ranting, who the hell is Pete?

I am soooooo with you, Con. (Well, on Comcast's frakking jackholedness, not the shoes - which are lovely on you, but which would make me topple over in a fit of clumsy imbalance.)

Why do new customers get cheap rates for 6 months and old customers get jacked up rates every year? Who do they think they are, the county tax assessor, for Pete's sake? And why do I keep PAYING them? Honestly, the only cable shows I regularly try to remember to watch anymore that I would not want to watch as a series on DVD, or that I cannot get on ye olde Interweb, are Ace of Cakes and Dirty Jobs. And 7 times out of 10, I forget to watch them.

For this I pay $60 a month? What is WRONG with me?

I'm not saying I don't enjoy a good Project Runway or America's Top Model marathon on the occasional Saturday, or that I don't get good tips from Ina Garten or Alton Brown now and then, or that the Roloff family has lost their charm. (I won't go into the Reba reruns and Hanna Montana episodes I get sucked into, or the number of times I have watched 28 Days or A Walk to Remember, because something ELSE is clearly wrong with me. No worries, though, I'm going to redeem myself with American Psycho tonight... which clearly means that there is yet something ELSE wrong with me... SIGH.)

I'm just saying that I have gotten spoiled with this concept of queuing up an entire season of, say, Planet Earth or The Closer, and being able to watch up to 12 commercial-free episodes in a row.

And I'm also saying that if I didn't have cable, I could put the money I saved toward sending my brother an Ace of Cakes cake birthday cake 10 months from now. Because yes, they are THAT DAMN EXPENSIVE.

That's all I'm saying.

And another entry for the "next time I complain about *my* life, remind me about..." file.

Holy cow.

HOLY. FREAKING. COW. (They're some variety of warts, but they look like tree branches. TREE. BRANCHES. HOLY. FREAKING. COW.)

I really wonder what other strange illnesses are out there, that will soon be brought to me by the Discovery Channel or The Learning Channel.

Wait - Anthony Hopkins as a creepy murderer? Get out!

Yeah, Ryan Gosling notwithstanding, it was not that good. I do not recommend the time suckage.

And in other news - WOW!! (And by the way, YAY!! This might actually happen.) Regardless, it's fixing to be a very interesting November.

Wow.

And the award for best use of silence in a film goes to...

... certainly not me, who coughed my way through a double feature this afternoon.

The Oaks Theater was showing Michael Clayton and The Diving Bell and the Butterfly back to back, and I could see them both for $12 (now how much would you pay!). Even though MC was on my "no thanks" list I figured $5 for 2 hours of George Clooney couldn't be a bad thing. Plus, Her Maj would NOT shut up this morning, I had a pile of work glaring at me that I desperately wanted to avoid, and I really needed to get out of the house.

I was pleasantly surprised with MC (as I was with The Departed last year), and while I will be shocked if MC wins any of the awards with the possible exception of Best Original Screenplay, Clooney's performance was stellar throughout and especially during the last ten minutes. In the last 90 seconds (watch through the initial credits) you could've heard a pin drop in the theater.

And it was a surprisingly easy transition between that and DBB, which was just plain lovely and heartbreaking and inspiring. Dear lord, if I *ever* complain about anything ever again, remind me of this man. Except for the imagination scenes, it was impossible to believe that any of them were acting, that they weren't just filming a documentary. (And by that I mean the kind of documentary where you can hear what he is saying to himself, in his head. You know.)

I think I got even sicker throughout the day, but if it saves me plowing through Variety.com, HollywoodReporter.com, the NYT Carpetbagger blog and Nikki Fincke's Deadline Hollywood (as my crazy friend who [used to have] too much time on his hands recommended in order to win the Oscar poll), well, it was time well spent.

There will be blood. (Lots and lots and lots of blood.)

I saw American Psycho when it came out in 2000. I totally got Fight Club, released a year prior. Damn skippy, I was not my fucking khakis.

At the time, I did not get American Psycho. At. ALL. (Other than, hmm, Christian Bale is hot.) But I ran across the book at Powell's earlier this week, and it was on sale, so I figured I'd give it a go. After all, the author wrote Less Than Zero, and I got that movie. And it had "international best seller" on the cover, which meant it was surely worth my $8.

(My marketing teacher would be so unimpressed with me falling for such an elementary ploy.)

The rawness of it drew me in completely - I could not put it down. I think I get it now. The excess of the late '80s, obsession with everything money can buy, boredom from a boring job, frustration with being utterly indistinguishable from your peers, thinking that Genesis (sans Peter Gabriel) and Huey Lewis and the News were the greatest bands ever. Just the latter would turn me into a serial killer, for sure. But there's a lot more to it, and I would really like my future book club to dissect it. But first I want to watch the movie again.

(All of which is not to say, oh boo hoo you rich yuppie, so bored with life and your rich girlfriend and your $500 nightly dinners and your 2-hour daily workouts that you have to resort to torture to entertain yourself.)

And I did finally see the actual movie noted in the subject. I enjoyed it very much. My friend (who did not enjoy the film) was somewhat appalled when I laughed out loud at inappropriate times, like when DD-L's character was talking to the oil tycoon in the restaurant and he says "One night, I'm gonna come inside your house, wherever you're sleeping, and I'm gonna cut your throat." Or the very last line of the film. His behavior was so ridiculous I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Now, if only I could bear the thought of sitting through The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, In the Valley of Elah, Eastern Promises, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Charlie Wilson's War, Away from Her, Atonement, Michael Clayton, The Bourne Ultimatum, American Gangster, The Golden Compass, Transformers (REALLY??), 3:10 to Yuma and the third Pirate movie over the next seven days, I could actually make educated guesses for ye olde annual Oscar poll. Alas.

I do want to see everything up to Atonement (but nothing further than Atonement, including Atonement) in that list. Right after I get "The Heart of Rock 'n Roll" out of my head...

Pre-Friday five.

Five actual reasons why I am moving to Portland (now that I have visited, whereas before it was speculation), in no particular order:

• The transit system? ROCKS. $4.25 gets you all day access to ALL the light rail trains (which run from the airport to a lot of other places), ALL the buses (of which there are many) and ALL the streetcars (all two of them). ALL DAY. LESS THAN $5. For reference, take a one-way ride from SFO to Berkeley on your friendly BART train. Or use this example: it cost me $6.25 just to get home from the airport via public transportation (bus - rail- bus). And my money was only good for one ride on each of those.
  
• Oh and also, the bus drivers are soooooo nice. I made it a silent mission to find a mean bus driver but there were none to be found, even in the Tenderloin-y parts of town.
  
• The brewpubs? ROCK. I am not even a huge fan of beer, but I fell in love with my new best friend the Great Divide Oak-Aged Yeti (from Denver, but I had it in Portland)... at least I think that was it. After a couple, who can remember the name? But every one of the pubs we visited had locally grown ingredients, and that just might be reason #3.5.
  
• The Hawthorne District? ROCKS. A Parkway-like theater, a couple music venues, a lot of coffee shops and bars and restaurants and a Noah's and a Fred Meyer. Now how much would you pay... Not to say that the NE and the NW aren't cool as well. Just a little too much like where I live now, and the whole point of this is change, right?
  
• The weather? My kind of weather. Cloudy, overcast, cold, now and then a drizzle, now and then an hour-long shower, and then the sun comes out for a little while and goes back in. Much like Colorado weather.
  

And, of course, assuming I get a decent paying job... the price is so very right. I looked inside a couple of apartments and looked at the outsides/surrounding neighborhoods of a LOT of apartments, and yeah. The price is right.

No pun intended, but...

... there's a cat at the volunteer place who's been there for almost 5 months. (The longest I've seen any other cat in the adoption area was 3 months, I think.) Allegedly, she is somewhat docile in her cage but turns feral when you try to pick her up, so she hardly ever gets socialized, which means that she will have a very difficult time finding a home. (The notes on the clipboard on her cage are not encouraging to adoptees either - "experienced cat people only," etc.)

She is now my pet project. I spent a bit of time with her this evening while she was "behind bars," and not once did she emanate any feral tendencies. So after we played through the bars for a while, I told her that I would make it my job over the next two months to get her out and about, even if it means some scratches and bites along the way. If she stays in the cage she will never be adoptable...

It doesn't hurt her case that she shares the same name as Her Majesty. It also doesn't hurt that I seem to have cat pheromones in my blood. No kidding - I have never met a cat who wasn't 100% comfortable around me. (OK, well except that one cat the other week who seemed to be high on meth amphetamines and no one could go near her, but otherwise...)

Normal people might be alarmed at the prospect of attracting cats everywhere they go. But hey, they're furry and warm, and they're all about unconditional love. And especially on a day like today, you takes what you gets.

Enjoy your warm (with or without fur) S.O.s today. Her Maj and I will do the same.

________________

Let the record show that I will never, ever adopt a kitten again. Not only are there too many sweet older cats who wait and wait for adoption who - GASP AND SWOON - actually GET ALONG with other cats (ahem, Her Majesty, yes they exist) - but a mere five minutes in a room with one tonight reminded me that kittens are too damn much work.

OK, end of CCL post for now.

Observations.

Absinthe tasting night followed by a 7 hour class on marketing featuring a very energetic instructor who constantly refers to your organization's widely acknowledged brand identity and marketing angles, does not a happy Jen(n) make.

But the nap immediately following class? GOLDEN.

I sure have a lot of crap to get rid of before I move. Anybody need a desk? Red corduroy chair? Really used dining set with only two chairs? Too big for me clothes that, come hell or high water, will never fit me again because I am going to stay in shape dammit I am?

(I'm also appalled at the sheer number of pens I have accumulated in the past few years - need a pen? Or 14?)

I am kinda keen on this idea of a studio apartment and far less stuff than I have now. I do admit that a large, yet reasonably priced, one-bedroom apartment has been very nice to me and Her Majesty for the past three years, and it would really be cool to have an official crafting area in my abode at some point... But I think I'm gonna go small to start. Maybe the rest will come with the house I am destined to buy in Portland.

The Wire is a really, really good show, and I don't even usually like shows like that. As is Iconoclasts, if I haven't already mentioned that. Which I have - Ed Vedder and surfing legend Laird Hamilton? WOW. (Shameless plug - now available on iTunes! For REALLY CHEAP!) Season 2 also features Alice Waters interviewing Mikhail Baryshnikov and vice-versa, and the following other interview pairs: Maya Angelou and Dave Chappelle, Quentin Tarantino and Fiona Apple, Lorne Michaels and Paul Simon (which is particularly interesting when it gets to the discussion about 9/11)... Anyway - sheer genius. I want to work for Sundance someday. Season 3 features Mike Myers and Deepak Chopra - can you imagine?? Check it out.

And Oregon is one of the few remaining states that doesn't let you pump your own gas, and that doesn't have sales tax. The next week should be interesting as I try to remember that. But it might be a good angle to pitch to the folks when (and if) I tell them I'm moving up there, and they should consider it. They'll eat that stuff up.

Thank you, Jackie Moon.

Even if it was for the world's worst beer ever, it helps me rag even more on the LOSER. Tom Brady - suck one. Ha-ha!

OK, off to write a paper on how to revise legislation for nonprofits as it relates to interested parties. Sigh. Three more of these classes, and you can stick a fork in me.

The agony and the irony.

I made too much money last year to deduct my certificate program tuition (assuming I can even do that for non-university courses)... and I didn't give enough away to charities to deduct that either. AND I did something strange on my W2 when I started the new job, so I wasn't having enough taxes deducted throughout the year and now I owe a lot of money.

Get bent, tax man.

Public service announcement.

I confess that I am posting this without doing 100% of the research on this issue, simply because someone else I trust did 100% of the research and sent me the information. And also, simply because I can't believe we are still conducting aerial pesticide spraying in this country at all. Really? Has technology not advanced far enough to prevent this need?

STOP AERIAL PESTICIDE SPRAYING!
The California Department of Food and Agriculture (CDFA) has announced plans to resume aerial pesticide spraying for the Light Brown Apple Moth (LBAM) in summer of 2008. The campaign began in 2007 in Santa Cruz and Monterey counties using a synthetic pheromone along with other chemicals encased in microscopic plastic capsules. CDFA will expand the program to the San Francisco Bay Area with plans to continue spraying each month for up to 5 years or indefinitely until the moth is eradicated.

WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE LBAM SPRAYING?
1) Hundreds of people in Santa Cruz and Monterey County have reported adverse health reactions. The spray has not been tested for long-term human toxicity and is being applied in microscopic plastic capsules that could pose inhalation risks.

2) The spray contains ingredients that are highly toxic to aquatic species, as well as surfactants, that might have contributed to algae bloom (red tide) and the drowning of hundreds of waterfowl.

3) Biologists agree that the spraying - an outdated, unsustainable, expensive pest control method - will not eradicate the moth. The CDFA should switch to a control vs. an eradication program using least-toxic methods that farmers already apply, e.g. pheromone traps or sticky ties.

4) CDFA itself says the moth has done no crop damage in California to date. Priority must be given to public and environmental health and safety over speculative economic loss.

5) The aerial spray program disproportionately impacts vulnerable segments of the population, including those with the recognized disability of multiple chemical sensitivity, who are in many cases forced to relocate, and the homeless, who have no option to protect themselves from spraying.

[Ed. note: it's also a really cute little moth! I love moths.]

More information that has been vetted by scientists and other activists.

WHAT CAN YOU DO?

• Sign the petition at www.stopthespray.org, get informed and become active!
• Contact the media: newspapers, weeklies, radio and television stations - voice your concern.
• Ask Governor Schwarzenegger and CDFA Secretary Kawamura to stop the spray program and shift to sustainable methods of least-toxic pest control.
• Ask your Assemblymember to support proposed legislation to stop spraying without consent and safety data and to do whatever they can to stop the spraying until legislation can be passed.
• Ask your federal Congressional representatives and Senators to tell USDA to support safe pest control and to lift the USDA quarantine of California crops from areas where the light brown apple moth has been found.

Lo and behold, an actual Friday five.

Five questions I am growing weary of answering despite the fact that each time I am asked I get more and more excited about this decision, and their answers, in no particular order:

• Q: Why Portland? A: Varies among the following... I've always wanted to spend a good chunk of time there... I'm tired of sun... I'm tired of it taking me 30 minutes to drive .15 miles... Everyone I know thinks I would love it there... To borrow a quote from a friend, I want to live in a small town without having to live in a damn small town... Whaddya mean - why not Portland?
  
• Q: Do you have a job there? A: Not yet. I'm going to start looking in February (ack, which is officially now!), but to be honest, I would be happy and financially comfortable working at Peets for a few months while I figure it all out.
• Q: Are you going to apply for a job with [current organization]'s Portland affiliate? A: I will be more than happy to volunteer with [current organization]'s Portland affiliate, but no, I am not seeking employment with them. I am, however, looking into [previous organization]'s job postings. Could be an easy in for the first year while I figure it all out.
  
• Q: Do you know anyone there/Do you have a lot of friends there/Do you have family there? A: I know one person there. I know a lot of people who are planning to visit! I knew no one when I moved to the Bay Area, and that's worked out pretty well so far.
  
• Q (more of a statement): It rains a lot there. A (more of a response): Varies among the following... I like rain... Really? I had no idea!... Yes, I am aware - but the other 7 months are lovely... Not as much as Seattle!
  

I've gotten mixed reactions about the "do you have a job yet" question. I guess in some peoples' opinions, it's slightly inappropriate for an established 33 year old professional to pack up and fly by the seat of her pants - this privilege seems to be reserved for 23 year olds. And in other peoples' opinions, they are incredibly jealous of my lack of ties/mortgage/kids and my ability to just pack up and fly by the seat of my pants - these are the people I will likely keep in touch with.

This weekend I think I'm going to share the news with my parents. I've been dreading this immensely. I fear that Mom will cry because I'm not announcing that I'm moving back east. What she doesn't know is that this is a mid-step before that decision (which is possibly inevitable) - if I move to Portland, and end up moving back east, even temporarily, I will know whether Portland is worth going back for.

But don't tell Mom any of that.