Coffee

I drink a lot of coffee. People give me coffee mugs, coffee chocolates (yum), coffee paper, coffee shirts, etc. Because I really, really love coffee. Black, strong, and serious. None of that frothy, sprinkle-covered latte nonsense for me. Just good ole coffee. My brother recently sent me a link to a youtube video which may clear up some of the mystery surrounding my relationship with coffee. The link follows below.

Meanwhile, I need a refill...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYomUXk2RXg&feature=user

Lorie

This week my dear friend Lorie moved away. I have known it was coming for months, but rather than dealing with it sensibly, I pretended it was not going to happen. Monday, it did. I was too upset to see her off at the dock. As I am not usually one for big emotional displays, I was a little surprised at my reaction in the privacy of my post office window. I suppose I shouldn't have been, though, as Lorie is the kind of friend you only get once.

When I first arrived here, the wife of my husband's boss asked me if I had met Lorie yet. I said no, and asked why. The lady said, "Oh, no reason. I'll just let you see for yourself when you do meet her." What does THAT mean, I wondered. This kind of question about Lorie came up a few more times, and I grew more and more intrigued. Someone said that I would either love her or hate her.

Lorie lived a few houses down from me. We finally met. And then I understood. Lorie is outspoken, brave, hardworking, honest, and fair. She is not afraid to meet a problem head on. She always does what is right and just, and demands the same from all who surround her. She is funny, so damned funny. And kinder than I have ever been. We were immediately friends, and a better friend, neighbor, and troupe member I cannot ask for. For a meeker person, I can understand how she might seem intimidating, but I loved her from the first day.

Lorie challenged me and inspired me to lose 40 pounds last year, and take better care of myself. She is my official kick in the ass when I need it, and nobody can take me down a peg like she can. Nor would I allow it from anyone but her.

I miss her desperately already, and I hope she, and all you who read this, understand that my pathetic attempt here to honor my dear friend is in no way complete enough, or good enough, or just...enough,to be worthy of such a wonderful lady.

Walks

So my camera comes with a phone...wait, other way around...but anyway, here are some phone pictures from recent walks with my dog. Evidently there is some use for technology in the wilderness.

The Orphanage

Run to the video store and rent this film by Guillermo del Toro (of Pan's Labyrinth and Hellboy). It's a beautiful film, atmospheric in the classic gothic ghost story sense. The movie does not depend upon gore or shock to convey the horrors within. It's a ghost story that creeps into your bones and scares the living shit out of you. Belen Rueda is the star, and I won't tell you much about it, because I insist you watch for yourself. I will say, though, that it is not your garden variety scary movie following a formula. It is unpredictable and graceful and tormented and cinematic in every beautiful sense. I felt immersed. This is a sumptuous film, lovely and horrible. Roll it around on your tongue for awhile, savor every moment. It is truly that good. I rarely recommend movies, but this one is an absolute beauty.

Oh yeah...it's in Spanish. But there are subtitles if you need them.

Homecomings

When I was newly married and my husband came home from a deployment, it was a Big Deal. Well, firstly because he was gone for over 10 of our first 12 months of marriage, so when he showed up at all, it was cause for serious celebre, if ya know what I mean. But really, the week before I thought he would be home, it was a flurry of activity: cleaning the floors, scrubbing the shower, washing every fabric thing in the house, brushing the cat, painting my nails, deciding what to wear when he first walked in the door, getting food to put in the fridge, and so on.

Right.

We all know I SUCK at the housewifing. I'm fully aware of it, and make no apologies. Some people rock at that sort of thing. For me, notsomuch. I hate it. My priorities lie elsewhere.

So, husband is coming home around 11 tonight. I have a craft project exploding all over the dining room table. Knitting on the coffee table. Other knitting on the side table. And more knitting on the floor of the office. Next to a pile of cds and my half-finished sock zombie. The dog destroyed a bath towel, and there is dead towel carnage all over the living room carpet. Alongside the limp, muddy bit of rawhide bone he dug up from his hidey hole in the yard and dragged in the house late last night. My guess is he likes them aged like kimchi. I have a pile of clean laundry on the bed, which incidentally is where cat #2 vomited just moments ago and I have yet to clean it up. Cat #1 upended a bag of kitty food in the guest bathroom, and there are kitty food bits all over in there. A neighbor dropped off all her leftover pantry items yesterday as they are moving this week, and there are jars and bottles covering the kitchen counters. I honestly don't remember when I last had a shower, and haven't shaved my legs in over a week. Might be two. I found a dessicated earthworm carcass just inside the back door. Not sure what happened there. Poor guy didn't make it out, though. The trash can overfloweth and the recycling bin has taken on a life of its own.

I live 5 minutes from the airport. I have just under 5 hours. I could probably do something about most of this. Well, I'd likely not get my nails painted or either cats or the dog brushed, but I could no doubt scrape the puke off the bed, put the laundry away, clean up the kitchen and reign in my crafty messes. Possibly even vacuum up the towel remains. Perhaps a shower.

But will I????

I think I am being sabotaged. It defies logic that all 3 of my fuzzy animal friends choose this day to fling food about with gleeful abandon, projectile vomit where I sleep, and sling muddy bone and towel bits around the house like all these things are going outta style. Sigh.

So here I sit, detached in a somewhat zen-like state, watching my house fall apart around me, and I wonder what exactly happened to my nice orderly life? The life in which I had time to paint my nails and pick out pretty clothes to please my husband. Wait, maybe I mean the life in which I gave a crap about those things.

Ehh, whatever. Guess I'll sit here until I decide which to tackle first: cat puke or muddy dog bone mess.

Out of the stone age, full speed ahead

Okay, so last weekend my husband and I threw off our horse and buggy and left behind our Amish ways once and for all. We got *gasp* cell phones. It has long been a point of pride for us not to possess such foul and loathsome devices, and we were rather sorry to have to step foot into the modern world and bite the bullet. It has become painfully obvious to us that it is impossible to function in this world without cell phones. Two botched travel arrangements and much stress later, we stand united in the cell phone store, explaining to the impossibly young girl behind the counter that we have NO IDEA how to turn the damn things on, much less send or receive any kind of message, be it text, audio, photo, email or video. "Pretend we're Amish," I say to the girl, "and explain it to us slowly."

"What's an Amish?" she responds.

God help me.

Several hours and many cups of coffee later, we arrive home with our new phones. I feel like Harry Potter on his first day at Hogwarts. Surely this thing is magical. The numbers just glow out of the front of it when it's closed. How does THAT happen, I wonder?

My (ahem) much older brother swears I am a freak of nature in my nearly obsessive avoidance of all things modern and labor-saving. Really, that's not it. With every new device to which I am shackled (ipod, cell phone, digital camera, laptop, etc.) I feel a little more of my freedom scraped away. Soon all that will remain is the bare bones of what once was a robust and glorious freedom to...do whatever I want, with no interruptions, no frantic searches for connections/plugs/ ports/blue teeth.

What happened to simply disappearing for a long weekend in, say, Paris, completely and blissfully cut off from work and the world at large, to come out rested and relaxed on the other side of it?

I truly detest the idea of being hunted down at all hours and in all places. For that reason, I am giving none of you my phone number.

Frustrated Superhero?

It seems that the past few weeks have blurred past me like a roadsign from a speeding car. What happened? And why am I so tired? Sometimes I wonder if I have another life that takes place while I am supposed to be sleeping, and someone smacks me with a dose of memory dust each morning so I don't remember. It would explain the aches, pains, and overall sluggishness; I'm not getting old, I have merely been battling demons and saving the world every night whilst mere mortals lie sleeping and unawares.

Today I read a blog by a friend who complained about the rain (yes, it's raining and 42 degrees...it IS Alaska, folks). We had 2 weeks straight of sun and (for here) warm weather. Never heard a peep from anyone. Bring on a few days of rain, and the complaints are a cacophony in my ears. Why is that? Why is it so damn hard to just wake up every morning and be grateful to actually WAKE UP. Appreciate that you are alive, and get over the damn weather. It's only weather. There are so many far worse things in life to contemplate than rain.

Fore example, you could be an intergalactic superhero by night, and you wake up exhausted but unable to remember the cool stuff you did, so you suffer the pains but lose out on the bragging rights.

It happened to me.