I'm Here Today

I can't believe that it's been two years.

Two years ago today and tomorrow.

I'm not sad, really--not anymore, not today, not now. Perhaps I am more in awe of my experience and how far I've come and gone in two years. I know for a fact I would not be in this place, with this life, if it had not been for two years ago. I would not be this person, not fully.

But it's a good life, and a good place to be, despite the sadness and difficulty to get me here.

Two years. It's a time for reflection for us today, time to hold hands, and perhaps a tear or two for your memory and what-might-have-been.

And so I am here.

I carry you in my heart, always.

Working on the Chain Mail, or, Passing the Baton

I finally figured out how to link up blogs to mine, so this might make a lot more sense if you read Sorority Sister Cristin's entry titled, "No One Does Anything on Fridays Anymore."

SSE! (Sorority Sister Elisabeth!)
1: I’ll respond with something random about you: On many more than one occasion, I’ve wished I had your inherent beauty. (cheese alert! Really, though)
2: I’ll challenge you to try something: Run a 5k this summer. I’m doing one May 20 and I’m more nervous about it than anything else in my life, so I think you should join me.
3: I’ll pick a color that I associate with you: warm yellow.
4: I’ll tell you something I like about you: How articulate you are. I’ve never seen you stumble over your words or search for ones that aren’t there.
5: I’ll tell you my first/clearest memory of you: My favorite one is from when we were practicing recruitment rotation before rush senior year and I had you and all the other #1s acting as PNMs (yeah, this response just got confusing for anyone who’s *Non-initiated*) and you guys started introducing yourselves at the door with fake names– you and barbara went on a harry potter kick, and at one point you shook my hand and intro’d yourself as Crookshanks.
6: I’ll tell you what animal you remind me of: Since I’m on a bear kick, I’m going with koala bear for you.
7: I’ll ask you something I’ve always wanted to ask you: outside of who killed JonBenet, what other burning questions have you come across since college?
8: If I do this for you, you must post this in your journal: E, I’m leaving this mandate up for you.

So here you are, Sorority Sister Cristin.

Leave a reply and…
1: I’ll respond with something random about you.
2: I’ll challenge you to try something.
3: I’ll pick a color that I associate with you.
4: I’ll tell you something I like about you.
5: I’ll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6: I’ll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7: I’ll ask you something I’ve always wanted to ask you.

Now, obviously should you choose to participate in this silliness, no "Anon" comments--I may be slightly clairvoyant, but I'm not THAT good.

PS: Ironically, I was already considering training for a 5K. I don't know if I'll be up and running by May 20, but how about I agree by the end of the summer?
PPS: I really want to know what happen to the settlement on Roanoke. That's been my latest fix.

Green Thumb

Spring began right on time this year: March 21 with the Vernal Equinox. It's been raining all week, hard heavy rains, and there's just the smell of green in the air.

The Doctor is on-call this weekend, so I'm home alone. There is only so much wallowing in my own self-pity that I can handle, so I decided to get out this weekend. My Saturday morning rituals include watching Thursday night ABC shows online and normally, I don't like to be interrupted during this sacred TV time. But when my phone rang at 11, I went ahead and took the call. Turns out it was an invitation for waffles and wine, which I happily accepted.

These particular friends (a doc and her husband) are the type of people I aspire to be. They don't own a television. Music of all types is always playing on their iPod. They regularly have parties and social gatherings. We do game nights with them, both cards and the Wii. Basically, they are just neat people. Intellectual, artistic and have "interests" that are actually interesting.

One of these interests is gardening. I grew up with a grandmother who has a green thumb extraordinaire and have fond memories of harvesting and pickling cucumbers and weeding flower beds with her. So when Female Half asked if I wanted to go to the flower nursery, I jumped on the chance.

I'm going to take advantage of having a real yard, with clearly defined garden beds. Our entire fence is lined with empty lomey beds, just waiting to be filled with color and green. The rain has permeated the soil and it is damp and fertile looking. So at the nursery I purchased some calla lily bulbs; wildflowe and morning glory seeds; an herb garden; lavender plants; and pea, peppers, carrot, squash, cucumber and romaine lettuce seeds. I also got some succulents and transplanted them into hangers. They're now hanging over our large window.

I'm so excited about this. I have the little pods to start the veg in while it's still a little chilly and I'll transplant the seedlings over to the flower beds once it gets a tad warmer.

It's nice to have something to occupy these long weekends!

Submerged

In the paraphrased words of Bridget Jones, it's a known fact that the second something goes right in your life, another area goes spectacularly to shit. Now that I'm firmly entrenched in adulthood, I couldn't agree more.

The new job is not perfect. An hour commute to Santa Fe (literally 60 minutes, going 75 MpH) leaves much to be desired--including the desire for an extra hour of sleep in the morning. But the personnel is great and I'm feeling right at home. It's not my forever job, but it will certainly be doable for the next few years while we're here.

Which brings me to the shit part. This is an on-call month for the Doctor; these months are always hard for me because it means lots of lonely time by myself, usually leading to self-absorbed melancholy. And this weekend was a doozy.

I cried all weekend and I can't seem to get myself to pull out of it three days later. I feel completely submerged under this saddness and I cannot get out. Even though it's been awhile since anyone broke my heart, I feel very much like I just ended a relationship. I find my eyes unexplicably welling. I have an actual catch in my throat every time I think of Arizona and sometimes, I want to go back so desperately that I literally cannot breathe. My desire is so overwhelming it literally catches me by surprise, like a slap across my cheek.

And so I have realized, I cannot stay here. I cannot. Not when my desire to move back to Arizona is so overwhelming.

Pride Cometh Before the Fall

During the trip to L.A. this weekend to visit FIL, I had breakfast with dear friend Sasaki. She then proceeded to manipulate my torso. During this rather intimate exchange we chatted about being sick. Poor Sasaki has been ill for several weeks and I was telling her how lucky I've been at avoiding the flu or a cold this winter.

Words spoken two days too soon.

I started my new job the following Monday and began to feel ill a few hours in. You know the feelings---achy back, scratchy throat, headache. By the next morning, I felt like a complete load of shit. You know the feeling---flat out dying, the kind of feeling where you start to panic, thinking that perhaps you never will feel better.

Thankfully, I have a boss who is kind and understanding and 2.5 days of unpaid sick leave, I was back to work.

Lesson learned: I will never brag about my apparent health to anyone ever again. Pride does come before a hard fall.

Commitment Phobe

I've never been one to have a fear of commitment. In fact, I would call myself a commitment lover--I serial monogamy-ed my way through my dating years and here I am, 26 and been married almost a year.

Obviously, commitment to a person is not an issue for me.

However, as evidenced by this move to ABQ, I do have issues committing to a place, an identity as a "New Mexican." I have been stubborn about this, refusing to give an inch, refusing to like this city or to make it my home.

And then I quit my job.

Yes, this Friday is my last day, but lest you think I have been irresponsible, I will be starting my new position in the Infectious Disease Bureau with the DoH of NM. This is a job with true career potential, a job that will hopefully go somewhere, a job that could BE something.

So this is the crux I face. Is it perhaps time to accept that this is not another phase of my life to get through, not another uncomfortable and undesirable chunk of years viewed as a chore? Perhaps it is time to fully commit myself to this city, to this move (which is not so recent anymore) and ground myself in what is really my life.

Fire!!

On Friday night, we had a fire in our house.

Yes, a fire---with flames and everything.

Our house doesn't have central heat; instead, we have one grate set into the floor of the living room with a gas heater inside the space. I was sitting on the couch and kept smelling this burning stench. I thought I'd maybe left the stove burner on and got up to check. Instead, when I walked by the grate, I saw flames on the bottom.

Turns out, over the years, debris collected on the bottom of the heater. I guess the buildup had gotten deep enough to actually ignite when the heater got too hot.

It was pretty sobering and made me wonder what would have happened if we hadn't been home.

This experience also has us thinking more and more about moving.

In Denfense of Book Buying

I love to read. Growing up, I used to read hunched over in this old pink chair my parents had in the living room, my legs draped over the side, my shoulders slumped into the book. I read everything and anything, including medical books, classic literature, dictionaries, my parents' crime novels and the Babysitter's Club series.

There are several things in this world that, money permitting, I would shop for nonstop: shoes, underwear, makeup and.....you guessed it, books.

My mother worked in a library growing up and we had unlimited access to the library. My mother is a staunch believer in using libraries and is horrified by my book purching penchant. However, what she fails to take into account is my obsessive habit of reading and reading the same books over and over again. I have read Bridget Jones's Diary at least 20 times. The Harry Potter series? Probably 7 readings each. Ann of Green Gables? Like, a billion since the age of seven. Almost every single book I own has been read at least twice.

Favorite books are like old friends. I love that when I'm under stress or nervous, I can pick up and old standby and merely open the book to any part (beginning, middle, or end) and know exactly what is happening. It's comforting to know these characters inside and out, to feel like they are part of my family.

You Are Now Entering the Twilight Zone

The drive back from Denver took forever. Not as long as the drive there (we took the senic route and a long lunch in Santa Fe--11 hours worth of car ride!), but still upwards of 8 hours.

I napped for awhile, read my book, ate gummi bears (red is my new favorite). But nothing could change the boring factor of this drive. And boring it is. I never realized that Colorado and northern New Mexico was so flat. Here in the central area, there's mesas and craggy mountains to break up the flatlands. But much of the I-25 between ABQ and Denver looks like the midwest--flat and boooooring.

Weathermen predicted a snowstorm, so we tried to make good time, but the snow started about two hours north of Santa Fe...and it was the strangest snowstorm I've ever driven through.

We didn't need the windshield wipers. Not once. The stow wasn't sticking on anything. The wind was blowing the snow up and around the car. The headlights illuminated the flakes and it looked like we were driving into a tunnel of snow, not a flake of which landed on the windshield. Actually, what it looked like was that old standby screen saver from Microsoft or the old Starwars movies. It looked like we were driving through stars, at light speed, hurdling through time and space to some unknown destiny in a glaxy far, far away.

But really, all I was headed for was home. And even though a huge part of me wants to be anywhere but here, a tiny part of my heart couldn't wait to be back.

Intermission

I think I've reached the intermission stage of moving. You know, that stage where you don't quite belong anywhere.

As of March 1, I will have lived in the great craphole of ABQ for nine months. Is it starting to feel like home? No. But Tucson is no longer home, either.

I am homeless.

Or, at least I feel like it. There is some deep desire in my being to have roots somewhere, to belong (obviously, my modern human heritage is not from the nomadic peoples), and I feel rootless right now.

Or perhaps, the problem is not that I lack roots. Perhaps my roots are spread out so far, I can hardly comprehend it. I have friends scattered across the Continental US, not to mention a certain individual who I love deeply who is battling the monkey pox and malnutrition in the DRC. And by friends, I don't mean someone who I know of---I mean friends, people who I speak to on a weekly basis (sometimes daily).

My net has been cast far and wide; to some degree, I believe I can call Phoenix, Seattle, L.A., St. Louis, Providence, DC, Naugatuck, Williamsburg, New York, Fairfax, Manassas and Tucson home because people who I love deeply reside there.

So at this intermission of my life, this lull between leaving my old home and making my new, when I am looking around me, digging frantically in the dirt of ABQ, nuturing my tree, begging it to take root, I need to pause and thank all the homes I have out there, the friends and family with their arms and homes open wide, loving me and supporting me.

You know who you are.

Thank you.

Praying to my Porcelain God

Somehow it is only fitting that the first time I drink to the point of illness since college is with my college roommate and instigator Barbara.

Barbara and I have had long torrid affair with alcohol, including run-ins with friends' fists, 1 am trips to the delis for pitchers of Bud Ice (yes, it does look like urine, but even worse, it tastes like urine) and even getting a friend of ours arrested once (totally by accident, I swear).

We started out in a nice little bar and grill where, overtaken by the spirit of Bond in the recently rented Casino Royale, I had the best dirty martini---just the perfect amount of olive juice and a very smooth vodka. Well, I've never been one to say that martinis should be sipped and savored, but I also usually don't pound them like water on a hot day.

By the time we got to the actual bar, I could hardly carry on a cohesive conversation. Barbara, who was drinking Jack n' Ginger like it was going out of style, quickly caught up with my level of drunkenness. Neither of us have any memory of paying, leaving the bar, flagging down the taxi or getting to my hotel room. But we did--in one piece. And the night had just begun. I almost wish I had a third person video of that night, with Barbara and I laying on either side of the toilet on the cold tile floor, alternating turns on our knees. I have not been that intoxicated since my senior formal where I locked myself into the student union bathroom and my poor ex-Beloved had to drag me out of the girl's bathroom to his room, where I puked red wine for hours in the sink.

Officially, I'm getting old. I can no longer rebound from my alcohol. In fact, I swear, when I woke up this morning (36 hours later), I was STILL hung over. I honestly think I peed straight vodka for the first ten hours the next day.

I was a true champion in college, but I think if this weekend is any indication, my glory days are over.

Fictioning

Remember a few months ago when I did that crazy write a novel in a month thing?

Well, my friends. That novel has been dusted off. I printed all 198 pages of it (using the laser printer at work, of course)

The editing process has begun. And it is a BITCH.

I've never edited such a large thing (I hestitate to call it a "novel" yet) in my life.

How do I do this? How do I keep the bigger picture of this thing while being nitpicky? I'm only four chapters into it and already, feeling overwhelmed.

Neptune High

When it comes to TV shows and books, Sorority Sister Cristin has never steered me wrong.

The People's Exhibit A: The O.C.
Now, I'll give you that The O.C. has veered off in an alarming direction and may not be of the same quality during it's early years. But you have to admit, the show rocked it for awhile. And how could we not just love, "Welcome to the O.C., Bitch!"

So when SSC started mentioning Veronica Mars, my interest piqued. But for some reason, I just couldn't bring myself to watch a show on UPN. It just hurt. I mean, my love for The WB was bad enough to admit to people.

But now that the CW & UPN have merged into The CW (rest in peace, WB), I caught an episode a few months ago. And I loved it. Veronica was not some bobble-headed teenage blond thing, but this rocking, snarky PI with killer hair. So I netflixed the past seasons on DVD.

I am officially in L-O-V-E with Veronica Mars and this show has resurrected a part of my past I believed long dead: full-fledged crushing on a TV character.

I am not ashamed to admit it. I have the hots for Logan Echolls. (Yes, it's a little less disturbing now that they are out of high school.) I rewind the DVD during his makeout scenes so I can see his half-naked body in slow-mo. I have officially reverted back to my middle-school days when I plastered posters of Christian Bale on the walls of my bedroom and took photos of the television screen when I watched Newsies over and over.

And I love every minute of it.

Multiples

I think ABQ has multiple personalities.....
Exhibit A: June - Sept: Rained so much I thought I'd moved to Seattle.
Exhibit B: Dec - Jan: Snowed 20+ inches and thought I'd moved to Denver
Exhibit C: Jan: So windy I think I'm in Chicago

Obviously this city has no identity of its own.

Today, when I signed into blogger to update, I had 18 (that's right, count 18) comments waiting for "moderation." EIGHTEEN!!! All of these insanely wonderful, kind, sympathetic and hilarious messages left by my nearest and dearest scattered across this earth. I did not even realize the moderation was on. So I apologize for missing those comments, and yes, Faeline, that will be my next novel topic! You know, after you read this one....

Life in ABQ is going okay. I feel like I have a lot to write about, but I don't. Life is moving slowly. Life plods along through the sludgey snow piled on the side of the road.

We Wish You a Married Christmas

Well, the Doctor and I officially had a first Christmas together and it was quite marvelous. In the prior years, I've always flown back to the VA to be with my family for the week and he's gone back to L.A. to see his parents, so this year was our first together.

Before going to midnight mass, we lit luminarias down our porch, the candles flickering in the cold night. I haven't been to mass in years (yes, I know, we cafeteria Catholics do pick and choose) and this was my first time in ABQ. The priest has recently been promoted to monsignor, probably because he loves to hear himself talk. Oh my. The homily dragged on slower than a sloth. We didn't get home until 2 a.m., which is not an unusual time for us to go to bed on a weekend, but the fact we had been in chuch simply enhanced our sleepiness.

I got up at 10:30 and waited for the Doctor to roll out of bed. We peeked in our stockings (and gave the Roo her knuckle bone from Santa) before making mimosas and toasting Baby God Jesus a happy birthday.

I got resoundly drunk on champange while roasting the turkey, mashing the potatoes and fluffing the stuffing and actually remember very little of the meal, but the Doctor insists the food was delicious (the leftovers were top notch, if I do say so myself).

So yes, the first Married Christmas was wonderful, filled with light, love and a wee bit of shag-drunk-lovin'.

Dreaming of a Whiiiiiiite Christmas!

We had our first real snow yesterday. I have to say, it's odd to see the snow in the Southwest. I knew the weather tended towards snow and cold here, but the juxtoposition of ice and snow on cactus and adobe is just strange to my eyes.

Mistakes We Make

I'm beginning to wonder if that decision I made is going to affect me for the rest of my life.

I'm finishing a book now, The Memory Keepers Daughter. The basic premise is that a man makes a choice thinking he is doing the best for himself and his family, but it's an immoral choice, and he hides it from everyone but one person. The outcome of that decision haunts him for the rest of his life, destroys his family. You know, the typical "immoral secrets are a bitter poison" storyline.

But it got me thinking---what are the secrets in my life that could potentially haunt me? Have I made these decisions yet? Already, is a small secret, a choice, a decision, burrowing its way into my soul, making me bitter, unforgivable, angry? Has something I've already done begun to sour my future?

I can think of a few things.

Yuletide

This is our first Christmas Tree.

So. Cute.

So far the animal house has been good to the tree---only minimal knocking of ornaments and all the precious ones are to high for their little paws and noses to get to.

Roughly 49 to Go

I went to a sheep roast/camping trip at the family ranch of my dear friend BDH this past weekend with 20 or so of his closest friends/neighbors/work associates. I had an absolutely phenomenal time. Here's the scene:

Let me just say, fresh roasted sheep on an open spit is delish! Mouthwatering, really. So tender and rare. The only thing that fazed me for a BRIEF second were the hooves still attached to the legs in the pan. BUT that didn't stop me from eating the delicious thigh meat!!!!

So yes, the food rocked, not to mention the fun we had camping. BDH is in his thirties, so being slightly older than me means that many of his contemporaries have small children. So of course, there were lots of young children running around with dirty faces and bare feet, not wearing pants. Dogs (who normally probably look well groomed in their homes) fought over carcasses and growled at each other with a wild look in their eyes. At one point, after a few beers, we climbed a rickety old ladder into an old water tank and pounded out primal rhythms with our hands and chanted. The stars in the sky were amazing.

At one point in the night, someone brought out their guitar (and BDH pulled out his accordion) and we all stood around the fire and sang songs. And this old Tracy Chapman song got pulled out of my distant memory--"Talking About a Revolution."

And it hit me. This is what I am missing in my life. Revolution, social justice in a Real Way, not just the lip service I toss around in my politically correct world. My friends in Tucson are so...active and activists, working for change, full of idealism and ideas. I heard words and phrases tossed around that I had not heard since I left town---things like "sustainable development" and "straw-bale houses."

Where do I find that vibrancy here?

I have gotten complacent in my life, I think. I have become too self-righteous in my smug life, and I feel the tug of dissatisfaction. How is it that I no longer get my hands dirty in this world, but sit behind a desk and answer the telephone or on the couch watching TV?

Yes, I have a low income, I have financial responsibility, I have pets, I am busy. But these are not reasons for complacency. They are just excuses.

And I will not use them any longer.

This year has been hard. Living in a new, lonely city with a new husband who is gone more than he is home and a neurotic dog that eats everything is not ideal. But maybe what I am learning (every so slowly) is that life is never ideal, it just is. We all make compromises in our lives each and every day to do what we have to do to fill that void, whatever it is.

Like every year, I continue to be amazed at the generosity of my friends, who at this point are scattered across the United States. I rely on them for so much and so often, it feels like I am not able to adequately return the favor. You know who you all are and I love you so much.

So every year as my birthday nears, as I look back on my life, this year I am not satisfied. And so, I choose to look forward. I can no longer wait for my life to begin, but must begin to actually live it.

Today's Birthday Dec 1:
What a testament you are to your family. This year you take whatever legacy you were given and spiff it up until it shines. Accolades and applause follow! The winter smiles on your romantic realm. Your tenderness is appreciated. A February investment pays so well! Gemini and Aquarius people are contributors to your bottom line.

NaNoWriMo WINNER!

Life as I used to know it can resume!

I uploaded my final word count at 50,010.

I need a beer!