I don’t know anything about the US female gymnasts anymore. (Except, of course, that they’re really good.) Back in the 90s, I used to always know when gymnastics was on TV and would eat that stuff up. Now when I see gymnastics on TV, I feel nostalgic for the ’96 Olympic team and Bela Karolyi and my childhood favorite, Kim Zmeskal. I can still picture Kim’s floor routine and hear the song she used…sigh. I feel old.
Maybe it’s a symptom of my science education, but my metric of choice for evaluating progress (or lack thereof) is time. Time, time, time. So it’s been exactly a year since I first visited Portland. I’d already decided I was going to move here, sight unseen, job or no job. I received a last-minute invitation for a job interview in the Silicon Forest (Hillsboro) and arrived in Portland to beautiful weather and a clear view of Mount Hood. The interview itself was one of the worst I’ve experienced (let’s just say that the group I interviewed with – minus the manager – was openly hostile toward me), but it got me a free sneak peek of the PNW. And I met Runnerboy (who was charming then) and we had a fantastic time wandering the waterfront and Pearl District. He gave me some homemade berry crisp (with my first taste of marionberries!) for the red-eye flight back to Ohio, and I arrived in Ohio the next morning giddy with excitement.
When I arrived in Portland in October after driving cross-country, I remember how surreal it felt to drive across the Fremont Bridge again, but this time in my own car. I’m not sure when the sensation of living in Oregon switched over from surreal to real – it was sometime very recently. But a year ago, I could not have imagined my life as it is right now. Even with the mopey psychological and physical health issues I continue to wade through, life is pretty stinkin’ great. Today is filled with windows open to a cool breeze in a quiet neighborhood, sleeping in and snuggling with the sweetest cat, good coffee, and an afternoon and evening with wonderful (and my style of silly) friends. Oh happy day, indeed!
I have a run this weekend that I’ve been looking forward to for months…and I now have a sore throat/tongue and swollen glands. Maybe the upper respiratory crud of doom slash sinus infection back in May never really went away, and maybe that’s why I’ve been so inexplicably exhausted since then! Hmm…
I think that back in February or March, I talked about some grand-ish plans for having an urban garden on my deck. So, you may be wondering, how’s that garden going?
I finally planted it today! Awesome work, right?
I lost track of which pot I’d planted catnip (those are some pretty nondescript looking seeds), so I might be growing catnip and cosmos together. I should be able to tell those apart, whereas I’d have to sniff catnip and basil to figure out which is which. Let’s just say that my childhood experiences in the garden involved sunflowers. Lots of sunflowers.
Maybe I should grow some sunflowers.
Oregon decided to jump on the heat wave wagon this weekend, and I am the 1% that is displeased. Don’t get me wrong – I like a day with blue skies that doesn’t require a jacket or socks – but I need to know that there will be some cloudiness or raininess or cooler temperatures on the horizon, or I will get panicky. (Good thing I didn’t end up attending UCLA for undergrad after all, eh?) The intense sunshine makes my daytime sleepiness worse, and the promise of mild weather was what helped to lure me away from sweaty Midwest summers. Oregon, please deliver on your promises! Thank you.
I don’t have air conditioning (see: expected mild weather), so I spend my days and nights with a strategically positioned electric fan by my side. It reminds me of sticky summer nights as a kid, with my oscillating metal fan aimed at my body, sprawled across my mattress on the floor. The white noise of the fan takes me back in time, to a place where summer meant fireflies and thunderstorms.
I need a Midwest fix.
After a heinously exhausting week, I decided to attempt some “self care.” I put that in quotes because I feel like such a goof using that phrase, and because I’m not really sure how to do this “self care” stuff. Aside from sleeping and playing with the cat, my “self care” is pretty minimal these days.
It’s so stressful to go to a nail place you haven’t been before…which is how all of my pedicures have gone down. (Groupon!) Today’s wasn’t particularly relaxing, either. The girl working on my feet was distracted by everything and didn’t seem to realize that there’s nothing to massage when it comes to shins. It was almost as if she were allergic to touching calves. (Speaking of allergies, some of us get a rash when lanolin contacts our skin. Hypoallergenic lotions, please!) But then she offered to do flowers on my big toes, just as I was lamenting my boring choice of nail color and the fact that my calves were ignored. The flowers are cute, and slightly redeem the pedicure. Barely.
At any rate, my toes are ready for my upcoming relay! Woohoo!