My first fire

Over the weekend I had some time to finally get some unpacking done. I have been struggling to figure out where I want things to go and how to make things functional while still looking good. Which is hard when everything you own seems so ghetto. I'd like my couch a lot more if the pattern wasn't so...ugly. So, I'm unpacking, rearranging, hurting myself and I decide since it's a cold day and I have a stash of firewood in my trunk (for those random beach/river trips) why not get some use out of the fireplace?
I've lived in houses with fireplaces for the last 3 years of my life but I never got into the habit of actually having fires. In my old house, to have a fire you had to crawl into the fireplace to open the flue. Which was no problem when I was living with my ex. He would take care of that. When living alone, I couldn't muster up the courage to crawl in there. I mean, it's dark, and there could be spiders! So, I just never had fires. Until the very last night, when I had to burn  the junk mail that had accumulated in there, and I had A's boyfriend open the flue for that. In my temporary house there was a fireplace but since I was only there a couple months and it was never cold there, I didn't have any fires there either.
I love fires. It's one of my favorite parts of camping. I know some people hate the smell of campfires but I love it. I love the sound of fires, the smell of the smoke, the warmth of the flame. I know campfires, and fires in fireplaces are different, but not much. On a cold winter day, there's really nothing better then sitting in front of a warm fire. It's just that much better when it's inside your own home and you have access to all the modern conveniences in life.
It took me a few trips to get all the firewood in from my car.  I set up a few pieces in the fireplace and stuck some of my to-be-shredded mail in the middle. The flue is easy to open with a pull chain on the outside, below the mantle, and just like that I had a nice fire going. My plan was to start the fire and go back to unpacking what will eventually be my "office", aka the room I keep my computer in. I couldn't tear myself away from the fire though. I kept thinking how awesome it is that I can have a fire whenever I want, in the safety of my own home. So I sat on the couch and caught up on some tv that I had missed and enjoyed the sound of the fire crackling. I kept adding wood, and moving the pieces around with my poker, which is actually just a piece of particle board that fell off of my cheap bookcase. Soon I was sitting on the floor in front of the fire watching the blue flames consume the pieces of my old desk that had to be disassembled to move. I hated that solid wood desk anyway, and I can't lie and say it didn't feel good to burn something my ex had left behind. I think that sounds a bit more sadistic than it felt, but whatever.
I see a fuzzball roll by the wall to the left of the fireplace and it startles me. Ever since I washed that blue blanket, there have been massive fuzzies scaring me all around the house. Then I realized that fuzzball had legs. HOLY CRAP! Another giant spider! Oh, NO! Instinctively I jumped up from the floor and went straight into panic mode. I had to breath and tell myself to take stock of the situation. The spider was gigantic, but not quite as big as the one in the tub had been. Why, WHY were there so many huge spiders in this house that I love? The disgusting thing started moving away from the fire and I knew I had to take action. This one was on the move, which meant I didn't have time to call for help. I grabbed my broom and blindly swung in the general direction of that monster beast. I jumped back to safety before finding out I had missed it entirely. It was hiding behind my bag of to-be-shredded/burned mail. It was so big that even though it was "hiding" against a black bag in a shadow, I could still see it. I screamed at it before bringing the broom down on top of it. Again it got away and now it was running along the baseboard towards the tv. I knew it would get away completely if I didn't hit it this time. I did a little hop and screamed again while smacking the broom down hard, finally nailing the creature. I screamed, again, while jumping back towards the couch. I was shaking, breathing hard. Why couldn't the spiders I encounter here be more average in size? Why did they have to be the size of most domesticated pets? If I had tried to use my bugzooka on this one, I would have been able to feel the resistance of it's massive body, and I just can't handle that. I shakily swept the eight legged dog towards the fire, keeping as much distance as I could. Even dead, with it's legs curled in onto itself, it was still the size of those big brown spiders I usually see outside. I imagined I could hear it sizzle and scream when I swept it into the flames. I sat on the recliner and tried to steady my breathing. So much for enjoying my fire. Now there was a giant spider carcass in there. I couldn't just reach in like before. Maybe...maybe that mutant came in when I opened the flue? I'd been there a week without opening it...maybe it had crawled in from outside...the big tree out front did hang right over the house. The tree spider must have thought it would be safe in the chimney and came down when I opened the flue. It was running away from the fire when I saw it. Oh god, but that must have meant I was close to it for a long time. I was just trying to make myself feel better about it, thinking that this couldn't be normal. Gross....sick, sick, sick. I spider proofed the house damn it!
That was the motivation I needed to get back to unpacking. Only now, I was paranoid about spiders in the house. Reaching into boxes scared me now. Putting something in the dark closet was terrifying. I pushed myself to keep going like I had never seen that spider. I know that I can't let my fear run my life, but it's still hard to push through sometimes. I was moving slow, but I was getting things done. I kept the broom nearby for protection.
It felt good to finally be getting things done in the house, even if it was going slow. I couldn't find all the things I needed to get things like my computer set up, and even though the fire was now tainted, it's warmth kept bringing me back to the living room. Before I knew it, I was fighting off sleep on the couch, and I was down to my last piece of firewood. The large log was barely on fire anymore. I got a cup of water from the kitchen to douse the flames out. The small cup wasn't enough so I grabbed the coffee pot and filled it with water. I slowly, and carefully since there was a spider in there somewhere and for all I knew there could be more, poured the water over the log until it stopped sizzling. I let the last bits of smoke fly up the chimney while I brushed my teeth and put on pajamas. I swept up some bits of ash on the floor, closed the flue, and headed to bed.
I woke up to the sound of a voice outside my door. What was it saying? I could hardly make it out. Was I dreaming? There was a sound that went along with the voice. Had I left the tv on? I pushed my eye mask up and tried to wake up.
Buzz buzz buzz. Voice. Buzz buzz buzz. Voice.
What was happening? I put on my robe and went to check the living room. As soon as I opened the door I realized it was the smoke alarm I was hearing. I jumped into action mode. First I had to shut that noise off. Sure, maybe I should have checked for fire first, but my head was pounding and all I could focus on was making that sound stop. I could now hear the voice clearly, coming from the smoke detector. It was saying "carbon monoxide" between the buzzing sounds. From the hallway where the smoke alarm is I could see smoke coming from the fireplace. That damn log had never gone out completely. I pulled up the white lawn chair that had been left in my closet and pushed the silence button on the smoke detector. "Carbon monoxide" she told me again and again. I pushed the button but she wouldn't shut up. I held the button down, and that made the other smoke detectors go off. The sound was so loud. I thought my brain might explode. Finally, she shut up.
I climbed down from the chair and ran over to the fireplace. I open the flue and then that bitch was yelling at me again. I was suddenly aware of how smokey it was in the house. I climbed back up on the chair and held down the button that made the other alarms go off before shutting them up. Again, I crawled down and tried to figure out what to do. My head was so light. I caught a glimpse of the clock in the kitchen and saw it was 4 in the morning. I ran to the front door and swung it open. The cool air gave me goosebumps immediately and I realized I never closed my robe. Hi neighbors, I'm the girl who doesn't know how to properly put out fires and walks around without pants on. Awesome.
After securely closing my robe, I swung the door back and forth trying to get the smoke to dissipate. The buzzing came back and that damn woman was yelling at me again. I closed the door and crawled back up on that chair. Every time it seemed like that buzzing was louder. Again she shuts up and I know I have to do more. I open a window in the kitchen. It was a lot smokier in the house than I had realized. I ran back into the living room and opened the window there. I swung the front door back and forth again and then I noticed the log was still smoldering. Oh no, sir. You are being put out. I filled up the coffee pot again and poured it all over the log. It sizzled, but still smoked. This was a monster log. I filled up the coffee pot again but the buzzing started before I could make it back to the living room. I felt like a crazy person. The buzzing was killing my head and I couldn't get the smoke alarms to shut up. I screamed at it to stop. I told it I was trying to get the smoke out. She shut up.
I hopped down from the chair and grabbed the broom to wave the smoke away from the smoke detector. It went off immediately. Back up on the chair. More screaming. When I shut her up again I got down and went to find the fan I had yet to put in the basement for storage until summer. I plugged it in and aimed it at the open window, hoping to blow the smoke outside. I went back to fanning the front door and hoped I wouldn't hear that awful buzzing again. Then I remembered the coffee pot full of water in the kitchen. I grabbed it and before pouring it over the log, I used my "poker" to flip the log over hoping maybe if I got the other side wet it would finally go out. It was still smoking, but now the water was coming out onto the tiles in front of the fireplace. I found some napkins to mop up the mess and when it was all cleaned up I sat on the couch to stare at the log that wouldn't stop burning. I had to wait it out. I was delirious. At least the smoke finally started to clear up. I was mad at myself. Mad for not realizing the log was still burning before I went to bed. Mad that I had warmed up the house only to have to cool it down again with freezing temperatures outside. Mad that I had really almost killed myself. Hey, at least I knew the smoke/carbon monoxide detectors worked properly. And thank God for that!
I finally had the smoke mostly cleared out, nearly 30 minutes after waking up in a daze. I grabbed a blanket and laid on the couch to wait for that log to finally go out all the way. It was nice to have a cozy blanket, freshly washed, wrapped around me with the fan going and freezing air flowing in through the open windows. Soon, I was asleep again, having strange dreams about monster dogs and running for my life.
How would you react if you woke up to the same situation? It's easy to say you would know exactly how to handle things, but how clear would your head really be after slowly losing oxygen throuhgout the night? Maybe I should be embarrassed to share this story, but I'm not. It's been a couple days now and I still don't feel completely normal. I've got a kind of nasty cough and I had a massive headache which has now been replaced with a light headed feeling that won't go away. This is my life people. The house still smells like smoke. My coat and scarf, which were left in the living room, reek of smoke so much that no matter where I go I can still smell the smell of fire.
And that's the story of how I almost killed myself this weekend.

Arachnophobia (strong language warning)

Before I had ever moved my things into my new house, before I had even scheduled the movers, I had an encounter of the eight legged kind. After work on this particular Monday, I decided to take some small odds and ends to the new house. Things that would break easy, or were just easier in my mind for me to take care of. Like my jewelry holder, the bag of random wrapping paper and gift bags, that glass pitcher that didn't fit into any box, that box of breakables that didn't have a lid. I loaded up my car and headed to my lovely new home, excited to see it again.
I parked under the car port, grabbed a couple things and headed into the house. I set my purse and things on the kitchen counter and got out my camera to take the "before I moved in the house looked like this" pictures. I walked through the living room *click*, the dining room *click*, into the kitchen *flash*, through the hall *click*, and into the bathroom. I leaned back towards the tub to get a picture of the wall of mirrors. I turned around to take a picture of the tiled shower and HOLYFUCKINGHELL! I was suddenly back in the hall, panting and trying to comprehend what I had just seen.
No way. There is no way I just saw a spider that big in my tub. There is no fucking way that I just saw a spider that big, in my new tub, inches away from where I had been standing. There is no fucking way that a spider that big exists outside of tropical climates. I took a step back into the bathroom, shaking, to peer over the edge of the tub. I saw legs. I jumped back. Dear God...it's real! I really saw that! Fuckfuckfuck. I kept my eyes on the edge of the tub, to make sure it didn't come crawling over the edge. I talked to myself.
Now K, maybe you're exaggerating the size in your head. Listen K, it's going to be ok.
I take a step back into the bathroom and peer a little further into the tub this time to see the entire thing. Oh sickgrossfuckdamnitmotherfucker that thing is a GIANT! It must have mated with a fucking dog. Why is this thing real?? Why is this thing in my tub?? I walked into the living room, keeping my eye on the tub. Making sure the tub is in my sights at all times. That thing is literally the biggest spider I've ever seen in real life. I honestly don't think it would fit down the drain if I tried to wash it down. And to wash it down I would have to get close to it. Oh God, and what if I tried to wash it down and I failed and scare it and it comes out of the tub after me?! I can't handle this. I start breathing hard again, keeping my eyes on the tub while I pace the living room.
What am I going to do? I have nothing but breakables at the house. No broom to whack the dog spider with, no bugzooka to capture this unauthorized intruder with, not that I believe this giant would actually fit in the bugzooka chamber. I don't know what to do. I start to panic. Tears spring to my eyes. I'm trapped here. I can't leave and go get something or someone to help me. What if I leave and come back...and it's gone?! I'll never know where it went! I cannot possibly move my things into this house knowing at any moment I could come face to face with an amazonian spider!

You think I'm crazy right? I know. It's ok. That's why I'm writing this. I have actual arachnophobia. I've had this problem for as long as I can remember. It's the reason my mom bought me my bugzooka. Almost everyone brushes my fear off as me being just another girl afraid of bugs. Most people don't realize how serious my phobia is until they see me in a panic attack, and even then, some people still don't get it. I'm writing this to show how those panic attacks look. How my brain works when I see a spider. I think that people assume this is just something I can get over if I stop being a wuss, but that's just the thing. This is a phobia. It's an extreme or irrational fear or aversion to something. That's the definition of phobia. It's not something I can control (without help). I don't like the powerless feeling that overcomes me when I'm faced with my fear. I'm normally a rational, logical person. But when it comes to spiders, I seem to lose all control.

I sent a text to my friend A about the spider. Hoping her or her boyfriend could come save me. In fact, I sent a lot of texts hoping to get help. The whole time, pacing my living room and keeping an eye on the tub. In my mind I could see the spider crawling up over the edge and coming after me out of the bathroom. What would I do if that happened? I was way too terrified to actually step on it. Can you imagine the crunch it would make?! Sick! With it's legs, that thing was the size of my fist. Literally the biggest spider I have ever seen in my life. I realize I'm repeating myself, but that's what my brain does in these situations. My friend D said he could come kill the spider for me. Of course, it took a little convincing for him to realize I was serious when I asked. I kept trying to get myself to leave the house. To get into my car, even just get out the front door. I couldn't get myself out of the living room for anything more than another peek in the tub to make sure the monster was still there. When I thought of going back to my car, I could easily imagine more of these giant mutant spiders crawling along the underside of the carport, which would mean they would be right above my head. What if one dropped down onto me?! If I went on the porch, same problem. They could be everywhere! If there was one there would be more right? I waited anxiously for D to arrive to kill that spider, but I couldn't leave my spot. A asked me to send her a picture of the thing causing me so much stress.
A picture meant I had to get close again. But I had to have some validation. I had to prove that my fear was justified. I took a step into the bathroom again. The legs were still there. I took a deep breath and looked away for a moment. I turned my phone camera on and aimed it at the tub from where I stood in the doorway. I held it high above my head to get a clear shot into the tub without me having to step any closer than necessary. Zoom is my friend. I started to shake. What if it moved? What if the shutter sound scared it? What if the flash woke it up? What was I going to do? I pressed the button and ran back into the living room, breathing hard and trying to stifle my tears. I could barely even look at the picture I took. Just enough to make sure it wasn't too blurry. But it was too blurry. I had to take another picture. Which meant I had to go back into the bathroom. Damn it. It took me three tries before I got one clear enough to send. I was shaking and I could no longer hold the tears back. Each picture I took, I thought for sure would be the one that sent this spider into a rage. Thankfully, it never moved. I got the reaction I expected from the picture, laughter. There's no way I could get close enough to get a picture that would do my fear justice.
Where was D? What was taking him so long? I stayed in the living room, glancing from the tub to the window, hoping that any moment I would see D's car turn down my street. I wanted so badly to go outside. I was so hot. Warm from all my anxiety. My face was red and tears were streaming down my cheeks. Every time I checked to make sure the spider was still in the tub I cried harder. It was real. I wasn't imagining it. And I couldn't do anything about it. I wanted so badly to be a normal person. I wanted so badly to be someone that could stomp on that fucker with no hesitation. But even the thought of it sent my mind into a frenzy. It could be super fast! It could be poisonous! It could TOUCH me. This was not ok. This is my dream house. It cannot have spiders the size of house pets! What was I going to do if this was the norm at this house? I couldn't live there.
I was literally paralyzed with fear. I couldn't move beyond the living room. I tried to go into the kitchen but two things stopped me. 1) The knowledge that if I left my watch post in the living room and came back to find the spider missing, I would absolutely not be ok. It would be my fault that it got away and I didn't know where it had gotten to and 2) There could be more spiders just like that one in the rest of the house. Just on the other side of any door. On the ceiling of any room. Hiding in the corner of any closet or cupboard. Anything that I couldn't see from where I stood had the possibility of harboring one of the biggest spiders I've ever seen. I could see it clearly in my mind and even when I told myself to calm down, even when I reminded myself that I had been in this house before with no sightings of giant arachnids, I couldn't actually move. I just kept looking back and forth, from the tub to the window that faced the street. When would D get here?
It felt like forever before he showed up. Probably because of my maniacal pacing. He laughed when he saw me. I know I was a sight...red face, trembling with fear, unable to speak properly. I hate not being able to hold my composure. I pointed to the bathroom when he asked me where it was and I backed as far away as I could while still being able to see the bathroom, and not be too close to the fireplace, which surely hid more monsters in it's dark abyss of a chimney. Even D, who has been overseas and seen those literal giant spiders admitted it was a larger spider than would be seen indoors in the northwest. It was so large that it didn't even move when he went in to kill it. It never moved. I made him flush it.
For all we know it could have been dead the whole time. But guess what? That doesn't matter to me. Dead spider, live spider, plastic spider, picture of a spider, spider on the tv screen....They all have the same affect on me. You're supposed to be able to free the things you catch in the bugzooka. I can't, simply because I can't actually touch something so close to a living spider. I can't touch a picture of a spider. I can't wipe a dead spiders guts off the wall. I just can't. I try. I really do sometimes. But the closer I get, the shakier I get and I just can't seem to get myself under control.
I made D walk through the house with me, to give him a tour at the same time we checked to make sure there were no more mutant eight legged things around. I am so incredibly grateful to have friends that will come help me when I'm a blubbering mess. A few days after this I asked some friends to come over and help me "spider proof" my new house before I moved my things in. I got spray to use around the perimeter of the house to keep spiders out. I got a can of bug spray for any live ones I may come face to face with without any kind of "weapon". And I got more than a few things to plug in that emit a supersonic sound that is supposed to keep spiders and bugs away. There is now one of those in every room of the house, 3 in the basement. We decobwebbed, sprayed, and searched until we had done all we could. Whether or not these measures actually keep bugs and spiders away, I don't know. But they give me enough peace of mind to continue living in this house.
I still haven't put my foot in the spot that spider was. I still check every room as I enter it, to make sure there's no spider there. Since seeing that spider in my tub, the biggest spider I've ever seen in person, I feel I'm better able to handle the "normal" size spiders that I come across. I still cant get close to them. I still get shaky. But I can at least keep the tears back while I trap them in the bugzooka chamber.
There are really two reasons I chose to write about this. The first, it's a funny story. When I'm not in the moment, being terrified and screaming for help, even I can acknowledge the way I act is funny. The second reason, to shed some light on what goes on for a person with arachnophobia. This has always been an issue for me. I have had to deal with this for as long as I can remember. I've gotten to the point where I don't run away when there's a spider on the tv (or in a video game), but I still can't look at it. I have spider encounter stories of all kinds. In the car, walking through webs, waking up with a spider hanging from the ceiling above my face. I've been trapped in the bedroom, in the kitchen, in the hallway. Sometimes when I use a shoe to squish a spider (after a lot of pep talking of course) I can't wear that shoe for months, if ever again. I know that it's ridiculous. I know that. I really can't help it. I want to. I don't want to act this way. I don't want to be the girl running, screaming and crying through haunted houses because of imagined spiders (yes, that really happened once). But I just can't help it. It's real fear. It's so very real and I think that's what people don't realize. I've heard people say that it's an attention seeking thing, that it's just a way to get sympathy, that I should just get over it, that I'm a drama queen. One of my ex boyfriends actually refused to keep killing spiders for me because he said I needed to get over it myself. I might agree if I didn't feel what it feels like to have a panic attack at the sight of something that's actually natural.
It's not funny to mess with someone because of their phobia. It's not funny to send someone into a panic attack. I know that no matter what I say, some people will always think I'm just being crazy. I just wanted to hopefully shed a little light on why I act the way I act. Some people have phobias of snakes, some have phobias of slugs or eyeballs, and some people really are just drama queens. But phobias are real fear. Sure, they can make for some funny stories but please be nice to people about their phobias. 

I"M ALIVE! (it's a long one guys)

It's been a while eh? I've been busy. And without internet at home. So this is just going to be a little recap of what my life has been over the past couple of months.

INSANITY!

I could really leave it at that if I wanted to but I won't. I put in my 30 day notice at the house in the crack hood and I did that before I ever found a new place. I know a lot of people would say I'm crazy for that, but I had to get out of that dump and if I didn't push myself I don't know if it would have ever happened. By the end of the month, with 2 or 3 days left until I had to be out of the house, I still hadn't found anything and not for lack of trying. I called over 40 places in that month, and hardly saw any of them. Half the places wouldn't call me back. A few places set up appointments for me to see the place, and then would call to cancel it because the "house wasn't really ready for viewing just yet". Well then why did you put it on the market? Why did you make appointments for people to view it? Seriously, that happened more than just a couple times. Add to that the 50 or so emails I sent out, and it's clear I was really trying.
The emails hardly ever lead to anything. Most of the time I would get an email back that made it obvious it was a scam. Email after email came in claiming that the owner of the house was in Nigeria on a mission and asked for all of my personal information in order to get the keys shipped to me. Because you know, who wouldn't just give away all their personal info and thousands of dollars before ever seeing the inside of a house? After a while I started writing back all angry like because, well, because they were pissing me off. Here I am, trying to find myself a home and I get my hopes up over and over again just to have them crushed. It's annoying to say the least.
Naturally I turned to facebook for help. I posted a status asking for help finding a place. It just so happens that someone on my friends list was in the process of selling her house and since it would be a couple of months before the sale finalized, she offered it to me as a temporary place to live. It was a win win. She didn't want the house to lie vacant and I only needed something for a month or 2. And she gave me a pretty killer deal.
With the help of my absolutely amazing friends, we moved my belongings from the crack hood in SE to my new (temporary) house in Tigard. It took a while...a loooong while. K and A brought their men folk to help with heavy lifting and D came to lend a hand too. With 2 small pick ups, my grampas truck, a borrowed trailer and 2 small cars, it took one trip (and a lot of effort) to get everything over to the new place. I led the way, lost a couple people on the freeway and then got the rest of us lost by missing the second to last turn. I stopped my truck in the middle of the road to get out and have a little freak out in the street with my friends about being lost. Thankfully D was able to use his gps to help us get back on track. We got things unloaded, took a minute to breath and check out the house and then got back to work. We met back at the old house, minus D (some people have to sleep apparently) and got to work on the cleaning process. Yes, when I say I have amazing friends, I mean it. They helped me move, and clean my old house. I ordered us some pizza and we cleaned our little hearts out. We ended up with another truck load of stuff to take to the new house. And a truck load of garbage. Because my old landlady didn't allow me to have more than one can of garbage picked up per week and I apparently create a lot of garbage. Thanks to K's man for taking the garbage away for me. After dusting, scrubbing, vacuuming and scarfing down pizza we were finally done around 2 or 3 in the morning. K had offered to stay the night with me for my first night in my new place so we headed back with the last truckload of junk. Of course, that wasn't the end of it. I still had to take my grampa's truck back to him, in North Portland, so he could use it the next day...er that same day. By the time we were finally able to get to sleep it was after 4 in the morning and we were exhausted!
The next morning at 10 I had to go back to the old house for the "final walk through" with the landlady. I also had to pick up the last thing left there, my scooter in the garage. I never really got along with my landlady, but this walk through was the thing that really made me dislike her. Even before the front door was open she was looking around with disdain. Like I had ruined the house. Admittedly, I didn't take great care of the yard. That's well documented. But it's not like there was a couch laying in the driveway. We went inside and she continued to look saddened by just being there. I will freely admit that the carpet was not in good shape. BUT! It wasn't new carpet when I moved in there. And I lived there for 3 years. And it was crappy carpet. I looked stuff up people, and 3 years is a long time for crappy carpet, but who knows how long it was in the house before I got there. My point is, she would have had to replace the carpet anyway. It was always nasty. The only reason it didn't look better is that I hadn't been able to get a carpet cleaner before my time was up. We walked into the bedroom and she did the run-your-finger-along-the-windowsill-to-check-for-dust thing and asked me why I never dusted. She told me most people dusted their windowsills. We went into the bathroom and she noticed the smoke that had seeped through the paint from the years of steamy showers. See, the tenant before me smoked inside the house. After only a couple weeks of living in that house, the smoke had started to seep through the poorly painted walls and ceiling. It sicked me out, but no matter how many times I scrubbed the walls, it just kept coming back, and since that house was ghetto anyway, I gave up trying. I explained that to her and she shook her head. She looked at the window sill in the bathroom and said how terrible it looked. I told her I didn't realize that it hadn't been painted with non waterproof paint until it had already started to deteriorate. Not a good excuse I know, but it's the truth. She told me that most people would have put up another shower curtain rod on that side to make sure to avoid that. Actually, I'm pretty sure "most" people don't do that because "most" landlords would either use waterproof paint in a place that will get wet or tell the tenant to be sure to do something to avoid getting that wet. And, even with another shower curtain, the whole room gets steamed up when there's a shower running. And I was there for 3 freakin years. We moved into the kitchen and she looked at the stove. She pointed to the drip tray pans under the burners, which were dirty, sure. She said "Oh, those are expensive to replace." I almost laughed in her face. I told her that they are under $20 for all 4 from what I know, because I have replaced them before and I just didn't have time this time. She said "Well, yea for the cheap ones. But you have to get specific sizes."
Ok, first of all lady, if you want to put expensive stove burner drip trays in this ghetto ass house, on that ghetto ass stove in that ghetto ass kitchen, that's on you. Second, it's a standard size stove! The trays only come in like 2 sizes. Big, and small. And third, I checked and those drip trays are well within normal wear and tear territory and she would have had to replace them after I moved no matter what. That was the last straw for me. I didn't go all crazy, but I did decide it was time to tell her what was up. I told her that everything we had talked about, the condition of the house, was all normal wear and tear for someone that had lived there for 3 years. I pointed out to her that the carpet was not new when I moved in, that they hadn't washed the walls before painting over the smoke, that they hadn't provided me with a mower adequate enough to take care of the acre of uneven, rocky land out back, and that while I knew there was some work that needed to be done, I hadn't left holes in the wall (R helped me by patching up that one hole from way back when), ripped out electrical outlets, torn holes in the carpet, set things on fire...I have seen some trashed houses, and this house was not trashed. She noted on the walk through sheet that the house was left dirty. Yep, stayed up til 4 in the morning to be told I'm a slob. Best feeling ever I tell ya.
She asked about the mower, because apparently my ex had written her a letter promising to replace the mower that broke when we moved in. I told her with all honesty that I didn't know anything about that. I really had no idea that my ex had written her that letter. I told her we had broken up and I would like to avoid talking to him if possible. She asked for his number and I gladly gave it to her. She agreed that the if there was an issue with the mower, it would be my ex's responsibility and she would be the one to contact him. That my friends, is what's known as a silver lining. Apparently learning of the break up made her more sympathetic and suddenly she wasn't so mean.
K helped me set some things up at the new house. Specifically...a shoe room. I lucked out with a 3 bedroom house and I figured since I had the space and wasn't going to be doing any major unpacking, why the heck not treat myself to a shoe room? We hauled my bookcases upstairs and used them to showcase my favorite shoes. I only had that room for 2 months but I gotta tell ya, it really helped me wear more of my shoes.
For the next 2 months, I continued the exhausting search for a new home. I saw a few places but none of them were good. L went with me to see one of them.
In the pictures on the ad it looked perfect. There were cute little built ins, a sun porch, and a loft room upstairs. And for less than $700 a month! As soon as we stepped inside we knew it wasn't the one for me. The door opens into the "sun room" which had laminate flooring. The built ins were in this room. Cute enough. To the left was...well, actually I'm not sure what it would be considered. It seemed that this house had 2 living rooms and a largeish bedroom. But there were no doors. Doorways, but no actual doors. So, no privacy. In the bedroom was the only bathroom. I had decided that the next house I lived in would not have the only bathroom located in the bedroom. Because that's how the old house was and I know how inconvenient it can be. So that was a negative in my book. Plus, it was super small. If you sat on the toilet your knees would practically touch the sink. Also in the bedroom was a narrow staircase leading upstairs the the "loft". I was excited to see that. In my head I imagined my pool table going up there and that being the game room. I realized quickly that would not ever happen. The room was incredibly small, and even when I was standing in the place that had the highest ceiling point, I couldn't stand up straight. It's not like I'm even tall at 5'6". L and I headed back down to check out the kitchen. It was TEENY! If the oven door was open, it touched the wall and you couldn't walk past it. The washer and dryer were in there as well, and were itsy bitsy. I didn't even know those machines came that small. The fridge was blocking half of the cabinets along the wall and as I walked towards the back I noticed the floor was slanting. Towards the back door you could even see the slant of the floor it was so severe. That would have been dangerous for my drunken friends. They had advertised a fire pit in the back yard so I went to check that out. It was just some cinder blocks in a circle. Cool.
I went back in and made another round through the house. That's when I noticed the edge of the carpet bubbling in the bedroom and one of the other rooms. As I made my way back through the bedroom I noticed the door to the loft room was now closed. I asked L if she had closed it since I know I didn't, but of course she hadn't because I was the last one out of that room. Either the house is so slanty that doors close themselves, or that place is haunted. I thanked the guy that came to show the house for his time and we left.
House hunting is rough, whether you're buying or renting.
Living in the house in Tigard was saving me some money and I was eventually able to pay off my credit card. I made some changes and worked some things around and was able to give myself more of a rent budget. Which immediately helped in finding houses that weren't so...slanty. One Saturday, I had 2 viewings scheduled and I couldn't have been more excited. One of the houses was in a great neighborhood and looked like it had character, which I wanted. The other was in an alright neighborhood but looked gorgeous inside. First up was the one in the good neighborhood. Blocks from where I spend the bulk of my childhood. When I called to set up the appointment I was told there would be one other woman there looking at the house with me. I got to the house before the agent guy who was supposed to be showing the house. I was waiting on the porch when another woman came up and asked if I was there for the open house. I guess so? She poked around the side of the house to see if there was anyone in the back yard or something. She found no one. We waited together on the porch, and more people showed up. First another woman, then a man on a bike, then a couple. The guy showed up about 10 minutes late and as he let us in he told us how the process would work. The office was closed until the following Monday, so whoever called to leave a voice mail first would be the first person contacted about their interest in the house. If that person changed their mind or didn't qualify, they would move down the line. So, it was officially a race.
There was a maintenance man in one of the rooms painting, and had just finished painting the bathroom so we actually couldn't view those. The house was small. Average size living room, decent bedroom, another who knows what it's called kind of room near the front. There was a pass through from the bedroom to the bathroom. That was being painted so I couldn't walk through there. The washer and dryer were hidden beneath a hinged counter in the small kitchen. The back yard looked nice and the deck out back was pretty sweet too. There was no closet in the bedroom. It had a weird inset kind of space along that back wall that would have been the closet I assume. I'm no sure how to explain it but I would have had to make it work and I was hoping for a place that just worked, without having to get all creative about it. By the time I decided to leave, another couple had come to see the house and 3 people had already left. Which means they had a chance to get ahead of me in line on the phone call list. I didn't want to call before seeing the other house, and as I walked back to my car I saw 2 of the other people that had left, walking down the street on their phones. One of the couples came out and got right on the phone before I was able to drive away.
I headed to the second house feeling slightly disappointed but excited to see this one. I got there before the guy that would be showing me the house so I took the opportunity to sit in my car and watch the activity along the street. After the last house in the hood, I wanted to make sure my new house felt safe. I didn't see any fist fights or couches in the driveway of the house across the street. There was an mechanic shop on the corner that seemed to service nicer vehicles. On my old street, the nicest car around was the one the drug dealer drove when he came to bring my neighbors whatever he was bringing. I saw a Mercedes parked a couple houses down, and a few other nicer cars close by as well. I took it as a good sign. I also like that the house was hidden behind a large wooden fence, complete with no trespassing signs. It felt secure.
The guy showed up and I was finally able to see what was inside. After all the crappy houses I had seen, I know that they can make things look cute and spacious and amazing in pictures, but when you see it in person, it's completely different. Much like online dating actually. But this house...Oh, this house really was amazing. On the front porch, before the front door was even open, I fell in love. From the front door, you walk into the living room. All hardwood floors, light but not white paint on the walls, and these cute little lights on the walls. There's a large fireplace with a real mantel and a large mirror on the wall above that. To the left is the dining room, with adorable built in cabinets (on my list of wants) in each corner, a large mirror on the far wall just across from the large, original old school windows. Turn right and you're in the kitchen. It kind of took my breath away. All brand new, stainless steel, super nice appliances. Massive amounts of counter and cupboard space. A double door fridge! Oh my.
From there I checked out the massive master bedroom, with a walk in closet (the only one I'd seen on my 2.5 month long search of houses). Right next to the master bedroom is the door that leads to the basement. There's also a second door on the landing of the stairs that leads out to the back yard, and another large mirror on the wall. The basement was finished, not creepy like I expected. The washer and dryer were down there. It was all painted a beige-y color and didn't give me the heeby jeebies like most basements do. It didn't smell weird and it was well lit. I wouldn't be terrified to do my laundry down there (washer and dryer, another thing on my list of wants). I headed back upstairs and then upstairs again (!!) to the loft space. A real loft space. All carpeted, aside from the one end that has a random patch of laminate flooring by the window (also an original to the house), and a door on the opposite end that leads out the the MASSIVE sun deck. Oh my lord, a sun deck! It even has a porch light out there. I went back downstairs and checked out the bathroom. It has an incredible amount of mirrored medicine cabinets on the wall above the nice pedestal type sink. It has one of those giant shower heads that makes it seem like you're showering under a heavenly rainfall or something and the tile in the shower is all pretty and new. Then to the second bedroom, which is small, but has a door that goes outside to the carport (on top of which is the sun deck). There is crown molding around the entire house, and it's all hardwood floors aside from the loft which is carpeted and the kitchen which has some hardwood looking flooring. The guy told me how the last tenants had completely trashed the house and they basically had to tear it down and rebuild everything but the floors and the few old school windows. The owner of the house works with Standard TV and Appliance so that's why there are all those nice shiny things in the kitchen. I was completely smitten. The guy told me to call the woman I had set up the appointment with to get an application and I went on my way. I called the woman from my car outside the house. I left a voice mail and then I had to wait.
Waiting is always so hard. On Monday morning I called again to make sure she had gotten my message and she faxed an application to me at my office. I filled it out as fast as I could and returned it and then I had to wait some more. After some urging from a coworker friend, I added a letter to my application that said how much I love the house and the reasons why and pledged to take good care of it which would be easy for me as a single woman with no pets or children. More waiting.
The following Friday was Veterans day so I had the day off and had plans to spend time with my mom and grampa for the holiday. First though, there was an inspection at the house I was currently living in. It was the first time I was able to be home when the inspector people came in. They had been there twice before and when I came home from work I found all the blinds in my house open, my heater turned down, and my closet door open. Since I didn't have to work I planned to give them a little piece of my mind about how it's not cool to do that. I know someone is buying the house, but in the mean time I do still live here and even though you're coming in to do inspections you shouldn't touching all my stuff and messing with things. However, I didn't have to say anything. The buyer was with the inspection guy and her realtor. She had been the one opening the blinds. To make sure the house got enough light. She apologized for leaving them open and then her realtor thanked me for my time and patience and gave me a gift card to Starbucks. Forgiven.
Well played people, well played.
I drove to meet my mom and her friends at an Applebees (naturally, since they have the free Veterans menu) and I brought her some flowers cuz we're sappy like that. As we're sitting at the table, I get a phone call and jump up to find a quiet place to answer it. It's the woman about the house calling to ask some clarification questions about my application. Are you the one that has pets? And you don't have kids? And do you have the first, last and deposit all ready to go? Can you explain the misdemeanor theft on your record from 2004? With questions answered she got off the phone to consult with the owner (she's his assistant) and promised to call me back. I went back to the table and my mom asked if it was good news. I told her it wasn't news at all, just questions. I continued to eat, since my mom and her friends had finished before I got there. Another phone call and another jump and run to the corner of the restaurant. Assistant woman asks me if I'd be available that afternoon to come sign the lease papers.
I GOT THE HOUSE! I literally ran back to the table. I jumped up and down while squealing "I got the house! I got the house!" over and over again. My mom and her friends started clapping. Other tables started staring. I started crying from the overwhelming amount of joy I felt. I got the house! I got hugs and congratulations from people I had never met or only met a time or 2. It felt like a scene from a movie. I had never had such a public outburst of emotion like that. It was kinda fun.
Mom and I went to see grampy, and then she tagged along with me when I went to go sign the papers. There were still a few things to be done at the house so I didn't get the keys just then. As I signed the papers I couldn't help but think about how much my life has changed. I felt so adult. I didn't have to have someone else sign anything. I did it all on my own. Well, ok...I did it with help from my grampa. Without him I wouldn't have had the first, last and deposit to put down right away and from what the assistant lady tells me, that was one of the things that gave me an advantage (as if I didn't have enough going for me with the full time job for 6 years, no kids and no pets thing). Still, I was signing a contract as an adult, all on my own. It's the first time in my life I've done that. I've always had other people on the lease, if I was even on the lease at all. It felt...amazing. There's really no other word for it. I felt self sufficient and proud and excited and happy.
I decided to hire movers for the second move. I couldn't fathom putting my friends through all that again and after only a couple of months. I figured I might as well do this as stress free as possible. And it just so happened that my counselor lady had a moving company recommendation. I called and set up a move date for the Saturday after Thanksgiving; No hassle, and super affordable (if you're in the Portland area and need some affordable movers, check out Super Movers).
They showed up on time and ready to get to work. I can't lie, I was excited to see that I got 2 cute guys around my age as my movers. I showed them where everything was and they went to work. They were fast, efficient, and had a good attitude the entire time. They were cracking jokes the whole morning. The shorter one was calling the other one cupcake and making fun of him for not using his "magic words". When I asked him to please move something he would yell "See cupcake? She knows how to use her magic words!" After an hour and a half, all of my belongings were packed safely in the giant truck and we were on our way to the new house.
They checked out the new house and asked me if I liked to have parties. Apparently that's the only reason you have a big house as a single person. It's true for me though. They started to unload things and asked me where to put boxes. I told them to put everything in the living room and dining room. They asked me if I was sure about a hundred times. Honestly though, I didn't really know what was in most of the boxes so I wouldn't know where to tell them to put them. They told me I was making it too easy for them. They put my mattress in the bedroom without me having to ask, along with my dresser and all the bags of my clothes (what? I ran out of boxes). Then came the pool table. I wanted that to go in the basement. "I knew there was a catch!" said not cupcake. I thought for sure it wasn't going to happen. They thought it might not happen. Not cupcake was ready to give up, but cupcake was determined. And you know what? After about 15 minutes, somehow they got that thing down there! It will stay there forever now. Those guys were really awesome.
It came time to pay, and it was significantly cheaper than I was expecting (under $300 for nearly 4 hours!). As not cupcake wrote out the receipt he told me "if anything is broken, cupcake did it" with a laugh and handed me my copy and their card. Then they were on their way and I was left alone in my new, beautiful home.
That was last weekend. I have barely unpacked anything at all. I love my new house so much, but I have been really feeling overwhelmed with life. I have to unpack everything, but there is so much space I don't know where to put things. What a good problem to have. The walk in closet in the bedroom only came with one short rod for me to hang my clothes on...and that's just not enough for this girly girl. So before I can put all my clothes away, I have to install a rod in the closet. I've been living out of bags in the meantime. There's a small cupboard under the stairs to the loft that I call my Harry Potter cupboard. It's perfect for storing my holiday decorations and wrapping paper...but it looks all gross inside. Dark and dingy. So I want to slap a coat of white paint in there before I put anything inside. Same goes for the cupboards in the hall. They're dark and dreary and dirty, and before I put things away I want to clean them up. But I have no time to do that it seems. I have a house warming party, a pj party, volunteer shifts, holiday parties... all of them scheduled before I knew about my move. I have vacation time coming up at the end of the month, but I need my house to be set up and functional before then because I have things to do. And I still have to put together and wrap up all the Christmas presents I've got and my vacation time conveniently lands right after Christmas.
Add to all that normal happy type stress the fact that the holidays this year are totally bringing me down, and I'm going just a little out of my mind. I don't mind having a small family, I don't mind not celebrating holidays that a "majority" of people partake in, and I don't mind being on my own. What I do mind is when it seems that people pity me for not having holiday celebrations. I hate the fact that everyone seems to assume that we all celebrate the same holidays. I hate the fact that when I get asked about my holiday plans, I get a look of sadness when I say I have none. I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad. Somehow they end up making me feel bad. I know people love Christmas and all...But I don't care about it. I never have. Sure, I like getting presents and giving presents. I love the feeling when I give someone something that is just perfect for them and they love it. I actually love wrapping presents. And I'll admit, Christmas lights are pretty. But I don't like the massive consumerism behind the holidays. Thanksgiving is less about giving thanks and more about the food and preparing for Black Friday. Before Halloween was even over, Christmas was being shoved down our throats. We're supposed to decorate accordingly, prepare baked goods, plan out a holiday meal, buy and wrap presents for our loved ones, find the perfect outfit for holiday parties, spend the day (a whole day!?) with your family and don't forget New Years is just around the corner! Does this not seem like a lot of pressure to anyone else?
I suppose most people just grin and bear it because it's the holiday season and that's just what it's like. I totally understand that. Just try to realize that not everyone in the world celebrates the same holidays. Why is there so much talk of Christmas, and almost nothing about Hanukkah? Why do you look at someone with sad eyes when they tell you they had Burger King for Thanksgiving? The holiday season is about love and kindness. Try to remember that, because when you forget, it just makes people sad. That's the end of ym little PSA.

So now you're all updated. Obviously this doesn't cover everything that's gone on in the last few months and I have some good stories to share, but for now, this is all.

Strange day

So far today has been...interesting....

I ran out to my car, thinking I was running late to work (as I always think, and as always, I was a few minutes early) and realized it was not summer any more and would need a jacket. So, in my flat shoes, I ran back through the garage to go inside for a coat. Only, 2 steps in and suddenly my right foot was sliding off to the side and the ground was rushing up to meet my face. I heard myself let out a strange yelp and then a loud slap as my right hand crashed hard onto the concrete floor. For a moment, I just laid there. Wondering if the pain was bad enough to warrant a few tears or if I could get up and go about my business. I chose to get up. That's when the pain really made itself noticed. My hip was throbbing, my hand was swelling rapidly, both of my knees were stinging and my arm was tingling. I took a step forward and wobbled a bit and then told myself I was fine and went inside for a jacket.
As I walked back to my car I realized how warm the palm of my hand was. It was bright red. I checked out my knees once I was in the car. They were stinging because I had skinned them...and yet, my tights had no holes. Layers of skin came off my legs, and yet my tights were fine...I took that as a good sign.
I headed to work trying to avoid using my throbbing right hand.
As I merged onto the freeway, a semi-truck came up on my right. When I glanced over the driver was frantically waving at me. I laughed and waved back. Someone was having a good morning.
I drove about a mile and the semi caught back up to me. Again, he was waving. I laughed again but deliberately changed my speed to make sure I wasn't next to him for long.
Thanks to traffic, he caught up again. This time he was yelling something. Not only could I see him leaning out of his window and yelling, but I could kind of hear him through the still broken back passenger window. I couldn't make out what he was saying. This time I slowed my pace to try to stay behind him. He slowed down too...and paced me for about a mile before traffic let up enough for me to punch it and get the hell up outta there.
What the heck? There must have been something hanging out of the trunk, right? I mean, I had just put a load of laundry in the trunk to take care of after work...maybe something got caught? Maybe something was hanging out of one of the doors? Could I possibly be one of the morons that drives around with a flat tire without even knowing? When I got to work and parked, I walked around my car...nothing. Nothing at all that I could possibly connect to someone trying to flag me down. I don't even have one bumper sticker on that bitch.
Even though I had packed heels along to wear for the day, I decided to keep my flats on since my knees were still kinda in pain. And now my hip was really starting to complain.
Let's not forget that Occupy Portland is going on today. Literally in front of my building. We could watch the gathering form along the waterfront. Some of my coworkers went down to join in the march.
Why mention this? To go along with my already interesting day, when I went to get some lunch I met a guy who was part of the rally. He had a paper plate attached to the back of his hat that said something like "clones for peace". He introduced me to his dog. These are the men I meet, people.
One more fun fact: My tights didn't rip when layers of skin attached themselves to my garage floor, but when I pulled my tights up after going pee, an instant hole formed. And no, it wasn't on the knee. What the hell?!

Here's hoping this day continues in this fashion, only with less pain. And just so we're clear, I'm not looking for pity. I'm not wallowing in pain. In fact, when I picture myself falling, I laugh. Go ahead, picture it. Girl in business attire, runs into her garage, all light on her feet, and then suddenly her leg whips out from under her and she's on her face. That's funny. Maybe it wasn't funny at that moment...but it's definitely funny now.
All wobbly. Slip, smack! That's how that went. I'll re-enact it for you sometime.

It's Britney Bitch!

I saw a Groupon deal one day a few months ago for Britney Spears concert tickets. For only $60 I could get 2 tickets. I shouldn't really be spending my money on things that I don't need, but when I saw Nicki Minaj was part of the tour too, I just couldn't resist. It was only $60, and how many opportunities would I really get to see THE Britney Spears live in concert? Probably plenty, but you never know! I got 2 tickets.

Click through to read all about it! There are pics and a beautiful love story.

Even Small Families: An explanation

I realize that I've been quiet lately. It's not because thing's aren't happening. It's because too much has been happening. I've been dealing with a good old fashioned quarter life crisis. It's been rough you guys. Really rough. I didn't feel like myself. At all. I mentioned it a time or 2 but didn't go into detail because, if we're being honest, I was kind of ashamed. I felt like I didn't have control and things weren't going the way I wanted and I felt like I was failing at life. What made it even harder was my inability to let myself actually feel what I was feeling. Every time I thought about something like being stuck in my house or my car leaking something or my need for food, I reminded myself that it could be worse. I gave myself examples of situations that would be way worse and told myself despite the bad things, I have a really great life. I thought that was the way to keep me grateful and keep me positive. I didn't really realize, until right now, writing this, that I was keeping myself stuck by never allowing myself to see the negatives objectively and figure out how to make them into a positive. 
At the same time that I'm trying to figure out what to do with my life and how to feel like I'm doing something, anything, I was still doing the things I normally would. Still had to go to work 40 hours a week. And while there I had to deal with getting us prepared for an audit. Can I just say, trying to get 12 people all on the same page can be difficult sometimes? I still spent time with my friends after work. I was hosting craft nights so we could help lil K get her wedding stuff taken care of. I spent time deep cleaning and organizing my house to get it ready for L's bday party. Why I thought a bunch of drunk people would really care about the cleanliness of my house, I don't know. On top of all that, the big stress was family related.
I always say I have a small family because I feel like I do...but really, that's not true. I have quite a large family, but we're not actually close. When I think of "family" I think of my mom and her dad, my grampy. Of course I've got my aunt and uncle and slew of cousins who live on the coast. But we only see each other a few times a year (I'm hoping to change that soon!) and we're not technically related. We just grew up as a family. There's my dad and step family who live 4 hours north of here. Though I love my dad, we've never had a very close relationship. I grew up with mom, and my brother grew up with dad. Dad remarried and my step mom already had 3 sons. Together they had my half sister A. That's the family my brother knows. I haven't even met all of them. I've only seen my sister a few times and she's a teenager. The only point I'm trying to make is that they weren't a strong fixture in my life, and while I do technically have a normal size family, my close family is actually small.
So when grampys health started to decline, it hit close. He's been in and out of the hospital for years but all of a sudden they were talking about heart surgery and 50% success rates and things got blurry for all of us. My mom and I used to see him every weekend and then he stopped wanting our help so much and we stopped seeing him as often. He had his caretaker, B, to help him out. And then the crazy old man ran away.
There's more to it. It was crazy. I cried a lot. We all hurt a lot. But then he came back. To have heart surgery. And we were all scared again. While he was in the hospital and recovering at the home he's now at, mom and I traded off watching his dog, Burrito. One day, Burrito died. I hate to say it, but I'm really glad I wasn't the one on dog duty that day. I don't know if I could have handled it. So now we had to tell this poor old frail man that his best friend in the whole world was dead and he didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.
The most heart wrenching moment of my life was when mom told him the news. I don't think it helped much that she told him directly after letting him know that we were still hurt by the way things had gone down when he ran away. I don't think she knew at the time, or maybe even until now, but I had gone to see grampy on my own without her before that. He apologized for everything. He got emotional. I know everyone has a soft spot for men crying and older men crying makes it worse. But damn, when it's your own grampy...Phew. Hard to handle. He held my hand and said what he needed to say and I wanted to just let everything go, in spite of still feeling hurt by his actions. He knew he hurt us and did things the wrong way but now, for all anyone knew, he could very well be on his death bed and he was very genuinely sorry. So now he feels bad and scared and worried and has regrets and then he gets to find out that his best buddy, lil ol Burrito, is gone. Just thinking about it makes me teary. I feel so sad for him.
So I've got a full time job with a serious audit to get prepared for, plans that I won't allow myself to back out of, not that I wanted to. At this point I needed all the fun I could get. A quarter life crisis. I've got serious family stuff going on, and that's just the big stuff. Don't forget about the broken dryer, the unsafe home, broken lawn mower, lack of money, lack of food because of lack of money, feeling for my friends who are also going through terribly tough times in their lives, trying to help them, feeling hopeless when I can't, the lines of homeless people I see every single day at work (I work right by the local mission), no health insurance, dirty politicians, world hunger....It was too much. I could no longer function properly.
Apparently the people I work with started to notice my shift in attitude. I mean really...I'm sure everyone did. I was really fooling myself thinking that no one cared so why should I? I stopped getting dressed up. I stopped smiling as much because I wasn't in a good mood as often. I stopped blogging.
Somehow, I didn't stop having fun. I mean, I stopped having fun as often, but through all of that I went to the Britney Spears and Nicki Minaj concert with lil K (good wedding gift eh?), we threw a bad ass 80's party for L's birthday, we had craft nights which were way more fun than they sound, and we went to K and G's circus themed wedding. I mean...those things were FUN! I couldn't muster up the energy to write about them though because I just wasn't happy enough to care.
Why the change now? Well, as it turns out, I really do have the best boss ever. After hearing that I wasn't my usual self, and noticing herself that I was down and clearly not completely well, she offered to have me see the counselor/therapist type woman her family uses. I had actually been wanting to see someone for a while but with no health insurance I knew I couldn't afford to so when she offered I accepted without hesitation. Just making the appointment took a weight off my shoulders. It helped that grampy was now stable and he and mom seemed to be doing at least a little better.
I've only seen her a few times but I already feel a million times better. A couple of months ago, I really didn't see the point in life. I didn't know what I was doing and I was giving up. I mean, really. Yes, I still showered and put make up on every day. Yes, I still went to work early every day. I even kept shaving my legs regularly. I didn't think I was really doing that bad. But now that I'm on the other side...back on the bright side of life, I can see I wasn't living back then. I was being way too hard on myself and not giving myself the things I needed.
I still don't know where I'm going with my life (fingers crossed I can get into styling somehow), but I know I can't stay in the house I currently live at. I don't ever feel safe there. I have to leave. So I put in my notice yesterday. I'm moving because I deserve to live at a place that I feel safe in. Because there is no reason for me to continue to be stuck at a place that doesn't make me happy when I really don't need to be. Thanks to an outsiders view, I saw the possibilities. As my part time roomie A would say, what I saw as a problem, this outsider saw as a solution. So now, I'm moving. I haven't found a place yet, but I'm looking. I know I'll find what I'm looking for. I'm taking a leap of faith by putting in my notice before having a place locked down, but this leap has made me more excited about life then I have been in a long time. I really can't wait to see how it all turns out. And then I'll be able to work on what's next. Not that I need to think about that right now.
The reason I decided to share all of this is because I think other people need to know that these feelings happen to everyone. To some people it seemed like everything was fine with me. I just want you to know that we all go through this. Even people who seem to be doing great with life. We all have moments in our lives where things don't seem awesome. Where it seems like there is no point in life and no reason to go on. For some of us, those moments last longer. But you can get out of it. Sometimes all it takes is an objective view from an outsider to help you see the way out.
Don't be scared to ask for help. It doesn't mean you're weaker than someone who doesn't ask for help. It means that you are doing what you need to do and sometimes that means letting someone else help. Because as my new BFF the therapist pointed out to me, letting someone help you is actually helping them. You know how when you help someone out and they thank you and you feel good? When you don't let someone help you, you're actually depriving them of feeling that good feeling we get when we help someone. So let someone help, and make them feel good at the same time. There are billions of people on this planet. There is no reason for us to feel alone or to tackle life and it's humongous obstacles on our own.
I may not have all the answers, but I can always listen. And who knows, maybe I can help, or know someone who can. Why not find out?


Fun stories coming up soon! I thought it would be a good idea to share the reasons I've been a little absent, but I know fun stories are...well....more fun to read, so don't worry. I've got some good stuff to share.

Video update: Big news

Somehow I managed to get a video. I still haven't figured out how to work my video camera and make it communicate with my computer and get my computer to install drivers for some sound thing or...something. Basically, the ongoing fight between technology and I is still raging. And technology is winning. Damn it...
So I made this little update video. Nothing too special. Just making myself do the things I keep telling myself to do and never get around to doing. Got some big news in it.
I took the video and I was all proud of myself for accomplishing a goal I wanted to achieve. Then I tried to figure out how to get the video from my camera to my computer. That's when I found out I didn't have a cord to make that happen. Since I had to stop by the bank anyway, I went ahead and ran to Best Buy and they hooked me up with an SD card reader that plugs into my computer for like $12.
I came back home all amped up to complete my mission. And that's when I found out my computer needs some driver update to play videos or something and I followed all the troubleshooting instructions and got precisely, nowhere. So, then I decided I didn't need to try to edit anything or even actually view the video, before posting it, on anything other than the small camcorder screen. So I just blindly uploaded to my youtube account and my computer has no problem playing youtube videos...but I don't have speakers...or headphones since I left those at the office today. I'm really hoping it's not horrible.
Fair warning: I swear a couple of times in the video. Involuntary sailor mouth disorder. Sorry!
Lemme know what you think. Hope you guys like it!

My worst fear

I may have mentioned it before on the blog, but my mom bought me the greatest invention of all time and I use it often. The Bugzooka! It's absolutely amazing, and a real life saver for a single arachnophobic girl living on her own. With this, all you do is push a button and it sucks the enemy into a chamber on the end, where they die. Or...live off the remains of other bugs. Whatev.
No longer do I feel trapped when there is a spider on the wall, or scurrying across the floor! No longer must I search for something to kill while still keeping me at a safe distance! See, this arachnophobia of mine can be quite debilitating. It's not like I despise spiders and just want to kill them all. I mean, I do, but this phobia is more than that. I want them dead, for sure. But killing them...well that puts me dangerously close to, like...touching them. BLECH! I can't clean dead spiders up (there may or may not be a pair of shoes hiding under my bed for the last year only because they were used to kill a spider and knowing that there are spider guts on them makes them unwearable to my mind), I can't look at pictures of spiders (I once hurled a national geographic across the lobby of the high school health center because I turned the page to see a picture of a man with his face literally covered by tarantulas), I can't watch movies with spiders (yes, I've seen arachnophobia and no I don't want to see it again as I still envision the shower/spider scene every single day of my life when in the shower), I just can't handle them. I even once ran from literally nothing in a haunted house because in my mind I saw a person in a spider costume. I cried...even though it was nothing. Nothing. Yes, this phobia is real.
I remember, years ago as a child, when I tried to kill a daddy long legs on my own. I had a baseball bat in my hands with the big end hovering a few inches from the wall where the spider was. I had every intention of smushing the spider but I couldn't. The closer the bat got to the wall, the more terrified I became. Because inside my tiny child brain, I had a vision. A vision that the spider was just waiting for me to strike and when I did it would leap onto the end of the bat and race up the wooden handle to my face where of course I would fall down screaming like a banshee, kicking and flailing on my way to the ground. I couldn't do it. I dropped the bat and ran screaming and trembling with fear.
I've always had someone there to take over when the fear was too much for me (that's every single time in case you're wondering). My mom, roommates, friends, boyfriends that I lived with. When there's a spider on the wall, or ceiling, or anywhere really, I scream for whoever is around and run for cover. Mom found the Bugzooka and knew it was something I needed in my life.
See, I still have those crazy thoughts in my head like I did as a child. I can still see, in my head, the spider falling from the wall after a failed shoe kill attempt, only to land on me, or my bed, or...God forbid....my shoes! Spiders are only welcome smeared on the bottom of a shoe, and even then, I don't want to wear it if it has spider cooties. And I can't be the one to clean the remains off (even from walls) because that involves touching spider bits. Oh God...what if I could feel it through the paper towel? Or if I got a leg on me... Blech blech blech!
So, having something that sucks a spider into a chamber where it is trapped and will die, without leaving a mess is an absolute blessing. Especially now that no one is around to kill offenders when they appear. It does still cause some problems though. The chamber requires emptying...which means you have to put your hands...on the chamber! Only a wall of plastic separates you from the captured spiders, and that's just not enough for me. Did I mention the thing is see through? Mine does not get emptied. Which is why some spiders can live forEVER in there. You also have to get the chamber end pretty close to the spider in order for the suction to actually have an effect. The bigger the spider, the closer you have to get. When the spider is in a web, unless you're quick (which I am not), it will feel you hit a strand of web and run away before you get to it.
Which is what happened a couple weeks ago. I was washing dishes, minding my own two legged business, when I glanced outside. Ahh, how nice it is when we get sunshine in the Northwest. As my eyes came back to the dishes, something caught my eye just under the cupboards above the sink. Between the cupboards and the fuse box, on the wall not 2 feet from me, was a decent size gangly looking spider. Not one of those big thick ones that you know will make a crunch sound when you kill it. He was big like a quarter, but he had skinny long legs. Ugh...thinking of the details makes my skin crawl.
I finished the dish I was washing and turned off the water. I did not run to the Bugzooka, for I did not want to alert the spider of it's impending capture. For he would surly run and hide somewhere. And not knowing where a live spider is in my house is just not ok. So I calmly walked to the Bugzooka. I calmly made sure it was cocked and ready to go. I slowly walked back to the sink. I lifted my savior and positioned my finger on the vacuum button. I went for it. But just as I pushed the button I hit a strand of web. The eight legged bastard got a warning and ran. And hid behind the cupboards. Damn...
I have many strategies for what to do after a spider gets away alive and unharmed. This day, I chose to walk away and stay out of the kitchen hoping the spider would return to its web where I could clearly see it from the living room. He was that big. Sure enough, within a couple hours, he was back. Perched in his web as if nothing had happened.
I quietly got the bugzooka and positioned myself by the sink. This time I was determined to get the bastard. But again, I hit a strand of web and off he went into darkness. Damn damn damn!
I went on with my day.
I came back and there he was...perched in his web. Taunting me with his freedom. "You're going DOWN!" I screamed at him. I got the Bugzooka and walked to the sink. With my finger on the button I went in for the final time. No cautiousness. I couldn't risk him getting away again.
I saw it happen. I saw him leap from his web and land on the end of the death chamber. He seemed startled that he made it, hesitating only a moment before running up the barrel at me. This was no figment of my imagination. It really happened this time. After 25 years of only imagining it, my worst fear came to life. That spider was out to get me. So, I did what any rational person would.
I screamed bloody murder and threw the Bugzooka away from me. I ran screaming from the kitchen and didn't stop until I hit the front door with myself, screaming the whole way.
Then I realized I had just given the spider the chance to get away, again. So I crept back to the kitchen. I saw the spider trying to make his escape across the floor. He had only made it a few inches from the Bugzooka so I ran in and grabbed it, pumped it, and sucked him up before he could get into the shadows by the stove.
And that, my friends, is the story of how mentally preparing for something your entire life does not in fact make it any easier to handle in reality.

Things I'm tired of

People not using their blinkers, or using them incorrectly. Fun fact: Blinkers are supposed to be put on BEFORE you turn or get over. They're there to let OTHER drivers know your INTENTIONS.

Portland "Summer". Um, it's raining. I know, I know. It's the "Great Northwest" or whatever...but seriously. It's the middle of July and I kinda want to be like...warm. Of course, I'll regret this comment when summer hits and my house turns into a sauna. Which brings me to my next point...

My house.

My car. And it's missing window. And how that missing window seems to be an invitation to spiders. I killed 3 spiders INSIDE my car in a week...all WHILE I WAS DRIVING. Do you have any idea how hard that is for someone with arachnophobia? It's a miracle I haven't killed myself or anyone else during these terrifying times.

My hair. It's so boring. So up it goes. And up it will stay. Do you have any idea how annoying it is when you're pinned down because you've trapped yourself with your own hair? And the shedding! Good god...the shedding.

Construction. Seriously now...The other day I was forced through 2 detours in the first 10 minutes of driving. Now, I understand that construction must be done. I understand that those workers are just doing their jobs. But my entire parking lot for work is engulfed in construction. Half the road to my parking lot is actually closed. You know, the half I take to get to the damn place. I have to do a loopty loop to get there every time. And those workers...who are just doing their jobs...keep leaving their damn fence open. Like, in the lane of traffic. Where I have to drive to park. I can only turn one direction out of the parking lot now. Every day they take over more and more of my lot. And then when I'm done dealing with that I hit 48 more construction sites on my way to where ever it is I'm heading that day. I just keep telling myself it will end some time. I don't believe myself.

Being poor.

Most of all, I'm tired of not being my happy self. I know I haven't blogged in a while, and I'm not sure anyone actually cares. I'm not going to explain myself, because I don't have to. I'm used to being positive and happy and fun loving and lately I haven't been. I'm frustrated because I'm not sure how to get that happy back.

All of that said, I can't forget how lucky I am. I know I'm lucky to have a job. A job that sustains me enough to live on my own. Just barely. I'm lucky to have a home to live in. I'm lucky I have a car and I don't have to rely on public transportation, which I hate. I'm lucky to be alive. I am more than lucky to have such a big number of awesome friends that constantly look out for me and help me have the best times of my life.I really do love you guys. More than I could ever properly express. Without you guys...I really don't know where I would be right now. Hungry, that's for damn sure.

I am thankful for all that I have.

But sometimes...all of the negatives are just so heavy. They weigh everything else down. They weigh me down.

where have you been?!

Ok, so...it's been a while. How are you guys? How's life treating you? Things are good?
I don't have a really good reason for being so absent from the blog. Mostly laziness. My dream was to present you all with a video blog. I thought it would be quicker for me to make and easier for you to watch than the traditional takes-me-eighteen-thousand-hours-to-write-a-post route. As we can all clearly see, that didn't happen. I had to find my video camera in storage (a.k.a. hiding in an old purse) and then figure out how to upload and edit a video. I found the camera, but it wasn't charged. So I charged it and now I can't get it to turn on. Awesome. I thought about using my phone but I know that a) the quality won't be great and b) I know I can't do what I want in one take. I still want to make it happen, and I haven't completely given up but I have to post something. If not for you, at least for my naggy mom (love you!) and for my own peace of mind.
Lets take a trip back in time, all the way back to...my birthday! It was only 2 weeks ago but it feels like months have passed.
Click through to read about my party!

keepin it real

What's up unexplained absence from blogging. Am I right?
Ok, so it's been a little while since I wrote anything. That doesn't mean I haven't been out doing stuff and seeing things and living life. It means I've been doing so much of that I've hardly had a second to catch my breath, let alone write a post about the rude group of elderly folks who think they can do as they please in a restaurant.
Rather then sitting at home stressing about how I will never be able to catch up on all the stories I need to write, or feeling an overwhelming urge to give up all together, I thought I would just post a quick update, with some highlights from the past couple of weeks.
Click through to see what I've been up to!

Foreign Accent Syndrom

So, last year my mom made me call my aunt. My mom said it would be really funny but she wouldn't tell me why. I called my aunt, but some french woman answered her phone. I was like, hey french lady, put my aunt on the phone wouldja?
It wasn't a french woman. It was my aunt. I had a really hard time not laughing hysterically. It was the craziest thing to hear. It was her voice. The pitch was still the same...But the way the words came out of her mouth just blew my mind. She had gone in for some dental work, and woke up as a foreigner, who isn't at all foreign. It's gotten a little better over time, but apparently, it might not ever be gone for good. Check out the video!

The many faces of internet dating

I promised you a separate post about the kind of guys I've encountered online, and this is that post. I'm not going to go terribly in depth about anything. I'm just going to share with you some of the messages I've gotten and some of the idiocy I've dealt with thanks to the online dating profile K set up for me.
Click through to get some good eye rolls!

Happy Easter!

Special thanks to A for my Easter toy!

Random things from this week

I didn't even realize it, but I recently hit a blogging milestone. I've now made over 100 posts! Not too shabby. Thank you, sincerely, to all of you who read, regularly or not. I wouldn't keep going if it weren't for you and it means a lot to me that you're out there reading what I write and enjoying it.

In other news, it looks like I'll be trying Bikram Yoga. There was a groupon deal too good to pass up and even though I've told myself (and others) that I would never want to try this, I'm actually pretty excited about it. I'm only going to take one or 2 classes a week and from what I've read, that's enough to make a pretty big difference in a lot of different areas health wise. I'm sure I'll be cursing myself through the first couple of classes, but I'll forgive myself. Eventually.

My most recent message received on the dating website: Hi how u do n

A invited me over to decorate Easter eggs with her 5 year old and her brothers 8 year old. I'm the only one that broke an egg. 
It started off promising:

Hot pink?! Kick ass! Glitter?? Yes please! Then I tried to get all fancy...

And I dropped the egg on it's head. You can see the skull fractures. Poor lil guy.

We had an Easter egg hunt at my office this week. We've been waiting for this to happen for a while now. We had one a few years back but haven't been able to have another one since. There was a lot of trash talking leading up to it. People that weren't here for the first hunt were a tad bit nervous. When the door was opened and we were allowed in to start hunting, it was complete madness. Screaming, shoving, pushing. The couch cushions were all over the floor. People were crawling under desks (....me), searching in cupboards, knocking things over. It was intense.
Why was it so intense? Because the prizes were GOOD! There were over 200 eggs all together. Inside some of them were pieces of paper with letters or things like "Big Winner #1" written on them. There were Starbucks gift cards, Moonstruck Chocolates (yes, I totally did win one of those!), gift certificates to restaurants, orchids, and one of the big winners got a $150 gift card to Nike!
I got the Big Winner #1 egg and heard things like "Of course she's the big winner...Again!". I worked hard for that last win! This win was way more fun. It was a gift card to Portland City Grill, since I know you're curious.

My mom came to have lunch with me at the office one day this week. She brought us some GIANT sandwiches that were quite literally over flowing with fries. Yes, fries in the sandwich. Pretty good stuff. But they were hugearific. Neither of us could finish even a half of one.

Pay it Forward day is next Thursday! I love Pay it Forward day so I can't wait to hear about all the things that go on and I am definitely excited to do some paying it forward of my own. We'll see what that ends up meaning...Probably I'll pay for someone behind me in line somewhere and maybe I'll bake some cookies to give out. We shall see...
What are you gonna do?

Lets mow the lawn!

Over the weekend, L's dad came over to look at my broken dryer and hopefully fix it. He tried to test the heating element but his tester had a dead battery so he took the part with him and came back the next day. And this time he brought one of their family's mowers with him. How could he not notice the tall, unruly grass when he was over? The plan was for me and L to tag team the lawn with their mower and mine (er...the one I'm borrowing from neighbor C) at the same time to get it done quick, while he worked on the dryer.
We had to start with walking around the yard and picking up all the trash that has accumulated in my grass from the neighbors giant, always open and always full, dumpster. Though, I'm still not convinced that the empty condom box next to the Pizza Hut box just blew in with the winds...I keep telling myself it was just garbage. No stranger really used my back yard for some kind of terrible date.
After filling up one plastic grocery bag with garbage from the back yard we could get to the mowing. L's dad started by mowing the perimeter of the yard for us, because that's what dads do I guess. I dragged my (not mine) mower out of the garage, checked to make sure it had gas, and then worked on getting it started. Of course, I remember the last time I mowed the lawn and I definitely remember falling down trying to start the mower. L finally got the thing started and I worked on the tall patch of grass nearest to my house. L took over for her dad on their mower and he went inside to work on the dryer.
I got a small section done while L continued the path her dad had started. He came out to check on us and decided that maybe I should follow behind L as she mowed, since the mower I was using doesn't have the ability to adjust and can't handle tall grass really well. I had to constantly keep the mower up on its back wheels so the blade wouldn't stop in all the tall grass and kill the motor. What an arm workout. If I followed behind L, she could get the tall grass with her big mower and mine would have an easier time of it. L's dad went back inside as I started to follow her.
After a couple of times around the yard, the mower died and I of course had trouble starting it. L helped again. I was really pulling that stupid string as hard as I could but I guess I just don't have the strength to do it on my own. Which made me feel like an idiot.
With the mower started, thanks to L, I continued along the path. I still had to go much slower then L because even though I was now cutting shorter grass, my lawn is terribly uneven. With all the lumps and bumps I still had to keep the mower levitated to make sure it wasn't going to break or die. But it did die again. And this time when L helped I couldn't handle myself. She was laughing, because every time I mow the lawn I have this problem. Usually I'm able to laugh through it too, but at this moment, I was just tired of it. I felt like I was incapable and started to cry. What if I was doing this chore alone? I would never be able to accomplish anything if I can't even get the mower to turn on. L got the mower started and tried to find out what was wrong with me but I just took off with my now running mower to follow her path. I still had to go slow, and she was about to lap me when her dad came out to tell me my dryer was not going to be fixed because the problem was not the heating element and could be any number of things that I'll need a professional to look at. Or just get a new dryer because that would probably be cheaper then paying someone for labor and parts. Then he suggested I move to the front yard, where the grass was shorter and more manageable for my non adjusting mower.
With L still trucking along like a champ, because she likes mowing, I moved the mower to the front and started picking up all the trash in the front yard. I filled another bag of garbage, none of it mine (and yes, I really do know that it was all not mine because my garbage can stays closed, and everything I picked up was stuff that I don't use or have never heard of) and L's dad started mowing the perimeter. So the grass cuttings are going out and all that mumbo jumbo. I leaned against my car as he started and when he came back around I got ready to take over. Apparently, he was going to go around one more time. Then again. And again. By the time he finally gave over control of the mower (keeping it running for me, thank god) almost half my front yard was already done.
As I pushed the mower around my yard, I saw L's dad check out the neighbors dumpster, looking for a possible way to prevent the garbage pile up in my yard. He looked at the janky fence that barely stays up in the wind. It was a comforting feeling knowing that he was trying to look out for me, but in my current state of mind it made me sad. I felt like I was incapable because he kept trying to make things easy on me.
I thought how nice it was of him, not just come and look at my dryer, but to want to help with my lawn. How nice it is of L to willingly help mow the grass I have neglected. I thought, this is what it's like to have a dad come and check up on you. This is what dads do for their daughters, and here this man was, helping me out like this, and he barely knows me. I mean, I've spent some time with him when I go to their house to share a family dinner with them. They invited me over for Christmas. His daughters are 2 of my closest friends so I can understand that while he and I don't really know each other well, he knows I'm at least good enough for his daughters to trust.
I've never really had a father figure in my life. I've considered my grampy a father figure, even though I never asked him for advice and he wasn't constantly around until he finally settled down in Portland not too many years ago. He moved around a lot in my younger years and I would see him at least a couple of times a year, and when he finally got an apartment here in town I saw him weekly. He helped me out when I needed it. Helping me get my first car...and my second...and the current car I have. Lending me his truck when I needed to haul something big or for one of my many moves in the last few years. Now he's planning on moving away and thinking about that in conjunction with L's dad being all fatherly...
And then L came out from the back yard. She had mowed almost the entire thing. Her dad was now packing the garbage that the garbage men woudln't take into my garbage can so it could finally be hauled off. He even dismantled the broken hut that had been laying in the yard since last summer and put it in the can too. My yard looked brand new. All freshly mowed and cleaned up.
How lucky am I to have these people in my life? I can't tell you how thankful I am to have people like this supporting me and helping me all the time. Sometimes it's hard to find the good, even when I know I'm such a blessed person. It's hard sometimes,to see the silver lining in life. Then L and her dad come over and mow my lawn, and don't judge me for having a momentary breakdown just because they're good people, and my faith in humanity is restored.
L decided the next time we mow my lawn we'll do it crop circle style.

Biggest Loser Finale

The Biggest Loser Competition at work is finally over! Well, really, it's been over for a while but the winner was announced at the company meeting, which happened after the actual end date for the competition. And I take forever to write my posts...
As a company we lost about 80 pounds which translates into $400 for the food bank! How awesome is that?! How awesome is it that our boss actually suggested we donate $5 per pound lost to the food bank?
My final numbers go something like this: 25 pounds lost*. 2 inches lost from my thighs, an inch from my arms, and over 5 inches from my waist! Holy crap! I dropped one whole size plus a little extra. I now have almost no clothes that I can actually wear. I really have no pants to wear at all. I have a couple of pairs of jeans that I can wear, but they're definitely too big. They just don't fall off my hips when I walk like my old pairs do now.
Of course, being the crazy thrift shopper I am, I've bought some things in the past that I shouldn't have...because they were too small. However, now that I've lost weight that bad habit of mine is really coming in handy! That pair of pants J gave me before she moved to Florida are now too big on me. When I got them, they didn't even button. That dress I bought but only wore as a shirt because the bottom was too tight, now totally fits! In fact, when I lose a few more pounds I'll have to let that dress go.
I've gone through my closet twice since the start of this back in January, to weed out all the clothes that are just too big to ever look good on me again and I now have a sizable pile to sell and a good chunk to send to Goodwill.
Even after the competition ended, I've continued to work out as often as I can muster. I still eat as healthily as I can, but I do let myself have a little more freedom with food now that I'm just living my life and not trying to win a competition. I plan on continuing my success until I reach my ultimate goal, which is not a magical number on the scale but rather the feeling I feel when I look at myself in the mirror. Really, I'd love to confidently wear a bikini this summer.
You can bet I was excited to find out what my prize was for all the hard work I put into this. 3 months of chocolate deprivation had better be worth it! I think my friends were more excited to find out the prize than I was for a while. I would get the question at least once a day, what was I going to get?
At the company meeting I finally got to find out. I was given a $200 shopping spree at Washington Square mall! What a freakin perfect prize. I'm in more need of clothes now then I ever have been in my whole life. I have no pants for cryin out loud! I am so excited to go shopping and have been formulating a list of basics that I need to get. However, I plan on waiting until closer to my birthday to actually go shopping. I'm really hoping I can drop one more size before I buy a whole bunch of new clothes. I would hate to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe that I love only to have to buy another new one in a couple of months. I want to be able to keep some of the things I end up with. So, for now, I'm continuing working out as often as I can and eating healthy so that I can keep reach my goal. Even if I don't lose another size by my birthday...I'm still going shopping.
Thank you boss lady, for the totally perfect prize! You are truly a talented gift giver.

*I want to add that since I started losing weight last year, I've now lost a total of 55 pounds. I feel like that's an accomplishment worth noting.