The South Dakota Black Hills quickly became a contender for my new favourite part of the country. They have it all – open grassy plains (Wind Caves National Park is just South), mountains, plenty of trees in both pine and deciduous varieties, unique geological formations, blue skies, lakes, desert, forest – they are like a sunny Washington with more leafy trees and a more ancient spiritual feeling.

I made a detour to Mt Rushmore, because it was right there and felt like one of those things you sort of just had to do on a Great American Road Trip. It was underwhelming. I quickly realized that the only reason it appears as awe-inspiring as it does in photos is because it is physically impossible to take a photograph of it that makes it appear true to proportion. Those trees at the base? They have to be some kind of dwarf tree.

The most impressive thing about the structure, to me, was the fact that whoever designed it either intentionally or accidentally made it so any angle of photograph taken would make it appear more impressive than it really is. There is something to be said for that.

At any rate, I do not regret going. I did, however, get a little lost trying to get from the monument to the campground I had picked out in Custer State Park off of Needles Highway. The needles had crossed my radar before I left on the trip, and were one of the things I was making a point of seeing.

Eventually I made it out to them, drove on the highway, and even found time for a little hiking before sunset.

I ran into some of the coolest people along the highway. A husband and wife from Germany were motorcycle touring through the area, and we enjoyed a short conversation (in broken English) about motorcycles. A group of middle-aged working women had all decided that they were overdue for their own Great American Road Trip, so they powered through the four days they were able to get off their busy careers by flying into Utah, renting an SUV, and cramming in as many National Parks as they could. They seemed rushed, but they also seemed to appreciate whatever fleeting moments they could get.

One thing we all came together on was how beautiful the sunset was. The Germans parked their motorbikes, the SUV load of women actually stood still for a few moments, and we all sat at the edge of the highway, watching the sun melt into a blaze of warmth and colour behind the ancient spiny stones.

I camped that night, feeling completely fulfilled from my drive over and experience along the Needles Highway. It was a good thing, because I had a very early morning ahead of me.

For more Black Hills and Needles pictures, check out the set on Flickr.

If you have valuables, or you care about the general condition of your possessions, picking the cheapest moving company is the last thing you want to do. It is extremely easy to advertise on the internet, whether you are a legitimate business or not and there is a surprising number of unlicensed movers out there with super cheap rates. Stay away from these guys! Their rates are so low because they are not paying for a license, insurance, or workers compensation.

What does this mean to you? It means if your belongings are damaged, or even stolen, you may have no recourse. The illegal movers can dodge any attempt you make at getting compensation, even if you get the law involved. Check out Moving in Denver Colorado. Another possibility is that a mover gets injured on your property. If this happens and you have hired a questionable moving company, you could be held liable for the injury, and any associated medical costs!

So, when comparing moving companies, make sure they have a descent website. This is the twenty first century! If you are looking at an ad, in print, or on the internet, and there is no link to a website, forget it. If a moving company is not invested in their own company, then you can be sure they are not invested in you as a customer either.

Check the website for a better business seal or similar verification of authenticity. Click on the seal and make sure it actually goes somewhere, it should like to a real site that confirms that the moving company is real. Many of these sites will also give you some background on the company, their performance, and any complaints they have received in the past.

Search the internet for reviews. Check out popular review sites, like Google reviews or yelp. Take the reviews with a grain of salt. It is pretty easy for companies to manipulate reviews in their favor.

Finally, give the company a call. Get a feel for the business by talking to their representatives. Make sure to ask plenty of questions, find out their rates, and if there are any fees outside of a flat or hourly rate. Don’t be afraid to ask for a discount, or if they have any promotions. Tell them about your move and get a general price quote for your move. Repeat this process with one or two more movers to make sure prices are comparable. Now, think back about your experience, if you got a good impression from a website, reviews, and a sales representative then you have found your moving company! Don’t obsess about a few bucks here or there, trust your gut, and pick the movers that gave you the best feeling!

“Isn’t it hard to move around so much?” is a typical question everyone asks once I say that I’m a military child. I usually just shrug and mutter, “You get used to it after a while.” The truth is, it is extremely difficult. It’s not just the inevitable goodbyes that are hard, which they are of course, but the adjusting to a new place every two years or so. Being the new kid gets old, and I thought it would get easier as I grew older, but it was the complete opposite. When you’re little, moving isn’t so bad. You don’t have lifelong friends who you have inside jokes with, who know all your deepest secrets (but I suppose you don’t have too many secrets anyway at four years old), and who have been there for you during tough times. When you’re little, moving is fun. The big, brown boxes are ideal for games of hide-and-seek, the empty rooms once filled with furniture are great for doing cartwheels or playing soccer, and you get to sleep in hotels and swim in the hotel pools. When you get older, the big, brown boxes are filled with your things that have memories attached to them, the empty rooms are a reflection of the empty feeling inside, and sleeping in hotels is a reminder that you only have a few days left before your life changes forever…again.

Now, don’t get me wrong, some of the best experiences I’ve ever had are because of the military lifestyle. I’ve met people from all over the world that are absolutely amazing, and I would have never met them had I not moved to a certain place. I’ve been to places that I have to point out on a globe because nobody’s ever heard of it before. I go to places some of my friends have only dreamed of going. Of course, moving around so much and not knowing people in all the new places is difficult, so it brings my family closer together. If it weren’t for my younger siblings Tyler and Kennedy, I would have gone crazy a long time ago. My parents have always been supportive and understanding as well. That’s how it’s been my entire childhood. That’s what happens when you’re a military brat.

Instead, I am delighted to say that there is an end in sight to our house woes. For in just a few weeks’ time, we’ll be moving here!

It’s just a couple of miles away from where we are currently and it’s a lovely big old farmhouse with six, count ‘em, bedrooms. As this is a long-term let, we’re thinking to the future and considering opening a B&B. There are lots of opportunities with this house that we’re excited about – the potential is awesome. Craft classes – maybe even residential retreats? Opening a farm shop? Cookery classes (with my ex-chef mum)? EEEEEEEK!

The other really exciting thing is that the house backs on to 25 acres of woodland, planted by the owner. The dog is going to LOVE it.

This is all very timely, as the house we are currently renting is finally being repossessed, with papers being served this past week. We’re getting out at the right time, it seems.

Wish us luck!

One of my favorite pastimes is reading.  I’m a really avid reader, particularly in the realm of non-fiction (philosophy, psychology, and the like).  What I especially love reading about is astrology, the study of the stars and how they relate to an individual’s personality.  It’s truly a fascinating field to delve into.

Now, I know that there are a bunch of people who downplay astrology and think that it’s all hogwash.  I can tell you right now that the people who believe that are the ones who either think it’s superstitious, know absolutely nothing about the science behind it, and/or only read the horoscopes in the local paper.  Astrology involves so much more than that, and speaking from personal experience, I am an avid believer in it.

I’m not a fan of using it to predict events, however.  I feel that prediction is a waste of time, since we’re all subject to those random curve balls that life likes to throw at us.  I don’t subscribe to the idea that someone can magically and specifically say that such and such event will happen (unless it’s very broad and general to allow room for interpretation).  In my calculated opinion, the only two uses for astrology are to know thyself (i.e. discover specific facets about your personality and way of life) and to pinpoint where exactly on this planet you will make best use of your talents or whatever it is you’re looking for.

The latter usage is the subject of this blog post here, and it falls under the broad category of astrocartography.  This branch of astrology is used to determine exactly which places are best suited for certain aspects of your life.  Whether you’re looking for love, better health, or a new career, astrocartography can help you accomplish that.

Basically, everybody is born at a certain time and place.  Knowing those two things along with your date of birth, you can construct a chart (the birth chart, or natal chart) that shows all the major planets in whatever astrological sign they’re in as well as what houses they are placed in.  It looks like a huge circle with lots of symbols and lines in it.  The houses constitute your environment (i.e. your career, education, relationships, etc.).  The planets also make aspects to each other, and these aspects can either be harmonious (EASY/FLOWING) or discordant (TOUGH/STRESSFUL).  I don’t want to use the terms “good” or “bad” here because that’s too categorically limiting.  Everyone has a mix of both harmonious and discordant aspects.  It is these aspects (along with the planets, signs, and houses) that are all working together to make up your birth chart, the very essence of your existence on this planet.

So that’s just a brief overview of birth chart basics.  With me so far?  Good…

Now, wherever you were born, there are certain lines that are placed all over the world.  These lines are called power lines.  [The image above is an astrocartography map, showing you what I mean by this].  Each line consists of a planet’s particular influence, and all the places on that line and within 200 kilometers east or west of the line are where that planet’s influence is felt most strongly.  For example, if you have a power line called Pluto-MC (a big “P” is the sign for Pluto), then the nature of that planet will affect your career in those locations.  MC means Midheaven….the highest point of your birth chart that relates to career.  [You also have AS: the Ascendant, or how others see you; DS: the Descendant, your relationships; and IC: the imum coeli, or home].

In my case, I have the Pluto-MC line going through where I live in the Northeast.  It’s a very direct hit.  My exact town is literally ON this line!  Pluto is indicative of power struggles and control.  Joining up with the MC, this theme of power plays pertains to the career.  Is it no wonder that I had difficulty trying to find and maintain work here at home???!?!?  On top of that, right next to the Pluto-MC line is the Saturn-MC line in my particular map (not shown here).  Now Saturn is the “heavy-hitter” planet of the zodiac.  It symbolizes restriction and hard work.  So not only was I having power struggles at work, but I was being confined….literally squeezed to death with no room to grow personally and professionally.

It really amazes me how my mere physical presence in one location can have such an impact on my way of life.  I strongly believe that my environment is what’s causing my problems as far as the world of work is concerned.  I clearly have to move out of the Northeast, but where exactly should I move?

Here is where the locational astrologer comes in.  For the past 5 years since I started studying astrology, I never considered “hiring” someone to read my chart or anything like that.  Now, at this stage of my life, after having explored astrocartography and discovering exactly why I was having all these problems working here in the Northeast, I am seeking a professional’s expert analysis.

Just today, I spoke to a world-renowned locational astrologer (name to be revealed in a future post).  We had a nice 15-minute chat about his services, what he does for his clients, what I’m looking for, etc.  His honesty, knowledge, and willingness to be of service have caused me to hire him for a consultation, no further questions asked.  I was very glad to pay his $250 fee because it involves a lot.

[Yes, I shelled out 250 bucks.  I strongly believe that it's worth it, and it's probably the only astrological consultation I will ever do because I sense that it will be life changing.]

All in all, the consultation will take 2 sessions.  The first is on Monday, where he will informally interview me.  My main concern is WORK:  where exactly is the best location for me to find a long-term job that will sustain myself and allow myself to finally get out of this house and live independently?  That’s NUMERO UNO on my list.  Secondly, it would be nice to see if going for further education in that location (if needed) has a positive vibe, too.  I’m not concerned about love or health, since I’ve never been in a relationship and don’t care to be, and I’ve always been in excellent health (*knocks on wood*).

So the interview will take as much time as I need to fully explain my past job and educational history (as well as my current living situation).  There is no time limit for the interview.  After I describe everything to the astrologer, he then schedules another day and time for the official reading, which lasts from 30 to 45 minutes (recorded, so I will get a copy of it).  During this time, he will reveal the exact location(s) as to where I will find the best opportunities for finding suitable work, as well as give very explicit details as to why that place(s) is the best.

I’m REALLY looking forward to pouring my heart out during the interview, and then hearing what he’s gotta say.  This should be very enlightening, to say the least.  Nothing is holding me back from leaving either.  I can financially do it in the blink of an eye, but I just need some direction or area of focus to concentrate all my job-searching and networking skills.  If I have to go for further education, fine, but I’ll do it there, not here in the Northeast.

I know this was such a long blog post, so I’ll just shut up now and report back to you guys after the interview and reading! 

Long story short: I moved from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania out to Sacramento, California and now I’m moving BACK to Pittsburgh. 

The main reason (for me) that I’m moving back is that I feel that it’s in my best interests, economically. I gave California a shot, but it’s not for me. And I’m not gonna lie; it’s expensive to live out here. It’s no longer financially possible for me to live out here and that’s OK. It’s OK because while I was living here, I made amazing new friends; friends who I’ll know for a lifetime. And I’ll definitely come out to visit again in the future. 

But I honestly miss what I had back in Pittsburgh. I miss it to much. I can’t stand it any longer. I want to start my life again there, where I grew up. I want to rekindle my old friendships and reconnect with what I previously had over there. 

I feel that living out here in California, while it really was a struggle, made me a more culturally aware kind of a person. I feel like I got to see a huge glimpse of the west coast lifestyle by visiting places like San Francisco and Santa Cruz. I’ll always cherish those memories. 

I’m excited to see all my old friends and I can’t wait to tell them all the amazing stories I have to share. It’ll be busy for the next few weeks, so I won’t be able to get any posts rolled out after this one. But I do tweet a lot: @BrandonDusch 

Here’s to good times in California and new beginnings in familiar places!

It’s been a while–I KNOW. And I truly sorry, but this year has been a little bit crazy for me. I am not trying to just give you guys excuses, so I’ll just write about all that has happened in the past months.

Last time I posted (before the Jeff Goins post) was about Greece. I do intent to finish that post but I feel like this is more urgent.

Around July last year, I moved from my city in Brazil (Curitiba-PR) to come study Advertising at a school called Academy of Art University, in the city of San Francisco, in California. I live in a small town about 15-20 min from SF, in Pacifica.
I have previously written about how I was an exchange student here and all. I love California. I love this place, everything about it.
San Francisco is such an amazing city, it never ceases to amaze me. Every time I am there (which is every day, haha) I feel so lucky, so ”blessed.” And Pacifica is great, as well. Absolutely different, but it has its advantages. While San Francisco is upbeat, full of colors and craziness (if you’ve been there, you know what I am talking about) and there’s always something going on. And it’s awesome. But it is always great to come home in the end of the day, to a peaceful town like Pacifica (which, for the non-latin languages speakers, means ”Peaceful” anyways!).

I do, though, want to eventually move to the city to be closer to school and all, but for now, what I’ve got going on, is absolutely what I need.
Since I’ve moved here, so much has happened.

I had a slightly easier time with the change because since I had already lived here before, I knew a lot of people. The funny thing is, I ended up becoming good friends with people I just knew because of an ex boyfriend. These people turned out to be the greatest things that have happened to me since I got here.
Traveling is fun and all, but it is also hard. Being away from HOME, from family, friends…from your comfort zone….it’s rough. Having people to keep you busy is really good. I felt less homesick on the first months here, than I thought I would have.

Ok, I’ll go by parts.

I got here on July 28th. It was cold, even though it was technically summer. That’s the thing about Pacifica: it’s foggy and it’s crazy and it’s cold and it’s windy. And believe me, I haven’t gotten used to it yet. I am always the girl wearing pantyhose under my pants and wearing hella layers. I am always cold. I am quite aware that people sometimes might think that I am over reacting or being dramatic. But then they touch my hand and see me shaking and go ”damn, you really ARE that cold”. YEAH. I am not lying. Me and cold, we don’t get along. Zero tolerance.
And then of course, I get that comment ” Well, it’s understandable, you’re from Brazil.” Nu-uh. I am from the south of Brazil. From a city known for its ridiculous cold weather. But somehow this still feels colder.

ANYWAYS.

I got here, went straight to Sprint to buy a new iPhone, since my had been stolen a week before in this house party back home. Then I got some In-n-Out burgers with my ”host dad” Jack. In-n-out are the best thing since Betty White. No joke. I came home, looked around and got that really strange feeling ”This is home, for now on” and just sort of stood there. Staring at my suitcases… Then I went over to my friend Natalie’s house. She gave me a bag of mini reeses cups and it was all good.

The strangest part though, was that I felt like I had never left in first place. The situation was completely different, I was here on 100% different terms, was about to have a totally different life, but it felt…it felt right.

My classes would only start in September, so I had plenty of time to enjoy my break. Later that same day, I ended up going to my friend’s house for a little house party. It was nice to see everyone and it was good because I didn’t have time to feel homesick.

all one needs anyways.

A few days later, I went down the coast of California with my host parents. OK, I feel like I need to explain the whole host parent deal. I am living at the same house where I lived at when I was an exchange student. They were my host family and I still call them that. For now on, to make things easier to understand, I’ll call them Jack and Elena. Those are their names, after all.

Anyways. Me and Elena drove down to Yosemite National Park and Jack flew to Pasadena, where he had this Mars Society Convention and we would meet up with him 4 days later. The drive from San Francisco to Yosemite is about 3 hours. We took our time, stopped in a couple places to eat etc. It’s a beautiful drive.

We stayed at a camp ground but we didn’t camp, with like, tents etc. We were in these little house thingys (YES, please, Luah, be more vague.)

Here’s a photo because I suck at describing it.

this!

We were there because Elena (who is 53!) went hiking, she climbed Half Dome. It’s pretty awesome, if you ask me. I just walked around the camp ground, went to a little beach area, tanned, explored, read. It was really warm, exactly how I LOVE it. And it was very pleasant, calm, relaxing.

After 3-4 days, we drove down to the LA area, to Pasadena, to meet up with Jack. He is a big Mars lover and the Curiosity rover  was about to land in Mars and there was a big convention going on. I ended up being very interested about it, it was a big thing! And it was freaking summer, and WARM. Did I mention I LOVE warm weather?!?! Well. I do.

I also went to Los Angeles with a friend and walked around, got to go to the US Open of Surfing and even got an autograph from Kelly Slater. Yes, the 11 time world champion surfer, that guy.

We had some good days in South California.

I actually had a little thing to solve down there. You see, I came to the US 40 days before my school started. I could only get in the US with my STUDENT visa within 30 days before school. So I got in with my tourist visa and thought I’d be alright until this guy at the airport pointed out I’d have to get OUT of the US to come BACK IN! CRAZY!!!!

SO I DID. I was in LA, we were going to Catalina Island anyways, so Jack said it would work out perfectly. We drove down to San Diego and crossed the border. Yup, I went to Tijuana and walked around, to come back in.
Reasonable huh. ¬¬

It wasn’t bad. I got to meet a new place, get some dulce de leche lollipops, and some other cool random things. Then we walked back in, waited in a huge line, felt like an illegal immigrant but it all worked out. That border is insane, many people with families and lots of bags trying to go to the US. Many of them got rejected at the immigration part and went back crying. It was heartbreaking. Quite the reality check.

The next day, we went to Catalina Island, a beautiful island off the coast of San Diego. Also known as ”fucking Catalina wine mixer” place. (oh please please tell me one of you got the reference!)

We took this cruise ship kind of thing to get there and it was amazing. I was mesmerized by everything. Getting there was the breath taking part. It sort of looks like a greek island but still very California.

We took a gold cart around the island, got to pet some deers (which I would have never done a couple years ago because I was terrified of those things!), ate great food, enjoyed the awesome weather, and took photos of gorgeous sceneries. It was such a great day and I am so grateful to Jack and Elena for the opportunity.

Then we spent one more day in Pasadena and came back home. The drive back was also great, the coast of California is espectacular.

Ok, I PROMISE you guys I will finish this post soon. School is over, it’s not like I’m all busy and whatnot ;)

This was just the first week, you see. But I had to update it here. I do like this blog.

I hope you all do, too!

I.e We are finally moving!

Only one thing that we will need to sort out now, and that is the internet connection. Thankfully we can always connect our computers to our phones. But I am considering getting a 4G Portable Router for my business as a replacement for the old wired version. This should be the direction we are moving in either way. The only thing that worries me about a solution like this is the infrastructure, as it is incredibly weaker than a proper connection. Also there is a bandwidth cap on a connection like this. As a company the cap is at 40GB per month, which should be enough and should also keep the things we do not need to download to a minimum.

According to the agenda, today is supposed to be centred around a technical subject and I currently do not have one in mind. Though, like I have mentioned before I am currently reading the book called “Javascript the Good Parts”, which is a really thin book but still requires a lot of my focus to read as most of it is rather technical as those kinds of books usually are. Yesterday I read the bit about durable objects, and if you build the correctly they are not possible to compromise. IF you are not working under a rock and actually have to write JavaScript on a day to day basis, do read this book.

Two moving vans and and new wireless notification pop up, announced the worst.

“Relocation of your wireless signal.”

My leached-for-free internet of the past several months was mourned, duely.

A moment of silence, in respect.

It is a very terrible thing to be, suddenly, a Pirate without the free  booty to pillage.  One feels quite at a loss.  Like an actor whose just finished their last gig and has nothing next to move onto.

Incomplete.

Naked.

Vulnerable.

Frustrated.

…And highly inconvenienced.

The hope-through-positive-thinking, that whomever will fill said apartment, will be just as liberal with their signal, is too mean a temptation to fall under. 

In these days?

With all the assholes in the world?

…Who will break into your account without your permission?

…Whenever they freakin’ want?

Be real.

NO ONE in their right mind, would be open to that.

…And I will miss my little overly-trusting brothers, who (no doubt) have moved to other pastures that they will equally water with the blessings of their free-willingness to spread joy and free-internet-wonder amongst the masses.

It was a short romance, but it was voracious in content, and exceedingly memorable.

…I will always look on these months as a time of wonder, great growth, and astounding culture, for which: I thank you.

Not every Pirate had been so nobly sponsored.

I will never forget you.

Signed,

The Dread Internet Pirate

~D

for Muppet and Harry – and the calves we left behind

Shades of cows
Roam the paddocks
Through the churned up mud
Looking for past hay-piles
breathing heavily
Hester seeking the little red one
We fought for.

Sometimes a smaller shade
Stubby, wagging,
Seeking favorite sun places
And a swift flash of fur
green eyes following the cows.

Quiet now.
Waiting.

I thought about you a lot tonight. It was my first year to participate in Relay for Life since shortly after Hal was born. I lined up next to the track for the Survivor Walk and before the first survivor reached me, I was fighting back tears. You were a survivor for quite awhile but eventually cancer took you from us. I was 32. Jane was 5. Daryl was 2.

Mom moved on. She’s happy again. I think you’d be pleased to know that. It wasn’t an easy trial to pass through but she’s doing alright. She has a good man in her life. He knew you and respects your memory. Five years ago, they sold the house that we lived in all those years and moved across town.

I was pregnant with Hal and picked the move day to share that with her. It might not have been the best idea I’ve ever had. Telling her that news on such a fragile day. She burst into tears, which surprised me… until she explained why. It was you. You wouldn’t ever meet Hal. Wouldn’t hold him, smile at him, make him laugh.

That was one of the last things that you and I talked about, there in the hospital when we all knew it was the end. You wanted your grandchildren to remember you. You were pragmatic about it. You knew that Aaron’s kids and Daryl were too young.

And so it was that I found myself walking the track tonight, holding Daryl’s hand. He asked me why I was sad. I told him that I missed you and then he asked why.

“Because he was my Daddy,” I said.

“I thought Grandpa Ed was your Dad.”

“He was. And is. Papa Bill was my step-dad, but really he was my daddy too.”

“Oh.”

“Do you remember him?” I held my breath. I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

“Not really.” {long pause} “Wait. Didn’t he have like a little beard? And glasses! I remember his glasses.”

Maybe he just remembers you from pictures or maybe he really remembers you, but I’ll take the comfort he threw my way tonight.

Later on, I was walking the Luminaria Walk with Jane. We walked hand-in-hand as I thought about you. And Aunt Barbara. And the kids’ godmother. And other people. But mostly you.

I thought about how we were so close when I was little and how we had grown apart when I married. I thought about how you weren’t perfect, how I had struggled with that once I was old enough to see it. I thought about how much you loved me and Aaron and mom. I remembered when I scratched my initials and yours in the wallpaper of the bathroom with a plus sign in between and “= love 4ever” after it. And then I began to sob.

Jane wrapped her arm around me and we continued to walk in a silent hug. I was grateful for the dark that hid my tears but even more grateful for the beautiful, wonderful girl walking beside me. I battled inside about whether to ask her the same question I asked Daryl. I was scared to hear the response.

You see, when we talked that last time, you knew Daryl wouldn’t remember you. It hurt, I could tell, but you accepted it. It was vitally important to you, however, that Jane remember. You were confident that she was old enough. Your greatest fear was that she wouldn’t. You didn’t want to be forgotten.

She remembered you intensely for a very long time. She’d burst into tears at random moments and tell us that she missed her Papa Bill. For a couple of years, she was very sensitive about sad events. She cried watching Because of Winn-Dixie because it reminded her of losing you. Now, everyone cries at the end of Old Yeller, but when she cried, she was thinking of you.

Most everyone moves on, given enough time…especially if they are young, and eventually she did too. I can still hear her little preschool voice saying “Papa Bill” – she said “Bill” more like “Bea-ul”. But now, her life is full of many things. I didn’t know if she remembered you or not.

So I kept warring with myself on whether to ask her. To know that she did would warm my heart. To know that she didn’t would break it.

She let go of my shoulders and took my hand, mumbling an apology about it being too hot. I tentatively asked her if she remembered you.

“Barely,” she responded, with a careful look at my face. “I remember what he looked like. And I remember his laugh.”

She remembers your laugh. I think that if she was destined to remember only one thing, that was the best thing to remember. She remembers your laugh and I hope that’s enough. I love you and miss you.

Your daughter,

Sonja

My car has been a bit of a thorn in my side over the past year. And lately, I have realized more than ever how much of my income is getting sucked up by this hunk of junk.

Hunk of junk it is not. It is the only thing I sort of own that is worth over $11,000. How can that be junk? I finally owe less than it is worth, and as soon as I realized that, my first instinct was to sell it. Which makes no sense. Because I bought the car with the intention of owning and driving it for a very long time. I am more than halfway through my loan, and now that I am over the value hump, the margin will only improve. And someday, I won’t owe anything on it, and it will still be a great car. And now that I don’t live in a state where salt is sprayed on the roads 6 months out of the year, maybe it will last me till my first gray hair.

I got home tonight, and all I wanted to do was wash the winter crud off my car and switch over the plates. Easier said than done when I discovered that the one outdoor faucet was running the central station for the entire sprinkling system.

Where there is a will, there is a way. Of course, it helps to have the analytical mind that I was apparently gifted with.

I got busy scrubbing, and before I knew it I was staring at my sparkly pearl white Subaru, and a flood of memories came back to me.

I don’t need reminders of the time my car got stolen out of my driveway while I was asleep. But in case I ever do, there’s fingerprint dust stuck inside the radio console.

The car was stolen on December 30, 2010 (which was coincidentally my ex-boyfriend’s birthday).

The fingerprint dust reminds me of walking through town at 8 PM, pushing the panic button on my key chain, desperately hoping the alarm would go off inside someone’s garage. Instead, I found it out in the open, windows down, parked cockeyed behind a pizza place. Less than one quarter of a mile from the Pittsfield Police Department. Go Team.

I’m reminded of my ex-boyfriend. I purchased this car exactly 11 days before our relationship officially ended. (It took me 10 days to find my own place, one day to move my stuff out).

As I washed and washed, I thought out loud, “Washing my car used to make me feel like I had a new car. Now washing my car is making me realize how old my car has gotten.”

And then I stopped. Because every ding, every scratch, every mark on this car has a memory.

This car took me to Cape Cod after grad school. When that didn’t pan out, it took me back home to New Hampshire. And then to Vermont. And then 3,000 miles across the country to Paradise.

And so. I’ll take the struggle. It reminds me that I have something to be thankful for, and that I have something to lose. Both are good things.

When I was done scrubbing, I slapped the plates on. The emotions that ran through me felt as good as the day I crossed the state line. February 4, 2012. I made it.

I dried up the back and carefully placed my Patagonia fish sticker, which I promised myself I would not apply until I had caught my first fish while fly fishing. And two weekends ago, I caught three rainbow trout.

Then I realized that this car has been incomplete all this time because it’s been missing the medal from my first marathon. That medal drove thousands of miles with me in Elliot (my old Subaru). And I decided that I wanted the reminder of who I am, and so I ran upstairs and grabbed it. It collected a few pins over the years, also reminders of where I’ve been.

Midnight Sun Marathon – Anchorage, Alaska – June 23, 2001

My favorite car ornament – the ‘Shifter Beanie by NeeNee‘. It started out as a mistake, I think. I asked my Aunt Rita to make me a small hat for my key chain. What she sent me was so big it fit my shifter! And there it stayed. I love it. In fact, two of my friends have Shifter Beanies by NeeNee in their cars as well. (Her grandchildren call her NeeNee!) It too has collected some momentos from my past!

And my little farm animals, whom have traveled with me across many states. They remind me of life, and they remind me of my two nieces and my nephew, who each have their own little Only Hearts Collectibles.

Wooly & Milkshake

And finally, the car was feeling less like a burden and more like a companion again.

And it was beginning to look like a piece of art with those gorgeous Oregon plates and my colorful Patagonia fish sticker.

And so. I sat and admired my work for a little bit, before turning in. It feels good to appreciate the things I have, even if I have to struggle right now to keep them.

Love. It’s what Makes a Subaru, a Subaru.

And to my past, I say.. good-bye!

….considering my only whiskey consumption will be in Washington Apples…for now.

I knew that this would be entire life change. My wonderful immediate family is still in Washington, which will always be my home. That’s where the ranch-style house with the beautiful backyard and those three people who mean most to me and my closest friends reside. My home-home (you know what I mean), though, offers very little opportunity to grow. It a wonderful place, but not a place that I would ever exceed the station in life I was in. In that regard, it was too homey. The same routine. The same drama. The same roads. The same everything. Don’t get me wrong, those of you who read this that know I love you whole heartedly, but I can’t branch out that way. I mean I suppose I could have, but I chose not to while there I guess, so here I am.

I suppose what inspired me to write this little introduction into what I hope is a series of new adventures, is what I realized while watching Netflix, of all things. I sit and I watch foreign documentaries. I read about places far away. I yearn to gather some new bits of information on a daily basis and here I am at 27 years old finally doing it! Though, I will be the first to admit that I never dreamed WYOMING would be the next stop on this ride after Washington, but life works in funny ways.

In all honesty, it’s scary as hell. I’m scared out of my mind, but mostly I am excited. I’m emotional and excited. I’m homesick and I’m ready to explore. I desperately miss my family and friends at home, but I can’t wait to see what new people will teach me. It’s a whole mess of emotions and I’m trying my best to ride it out. To just go. Adventure. Life. That’s what I’m doing. If you stay doing the same thing, you’ll always get what you always got.

…and now I sound like Forest Gump, super!

Regardless, I hope that you will follow me through this new chapter in my third month of being 27 years old and having never left home.

…and now I sound like a sad reality TV show. Great…

Beyond that, I’m sure you’re clearly thinking, “So, Lindz, what is on the adventure agenda next?” Denver! Tomorrow, I will pack up and head to the mile-high city to visit my brother and sister, L & J, while Jeff is out of town on his first work trip out of state.

Thank you for following and please forgive my over use of commas and other grammatical errors. It’s been a while, alright?

Love, Lindz

I’m not saying there’s loose trash everywhere – New York is actually cleaner than I anticipated in that regard. Not clean, mind you, but unless you’re from Singapore, where you’re fined $1,000 for dropping a candy wrapper on the ground (and I’m not saying that’s wrong), most large cities don’t really qualify. I would say New York is cleaner than other cities I’ve seen, but I’d never admit to which.

I’m off track already. I was trying to talk about the mounds of garbage that look like they could slowly eat the highrises throughout the city. When we were in Brooklyn last week, we walked the length of a street with a four-foot-plus tall wall of garbage bags lining the curb the whole way.

Talk about job security.

Unlike suburbs and rural areas, where the average house generates one or two cans of garbage and recycling in a week or two weeks or whatever the actual rate is, or an apartment complex in New Mexico, where trash from a couple hundred apartments is kept behind adobe walls in dumpsters hidden from view, apartments here generate these gigantic piles of refuse that seem to multiply each day. It’s actually fascinating.

If someone had showed me an area in front of an apartment building covered in trash bags, I would have assumed it was a section in the poorer part of the city. I don’t know, I just naively speculated that wealthier parts of the city would use trash bins or something more refined.

Nope!

Upper East Side, Upper West Side, SoHo, Chelsea, doesn’t matter, they all have trash bags piled in front of the buildings. I’m sure there’s some special building somewhere that’s figured out a different system, and I suppose I wouldn’t know it because it would just mean the absence of trash in a trash-filled block, rather than the presence of trash in a trash-empathy city, but I wouldn’t know.

The best part is: many of the trash bags are clear, so I get to be a micro-voyeur. Nothing too interesting thus far, but I’m anticipating seeing the cover of a trashy novel or financial papers or who knows what else.

By the way, speaking of financial papers, when Steph and I were here last month looking for an apartment, we stumbled upon a couple people in Chelsea who were ripping open trash bags and pulling out all papers within them. Admittedly, they could have been looking through their own trash bags – we didn’t hang out long enough to watch them go to bags in front of another apartment – but I’m pretty us that wasn’t the case. Definitely reinforced my obsessive shredding of personal papers.

For now, I stare in awe at the clear and black (no white, for some reason) trash bags and wonder at both the lives that fill them and how quickly they’re filled.

Makes me want to throw less out – it’s not like it would affect that job security thing.

What does this mean you ask? Well…

1. Some serious spring cleaning and mass purging of things I probably haven’t used or seen since we moved in here 2 years ago.
2. Somehow moving all my crap with a rib still on the mend…
3. A BRAND NEW APARTMENT to make my very own while freaking out the cats as little as possible.
4. and most importantly, a brand new fantastic location right off Clark with all the cozy bars and quirky shops to make a fresh start with.
5. Oh, and Ann Sather’s. They are going to make it super hard to not eat sugar…

Ann Sather’s. Somehow that’s a side to them. Like a fruit plate or toast is a side. No logic in sugar.

There’s so much more to say about the place, it’s light and airy with actual counter space (rare in Chicago apartments), but I have to get up early tomorrow and give a big fat cat some insulin and kisses, so I’m stopping this blurb and getting some rest.

I really look forward to sharing this new adventure with everyone. I want to talk about the puppet bike (click link for fabulous video), Hamburger Mary’s bingo nights, my upcoming DIY adventures, and how my living a block from Starbucks is going to make stock values skyrocket. Invest now, I have no self control. But all of that soon enough.

Anyone want to help me pack?

“The extent of your consciousness is limited only by your ability to love and to embrace with your love the space around you, and all it contains.”
Napoleon Bonaparte

Sunday we said goodbye to the lovely in-laws and started settling in. We had a few errands to run and then it was time to unpack. Bradley had already cleared me three drawers for starters and a closet, but we added an extra drawer and half the vanity area as well. I was pretty much fully moved in by Tuesday evening.

In keeping with one of my favorite Jim Elliot quotes, “where ever you are, be all there,” I have made a decision that I’m going to live to the fullest even in the most temporary of housing, so I decorated the walls and fluffed the skirts on my porcelain dolls. This barrack is looking rather homey!

There was also quite a bit of scrubbing to do. To my new hubby’s credit, he is quite organized, and has a home for all of his belongings. He also was relatively clean for a bachelor. However, there was still a bit of cleaning to do before the desk top could be considered my new kitchen counter and before I’d want to walk barefoot on the floors. The biggest place I had to “do battle” was on the floor of the bathtub.

What appeared to be the calcified remains of a medium sized reddish-colored reptile clinging to the porcelain for dear life laughed at my first attempt to scrub with bleach. Wednesday, I doubled down my efforts and one full canister of Comet and 45 minutes of scrubbing later, we were back to a white porcelain tub.

The look on Bradley’s face when he saw the newly cleaned tub was priceless. “Wow babe. I thought that was impossible. How did you do it?” I definitely felt like wifey of the year. It is so nice being appreciated <3

Twice this week, my hubby and I went to the gym. It was so nice to be out and about and the exercise felt good. I was so excited in fact, Bradley made fun of me looking forward to the “great adventure” of going to the gym. Now we call our gym outings “gym-ventures.” I think he’s still laughing at me

Working out is definitely one of the highlights of my days.

There was a “hail and farewell” picnic Tuesday to say hello to soldiers who are new to the base and to say goodbye to the ones moving on. It was fun to socialize with his coworkers and eat cookout food. I also saw the sweet military wives from the ball again. One of them invited me to her house for a “crafternoon” on Thursday.

I made banana pudding for the craft day. And of course, I made some to eat with my hubby after work Thursday. Aaaand a tiny tea-cup of pudding for him to have for breakfast Thursday morning. In my bustle to prepare to run errands (I had to swing by the post office, was contemplating a trip to Walmart AND collected my craft supplies), I forgot the pudding in the barrack and got locked out. I made it all the way to Thursday before being locked out! Bradley had to come and let me back in.

The craft day was delightful! I met another military wife, whose husband does not work with mine, and we enjoyed a fun girl afternoon filled with chit-chatting, crafting and yummy pudding. Both of the ladies invited me to attend their children’s birthday parties in the upcoming weeks. How much fun!

Bradley and I started watching Fiddler on the Roof Thursday evening.

Our temporary marriage license has come out! We can finally apply for married housing, and move out of the barrack. While life in the barracks has been rather tolerable, I’m looking forward to getting a stove and a key to my own place! And a little more space to move around in and decorate. I can hardly wait!

To conclude our first week of married life (and to celebrate the upcoming weekend), Bradley is taking me out for Chinese food, then to see The Great Gatsby in a theater! I can hardly wait. The number of times I changed clothes before deciding what to wear on my date tonight with my Bradley Bear… That would be 4. So far. Good thing I started operation decide-what-to-wear-on-our-date an hour and a half before his usually scheduled “get off work” time!

Now I should start on my makeup.

Not only am I vainly linking to old blog posts in my first paragraph, I’m also providing proof of my inconsistency; now you can reconstruct my character flaws by tracing me through my on-line ventures.  I sense a collective rush to the un-follow button.  My next post will be distributed to a mailing list of two (including publicize).

John Donne source: Wikimedia

Years ago when I was learning about the marvelous poetry of John Donne (whose letter to Sir Henry Wotton is the inspiration for the photo of the snail shell in my footer widget), it was inevitable that I’d learn about the labels of religious apostasy.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, an apostate is someone who renounces his beliefs. The charge made of Donne is a modern one, a judgement formed by a scholar far removed from the political context of the other.  But none-the-less, the word has stuck in my head and I am thinking of the label once again.

Donne, born into a Catholic family, renounced Catholicism rather than uphold religious/political beliefs that were likely to cause him to be imprisoned, tortured, or murdered (probably all three).  According to Wikipedia, after renouncing the church in Rome, Donne was requested by King James I of England to take orders, and Donne was ordained into the Church of England.  He continued in a career of politics and religion, but his literary papers suggest he was also a subversive critic of the court and his church.  Reading his words, I often feel I am exploring a mind capable of living within the spectrum of possibilities, quite beyond binaries.  I think, for Donne, it mattered little which church he served, so long as he served God.

I recall Donne whenever I feel I am going back on something I thought I had decided upon, even had felt confident in my decision and composed some sort of mission statement or memo or doctrine that announced my beliefs and convictions.

Library at the University of Regina.

I think of Donne this week, as I recognize that I’m prepared to renounce my  former announcements of being at peace with having left my career at the university in my past.  I have since accessed the job postings on the university HR website.

We’ll be moving back to the city of my alma mater (it strikes me now that translated, this means ‘nourishing mother’) in the summer.  We’re still house-hunting, but somehow I couldn’t resist a peek toward a job-hunt as well.  And the strange thing is… this is the best I’ve felt in weeks.

I may not be as limited as Donne in my choices, but like him, a larger ethical belief calls to me.  The motto of this university is ‘as one who serves.’

Cheers go out to the Subversive Elkement, who has been prompting her readers to  a conversation about work, bliss, and passion portfolios; this post has not come out as I expected it would.  And cheers to Dan, the (Soon to Be Un)Employed Philosopher, whose own confession of reconsideration has paved the way for my public announcement; I hope to join him in embracing the larger spectrum of our personal philosophies.