Running

I've always hated running just for running's sake. I can trace this hatred back to the first form of

organized sports I ever played. I have vivid memories of practicing with my 8-year-old AYSO soccer team - we ran from the sideline of the field, down a long hill to a pile of grass (seriously, it was just a huge stack of dead grass next to a poorly-seeded soccer field) and back up again. I was always dead last and couldn't breathe for the rest of practice.

Fast forward all the way to early high school years, when I was training for my black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Part of the week-long blackbelt test included running 3 miles. I practiced for months to run the requisite number of laps around the parking lot. Most of the time, my stomach would make these weird noises after my training sessions, as if it wanted to collapse on itself. I believe I listened to a lot of Linkin Park and/or Blink-182 to get me through it.

Leap ahead again to 11th grade at Mercersburg. Tennis preseason, my first days as a student at the school, trying to make new friends. 3 laps around the soccer field in 90-degree weather. Let's just say that the entire team regretted my decision to have pasta with red sauce for lunch that day. Later that year, I tried lacrosse and broke my foot when we ran 7 miles over a mountain.

When I got to college and played Ultimate Frisbee, I mostly avoided the distance-running thing. Many of my teammates were doing it for conditioning, but I found the prospect of running laps utterly boring (not to mention possibly embarrassing, as I've been told both that I run like the Terminator and like a gazelle, neither of which were meant in a terribly positive light). Now, give me a disc to run after and I would chase it down with what some have referred to as "freakish" speed for someone of my height. I sort of love sprinting. But I could do that four or five times in a row before I started having flashbacks to that 11th grade tennis incident, because I wasn't conditioning myself for endurance. I considered it a few times but determined that the only way I could get motivated to run would be to have a very convincing recording of a buzzing chainsaw and someone growling "you can run, but you can't hide!" Teammates were on the lookout to snatch the headphones from my ears and tell me that everything was okay.

So with all of this bodily betrayal and public humiliation behind me, why am I suddenly jogging? To be honest, I'm not really sure. I spent my first year out of college doing next to nothing physically, and I suppose that scared me a little. Mike and I have determined to work together to stay (relatively) in shape, and jogging has always been the most obvious option for lack of gym membership. So I tried doing a mile a few weeks ago when Mike was out, just to see how much wind I'd be sucking when it was over. And it wasn't so bad... aside from the two guys who whistled at me as I was on the home stretch. Now Mike and I have jogged together two weeks in a row and are slowly increasing our distance. The prospect of seeing more interesting parts of the city on our jogs is a great incentive to build up endurance. So far we've done 1.2 miles max, hoping to hit 2.5 by the end of December.

And we're avoiding the pasta with red sauce on running days.

Mommy and Daddy!

I'm not a two-year-old. Since the age of about 12 I have called my parents "Mom and Dad." But seeing my parents for the first time in four months was reminiscent of the anxiety separation I experienced as a toddler: intensely anticipating the arrival of Mommy and Daddy.

My parents visited us Sunday through Thursday of this week. I had no idea how much I had missed them until about a week before their arrival, when my phone calls with Mom started to end with "see you soon." The days leading up to Sunday were filled with anxious hours of cleaning the apartment (even dusting the blades on the ceiling fan), scoping out restaurants and tourist sites to visit, plotting our route to the airport, sending Mom last-minute emails about what clothes she should pack and how she must remember not to pump her own gas or use the cell phone while driving in Oregon. Everything we could think of to make their visit an enjoyable one and, most importantly, to leave them with a positive impression of Portland.

But the second we saw them passing the security checkpoint in PDX, my nerves started to dissipate and everything felt natural again with them. Mom and I were giggling, Dad almost fell over at the end of the moving walkway ... everything was normal. We spent the week together sightseeing around town, trying new restaurants and old favorites like VooDoo Donut. While I was at work and Mike was studying for a midterm, they did some exploring of their own and have now seen more of Oregon than Mike and I have!

At Portland Meadows, the local racetrack, we caught a fabulous glimpse of Mount Hood. Although it didn't come out in any of my pictures, it would have been just to the right of the sign in the one below. Nevertheless, it's a cute picture.

Of course, the week ended much too soon. But we get to see them again in about three weeks for Thanksgiving! I can't believe the holidays are almost here, but I say that every year.

'til next time!

Say what now?

Thursday evening, I returned from what felt like a week-long absence from home. After surviving Reunion Weekend, I had immediately flown to Chicago for 5 days to attend the aforementioned conference and spend time with my wonderful in-laws.

Returning home to my husband after a long and tiring absence was an amazing feeling: reminiscent of our airport reunions in college, when we would see each other once every 60 days... yet also an infinitely happier feeling.

Returning to Portland was a decidedly different feeling. Relieved to be back to the comforts of home, to be back to a city that I'm far more familiar with than Chicago. Mike and I rode the train out to Clackamas yesterday for an interview and to see Clackamas for the first time. It's wonderfully easy to get there, and it's a nice feeling to master the public transit system and travel with confidence. But just when you think you know how everything works out, a guy reeking of acetone (or some other alcohol-smelling chemical not meant to be imbibed) steps on the train and tells you that you look like Sonny and Cher, King and Queen, and Elvis all in one breath.

Yup. Sonny and Cher.

=

?

Some Updates

I have been pretty bad about posting regularly to this thing. Mike has been way more diligent and I feel compelled to attempt to keep up with him. So here's a little bit of what I've been up to lately. I should probably write about some of the traveling we did between May and September, but I'll save that for a later day.

September has quite simply flown by. It seems like yesterday we were counting down the days til vacation and Pat & Brittany's wedding in the middle of the month. Shortly after the wedding, a fellow Gettysburg frisbee alumnus joined us in Portland and we've started hanging out. It's been a totally refreshing experience and Mike and I are really excited to have a friend in town, pathetic as that sounds. Mike started classes today, and now it's practically October.

This Friday and Saturday is Reunion Weekend at the school where I work. As the only staff member responsible for Alumni Relations, this event is basically entirely up to me to plan. When I think about what that would have meant at Mercersburg, it's kind of daunting. At my current school, however, it's a much smaller-scale event and a bit less intimidating. In many ways, though, that has actually made it much more stressful. I'm nervous about how the weekend will actually go and what will happen in the aftermath. There are approximately a million things I would do differently next year - would have done this year, if I had the time. Hopefully things will go as well as they can and then next year can be great.

Sunday morning, I fly out to Chicago for the AASP conference, which will be a good chance for me to create/improve some structure and process for the work I do. Although it stinks that it's right after Reunion Weekend, I think the timing is otherwise perfect. I've been on the job just long enough to be able to think critically during the sessions and get a lot of use out of them. I'm happy to be staying with my brother-in-law and his girlfriend for the duration of my stay, and I should get to see the parents-in-law, too. It will be a good visit, but bizarre without Mike there.

So, lots of new things and experiences and stressors, but life is pretty good overall. I've come to believe that, when done correctly, marriage is an exercise in perfect happiness. Whether it's talking for hours about everything and nothing, battling gigantic moths in the middle of the night (perhaps more on that later), a welcome-home kiss or just cooking dinner, it's heaven. I can't believe how ridiculously lucky I am.

More later, maybe!

The Joys of Budgeting

I'm pretty sure no one likes budgets, and certainly no one who is married likes budgets. When you're single, it's a fairly simple thing to look at your paycheck, decide not to leave your house aside from commuting to work, and emerge from your fortress of solvency when you feel better about the balance on your checking account. When living with my parents, making a decent salary and having almost no expenses, I did enjoy opening Quicken and seeing how much I was saving. It felt a bit like playing a video game and I was leveling up. Of course, I was saving this money for when we got married and moved to Portland -- the very thing that would make me dread my formerly beloved hobby of opening Quicken on a daily basis.

When you're married, re-evaluating a budget feels like telling your spouse you don't want them to have any happiness, ever. Phrases like "if you want to play soccer this fall, we probably shouldn't see your favorite band this month" start to come up. You feel like the Auschwitz doctor who made Sophie choose between her children. Not that your spouse is telling you that you should feel that way, it's just an entirely different thing to ask the one you love to give something up.

So, we just finished outlining our monthly budget. There's a good chance it will completely change on Tuesday as we hope for a positive outcome from Mike's job interview, but in the meantime we have a plan for the rest of the month. We're doing fine, but this stuff is never fun.

Not exactly the first impression I was going for

New faculty & staff orientation officially started yesterday at work. This means scavenger hunts, lots of getting-to-know-yous, and several shared meals. Monday night, the newbies and their significant others were invited to a barbecue at the interim head of school's home. It was a relaxing, laid-back affair with a few touches of charm that made it really nice. It's always fun to show off/introduce Mike to people, and I think he enjoyed himself. Most of the conversations were warm, fun and interesting, with the exception of being told we looked "too young to be married" and, more specifically, "12 years old" a few times.

Now, I should preface the rest of the story by saying that I'm pretty used to getting interrupted and, once the cause for interruption has passed, never having the opportunity to finish a story. Many an anecdote, argument or question has gone unfinished due to someone's "OH MY GOD I JUST REMEMBERED". Quite often, the fact that my topic is never reopened is a blessing, as it wasn't worthy of a long-drawn-out telling. Regardless, I've stopped fighting to make sure I get to finish my stories. I feel this completely justifies what's about to follow.

So we're at this barbecue pretty early in the evening, before the buffet has been opened, and we're moving from group to group making chit-chat as is the norm at these things. We're speaking with several of the new teachers from my orientation group about family, friends, Chicago, what have you. I'm explaining some aspect of my job, probably, when the catering director comes over to our little circle and announces that the buffet is open. We thank her and she moves on to the rest of the party. A member of our discussion group gestures to me. At this point, it should be mentioned that I am standing in such a way as to block the rest of our group from proceeding to the buffet tables. Thinking he's gesturing for me to lead the way to dinner, I immediately turn around and head in that direction. A marked lack of footsteps causes me to turn and double back as I realize he just wanted me to finish my statement. I do so and then head to food, the rest of the group hanging back and not getting their food for another fifteen minutes.

At this point it's probably worth mentioning that I was also first in line for the lunch buffet at orientation, again by a long shot.

I look like a total fat kid foodie.

Is this a Portland thing, that people aren't incredibly eager to get in line for food? I've never been to a buffet function where guests weren't forming a line as soon as they saw the lids come off the serving dishes.

This incident, combined with the way I apparently say "but I'm hungry" has added a new nickname to Mike's list: Rolly. As in the fat puppy from One Hundred and One Dalmatians.

As in this guy:

"But I'm hungry, momma, I really am!"

Sigh.

"Mona Lisa smile" might be a bit generous

I have a problem. It is something I have known about for years, most memorably coming to light around my freshman year of college, and yet it is something I frequently forget about until it hits me right in the face. Which is ironic because the problem is, in fact, my face.

When I am feeling perfectly neutral and void of any identifiable emotion, I have one of the grumpiest/most upset faces that mankind has ever seen. People approach me and ask me what's wrong. Others recoil in shock and give me a concerned look. Countless others have probably avoided all interaction with me whatsoever on account of my imagined meanness and intolerance. Who knows how many lifelong friendships have never seen the light of day just because someone looked at me when I was bored or lost in my own little world?

I generally consider myself a nice, happy person, and I think most people who know me well would agree. A friend once tried to salvage my reputation by theorizing that what I refer to as my "neutral face" is actually a secretly sad face, and that this could explain why I look so horrifying if I'm not being careful. But some solitary experiments and conscious efforts have illustrated to me that this is, sadly, not the case. I have tried clearing my mind and closing my eyes in front of a mirror, then opening them to see what I look like. I have seen pictures of myself shortly after they were taken and been shocked by the difference between my state of mind and state of face. The most recent example of this would have to be my Oregon driver's license, for which I tried to give a small, lip-only smile. The DMV photographer, upon seeing my wretched expression on the screen, pulled out what must have been his stock, that's-not-so-bad-and-I-really-don't-want-to-take-it-again line:

"you have the Mona Lisa smile. No, you do!"

No, I don't. And for that, I apologize to my friends, family, acquaintances, and those people who have taken pains to never meet me. You didn't do anything wrong, it's just my face. I have asked Mike (who is now calling me Miss Grimace because I "wear purple and frown all the time") to tell me when I make these faces so I can train myself before I become a Mean Old Lady. I'm sure you'll be able to tell for yourselves how well that's working.

July in Pictures (sort of)

It's hard to believe August is already here. In fact, I woke up with a start this morning as I remembered that I needed to cut a check for our rent.

Let's recap the month:

Early July - I started my job and my boss quit all in the same week, pretty much.

July 4 - Independence Day! We celebrated our first holiday as a married couple (and in Portland) by going to see the Beavers (minor league baseball) play at PGE Park. The Beavers beat Las Vegas, some people guessed whether words were names of cheeses or not, and there were some pretty great fireworks:

(Fireworks at PGE park)

July 10 - Saw the Timbers (minor league soccer, soon-to-be MLS team) play against Miami at PGE Park. As mentioned in Mike's blog, this involved a lot of sawing off sections of a log. We also saw one of Miami's players head-butt the crossbar of the bench shelter in an ill-advised attempt to rescue a stray ball. There are ball girls for that, guy... settle down.

(weird rubber-band-face sculpture outside PGE park)

Mid-July - developed an unhealthy obsession with Spider solitaire. Also, tried out a pickup Ultimate game a few blocks from our apartment. It's completely disorganized and we put way too many people on way too small of a field, but it's fun.

Also also, some friends visited from Maryland and we gave them the walking tour of Portland: Powell's, downtown, and Cha Taqueria - which are apparently three of the four places we will take most of our guests to (VooDoo Donut being the fourth). Hopefully we will see more of them next year when they move to Oregon!

All month long - Mike is the best husband ever and takes care of all the housework while I'm at work. I'm enjoying the separation of duties until he gets a job and we have to figure out how to keep up with everything! Is it weird to hire a maid for a studio apartment?

(Mike making sweet & sour stir-fry, one of his specialties)

Late July - we set up a joint checking account with Wells Fargo, which was one of the most bizarrely awesome banking experiences of my life thus far. Our banker rubbed her hands together and cackled when she asked us to enter our "secret codes" when selecting our debit PINs. She told us things and then asked that we not share them with her grandmother. Finally, she gave us high fives when we were finished.

We also spent a lot of time on soccer this month. Between the World Cup and finding a decent place for Mike to play, soccer has been a huge theme for our summer.

(Mike running like the wind)

July 31 - Went to a crawfish boil hosted by a friend's girlfriend's sister's fiancé whom we recently met. It was a pretty fun time, with live music, lots of little kids running around offering people cupcakes they had just dropped in the dirt, and babies throwing up on their dads. That dad totally deserved it, though.

(Mike and me at the crawfish boil)

So that was July!

And now for the good stuff

So now that we are officially in Portland, I suppose it's time to start using this thing for its originally intended purpose. Rather than attempt to recap what has passed in recent months, I'm just going to start fresh. So be on the lookout! I'm hoping to post about once a week.

You should also check out Mike's blog, draculacrossing.tumblr.com . It's great.