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!