In which I refuse to reference the length of time since the last post

Life is good. Summer draws to a close, which brings an odd mixture of feelings. I'm pretty proud of how active we've been this summer, filling our weekends with activities - some old favorites, some new adventures: biking to jazz festivals and Shakespeare in the park, playing tennis, reading in parks, stand-up paddleboarding, weekend trips to Seattle, hiking, crazy dinners atop closed bridges. There is still a little yet to come - a weekend at the beach and a camping trip. We've done so much that I feel no regrets about the onset of autumn, which is arguably my favorite season. I will gladly don sweaters and scarves and go to the pumpkin patch. But it's hard not to recognize that this may be our last summer in Portland. Despite a rocky start with Moved-to-Portlanditis and some culture shock, I've grown to really like this place. The popularity of the whole "go outside and be healthy" attitude here has had a pretty positive influence on us, and summer is one of the best times to embody that lifestyle. It's also the best time to explore new parts of Portland and Oregon in general. Now that the neverending rain approaches, it's like we're done discovering new places and having the happiest times until we move again.
And even that is a bizarre feeling, because it's so uncertain that this will actually be our last summer in Portland. It makes a big assumption that I get into one of the three grad schools I'm applying to, and they're all pretty darned competitive. I feel like I'm a fairly competitive candidate, but I don't want to build myself up for a huge disappointment. Still, we're planning as if we'll make a big cross-country move next June, which includes living this next year like it's our last in Portland.

Some things that are coming up:

• Grad school applications. Two this month (the first any day now) and another in November. Then trying to distract myself from the long wait until I hear back, which may happen as late as May.
• Conference presentation. A few days in Chicago for the AASP conference. I'll be presenting some work I've done in data visualization that I'm pretty proud of. I'm a little nervous everyone there is going to be unimpressed.
• Mike's second and final year of grad school. Last year got pretty tough in the spring when he had night classes nearly every day. This year he'll have Workshop (two terms of an intensive real-life group project) and a part-time internship on top of classes and his executive committee role. I'm offering to cook once a week for his workshop group just so I can guarantee a night when we're both awake in the apartment at the same time.
• Trip to Japan. We're hoping that we can save up enough to take a week-long trip to Japan in celebration of Mike's graduation. Since my grad school timing may be pretty spotty (there is one possible scenario in which I have to move to another state and miss Mike's graduation), we recently decided to plan this trip for Mike's spring break. Thus it will be a bit of a preemptive celebration but it's the most solid date range we're going to get.

Stay tuned and perhaps I'll actually blog about these things as they happen.

Compromises, completions and... caprice?

After several days of pinning, re-pinning, sewing things on backwards, ripping them out and sewing them back on again, the dress is finished. In a sense.
Have you ever taken something apart and put it back together again, or purchased cheap furniture that you assembled yourself? If so, then you are at least familiar with the possibility of that deflating feeling of (re-)assembling something and noticing a small pile of leftover screws.
Where did you go wrong? Everything seemed to make sense at the time, and you even followed the directions. All in all, it seems to be working, so why is Dread gripping its cold hand around your stomach? You should be happy that the project is complete, but every time you warily pass that TV stand or gingerly lower yourself to that chair, you'll wonder if this is the time you'll learn exactly what those three 5/8" bolts were for.
Do you remember the dress I was planning to make?

"I'm combining all three views to get a dress with non-spaghetti straps, a waist tie, shorter skirt and contrasting hem"

Well, this is the dress I ended up making:

Not too shabby! But I completely forgot to add the waist tie, which means I have no buffer to correct the slightly-too-big bodice. I made this mistake shortly after the progress shown in my last post - the non-spaghetti strap dress isn't supposed to have a waist tie in this pattern, and I forgot to make the modification before sewing the whole thing together. Oops!
I may still make some further adjustments as the skirt came out a little long for my taste. My fancy Readers Digest guide probably has some tips for doing just that, but I'm a little too sad to backtrack right now. I'm happy that it's finished and I should be pleased that it even remotely looks like a dress, but as I usually do I approached this project with unrealistic expectations of quality. Rationally speaking, I know that if I keep sewing clothing I will get better at it and eventually learn to customize patterns to fit me exactly - but right now that idea is a bit overwhelming and I just need a break. I imagine my next projects will be along the lines of home decor and possibly purses/bags. I'm thinking an upholstered headboard (probably requiring very little actual sewing), curtains, a messenger bag and a duffle bag (with wheels and an extending handle if I get really ambitious on the design side). We'll see how far I get before Mike gets tired of eating cupcakes.

Progress and cupcakes

When Mike and I visited my family in Pennsylvania a few weeks ago, Mom helped me buy a pattern, fabric and accessories for a pretty-looking sundress. I chose a pattern rather quickly (see left) but we spent about an hour running back and forth between various sections of the store trying to find the right combination of fabrics and colors. It turns out that I read the notions list incorrectly and had to visit a fabric store here in Portland but that was a great way to discover a resource for future projects. All told I have probably spent $30 on this project so as long as it ends up looking like a dress and is in the neighborhood of my size, I will consider it a good deal. (for the sake of sanity we're going to ignore how much my time might be worth).
It took me a solid three nights to prep: read directions, measure, figure out adjustments (I'm combining all three views to get a dress with non-spaghetti straps, a waist tie, shorter skirt and contrasting hem - and I'm two different sizes) and cut out all the pieces.

About to transfer markings to cut pieces with chalk

Cutting pieces is extremely boring work - you have to make sure the fabric is folded properly and determine the grain, lay everything out just right so you don't run out of fabric, pin the tissue paper to the fabric in a very specific way, cut out the right size, transfer all the markings from the paper to the fabric with chalk... at the end of it you're tired, sore, don't feel like you've done anything constructive yet, and your whole project has a chance of already being doomed. I consulted my 1990s Reader's Digest guide to sewing every step of the way. I learned that because of the design of the floral fabric that makes up most of the dress, I should probably take some measures to make the fabric match up properly (like you would with stripes or plaid), but that seemed a bit beyond my reckoning at this stage. Right off the bat my dress might look a little weird, but it's a calculated risk I was willing to take.

Oiling the machine

On day four I finally got to start pinning fabric to fabric and using the machine. I googled in vain for oiling instructions for my machine and ended up squirting a dot or two at random on the long-disused parts. I hope it doesn't catch fire or otherwise explode.
Finally! Sewing fabric to fabric at strategic junctures! It's incredibly satisfying to see the project grow as you progress through the instructions. That is, until you reach a point in the pattern (perhaps as early as Step 4 of 40) where the instructions assume a level of skill and jargon familiarity that you do not have. The helpful little illustrations no longer illuminate and you just stare at the words, occasionally flipping the fabric around in new ways trying to recreate the illustration but always somehow creating something akin to an unwearable knot. You read and re-read the instructions with various tempos and emphases ("open out center back lining and, with RIGHT sides together, sew entire center back seam in one continuous stitching." what?), each repetition joined by a new level of hatred in your voice. Eventually you might get so mad that you crumple the entire thing up into a ball and throw it on your pile of fabric, huffily cleaning up your sewing area and telling your husband you're going to bed. At 9:30.
That's just me? Well, if you do that, I recommend baking some apology/guilt cupcakes the next day when you've figured out Step 4 (thanks, Mom) and returned to sewing. Lemon with vanilla frosting seems to work well.
The dress currently looks more or less like a tank top. I'm happy to say that I have made it to step 10 without another violent, cursing incident. I think Mike is happy too.

Crafty ambitions

Like most people, I have many more ideas of things I'd like to do than I have the time or motivation to do them. Hobbies, academic pursuits, books to read, games to play. There's a never ending queue of entertainment and self improvement that I will never make a dent in, yet I am powerless to stem its growth.
I have a particular weakness for crafty pursuits. I have done most types of crafts at least once in my youth, and for some reason I am infinitely overconfident in my skills with these crafts. I see something in a store or online that I like and I think, "I could make that and it would look just as good. And it would cost less and be totally rewarding." Some crafts are difficult to screw up or I've had more practice in them, so they go relatively well. Now that I've learned how to stop turning them into tubes, I can knit a pretty good scarf and have recently expanded to hats. Other crafts are new to me and don't serve as well - cake decorating has been a bit of a mess so far. This is very frustrating for me because I always have a clear mental image of what I want to achieve and don't understand why I can't produce that image on the first try. I just get way too ambitious for my own abilities.
The latest craft upon which I have foisted my unrealistic expectations is sewing. Now, I used to do quite a bit of sewing when I was rather young- I submitted handmade outfits to the county fair competitions and won, parading around in my victory outfit for weeks to come But that was a long time ago. Nevertheless, I have dreams of making clothes and curtains and pillows and everything textile for the rest of my life. Practically speaking, this would be life-changing if I could become great at this. I have a very difficult time finding clothes in my size that suit my taste. Most of what I do find is more expensive than I'd like. So why not sew my own perfect wardrobe for a fraction of the cost?
Rationally, I know this is far too much to expect of myself. But I'm a perfectionist and rather stubborn so I will maintain this vision until it is realized or until it sends me into an angry meltdown.
The first project to test this vision is a pretty, classic sundress I'm hoping to wear to at least one wedding this year. For some reason I'm going to blog about it. I invite you to follow along if this sort of thing interests you. Wish me luck!

Yep, still alive.

I started this blog as a way to keep in touch with all the people who are near and dear to my heart but far away from Portland. I'm terrible about calling people (a trait exacerbated by the three-hour time difference to the east coast), so this was to be a way to share all those little life updates that people just know when you live and work near each other.

Apparently when my mother's consulting clients brought her to Portland for extended periods of time, I subconsciously believed she would serve as my personal ambassador to the east coast: collecting my news and distributing it to ... her government/our family and friends? That metaphor falls apart pretty quickly. Clearly both the subconscious belief and the metaphor were ill-chosen and unfair. The point is, it's time for some conscious effort at blogging instead of unconscious reliance on magical/otherwise made-up methods.

So here's a little update on the things that have happened since my last post and that come to my mind right now:
I got a "new" job. I'm still at the same school, but I've switched from alumni relations to being the DBA (official title "Development Information Services Coordinator", a title my coworkers and I promptly shortened to "DISC", a nickname everyone's having fun with). We have a few vacant positions right now, so I'm still covering a bit of my old job until we make some new hires. It's been a bit stressful at times but I really enjoy the new work and think it will put me on a better path to grad school. They've also just finished remodeling/rearranging our offices, which is a lovely boost to morale.

I started a volunteer gig. Not the kind of volunteer work that pulls at your heartstrings, but interesting stuff nonetheless. I'm a member of a local professional development organization for non-profit development officers - the organization has a new analytics committee which serves other committees' needs to crunch data about their membership and programs. I'm currently working on analyzing salary and benefits-related results from our annual membership survey, slicing and dicing by all the standard independent variables and a few interesting, new ones as well. If we have time, maybe we'll compare it to the national industry surveys, too.

I've started reading again. This is pretty exciting for me. Apart from summers, I stopped reading for pleasure through most of high school and all through college. Between coursework and after-school stuff, I just didn't have the energy or motivation. I spent most of my free time in the first year after college cutting paper and such for our wedding. I flirted with reading but it was sporadic at best and always fluff. I rediscovered the joy of reading between our wedding and landing a job in Portland ... between road trips and just a ton of free time (and Mike The Book-Devourer as a great example), I read more in a few weeks than I had in years. Work and four months of Vitamin D insufficiency kept me from making it a habit, but I feel like it's coming back now. The Multnomah County Library (and its extensive digital collections program - ebooks AND audiobooks) has become my favorite thing about Portland and I'm alternating between Nora Roberts-type fare and 800-page biographies of US presidents, classic literature, etc. Apart from a brief, regrettable foray into Nicholas Sparks, it's been wonderful.

I'm finally researching grad schools. On my very last day of undergraduate classes it hit me that grad school was no longer a fanciful "maybe" for my future: I knew then that I wanted to go. I didn't know what concentration or to what school, and I still felt a need for a break between undergrad and grad school, but the itch was there. Two years later, I'm finally starting to look at schools, specific programs and the (new) GRE. It's still a ways off and there are lots of questions to be answered (do I want a Master's or Phd? How long can I delay my biological clock, and is it crazy to have a baby in the middle of studying for an advanced degree?), but it's starting to feel a bit more real.

Maybe I'll call that enough for now, before this becomes unfinishable and/or unreadable. Because updates should cover expectations about the future in addition to recaps of the past, I'll give you a brief glimpse of my next few weeks and bid you buenas noches (language note: it just now strikes me that this literally translates to "good nights", just like buenos días means "good days". Why the pluralization? Not only this, but every night, should be great? Works for me).

So, in August we expect: Mike to get his wisdom teeth pulled, (consequently) me to perfect my scratch mashed potatoes and other mushy foods, a possible kayaking trip (a first-ever for both Mike and me), a trip to Pennsylvania, and a month of puppy envy. Oh, and hopefully a few blog posts, too!

If you're reading this from the east coast and didn't know I would be in the Baltimore/PA area in August, please chalk it up to my aforementioned suckitude at calling people. Drop me a line if you want to make a visit happen and we'll figure it out.

Until next time, insert catchy sign-off here.

Perfectionism

I tend to be a huge perfectionist. I think I do okay keeping it out of my personal relationships, but anything where my work will be on display will be stressed over and scrutinized with every waking moment (and many sleeping). This is why I had a rocky social life in college--becoming progressively more reclusive between freshman year and handing in my senior honors thesis--and why I have minor panic attacks every few weeks when I come home from work. It's why I had a series of terrifying nightmares about wedding planning for the entire 18 months that Mike and I were engaged, and possibly why I'm a rather slow reader. Over the years I've attributed this to nagging insecurity, a generally nervous/anxious personality, an acceptable learning style and just plain being up against challenging work. It's also something I've been a little afraid to lose, as it may be the key ingredient to why I did well in college, why I receive good performance reviews at work, and why I felt proud of every last detail of our wedding (one year ago this Saturday? What?). I'm not sure what benefit comes from the slow reading, but I generally feel happy with the results so why question the methods, right?

But today, a friend sent out an email with this quote attached, and it struck a gigantic chord with me. It might have struck several chords in I-IV-V progression, actually. I think this understanding of the narrowing gap between your standards and your ability to produce work commensurate to them is essential to having the best of both worlds: quality results without the ulcer-inducing stress. If I could go through college again now, I would easily be able to produce the level of work I was striving for the entire four years. I think if I had known that then, I would have worked as much but lost less sleep.

Now, I'm not saying that I've driven myself to drink or that I've ever actually had an ulcer due to stress. But there are some nights where I just need Mike to tell me that I'm good at things before I feel I can face everything on my plate for the next day. I look at the current state of the program I run versus where I'd like it to be and it's incredibly daunting. I can't see the progress I've made (personally or professionally) when I think about it, and I think I'm not doing well enough.

So I thought I'd share this attractively-presented quote and extremely self-centered analysis with all of you, in case you're like me and need a little epiphany. Personally, I'll be keeping it near as a reminder for the stressful days. It will come, eventually - just keep trying.

Sea Rats

Sea Rats (n.)

Combat rations or Meals Ready to Eat.

Example: “In the Army we had to eat sea rats in the rain… they were so wet and soggy.”

Contributor: Melody McBeth

Sasquatchcentennial

Sasquatchcentennial (n.)

The 150^th anniversary of an event, place or thing.

Example: “Bigfoot nearly burned down the forest with all the candles on his cake at the sasquatchcentennial.”

Contributor: Michael Armstrong

Movedtoportlanditis

This post is an apology to everyone that I have fallen out of touch with over the last few weeks and months. It's a pathetic excuse that some of you have heard, but one that I'm going to make anyway: I'm allergic to Portland.

What does this have to do with not calling you? Well, basically, I've been sick for the past three and a half months. A few weeks ago I got tired of waiting it out and hoping it was just the holiday round of sicknesses made ever worse by being unused to the local germs. Hopes dwindled that I was simply an example of how American colonization would have fared if the natives were the ones who had been immune carriers of the bubonic plague.

So I went to the doctor, had several little vials of blood drawn, and waited for the results. It turns out there are two things at play here: (1) I am allergic to the mold that thrives everywhere in wet, mildly temperate Portland and (2) I have a Vitamin D deficiency from the lack of sunlight in Portland. My Vitamin D levels were at 1/3 the minimum acceptable level, and at 1/5 the level my doctor likes to see.

I feel lucky that I haven't wanted to throw myself off the roof. Vitamin D apparently acts as both a hormone and a vitamin, affecting your mood as well as your immune system. I've basically been catching every cold that comes my way and suffering mild depression that has manifested itself as an intense lack of energy and lethargy. It's about all I can do to be productive at work, and then talking to friends and family seems like a pretty daunting task when I get home.

The good news is that supplements, tanning beds and the proximity of summer mean that I will hopefully be back to normal soon, and I intend to catch up when that happens. I miss a lot of people. Until then, however, I'm going to take a nap. Goodnight.

Mareacle

Mareacle (n.)

An unbelievable occurrence, frequently attributed to a deity of some kind.

Example: “Eat some of these mareacle berries and you’ll get the magic tongue.”

Contributor: Dana Crawford

Rum

Rum (n.)

An area within a building delineated by walls.  When preceded by a possessive, short for “bedroom.”

Example: “It’s been a long day, I just want to go to my rum.”

Contributor: Brian Zinkel

Teefbrush

Teefbrush (n.)

A small brush used for cleaning teeth

Example: “Damn, yous got a lotta teefbrushes. Whatchu gon’ do wif a hundred teefbrushes?”

Contributor: Sean McBeth

An Illustrated Dictionary

I had a random idea today and decided to follow through on it. I'm putting together a dictionary of bad words - not swear words, but rather words that are bastardizations of real words created by children or grammatically-challenged adults - in the style of a children's dictionary. The first entry is below. I have a few more in the queue that I'll work on, but feel free to suggest words such as "teefbrush" and "puss" (noun meaning small bag often carried by women). Real, correctly spelled/used words need not apply.

I'll eventually put these in an alphabetized PDF with a goofy intro, if the ambition lasts long enough. The first entry comes from my own childhood struggle with words, as remembered by my mother.

maggot-finding glass  (n.)

A lens used to make small objects appear larger.

Example: “Mo-om! Sean’s burning ants again with the maggot-finding glass!”

Contributor: Melody McBeth

I don't understand Facebook

I use Facebook every day for work. I manage our social media outlets to the best of my ability in the face of all the other duties I try to juggle. Occasionally, I attend a webinar or read some articles about "new" strategies for social media (the same five strategies have been recycled for the past two years) to try to keep my skills sharp and offer my organization's followers what they're looking for and coming to expect from a nonprofit's Facebook Page or from a Page in general. So, I like to think I'm pretty good with Facebook and Twitter and LinkedIn and even Classmates.com.

But then a strange thing happened.

The Move: Part 3

Settling in


We've been here for a little over two weeks now, and it's feeling very much like home. We are still in awe of the increased square footage - occasionally, Mike comes into the living room and says something like "I'm sorry, did you say something? I couldn't hear you, I was in the other room." I didn't say anything. He just revels in the possibilities that arise from rooms, plural.

We have hidden away most of our superfluous junk in closets and storage spaces, and now we just have some white walls and empty floor space. We're getting excited about planning decorations - posters/artwork, curtains, plants. We have a particularly stellar poster of a rearing pony that will be residing in the bathroom when we the frame arrives in the mail. Everything else is a bit of a mystery. We have some posters and such from our former lives, but no firm plans of what to do.

Today we completed an act which I consider essential to feeling rooted in a home: we baked something. Not just anything - peppermint pirate cupcakes, 100% from scratch! I think I can say that I have not opened a box of cake mix or a tub of frosting since Mike and I got married. Check out Mike's blog for a picture. There's something awesome about filling your home with the familiar smells of favorite foods... and something to be said for getting the first messes out of the way. Eventually, you're going to spill a drink or something all over everywhere. The first mess is the most stressful because of those rose-colored shiny-new-apartment glasses you've been wearing, so why not take the plunge and make a chocolate cake, where you are guaranteed to get cocoa powder all over the table when you're measuring?

Today we also officially hosted our first guest since getting settled - my mom is in town again for work this week, and she stopped up for a few minutes before heading to her hotel. Tomorrow night we will cook her one of our favorite recipes - Boston Hill Chicken. It's to die for. If you come visit us, we might make you something just as tasty, and even let you sleep on our air mattress. You should think about it.

The Move: Part 2

The Big Day

After two agonizing weeks of anticipation, the day was finally upon us. Time to move all of our IKEA furniture and disassemble the "fortress made of boxes", as Mike termed it.

I woke up at 6am, determined to walk to my favorite corner bagel shop and get some sustenance and caffeine for our 7am appointment to sign paperwork. Apparently, I had invented the idea that the place opened at 5am and ended up going to the Plaid Pantry, which is an extremely poor man's Sheetz/7-11. I returned to our studio with mini donuts and machine-sputtered cappuccino, and we headed to meet our building manager.

At 10, we got the U-Haul, and Mike spent the next few hours being a champ at driving it.

So, it turns out I didn't really get any pictures of moving things, since my hands were pretty full the whole time. So instead, here's a picture from our lunch break:

And a picture of 2/3 of the moving team:

And this sighting of Mario:

We managed to get everything done in about 4 hours, including a lunch break. We only had to carry the boxspring and mattress up the six flights of stairs - the couch and TV stand magically fit in the tiny elevator, which was cause for celebration. We followed tradition and unpacked the TV and PS3 first so that we could take a movie break over pizza and cider. We finished moving out of the old place on Sunday and started the arduous task of unpacking...

TO BE CONTINUED

The Move: Part 1

Packing Up

If you've been reading Mike's blog, you already know that we have found a new apartment and are moving in next Saturday. That means that, in the meantime, we are packing. Vaguely related items are going into uniform white bankers' boxes, where they will be irretrievable until every last box is unpacked in the new place. Our tiny studio is slowly being overtaken by towers of these mislabeled boxes - they were lent to us by my boss, who just moved this summer and had been organized enough to label her boxes. We haven't bothered to scratch out her labels and try to categorize the mishmash of items in each box.

We have a growing pile of items to donate: things that have become redundant over the past seven months in our little studio or that won't have a place in our new apartment. One such thing was an old desk of Mike's, which he doesn't entirely need for his laptop and doesn't tend to use as a work surface. We have just returned from a failed attempt to donate this desk to the thrift store two blocks down the street. After a grueling 15 minutes of lugging the thing down the street, navigating the crowded terrain of Portland's absurdly narrow and unkempt sidewalks, this perfectly good desk was deemed too shabby by what is apparently the world's pickiest thrift store. So we lugged it back and placed it next to the dumpster in front of our apartment, hoping some needy soul will find it and give it a good home.

It's remarkable how much stuff we have. We didn't move out here with many things - Mike filled about 1/8 of a moving truck container (most of that space was due to the couch and bed), and I basically filled the trunk area of a minivan. But between wedding gifts and several trips to IKEA for much-needed furniture, we now need to rent a U-Haul and possibly make several trips with it. How do you fill a 300 square foot apartment with that much stuff?

Stay tuned for an update about Saturday and the move itself!

Whoops!

I've fallen woefully behind on updating this blog. Life has been rather busy since my last post, with travel for Thanksgiving and Christmas and lots of year-end projects and events at work.

Now, I can postpone no longer, so it seems time for a year-end wrap-up.

Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving was marked by a redeye flight to Baltimore and immediate vows to never take such a flight again. Holy cow. Who knew how many parents would opt to take their screaming babies on a plane at 11:30 at night? Don't get me wrong, I feel for the babies ... and the parents might not have had many options, but that was the loudest flight I've ever been on. Long story short, after 15 grueling hours of travel we finally made it to my parents' house. Food, movies, Sean's birthday, more food, more movies. Thanksgiving day was marked by watching the Macy's parade after 4 hours of sleep, preparing my favorite foods with Mom (baked corn!), and Mike killing us all at the family tradition of stating what you're thankful for. He had the poor fortune to go first after never hearing of this tradition before (I forgot about it) and subsequently whipped out a tear-jerking speech.

On Friday, we saw the new Harry Potter movie, then went to the inappropriately-named "Christmas Tree Store", which only had 3 Christmas trees and was a bit like an over-sized Walgreens with a holiday-themed sign. Weird.

Saturday, we drove out to Philadelphia for Thanksgivingston. This is the second year that I've been able to attend the annual event, and the first time that Mike has gotten to join. It was pretty relaxing, full of games, wonderful home-cooked meal, ridiculous conversation, and generally was a great time. PS drove us back to the airport in the morning, where a TSA agent laughed at my luggage and we made it home without a hitch. We rather expected some hitches given the new security measures - we were completely prepared to opt out of the carcinogenic scanners at BWI, which they have but apparently don't use. We faced no long security lines and it seemed like a pretty normal travel day.

Christmas

Well, before we get right into Christmas, let me tell you about work. I had three alumni events in 5 days, the final of which ended at 10pm the night before our flight to Chicago. They all went rather well but I was exhausted from the extra hours and from fighting off a cold for the two weeks leading up to Christmas. We flew in to Chicago on Wednesday morning, hung out with Nate and Dana for an evening and went to Wauconda in the morning. Present wrapping, copious amounts of Rock Band 3 with the entire Armstrong family, dogs, food, Christmas lights, Christmas Eve church service and carols. Fresh "noodles" (the Armstrong traditional holiday dish), containers and containers of sugar cookies. Excellent presents and stocking stuffers. Naps. Hanging out with Mike's childhood friends, who are awesome. I think the only thing that wasn't great was that I got slammed with a head cold on Christmas night. I had planned to go ice skating with Mike but stayed home to sleep instead. The next day I attempted to swallow a Dayquil pill, not realizing how swollen my throat was. Turns out, Mike's pretty good with the Heimlich maneuver. We switched to liquid Dayquil and Nyquil after that.

When it came time to fly back home, we ended up standing in line outside Midway for an hour in line for curbside check-in. The line inside was phenomenally long thanks to the East Coast weather aftermath. Our plane into Denver was delayed an hour and we missed our connection to Portland. The next flight didn't leave for another 7 hours, so we ended up getting home at 11:30pm instead of 2:30pm.

New Year's

I was still sick by the time New Year's Eve rolled around, so we just stayed in, watched movies, made our traditional milkshakes and toasted with some sparkling apple juice at midnight. On Sunday we managed to get out of the apartment and go ice skating at the Lloyd Center.

All-in-all, a rather eventful series of holidays. Now it's back to the daily grind, peppered by such exciting events as a visit from Mom and Mike's graduate school applications. We're also looking to move into a bigger apartment sometime in February or March.

With any luck, I'll be posting more frequently ... call it a New Year resolution, if you will. But if you don't, I won't be as embarrassed if I fail.

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!