I don't like getting up early for those first 3-5 minutes just after I force myself out of bed. After that, I am always glad to awake. I woke up extra early to go to Brian's 'Elegant Agility' class (yes, please, I want some of that) that started at 6:30 am. Ugh. But once on the road, all was well and the class was fantastic. He breaks down the movements so you are only concentrating on one little thing and then at the end he puts it all together and voila - elegant agility. Actually, I think the name of the class is terribly silly but I like it all the same.

Waking up early also reminds me I can do anything I want. So often I cop out and hit the snooze button but, wait! There are so many benefits (and a great sense of accomplishment) to be reaped from a little discipline and sacrifice. Shocking.

A note needs to be added for my latest addiction (this is in the category of Things-Lacking-In-Self-Discipline): Marcy always has a stash of chocolate covered pomegranates in her drawer. Yes, that's right, chocolate covered pomegranates. The are an edible form of Meth, crack cocaine, and heaven wrapped up into one sweet little ball of joy. And you can't stop eating them until you have the inevitable stomach ache that follows such an indulgence. Does my stomach hurt now? Yes. Will I go eat another handful before I go home? Yes.

And I had two interesting dreams (don't get bored, I work at a place where dream analysis is big. On another interesting tangent, I definitely overheard a conversation where two of my co-workers talked about their psychic connections with their cats. Yes.). Dream one: First dream EVER where I successfully revisited the Tennyson center, was working with kids, and felt in control and not afraid for my life. And, in my dream, I almost drove a bus into some giant gravel crater. Dream 2: In this dream everyone slept on washing machines instead of beds and all the machines were lined up and we were all sleeping and I was annoyed because the lady next to me was resting her head on my feet. And I got yelled at for using too much electricity.

she's fighting with the sky, she thinks she can

I had my newest adventure this evening.

I went to my first roller derby practice. Though, it was hardly derby and more learn-how-to-skate-so-you-don't-die-or-severely-maim-yourself-you-silly-girl-who-can't-skate.

I was terrified when I rolled up to the wagon wheel skating rink, with its back woods location, dirt parking lot, and the dank smell cow dung clogging up my senses. And I remembered what my indefatigable sense of confidence (aka life through Christa's rose-colored glasses, complete with sound track and movie crew) had removed from my mind: I haven't skated since my 16th birthday party.

Overall, I did pretty well. I moved like a granny, only fell twice, have some serious bruises on my knees, and am kind of addicted. The girls were all really nice and helpful; Fonda Pain had some good tips about my stance and Wicked Sister taught me how to skull. Next week: knee pads and more speed.

I have decided my derby name will be Calamity. Fitting, no?

The Curing Cake or I Really Need A Piece of Chocolate Fudge Cake

Tonight I decided to make a cake.

I think it's a splendid thing to do when you get all riled up. When I get all riled up.

Also, I saw a movie where the gal made a chocolate cake and I really wanted a slice.

I took nigella's chocolate fudge cake and added a Christa twist. I love reading nigella's recipes, she has such a sense of humor. For example, for servings she says "Serves 10 or 1 with a broken heart."

The twist is a banana and walnut custard filling.

Yum!

Sorry you aren't here for a slice!

Tonight driving home, on the side of the road by my house, was a truck full of construction and caution signs, the kind with lights on top, and they were flashing silently, even though there was no one to warn.

Today I actually felt good at my job and more energized at the end of my day than I have been in a long time.

Marcy said she would go to a movie with me tomorrow, I think out of pity. But I will take it. I have been avoiding my home a bit, the solitude. It gets a a little heavy.

Running makes me happy. Today it made me feel free and thankful. Though not yet fast.

I also want to be a chef tonight. I want to have a shop called the Soup Spot and we will serve delicious soup, mini-pies and popsicles in the summer. The walls will be light blue and mint green and there will be wide white trimmed windows that slide open to let in the breeze. There will be a garden in the back. I will wear yellow ribbons in my hair that match my apron. And my face will hurt from smiling.

new obsession: long underwear under long skirts with boots. Hand me a bonnet and send me out the door.

I have had my third night of angry dreams in a row.

The first was a musical dream, where a haphazard ensemble was supposed to play together (one piano, two electric pianos, a saxophone, a drum set, and me, on cello) but no one knew what was going on and there was no time to practice and no one would listen and I was so very ANGRY.

The second took place in my old church's gym and it was Christmas. We were supposed to put on some sort of Nativity/ 12 days of Christmas/ Drummer boy performance but, again, had no time to get ready and no one was listening and it was pure chaos and I was so very ANGRY.

Last night I dreamt that I was living at a homeless shelter and this one girl kept trying to kill me. She was huge and every time she would come for me, I wasn't scared, I just took her down in some of the moves I learned from my child restraining years. I dragged her to the manager's office and calmly explained that I had no reason to hurt her, that her anger was irrational, if she would just tell me what was wrong we could fix the problem. But no, she just kept coming for me and I kept taking her down. She was the angry one in that dream. I was just wearily resigned to continually throwing her on the ground. Like, I would be in the middle of a conversation, she would sneak up on me, I would twist her into a pretzel, and say nonchalantly "Sorry, she is just this girl that keeps trying to kill me."

So, this means I am angry, right?

It is -2 degrees outside and all I want to do is curl up in bed with my book and hot cocoa. But I have a long, long day ahead. And a long day tomorrow. Then I can rest.

cue heart attack, nervous breakdown, and brain implosion

My boss just emailed from his vacation in Costa Rica that he has tons of ideas for the book and he can't wait to get started on it again.

Marcy told me as a joke but then understood from the harrowed desperation in my eyes that I don't think its funny.

She says the book has to sell because its her retirement and that I am the key to making the book sell. I say that I will be a sad little old lady, alone for the rest of my life, doomed to being a ghost writer for other people's stories, never having a story of my own, if this book continues.

Weekend Treats

it is a new year.

I brought it in with Rachel, Annie, and Laura - we had a lovely dinner, full of lively conversation and laughter.

And silly hats.

Then I plunged into the world of sewing. Several trips to fabric stores with Laura and Jessa

(plus yummy food and movies. Sherlock Holmes - predictable yet entertaining)

I made a fairy dress. Yes, I am an adult. But I like fairies. Sue me.

Also scored some wicked sweet Good Will deals. Behold: the new sewing cart for $1.50.

Covered with trendy oil cloth from fancy tiger, thanks to Jessa's handy staple gun. Also, discovered a trench coat

(aka tore it from the mannequin within seconds of being in the store) - I added the flower.

It's very cute, don't be deceived by my poor photography.

An Epic Blog: Boldness has its own genius, power, and magic.

The year of the ox is at a close and let us all hope that the year of the tiger is more forgiving. General prophecies say that it will be a year of love. Let us hope so.

Recap (For those who don’t recall, these are the first lines of each month of the past year):

January: Today has been funny.

February: Today I exercised my divine feminine right to not watch the superbowl.

March: I am sick.

April: Today was my 1 year anniversary at Whole Health.

May: I have found my calling.

June: Amy is coming and I am incredibly excited!

July: So my work day is done and now I can blog guilt free.

August: I am no longer house sitting and am back in the mountain, which I must say feels a little weird.

September: Found the Egg! Phew, what a relief.

October: isn't he just the cutest baby ever? My brother and sister have the most beautiful children!

November: Hello. I have tried to write but all too often I delete what I have said.

December: Okay, so I am shamelessly stealing this idea but what fun!

In terms of resolutions (though as Rachel suggested, it may be better to call them intentions), I have well over a dozen, in my normal mad-hatter, no-holds-barred way of plunging ahead like a three-legged donkey through a swamp. I have been wading through my convictions of late and have found that many of my choices are not sustainable (don’t mind my somewhat hip and green use of this word. But I mean it, as in I cannot possibly continue living in the way I have been. Definition of sustainable: capable of being maintained at a steady level without exhausting natural resources) and are not in the least bit congruent with my professed beliefs. Integrity is so inconvenient at times. Yet I truly believe that I operate with a lighter heart and a greater sense of freedom when all things line up. It is time to plant my feet.

Main Points of Change:

• CSA. I am determined to join a CSA and to volunteer some hours working at the farm as well. My work schedule is the big hiccup, but it will be overcome. I also am leaning toward eliminating meat again and possibly dairy. How can it be that veganism looks so appealing right now? That’s the trouble with reading books. Words and thoughts stick in your mind so that instead of chicken, I see a pile of antibiotic ridden, GMO-fed unhappiness. Unless I know the animal that the food came from, I ain’t eatin’ it. And once you are friends with the animal, how are you going to kill it? (Actually, I have no problem with killing animals for food (I know, I am a villain), but, really, meat is not sustainable in the quantities we eat it and more often than not, it’s just icky).

• Shopping. I am going to stop shopping for new clothes (gasp!). And no new fabric too, though that one hurts even more than no more clothes. Now that I have a sewing machine, I am going to give sustainable fashion my most concentrated effort. So I can remake old things, from thrift stores, but no more therapeutic shopping trips to euthanize the soul. Nothin’ store bought for this urban homesteader.

Summeresolutions:

• Biking to work. It’s going to happen. When there is no more snow.

• Camping/ hiking/ tomfoolery in the woods. Lots of tomfoolery.

Christmas weekend included:

-sliding down icy hills until all that remained of our sleds were bits of plastic strewn across the snow
-watching old school star wars
-eating lots of delicious food a la mama
-sleep
-lovely gifts, including bamboo spoons and a new wool coat
-jammin' with Dan (in love with the Avett bros)
-warm fires, freezing outdoors
-monogramed sunggies (my gift to the fam)
-Thai birthday dinner and a new sewing machine (!!!!!)
-friends
-more sleeping
-more movies
-finishing the poisonwood bible
-family

It's the prettiest pot I ever did see...

I am referring to the Le Creuset dutch oven my boss gave me for Christmas. FREAK OUT PEOPLE! These pots are amazing! I hath coveted them for eons. And it's red. Come over, I'll make you dinner.

Marcy gave me my long distance phone code for the office. Which I had already forgotten at least three times. To help me remember, I converted the numbers into letters, so 2213 became BBAC. Then I sang it to the tune of Beethoven's 5th symphony. Then I realized that BBAC looks like a rhyme scheme for a poem. So I made a new form of poetry. It's called a Christa. Here are the rules:

In addition to the rhyme scheme laid out above, the first and second and fourth lines have 7 syllables (like my first name) and the third line has 5 syllables (like my last name). The subject generally pertains to unexpected death caused by unusual circumstances.

Here are a few examples:

Snow

Everywhere I look is snow
I don't know which way to go
I think I am lost
I suspect wolves will eat me

This poem slightly bends the rules of a Christa because the death is not quite unexpected. Here is another, more classic example of a Christa:

Girl

She wears long and flowing sleeves
The wind grabs them as she leaves
She flies up so high
and plummets to the ground, Smoosh!

Now you try. Everyone can write a Christa.

I have no food and am sustaining myself of nuts, berries, clementines, and a loaf of pumpkin bread someone brought to the office. Thank goodness for the generous kindess of baking individuals and co-workers.

My hummus container and cracker box matched today. Weird, huh?

I am stuck in this city and I belong in a field...

Um, okay so my advent calender failed miserably. I tried, right?

This weekend I:

Slipped on ice while talking on my cell phone and fell to the ground.

Was coerced by Persian Kiosk Lady to buy something expensive and ridiculous that I will never use (Her words: "You tell someone about the deal I give you, I kill you, I kill you!" How do you not buy her product when she is threatening your life?).

Made tons of healthy cookies, none of which taste any good, for my co-workers.

Found something I hadn't realized I had lost.

Played with little kitty Mia.

Had breakfast with Annie and Rachel in Boulder.

Watched BBC's new Sense and Sensibility mini-series, entertaining as ever.

Made up a limerick about my lunch experience in a restaurant:

I was eating soup from my bowl
When suddenly, I lost control
Away the soup flew
And my water glass too
I have the grace of a Troll

Counting down the hours until my next weekend!

12/8/09 Bed Buddies

Sometimes when I imagined snow growing up, I had images like this in my head:























All romantic and lovely and beautiful...and warm (fake stage snow is not cold, no matter how realistic it looks).


These pictures are a more accurate depiction of my current snow sentiment.





















Imagined monologue with mother earth:

Hey, Ma! Can I call you Ma? No, oh sorry, no disrespect meant at all, I have just always felt like we were so close. Oh, you saw that, huh? Well, I meant to recycle that can. I just get really grossed out by old food and the spaghetti sauce smelled weird and I just threw it out. That hurt you? Like, physically? I'm sorry. I really am, I will do better. Bike to work? No, I don't. But, that's actually what I wanted to talk about. I would love to bike to work, its just, like, negative 10 outside. Oh, wow, you know all the exact temperatures. Okay, so I exaggerated a little. How cold is it? Zero. Right. So, about that. I really, really would love to bike to work but when its that cold, I just don't think its possible. I would lose fingers. It feels like you are losing fingers when I don't recycle my cans? I guess you have a point there. But, couldn't we compromise a little? I feel like I could bike to work if it were, say 40 degrees out and sunny. What can I give in exchange? That's how you operate, huh? I kind of imagined you a little more benevolent. No, no I am definitely not saying that I think you are rude, I just figured you would be a little more understanding of my predicament, I mean its pretty harsh out there. No, no, no you are most certainly not, uh, harsh. You are lovely. I really admire those twirly things in your hair. Vines, huh? Interesting. No, really, interesting in a good way. Crap. You aren't going to warm it up are you? Yeah, I thought so. Count the next blizzard as a special gift to me personally? Thanks, thanks a lot.

12/7/09 Snowflakes

Last Friday night I watched "Big Country" - my favorite western - and cut out tons of snowflakes. I taped them up all over the ceiling and it is beautiful!

Christa's Holiday Advent Calendar

Okay, so I am shamelessly stealing this idea but what fun! The theme for this advent calendar, you ask? Stuff in my apartment. I will use my last post for my first picture despite the fact I, unfortunately, do not have a roller coaster in my apartment. Thankfully black and white photography lends a facade of chic, though, lets be honest, who really cares about any of this anyway. Ah, but how it amuses! Me, it amuses me.
Forgive me, I can never make the photos and captions line up properly. Maybe they do on your computer, but if not, just imagine you are watching Singing in the Rain- no,no,no! yes, yes, yes! no,no,no! yes, yes, yes!

12/2/09 I don't know these people, but their picture is on my wall.


12/3/09 Teapot and owl.


12/4/09 My favorite cowboy statue, from grandma.


12/5/09 My handcrafted bird mobile which is still suffering from the move.


12/6/09 It is 11 degrees outside but so warm inside.

the wind in your hair

I am in Charlotte, waiting for phone calls that beckon me to see friends. I had a stupendous flight over here, due to the fact I forgot my driver's license AND my phone. Sometimes even I run out of patience with myself. Thankfully, my roommate overnighted my license so the trip home should be a bit less eventful, though I know I shall face the wrath of my employer for spending time with family. Oops. Even now I am tempted to bust out my work and shift through it but that is really so very depressing. What is my life? is the common question that rises to the surface of my tumultuous thoughts.

Also strange, I had a weird allergic reaction where my eyes became very itchy and swollen. Awkward and so very charming. Another bit of evidence that I deserve my own sitcom because life never fails to surprise and entertain me.

Thanksgiving was lovely, lots of food and family and a new game of pumpkin football. The family game of football proved that we are all cheaters, shamelessly stealing the ball and creating our own rules. I am still amused about my attempt to hide the football in the mailbox while the other team was in a huddle. My crew lost two to one, but that was only after Aunt Theresa defected to go make the green bean casserole, leaving us a player short. We were in the lead until then. We also went to the Charlotte parade, which left me strangely enchanted with marching bands, which, I was told, was mainly due to the fact I have never been in one. I guess I really just like people moving in unison, I feel the same way about musicals and troops on the drill field.

I leave for Denver tomorrow, still lacking in sleep.

Hello. I have tried to write but all too often I delete what I have said.

A funny thing happens just when you think you couldn't possible get any busier- you get busier and look back at your former life and wonder what you did with all that free time.

I have to wake up in approximately three hours and I can't sleep. I am tempted to just go to the gym or something, just to use this time productively.

I feel like there is a secret demerit system at work - you are constantly losing points arbitrarily based on the Boss's mood. It kind of stinks.

To lighten the mood at work, which has become increasingly depressed, I have instituted a few new Christa Specials. There is the "Dance Move Of The Day," which I am always willing to demonstrate. I also provide "Guess What Song Is In My Head Now" or "Tuneless Humming While I Concentrate On Some Inane Task," not to mention "Fake Fainting." "Fake Fainting" is my favorite way to pass time but it does require some skill and awareness. You cannot just fling your body onto the ground willy-nilly. You have to make sure there are no sharp corners or innocent bystanders to fall on. Its also prudent to fake faint in front of people who won't try to catch you because, really, it just destroys the effect. Unless the catcher is particularly attractive, but then we are talking about a completely different type of game.

You know how when you are around folks all the time, you begin to pick up their lingo? Well, I have picked up "oh dear" from Andrea while she picked up "my head is going to explode" from me. Charming, ain't I?

I have finished my nutrition certification. My last book was called "Your Health, Your Choice" and I have uncovered a conspiracy. There are a suspicious number of typos in this book and they have enough consistency that I immediately suspected a secret code. The typos are as follows:

exe4rcise, qualiti8es, w3ell, buf7fer, demoli1sh, d9airy, saliv1a, adaptations2, functio5n, bac3teria

I took the numbers and correlated them to the appropriate letters of the alphabet and got:

D H C G A I A B E C

which clearly means:

Don't Hate Chocolate Ganache - Avoid Irritating Acupuncturists - Be Extraordinary Christa

I should be a detective or a spy. Obviously I have a talent for decoding.


(I want everyone to know I deliberated over my commas and I am sorry if they are incorrect, cause in the end, I just don't care)

Howdy, Stranger.

There comes a certain carefree willingness to accept any invitation, a willingness
that may easily be confused with self-confidence and extroversion, when one has been alone for too long. That desperation tinged "I'll Come!" and the sweet relief as I leave my apartment to mingle with fellow humans (especially given the "Cat Lady" description is still a little too close for comfort as I spend an inordinate amount of time watching BBC mini-series, knitting, and stroking my roommates two gray cats (she is often gone hanging out with her boyfriend, like a normal twenty-something)) is not unfamiliar. I am definitely comfortable and unashamed of spending time by myself, no longer creeping into the movie theater on a Saturday night pretending I am meeting someone inside. No, I hold my head up high, look the pimply teen locked in the movie theater box office in the eye and boldly say, "One ticket, please." But, still, there is something nice when I really am meeting someone, not just my imaginary friends.

But this fear-based boldness ( aka 'if I don't leave my apartment I really will die here') can open new doors. I have recently amplified my quest for community and, last night, was calling a life group leader of the church I have been attending, to ask if the said group was actually meeting. Alas, said the kindly voice on the other end of the line, the group was not yet formed and may not start meeting til the new year. 'Ah, okay,' I reply, trying not to let my disappointment leak through. I hang up and am about to press play to restart 'The History of Tom Jones' when Eliza (the group leader, who has an inexplicably cool name) calls back. 'Hey, we are having some friends over for dinner, why don't you come?' she begins and before she can say 'green-chili enchiladas' I am on the road. What followed was a friendly, if slightly awkward, evening of enchiladas, cake, and Scattegories. I don't know if they will ever realize how much that simple act of kindness meant to me.

My brothers and I have made a pact to run a half marathon together in March. I am so excited. The pavement of VA has no idea what destruction we will leave in our wake, the Three Oakes, runners extraordinaire. I wonder if my brother's will object to matching capes?

Also, it snowed lots this week and some apartment photos. Behold, the-greatest-bargan-couch-ever!





Snow Ninja Stance!

Okay- when we say there is lots of snow, believe me that we are talking in feet now. My car has a snow afro and as I drove through starbucks for an indulgent everyone-else-is-home-but-my-office-doesn't-close mocha, the drive-through guy made a snowball from the excess snow I am carting around on my roof. You know, I am saving it for later. Hopefully we will close early and I will go make a snow dragon somewhere. For now, it is quiet in the clinic and I get to play catch up and drink lots of tea. And Shu is making us delicious soup! Huzzah for snow days!

My message from the Universe for today:

Now let me get this straight, Christa: You want things that you don't yet have, people in your life who you don't yet know, and events to take place that haven't yet occurred, so that once these "things" come to pass you'll feel happy, confident, and fulfilled; accomplished, desired, and appreciated; treasured, adored, and like one bad mamma jama, a beautiful sight to see?

But... wasn't that your rationale for all the other stuff you wanted, that you now have?
Whooohoooooooo!
The Universe

It is a snowy blizzard out! Snow everywhere!

Me and Baby Amos Gray...what a sweetie!

I forgot to mention (this is classic) that I totally filled my apartment with smoke during the tea party. My spinach tart overflowed from the spring form pan and next thing you know I am smiling and fanning smoke out the windows with a cookie sheet, assuring my guests that there is no need for alarm. Sigh...I am part domestic goddess and part fire hazard.

I just made a foil ball for Andrea's kitty, the best cat toy ever. Liver (the cat, derivative from Olivia and an adequate description of her grumpy disposition...and what she likes to eat.) Hopefully the toy will keep her from attacking me.

Yesterday, while runnning lovely Saturday morning errands to get bittersweet chocolate and extra tea pots for my "Hey-I-have-an-awesome-new-pad" Tea Party, I stumbled across a garage sale with the most terrific stash of goodies. Andrea and I had finally cleared away the boxes and were left with a quite large living room with nothing in it. The original plan was to bring a couch down from the mountain house but loe and behold, it is the size of a tanker and weighs more than a team of sumo wrestlers. (okay, really, it is about 70 inches long, a common length for a love seat. And I don't think sumo wrestlers have teams. Whatever.) Since Mom and I had already collapsed in my apartment stairwell several times, in a fit of giggles and hysteria, while trying drag some piece of furniture or another up to the place, I decided to oly move furniture I could carry up by myself. But...Saturaday morning I found this amazing white couch for 20 bucks- I stuffed most of it my car (driving down the road with my trunk open), my mom got the rest and we hauled it upstairs and rearranged the living room. Okay, but why am I most likely boring you with this story about my decorating exploits? Because the couch is amazing and I got it for 20 bucks! Come over, really, you can sit on it, it doesn't even smell or anything. But the real point is the the apartment now looks like a home.

Its going to snow again. I am sipping tea, reading cookbooks, and lying on the floor. Soon I will go to Jessa's and make aprons and hopefully watch friends.

The end.

I was driving up to the mountain house this evening and there was an accident on the road and tons of cops. But when I passed, all I saw was a motorcycle on the road. Not a good sign.

A bear broke into my grandmother's truck and ransacked it. One of the boxes with giant bear claws in it is sitting in our living room.

I have retreated to the mountain house for an evening of the familiar. I needed something not new for a while.

I ran my half-marathon today and it was amazing. Painful (the last four miles especially) but amazing. Runners in spandex leaked out from the city, converging on one spot, having paid a large sum of money to wake up before dawn and run with thousands of other people. I liked that I didn't have to think about anything, how many miles I had gone or how many I had left to go, where to get water or anything, except running. My first 6 miles were easy but things were getting tired by 8. But I finished! I can't walk now, but I finished. My time was good too (for me), 2 hours and 39 minutes. I think I would've made 2 hrs, 30 mins if I hadn't taken that bathroom break on mile 7. :-D It was fun. The rest of my day I have spent napping, reading young adult fiction, watching teen movies, and sitting. I like sitting.

I slammed my finger in the door of moon.

This is Christa reporting live from her new location, 1116 W Lilley Ave Apt. 307 Litttleton, CO 80120. Never fear, she is just as Brave and Boisterous, Curious and Creative, Lovely and Loquacious as she was in her previous high altitude location.


This has been the most exhausting three weeks of my life, without a doubt. When I have time to slow down I drop into a sleepy coma until I am forced to revive and face the world again. Last night, bed time = 8:30 pm. That, my friends, is a beautiful thing.

My half marathon is this weekend and my training (after glorious consistency) has faded away into the occasional three mile run over the past two weeks. I will run it regardless, but anticipate a rather painful morning.

I am at work, getting secret satisfaction by blogging when I am at work. But it is 7:30 in the morning on my day off. And I am at work. Thus I blog.

Oh, second night in my apartment, I almost burn it down. It's a familiar story for me. I went to bed with a sweet potato still in the oven. Oops. I have baptised my new place with the sickly sweet smoke of charred sweet potato. Thankfully there wasn't too much smoke that I couldn't dissipate with the rapid waving of my arms. Also, none of my neighbors were disturbed by the smoke alarm, since I had taken out the battery the night before because it was beeping so annoyingly.

Letter to my new roommate:

Dear Roommate,

I am a brilliant and intelligent woman. However, sometimes I may:

leave my keys in the door for indefinite periods of time
leave the windows open when its snowing
forget to turn off the stove
leave food in the hot oven overnight
drop large, clattering objects in the early hours of the morning
inadvertently flood the bathroom
warble loudly
keep the donkey statue my grandma gave me and insist it sits on our kitchen table
make teapot cozies with bunny ears

Please do not hold these things against me. It's genetic.

Love,
Christa

Okay, But Really...

isn't he just the cutest baby ever? My brother and sister have the most beautiful children!

Ant

My vowels are on revolt.

Meet Liam.

The Snuggie is Everywhere!

I think I am going to paint my new apartment a color called deep snuggle.

Thats all I got.

Work is a four letter word

A quick doodle before I head to work. Kids, I know this story gets old but I can't help but tell it, its seems to be the only one I know. Work. All the time. I get really grumpy about it, especially when it feels like there is this silent expectation that I should work all weekend every weekend. And I am SO TIRED. We have gone beyond burning the candle at both ends and plunged into naked flame being sustained by any flammable material I can get my hands on. Preferably coffee. (Okay, I know coffee isn't flammable). I think the worst part is, the work-all-the-time expectation is at least 75% self-imposed. I hate feeling like I am not doing as much as everyone else. It's the worst representation of over-competitiveness in my life right now. I am plagued with guilt if I am not the last on to leave work and the first to arrive. Which is impossible since to keep up since apparently I am trying to start a fire with coffee. When will that ever work.

Also discouraging, I keep going in for acupuncture to keep this ship from crashing in the sandy shores of hysteria and they keep telling me the same thing. Sigh, I know I am tired, but how can I stop working when there is no one else to do the work. I keep calling meetings to make sure I am getting all my stuff done and now Marcy and Andrea just laugh at me. Sigh. Nothing new.

Rachel sent me this lovely bit of writing, which has been stewing in my brain all week.

"We who have lost our sense and our sense - our touch, our smell, our vision of who we are, we who frantically force and press all things, without rest for body or spirit, hurting our earth and injuring ourselves: we call a halt.

We want to rest. We need to rest and allow the earth to rest. We need to reflect and to rediscover the mystery that lives in us, that is the ground of every unique expression of life, the source of the fascination that calls all things to communion.

We declare a Sabbath, a space of quiet: for simply being and letting be; for recovering the great, forgotten truths' for learning how to live again."



Other things:
- Last trip to NC was delightful.
- Contra dancing, also so much fun. I wore a twirly skirt specifically for the occasion but it turned out to be too twirly and I am pretty sure everyone there got a glimpse of my unmentionables. Especially when that guy twirled me right in front of the giant fan which caught my exuberant skirt and flung its hem skyward. Hehe- awkward.
- Finally bought new running shoes,which were way, way over due and they are fantastic and Carolina blue. My feet are much happier.
- Did a long run of 7 miles last weekend (the last 1/2 mile felt like 4) to great success. Ran on a lonely mountain road where, as I ran, I concocted a complete screenplay called "The Runner" in which a girl and her mother get kidnapped by back-country crazies while on a run on a lonely mountain road. The mother saves the day and there is a great scene where a mother-daughter can of whoop-ass gets busted wide open. Thankfully none of this really occurred (though there could be no fiercer team than me and my mother) but my mom did drive behind me the whole run after some kayakers told her a story of women recently being attacked on a lonely mountain road (a different one than ours). Isn't she great?
-First snow on September 21st. That is kind of sad.
-Move clinic next weekend and move into my apartment the one after that. Next Saturday with Nothing To Do: Somewhere half-way through November.

Raggamuffin Day

I know I washed my hair today, but I don't know what with. I have concluded that it definitely wasn't shampoo. Maybe face wash.

It's cold and rainy.

My sweater had a hole in it, but I sewed it up before work only to discover at work that my shoe is also sporting a hole (see above note about the weather, most unfortunate for holy shoes- I can't walk on water) And the sole just came off my shoe as well.

That's what kind of day I am having.

defenestrate, nefarious, diaphanous, loquacious, clavicle, lilt, elixir, furtive, gambol, mellifluous, woebegone, lithe

words I like.

Found the Egg! Phew, what a relief.

i am house sitting/ kitty sitting for a friend in town and having a lovely time. She lives only five blocks from gorgeous wash park and I am even in walking distance from the Decker-Smiths (okay its kind of a long haul, but do-able) I am going to spend this entire weekend 1. Not at work (first Saturday not working at work or on the book since April) 2. Not in my car. I will not drive anywhere! There are coffee shops, grocery stores, parks, and people all in locomotive distance. This long weekend is coming just in time because I am pretty sure all my peeps at Whole Health are having stress induced breakdowns. We all need to chillax.

The kitty woke me up at 6 this morning to play fetch, kind of cute, kind of not. And there is some serious construction going on. I don't know how people live feeling so visible to the outside world in their home. While cooking my breakfast I looked out the window and got a nice wave from the Hispanic worker smoking next door. Hi. If the window had been open, I could have shook his hand.

I am finish up my yummy breakfast and then I am going to explore!

I still haven't found my egg...should've asked the psychic.

Work reached a new low this week....

when, to pass the time, we changed the words of the song “Sugar, Sugar” by the Archies to “Seaweed. Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum. Oh, Spirulina. Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum Bum. You are my healthy snack and I’m lovin’ you.”


I’ve had a fascinating experience. As much as I may complain, I love the people I work with. I have had more growing and enlightening (and painful) experiences this past year and a half than I can recount. Everyone is so fiercely and apologetically themselves, from gun-touting-moon-daughter-wants-to-be-a-mermaid Troy, existentialist-astronomer-psychic Kindra, and kitty-loving-pacifist-south-park-junkie Heidi to second-mother-funniest-most-lovable-lady-I-know Marcy and horse-and-kitty-loving-disc-tossing-bad-ass-Andy-who-goes-by-Andrea-at-work-soon-to-be-my-roommate (not to mention entrepreneur-ski-and-scuba-Chinese-man-trapped-in-the-body-of-an-Irish-Catholic Paul and generous-gift-giving-bipolar-wears-lots-of-tinkling-chime-jewelry Linda). I have more stories than I can tell in my lifetime. Okay, well, give me four hours of your undivided attention and I can eloquently retell the past two years of my life, complete with dramatization and interpretive dance.

But yesterday may have taken the cake.

Last April Paul told me he wanted me to make an appointment with N. Keith Sheldonport. I had no information to go on except that Paul said it would be very beneficial and could change my life. Always game for a life changing experience, I made an appointment. The man is so freakin’ popular I made an appointment in April for his first available spot, which happened to be yesterday, August 27th. It was only when I walked into his office and he explained what he did that I realized this was not some life-coach or astronomer but a psychic. Frankly, I absolutely believe that certain people are gifted with the ability to tap into spiritual realms that may elude the common pedestrian, but never have I wanted or even contemplated seeking such a gifted individual out to lift the foggy veil of my future. So, I found myself awkwardly couched in his office, which was decorated in calming peach tones and sea shells (very myrtle beach in the 80s), contemplating if I should ride this out or escape with my Bible corroborated foundations that psychics are to be avoided. Alas, I stayed true to form and took the path of least resistance (and perhaps least character? Eh, I won’t think to hard about it. I really don’t believe my soul is in mortal danger.) and stayed put. And, honestly, I was fascinated and intrigued. I will not regale you the intimate details of my projected future (I have a freakin’ awesome one. I also was told details about my parents and brother’s projected futures. But I will not tell you, Danny, as much as you may want to know.) but to say that he knew dates, ages, people, words I have said, my beliefs about life in general, and it was mesmerizing. (Also really funny, after he would tell me something positive about my future, he would say “so, good for you.” And after something potentially trying or difficult, “so, good luck with that.” I am still processing it all and finding myself thinking of the Matrix A LOT (Do his words and how they shape my actions create the future or is the future firmly and irrevocably in place regardless of what anyone says or does? What is the time-space continuum? He talked a lot about re-incarnation, angels, and auras, most of which I am dubious about. He said my angel, and I quote, wanted him “to gentle push [me] to put [myself] out there in the dating world.” I assume, of course, this angel is my mother. He also told me the projected timeline in which I will fall in love and that I have not met the man of my dreams yet. It is encouraging to know that I will, at some point, meet this person and fall madly and devastatingly in love. I always wrote this ending for myself and have always doubted whether or not it will actually happen).

Final conclusions that I will take away from this:
1. I will forget everything he told me (to the best of my ability) except for the affirmation that I am empowered to live my life any way I want to. I can be anything and do anything. I am loved and have nothing to fear.

2. The whole experience gave me hope, which in turn made me contemplate my faith. Interesting that some vague yet concrete postulating about my future gave me so much hope for myself. I also found it affirming of my faith, to think that the spiritual world is closer and more real than we may suppose and that I can commit my future to God and no matter what happens everything will be okay (not ‘okay’ in the sense of things always going well, but ‘okay’ in the sense that God is always with us.) My hope is in God, not in the words of this man. Life is short and to be lived to the fullest and we have no way of knowing what exactly is beyond this life. I love thinking about a God and Universe that I cannot ever fully fathom. I question every now and then the influence of the new-agey culture I now find myself immersed in (I could very well be becoming a heretical, universalism moon-child), but I know that I am seeking God to the best of my ability, I am growing, and changing, and that is all I can do. My faith in the past has been very much constructed of worrying about if I am good enough, if I am doing enough, and, even more importantly, does it look like I am faithful. My motivation was less about seeking God and more about appearing to seek God. I am now trying to live honestly and fearlessly, asking my questions without concern of how it may make me look to others.

3. I know he was a real psychic because when I asked what I owed him for his time, his fee was exactly the amount of cash I had I my wallet. Well done, sir, well done.

Enough philosophical/metaphysical crap, you really must not take anything I say seriously. On to something much more revealing and entertaining.

I-pod Russian roulette. You know, where you go to i-pod shuffle and write down each song that comes up in response to the queries or statements? Highly entertaining past time.

If someone says, "Are you okay?", you say:
“Take it Down” (Wailin’ Jennys)

How would you describe yourself?
" The Evergreen” (Norfolk and Western)
love it

What do you like in a guy/girl?
“Thorn” (Bain Mattox)

How do you feel today?
Suite for solo cello no 4 in E flat major performed by Yo Yo Ma
This makes me smile

What is your life's purpose?
“The Boxer” (Simon and Garfunkel)
You have no idea…

What's your motto?
“Hold On” (Shawn McDonald)
appropriate

What do your friends think of you?
“American Woman” (Lenny Kravitz)
Ha!

What do your parents think of you?
“Selfless, Cold, and Composed” (Ben Folds)


What do you think about very often?
“Highway 61 revisted” (Bob Dylan)


What is 2 + 2?
"When in Rome " (Nickel Creek)


What do you think of your best friend?
“Here and Now” (Great Big Sea)

What is your life story?
"Walkin Down the Line” (Bob Dylan)

What do you want to be when you grow up?
“This World” (Derek Webb)


What do you think when you see the person you like?
“Just wait” (Blues Traveler)

What will you dance to at your wedding?
“Bang Bang, My Baby Shot Me Down” (Nancy Sinatra)
Hilarious!

What will they play at your funeral?
"I am a Rock” Simon and Garfunkel
Amen

What is your hobby/interest?
“ A Quarter Past Wonderful” (Oren Lavie)
It’s true

What is your biggest fear?
"Whiner’s Bio" (Mates of State)

What is your biggest secret?
"I am Aglow" (Sarah Harmer)
also true

What do you want right now?
"You’re an Angel and I’m Gonna Cry" (Chris Thile)

As I leave work most days I feel
1. exhausted
2. anchor-less
3. searching for humans

I mean, I am with people all day but, as Rach said, there is a difference between looking and seeing and I just want be seen at some point in my day. But this is dangerous as well. Someone commented, thoughfully, that I looked happy and it almost made me cry. I am not sure why and am a little uneasy about it all.

Sometimes, at solemn occasions, like in church or the symphony, when everyone is whispering, intently listening, and very, very quiet, I want to scream at the top of my lungs.

I also enjoy the thought of throwing myself to the ground in a fit of hysteria while at work.

I lost my egg...

somewhere between my refrigerator and my work desk. I grabbed the hard-boiled snack as I dashed out the door, late as usual. I went to an early meeting, checked out the new clinic, and then arrived, finally at work. I began putting my lunch and celery into the fridge when I discovered my egg had disappeared! In search of suspects, I googled "Animals that steal eggs" (you never know what kind of thieving critters may be around) and came across this. Aha! The culprits! Alas, there were no stones in my bag either. What does this mean? I have full confidence that the egg will reveal itself in due course. (Does anyone remember the sweet potato incident of freshman year? A tragedy.)

Andrea and I have been on the hunt for apartments and have settled on a sweet little abode near downtown Littleton. Humble and cheap it is but I have great plans for decorating. Andrea and I make a great team. She is in charge of the practical things, like the name of the apartment building and its location and I am in charge of aesthetics.

I am glad we are moving because the cabinetry in our current office is getting a little fresh. I was leaning against a cherry cabinet behind the front desk, chatting with Marcy this afternoon when I felt a little pinch. As I moved away from the cabinet, I felt the sharp snap of elastic against skin. The cabinet had, apparently, felt neglected during my discussion with Marcy (the topic was none of his concern) and, in an attempt to get my attention, grabbed my underwear through my skirt and pulled the elastic tight before releasing it in demonic pleasure. The rogue! I slammed him quite hard to let him know my sentiments. Cabinets who cannot learn to keep their knobs to themselves have to right to expect kind treatment in return.

Our book did not win the contest. There is some discouragement among the masses but it has been determined we will soldier on...indefinitely? Yeesh, I am bent in two under the weight of this silly book.

Did you know that Sylvia Plath loved to pick her nose? I love this line-

"No longer do I listen for the scrape of a keel
On the blank stones of the landing."

ironic: I begin to iron my skirt in an attempt to look pulled together today, but I promptly burned a hole in my skirt and wore it anyway.

People! I am exhausted! What do you want from me! I am having one of my crazy work weeks where sleep is not an option and I am at the clinic every waking hour. Here is my Saturday, for your amusement, and then I will complain no more.

6:30-11:00 -> Health Fair
11:00-2:00 -> Working on the book
2:00-3:00 -> Teaching a class at Whole Foods

This wouldn't be so bad, except that, again, this is my day off and I have already worked 50 hours this week.

But I have decided that its really not that bad. There could be a whole lot more worse things (a whole lot more worse...that's right, I am leaving it that way), like no job, no home, no nothing.

On that note, I decided I don't need a 365 day project (see previous post on Julie/Julia project). I have been contemplating activities from learning and memorizing all the Bach unaccompanied cello suites in a year (that would work out to some ridiculous amount of time per piece, like, two days), mastering roller derby, becoming a flamenco dancer, writing a cookbook, or making all my clothes for a year(minor rules would apply here, like I could purchase cloth or clothes from thrift stores but not exceeding ten dollars a month. Items found or received as gifts (but not anything new) could also be used). Then I realized what I really need for a year long project is nothing. 365 days of doing absolutely nothing. That would probably make me a much better person.

Current Projects:
Writing 1 novel
CNC certification (overdue by 5 months)
Not killing my plants (four dead, three living)
Half-Marathon October 18th (2 weeks behind schedule)
Various sewing projects (two dresses, 4 aprons, 1 pair of baby booties)
Survival

Incredible.

compliments of Jon Davis.

I am no longer house sitting and am back in the mountain, which I must say feels a little weird. I will miss walking Tiny. When accompanied by a small, cute dog one invites friendly conversation and little children approach you begging to pet the little dear. One kid told me that Chiwawas are the king of dogs (Tiny, though diminutive, is not a Chiwawa). Another kid talked to me for ten minutes, uninterrupted, about Werewolves. Some people are scared of 'em but not him, no sir. He could handle a Werewolf any day. I thought this was excellent information and vowed to call for the kid's help if any such full moon emergency were to arise.

I went to pick up Amy from Breckenridge this past weekend and we had a lovely time. I love La Mer by Debussy. I had images of the Swiss Family Robinson dancing through my head.

I was trying to express to Amy while en route to see Julie and Julia that some book to movie translations make me really nervous. This fear of the movie being inadequate generally has little to do with the quality of the book. I had no such fear with Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter or Brideshead Revisited or Pride and Prejudice. But Julie and Julia and Twilight made me very anxious. Amy astutely pointed out that this is because the characters of these latter novels are ones that I probably relate to more, or feel a stronger connection to - for example, Julie is a walking disaster, constantly getting herself into humorous and impatient messes and Bella has a similar aptitude for clumsiness and self-deprecating wit. I could play these parts. Interesting. (This conclusion was further emphasized with the on-screen Julie said "Sometimes I have conversations with Julia in my head." Definitely something I would do and say.)

A few more thoughts about Julie and Julia:
1. Read the book
2. Watching Meryl Strep as Julia Child was amazing and made me want to live with unbounded joy and wild abandon.
3. I want to take on a project for a year, a challenge for me to accomplish and triumph over. I have decided that it will be something with my cello since my cello is the last major stronghold of insecurity in my life. I thought maybe I could learn and memorize all the Bach Unaccompanied Suites in a year. But I think this may be a little ambitious. Suggestions would be great. This may be an unoriginal idea but all the same, inspired.

I love Star Wars.

I love NPR. I mean, it is truly my favorite thing to listen to. Check this out. I am overflowing with amusement.

Unfortunately, my car seems unable to pick it up anymore. It seems every time I take my car in for repairs, I loose channels. Before I took my car in this last time I was still able to pick up a fuzzy but often listenable signal for our local NPR channel. But upon getting my car back this time, all my radio settings were erased and now I can only get easy listening, classics, and a Spanish channel. BOOOOOO! Give me NPR or give me...well, death is a little extreme for a radio station, so lets just say, give me NPR.

One of my co-workers is meticulous about punctuation and grammar and I am, well, not, as is displayed by my haphazard use of commas, over-use of exclamation marks, and general lack of attention to detail. I have to admit, I hate that I don't use better grammar but am caught in my own paradoxical black hole - I am horribly impatient and have trouble committing myself to learning something I don't understand instantly. Like grammar and driving a stick shift. I know, I know, I am a literary neanderthal and beware encountering me on the road.

As you know, my work provides many opportunities for interesting situations I would never other wise experience. For example, we are moving to a new clinic and one of our patients is a Shaman and offered to bless the clinic for us (Bless it or cleanse it or clear it or something). Anyway, she wants to do a special cleansing before the big cleansing and she needs three additional people to help 'hold the space.' And, apparently, I have good energy and she wants me to participate in this unknown ritual. Kind of fascinating, isn't it? I am highly flattered that I have good energy. I am often worried at work about how my aura is looking. Its quite exhausting, to maintain physical health AND the appearance of health in the spiritual realms that have importance in my work place that I have no comprehension of.

Only in my world...

I drive up to Phoebe's house this evening, talking to my mom on the phone, who is patiently listening to me complain the things that seem hard in my life yet are a result of my own choices. (The enjoyment of complaining is greatly reduced when halfway through your tirade you have an enlightening dose of reality that your life, if we were to be honest (let's, its so refreshing), isn't nearly as bad as you like to pretend, yet you still feel the need to be a brat and bitch. This is beside the point.) So, I walk to the door, phone to ear, and I am astounded to find, much to the dog's dismay, that I cannot open the door. It would seem that when I locked the door this morning, the key on the other side some how shifted in the lock and is refusing to budge. Tiny, the dog, begins howling in dismay, for she has been shut up all day and really, really has to go to the bathroom. I, self-righteously indignant and exclaiming to the heavens "Here, here is the evidence that nothing ever goes right!", call Phoebe's sister to see if she has a key to the front door. She, dear and lovely woman that she is, rushes over to see if any of her keys will fit, which they do not. Tiny howls grow to a fevered pitch as she realizes we are loitering on the porch and not attending to her ever pressing needs. She claws at the glass door, yelping for attention and a fire hydrant. It is suggested we call a locksmith. I realize that I left the upstairs window open and wonder aloud if we could climb up there. Cyndi (Phoebe's sister) comments that it is unlikely since her son is unavailable to help. That seals the deal for me- anything he can do I can do better. "Cyndi, I have every intention of climbing up there myself," I inform her. (My actual words, as I began to climb the fence, were more along the lines of "Am I an idiot for attempting this? Please inform me now before I break my neck.") I pitch off my fancy flats and hike up my skirt and begin the climb. (Please refer to the diagram).



I hop up the fence, shimmy between the porch overhang and carport roof and then climb atop of the porch roof. I then walk very carefully along the plastic porch roof, making sure to walk along the supports so I don't fall through the roof. Once at the window, I tried to bust it open with no success. Cyndi tosses an ice scraper from her car up to the roof, but it lands on the edge, about three precarious feet from where I stood, clinging to the side of the house. I edged my way across the roof, listening to the crackling sound of doom (or what I imagine the roof breaking sounds like). I just manage to snag the ice scraper and then use it to rip open the screen. I roll/fall into the room and rush downstairs to open the door and release the pup. Huzzah, success! Suddenly my bad mood had vanished and Tiny and I set out for a lovely evening walk, as I rubbed screen splinters from my shin. To those contemplating a life of crime, do not wear sun dresses for breaking and entering. Not only is it immodest, it can cause unnecessary injury, such as splinters.

The end.


(Do you know how nice it is to click spell check and find that there are no misspellings. It is highly enjoyable.)

I love to laugh...

probably too much. One strives for that perfect balance between being easily amused and not being ridiculous. That being said, lately my life has been pretty ridiculous.

Bats in my house. For real people, bats. I am house sitting for a friend's aunt and so have not been at the mountain house to deal with the bat situation properly. I came up with a brilliant plan to open the windows and turn on all the lights, to drive the bats (the actually number of bats is unknown, there were many flurried sightings)into the dark night. This plan resulted with the bats being joined in the house by 1,000,000 moths. Excellent.

But this story has a sad ending. I went to the house yesterday afternoon to escape the city (who knew that mountain living would make the bustle of the city, neighbors, and cars somewhat unbearable. There is no silence!) and while puttering around the house sewing, I found a little dead bat. It was really sad. It was so small and so sweet looking, its little black wings withered and curled up around itself. I buried it and was depressed I could not save it in time.

I was working on the book this morning with Paul and Sherm. Shu, the most amazing cook ever, whipped up some scallion pancakes (unspeakably delicious). She placed the pancakes and the dipping in sauce in front of me and well out of Paul and Sherm's reach. Paul did, in fact, reach for the plate, scooting it closer to him and snagging one of the pancakes. I brought the sauce closer to him so he could enjoy that too. Shu, however, saw him snacking and said, "No! This is for her, not for you. You had rice already, you eat later." Paul sheepishly finished his pancake as Shu moved the plate and sauce, again, closer to me and out of his reach. A little bit later I offered Sherm a pancake, feeling bad that Shu had decided I was the only one allowed to eat. Shu returned again, now hovering closeby as she had discovered I had a tendency to give away my pancakes, to chide Sherm, return the plate to my place. It was fascinating. I still don't really know what happened. (Shu did make Sherm pancakes later and I can only assume she made Paul an elaborate lunch that she didn't want him to spoil his appetite for.)

This past week a solar eclipse occurred and we transitioned from summer to late summer. (In Chinese medicine there are five seasons, late summer being the added category). Apparently this causes the metaphysical poo to hit the metaphysical fan, because all of our patients are undergoing serious trauma. At least, this is what some practitioners are attributing the trauma to. The last week has brought us suicides (yes, more than one), family crisis that make you want to weep, patients slowly fading from their debilitating illnesses, and so much more. I was looking for a sympathy card for someone that was kind to me in a small way who recently met with an unexpected death in their family. None of the tailored words or poetic condolences could possible ease the sadness they are going through. It made me feel sick. I know such cards are not suppose to stem the tide of grief in any real way, but it seems like such a pathetic token to offer. I want to scoop everyone up and make it all better. Alas, my arms simply aren't big enough.