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