Apartment re-Warming

All summer I've been fantasizing about moving. I've been obsessively scouring Craigslist, looking at apartments that want to rent immediately despite knowing we wouldn't be moving until late October. I couldn't help myself. The idea of imagining our lives in a new abode was too much for me.

I have a bit of an issue with being determinedly future-focused. I blame the American school system. They were constantly drilling into our heads what we were preparing for, what would be coming next. The next unit test, the next grade, the college we'd need good grades to get into, the college visits, the graduations, the so on and so on. THE FUTURE! "Don't forget about the future, kids! It'll be here before you know it." It's ruined me for living in the moment. All I care to do in the moment is entertain what I'll be doing next weekend. Or five years from now. Or when I have grandkids.

Being with Pete, Captain Right Now, has brought this future focused business into sharp relief. And it's sorta pointed out how exhausting it all is. I've been trying to take a break from planning and live more comfortably in the moment.

But apartment dreaming is a tough habit to break. And if you saw the state of our current apartment, you would hardly blame me.

See, there are a few reasons I want to move:
1. This is, has been, and always will be Pete's place. He moved in and established himself, then I came along. Most of the stuff is his. 90% of the furniture arrangement he decided upon. I love it here, but this is more his place than mine.
2. We have way too much goddamned stuff. This is a one-bedroom apartment. Pete is a pack-rat. I am a pack-rat. (Fine, yes, I admit it.) We have fat man in little pants syndrome around these parts.
3. We have no outside space. We have way too few outlets. We have no dishwasher. We have walls made of metal and concrete.

BUT. (Isn't there always a but?)

Last week our refrigerator broke. On a Sunday. It had already been a trying, emotionally exhausting weekend. Now we had to throw away the majority of the contents of our fridge and freezer? Thanks, Universe. Fuck you very much.

After a bunch of hijinks, which included a brief stint of two refrigerators in our small kitchen, we had a brand new fridge. Did you catch that? A BRAND NEW FRIDGE. Never before used. Lacking in any questionable stains or odors. White - not renter's beige.

Well, let me tell you. A new fridge is a game changer.

Pete was never as thrilled about moving as I was. He went along with me, even got a little excited about the prospect, but was never pumped. He hates moving, hates packing, hates getting rid of stuff, blah blah blah. So when he floated the "Well, what if we stayed here? There are so many things we do like about this place..." convo, he was a little surprised at how readily I jumped on the Not Moving bandwagon.

I had a few caveats, of course. I would be happy to stay if we put as much work into our current apartment as we would have put into moving. That means systematically going room by room and clearing things out. Moving stuff around. Re-evaluating every piece of art. Essentially, moving into our own place. Again. Together.

So, we're staying put. But things will be different around here. I think we should set a deadline and plan an Apartment re-Warming party. For May. We've got a lot of work to do.

I am a culinary genius

This week Pete got attacked by some kind of fly by night stomach bug. He woke up and tore out of bed around 4am on Sunday night, dashing to the bathroom. He made it, thankfully. A few rounds of puking followed. Since I happen to be an incredible human being, I hopped up to provide all my patented feel better remedies: a glass of cold water and some gentle back rubbing. We fell back asleep immediately and Pete felt alright on Monday, albeit a little left-over gross and sore-throaty.

Now, I figured this was a fluke. He got a little sick. Maybe something he ate? Except that we ate the same thing. Eh. Oh well. He was doing better already!

Then on Tuesday I was attacked by a similar awake-from-slumber-and-run-for-the-bathroom malady. Evidently Pete's system is more of a delicate flower than mine, because he tossed his cookies and evacuated the bug on Sunday. My iron stomach didn't put up the least complaint, but boy-oh-boy, my lower GI tract was NOT PLEASED!

Oh dear. I just realized I'd planned to write a post about food and began by recounting stories of stomach bugs, puking and poops of doom. Sorry about that.

Anyway, we were feeling a touch under the weather this week and cooking dinner just didn't really happen.

Enter my culinary masterpiece: The Gigantwich. The Gigantwich is a horrifying take on the harmless sandwich. It's a kissing-cousin of the Club Sandwich. The definition of a Gigantwhich is a triple layer sandwich, with both layers comprised of the same elements. This ain't no double-decker PB&J. No siree. The Gigantwich is when you are trying to make two sandwiches, but realize you have only 3 pieces of bread.

There you have it folks. Go forth and enjoy.

Story idea

As I was falling asleep last night I was thinking about a story wherein people's bodies became separated from their souls and they had to do something to get them back. Almost like indentured servitude for souls. The entity who protects people from the soul snatchers is actually the same entity as the soul snatchers! They get you coming and going.

It'd be a hero story with a young girl as the hero. She's not super pretty or super athletic or super anything. She's just a girl. She's a little chubby. She is shy around boys. She has a hard time controlling what comes out of her mouth sometimes. She has no idea that she has what it takes to bring down the entity that has her society firmly in its clutches. She's a reluctant, disbelieving hero. She has heard the legends of "haven't thought of a name for it yet" but she's 14 now and they're for kids. Sure she loved the old stories of triumph when she was little, but that was before (something terrible) happened. She's not quite cynical, but she had to grow up fast and has left childish fantasies behind her.

Underwhere??

Does anyone else have this problem? I have a perfectly lovely pair of undies. I wear them all the time and they are both pretty and comfy. *That pretty much sums up my underwear qualifications, but push comes to shove and I'll take comfy over pretty any day of the week.

Anyway, I have these previously excellent underwear on today and suddenly they are the most uncomfortable thing in my life! I didn't know it was possible to give yourself a Hands-Free Nuclear Wedgie, but turns out it is entirely possible. What's the difference between today's wedge-fest and all those other carefree, wedge-free days?

Today I am wearing a billowy skirt. I guess I generally wear these undies with pants? I do wear a LOT of jeans and pants, but I mix things up with plenty of dresses and skirts. In fact, I wear more skirts and dresses than most women I know. I guess I just lucked out and only wore these wedgifiers with pants before.

Underwear should come with instructions - "Wear me with skirts and you're tush will be happy!" Or maybe I should have two underwear bins? One for wearing with pants and one for skirts? What about all my undies that play for both teams? Should I just separate out the "Not to be worn with skirts for fear of butt crack habitation" or am I making too big a deal of this?

Maybe I should just make a note to myself to wear this particular pair of undies on the weekends, when I can be the true Freedom Wedgie Picker I am at heart. Good plan.

My 1st Philadelphia Spore

I went to my very first Philadelphia Spore last night. I've been on their email list through Evolver.net for a while now. I came close to going to one meeting, but bailed. Sometimes it shocks me how much less daring I've become socially. I was trepidatious about the kind of folks who'd be at the meeting - the group emails are often bizarre and they send about a gazillion a week. So last minute I chickened out and let myself talk myself out of going.

Not so this week! I got an email announcing that the regular facilitator was traveling, so this week's Spore (Topic: The Future of Psychedelics) would be hosted by Daniel Pinchbeck, Ken Jordan and Jonathan Talat Phillips. They are the founders of Evolver.net! I knew we needed to be there. The topic is something we are interested in and discuss already and the chance to listen to Daniel Pinchbeck right here in Philly, for free!, was not to be missed. Pete got right on board, suggested we invite Jeff and soon we had a group of 6 people heading to a yoga studio in West Philly.

The Spore was great. A ton of people showed up, more than double the usual turnout. No doubt people were there to see the "special guests" in from NY. Everyone introduced themselves and it was so heartening to sit in a room full of all kinds of people - young, old, shady-looking, stylish, hippie, hipster, and regular Joe - who were interested in sharing their experiences and exploring ideas about the future of the psychedelic experience. It's easy to forget that there are intrepid adventurers lurking in the shadows, ready to embrace new ideas and people. I will be going back to next month's Spore - The Mystery of Dreams. At this point I would have no problem going by myself. I read a bit about a Women's Group that is a Spore spin-off and might check that out in coming months.

I am happy with 2010 so far. I am doing a better job of LIVING my life, rather than just sitting back and watching time pass me by.

A shiny new decade

Whoah. So, 2010. I get all resolutiony this time of year. Last year I was all about losing 50 pounds in 2009. I got really gung ho about about it and dropped 30 between January and June. Then I started slacking off. I would like to capitalize on the semi-success of last year and get 2010 going like gangbusters.

I feel extra excited for 2010 for a few reasons. Firstly, it's a nice, round, even number. The start of something new. I will know what to call this decade (the teens, which feels a bit presumptuous right now, being that we've just dipped our toes into the double digits) as opposed to the continual questions associated with the oughts? Oots? Augts? I'm still not sure. Good riddance, pesky zero's.

Continuing on the even number trend, I am also an even number this year. At the tail end of '09 I turned 26. I was ready to leave 25 behind and be firmly in the second half of my twenties. They've been great so far, but I've been feeling tingles of excitement about 26 in 2010. Just feels promising. Pete's a nice round number right now, too. I like it.

I have been feeling a distinct sense of collective relief that 2009 over. People seem ready to believe in their futures again, rather than look at each new day with a mixture of fear and apprehension. Maybe it's just me, projecting. But I feel the relief.

So, new decade resolutions: *Take pictures and actually post them somewhere to share with my fam and friends and strangers the world over. *Turn losing weight into living a healthy lifestyle. Prove it to myself by running a 5k this Thanksgiving with my sister. *Make a budget with Pete. It's time for us to grow up financially already. *Learn a thing or two about blogging, so that I can have a page that looks less like a cookie cutter template and more like something I would be proud to lead people to. *Express myself creatively every day.

Every day. This is the big one. The "I owe it to myself to enjoy the hell out of this life" one. This is the way for me to grow creatively. That's what I've been missing most in recent years. I have had no organized creative outlet since the days of college theater and writing for my school's alternative paper. What have I been doing with my time?!? That's a scary question that I'm not going to bother answering right now. The plan is that by the end of 2010, this blog with be a testament to my creative endeavors.

So, it's January 4th. Have I been "expressing myself creatively" every day of 2010 thus far? Well, Jan. 1 I expressed myself by dancing into the early morning hours and followed that up by patrolling the couch in a lovely ensemble of pajamas from sunup to sundown. Check. January 2, I posted photos of my holiday shenanigans for all to see. Check. January 3, I cooked a mean breakfast of thin-as-i-could-make-them pancakes (alas, we were out of milk so crepes were out of the question) which I proceeded to roll around maple breakfast sausages. Pancake tacos, anyone? Very creative. Check!

Then today. Here I am expressing myself on blogger. Cheers to a year well started!