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Body: in sickness and in health

I won't lie; this body and I have had our issues with each other for many years. Body image -- sure. Physical and mental overextension -- comes with being a Type A kind of girl. I still struggle with these things, so they show up from time to time in my writing.

More recently, illness, pure but not simple, has added itself to the mix in a multi-system sort of way. And the challenges in figuring out exactly what's gone wrong are many. As problems have revealed themselves in the last few years, beginning with reactive hypoglycemia in late 2008, I've documented them here, partly to gain a little clarity on managing complex conditions but mostly to give voice to vulnerabilities I feel but don't normally share with anyone face to face. Better out than in, they say, right? (Oh yes, humor is one way I deal.)

The links below cover the different angles I've examined (and from which I've been examined) within that experience.

Travel: neither here nor there

When the person you're married to lives two time zones away, you log a fair number of frequent flier miles. And if you blog about commuter relationships, you log quite a few posts en route too.

Since we're no longer in separate places, I blog less often from airports. But we do travel -- together now! -- which is much more fun to write about. So in addition to thoughts on our years of commuting, the links below cover the places we've been as a pair and, in some cases, the adventures that have happened on the way.

Writing: the long and short of it

Why do I do it? Good question. Maybe it's not so much that I like to write but that I have to write, even when the words refuse to stick to the page. Believe me, I've tried doing other things like majoring in biochemistry (freshman fall, many semesters ago). Within a year, I'd switched to English with a concentration in creative writing and wasn't looking back.

After graduating, I taught English for a few years and then worked as an editor, which I still do freelance. In 2007, I applied and got into an MFA program at a place I like to call Little U. on the Prairie. I finished my degree in 2011 and have been balancing tutoring and writing on my own ever since.

The following links cover the writing I've done about writing: process, content, obstacles, you name it. It's not always pretty. But some part of me loves it, even when it's hard. And this is the result.

Heart: family and friends

I'd have a hard time explaining who I am without being able to talk about the family I grew up in as well as the people I've met beyond its bounds. But even with such context, it's not easy! In the simplest terms, I'm a first-generation Asian-American who has spent most of this life caught between cultures. That, of course, doesn't even begin to describe what I mean to, but there's my first stab at the heart of it all.

That's what this group of posts is reserved for -- heart. The essential parts of my life whose influences I carry with me, for better or worse. The links below cover what I've written as I've learned how these forces work within me, for me, against me, in spite of me. They anchor me even as they change me, and they keep life interesting.

Recommended reading

What do I do when there's too much on my mind and my words won't stick to the page? I escape into someone else's thoughts. Below is a collection of books and articles that have been sources of information, inspiration, and occasional insight for my own work.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

The air out there


... is much cooler than the air in here. And that is why strategically positioned windows are essential to homes that don't have air conditioning.

Even though D and I had an uncomfortably hot morning wandering a few neighborhoods with our realtor yesterday, it was very helpful to see which homes had good ventilation -- and which did not. We tested several places to see whether we could get substantial cross breezes flowing. Sadly, our own apartment isn't very conducive to that, even with its big windows (they're not situated across from one another by any stretch of the imagination). So now this little guy is my new best friend. He kicks up a nice breeze, and each of his fans is independently adjustable for aim and speed. Thank goodness there was one of these left at Target -- they were nearly cleaned out when we arrived.

We watched the Euro Cup final today with some of D's friends from work, which was fun (especially because there were supporters for both Germany and Spain in the group). Since the beginning of the month, D and I have arranged time to get together with several of those friends, so I'm starting to feel more comfortable around them -- they remember my name (or at least that I'm D's wife) and I remember theirs too. An intern even made a point of mentioning that people bring their friends and spouses to the office cafeteria for lunch and that I should join the group some time. I thought that was nice.

Oh, how wonderful it would be to put down roots here for good instead of having to get yanked up again in August ...

Saturday, June 28, 2008

A taste of summer

It is 90 degrees here for the first time since my vacation started, and the prep for our "exotic getaway" continues. The weather gods have apparently seen fit to give us a preview (sans humidity) of the climate we'll be heading for next weekend! As I write this, D is dousing himself in the pool by the apartment office (he couldn't stand it inside anymore).

They say that summer in Seattle only gets this warm about three times during the season, so practically no one has air conditioning installed. We were originally going to make pizza for dinner, but I think we'll opt for something that doesn't require us to use the broiler. Despite what the thermometer says outside, though, it's really not that bad in our apartment. When we were living in Texas, it was 90 degrees during the last week of November. Now that's disturbing, especially when you're trying to get in the mood to go winter holiday shopping.

To prime our taste buds for all things tropical, we bought a coconut earlier this week. As in, the kind that requires blunt force to open. Last night, we managed to break our way in, and today, we used its luscious meats in this cookie recipe (thanks to my sister for sending it to us!). All I have to say is that it was worth turning on the oven for these toothsome little morsels.

For anyone who wants to try making the cookies with fresh coconut, here's a blow-by-blow (aack -- no pun intended!) pictorial account of how we managed to open ours and get the innards into a usable state:

1) Here is our unsuspecting victim. I love that the tag calls it a "quick crack" coconut. And according to said tag, its name is Melissa?


2) D takes a blunt knife and pushes it into one of the eyes at the base of the coconut. This allows us to drain the milk from inside. We've saved it in case we want to use it for flavoring drinks later, but we intend to use it sparingly -- one cup contains nearly 800 calories.












3) D gives the shell a good whack with a hammer. Nothing happens. After a few more hits, we start to worry that the neighbors downstairs may complain (or that the counter will split before the coconut does). So we take the operation outside.


4) D nails the shell a few more times while holding it steady against the concrete floor of our apartment balcony. Still no signs of progress. Then D decides to try hitting the coconut while holding it in one hand.












5) Instant success.



6) Now how to get all the meat out? We start by breaking the coconut into smaller pieces, removing the majority of the shell in the process. Then I shear the meat off with a cheese grater and D carves the remaining rind bits off the pieces once they get too small for me to hold without scraping my knuckles. This is highly time and energy intensive, but I'm pleased with how much I manage to get in about half an hour ...


... then D remembers that we have a food processor. Five minutes later, we have nearly three cups of coconut confetti. Your timing is impeccable, D.

And here are the finished products! They have the tenderness of macaroons with absolutely no need for filling because the coconut is already just rich enough. We didn't use the orange blossom water or orange zest (none on hand), and we substituted (in total) 1/2 cup of Splenda and 1/8 cup of sugar-free maple syrup for the white and brown sugars so the cookies would be substantially more hypoglycemic-friendly for D. We also did not have any golden syrup, but honey worked well as a replacement, as the recipe recommends.



Now all we have to do is figure out what we want to do with our remaining shredded coconut. I think more cookies are in order.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

What's the plan?


Which one are you asking about? I have about five going simultaneously ...

It came to our attention that we will be leaving in a week for Miami (wedding 2 of 5 plus extended vacation). When we booked our tickets back in April, we figured we should make good use of the trip since the distance we'll be traveling is nearly equivalent to flying across the Atlantic. So we gave ourselves a few more days at our hotel and said we'd decide what else we wanted to see and do in the area after I got done with school. On Monday, we realized that we had nothing lined up yet. This may be a very impromptu sort of vacation.

We do have most of our warm-weather clothing ready to go, which is kick-starting the "exotic getaway" state of mind here despite the chillier temperatures (have I mentioned that it still gets down into the 40s at night?). D and I have both invested in sun-protective clothing so we don't roast while we're at the beach. There is a possibility that we might take a one-day cruise to the Bahamas as well. Stay tuned on that one -- we're looking into the cruise line to see how reputable it is. Beyond that, we're open to suggestions on things to soak up besides sun and frozen drinks. Recommendations, anyone?

On the entrepreneurial front, we did manage to sell the futon (congrats to Buyer No. 3!), which means we have nine square feet of space newly liberated at home. We are also officially registered with Amazon and I've listed the books we want to sell online. Though the likelihood that someone will pay a good price for any of them is kind of low. How do you compete with sellers who list the same titles for $0.01? Fortunately, we happen to live in a city that has Half Price Books. D and I are going to haul our stash there this weekend to see what the store will offer us. If they can beat the average price on Amazon, we'll gladly hand over the goods. Now if we could only find someone who would buy our NordicTrack ski machine -- I have a feeling that it might end up going to Goodwill. We'd like to avoid giving it away for free (new ones retail for $1,000!), so I guess we'll just keep watching the Craigslist "wanted" forum.

Speaking of avoidance, I've been hiding from our realtor. She is
h-u-u-u-ngry! Which is a good thing -- she's worked very hard to send us many listings that suit our needs and tastes -- but we can't get her to stop hounding us about obtaining a pre-approval letter from a lender (her in-house folks, naturally). D and I are going to have to get creative with excuses on why we haven't called any of her recommendees yet. "We'd like to do it when we're both available to chat with them," was the last thing I came up with on the fly when the realtor called me at home from a number I didn't recognize (programmed that one into the phone right after she hung up!). I researched the lenders this morning just to see if it really was worth giving them a ring, and it turns out that both are only local organizations (independent mortgage brokers, not affiliated with any banks per se). One of their websites, in fact, had a ton of broken links, which inspired little confidence. Ironically, the only link that did seem to work was to customer testimonials (all good, of course, but given the context, not so reliable). Maybe I'll mention that when she brings up the lenders again (because you know she will) while we're looking at more houses with her on Saturday.

The real reason we're stalling is that we don't intend to buy a house in the next three months, which, for many lenders, is about the average shelf-life for pre-approval letters. Getting pre-approved means having our credit checked, and having "hard" inquiries into our credit will affect our scores if we go through this process every few months in the next year. Hence our resistance.

What we do plan to do, however, is bring me home to Seattle after the next school year ends, and then we can look at buying in earnest. Yes, we've decided that keeping me in Iowa to write my thesis during the third year of the program will be too expensive with travel and renting the extra apartment, even if I have a TA salary. So, as much as I'd like to teach that extra year for the experience, D and I are definitely planning a permanent reunion for May 2009. I know, I know, "permanent" was what we said last time, but I think we've both determined that we'd rather find alternative solutions to furthering our careers instead of having a third round of commuting.

As for the Plan (i.e., what I'm going to do with my life), the jury is out on that one, and I'm okay with that for now.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Well, then -- !

Now this is just silly. But I'm tickled.

Your result for the Which Punctuation Mark Are You test ...

Hyphen

You are comfortable around others. While you don't have to go out every night, you take pride in being easy to get along with. This should not, however, be misconstrued as believing (as many do) that you are without subtlety. In fact, you have the power to inform the anal retentive that, indeed, they are discussing an anal-retentive issue. Who else can do that? Quotation marks intimidate you a little bit.
My own reasons for loving this particular punctuation mark come from having spent most of my life exploring and writing about gray areas (academic and otherwise). So the label is apt in that respect. Things that don't fit just one hat but many, things that defy categorization -- as much as I sometimes wish I preferred simpler phenomena, I'm drawn to these messier ones. Many thanks to the teaching assistant who introduced me to the idea of liminality when I was writing one of many papers in college. It has, paradoxically, been most helpful in defining what fascinates me about the spheres of existence that we occupy. Whether we're talking about language, culture, space, time, or consciousness, there is always the allure of the spaces in between and what they hold. I guess this is why I find myself trying to "unpack" so much whenever I sit down to write -- too often getting nowhere.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Ups and downs

Today has been a simultaneously amusing and annoying day.

Of late, I've been having weird dreams, some of them bordering on nightmares, but not the kind where you wake up screaming in terror. Just disturbing, angsty ones that involve interpersonal conflicts. Apparently, I've been talking in my sleep too, which has been kind of entertaining for D. Until I slugged him this morning while in the throes of one of those dreams, that is.

I didn't hit him extraordinarily hard, he says, but I was mumbling in a half-whisper and then suddenly nailed him in the kidney with my fist. At which point he woke me up immediately (I was still snoozing along in complete oblivion) and asked me what the heck I was dreaming about. Normally, I don't remember my dreams very clearly, but this one was as vivid as a movie trailer. "I hit ______," I said (just in case that person should ever read this, I'll keep the name to myself -- no need to stir up any animosity based on the bizarre subliminal workings of my brain!).

"Oh, well that makes sense," D said, laughing. "You just punched me."

It is funny. But it made me wonder what kind of aggression I've been suppressing and what to do about it so poor D doesn't end up taking more beatings in the wee hours of the morning ...

After we got up, we readied the futon for its new owner. Only she never appeared. No e-mail either to say her plans had changed, no apologies for getting lost. It seems she's just no longer interested. Oh well, on to Prospective Buyers No. 2 and No. 3. Yes, there's a third person who contacted us late last night. Hopefully one of these will work out. But how annoying to be stood up! I suppose I jinxed the sale by blogging about it yesterday. Grumble grumble grumble ... hmm, D had better sleep with body armor under his pajamas tonight. My subconscious really may try to take out its indignation on him again!

Actually, there's one other reason he should beware: we had a heated game of tennis this afternoon in which he beat me, 6-4,
6-4. It was lots of fun, the weather was perfect, the points were (mostly) well-played, and I was way less rusty than I thought I would be (I haven't played competitively for a decade). But to come so close -- and get my rear handed to me in the end by someone who's never played except for the summer when he was 13! Clearly, seven years of serious practice doesn't add up to much against real talent.

I am pleased that my serve is still decent and very dependable. But if we're going to have a rematch, I want a new grip for my racquet. It's actually peeling away in threads after ten years of sitting in a closet. Oh, the blisters ...

Saturday, June 21, 2008

First sale!

Well, almost. Someone is coming to pick up our futon tomorrow. Hopefully the buyer won't change her mind once she gets here. She sounded quite enthusiastic in her response to the post I put on Craigslist (the beginning of our attempts to make more space at our place), but these things can fall through. There was another person who replied to the ad, asking to see the futon first before deciding whether she wanted it. Guess we'll see what happens! I have a good feeling about this. Prospective Buyer No. 1 e-mailed me at 6 a.m. on Friday to put her offer in. By 7, we had decided on a price and pick-up time (I was up early because D had to leave for a 6:30 bus). Prospective Buyer No. 2 may not have a chance if
No. 1 is as gung-ho in person as she is online.

We signed our lease renewal today, which means we have at least one more year to pare down our overflow of stuff. I'm relieved that we're staying and I think D is also pretty glad we're not moving. We'll have to remind each other about that when we pay next month's rent. Sigh. Incidentally, the New York Times ran this article today, which confirms the market news we were given by the apartment office on why the rates went up so drastically.

On a happier note, one of my former roommates from college sent me a belated birthday gift! Look at what she made:


Needless to say, I'm very impressed. The glaze has a watercolor-like quality to it, especially the gradations of pink on the inside. I need to find some kind of hands-on art classes or projects -- not necessarily pottery, but something that will give the creative part of my brain new ground to explore. Maybe that will stimulate the essay writing neurons again; of late they've been burned out. Or whenever I get some thoughts going, they peter out again when I start to jot things down. Frustrating.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Habit-ational attachments


Because it's close to the mountains. Because the bathroom is nice. Because the doors aren't hollow. Because of the gas stove.

There are so many reasons why I don't want to move out of this apartment at the end of this month.

We didn't expect that to be under consideration in our summer plans, but we just found out from the apartment office that our rent will be raised considerably if we renew our lease because of the sudden market demand for rental units. It seems there are people lining up to get into places like these now that the mortgage crisis is forcing homeowners to abandon their real estate. It figures.

We're getting a one-time discount on next month's rent as a concession for the construction noise we have to put up with for probably the next year (there's another set of units going up behind us). This is nowhere near what we were discounted when we first signed (for the same issue), but because there are fifteen potential lessees anxiously hoping to take our place, it's not really negotiable. Not that the noise is actually that bothersome, but hey, anything to save a little more.

D is pushing me to think about our looking into a smaller, cheaper apartment here for the next year so we can keep saving what we've been saving toward a downpayment on a home and, hopefully, some nice upgrades on it to boost its resale value. But how small are we going to have to go in order to make the move worthwhile? As it is, we're stuffed pretty tightly into this place (you've seen the closet). Any reduction in square footage is going to mean putting some things in storage somewhere -- which certainly won't be free.

Beyond that, there's the issue of building quality. The place we have is decently constructed and finished with newer appliances and fixtures. Last summer, we saw places that were much older and smaller, downright shoddy in their assembly -- and more expensive. Somehow I doubt they've resisted raising their rent rates either.

There's the option of taking on a roommate (say, a coworker of D's), which D has also suggested. This will also mean putting things in storage (a roommate will likely come with duplicate furniture). Add to this the awkwardness of having to share common space as a married couple with someone who will probably want to host video game nights and do the sorts of all-guy things that I'm really not inclined to take part in when I'm visiting on already too-short weekends or during holiday breaks. This arrangement is clearly suboptimal.

"But you'll hardly be here for most of the year anyway," D points out.

Yes, this is true. But each time in the past months of our separation that I've walked through the door into this space, it has been home. A haven at the end of a journey, a sanctuary where I can relax. Not just because it contains the familiar -- sounds, smells, belongings -- but also because it's occupied only by someone familiar. Someone I can wear rumply pajamas around, someone I'm so comfortable with that being asked to clean up my crap or asking him to do the same isn't awkward. Someone who understands why I prefer to work out in private. Someone whose daily routine is already melded and entwined with mine, so that the pas de deux we perform as we get ready for the day or retire for the night is second nature, even after my extended absence. I need the habit in our cohabitation. With a stranger in the mix, it's bound to change.

So if we are to stay here, it means the savings have to come from somewhere else. Call more, fly less? I'm willing to entertain this option; D is less enthusiastic. As it is, plane ticket prices have ballooned and probably won't come down in the near future.

Why am I going through with this master's program again? In the face of these new developments, I don't know if we can afford it anymore.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Trailblazing

What a weekend.

It was cloudy but dry Saturday morning, so we packed a picnic lunch and headed for one of the state parks outside the city to explore some hiking trails. No, we didn't end up renting bikes -- it was too expensive, we decided, and picking them up would have added some extra driving to the cost (gas is $4.40 per gallon!). So we climbed a small mountain instead and got a nice workout all the same. My hip flexors can still feel it today! Whew.

The trails we used were moderately well-maintained except in a few places where the overgrowth was up past my waist (where's a machete when you need one?). We managed a six-mile loop (about 2,000 vertical feet) in four hours with a stop for lunch. By the end of it, we were quite muddy, but it was worth it for all the fresh air and the peaceful sound of the streams that occasionally crossed our path.

Most of the sights didn't vary much, but the vegetation did change as we got higher. The lower areas were carpeted by ferns that looked like giant carrot tops poking out of the earth, which made me feel like I had wandered into rabbit heaven by accident; the upper ones had holly and more fir trees. At all elevations we came across some interesting fungi that grew out of the sides of tree trunks as if the trees were sticking fat fleshy tongues out at us.

The highlight of the day was the nest of birds we discovered inside one of those trunks. The energetic chirping stopped me on the path next to it, but I couldn't see where the noise was coming from. D walked up to a crack in the bole and realized there were babies inside. An adult with something in its beak landed on a branch not far away and echoed the same call that was coming from the tree, so we stepped back and waited. Sure enough, the bird circled the trunk, slipped through the crack and dropped whatever it was holding inside. Then it zipped back out and disappeared.

Sunday's explorations were more suburban (and thankfully did not involve much walking since we were a bit sore). We didn't find the nest of our dreams (as expected this early in the house-hunting process), but we did learn a lot about the realtors we chose to try out. The first one, who drove us around to the homes we had asked her to show us, was pretty astute -- she had previewed all of the places earlier in the week and pointed out things she thought we might not like about them (but in a way that suggested that they were details to consider bringing up in negotiations, not that they were total dealbreakers). Then she zeroed in on our reactions as we toured each house, observing what we focused on even if we didn't comment out loud. It was almost a little unnerving, but it showed us that she had an eye for detail and was experienced in reading people. The second realtor, on the other hand, did a much more perfunctory job -- not really trying to assess what our tastes were and just talking up the properties in a slightly too transparent sales-minded way. In fact, she talked down about one residence when comparing it to another we were looking at (I can't imagine what its owners would have thought had they heard her). Like they say about job interviews, don't ever be openly negative about former places you've been ...

All in all, quite the learning experience.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Wheel we or won't we?

It depends, as they say, on the weather.

D and I took a lovely trip to San Francisco for our birthdays a year and a few months ago (that week also happened to coincide with a conference and employment fair that unexpectedly yielded D his current job). While we were there, we rented some bikes and pedaled along the coast, ending with an exhilarating ride across the Golden Gate Bridge. I think I grinned like a small child the entire time, which is saying a lot. I'm not normally an effusively grinny person, and certainly not in the euphoric sense. People who know me would be quicker to use words like "ironic" (or, if they wanted to be blunt, "cynical" and "sarcastic") to describe my usual brand of humor. I try to keep that more in check here -- it's too easily misinterpreted no matter how many emoticons one might use to convey tone, etc. -- but in person, I fall more into the camp of those who appreciate the art of cracking wise. Though not unkindly.

All this is to say that if it's sunny tomorrow, we might get to go biking again, and I'm excited.

We've had rain nearly every day in the last week, but the sky has been dry for the last 48 hours. The locals have been complaining about the cold and the wet that have dogged this area all spring -- I don't mind it at all; I'm so spoiled to have 60-degree temps when the rest of the country is sweltering -- but it would be nice if the precipitation holds off for another day so we can have this outing.

It would also be nice if the weather would give some relief to Iowa and the rest of the Midwest! I've been keeping an eye on my home away from home, and the flood reports are dire. I've been lucky so far; my building is located on a sizable hill, so the danger of water damage isn't imminent (I called the apartment manager this morning to get a status report). Many of the city's main thoroughfares, however, are completely submerged. Whole neighborhoods have been evacuated, and it doesn't look like the water levels are going to go down until next week -- if the storms subside for a few days.

On a lighter note, D took the personality test that I tried yesterday, and it turns out that we are almost complete opposites (not surprising). He's extroverted, intuitive, thinking, and judging (ENTJ), which means we're a very good balance for each other. But we're also methodologically divergent when it comes to problem solving, which could suggest an increased chance for tiffs in that arena. No relationship gets to be blissful all the time -- judging by how we've done over the years, I think the balance we bring each other trumps the occasional flare-up pretty well. And we're definitely counting on that to get through next year's commute.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Time for a little introspection

The quest for personal direction continues -- in the form of personality typing.

Click to view my Personality Profile page

I took a version of this test several years ago when I was teaching in New York, and I think my profile may have changed since then. I suppose that's possible. I was originally introverted, sensing, thinking, and judging (ISTJ); now "thinking" has been replaced with "feeling" (not by a huge margin, but it suggests a real shift all the same). This is good. I don't mean that who I was before was bad, but I think I'm happier as the person I am today. And if being more of a "feeling" person rather than a "thinking" one is responsible for that, I'm content. I have a feeling (no pun intended) that deciding to get up close and personal this year with who I am in my writing allowed that change to happen. Even if it was uncomfortable much of the time.

The ISFJ profile on the test website lists possible career matches, some of which are amusing. Others are eerily consistent with things I seriously considered as a kid (before all the practical career advice was heaped on me in high school/college). Maybe interior decorating isn't entirely out of my future ...

Speaking of interiors, D and I are going on our first realtor-accompanied visits to a few homes this weekend. We met some realtors last weekend when we went on an open-house tour and decided to let two of them do private showings for us on Sunday morning. Then we'll hit a couple more open houses in the afternoon in some neighborhoods we haven't gotten to see yet. Just one day of checking out the conditions of different places at various price points was extremely informative. We now have a basic feel for what is grossly overpriced and what will require significant remodeling to make it suit our needs and tastes (apparently windows are very expensive to update). While we'd both enjoy transforming a space into one we can truly call home, we're not looking for something that would demand a second loan (not to mention time we don't have) to renovate. We're also being careful not to get too burned out right at the start of this whole search process -- some good advice from a friend of ours who just bought her first house in Boston -- so Saturday is for us to enjoy without the mention of square footage, mortgage payments, and pre-approval letters.

My nesting instincts are buzzing with all this house talk! Maybe I really should try to tackle the office closet ...

Actually, there is some evidence that cleaning is good for boosting your mood. Check out this article. It explains, perhaps, my increasing affinity for all things tidy.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Confessions of a workaholic

You know you're avoiding something when taking a crack at this mess suddenly becomes an attractive use of your time.

It has been exactly three weeks since I woke up on the first morning of my summer vacation here. And despite vociferous protests from the Type A part of my brain, I've heeded the advice of several of you who witnessed the craziness of this last semester and have deliberately ignored the impulse to "do something productive" during this break. But I think my defenses are cracking.

I know. I'm supposed to be figuring out what I really want out of my life to make me happy. I'm supposed to be finding real ways to relax. This means not focusing on "the Plan" as it was originally laid out -- to get this master's degree and then launch myself into an energetic search for a professorship or editorial position. It means not worrying about what will happen if for a while after I graduate, we fail to become a two-income household. It means not listening to all the practical advice I was ever given on building a foundation for my future as an independently solvent woman.

It means staring spare time in the face and deciding what to do with it. Which is not the same as deciding what not to do with it. The latter is all I've really accomplished, I think. Don't enter last month's receipts into the budget spreadsheet. Don't research where to send essays for publication. Don't do anything that could be construed as work. Don't worry about how much time I'm "wasting."

I've knocked off the easy stuff on the List of Ways to Relax -- sleeping in and reading to my heart's content and just being in the same space as D every evening and every weekend. And while that has been very good, the Type A part of my brain has been feeling so deprived of activity that I find myself guiltily breaking from my vacation regimen (it's like cheating on a diet!) just to appease its hunger. It started with loading a few plates into the dishwasher during mornings last week. Then there was that one load of laundry that turned into three, all of it neatly folded -- and then the toilet that was so conveniently in need of disinfecting right before my shower on Saturday (I had to get squeaky, so why not the loo too?). Then yesterday, I cleaned the kitchen and before I could stop myself, the dining and living rooms as well.

Today, though, was the clincher. I opened the door to our office closet and actually considered giving it the full-on reorganization it desperately needs (see photo). Fortunately, the boxes are stacked so high that I can't get them down without D's help. There's also the risk of having something heavy whack me on the head if I try to get the items at the bottom of the pile out, so for now, the contents of the closet are safe.

I didn't intentionally go into the closet to try to sort through all the random junk we've collected. I was, in fact, searching for a piece of embroidery that I started four summers ago and never finished. But clearly, even my pursuit of new (or renewed) forms of relaxation is only revealing other ways to deviate from my plan to get rest and get happy or else.

D says he'll help me find the embroidery. I think I may have discovered another project for myself, though, that veers dangerously into cleaning territory: putting our stuff on eBay. We've intended to do this since last summer's move, but we haven't made time. I now have tons of it, and if real estate prices here are an indication of the space we can afford, I need to clear out some of our possessions. At the very least, it'll make our current place less cramped, which is definitely key to creating an environment conducive to R&R.

I admit, it's a compromise. But maybe it'll keep my brain satisfied enough that I'll be able to think about what I really need to be happy. Not in five years, but right now. Besides, if completely squelching the Type A in me makes me miserable, then the rest of this is moot, no?

Friday, June 6, 2008

Home again, home again, figgity fig

After a little search on the internet, D and I found a recipe for fig bread that we tried last night. We left out the dates, but we can add them next time. And there will definitely be a next time. This bread is full of figgy goodness, scrumptious all by itself. We couldn't wait till breakfast to taste-test our experiment (the aroma was too tempting), so we sliced off a piece to share as a midnight snack.
Surprisingly, the Splenda we substituted for sugar did not dry out the bread (probably because it was proportionally small to the rest of the ingredients). I attempted to make brownies from scratch with Splenda and got a much chewier result than I had anticipated (that recipe asked for a lot of sugar relative to anything else). Something to remember for future trials. D has reactive hypoglycemia, so I'm constantly on the lookout for ways to make goodies that he normally can't eat much of.

We have a few figs left, so we'll use them on pizza this weekend (another recipe that made us hungry). It is so unusual having two people to cook for. We're actually planning meals before we go grocery shopping! The variety is very welcome. When you're cooking for one, bulk items that produce lots of leftovers (casseroles, soups) are easier, but you eventually do get tired of the same thing day after day.


Tuesday, June 3, 2008

To market, to market

... to spy a fat pig!

Okay, not really, but these porkers are all over downtown Seattle. This one in particular watches over Pike Place Market, which we wandered through on Sunday to pick out a "fun ingredient," as D calls it. We decided to do this about once a week for the summer -- going to a local grocery or produce stand to find something interesting to build a meal around (or at the very least a central dish). This expedition landed us some plump little Calimyrna figs. More news to come on what we do with them.


The market was overrun (even more than usual) because it happened to be the weekend of the Pike Place Market Street Festival. We managed to weave through the crowds without stepping on any toes. Maybe next time we come down, we'll bring the cooler and get some seafood from the famous fish counter where the men working the stand juggle orders (literally). The masses were a bit thick -- attracted, no question, to the fish-flinging act -- and getting a good look at the merchandise would have required more elbowing than we were inclined to try.


In other projects of the moment: we drove around Mercer Island for the first time. Mercer Island is the home of the top rated school districts in all of Washington (and thus, some prime real estate), and a random internet search of properties for sale there turned up some scary prices a few months ago. D and I figured we probably had no hope of buying a house in this part of Seattle. But on the off chance that there was a bungalow we might stumble upon, we took a tour around the island on the way back from the market. Believe it or not, we found something. It's not for sale, as far as we can tell, but this is proof that even people of modest means can have their square footage there:


Based on what we've seen for more standard size homes out there, we're estimating the value of this place to be $400,000. (And that is why we'll be looking elsewhere for a home ... )

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Sunday, June 29, 2008

The air out there


... is much cooler than the air in here. And that is why strategically positioned windows are essential to homes that don't have air conditioning.

Even though D and I had an uncomfortably hot morning wandering a few neighborhoods with our realtor yesterday, it was very helpful to see which homes had good ventilation -- and which did not. We tested several places to see whether we could get substantial cross breezes flowing. Sadly, our own apartment isn't very conducive to that, even with its big windows (they're not situated across from one another by any stretch of the imagination). So now this little guy is my new best friend. He kicks up a nice breeze, and each of his fans is independently adjustable for aim and speed. Thank goodness there was one of these left at Target -- they were nearly cleaned out when we arrived.

We watched the Euro Cup final today with some of D's friends from work, which was fun (especially because there were supporters for both Germany and Spain in the group). Since the beginning of the month, D and I have arranged time to get together with several of those friends, so I'm starting to feel more comfortable around them -- they remember my name (or at least that I'm D's wife) and I remember theirs too. An intern even made a point of mentioning that people bring their friends and spouses to the office cafeteria for lunch and that I should join the group some time. I thought that was nice.

Oh, how wonderful it would be to put down roots here for good instead of having to get yanked up again in August ...

Saturday, June 28, 2008

A taste of summer

It is 90 degrees here for the first time since my vacation started, and the prep for our "exotic getaway" continues. The weather gods have apparently seen fit to give us a preview (sans humidity) of the climate we'll be heading for next weekend! As I write this, D is dousing himself in the pool by the apartment office (he couldn't stand it inside anymore).

They say that summer in Seattle only gets this warm about three times during the season, so practically no one has air conditioning installed. We were originally going to make pizza for dinner, but I think we'll opt for something that doesn't require us to use the broiler. Despite what the thermometer says outside, though, it's really not that bad in our apartment. When we were living in Texas, it was 90 degrees during the last week of November. Now that's disturbing, especially when you're trying to get in the mood to go winter holiday shopping.

To prime our taste buds for all things tropical, we bought a coconut earlier this week. As in, the kind that requires blunt force to open. Last night, we managed to break our way in, and today, we used its luscious meats in this cookie recipe (thanks to my sister for sending it to us!). All I have to say is that it was worth turning on the oven for these toothsome little morsels.

For anyone who wants to try making the cookies with fresh coconut, here's a blow-by-blow (aack -- no pun intended!) pictorial account of how we managed to open ours and get the innards into a usable state:

1) Here is our unsuspecting victim. I love that the tag calls it a "quick crack" coconut. And according to said tag, its name is Melissa?


2) D takes a blunt knife and pushes it into one of the eyes at the base of the coconut. This allows us to drain the milk from inside. We've saved it in case we want to use it for flavoring drinks later, but we intend to use it sparingly -- one cup contains nearly 800 calories.












3) D gives the shell a good whack with a hammer. Nothing happens. After a few more hits, we start to worry that the neighbors downstairs may complain (or that the counter will split before the coconut does). So we take the operation outside.


4) D nails the shell a few more times while holding it steady against the concrete floor of our apartment balcony. Still no signs of progress. Then D decides to try hitting the coconut while holding it in one hand.












5) Instant success.



6) Now how to get all the meat out? We start by breaking the coconut into smaller pieces, removing the majority of the shell in the process. Then I shear the meat off with a cheese grater and D carves the remaining rind bits off the pieces once they get too small for me to hold without scraping my knuckles. This is highly time and energy intensive, but I'm pleased with how much I manage to get in about half an hour ...


... then D remembers that we have a food processor. Five minutes later, we have nearly three cups of coconut confetti. Your timing is impeccable, D.

And here are the finished products! They have the tenderness of macaroons with absolutely no need for filling because the coconut is already just rich enough. We didn't use the orange blossom water or orange zest (none on hand), and we substituted (in total) 1/2 cup of Splenda and 1/8 cup of sugar-free maple syrup for the white and brown sugars so the cookies would be substantially more hypoglycemic-friendly for D. We also did not have any golden syrup, but honey worked well as a replacement, as the recipe recommends.



Now all we have to do is figure out what we want to do with our remaining shredded coconut. I think more cookies are in order.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

What's the plan?


Which one are you asking about? I have about five going simultaneously ...

It came to our attention that we will be leaving in a week for Miami (wedding 2 of 5 plus extended vacation). When we booked our tickets back in April, we figured we should make good use of the trip since the distance we'll be traveling is nearly equivalent to flying across the Atlantic. So we gave ourselves a few more days at our hotel and said we'd decide what else we wanted to see and do in the area after I got done with school. On Monday, we realized that we had nothing lined up yet. This may be a very impromptu sort of vacation.

We do have most of our warm-weather clothing ready to go, which is kick-starting the "exotic getaway" state of mind here despite the chillier temperatures (have I mentioned that it still gets down into the 40s at night?). D and I have both invested in sun-protective clothing so we don't roast while we're at the beach. There is a possibility that we might take a one-day cruise to the Bahamas as well. Stay tuned on that one -- we're looking into the cruise line to see how reputable it is. Beyond that, we're open to suggestions on things to soak up besides sun and frozen drinks. Recommendations, anyone?

On the entrepreneurial front, we did manage to sell the futon (congrats to Buyer No. 3!), which means we have nine square feet of space newly liberated at home. We are also officially registered with Amazon and I've listed the books we want to sell online. Though the likelihood that someone will pay a good price for any of them is kind of low. How do you compete with sellers who list the same titles for $0.01? Fortunately, we happen to live in a city that has Half Price Books. D and I are going to haul our stash there this weekend to see what the store will offer us. If they can beat the average price on Amazon, we'll gladly hand over the goods. Now if we could only find someone who would buy our NordicTrack ski machine -- I have a feeling that it might end up going to Goodwill. We'd like to avoid giving it away for free (new ones retail for $1,000!), so I guess we'll just keep watching the Craigslist "wanted" forum.

Speaking of avoidance, I've been hiding from our realtor. She is
h-u-u-u-ngry! Which is a good thing -- she's worked very hard to send us many listings that suit our needs and tastes -- but we can't get her to stop hounding us about obtaining a pre-approval letter from a lender (her in-house folks, naturally). D and I are going to have to get creative with excuses on why we haven't called any of her recommendees yet. "We'd like to do it when we're both available to chat with them," was the last thing I came up with on the fly when the realtor called me at home from a number I didn't recognize (programmed that one into the phone right after she hung up!). I researched the lenders this morning just to see if it really was worth giving them a ring, and it turns out that both are only local organizations (independent mortgage brokers, not affiliated with any banks per se). One of their websites, in fact, had a ton of broken links, which inspired little confidence. Ironically, the only link that did seem to work was to customer testimonials (all good, of course, but given the context, not so reliable). Maybe I'll mention that when she brings up the lenders again (because you know she will) while we're looking at more houses with her on Saturday.

The real reason we're stalling is that we don't intend to buy a house in the next three months, which, for many lenders, is about the average shelf-life for pre-approval letters. Getting pre-approved means having our credit checked, and having "hard" inquiries into our credit will affect our scores if we go through this process every few months in the next year. Hence our resistance.

What we do plan to do, however, is bring me home to Seattle after the next school year ends, and then we can look at buying in earnest. Yes, we've decided that keeping me in Iowa to write my thesis during the third year of the program will be too expensive with travel and renting the extra apartment, even if I have a TA salary. So, as much as I'd like to teach that extra year for the experience, D and I are definitely planning a permanent reunion for May 2009. I know, I know, "permanent" was what we said last time, but I think we've both determined that we'd rather find alternative solutions to furthering our careers instead of having a third round of commuting.

As for the Plan (i.e., what I'm going to do with my life), the jury is out on that one, and I'm okay with that for now.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Well, then -- !

Now this is just silly. But I'm tickled.

Your result for the Which Punctuation Mark Are You test ...

Hyphen

You are comfortable around others. While you don't have to go out every night, you take pride in being easy to get along with. This should not, however, be misconstrued as believing (as many do) that you are without subtlety. In fact, you have the power to inform the anal retentive that, indeed, they are discussing an anal-retentive issue. Who else can do that? Quotation marks intimidate you a little bit.
My own reasons for loving this particular punctuation mark come from having spent most of my life exploring and writing about gray areas (academic and otherwise). So the label is apt in that respect. Things that don't fit just one hat but many, things that defy categorization -- as much as I sometimes wish I preferred simpler phenomena, I'm drawn to these messier ones. Many thanks to the teaching assistant who introduced me to the idea of liminality when I was writing one of many papers in college. It has, paradoxically, been most helpful in defining what fascinates me about the spheres of existence that we occupy. Whether we're talking about language, culture, space, time, or consciousness, there is always the allure of the spaces in between and what they hold. I guess this is why I find myself trying to "unpack" so much whenever I sit down to write -- too often getting nowhere.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Ups and downs

Today has been a simultaneously amusing and annoying day.

Of late, I've been having weird dreams, some of them bordering on nightmares, but not the kind where you wake up screaming in terror. Just disturbing, angsty ones that involve interpersonal conflicts. Apparently, I've been talking in my sleep too, which has been kind of entertaining for D. Until I slugged him this morning while in the throes of one of those dreams, that is.

I didn't hit him extraordinarily hard, he says, but I was mumbling in a half-whisper and then suddenly nailed him in the kidney with my fist. At which point he woke me up immediately (I was still snoozing along in complete oblivion) and asked me what the heck I was dreaming about. Normally, I don't remember my dreams very clearly, but this one was as vivid as a movie trailer. "I hit ______," I said (just in case that person should ever read this, I'll keep the name to myself -- no need to stir up any animosity based on the bizarre subliminal workings of my brain!).

"Oh, well that makes sense," D said, laughing. "You just punched me."

It is funny. But it made me wonder what kind of aggression I've been suppressing and what to do about it so poor D doesn't end up taking more beatings in the wee hours of the morning ...

After we got up, we readied the futon for its new owner. Only she never appeared. No e-mail either to say her plans had changed, no apologies for getting lost. It seems she's just no longer interested. Oh well, on to Prospective Buyers No. 2 and No. 3. Yes, there's a third person who contacted us late last night. Hopefully one of these will work out. But how annoying to be stood up! I suppose I jinxed the sale by blogging about it yesterday. Grumble grumble grumble ... hmm, D had better sleep with body armor under his pajamas tonight. My subconscious really may try to take out its indignation on him again!

Actually, there's one other reason he should beware: we had a heated game of tennis this afternoon in which he beat me, 6-4,
6-4. It was lots of fun, the weather was perfect, the points were (mostly) well-played, and I was way less rusty than I thought I would be (I haven't played competitively for a decade). But to come so close -- and get my rear handed to me in the end by someone who's never played except for the summer when he was 13! Clearly, seven years of serious practice doesn't add up to much against real talent.

I am pleased that my serve is still decent and very dependable. But if we're going to have a rematch, I want a new grip for my racquet. It's actually peeling away in threads after ten years of sitting in a closet. Oh, the blisters ...

Saturday, June 21, 2008

First sale!

Well, almost. Someone is coming to pick up our futon tomorrow. Hopefully the buyer won't change her mind once she gets here. She sounded quite enthusiastic in her response to the post I put on Craigslist (the beginning of our attempts to make more space at our place), but these things can fall through. There was another person who replied to the ad, asking to see the futon first before deciding whether she wanted it. Guess we'll see what happens! I have a good feeling about this. Prospective Buyer No. 1 e-mailed me at 6 a.m. on Friday to put her offer in. By 7, we had decided on a price and pick-up time (I was up early because D had to leave for a 6:30 bus). Prospective Buyer No. 2 may not have a chance if
No. 1 is as gung-ho in person as she is online.

We signed our lease renewal today, which means we have at least one more year to pare down our overflow of stuff. I'm relieved that we're staying and I think D is also pretty glad we're not moving. We'll have to remind each other about that when we pay next month's rent. Sigh. Incidentally, the New York Times ran this article today, which confirms the market news we were given by the apartment office on why the rates went up so drastically.

On a happier note, one of my former roommates from college sent me a belated birthday gift! Look at what she made:


Needless to say, I'm very impressed. The glaze has a watercolor-like quality to it, especially the gradations of pink on the inside. I need to find some kind of hands-on art classes or projects -- not necessarily pottery, but something that will give the creative part of my brain new ground to explore. Maybe that will stimulate the essay writing neurons again; of late they've been burned out. Or whenever I get some thoughts going, they peter out again when I start to jot things down. Frustrating.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Habit-ational attachments


Because it's close to the mountains. Because the bathroom is nice. Because the doors aren't hollow. Because of the gas stove.

There are so many reasons why I don't want to move out of this apartment at the end of this month.

We didn't expect that to be under consideration in our summer plans, but we just found out from the apartment office that our rent will be raised considerably if we renew our lease because of the sudden market demand for rental units. It seems there are people lining up to get into places like these now that the mortgage crisis is forcing homeowners to abandon their real estate. It figures.

We're getting a one-time discount on next month's rent as a concession for the construction noise we have to put up with for probably the next year (there's another set of units going up behind us). This is nowhere near what we were discounted when we first signed (for the same issue), but because there are fifteen potential lessees anxiously hoping to take our place, it's not really negotiable. Not that the noise is actually that bothersome, but hey, anything to save a little more.

D is pushing me to think about our looking into a smaller, cheaper apartment here for the next year so we can keep saving what we've been saving toward a downpayment on a home and, hopefully, some nice upgrades on it to boost its resale value. But how small are we going to have to go in order to make the move worthwhile? As it is, we're stuffed pretty tightly into this place (you've seen the closet). Any reduction in square footage is going to mean putting some things in storage somewhere -- which certainly won't be free.

Beyond that, there's the issue of building quality. The place we have is decently constructed and finished with newer appliances and fixtures. Last summer, we saw places that were much older and smaller, downright shoddy in their assembly -- and more expensive. Somehow I doubt they've resisted raising their rent rates either.

There's the option of taking on a roommate (say, a coworker of D's), which D has also suggested. This will also mean putting things in storage (a roommate will likely come with duplicate furniture). Add to this the awkwardness of having to share common space as a married couple with someone who will probably want to host video game nights and do the sorts of all-guy things that I'm really not inclined to take part in when I'm visiting on already too-short weekends or during holiday breaks. This arrangement is clearly suboptimal.

"But you'll hardly be here for most of the year anyway," D points out.

Yes, this is true. But each time in the past months of our separation that I've walked through the door into this space, it has been home. A haven at the end of a journey, a sanctuary where I can relax. Not just because it contains the familiar -- sounds, smells, belongings -- but also because it's occupied only by someone familiar. Someone I can wear rumply pajamas around, someone I'm so comfortable with that being asked to clean up my crap or asking him to do the same isn't awkward. Someone who understands why I prefer to work out in private. Someone whose daily routine is already melded and entwined with mine, so that the pas de deux we perform as we get ready for the day or retire for the night is second nature, even after my extended absence. I need the habit in our cohabitation. With a stranger in the mix, it's bound to change.

So if we are to stay here, it means the savings have to come from somewhere else. Call more, fly less? I'm willing to entertain this option; D is less enthusiastic. As it is, plane ticket prices have ballooned and probably won't come down in the near future.

Why am I going through with this master's program again? In the face of these new developments, I don't know if we can afford it anymore.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Trailblazing

What a weekend.

It was cloudy but dry Saturday morning, so we packed a picnic lunch and headed for one of the state parks outside the city to explore some hiking trails. No, we didn't end up renting bikes -- it was too expensive, we decided, and picking them up would have added some extra driving to the cost (gas is $4.40 per gallon!). So we climbed a small mountain instead and got a nice workout all the same. My hip flexors can still feel it today! Whew.

The trails we used were moderately well-maintained except in a few places where the overgrowth was up past my waist (where's a machete when you need one?). We managed a six-mile loop (about 2,000 vertical feet) in four hours with a stop for lunch. By the end of it, we were quite muddy, but it was worth it for all the fresh air and the peaceful sound of the streams that occasionally crossed our path.

Most of the sights didn't vary much, but the vegetation did change as we got higher. The lower areas were carpeted by ferns that looked like giant carrot tops poking out of the earth, which made me feel like I had wandered into rabbit heaven by accident; the upper ones had holly and more fir trees. At all elevations we came across some interesting fungi that grew out of the sides of tree trunks as if the trees were sticking fat fleshy tongues out at us.

The highlight of the day was the nest of birds we discovered inside one of those trunks. The energetic chirping stopped me on the path next to it, but I couldn't see where the noise was coming from. D walked up to a crack in the bole and realized there were babies inside. An adult with something in its beak landed on a branch not far away and echoed the same call that was coming from the tree, so we stepped back and waited. Sure enough, the bird circled the trunk, slipped through the crack and dropped whatever it was holding inside. Then it zipped back out and disappeared.

Sunday's explorations were more suburban (and thankfully did not involve much walking since we were a bit sore). We didn't find the nest of our dreams (as expected this early in the house-hunting process), but we did learn a lot about the realtors we chose to try out. The first one, who drove us around to the homes we had asked her to show us, was pretty astute -- she had previewed all of the places earlier in the week and pointed out things she thought we might not like about them (but in a way that suggested that they were details to consider bringing up in negotiations, not that they were total dealbreakers). Then she zeroed in on our reactions as we toured each house, observing what we focused on even if we didn't comment out loud. It was almost a little unnerving, but it showed us that she had an eye for detail and was experienced in reading people. The second realtor, on the other hand, did a much more perfunctory job -- not really trying to assess what our tastes were and just talking up the properties in a slightly too transparent sales-minded way. In fact, she talked down about one residence when comparing it to another we were looking at (I can't imagine what its owners would have thought had they heard her). Like they say about job interviews, don't ever be openly negative about former places you've been ...

All in all, quite the learning experience.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Wheel we or won't we?

It depends, as they say, on the weather.

D and I took a lovely trip to San Francisco for our birthdays a year and a few months ago (that week also happened to coincide with a conference and employment fair that unexpectedly yielded D his current job). While we were there, we rented some bikes and pedaled along the coast, ending with an exhilarating ride across the Golden Gate Bridge. I think I grinned like a small child the entire time, which is saying a lot. I'm not normally an effusively grinny person, and certainly not in the euphoric sense. People who know me would be quicker to use words like "ironic" (or, if they wanted to be blunt, "cynical" and "sarcastic") to describe my usual brand of humor. I try to keep that more in check here -- it's too easily misinterpreted no matter how many emoticons one might use to convey tone, etc. -- but in person, I fall more into the camp of those who appreciate the art of cracking wise. Though not unkindly.

All this is to say that if it's sunny tomorrow, we might get to go biking again, and I'm excited.

We've had rain nearly every day in the last week, but the sky has been dry for the last 48 hours. The locals have been complaining about the cold and the wet that have dogged this area all spring -- I don't mind it at all; I'm so spoiled to have 60-degree temps when the rest of the country is sweltering -- but it would be nice if the precipitation holds off for another day so we can have this outing.

It would also be nice if the weather would give some relief to Iowa and the rest of the Midwest! I've been keeping an eye on my home away from home, and the flood reports are dire. I've been lucky so far; my building is located on a sizable hill, so the danger of water damage isn't imminent (I called the apartment manager this morning to get a status report). Many of the city's main thoroughfares, however, are completely submerged. Whole neighborhoods have been evacuated, and it doesn't look like the water levels are going to go down until next week -- if the storms subside for a few days.

On a lighter note, D took the personality test that I tried yesterday, and it turns out that we are almost complete opposites (not surprising). He's extroverted, intuitive, thinking, and judging (ENTJ), which means we're a very good balance for each other. But we're also methodologically divergent when it comes to problem solving, which could suggest an increased chance for tiffs in that arena. No relationship gets to be blissful all the time -- judging by how we've done over the years, I think the balance we bring each other trumps the occasional flare-up pretty well. And we're definitely counting on that to get through next year's commute.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Time for a little introspection

The quest for personal direction continues -- in the form of personality typing.

Click to view my Personality Profile page

I took a version of this test several years ago when I was teaching in New York, and I think my profile may have changed since then. I suppose that's possible. I was originally introverted, sensing, thinking, and judging (ISTJ); now "thinking" has been replaced with "feeling" (not by a huge margin, but it suggests a real shift all the same). This is good. I don't mean that who I was before was bad, but I think I'm happier as the person I am today. And if being more of a "feeling" person rather than a "thinking" one is responsible for that, I'm content. I have a feeling (no pun intended) that deciding to get up close and personal this year with who I am in my writing allowed that change to happen. Even if it was uncomfortable much of the time.

The ISFJ profile on the test website lists possible career matches, some of which are amusing. Others are eerily consistent with things I seriously considered as a kid (before all the practical career advice was heaped on me in high school/college). Maybe interior decorating isn't entirely out of my future ...

Speaking of interiors, D and I are going on our first realtor-accompanied visits to a few homes this weekend. We met some realtors last weekend when we went on an open-house tour and decided to let two of them do private showings for us on Sunday morning. Then we'll hit a couple more open houses in the afternoon in some neighborhoods we haven't gotten to see yet. Just one day of checking out the conditions of different places at various price points was extremely informative. We now have a basic feel for what is grossly overpriced and what will require significant remodeling to make it suit our needs and tastes (apparently windows are very expensive to update). While we'd both enjoy transforming a space into one we can truly call home, we're not looking for something that would demand a second loan (not to mention time we don't have) to renovate. We're also being careful not to get too burned out right at the start of this whole search process -- some good advice from a friend of ours who just bought her first house in Boston -- so Saturday is for us to enjoy without the mention of square footage, mortgage payments, and pre-approval letters.

My nesting instincts are buzzing with all this house talk! Maybe I really should try to tackle the office closet ...

Actually, there is some evidence that cleaning is good for boosting your mood. Check out this article. It explains, perhaps, my increasing affinity for all things tidy.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Confessions of a workaholic

You know you're avoiding something when taking a crack at this mess suddenly becomes an attractive use of your time.

It has been exactly three weeks since I woke up on the first morning of my summer vacation here. And despite vociferous protests from the Type A part of my brain, I've heeded the advice of several of you who witnessed the craziness of this last semester and have deliberately ignored the impulse to "do something productive" during this break. But I think my defenses are cracking.

I know. I'm supposed to be figuring out what I really want out of my life to make me happy. I'm supposed to be finding real ways to relax. This means not focusing on "the Plan" as it was originally laid out -- to get this master's degree and then launch myself into an energetic search for a professorship or editorial position. It means not worrying about what will happen if for a while after I graduate, we fail to become a two-income household. It means not listening to all the practical advice I was ever given on building a foundation for my future as an independently solvent woman.

It means staring spare time in the face and deciding what to do with it. Which is not the same as deciding what not to do with it. The latter is all I've really accomplished, I think. Don't enter last month's receipts into the budget spreadsheet. Don't research where to send essays for publication. Don't do anything that could be construed as work. Don't worry about how much time I'm "wasting."

I've knocked off the easy stuff on the List of Ways to Relax -- sleeping in and reading to my heart's content and just being in the same space as D every evening and every weekend. And while that has been very good, the Type A part of my brain has been feeling so deprived of activity that I find myself guiltily breaking from my vacation regimen (it's like cheating on a diet!) just to appease its hunger. It started with loading a few plates into the dishwasher during mornings last week. Then there was that one load of laundry that turned into three, all of it neatly folded -- and then the toilet that was so conveniently in need of disinfecting right before my shower on Saturday (I had to get squeaky, so why not the loo too?). Then yesterday, I cleaned the kitchen and before I could stop myself, the dining and living rooms as well.

Today, though, was the clincher. I opened the door to our office closet and actually considered giving it the full-on reorganization it desperately needs (see photo). Fortunately, the boxes are stacked so high that I can't get them down without D's help. There's also the risk of having something heavy whack me on the head if I try to get the items at the bottom of the pile out, so for now, the contents of the closet are safe.

I didn't intentionally go into the closet to try to sort through all the random junk we've collected. I was, in fact, searching for a piece of embroidery that I started four summers ago and never finished. But clearly, even my pursuit of new (or renewed) forms of relaxation is only revealing other ways to deviate from my plan to get rest and get happy or else.

D says he'll help me find the embroidery. I think I may have discovered another project for myself, though, that veers dangerously into cleaning territory: putting our stuff on eBay. We've intended to do this since last summer's move, but we haven't made time. I now have tons of it, and if real estate prices here are an indication of the space we can afford, I need to clear out some of our possessions. At the very least, it'll make our current place less cramped, which is definitely key to creating an environment conducive to R&R.

I admit, it's a compromise. But maybe it'll keep my brain satisfied enough that I'll be able to think about what I really need to be happy. Not in five years, but right now. Besides, if completely squelching the Type A in me makes me miserable, then the rest of this is moot, no?

Friday, June 6, 2008

Home again, home again, figgity fig

After a little search on the internet, D and I found a recipe for fig bread that we tried last night. We left out the dates, but we can add them next time. And there will definitely be a next time. This bread is full of figgy goodness, scrumptious all by itself. We couldn't wait till breakfast to taste-test our experiment (the aroma was too tempting), so we sliced off a piece to share as a midnight snack.
Surprisingly, the Splenda we substituted for sugar did not dry out the bread (probably because it was proportionally small to the rest of the ingredients). I attempted to make brownies from scratch with Splenda and got a much chewier result than I had anticipated (that recipe asked for a lot of sugar relative to anything else). Something to remember for future trials. D has reactive hypoglycemia, so I'm constantly on the lookout for ways to make goodies that he normally can't eat much of.

We have a few figs left, so we'll use them on pizza this weekend (another recipe that made us hungry). It is so unusual having two people to cook for. We're actually planning meals before we go grocery shopping! The variety is very welcome. When you're cooking for one, bulk items that produce lots of leftovers (casseroles, soups) are easier, but you eventually do get tired of the same thing day after day.


Tuesday, June 3, 2008

To market, to market

... to spy a fat pig!

Okay, not really, but these porkers are all over downtown Seattle. This one in particular watches over Pike Place Market, which we wandered through on Sunday to pick out a "fun ingredient," as D calls it. We decided to do this about once a week for the summer -- going to a local grocery or produce stand to find something interesting to build a meal around (or at the very least a central dish). This expedition landed us some plump little Calimyrna figs. More news to come on what we do with them.


The market was overrun (even more than usual) because it happened to be the weekend of the Pike Place Market Street Festival. We managed to weave through the crowds without stepping on any toes. Maybe next time we come down, we'll bring the cooler and get some seafood from the famous fish counter where the men working the stand juggle orders (literally). The masses were a bit thick -- attracted, no question, to the fish-flinging act -- and getting a good look at the merchandise would have required more elbowing than we were inclined to try.


In other projects of the moment: we drove around Mercer Island for the first time. Mercer Island is the home of the top rated school districts in all of Washington (and thus, some prime real estate), and a random internet search of properties for sale there turned up some scary prices a few months ago. D and I figured we probably had no hope of buying a house in this part of Seattle. But on the off chance that there was a bungalow we might stumble upon, we took a tour around the island on the way back from the market. Believe it or not, we found something. It's not for sale, as far as we can tell, but this is proof that even people of modest means can have their square footage there:


Based on what we've seen for more standard size homes out there, we're estimating the value of this place to be $400,000. (And that is why we'll be looking elsewhere for a home ... )