Brindle Honey

It's a little after noon when we pull into a leaf-shaded spot around the corner from our destination.  The elusive north-western sun is out, warm and comforting on my shoulders as we walk to the shop, but it's doing nothing to soothe the fizzing in my bloodstream.  It feels like someone poured pop-rocks into my veins,  a sensation which is, perhaps understandably, not helping my nerves.

We walk in, Nathan full of confidence, me full of shy supplication for gods that are not yet my own.  This is a Him Place, the same way that a rock gym is a Me Place.  My husband knows he has every right to be here- more right, perhaps, that some of the salespeople- and he immediately glides off to track down our quarry.  I, on the other hand, approach one of the salespeople, who greats me with a polite smile and a, "Is there anything I can help you find?"

"I'm looking for a Taylor GS Mini," I say, hoping I've said it right and not like a tool; hoping that he can't hear the shake in my voice.  The man's smile turns into a grin, and he gestures with his chin to my husband across the room.

"Looks like he's already found it for you,"

A familiar chord progression reaches my ears, and I see that yes, of course Nathan has already found it.  He's strumming the spruce-top, but that's alright because I've had my eye on the mahogany top, anyway.

The guitar settles into my arms as though made for me, her curves matching mine, her neck obligingly slender beneath my smaller hands.  We are a small and quiet counterpoint to Nathan's bold declarations of mastery: an unusual role for me, but not unpleasant.

An hour later I am torn between the mahogany and the spruce.  I prefer the warmer, quieter tone of the mahogany- I think it's better suited for my style- but aesthetically speaking the spruce is a prettier instrument.  And I do like the bright shimmer she brings to the upper range.  In the end I flip a coin, to make sure of what I've already decided.  It comes up heads and I smile: mahogany is confirmed, golden tone winning out over visual appeal.

The salesman starts to offer me the display guitar, but Nathan intervenes.  "Do you have any others?" he asks.

"Sure," says the man.  "But they're still in boxes in the back."

"Do you want one no one else has played?"  Nathan asks me.

"Yes please," I say, secretly thrilling at him acting the protector.  "Plus I think it would be fun to unbox her."

"No problem," says the salesman, and disappears.

When we get home I slice open the box, remove the packaging, and draw out the padded case that holds my new instrument.  I lay it down carefully, unzip it...

And we both gasp.

She is beautiful.

Both examples of the mahogany top that we'd seen before now were a warm but dull brown, uniform in shade and utterly unremarkable in appearance.  They looked so plain that it hurt a little part of my artist's sole.  But this gorgeous girl has iridescent stripes of honey and amber, like a tiger's eye.

"Oh wow," says Nathan, voice reverent.

I draw her out of the case and cradle her to my heart, feeling as though my novitiate faith has been rewarded.

I am calling her Brindle Honey, and she is Mine.

The Living is Easy

Today was the first Day Off I've had in a long time.

"What are you talking about, Jenny O?" You might say.  "You work a corporate job, regular hours M-F.  You get weekends, like, every week."

While that is, strictly speaking, true, it is also true that days off from work do not necessarily equal Days Off.  Capital D, capital O (you know what I'm talking about, don't pretend you don't).  Yeah, last weekend I went down to Smith with a group of friends, and we did some kick ass climbing, but it wasn't exactly relaxing.  And the weekend before that I was in Seattle, visiting Lara in the hospital- again, not exactly leisurely.  And, generally speaking, even those weekends in the previous month where I was not driving somewhere or committed to some event, I was doing what I usually do with my weekend, which is clean the house/do laundry/work in the garden/catch up on writing assignments.

And yesterday we drove up to Tacoma for my ten year reunion, which, while fun and awesome, was (say it with me) not leisurely.

It's mainly my own fault, of course.  I'm the one who always feels like I need to be Doing Something in my free time (a neurosis which must be carefully monitored whenever Nathan and I go on vacation), as though I'm somehow being a person of weak moral character if I'm not being productive in some way, shape or form.  And really, when the hell else am I going to get the chores done?  (More on this problem in a subsequent entry.)

So yeah, I occasionally have a difficult time taking a true Day Off.

Which is why I was pretty proud of myself for saying "yes" last week when KB suggested a trip to the "beach" today.  I packed up a towel and some sunscreen, and one adventurous pig, and the three of us went out and did exactly nothing for like four whole hours (Nathan was off on his own photography jaunt).  I got sun.  On my skin.  It was awesome.  We took Isis for a long walk along the river, we laid out and discussed KB's upcoming nuptials, we splashed around in the water with Isis, who discovered the dubious joys of swimming.  It was thoroughly unproductive, and thoroughly satisfying.  Then we came back to the 'Couve, dropped Isis off, and met up with JT and his wife to do a little gym-climbing, and I finally, finally got lead-certified, which was also highly satisfying.

The important part of this photo is the green lead card attached to my harness.  And, perhaps, the ridiculous expression on my face.

(Of course, today's session also made me realize I seriously need to work on my strength and endurance, but meh...)

Nathan picked me up from the gym and I got home and do you know what I did?  Not a single damn chore, that's for sure!  Mostly I'm just sort of basking in the general Summer Vacation feeling that's stolen over me, only if for a night.

Threes

They say bad things happen in threes.

On Thursday, Isis was bitten at the dog park.  We didn't realize it until we got home and took off her harness, and saw the blood flow.  I cleaned the wound (my first encounter with a dog bite) and discovered that the puncture was about the size of the final digit on my pinkie.  We decided we'd take her to the vet in the morning, and in the meantime I put antibiotic cream in the wound (which she did not like, but put up with, poor puppy).

Friday morning, Nathan took Isis to the vet, and I went to work.  After work, I went to the acupuncturist, and after that I saw I had an email from my credit card company, questioning a charge.  I called them up and told them that no, in fact I had not tried to purchase $400 worth of Abercrombie & Fitch.  In New York.  So of course they cancelled my cards and because it was Friday evening, my new ones won't be here until Wendesday.

Here, have a worthless credit card number.

Did I mention we're traveling today?  And that it was my main household card?  That all my auto-pays are connected to?

This morning we woke up and I started the carefully-balanced process of getting ready for my ten year college reunion (looking cute without trying to hard, right?).  I brushed my teeth and thought to myself, Oh, I should brush my engagement ring, too, so that it will be extra shiny when I show it off to my friends!

Grabbed the ring... and dropped it.  Stone down.  At just the wrong angle.

Feldspar is considerably softer than diamond.

So.  Bad things happen in threes.

But.

Good things also happen in threes.

Isis got staples from the vet and they told us we did exactly the right thing in cleaning and treating it the night before.  She's none the worse for wear, and will have a new, roguish scar to impress the other puppies.

Also it turns out she's 70lbs now.

My credit card company denied the attempted A&F charge (and the subsequent PetCo attempt) because they felt pretty positive it wasn't us.  So the thief didn't actually benefit from our loss.

My engagement ring is insured.  We can replace the stone.  But even if we couldn't, it wouldn't matter- because my marriage is not based on a piece of jewelry.

Our puppy is safe.

Our finances are safe.

We are safe.

Good, good things.

Where She Went

So my life got a little... intense, over the last two weeks.

Let me back up to Monday the sixth.

Near on to midnight I get a text from Chris, my best friend Lara's husband.  (Perhaps you remember them?)  He is laying on the floor of a hospital chapel, dealing with the fact that Lara, who had gone in for a routine surgery the Friday before, is now undergoing emergency surgery to repair a perforated bowel.  A perforated bowel, in case you are not familiar with the fantasy or military genres, is kind of a big deal.  As in, it can kill you.  Painfully.

"Is there anything you need?  I can come up if you want," I say, and I mean it. We exchange a few more texts, and I add, "Keep me posted on what you and she need.  I'll come up if you want me (either of you) or wait if that's better."  He tells me he'll let me know.

May ninth (you might recognize this as the date I stop reporting on my "ReDetox" progress), he gets in touch with me to say he "might need" my help over the weekend.  Needless to say, I clear my schedule, arrange for Isis to be boarded, and Nathan and I head up Friday night after work.  We drive straight to the hospital, and are given the eerie, 2330 tour.  Lara is in that twilight-sleep of the Well and Truly Drugged, but seems pleased to see me nonetheless.

I spend all day Saturday with Lara, doing those things that best friends are good for (washing her hair, watching girly movies, cracking terrible jokes, that sort of thing) while Nathan helps Chris move from their old apartment to their new house.  Oh, didn't I mention that?  Yeah, they're in the middle of a move.  Perfect timing for emergency surgery.

Lara's spirits are really good on Saturday, and she seems to be doing better physically, as well- but all that goes downhill on Sunday.  Swiftly.  I'd been planning on coming home on Sunday night, but Lara asks me to stay- and I want to, because things just seem wrong.  I send Nathan home with a kiss and a promise to find my own way back, eventually.  Then come the results of another  CT scan: two additional holes have appeared in Lara's intestines, and her doctor recommends she be moved to a larger hospital where she can have a team of specialists perform yet another emergency surgery.  Like, now.  Unfortunately, however, the soonest a bed can be made available is 1100 the next day, and so it is not until Monday afternoon that we settle into new digs.  The small, shared room is made even more crowded by the much-anticipated arrival of Lara's parents, whom I have not seen in years.

The surgery lasts about three hours- maybe four.  It's sort of a blur.  But one memory is crystal clear: Chris and I have booked a hotel room together, and I am laying back on the bed, feeling the strangest sensation of peace, as though I'm floating free of all attachments.  Honestly, I feel a little drunk- but in a euphoric way.

"It's going to be okay," I say, and I know that it is, with the same surety that I know oxygen is expanding my lungs.  Now, I acknowledge that it may in fact be my mind-body connection finally shutting down in the face of all the stress of the previous week, but even so...

We make our way back over the the waiting area of the hospital, and when the doc comes in I can tell from her expression that it is okay.  She is obviously exhausted, herself- she sits down in a chair and fills us in on everything that occurred, but she is also optimistic in a very matter-of-fact way.  Two more hours go by, and finally we get to see Lara again- drugged out of her gourd, but very much alive.  I find that I can't touch her enough, but I make myself leave, giving her and Chris some precious alone time.

Tuesday dawns, and we spend the morning meeting the team of people who will be spending the next few weeks helping Lara recover enough to leave the hospital.  I finally feel like it will be okay for me to return home, and so I book myself a train ticket, and around 1645 Chris walks me the mile to the station.

I sleep as much as I can on the three hour trip home, curled awkwardly across two seats, and I fall into bed shortly after getting to the house.  I spend the next several days trying to get back to "normal", but it is slow going, and even today I find myself sort of residually exhausted.

But my best friend is alive, and as far as I'm concerned, I've never felt better.

ReDetox: Day Eight (or: Enter the Cravings)

Wellllll they finally hit.  The cravings.  The cranky-making cravings for harmful-foods.  And I straight up choose to blame NewBoss, because he microwaved cheese-and-bean burritos for lunch and they smelled like heaven to me.

::sigh::

But then my dinner kicked some swift and serious ass, so that's okay:

Barramundi!

It was one of those, "What do we have available?" sorts of dinners.  I knew we had a base line of "fish and salad", because I'd written such on the meal plan, but we had no idea what we were going to do with "fish and salad".

As it turns out, Nathan slathered the fish with lime juice, cardamom, and sumac and threw it on the grill (that's the sumac making it such a lurid pink), while I threw together a bunch of avocados, cumin, lime juice, cilantro, and green onions, and mashed them up to serve on top of the fish.  Then we tossed some baby carrots and mandarin slices into a butter lettuce salad, and finished it off with an oil-and-vinegar (olive and apple cider, respectively) dressing (further flavored with salt, pepper, garlic, parsley, cardamom and sumac).

It was shockingly delicious for a meal that started with, "I don't know, what do we have on hand?" and took less than half an hour to put together.

ReDetox: Day Seven (or: Reconstruct My Deconstruction)

Dinner tonight was kabobs:

Made by Nathan, because he is The Best.

Specifically, dinner tonight was pork, apple, and onion kabobs.  If that sounds an awful lot like it might have its roots in dinners from earlier this week, well... you're not wrong.

Anyway.

The best part of today was going over to Crystal's house to play.

Crystal makes jewelry.  Not just any jewelry, mind you- totally kick ass jewelry that has its origins in old pocket watches, butterflies, sea horses, and thousands of tiny sparkly crystals.  Amongst many other wondrous curiosities that send me in to wriggles of delight.  She has told me on multiple occasions that I am welcome to bring over bits and pieces and she will help me turn them into Awesome, so today I finally took her up on it.

Amongst the little treasures I took over was a cameo that belonged to my paternal grandmother.

CLOSE UP

I'm not really one for brooches, myself, but I do like cameos, and so I'd kept this one.  I figured Crystal would have ideas on how to turn it into a necklace.

She totally did.

"This needs green," was the first thing she said, touching the warm orange background.  "Don't you think this needs green?"

It only escalated from there.

"We could get crazy," she said, that special Frenetic Artist Gleam in her eyes.  "We could... it might be too much, but... it could be awesome..." she rummaged in a little sack and produced a tiny ivory something with a triumphant flourish.  "I have camels!"

I gasped.

"Yes!  It totally needs a camel!"

It delighted me beyond reason to utilize a camel in a piece of jewelry that has to do with my grandmother, because she was such a world-traveler.  I knew she would utterly approve of turning a conservative cameo brooch into a flamboyant piece of wearable art.

Crystal took better pictures, but I couldn't wait to share...

Cheers to you, Jimmie, one year after embarking on the Greatest Adventure of all...

ReDetox: Days Five and Six (or: Under Pressure)

Yesterday was a gorgeous day, temps in the eighties and not a cloud in the sky.  So what was I doing?

Cleaning the house.

And then I looked around at all my animals and saw that they were every one of them sleeping in the sun, so I went outside to clean the house.

Which is to say, I pressure-washed the fence.  Behold the glorious difference:

Gentle Readers, life in the PNW does lend itself towards mold.

It took me about two hours to do the whole thing, at which point I felt I'd earned the right to read in the shade for a while, which I did.

Dinner was New York strip and roasted cauliflower (seasoned with salt, pepper, and parsley).  It was obscenely tasty.  Also I had my first craving- it was for honey, of course.  But no crankiness yet.

Today's Grand Adventure was putting my brand new lead climbing skills to good use*.  KB and I spent a good two hours working the overhang, and by the end of it I was exhausted.  Hell, by the end of the first route I was pretty damn tired.  Overhang kicks my ass, because I don't boulder like I should.  Needless to say, by the end of our session I was covered in sweat, shaking, and had raw hands- but I felt amazing, way more challenged that I've been in a long time, and it was in this truly excellent mood that I made my way home to start dinner.

 Dinner was to be another sort of hash, this one served over the ever-useful spaghetti squash.
 

My Katie taught me about this tasty fellow.

No sweet potatoes or yams this time, however; I was feeling more Italian than Mexican, and that meant fresh herbs.

Rosemary!  From my very own garden!

After the spaghetti squash had gone in the oven, I warmed some olive oil on medium-high, then tossed in an onion, garlic, rosemary, and thyme.  It smelled like friggin' heaven.  Sauteed that business until the onions began to soften...

Mmm, fragrant!

...then tossed in ground beef with some salt and pepper.  Easy peasy.  Browned it up, then covered it and let it simmer for about eight minutes (because that was how long the squash had left to bake).  Once all the timers had dinged, I combined and scarfed, because I was friggin' hungry.

Photo-bombed by a pig.

And now it is well past my bedtime, but I still need to get my guitar-practice on.  Which should be interesting, considering the state of my hands...







*old school (/eidetic) readers might be saying, "Brand new?  I thought she took that class last year..." and you'd be right; I did take that class last year.  And then I almost immediately thereafter jacked up my ankle, and never really practiced what I'd learned- and so I took a refresher course this past Saturday, so as to be more useful during outdoor climbing adventures.