The perfect weekend.

Ever have one of those perfect spring weekends? Well, I'm wrapping mine up right now.

I woke up early on Saturday and after walking over to work to take care of a few things, I strolled over to Boyfriend's house. We decided we would head downtown to the new creperie for breakfast. We were walking down the street past our friend, Con Man's house when he stuck his head at the window and said he'd be right down because like it or not, he was coming with us. But that's okay because we did like it.

The creperie was not open yet, damn them, so it was off to Martan's. Best spicy mexican hangover breakfast ever which was good for Con Man was indeed sporting a headache. We did a little shopping, I ran into Matt Hall, author/singer/cartoonist/nicest guy ever, and he handed me a bundle of freshly-picked beets from fellow singer, Chuck Cheeseman. Home to put the beets in the fridge and then the three of us went and laid in the grass in a park. This is where we lamented the fact we didn't have any white wine but wrote the poem entitled "In the park on Saturday drunk on white without our shoes."

Then I had to go to work but only for two hours and when I returned, Boyfriend and Con Man were in the same damn spot, sound asleep. I thought they had been there the whole time but they had actually gone to get a beer and come back. I rather pointedly stated that I was now indeed a beer behind. So off to the patio at FBC where we spent the rest of the afternoon drinking beer and philosophizing.

Evening. We all headed off to our respective abodes where we put on warmer clothing then back to the creperie for dinner. I was crazy and got a dessert crepe for dinner. It was just that sort of day. Then, and here is the part I consider the best, we went to the Orpheum to drink beer and watch the quintessential 80's movie, Caddyshack. Did I mention how much I love movie venues that have a bar? Boyfriend, Con Man and I commerated the event by standing on our chairs and doing the gopher dance to Kenny Loggins at the closing credits. There was applause for our efforts.

Perfect Saturday. Good beer buzz going most of the day. Good company. Good laughs. And the gopher dance. What more could I want for?

Then today, Sunday, was a great hike through Pumphouse Wash. Lot of butterflies, lizards and two really cool toads. A nap in the sun on a large chimney rock with a tree growing out of it. Warm weather, cool breeze.

And for upcoming dinner? Steak on the grill, potatoes, cucumber salad and of course, beets. Even better, Boyfriend is cooking this while I work on my final for my class (meaning it will be over soon) and drink a nice unfiltered apricot hefeweizen.

Sometimes you are at stress level 10 and ready to throw in the towel and a magic weekend like this comes along to make it all better. I am reborn, upcoming work week. Bring it.

I can hardly contain myself.

Most important news: I'M GOING TO HAVE A DISHWASHER!
Only slightly less important news: I'M MOVING IN WITH BOYFRIEND!

But let's get back to the first part though. Dishwasher, people. Boyfriend and I have found a place to rent together after literally months of searching. It is perfect. Three bedrooms, count 'em, three. Did I mention the dishwasher? I've never had a dishwasher. I'm going to spend the first whole week washing dishes. Even the clean ones.

It's a perfect location. Work, grocery store, the new creperie and the farmer's market in the summer are all within walking distance. It's got a small backyard with the perfect place for a hammock. It's got a garage. Yep, I feel like the Jeffersons cuz I'm movin' on up!

I am one excited cookie! Look for a housewarming party mid to late June.

Thank God Almighty, a creperie at last!!!!!

Yes, it's true. Our quaint little town has become like Paris in the mountains. Boyfriend and I were strolling hand in hand through our historic downtown area in pursuit of lunch when we came across a sign, nay, a veritable heaven-sent beacon. It said "Old Town Creperie" and pointed down the alley. Now boyfriend and I tend to follow orders (much like the Jumping Frenchmen of Maine...look that one up. Well worth your time.) So down the alley we went and there, like Nirvana only with a griddle, was the creperie. Granted it is in an alley and faces the public restrooms where the junkies go for a fix but still, people, it's a creperie offering both sweet crepes and (dare I say it) savory. I had the "Lyon" and Boyfriend had the "Roast Chicken and Spinach". They were tres magnifique!

Boyfriend wrote a poem:
(Be sure to read aloud with bad french accent.)

Oh creperie. Oh creperie.
Your crepes are so thin and papery.
I could wear them just like drapery.

Fini.

(Feel free to applaud.)

I must go now and buy a beret.

Overheard Quote of the Day

My sister just called me to report the quote of the day. She was walking into a thrift store and there were two college-aged men walking out and one said into his cell phone:

"Dude, I just got the best deal. I found a huge Don Quixote picture for six bucks!"

My sister was calling to inquire as to whether or not this was a good deal. I informed her that anything quixotic for under a ten spot was indeed a gonga!

Night Terrors

Had a job interview yesterday that, to put a fine point on it, determined whether or not I wasted the last ten years of my life. That's how long I've been working part-time with no benefits waiting for my dream job to come up.

I have no idea how the interview went and won't for two more weeks but I will tell you this. When I went to sleep last night, I dreamt my phone rang and when I answered it, the woman who will reveal the outcome of the interview, Gail, was on the other end. She said "We regret to inform you...." so I hung up on her. I tried to walk out my door and there she was saying, "to inform you that you.."and I slammed the door. Then I raised the blinds on the window and there she was saying, "that you have unfortunately not..."and I lowered the blinds. Everywhere I went, there she was. In the microwave, in the refrigerator, in the closet. I woke up with my heart pounding.

Then I went back to sleep and when I got up in the morning, I couldn't move. Had pulled, from what I can tell from Gray's Anatomy, my Serratus Posterior Inferior muscle in my back. Don't know if it's the result of stress or if I was running in my sleep.

I will be soooooo glad when this is over. Stay tuned.

When I Find Myself in Times of Trouble...

I've developed a stress-induced tic. I have roughly about one zillion things going on right now. Job interviews, quitting the other job, the boy and I are house hunting, endless commitments at the library with looming deadlines. Did I mention finals coming up in a class that I couldn't even begin to tell you what it is about? Lots on the ol' plate, people. The pressure is almost unbearable. And now I find my right eyelid has been spasming for nigh on 3 weeks now.

There is, however, one thing that helps. It's storytime. Gather round, kids.

Many years ago, my life hit one of those delightful spots where everything goes to hell in a handbasket. Yes, I know, I brought it on myself but my life was in shambles and I had to do something. So I was standing in the yard of a downtrodden little house where I had resided. Near me was the U-haul that held all my earthly belongings for I was about to embark on a journey. It would take me far from all that I held dear but I was determined to go in a misguided attempt to make things right. I was terrified. I stood in the yard next to the grape hyacinth and yellow tulips that looked out of place in the run down yard and in my life. In front of me, (angelic music) stood my father. He had pulled me away from my friends and family who had come to see me off. I remember I was facing north and if the trees hadn't been in the way, the San Francisco Peaks would have been over his right shoulder. He said, in his heavy southern drawl, these words to me, "Go there and live for yourself. You are beholden to no one."

My first thought was "Is beholden really a word and did Daddy use it right?" My second thought was "What the hell is going on? Daddy doesn't talk like that." My third thought was "Holy %$*&. That was the most wonderful, comforting, freeing phrase I have ever heard in my whole life." Daddy was like a god in my eyes and to have him give me permission to be selfish for one second was like the weight of the world being lifted off my shoulders. Go ahead, try it, imagine yourself not owing anyone a damn thing. He made it look so easy. He made it look like it had been easy all along, if I had only known.

I lost Daddy to cancer last August. The intensity with which I miss him daily is astounding to me. But in times like this, and I know it's cliche, I can literally hear him saying that to me.

I'll be damned if it doesn't stop the tic every time. I am beholden to no one.

Pomeroy Blues

You will see many tales of hiking on this blog and that is because that's pretty much what my boyfriend and I do with our free time. (My boyfriend is Sweaterman on the Pygalgia blog. Take a look if you are in the mood for fantastic rants.)

This weekend's hike was short and sweet. Pomeroy Tanks to Sycamore Falls and back. About 2 miles round trip. What struck me was the lack of water in the tanks. Thank you, global warming. Usually, the tanks are full and the river runs down and tumbles over the falls which is a fine site to behold, but not this year. River wasn't even running. I know it's still early in the year but it should definitely be higher water. Sigh.

Animals sited: A few fish, one screaming frog, several lizards (two of which were very angry) and a weird but pretty beatle.

Items found: One pink arrowhead.

Threat of death: Mike being nearly trampled by 14 Europeans dressed as cowboys on horseback.

All right, fine, but I won't like it.

Fine, bloggers, you win. I'm here. I've been resisiting the blogging bug, but honestly I just got really sick of repeating stories.

And I'm beginning with this much-repeated story. Last Friday, quit one of my jobs. I'd just had it. Walked into my supervisor's office and quit. (Okay, I gave two weeks notice but that's because I'm horribly considerate.) Granted, I'm interviewing for a full time position at the library this week but it's not a done deal. Yep. Quit. My. Job. Followed it shortly by a two-hour attack of blinding panic and picking out what box I want to live in, but now I'm feeling pretty good about it. Amazing what quitting your job can do for your Monday morning outlook. I highly recommend it.