Brown Bears in Alaska, Moving Boxes in Greenlake

Yours truly has returned from the Great White North and gone all the way south to Moving Hell. OK, so maybe it's Moving Purgatory now. But whatever it is, it's transition and it's hard.

Things have started to get organized but there are still random pieces of furniture scattered hither and thither, and numerous unpacked boxes, which have been stored in the haunted basement for me to deal with "later" (i.e. next time I move).

I also can't find any of my clothes and currently have a "nighstand" made of unpacked boxes. (Hmm, I bet THAT'S where my clothes are!)

The dog has not adjusted well to the move and starts making an unholy racket in his crate every morning at about, oh, 5 a.m. We try to ignore him and show him who's boss, but this morning the racket got so loud I had to check on him to make sure he wasn't suffering mortal injuries.

But nooo. Once I opened the door, he trotted out healthy as can be, wagged his curly tail, and waited expectantly for me to take him on his morning walk around the neighborhood. Which I did NOT, thank you very much. I grumpily took him outside to the yard, then put him back in the torture chamber where he finally went back to sleep after another half hour of caterwauling.

Anyway, I am sorry to whine. I have many non-whiny things to say about everything. Like how stunningly beautiful and mind-blowing Alaska was. And how it was the most intense wilderness camping I've ever done in my life -- with no people around for miles, a churning ocean between you and safety, and brown bears (aka GRIZZLIES but BIGGER) hanging about nearby.

But it might have to wait for another time when I am cranky and less sleep-deprived to wax poetic about that.

I also have more to say about dogs. Like why is it so much easier to shower love ondogs than people? Even when dogs make you so mad, i.e. by waking you up at 5 a.m., you can't hold it against them and you constantly hug and kiss them and tell them how lucky you are to have found them, how they are your best buddy, how cute they are, etc. Do you know how much more often I say these things to my dog than to my boyfriend? Ahem.

And speaking of that, when you go for walks and see people with cute dogs, why can you only ask the name of the dog and not the person? WHY? And why can you pet any old cute dog that you see and not the person, even if they are cute and adorable and you want them to be your friend??

Sigh. I'm a bit lonely here north of the ship canal bridge. Can you tell I need some new friends?

Delirious in Juneau

Yes, yes, I have been gone but I'm not dead. Although I might be soon, seeing as I am Juneau, Alaska (rainy!), about to embark on a kayaking trip in Glacier Bay National Park toute solo except for the boyfriend.

You know, I wouldn't be quite so worried except for the grizzly bear factor. Although I should probably be more scared of the the moose. That is, if we don't flip over and drown and/or freeze to death in quick order, or possibly, get crushed by a calving glacier.

Things did not get off to a smooth start at the airport this morning when I *forgot* to bring the "bonus ticket" that would have allowed me to fly for free (and which I had used to secure my flight months ago), and therefore had to fork over $600 bucks if I wanted to get on my flight.

Well, naturally, I did fork it over, because you know how well I'm doing financially - hey, I still have a couple thou left on my credit card before it maxes out! I can only pray I did something smart with that bonus ticket like "file" it at home - which always gets me in trouble. Whenever I "file" something instead of leaving it on the massive pile of paperwork that generally adorns my dining room table, it disappears from my pathetic memory, which has been recently more overwhelmed than usual by MOVING.

Yes, we found a place to live that wasn't in some far-flung wasteland but in fact right in the city with plenty of room and hardwood floors and a yard and basement (albeit one with dirt floors, numerous frighteningly dark crannies that I assume house a ghost of some sort --- after all the house is almost 100 years old -- and that the pug insists on exploring every time we makde a foray into the basement. One of these days he will lead me straight to the ghost, just like in the movies, and that will be the end of things, unless of course it's a friendly ghost, but only time will tell.)

Yet-to-be-discovered ghost aside, it is a very pleasant and spacious house, except for a few minor things like, oh, the windows don't open and none of my furniture fits in it. Moving went as smoothly as moving could go, which is to say, not very, although it really only entailed one screaming fight that happened at the very end when we were both exhausted and involved me throwing 1)a bottle of all-purpose cleaner and 2)a package of dog biscuits at Dave, who luckily dodged them both.

Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes, Juneau. It is rainy and cold, much like Seattle, so I feel right at home. Mountains rise up right around the streets of downtown, which are twisty and turny and steep. There are lots of people in rubber boots as well as grizzled old men who look like sea captains. I thought flying into Seattle was scenic, but when you land in Juneau, you plunge right into a luminous gray green mountain seascape. (Is that phrase gramatically correct? I am so f*cking delirious I cannot tell.)

And yes, I am very much looking forward to our flight to Glacier Bay on a tiny plane in thick gray clouds, and perhaps a little thunder if we're lucky, thanks for asking.

I'm sorry I have no charming photos for you today of my pug in a sweater or some such thing. One day soon things will be back to normal. Maybe. Anyway, I will talk to you all when (if) I return.

xo
Rebecca

Money, Moving, Many People in One Apartment

Well! How the summer flies by. As usual, I am involved in numerous spiritually-enriching non-paying ventures while my bank account shrivels still further.

Though I have momentarily picked up a short job with my former Master, ye olde Hotel Californiasoft. The money was so alluring, that I simply couldn't turn it down.

So I tore myself away from my hip and charming new employer -- you know the one who paid me (not much) to write about toys, but, you know, who I still wanted to be with, despite his inability to support me, and trundled sadly off to prostitute myself to my old, jowly, and obscenely rich boss once more so that I could eat and feed my pug (along with his "special" friend, pictured here. Extra points if you can figure out what makes him special!)

Hopefully we'll be reunited in the future after the Master uses me one more time and I close my eyes and pretend to be somewhere else.

In other news, the demoralizing house hunt/attempt to rent out condo goes on. I have found a charming young couple to rent my place, but whether I and the boyfriend can find a place for us to live (along with pug and "special" friend) before the condo board shuts me down is another matter. Why, we showed up to an open house in a somewhat desirable neighborhood the other day only to find about 8 other young white, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed couples with applications in hand, ready to pounce! Losers.

We've gotten so desperate that we've considered such far-flung neighborhoods as "Burien" and "South Park" -- names which don't mean anything to you, but to us Seattle-centric hipsters, conjure up barren stretches of nothing but convenience stores, freeways, and worst of all, no coffee shops!

Dave has even gotten me to entertain the idea of - if you can believe this -- Bellevue! Even though I told him it would cause my soul to shrivel up and DIE to move to his hometown, because talk about a lack of cool coffee shops to hang out in (I'm sorry but Tully's and Starbucks don't count)!

However I have hope that the God of Housing will smile down upon as any day now and grant us a cute bungalow in a sweet neighborhood where the pug can poop in they backyard (instead of on my living room carpet); I have cafes to hang out in; and where Dave won't face TOO brutal commute every day.

Most likely we'll end up living right on top of each other in my little place, trying to pretend we live in some other country where people don't require tons of PERSONAL SPACE, but oh well.

xo

Rebecca

A Life of Loud Desperation

Well darlings, post-enslavement to the 9-5 workaday world, I find myself mired in all sorts of paperwork hell and not even able to pay my mortgage without the help of a credit card.

First, there's the paperwork nightmare that my unmployment claim became. I won't go into detail except to say I have had to fill out about 100 forms, am not getting any more money, and have to pay back a bunch because I turned down a job and was honest about it! (Ah yes, a job back at Geeksoft that would have made me rich and desperately unhappy. Now I am poor and desperate but not moderately happy, as much as a person can be happy anyway, when they are sinking under the weight of debt).

Then, because health insurance companies wouldn't be health insurance companies if they didn't try to SCREW you, there have been bureaucratic snafus galore with LIFEWISE, who, unbeknownst to me, cut off my health insurance due to an adminstrative error on my part and then nicely gave me a ONE-TIME REINSTATEMENT. I can only thank God I didn't get diagnosed with cancer during the time I was CUT OFF, UNBEKNOWNST TO ME, or that some other administrative error does not occur ever again so that I lose my health insurance altogether right when I do get diagnosed with cancer!

F*CKERS. If I had more than five pennies to my name, I would go after them with a lawyer (preferably a hot one with six-pack abs) but alas, I'll have to settle with sending in an "appeal" to a bunch of faceless underpaid unemployees who don't give a sh*t about anything except getting off their shift so they can stop dealing with BIG-TIME WHINERS like me.

Let's see if I can find something positive to say here. Oh but wait. I forgot to complain about my housing search and simultaneous search for a renter. That's been hell too, with all sorts of bad human behavior coming to the surface. I got two prospective tenants snatched away by a sleazy-ass landlord and nearly got $500 taken from me by a prospective landlord. All plans to move in July to the lovely townhouse in the Central District have ground to a halt for lack of someone to rent my house, meanwhile we've caused the landlord in the CD to have a nervous breakdown (not really our fault, but we can't help but feel guilty about it because we're nice people like that).

Finally! On the positive side! I'm marginally employed at the moment doing fun work that involves playing with new toys and writing about them. The dog gets to join me at the office, which is in lovely downtown Seattle, in a big loft with hardwoord floors, where we write reviews of Cabbage Patch kids (flexible but not floppy!), the Polly Pocket Ultimate Party boat (complete with personal watercraft!), and more. The dog and I don't get paid much for this (only the truly soul-sucking jobs pay a lot I've discovered, except maybe MOVIE STAR or ROCK STAR) but any money is better than the no money I've been making, and plus we feel like contributing members of society again. SO THERE.

Meanwhile, Dave and I took our inflatable dinghy kayak out for its first marine voyage last weekend and had the great pleasure of being followed by a seal named Emile for half an hour. Watch the video!

Birthday Parties and Little Dogs in Sweaters

Well darlings, it has been a crazy time. Somehow I am working very hard and making very little money. Meanwhile
(as you can see) the pug must be kept in fancy sweaters.

One thing I've learned about myself during this period of no structure is that I take on too many projects when faced with an empty schedule. TOO MANY PROJECTS THAT DON'T PAY ANYTHING BUT ARE OH-SO-SPIRITUALLY REWARDING!

But I still refuse to believe the only option for me is Hotel Californiasoft. So what if I'd actually be able to buy shoes again and get decent healthcare if I went back there?! I am going to make these OH-SO-SPIRITUALLY REWARDING jobs pay something *one* of these days and meanwhile as the pug has a sweater to wear, we are fine.

Meanwhile I have spent the last four days in a training for a girls outdoor education organization, during which I 1)camped in a leaky tent in the pouring rain 2)got in touch with my "ancestral spirits" (who said, "have you found a nice Jewish boy yet?"); identified my own oppressive role in the patriarchy; and spent time around a group of women who were so warm and and community-minded that it blew my mind.

On the one hand, I really wanted to be part of it; on the other, it made me want to run back to the world of high-tech where we each sit in our own little sterile offices with no crying or hugging or discussion of racism, sexism, ableism, heterosexism (and no performances of interpretive dance about any of the above subjects).

But seriously. The whole thing was eye-opening and intense I'm grateful that I got to go. I'll bring what I learned into all the teaching that I do.

(And, in the sprit of full disclosure, during the "ancestral sprits" exercise, I actually did conjure up visions of Bubby and Auntie and Grandma Rose and my grandfathers I never met and hung with them for a while and got all teary-eyed that they weren't around and vowed to remember and be grateful to them more often. SO THERE. See how spiritually advanced I've gotten lately?)

Oh! I almost forgot to add that I sincerely want to thank whoever is in charge of the weather department for not storming upon my rockin' birthday party, which was daringly held outdoors in late May in Dave's backyard, for lack of a better venue. Not that Dave's backyard isn't fabulous, but it is much more suited for a party in, say, August, when one might have, oh, at least a 50% chance of good weather. Despite a cold and cloudy start, the sun came out, the band rocked, little children danced, and a good time was had by all into the wee hours of the morning. Happy birthday to ME!

xo,

Rebecca

Look what the stork brought!

Darlings, forgive the extended absence but there has been a new addition to my family.

Nine years old, 18 pounds, a couple feet long, fond of wearing costumes, he has done what no man has yet inspired me to do (yet): commit.

So far, so good. My main criteria in a dog is that he sleep a lot, and on the same schedule as me, and Snuffy the Pug cooperates on that score.

He is also charming, friendly, and wins admirers everywhere he goes, despite a little propensity to pee on things. (We are working on that).

If you would like to meet him, he has some openings in his schedule coming up in between naps, obedience classes, running in circles around the house, and pooping on Seattle's busiest streetcorners. (He might even wear the devil horns for you).

In other news, I have put my darling condo up for rent and am now looking for a house to live in with the FriendThatIsaBoy.

Because, apparently, I am now completely settling down and sealing Breakup Babe in a vaccum-packed casing until it's time for the long-awaited sequel: BreakupBabe: The Nursing Home Years. (Or until another relationship goes up in flames. Whichever comes first.)

Public Libraries and Podcasts -- Who Knew??

I wanted to clue you in to two really cool things that I've discovered lately. This is very cutting-edge stuff for helping you build your music collection. I hesitate to even mention them to you for fear of the whole world finding out and cashing in, but...oh, what the heck.

Public Libraries

Did you know you can check CDs out of the public library?? Well guess what peeps -- you can! In the last month, I have checked out CDs by Tracy Chapman, the Hold Steady, Jay Farrar, Ryan Adams, Van Morrison. The list goes on! And then you can rip them onto your computer. I mean, then you can BURN them into your memory forever and replay them whenever you wish! When did these public library things start up anyway?

(Wait, didn't I once meet one of my INCREDIBLY UNSTABLE boyfriends at a library eons ago? My memory must be going. [See Breakup Babe entry for August 2, 2004].)

(Photo of the Seattle Public Library cribbed from the New York Times)

Podcasts

So there's this...thing. It's called "podcasting." I know, I know, sounds kinda weird. I think only one or two people know about it, including me. But - get this - when you sign up for podcasts, you can get things (like music!) for free! Just the other day I signed up for the KEXP podcast (you have to be really super hip to listen to KEXP so, if you're like, not hip, don't even bother) and I've already gotten like 15 new songs! Of course, most of them are too hip for me! Still. At least I am no longer listening to the same two songs over and over on my (c'mon Apple, pay me a lot of money to mention the name of your ubiquitous portable music player here!)