Sunday, February 5, 2012

Saturn, return

The sun is setting behind the Olympics and part of the sky is a bright orange, the other part a deep blue, with a midnight hue. I had been lying down researching places to visit in Savannah when I happened to peak outside and marvel at the view. What a lucky (is it luck?) woman I am. I say it often, it's hard not to be grateful for all that I have, all that I am. .

At work today, at REI, I think it hit me: I think I'm going through my Saturn Return. I feel a lot of change on the horizon. Heck, a lot of change has already taken place. With a heavy heart, I write that I am no longer dating the beautiful woman I mentioned in my last post - - or was it two posts ago? I miss her a great deal but am pretty confident with my decision. A woman will come a long, at some point, who has everything I need and can't wait to give to me. Until then, I'm working hard on myself - - in every sense. I signed up for a Creative Writing class at Seattle Central Community College. The description inquired, "Have you ever thought of writing a short story or novel? Do you wish you wrote with more expression and imagination?" Immediately I pressed the 'Register now' button. It starts this Saturday and I very much look forward to branching out and experiencing newness. .

I gave my two weeks notice at REI this afternoon. What a wonderful feeling, with a twist of sadness. I'm onto bigger and better things, trying hard to live this life of mine right. Mostly, I think I'll be working more at the Brave Horse to supply with me with more money to see this crazy world. Speaking of which, I bought a ticket to Charleston, South Carolina last night. My Dad and I are going on a father/daughter trip to the South this September. We'll hit up Charleston, the Carolina coast and spend a few days in Savannah. The amount of BBQ I'm planning to eat terrifies me. I hope to hear more of my Dad's stories, too. I treasure them with my whole heart. .

Mariana and I still have plans to visit Montana in May and I have tentative plans to visit Peru in the next year as well. Why? Why not. .

We are beautiful.
We are full.
We have the power to be happy.

I love love, especially when someone does it to me.

I feel empowered by this time of change. It's scary and I'm vulnerable, but I'm excited as well. By the prospects and so much more . .

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Only for you, I do these things. .

Do you ever have moments when you're laughing so hard you can barely breathe? Where you're on the phone chatting with a friend for what feels like ten minutes, but really, hours upon hours have passed? I do. Constantly. This entry is dedicated to a dear friend of mine. Her name is Mariana Lopez and I can say with the utmost confidence that she is funniest lady I know. A friend for life? Easily. A cradle to grave? No duh. .

You see: Mariana and I first met in college, at the University of San Francisco. I had awkward frizzy hair and wore the same thing every day. She had long hair back then and may or may not have been obsessed with Tegan and Sara. I sometimes said funny things in class and she was the only one that appreciated my ridiculousness. Let's just say our statistics teacher was not pleased with our blossoming friendship and/or hysterical outbursts mid-lesson. I grew to love this woman. This kind, hilarious, utterly hilarious woman. But it was college. People are weird in college. I was new to being a lesbian and ate a lot of cereal, corn and kidney beans. I was an insecure lady, and for various reasons, we broke up after two years of dating. . 

In my heart, I knew we could be friends at some point. Although it was hard to see this, especially right away, with the wound being as fresh as it was. I remember sinking into a mild depression. I recall being super nervous walking around campus wondering if I'd see her laughing with her new friends and girlfriends. I reached out, in a pathetic way. I made her feel bad - constantly wondering how she seemed to get over me so quickly. She saw the bigger picture, though. She knew I needed time and space to heal. She'd come back into my life to test the waters, realizing often I just wasn't quite ready yet. With time, came understanding and forgiveness. With understanding, a truly wonderful friendship was born. .  

Mariana, you've been my support for several years now - through the drama, the ups, the downs, the firings, the abusive women, the . . all). When I lived in Los Angeles with my parents, I remember talking on the phone with you, cracking up mega (about what? what is always so funny?), and my Mom inquiring, "Oh, are you speaking with Mariana again?". Heck yes, Mom. Totally. I tell you everything. Perhaps more than you desire to hear, but oh well. You know my secrets. You know when I am pissed off. You know what I look like happy and you know when I've had my feelings hurt. I'm enamored by your ability to make me laugh. The hearty laugh. The deep down, I'm not messing around, guttural laugh. You care about me. You care about my stories, my experiences, my life in Seattle. You worry about my safety. You love my parents and they love you . . 

I knew we could be friends again . . It just took a little time. 

Can I thank you now? Can you feel it in San Francisco? How much I love and appreciate you. How much I care for you and your life. I need you to be happy. I need you to be healthy, wealthy (give me money) and wise. You can't leave me. Do you hear me? I would crumble into a pile of squish. . 

In other words, I love you, friend. Today. Now. For always. . 

Oakland - 2006

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

On being raised right.

I'm sitting at my kitchen table wearing only cuffed pants (pants that are rolled up at the bottom - hey, I went to a fashion consultant, I know about these things) and a short sleeved top. It's almost 5:00pm in Seattle and it's nearly pitch black. I hear rain in the distance. The city lights brighten my view, and the Space Needle, bless that thing, reminds me on the regular why I love my apartment and this fantastically chilly city. To my immediate left is a hefty size bowl of sauteed kale and a glass of water. I ate an entire sheet pan of rice krispie treats in two days and my body gave me an ultimatum: "Eat something green or that's it!" I hear you body. I respect you. .

I feel like I'm writing rather quickly tonight, my thoughts spilling onto the page, as though I haven't written in months! For some reason, I didn't think anyone was reading this thing so I pushed it aside filled my time with more important matters. Oprah. What I've come to realize, though, is that even if nobody reads my words it's best to get them out of my head, into the open, because how can I make room for new thoughts when the old ones are crowding up my area code (in this case, my head). So, I'm back. I'm back to writing and sharing and being ridiculous. Perhaps you'll smile at my words and stories. If I bore you, though, never tell me. I'm a sensitive bear and have taken to punching people in the face when my feelings are hurt. Obviously, I'm kidding. But seriously. .

Instead of giving you a detailed account of the last seven months, let's just say I've been great. I've been running and working and hanging out with a beautiful lady and cooking for friends and living my little Seattle life, happy as can be . . Now, for the actual blog entry.

Taken last Thanksgiving. Seattle 2010
I'd like to dedicate this one to my parents. My generous, intelligent, hilarious, kind, amazing parents. They raised my sisters and I right. If/when I do have children, I could only hope to be as crazy great for them as they were for us. They taught us to be kind to everyone. They taught us to eat everything, to take home left overs, to not waste. If you don't waste, you won't want later. They taught us to be humble. To have respect for everyone. To have goals. To be on time. To bring a dish or a bottle of wine or cookies to a party. To work hard, even if you don't necessarily enjoy what you are doing. To find what it is that makes us happy. To try new things. They encouraged our curiosity. They asked how our days were and really heard our answers. They were always there. At all hours, in every moment. They took us on trips and bought us things. We knew who to go grocery shopping with (Mom!) and who to go clothes shopping with (Dad!). They taught us about food: how to prepare it, savor it,  how to share and enjoy it. They taught me how to drive, although, I skipped town before I could really master the skill. They took care of my grandparents. They made us a priority. They were involved. They took us places and picked us up afterwards. With every graduation, award ceremony, basketball game and piano recital they were there, cheering us on. They stood up for us. They told us we made them proud. Mom made our Halloween costumes. Dad introduced us to beautiful filmmaking. To my parents: I love you. I am thankful for you. I look forward to your Seattle trip, and like always, many donuts will be devoured. .

It's good to be back. You'll see me here again soon . .

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Hey, Pie.

I'm definitely one for a nice slice of pie. Usually with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top - life's too short to go with out. In Seattle, pie has become the new "it" thing. Pie shops have opened all over this city and the smell of butter, berries and sugar is slowly taking over the 206. But are these pies good? They look pretty nice, but how do they compare to the pies my Dad made growing up? Sure, it took him all afternoon to make a single pie but the end product was always a delicious, melt in your mouth, beautiful slice of magic. With this in mind, Yitka and I decided to try out the High 5 Pie Shop on Capitol Hill. I had read a horrifying review of High 5 last month ( and was just so damn curious: Could a piece of pie really be THAT bad? We soon found out .. Yes, yes it can. We ordered two mini cherry almond petit four pies and were immediately disappointed with our decision and experience. The bite was mostly crust and the filling (it seems) had taken the night off. Flavorless, bland, dry: all adjectives you want to avoid whilst discussing a proper piece of homemade pie. The thing I don't understand is why the place was so dang busy. Were people just as curious as we were? Or perhaps their palatte's weren't as particular as ours and they were actually enjoying their pie? We could have ordered the wrong flavor? Who knows!

Once we left, I knew I had to make a proper pie: Berry Cobbler Pie courtesy of My apartment smells like a little slice (!) of heaven. Otis Redding is on in the background and I couldn't be happier.


The pie is going in the oven very shortly. I plan to bring it work to share with friends. Please let it taste better than that hot mess we had last night ...

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Catch up.

Hey. It's Lauren. I've neglected this blog for no reason in particular. To update you I am alive. I'm still in Seattle desperately waiting for the Sun to come out. I'm still listening to Adele on repeat, although not as often and not as loud. I've injured my upper thigh last week so instead of runs I go for nice, long walks up to the grocery store for more milk and yes, tons more cereal. I am happily still employed at REI. Oh, I got fired from my pizza job. My manager said my bad attitude made the servers uncomfortable. That they were upset I didn't call out "Yes" or "Definitely" every time they shouted a salad order at me. They never said "Please", they threw their dishes and plates anywhere they pleased, they showed little or no interest in the fact I was a human being, etc. So, he had to let me go. It is pretty telling how little I care. Shoot, I no longer wash dishes. Darn. And this is not to say washing dishes is not a valid career, it's just not what I see for myself right now or ever again. On the flip side I had a job interview at my favorite restaurant this afternoon. I got my hair did, pulled together an outfit with the help of a lovely lady from Express and answered all of his questions with confidence and delight. I'm up against thirty other individuals - and honestly, if I don't land the job I'll know in my heart I tried my best.

I've been dating too! I may not be smitten just yet but I'm out there - loud and proud.

I'M YOUNG AND FRESH AND FEMALE <--- I didn't intend for that to be in all caps but I kind of like the way it looks. People should scream more. For no reason.

I thank my family and friends for all of their support.
Like I said, I just got my hair did. Boom.
I run a half marathon in 18 days.
My cat still has the asthma, although with the air purifier in place I've never felt fresher.
I've been finding gray hairs in random places.
At what age is it appropriate to wear elastic waisted jeans?

Instead, I just want your burrito.


                                              =   L O V E

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Adele. On Ellen. I won't stop watching. .

Crazy about my cat.

totally a cat butt. 

after a sip of Launa's Crown Royale. 

How many is too many pictures of your cat?