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

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 . .

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 (http://www.seattleweekly.com/locations/high-5-pie-1199757/) 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 JoytheBaker.com. My apartment smells like a little slice (!) of heaven. Otis Redding is on in the background and I couldn't be happier.

Success!

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 ...

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

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? 

On dreams and life.

I went to bed early last night. I had cooked a pretty healthy meal for dinner but by 8pm I was hungry all over again. The peanut M&M's on my table were calling my name, yelling it, so I decided to turn the t.v. off and head to bed with my cat and a book. I felt like Ellen Burstyn in 'Requiem for a Dream' when she's so hungry she thinks the refrigerator and all the food inside is chasing her. To be honest, I felt a little crazy. I nestled into bed not realizing a night of bizarre, extremely vivid dreams were on their way. The subject matters were hazy at best but most certainly involved old girlfriends, old friends, odd creatures, chocolate milk, 'The Bachelor', new friends, sex and love, green smoothies, familiar places that only exist in my head and what my life would be like if I worked on a dude ranch. I woke up numerous times in the night, every two hours it seemed, with boob and face sweat. Were they nightmares? And really, how does a lady prevent future episodes of boob sweat? Perhaps they were a reflection of how I've been feeling lately: stressed about money, nervous about my future, a desire to sometimes go to bed instead of dealing with life. Sad, right? Typing this out makes me sound depressed. I'll admit, I'm a little down today. I'll allow myself one day to be upset. Not even. I'm going to put my running shoes on and run until I feel better. I need to clear this head of mine and know in my heart everything will be okay. I'm not the only one struggling right now. I can't be ..

My life is good. I have my health and friends and family and food..

And dang, I'm going to eat the hell out of those M&M's tonight .. What?

Rain, bring it.

I finally got a rain jacket. Seriously, bless that thing.

Yo, read this.

I read a review for this book on worldsstrongestlibrarian.com (<-- check it) and decided to give it shot. Books about massive boats and mysterious beasts don't usually appeal to me .. but damn, I got it this morning and I'm already 100 pages in! It's full of history, mystery, a little romance, ghosts, yelling, etc. This book is a page-turner to the tee. I'll keep you up to date of my progression and thoughts. Also, Ms. Yitka gave me a couple books from her collection for me to explore. I.am.stoked. I wonder if there's a website called: ImReadingThis.com -- where people post pics of books they're reading, a short synopsis, a like button (why not?) and whether or not they'd recommend it. Also, I want to start a sight called: IdEatThat.com .. pics of delicious food from people's kitchens, restaurants, dumpsters (recession), etc. That's totally already a site, huh? Yelp.com or something. Anyways, I digress. If you're looking for a good read, head to the library and pick up some Dan Simmons ..

Corpses on an arctic glacier. You ready? 

UPDATE (March 22, 2010): Oh no, I didn't finish this damn book. It was 400 pages too long and I got sick of men being eaten and thrown across the ice. I can, however, recommend "You Remind me of Me" by Dan Chaon and a graphic novel entitled, "Fun Home". You're welcome.

When I grow up.

Okay, I think I've figured out what I want to do when I grow up: be a personal chef. What? Are you surprised? I love cooking, I do it all the time. I especially like cooking for others - you know that. I am social and smart and if they asked me to cook in a dress with my legs out I would say, "Yes, yes I will do that". So, what exactly is the next step? I guess I'll need to do a little research. Send out a few emails? But to whom?

Can we talk about my sisters for a moment? Ms. Las Vegas Launa just got a job at UC Riverside and is moving back to California! She recently signed a lease to a townhouse a few miles from campus. I'd offer to be her personal chef but she cooks like a maniac and wouldn't have it any other way. Joy Wilson is in the midst of completing her first cookbook. It's due in a week which has set her in panic mode. I can only imagine how much food she has in her freezer. So, so much. I couldn't be more proud of these two beautiful humans; my talented (extremely ambitious) sisters. They motivate and inspire me every day .. and for them, I hope I do the same.

I'm also trying to run farther and longer in preparation for my half marathon in April. My friend Yitka is an unbelievable athlete - a woman I respect and look up to very much. Sometimes I call her Suze Orman, sometimes I don't. Anyways, last week she ran up and down a mountain in less than two hours and a few days later completed a 25k trail run on Orcas Island. What? Crazy and amazing, but mostly amazing. I can not wait for Whidbey! Also, the Ragnar Relay .. Thank you for inspiring me. I look forward to a Cougar Mountain adventure soon ..


Random:
Hug somebody, they won't refuse it.
Cat bellies are soft and perfect.
Tonight's sunset was epic.
Jillian Michaels .. uh,
I dream of waffles more often than not.

Second Chance.

Can't we just be friends again? - yelling.

A trip to San Francisco.

two burritos in 24 hours. yeah, i meant business. 

As I wait for the sun to rise to go for a run, I can't help but stare out my window and feel extremely thankful to be here. I got back from a three day jaunt in San Francisco yesterday evening. It was quite a trip. I ate a lot, clearly, and drank more than I had in awhile. I remember drinking with friends being such a huge part of my life when I lived there. After work, we would drink. Hell, we'd even drink AT work. Cocktails with dinner, a beer before bed. Why not? It was our life. We drank and laughed and hugged and fell into bushes. Being back in that environment was really interesting. I realized how much things had changed for me. Not saying that I don't drink/like to have a good time these days, it's just not as frequent and the amount of alcohol I consume isn't as much. I have a bit more control then I used and to be honest the choice feels nice. Am I growing up? Who know. And this is not to say my friends in San Francisco are stagnant by any means. My dear friend Jenny works hard, plays hard and just returned from a three week stint in Australia. Another friend, Mariana, has begun training for the AIDS life cycle, a 545 bike ride from SF to Los Angeles all in the name of finding that cure .. So this is not a negative reflection of them whatsoever. I just feel like if I were to move back I'd fall into the same little trap I experienced a few years back. Don't get me wrong, it was a fun trap - but now, my focus is a little different. .

It's great to go for hikes on a whim, to run a 7-mile loop at 7:30 in the morning before work, to go for a walk in the rain just because I can .. Being active is so necessary for me and I'm thankful to live in a space in which outdoor activity is encouraged and respected.

My trip was wonderful though. The sun enriched my soul. The burritos made me smile. Jenny straightened my hair and I bought myself a blazer. I saw friends, ate quail, watched several dvd's of 'Sex and the City', drank Pisco sours in the afternoon-time, fell asleep in the park, sat a top Jenny's roof and enjoyed the panoramic view her condo offers, played pool and lost, played with a puppy and won .. A bartender made a drink called the "Diva Cup" and it got real awkward, real quick ..

I didn't make out with anyone. I know, it's weird.

Lauren S. - Come to Seattle. I don't really make egg scrambles anymore but we can have another sandwich off and eat ourselves into a raging food coma and then take a nap. Tempted?

It's sort of light outside. It's probably safe to run?

Friends:

I love them.