Pinwheels

I realized I actually had a story about pinwheels to share.

I've always loved them; pinwheels are shiny, brightly colored, distracting, and send me right back to days when I was five years old and slighly more carefree than I am today. I like the memories I have associated with them. Generally summer, often the Fourth of July. Much like a little firework in my hand, but less alarming than Reservation-quality sparklers, pinwheels were mesmerizing and altogether a good experience. I was that kid who put stuff in her mouth long after she was old enough to know better. I like to blame this on my kinesthetic learning style, and sometimes I like to blame my kinisthetic learning style on this. I'm circular and nonsensical like that. Pinwheels are usually made of that tinny foil, folded and pinned together in the center and when they're going remind me of perpetual motion, or those experiments where mirrors angled slightly proceed into infinity as they reflect each other. Not that they are similar in any way, but perhaps are linked in my mind by the proximity of time by which I started thinking about such things.

Last week, this adorable couple was walking their small sweater-clad dog down the street, and they stopped for a moment and bent down to the ground right outside my kitchen window. My roomie and I were in a discussion about some topic, and I was doing dishes and getting myself a drink. I think we may have been trying to close windows with little success, because my hand was on the dusty metal of the apartment window slider as I watched these people walk by, then pause at our patch of sidewalk. The guy stood up, and where he had be crouched, a sparkly little pinwheel flashed in the sun. I nearly ripped the window open and yelled at them "thanks, we love pinwheels!" but I'm working on being thought of as less insane by my neighbors. So I contained myself. There on the side of the road with nothing growing near it, was now our own little metal flower, a bright little pinwheel facing the street. That's fair, for these things were meant to be shared, and I don't need to be the only one enjoying its shiny little face.

Two days later, a jeep was parked next to the pinwheel, and generally blocking it from view, which I didn't think much of, because I tend to be fairly exhausted when I come home from making a few thousand pastries, and I barely registered its presence as I went about my way in the kitchen. Then I saw some lady fiddling with something on the street, and my eyes went back to the same patch of sidewalk. As she walked away, proud, I could see that she had turned the pinwheel so now people walking down the sidewalk could enjoy it.

I was so thrilled to have someone else on this planet take almost as much interest in the shiny spinning inanimate object as myself. Gold stars for that lady.

Things like this happen in Portland all the time, and they make my day every time.

July is My New Favorite Month

I love it when the future secures itself. Or God lets you think you were doing something right, even when it was pretty obviously entirely Him. This has been a a fantastic week.
I am making a dollar less an hour, but I've given up a job that gave me little joy for a job that will turn into my internship for school, and I'll get to stay in the area and get paid. Paid internships in Portland are hard to come by. Thanks, God.
I have only 5 more weeks left to use school as an excuse for anything, but I'm still in touch with the cool cats who are my close friends from school, it will lighten my physical 'hours available in my day' schedule, and I'll be done with school. If I can manage to turn in all my paperwork for the internship, I will have a degree, and feel like I've finished something for the first time in five years.
I've let something go that was weighing on me emotionally. I'm not going to exposit that one out here, but it's a good thing for sure.
My parents are getting rid of their travel trailer (I'll never be able to say "I'll be in my trailer" ever again....or something..) but I'm getting some rockin' stuff out of it the next time someone makes a Portland trip. Hello toaster oven, DVD/VCR, bizarre electric griddle, and whatever other wondrous joys should appear from the underbelly of the Crow family RV.
It's summer, and it's beautiful. Say a thank you prayer to an awesome God for an awesome season this week.
Living situations are possibly a new and wonderful adventure for the near future, and I'm ready for the challenge. More about that when I have more information and permission to share it.
I'm going to have to do more laundry, but I won't ever have to wear all-black again. That's pretty much the fashion highlight of my life. On a similar note, since I've lost a ton of weight, I have all sorts of pants that don't fit me anymore. Looks like I get to make another Goodwill run. Ask me about my TYRANNOSAURUS LAMP from the last one.
I'm down to one kitty. There's no but here. It's self-explanatory, and beautiful. I love my Max, and I don't need to be responsible for a second one now. At all. Yay one kitty houses.
Happy Sunday, kids.

Incidentally, does anyone want to go to the Zoo on Thursday?

Pastry school back when I liked it...

Sugar. That's all sugar. Every bit above the cardboard presentation board it's on. Sugar.
It's a piggy! It's pretty much the first thing I've felt really good about the final product for, too. I love it. Other people found this project really difficult, and while I did too, it just seemed to come together for me. My muscles are apparently attuned to the molding, bending and blowing of hot hot hot sugar. This lil' guy is going in the display case downstairs. Hopefully I won't have dropped out of school before then.

Comics and Spoons

Spoons! The first panel is from class. Some guy we sat in front of solidly fell asleep for the better part of our two and a half hour class. At one point, Amy glances casually over her shoulder, then nearly spins off her uncomfortable stool as she whips around to me and whisper shouts "He's got his hands in his pants!"

I was too shocked to say anything funnier than that.

We laughed so hard we cried, because who does that? Who falls asleep in class and finds themselves unconsciously shoving their hands down the front of their elastic banded checked chef pants?

I'm never eating anything anyone else in this class makes. Ever.

Plus apparently later the spoons went on a jungle hike. I don't know, you'll have to ask them. I wasn't invited.

Earlier in the week, when I decided I wasn't going to take any more notes in this class because I think it might cause some kind of boredom induced paralysis, and because watching her pace strains my neck, I started drawing lil' class inspired comics. Some are taken from some insane line in the teacher's lecture. Some are me thinking I'm funny. All are being posted here, like some abandoned and unloved vacation slide show images. Enjoy.

Stop Whining and Clean Your Room, Already

There is laundry that beckons, crying to be bleached and doused and detergent-ed. There is a living room with scattered debris, the remnants of my flurrying week. There is a bedroom floor that is skulking around down there, somewhere, to the best of my knowledge, and is dreaming of the freeing song of the vacuum. There are dishes festering in the sink, and food particles racing to prove the evolutionary process.

I need to clean.

But right now I'm in a Jon Foreman-induced nirvana, because of procrastination. That's right. It finally paid off. I would like to pretend it was some kind of self control. I would like to say that I bought the package deal last year sometime, intentionally avoiding downloading it until all four sections were released so that I could truly enjoy the most Jon Foreman bang-for-my-buck. I was just too lazy to buy some CD's and get the job done, actually. I did get around to downloading it last week (several weeks after the last section's release, and several MONTHS after the first's) but I've owned it since they started releasing tracks. I'm the worst fan ever.

On the upside, I uploaded them all this weekend to my personal "tuning everyone else in the world out, no I don't have a dollar, I can't hear you if you whistle at me, and wow, I ought to be paying attention to the trains when crossing the street" listening device. It's been a good week. Jon walks me to work, rides the MAX with me, even goes running. Sometimes we get lunch in a little cafe, just the two of us. It's been amazing to wade through the music several times, pulling the strings to see what meaning can be found, lyrically and musically. I love these guys.

New class? Hate the lecture soooo much, and being a culinary kid is not too conducive to vegetarianism. I hate this. Now, I'm going to be honest here. Those of you who know me know that I'm not veg for any ethical reasons, really. But everything I learn in culinary school reinforces it for me (we were talking about worms in the flesh of halibut this morning) and I've done a good job about being really consistent for months now (almost 8). Yesterday I ate a cheeseburger. I was craving it, I indulged the urge, and I think that's my prerogative. But with this new class, the teacher is CRAZY UPTIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING. Sorry, I hardly ever resort to typing in caps, but some people just merit that level of insane, inane, low-level communication. She's so arbitrarily irritating about everything, in fact, that I'm going to be a real martyr about the vegetarianism this month. She says I don't have to eat anything we make, but I have to at least taste it. I hate spitting things out, I think that's gross. But I didn't sign up for this part of life, and I'm milking my pretentious eccentricities for all they're worth. Ha!

Bite me, veal stock.

Bees

I'm fascinated by the small things. Like, bees are different here in Oregon on the West side than they are in the desert I'm from.

These look like pretty typical Tri-Cities bees. Nothin' fancy, not a lot of extra fuzz or anything...

Portland bees are HUGE. And FURRY BEYOND BELIEF. Example:

That is one fairly gigantic bee.

So I don't have to go to class tomorrow until 9, so I'm staying up way late. It's not my best plan ever, but it resulted in a post about bees. With pictures, even! How lucky are you?

'Night kids. For more information about bees and bee safety, please visit Isaac Marion's blog:

http://www.burningbuilding.com

Search for all his entries on bees. You'll be glad you did; it's quite educational.

Out From Under My Skin

Alright, Nancy Smith. I'm sorry I don't ever update my blog. That cat litter box is not going to change itself, though. And unfortunately, my job doesn't pay me to sit around and be funny (mildly amusing? not suicide-inducingly boring?) right now. That would be pretty stellar if it did. I'ma have to work on that.

So we gots 'da intrawebs in the apartment, and I have all this free time with my new schedule and blogging might just happen again. We'll see. I'm going to need a pretty hefty supply of Pringles and Diet Coke. (Not really, I think. My new and improved body might not support that kind of behavior. I've lost like 45 pounds in P-town) To give you an idea of all my new free time, when I started school and work at the same time last October, my day ran something like this:

MONDAY-FRIDAY: work (10am to 3pm) school (4pm to 9pm) transit time (9:15pm to 10pm) homework (10pm to unconsciousness) sleep.

SATURDAY: Frantically run errands, do laundry, catch up on homework/sleep/phone calls

SUNDAY: Church (maybe), more homework, possibly fun.

So now my schedule is way more reasonable. I'm to class by 7 AM but I'm done at 10, and to work by 10:30. Most days I'm off by 4, and can actually socialize during normal daylight hours. I can make it to the bank. It's pretty fabulous.

Just a couple more classes until I have my internship, and then back to the real world (this time with student loans-hooray!). I have a little aneurysm every time I think about that, but I'm sure it's not detrimental enough to my health to worry about. Basically, I'm primarily job hunting. I intend to find someplace that wants me to work there full time, then I can just let them sign my paperwork, and we'll all be happy. And I can work for them when I'm done, so I'm not just a three month intern using there facilities to pay the school so I can work for free. I don't see how that's okay with anyone. It's really an abusive system. Pretty lame. My friend from the session before me is working at a bakery as an assistant to a girl who doesn't do anything now that my friend is there. But it's my friend's internship. So she's paying tuition for a "class" that consists of her doing this other girl's work and not getting paid for it. But the other girl is getting paid. I would have a few choice words to say about that. Words like, um, "NO." Oh, well. I hope I won't have to be in a situation like that.

Right now my goal is to be out of the Mac Shack (Romano's Macaroni Grill, I do NOT work at McDonald's...not yet, anyway) by July. One of the managers comes back from maternity leave next month, and she stresses me way out. I cease to function like a normal human being, and it's ugly. She relies heavily on negative reinforcement and humiliation. She is no one I want to spend any more time with than I already have.

So several bakeries applied to (read, 15+) and none responded yet. Tears. Tears from my eyes. Come on now, people. Let's get our act together. Mary=stellar employee. The equation is not a difficult one. Some people, geesh.

What else is new? I'm selling my car. Ack! This makes me a real hippie Portlander with nothing but public transit and the power of my own legs/wheels (on the bike, silly)/ability to finagle a ride out of other people to get around. Which, all in all, is exciting. I live within fairless square on the MAX line, so school and work are free to ride to. Makes life fabulous. I haven't bought gas for my car since January. I look at the price boards now and my stomach cramps a little bit for my friends still attached to their four-wheeled demons (kidding).

Luckily, one of my best friends has a motorcycle, so I feel less bad about using him for all sorts of transportation. I feed him. I think it's a pretty fair trade. Also, he lives above one of the most fabulous coffee shops in Portland. he's a good friend to have.

In my spare time (still the most exciting phrase to have back in my life) I have taken to drawing stupid little comics. My friends from school and I had an awful lecture class that taught us a week's worth of information in three weeks, and we paid more for it than some people pay for cars. Used, but CARS. argh. So instead of paying attention, we bought a middle school quality notebook for notes. Middle school quality notes. The kind we all used to fold into funny shapes and jam into each other's hands between classes in the halls when we where 14. It's been amazing. We all take turns writing in it, and I love adding stupid little doodles to my turn, and it's escalated to minor cartooning. My own little paper webcomic. I might transfer them over to webcomic-ness someday.

Even though I'm webcomic'ed (almost) and still a student and single and needing to do laundry, I feel like I've grown up a whole lot this year. It's been quite a trip, actually. I love you all at home in the Tri-Towns, but wow. I'm not coming back any time soon. I'm probably not "coming home" to stay, ever. I won't say for sure, because God's a funny guy that way, and he tends to respond to all my 'I would never's' with "Oh, you won't, huh?" and then I'm doing exactly what I thought I'd never do. Or I'm fighting against it, and it's obviously what I'm supposed to do. Meh. We get by. I'm working on listening better. And loving.

No place will teach you to love or to hate people better than Portland. Every second is an opportunity to succeed at loving or fail and crash and burn in horrible bitter resentment. Especially when you work in a restaurant. I'm a queen of whining, complaining, being vengeful and caustic. I mean, I'm trying to get better, and to reflect the opposites of those things. But man, oh man. I feel like there should be some kind of prize for the people who get my back up in less than 10 seconds. Seriously. What's the minimum time frame for a person I've never met to walk into the Mac Shack and piss me off-royally? It's stunning how quickly I anger. Hmmm. Sounds like the problem is me. But when I've been up since 5:30, that's hardly ever how I see the situation.

So I'm creating rules for spending time with people-no complaining about work, no gossiping about the bed of sin and rumor that is the Macaroni Grill, and no money talk. It makes for a much less depressing life if we can manage these rules. It's what comes of having mostly servers for friends. Yikes.

In other Portlandy-life changing sorts of news, I'm thinking about tattoos again. I promised my friend Amy we'd get one together when we're done. It's going to be a whisk. Anyone seen Ace of Cakes? You'll know what I'm talking about. I'm also probably going to get two more at some point...but it's an expensive habit. Not expensive like being an alcoholic or a smoker or having kids, but pricey art. So one for a graduation present to me and to remember Amy by, and more when I have 50 bucks to spare. Small, easy to conceal, and not told to West Side moms who won't let me hang out with their daughters anymore. Ya know. I'm such a bad big-city kid now. What will ever become of me. I'm sure I'm not who you thought I was, right? :)

True 'dat.

I'm not who I thought I was 24 hours ago... -Jon Foreman

Alright. Is that enough to pacify the crazies who want to know what's going on in my life? I hope so. My fingers are tired. Love you, babes!
-Mary "lady astronaut" Crow