NEW Items. Feel the Holiday Love.

Here's the scoop:1) You give me your old vacation or family event slides
2) I make them a sweet candle holder, lantern, vase, window piece or table lamp paying lovely homage to said vacation or family event or member 3) You receive a fantastic and unique gift that will be talked about for years to come, made out of memories no one was appreciating last year
4) We can all feel good about reducing, reusing and recycling
5) You tell your friends about me and I make them equally awesome gifts!!!

More info: www.etsy.com/shop/bitsanpieces

Business Cards as Usual

So a few of us Sellwood kids think it's important to support our ministries and the ministries of those around us and a simple way to start that is to use our talents for the general good. To that end, an Etsy account in my name was born. You can shop my store, donate to the cause, or just send me a gently harassing conversation at:

http://www.etsy.com/shop/bitsanpieces

I'd love your feedback, ideas of places to score some more Kodachrome slides or window frames, other project ideas, more artists who'd like to locally join the co-op, and new friends just stopping by to say hey.

If you were directed to my blog here via a business card, the web address above or the link to my homepage should take you straight to Etsy and my page there.

Peace, my loves!

-M

True

1. I live with 7 other people that I know love me with a love I hope I can reflect with equal fervor and commitment.
2. I have a great job that will meet my needs creatively and student loans-ly.
3. I am still heinously immature and irresponsible sometimes.
4. I love being with people, in their stories.
5. I want to be around kids more. Other peoples', my own eventually, right now...just other peoples'....
6. I'm discovering a kind of unity that is worth fighting for; these are bonds I expect to defend because of my love for these people.
7. I am now a pastry chef, a sniper, and a barista. And not a sniper.
8. Boop boop boop.
9. Regardless of how I feel about my life in the little pieces, I can feel the arms around me in the big story, making me a very small but integral part of it. Or so I'm told.
10. It's all one story. All of it. Family, your choices affect me, and mine you, and that's alright. That's more than alright, that's crucial. Help me choose wisely for a better story for you.

I Just Love Food so Darn Much

I have missed my city. I mean, I've been here, I have just not made time to do any experiential eating in the last couple of months.

I miss Le Happy, where I can play a semi-long-haul trucking boardgame from the late seventies, drink a fine Tempranillo, and chow down on a crepe full of honey-cured ham on a plate right next to a crepe full of Nutella, or Bananas Foster. En Flambe, even.

I miss Mehri's bakery, down the street from me as I head to Woodstock to FedEx a box of sweet surprises to an old coworker. Her hand-crafted rolls and wedding cakes in progress remind me of why I went to culinary school, and also make me want to come play with gum paste. Gum paste lilies last a lot longer than the real thing.

I haven't been to Cupcake Jones in an unforgivable time, I was practically a staple of the place not long ago. Best buttercream icing for cupcakes in town, hands down. St. Cupcake markets better, and wastes more paper in helping you get them home safely, but unless the cupcakes are for a party or someone (luck dog) other than you...who on earth do you think you're kidding? A cupcake from them isn't going to make it back up the block to Everett, where your car is parked, much less home. It will be safely in your belly. Where it belongs.

It's been far too long since I paid a visit to another of my favorite places in the world, Bridgeport Brew Pub and Bakery. I mean beer, and bread, all in the same place? It's not just a marketing ploy when they call it "Beervana." A lot of their product involves their in-house brews, and that's just smart, and delicious. I could definitely work there.

Saturday is my brunch day for Delta Cafe, here on Woodstock. Nothing says good home cookin' like brioche french toast. My head has been light just thinking about it recently. I will let you know how that goes. If they can fry up bread and eggs as excellently as they can feed my need for starches, cheese, and deep-fried veggies in the middle of the night, I will be a happy camper.

Food stories updated next week? Let me know if there's a place you've been dying to try. I'm all for sharing my eating nirvana with others!
-M

4.21.09

Eating pudding, hanging with my buddies Trevor and Mark at the Living Room by Adsideo, my faith community's new brainchild...life is pretty amazing.

I'm growing.

I'm passionately desiring to grow.

I'm loving the weather.

I'm cleaning my house. Tonight.

I'm changing for good, in all senses.

Much love.

-M

April Showers....are Portland Standard

Hello, loves.

The best part about this here is that I'm typing this here from my brand new lap-top. Every purchase that I make that I consider an "adult" purchase, in the most innocent sense of that word, mind you, still makes me a little giddy inside. That's probably why I'm not a real adult, yeah?

Brand new lappy came out of his Costco box about three hours ago. Yeah, I'm that girl-the one who buys her electronics from the only store where one would buy five gallons of soy sauce, or a gross of toilet paper, or a giant inflatable castle-waterslide-funtimes-bouncehouse (which.....may be another "adult" purchase sometime over the summer. Cass thinks it's gonna cost like, $100, but she wouldn't go check the price for me, and I think it can't be more than five or six hundred. And I might be shocked, it might be under four hundred).

In more legitimate news, I'm still working for Delphinas, even if a little grudgingly. I love that I have a job, basically. And it's paying me well. In the state with the highest unemployment in the country, I can't complain too much.

Wynkoop's House for Women is getting going. I volunteered at the women's facility where most of our permanent residents may come from this week, and I'm very excited about the connections, resources, and all-around knowledge I'm gaining. I should have a roomie to be another house manager by September, and there's been rumors of summer interns, although we'll see how that goes. The struggles with our new project are numerous. It's a new project, for one. And with our pastor down for the count for a few weeks because of some surgery, our house is ever-so-slightly on a back burner for the moment. There's a lot of paperwork and logistics to sort through here. I just have to keep reminding myself that it's God's stuff, the house, my actual stuff, my skills, my job, my family and friends, the way my relationships with everyone play out, my time, and everything else. It's all God's stuff....and he's got it under control, much better than I ever could.

Prayers are much appreciated.

Peace,
-M

Me and Julio down by the schoolyard

Can I tell you what's been going on? Would that be alright with you?

Excellent.

Every now and then I'm on the bus, looking at people, and I just get this crazy urge to run a stream of conscousness exercise through a mini cassette recorder that I would be cradling like a small child at all times if I owned such a thing. This morning there were seven or eight other beings on the bus with me, early morning creatures, as this lady-baker is learning to be. The anemic, vampiric teenager; the effeminate man in the black blazer with the collar turned up and a white ring around the top of his J Crew sweater, lending the impression of clergy; several W-Mart greeter types, retired, but not retiring; and myself. I'm sure I look like a haggard addict in the mornings. I usually roll out of bed about fifteen minutes before a ten minute "brisk walk" to my bus stop, rinse my contacts, scarf a muffin, brush my teeth, and do a systems-check of my pockets: keys, debit card, ID, lip balm, bus pass. Some clothes that I appear not to have worn the day before arrange themselves rather miraculously on my body, and I manage to tie my shoes. Sometimes I manage to trot like a bloated caribou toward the bus stop's bench, so as not to trip myself on the laces I have not bothered to tie. As of yet, I have not fallen. 

My fellow riders are less interested in me than I am in them. Unfortunately, my racing mind is attempting to race back to unconsciousness and dreams, and I tap my forehead unpleasantly forcefully on the glass of the emergency exit window. No one laughs audibly. I wonder if the vampire teen can sense how much it hurt. The TriMet employee who catches the bus at the same stop as I do and sits as far from the rabble on the bus as is humanly possible, forward and away from us, leaning into the other driver for some public transit inside gossip is smirking at something, and I wonder if it's my window attack. I looked like the cute little ring bearer at my cousin's wedding who face planted into the ring-bearing pillow about three minutes after delivering the goods. 

The thing is, my mind is making up stories about these people while they're here in front of me, but I've gotten so good at having a job that requires deft hands and a present head, that I'll entirely forget them until the next commute. I feel almost an hysterical need to immortalize them somehow, even if just for myself. We are nothing special, but each minute within our lives is so precious, so meaningful, and so individual. If you look into it, really, it will speak into the rest of your life. It will mark you. Part of the fun is keeping your eyes open while you're being marked.

I am that kid. I'm the kid that refused to look away while my dad pulled slivers or yanked teeth or removed Band-Aids. I keep my eyes on the gory bits of movies, the awkward moments of others, the hilarious and horrific moments of my life. I've watched every tattoo I've gotten

- closely. I want to be breathing in every piece of my life as it happens.

That said, this year is shaping up to be one of the wildest of my life. Maybe wild isn't what you think when you think of me. You're probably right. Or perhaps you just don't know me as well as you think you do. 

I have limited stories about jumping off of things, of kissing strangers, or of international travel. I have endless stories of Jesus walking into the darkness of my life in a whirlwind to put me on top of a new adventure. I get the nip of the lion that says "back in line, kid" and then I get to go be something else to someone else.

This isn't the place to write about those stories. 

2009's first hours saw Laura, Brennan, John, Alex, Kristy, Anne, Shelly, Amanda and Amanda and I in Las Vegas. I saw some fancy fountains, drank (too much), spent (too much), gambled (not enough), but generally behaved myself. I petted a stinger-less stingray, watched someone spoon one of the MGM's lions, inhaled a lot of second-hand smoke, ate the best sushi that could be expected in a land-locked state, and wore little black heels about two times too many. I had a blast.

Adsideo, the family I've been pulled into here in South East Portland (....church, guys) is raining down upon me all sorts of blessings in this new year, as young as the year may be. 

*A team of guys and girls from their New Year's Eve party moved the stuff out of my old apartment and into my new location in the middle of the night after the ball dropped. Apparently the person in charge of setting up that work crew that was going to move me out by the 1st didn't ever get the message that I had to be out by the 1st. 

*The new location is going to be named after authoress and philosopher-ess M. Wynkoop, and is going to mimic a little of what Adsideo has done elsewhere. We minister through the Portland Rescue Mission, taking individuals out of their rehab programs, individuals who show an interest in being part of the Adsideo family and put them in one of our houses, they get jobs, stay connected to the people they live with, grow with us, and generally make us all the stronger. Up to now it's just been two men's houses, but recently a building was donated to our cause, and we're turning it into something that follows the same lines, but for women. I get to be a staff member in that house. It's going to rock my face off, and I'm so excited.

*I'm.....into someone. And someone that I think I ought to be into, for the first time in a few years. No details. Too early. I'm excited about that too, and I hope it rocks my face off.

*Promotion at work! After a long bout of hard experiences, pastry people quitting or being fired, and generally lots of overtime and sweat and flour...I am a shift-lead! It's excellent. Basically the same job I've been doing for months, but now I'm getting paid for it, and I have some actual authority. 

*Searching for a really great Paul Simon Ringtone. Any ideas?

That's basically it, guys. I love my life, and I love you. Call me? :)

Never

I love being able to feel again. Numbness is sometimes the scariest location that one can exist in.

Love is patient (people are people, and we love them anyway)
Love is kind (look out for unintentional hurting. we're selfish creatures left to our own devices, and I think the primary problems with all relationships-romantic, friendly, family and otherwise- stem from having an expectation and never voicing it, then being hurt when it's not met)
Love does not envy (stop being so caught up in what might be, and find peace in what and where you are)
Love does not boast (I have nothing to boast about. maybe you do, but I don't)
Love is not proud (one of the greatest gifts you can give another person is to let them be blessed in helping you. Don't be too proud to ask for help)
Love is not rude (love is gentle, rather than abrasive. love doesn't wear people down)
Love is not self-seeking (love lives for giving to others. It's funny how often the very best thing for me is to do the very best thing for someone else. Even if it hurts.)
Love is not easily angered (it doesn't mean love doesn't get angry. Love is angered over injustice, over inflicted pain, and over things that fly in the face of love. But love is a slow-burner, and it takes a lot to push it over the edge)
Love keeps no record of wrongs (don't let yourself be manipulated, but give people the benefit of the doubt. keep expecting excellence of others, even though it means getting your heart broken. We have hearts in order that they might be broken. This is how we learn to feel, how we compare the gifts of the Lord. Pain is a tool for learning, pain shows us who we are and allows God to heal us. Don't hold things against people, since forgiveness is one of the grandest moments of growth a person can experience, on either side. We have been forgiven much. Go now and forgive)
Love doesn't delight in evil (keep the candles burning to chase out the darkness. There's a reason we don't like it. it is indeed bad for us)
Love rejoices in the truth (speaking of pain, the truth is painful lots of the time. But it cuts away the stifling things that cloud our way, and leads to a kind of healing unmatched in anything else. I'm all for truth)
Love always protects (if God is love, love is a father who is more passionate about his children than any human or animal parent could possibly be. May we reflect a tiny fraction of that kind of love)
Love always trusts (love is a fool. Love lays itself out on the line and gets stepped on, and then does it again the next day. Love can find that amazing balance of trust in its equal, love from someone else)
Love always hopes (absurdly optimistic. Love looks for the next gift, and expects great things)
Love always perseveres (know that the only thing worth having in this life is the true love of God. He offers it, and with it we have breath to get up in the morning, nerves and muscles to move our legs and arms, a reason to hope for another second of life. Persevere for the eternity we are staring into when we accept the gift of love. This life is a journey up a hill, and at the top we can jump in to the catching arms, and need never carry our own weight again for all time. Did you notice that we are hardly carrying our own weight now? this is Love)
Love never fails (here we find a dim reflection of a love that never fails. As long as we are human, we'll fail. it's a hard place to find oneself at, but contentedness comes from knowing that real love, Gods love, God will never fail. nothing moves us from the love that never fails. It's incomprehensible, and more than I can pretend I know much about. Love never fails).

"...and I've been working like a dog..."

Eleven hours at work. I'm sore, I'm hungry, my head hurts, and if Sketchy the Clown (the new nickname we christened the "most likely to have a mail-order bride" dishwasher man) makes one more vaguely inappropriate veiled comment about me having an abusive boyfriend he'd like to murder...slowly....I will go absolutely insane.

Where do these people come from? I mean, there have been some pretty inappropriate exchanges between myself, coworkers, supervisors, pretty much every one on the production floor. There's nothing in it, though. It's harmless. Lil' mexican dudes 1 and 2 are like my crazy little brothers, my supervisor makes fun of me for mooning after the 'dreamy' electrician (he was. he threw my whole day off) and my other supervisor trys to dig himself out of the hole he created with

"so that's what your teachers meant when they said "nice, but..."

*crickets, me with a raised eyebrow*

"that's 'but' with one 'T', 'but dot-dot-dot'.....come on, now."

good times were had.

Sketchy, on the other hand, totally creeps me out. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, and say he's just a lonely guy and I'm nice enough to talk to people...but I haven't been nice. And the kid he works with makes me laugh so much it's hard to do my job. I'm pretty sure Sketchy has noticed the divergence in my attitudes toward him and this other guy...and generally anyone else on the company's grounds. When he started commenting on bruises and scratches I had....(I went home and checked...there weren't any....) I'm still shivery-uncomfortable thinking about it. My life needs no drama.

PS I've been working on thinking about things worth thinking about. Less focus on the negative, way more focus on "what is good and what is pure." It's become a little mantra for me, and I'm sure I look like a goon walking down the street repeating "what is good and what is pure" to myself, but it's working out pretty nicely. So that's a step in the right direction. I suppose.

I'll try and take stupid pictures at work. It's not like we've got anything better to do. Like....pastries or anything.

PPS the yummy treats at the top of my webpage are actually the pastries Delphina's makes. Yum!

Images of my year

Not all are mine, but all represent what Portland has been to me so far. I love this place, and God has blessed me greatly in it, and continues to do so. More stories soon!

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

New News

It's 2:42 AM and I'm in the middle of Henna-dying my hair kinda sorta red.

No apartment just yet. We've (I've. Since when am I a 'royal "we"' kind of kid?) moved to Craigslist roomshares in houses and other sketchy living accomodations.

My car is getting ready to give up its ghost. Any day now. I had an estimate done, and at $450-$500 to get the bugger fixed, I decided it's more worthwhile to buy a new car, or be all Portand green eco-conscious and reduce my carbon footprint (read, trail of garbage for the REST OF MY PITIFUL LIFE) by selling/scrapping said vehicle and being a public transit-or and biker. Like, bicycler, not motor-biker. As much as I would like to be a motorcyclist.

I removed my stitches from last week (or so) myself a few days ago, and that seems to be healing nicely. I'll have a cute lil' scar to remind me of my embarassing story soon enough. haven't cut myself on anything else lately. Well, massive paper cuts, but what can you do?

I have baguettes upon baguettes upon baguettes. Some of you should really work on coming to Portland/living in Portland so I have some people I know to give things to. As it stands, most of downtown Portland's homeless population is going to benefit from my thousands upon thousands of dollars worth of education.

WCI took my transcripts from CBC, and it knocks 3 classes off my schedule. Which rocks. I'm not sure whether or not I'll be able to be done early, but at least I'll be able to sell my books back prior to the class. Yay!

I ate some AMAZING deep-fried crab wantons at the Saturday market, and I almost asked the guy if I could come into the little booth with him and learn the crab wanton magic. It was quite blissful. I also bought my dad's Christmas present, and it's the first time in years that I've felt like this is a meaningful present that I know he wants and will value. Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy, and he's always real appreciative, but he has everything he needs, basically. He's super hard to buy for because he's not a collector, his sports fix is taken care of at the high school, and I don't know anything about sports anyway, and there's just never anything that seems to fit. But this is something I know will be awesome, because it's a nostalgic thing he was talking about when we were on vacation. And I am excited beyond belief.

In less important news, I'll be 23 next Wednesday. Basically old. Yikes.

Finished Blue Like Jazz on the MAX lightrail last Tuesday, and I have to say, it was an amazing book to read in the city it was written in. He's not the best writer, but he's an honest story teller, and I walked through a lot of the things that weigh on my mind with him as I read the book. It was just what I needed just now. God is a good guy that way.

I'm completely a consumer whore because last Sunday I was reading my training manual for GAP as I sat and had a holiday latte from Starbucks. Grind my beans in the corporate machine, for sure. Oh, well. It's a living. kinda....

kisses, all!

Pastry Bags, Eclairs, and Heavy Sutures

Yep. I just spent a couple of hours in the ER, but it was a couple of hours less than it might have been since some nice doctors took me across the hall before they left for the night and stitched me up. It was a nasty pastry bag star-tip cut. Or a big knife, if you prefer, because that's probably a more exciting story.


As for the Hospital, it wasn't too bad.

The thing that bugs me the most at the moment is that I can't type very well, because I have this giant gauze contraption on my right index finger over my three very deep, very hospital grade sutures. life is tremendous. And I have to work in the morning, which is rockin'. I am a tired girl. But it's nice to know there's lots of people in this city who love me, and I didn't have to ride the lightrail home from the hospital.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go take my Vicodin a la House.


ps Molly: the apartment would have cost me $625 a month.