just call me seven

And Now…

… A meme that I shamelessly stole from Maxie.

The perfect outfit: Holey jeans, long t-shirt, lightweight hoodie, flipflops, toe ring.

The perfect meal: Pad Thai

The perfect hangover cure: Don’t drink in the first place.

The perfect road trip: Portland.

The perfect facial feature: Eyes.

The perfect drink: Coffee from Stumptown Coffee Co.

The perfect song: Um… Lately I love “Another Believer” by Rufus Wainwright (from Meet the Robinsons… RENT THIS MOVIE. IT IS GREAT).

The perfect sign of affection: A hug, but it has to be a good one. Not one of those limp, weenie ones. Like, wrap me up and squeeze.

The perfect afternoon: Good food and a movie, followed by a nap.

The perfect vacation: I don’t know… I haven’t been anywhere, so really anything is fine by me.

The perfect invention: The bed. I love me a good bed.

The perfect type of wedding: Big and boisterous, but really simple and low-key. Just a whole lotta people watchin’ me get hitched, eating a lot of food and hanging out.

The perfect album: JJ Heller’s “The Pretty and The Plain.”

The perfect accent: Irish, like Jonathan Rhys Myers. Be still my heart.

The perfect date: I’ve only been on two… It would be nice if the next one was actually romantic instead of just a friend date.

The perfect weather: 65-70, no humidity, lots of wind. Slightly overcast.

The perfect party: Just a bunch of people at my house, eating food and maybe watching a movie or some Lost or something.

The perfect sport: The one that I don’t have to play.

The perfect thing to say: There is no perfect thing to say that could make its way out of my clumsy lips.

The perfect day of the week: Saturday.


Just in case you didn’t know…

Any time you see a movie quote, there’s a strong possibility that I will be offering points for the first correct guess.  There’s a little widget on the sidebar that shows the current scores, and as of now, my brother is the only one who occupies it.  You’re not going to just let him have the whole thing to himself without a fight, are ya?  (Thanks for your guesses, Michael… you’re the best.)

So you gotta ask yourself a question:  Do I feel lucky?  Well, do ya, punk?

(1 million points for the first correct answer… I figured I’d start out with an easy one.  Enjoy!)

My Interview With Marriage-101
So, Neil from Citizen of the Month has instigated the Great Blogger Interview Experiment. Go read his post so you know what this is all about (I’ll wait).Back? Okay, so I interviewed Schmutzie, and Liz from Marriage-101 interviewed me. So here it is.
This was a great experience, and I would say, do it. It’s fun, plus who doesn’t love new blog fodder? Without any further ado, the interview:I know you’re a big movie buff. What is your all-time favorite movie and why? Or, if you blogged about this and I missed it, please tell me your all-time favorite actor/actress/director and why.

Ooh, that’s a hard one. I have a hard time picking a favorite… I love so many. Some of my favorites are typical girl movies, like Pride & Prejudice, You’ve Got Mail, Emma, etc. But one of my very favorites is The Kid. It’s such a powerful story about learning to let go of the hurts you’ve received, and learning to stop believing things that aren’t true. It was really eye-opening for me to see the character that Bruce Willis plays yelling at his younger self (played by Spencer Breslin) and telling him that he’s fat and stupid and pathetic. It strikes me as mean, but that’s exactly what I do to myself. I tell myself that I’m dumb and ugly and that nobody likes me, but that’s not true. Bruce Willis learns a lot about learning to love himself, and is able to let go of some of the wounds he received as a child, which in turn enabled him to love other people and stop being a jerk. So it ends on a hopeful note, and I love that.

What is your dream job?

My dream job… I’m still trying to figure that out. When I was younger and people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was always that I wanted to be a mom. And I know that when I am a mom, it will be my full-time job, because I believe that kids need to have their mom around. In the meantime, however, I do need to have a job. Right now I work for my parents doing bookkeeping for their company Oregon Cookies. I like the flexibility that it provides, since I get to work from home (yay for pajama work), but bookkeeping isn’t something that I really love… or even really like all that much. But I don’t really have any ideas about what else I’d like to do with my life. I like to make stuff, like earrings and other random things (see my website or my etsy store), but I’ve never sold anything, so it’s not really a viable means of generating income. So I guess I kind of have two dream jobs: 1) Motherhood, and 2) Makin’ stuff.

I see that you’re still single (which should be a crime!): what is your ideal boyfriend?

I have a lot of qualities I’m looking for. The first would be that he loves the Lord. I’m a Christian, so if he’s not, then we wouldn’t have the most important thing in common. The second would be that he has to be someone I could see myself marrying, because I’m not interested in scattering pieces of my heart all over Oregon. I’ve been on two dates in my life(both with guys I’ve been friends with for a long time and was not/am not now romantically interested in), and both times I was worried that things would become weird or awkward, or that we wouldn’t be able to be friends anymore. So I have decided that I really don’t want to put myself in that place unless it’s someone I could marry. And for someone I could marry, I have a really long list of things I’m holding out for, which I won’t post here. The long list is because I know myself, and when I have a crush on a guy, I don’t think clearly. I prayed about it, and thought on it quite awhile before I wrote it down, and I believe that someone out there fulfills the whole thing, and he’s going to be worth the long wait.

Why did you start blogging?

I started blogging on MySpace in 2005. I was living in a two-bedroom house with 3 other girls and I was the least busy, so I had a lot of free time. I’ve always been a homebody, and with no one else around, I had to find something to do. And you can only watch so many movies in a day, right? I guess I started blogging because I’ve always been able to think more clearly and communicate more eloquently when I’m writing or typing, as opposed to trying to make my squirrelly tongue say what I want it to. I’m pretty introverted, so when I talk to people, I’m easily flustered. I always end up feeling like I didn’t quite say what I meant to, or I wasn’t able to make the other person understand, and then I feel even more awkward than I already do at any given moment. (I hate feeling awkward… I hate watching other people feel awkward too. It’s like a physical pain, even just to watch.) So when I’m typing, I’m able to say what I actually mean to say, and I feel like I communicated something, rather than just being a fountain of weird noises that don’t make sense. Sometimes I read what I wrote, then go back and edit it before I publish, but for the most part I don’t need to. The simple fact that no one’s waiting on me to finish my sentence gives me immense freedom. So I can say things that I would never be able to say to someone’s face. And that relieves some of the pressure of all these thoughts that float around in my head. I only started this blog in November of 2007… I was hungry for something new, and I wanted to start fresh, to write something that I didn’t need to censor as much, since no one I knew even knew it existed.

I see that you’re 26 and in one of your posts, you didn’t seem to happy about it. Why? Did you think your life would be different at 26 from what it is?

I really am not one of those people who is always worried about becoming old. I think it just hits me every once in awhile. 25 was a hard birthday too, in that sense. I guess it has something to do with the fact that I sort of feel like maybe I should have my act together by now, like I should have a job that pays me enough to have my own house, or I should be married and have a couple kids, or something. When my parents got married, they were 23 and 19. My mom was 21 when she had me, and by the time she was my age she had 3 kids and another on the way. When I was little, I always used to think that I would probably be the same way, especially since my only ambition, career-wise, was to be a mother. So I guess sometimes I feel like my life is slipping away, and I haven’t even started living it yet. I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do… what if I don’t ever get married? I’ll have to do something with my life. Even if I do get married, I would like to be a whole person who’s not just waiting for a husband to come complete me. But I have no idea how to do that, so I feel a little despondent. I don’t even know where to start, which makes me feel like I’m hopeless. So yeah, I feel a little bit depressed about how my life is right now. I wish it was something else, but I’m not sure what that something else should look like.

Do your friends/family know about your blog (and read it?)

My youngest brother knows about it and reads it. He is a computer geek (Hi, brother!) and he helps me if I want to do something that’s beyond my (very limited) scope of HTML knowledge. My little sister knows about it, and sometimes reads it. She has it on her little Google Reader thing, but she never checks it. My mom and dad know that it exists, I think, but I’m pretty sure they don’t read it, and I’m pretty sure neither of my other two brothers even know about it. None of my friends know about it, that I know of. I would only suspect one (maybe two) of them to be capable of finding it, but nobody has said anything yet, so who knows. It’s kind of freeing this way, though, which is why I haven’t told anyone about it. It’s not a secret, but… I’m not going to be spreading the word. If that makes any sense.

If you could meet anyone – dead or alive – who would it be?

Probably Jesus, but not in the way that means I die. I falter in my faith all the time, and sometimes I’m afraid that he doesn’t love me… that maybe I try so hard to be saved, but I’m not. It would mean a lot to be able to look in his eyes and ask him if he really does love me… I think it would help me keep on truckin’ when all I feel like doing is giving up. I don’t know if other Christians feel that way. Maybe they don’t, or maybe they’re just better at hiding it. All I know is I’m sick of putting on my game face, all the while dying inside.

What has been the happiest day of your life so far?

Hmm… man, this one’s hard. I am naturally a little pessimistic, so I tend to find the clouds amongst the silver linings. Maybe the day my soon-to-be roommates asked me if I wanted to live with them. They were all three living in this tiny little two-bedroom house, and my friend invited me over one night. He told me that they were going to have dinner and worship, and would I like to come? I wasn’t sure what it was all about… I thought that it was a married couple’s house, and they were having a dinner party or something. I asked him if it was really alright if I came, and he said, of course. So he gave me the address and I made it there, and then their neighbor came out while I was parking and told me not to park where I was. I was already a little nervous when I was driving over there, and that lady sure didn’t help. I made it to the door alright, and when I went inside, there was this crowd of people who were all just hanging around and talking, and the girls who lived there were in the kitchen cooking spaghetti to feed all of these people. I had met the girls a couple other times… my brother lived with my friend who invited me, so sometimes I’d stop by to see my brother and they’d be just leaving or whatnot. But I didn’t know them really at all, except for their names. So we all ate dinner, sitting on couches and the floor, and then one of the girls and my friend who invited me there busted out guitars and we all sang worship songs. A bunch of people left when we were done singing, but a bunch of us sat around on the kitchen floor and talked until midnight or so. The girls invited me to come back the next week (they did this thing every Tuesday), and I drove home. When I got home, I told my mom all about it and told her that that was the sort of place I’d like to live in someday. The next week, one of the girls called me on Tuesday afternoon to make sure that I was coming. I said yeah, and she sounded really excited. When I hung up, I was sort of like… huh. It didn’t seem like such a formal place that they needed to count who was going to be there… oh well. So I headed over at 7 or so, and after I’d been there for about a half an hour, they told me that they needed to talk to me, and ushered me into the back bedroom. I was really nervous… I’ve always hated that phrase. I was sure they were going to tell me my pants had a hole in the butt or that my fly was undone or something. We all sat on the bed that was in there, and they all looked like they were about to burst. I said, What is it? And they were so excited that they took turns saying one word at a time: We. Were. Thinking. About. Adding. Another. Roommate. What. Do. You. Think? And I said, You want me to live with you? And they all nodded and giggled, and I giggled a little bit too. Then I told them that I would have to think about it, and make sure that I could afford it and stuff, and I told them I’d give them an answer next week. The next week I told them I’d move in, and I moved in the following Saturday. It was a really fast journey from barely knowing them to living with them, but the years I spent in that house were precious, and they’re all such very dear friends now. The original three all eventually moved out, one by one, and each time God would bring just the right person. All told, 9 girls, including me, lived in that house. And it all started with that one night of excited girls giggling out one word at a time. (Man, that’s a long paragraph.)

What was the saddest?

Probably the day my (now sister-in-law) roommate told me she was moving out of our house. She told me via voicemail when I was stranded in the Las Vegas airport, and the next day I found out that my brother asked her out. I was sure we weren’t going to be friends anymore, that my brother was going to steal her away, and I was right for a time. Our relationship grew to be really rocky and painful. I had been really close to my brother, and really close to her, but once they started dating they hung out with each other instead of me, and it hurt. I handled it badly, and so did they, but I think those wounds have healed. We’re really close friends again now, but man… those days were dark.

What do you think is the coolest thing about blogging?

I’ve mentioned it before, but I think for me the coolest thing about blogging is ease with which words pour out of me. It won’t happen if I ever meet you in person, but I’m able to spill my guts with such honesty and clarity when I type or write that it’s therapeutic. I think it helps me process to see it all in black and white in front of me, too. I’ve always kept some sort of journal or diary sporadically, but I type much faster than I write, which helps me get my thoughts out, because I think faster than I can write. I think faster than I can type too, but at least it’s faster to type than write. I think that even if someday I want to keep some sort of private journal that no one’s allowed to read, it will probably just be a text document that will grow until it crashes my computer or something, because it kills my hand to write as much as I would like to.

Thanks so much, Liz, for your questions. It’s nice to be asked stuff instead of just having to think of something to say.


This is what beautiful looks like.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this subject lately… so many women have issues with their bodies, myself included. And you girls all know all the usual suspects… billboards, magazines, movies, television, romance novels (would you really want a heaving bosom anyway? I don’t get that.) and the like. I love this Dove commercial that’s been floating around on YouTube, because it displays an important truth: Advertisements lie to women. They say that you have to be This Thin and have beautiful flowing hair and sultry, smoky eyes and full, pouty lips and be a 32D… but most people don’t look like that! It’s telling that models even have to be Photoshopped, because they’re not good enough! Girls, why are we buying this lie? It sucks.

I read in a book recently that you can’t give what you don’t have. We’re taught that loving ourselves is just vanity and pride, but can you really love other people if you don’t know how to love yourself? Even the Bible says, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Leviticus 19:18) So if that’s the case, obviously we are to love ourselves. Otherwise we’ll go around saying, “You’re fat, and you’re ugly, and whoa! Look at that bird’s nest of hair. Looks like you could use a shower. You’re a lazy bum, and you’ll never amount to anything. You can never do anything right… you always just screw everything up.”

I want to kick that habit, so that someday when I have children, they won’t grow up thinking poisonous thoughts about themselves that will only cause them hurt and not growth. So I stole this idea from Trudi Evans via Big Fat Deal: I wrote on my bathroom mirror, “This is what beautiful looks like.” I had to take it a step further, because that’s how I roll, and I put an arrow pointing to the place where my face is in the mirror, just to emphasize the point.


That’s me, in all my unwashed glory. I am who I am; I look like this sometimes. Sometimes I look better, sometimes I look worse, but dangit… that’s me. I have pretty eyes, and my laugh is infectious (not in the bad way). My hair is cute, even after 4 days with no shower. It’s a little greasy, but it’s still cute. I have cute toes. I have graceful hands. I have a sparkly little nose ring and an upper cartilage piercing, and four normal earlobe piercings. I wear a ring I made myself, by tying silver wire in a knot. I can carry a tune, and someone told me once I sound like Jennifer Knapp, and sometimes I do… sometimes I sound like Sarah Kelly, and sometimes I sound like JJ Heller, and I can imitate Sarah McLachlan pretty decently too. I have a mole on my left cheek that mirrors the one my dad has on his right cheek. I smell good, even unshowered, because of my love affair with things that smell good. My skin is really soft, except on my feet, but whose feet are soft anyway? They’re for walking, and that’s what they do. And besides, my toes are cute.

Have you ever seen The Kid? The premise is that the main character’s 8-year-old self time travels to the future. He’s chubby and sort of a dweeb, and he’s clumsy and has a lateral lisp. And he always seems to be doing something weird, but he’s really sweet and endearing and funny. And Bruce Willis’ character can’t stop yelling at him and telling him that he’s a loser (because that’s how he sees himself). And every time I watch it I hate to see him yelling at his little self, but that’s exactly what I do to my own little self every single day. At the end-ish of the movie, there’s a scene where he hugs his little self and comforts him, and I think we all maybe need some of that. I love that movie! I’m pretty sure I could watch it every day. Which is now possible, because The Married One and The BFF gave it to me for my birthday! Woot. I love those peeps.

I have no thrilling conclusion, other than to say that I’m trying to learn how to love myself, flaws and all, so that I can learn to love other people too. And, on a more selfish level, so that I can stop being so stinking depressed by my usual lame outlook on my life, which is that I’m ugly and dumb and I suck at being a person. So I raise my hands to the sky and scream along with Bruce Willis: I AM NOT A LOSER!


After a dearth of posting from me, two in one day!  Not too shabby.  Too bad neither of them are real posts.

I stole this from Meg Fowler… it just seemed interesting.

Lemon or lime?  Lime.  All things lime are wonderful.  Though lemon is amazing too…
Edamame or corn on the cob?  Corn.  But cut off the cob… I have this tooth thing… I hate having stuff stuck in them.
Curries or jambalaya?  I’ve never had jambalaya, but I love me some curry.
Papaya or mango? Mango, mango, mango.  I would kiss (on the cheek) the person who would give me a mango this week.  I love mangoes, and I haven’t had one since the summer.  Poo.
Coffee or tea?  Coffee.  Tea is just dirty leaf water.
Still or sparkling water?  Still… but Talking Rain has this new (I think) flavor, Lime Mojito… heaven.  I’ve always said that if I was going to drink, I would drink a mojito.  I once invented a drink at the coffee shop where I used to work that was a Mojito truffle… mint & lime syrups & chocolate sauce=yummy.
Lobster or crabcakes? Not sure… not much of a seafood fan.  Maybe lobster?
Stew or stirfry?  Stirfry.  If I believed in reincarnation, I’m pretty sure that I would have been Asian in a past life.  Seriously.  I can’t get enough of it.
Vinaigrette or ranch/creamy dressing?  Vinaigrette all the way.  Ranch is only for dipping.
7-UP or Coke? 7-Up.  But I’d rather have Dr. Pepper, or Pomegranate 7-Up.
Bell peppers or carrots? Peppers… Carrots sometimes make my throat itch.
Milk or soy milk? Regular.  Soy makes my throat itch too.
Nacho or potato chips? Potato… mmm…
Lettuce or spinach? A mix of both, thanks so much.
Gummi bears or licorice? Gummy WORMS.  They’re better.
Potatoes or rice? Can I have noodles?
Sourdough or multigrain? Oooh… I love both.  No white bread for me unless it’s fermented, baby.
Chocolate or vanilla?  Usually vanilla, but it depends on what it is.
Sushi or teriyaki? Teriyaki.
BBQ or pizza?  Pizza, unless it’s hot wings.  I love me some hot wings.
Olives or pickles? Both.  I love both.  You know what’s really good, that I thought wouldn’t be?  Pickled green beans.  They’re my new favorite.
Sandwich or salad? Depends on the sandwich.  Probably salad.
Roast chicken or roast beef? Chicken.
Hot fudge or caramel? Caramel.
Risotto or pasta? I’ve never actually had risotto… I’d like to.
Apple pie or lemon meringue? They both have their place… I’d have to base it on what was for dinner.
Appetizers or dessert? Dessert… I have a huge sweet tooth.
Grapes or berries? Strawberries.  Grapes are okay, and I really don’t like any other kind of berry… it’s weird, I know.
Ice cream or sorbet? Ice cream… with big chunks of candy in it.

In Which I Spew Forth Random Thoughts.

We just finished putting up our Christmas decorations for this season. Our tree is probably, by some peoples’ standards, rather overdressed, but what can I say? We have a lot of ornaments. We have lots of antique hand-blown, hand-painted glass balls that my Dad’s mom gave my parents when they first were married. They are cool. We also have the same kind of thing most families have… you know, of the popsicle-stick craft persuasion. And we have a bunch of just really random ornaments. We have this one that is Santa & Mrs. Claus in their trailer… Santa’s just sittin’ there watchin’ TV. I think it’s cute. And then there’s the gift tags… my dad has this strange compulsion to save gift tags that are cool looking, punch a hole in them and stick ’em on the tree. Which, though I think it’s sort of weird, I have to admit is kind of cool. At least it’s unique… I can honestly say that no other Christmas tree I’ve ever seen has had even one gift-tag-cum-tree-decoration, let alone multiples.

My sister just dropped by the computer and tried to put my underwear on my head. “They fell out of the basket!” O…kay… So here I sit, typing my blog post, with a pair of underwear in my lap. It’s sort of hard to be any kind of serious when, in the back of your mind, you are aware that there’s a pair of stripey underwear hangin’ out in your lap.

So, I bought a bag of Hershey’s Kisses, ’cause I had me a powerful craving (I really am not a hillbilly… I just type like I am) to get me some chocolate. And I ate a few, and then I noticed that instead of just saying “Hershey’s Kisses” on the little paper tag thingie, these ones have random phrases. Phrases like “Kiss Someone” and “You Rock.” Why? is my question. What right does a turdpile-shaped piece of chocolate have to instruct me to bestow smooches on another person? What makes Hershey’s think I need affirmation from a substance which, while wonderful (don’t get me wrong– I love Kisses), will most definitely make me Not Rock if I eat too many? On the other hand, I just ate four in a row that didn’t have the paper at all. I don’t know why, but I hate the paperless ones, even if it means I don’t have to analyze some pithy axiom. I’m just saying.

I love that the suggestions for labels that Blogger provides are “e.g. scooters, vacation, fall.” I don’t think I would ever have occasion to label a post “scooters,” but maybe that’s just me. I just think it’s deliciously random. I mean, really, how many people blog about scooters?

I love Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie by Joanna Newsom. I have no idea what anything in that song means, but the tune is simple, pure, melancholy and beautiful. “And some machines are dropped from great heights lovingly… and some great bellies ache with many bumblebees.” I don’t get it, but I don’t really care, because it’s such a pretty song. (Confession: sometimes, when no one else is home, I play this song and sing along really loudly in my dining/living room, because we just put in laminate flooring and it echoes beautifully.) This would be a good sing-in-the-shower song, if I did that (I have no idea why I don’t… I sing everywhere else, which embarrasses Pippy to no end when we’re out in public, but if I’m in the shower, I am endeavoring with everything in my power to make no noise whatsoever. What is that?), but I don’t. Though I think it has more to do with my paranoia of people watching/listening to me when I have no idea… it’s one of those weird things. But I think if I had my own house, I might sing in the shower. So… yeah. Anyway.

I just (yesterday or the day before, don’t remember which) joined a group called 20-Something Bloggers… I’m curious to see what happens. I have 4 subscribers now, instead of two, but I really don’t know how to analyze my Feed Burner thingie to figure out if anyone’s actually reading this besides The Croodler and Pippy. We’ll see how things go.

In Which I List Things I Love.

Things I Love:

Song I love: “Yes You Have” by Leeland, or pretty much anything by Leeland. “Inflammatory Writ” by Joanna Newsom (the video has two bad words… so beware).

Food I love: Pad Thai. Hummus. Falafel with yogurt/cilantro/jalapeno sauce. Basically anything foreign.
Thing I love to look at: Pretty things. The dresses in Pride & Prejudice. Anything that’s green or brown or a pretty color of blue. This:

“Wind” by Steven N. Meyers

Sound I love: A baby’s various noises. Music. Pippy’s giggle.

Thing I love to laugh at: Other people laughing.

Gadget I love: iPods.

Person I love: There are so many… I don’t even know where to start.

Software I love: The Gimp. Like Photoshop, only free.

Word I love: “Pwn‘d!”

Thing I love on the internet: Social networking sites.

Place I’d love to go on vacation: Ireland. Thailand (without the lame consequences Alice endures in Brokedown Palace). Great Britain. Indiana.

Sensation I love: Back massages.

Animal I love: Puppies of all kinds.

Book I love: Princess Academy by Shannon Hale

Emotion I love: The kind that makes you cry because you’re so happy.

Occasion I love: Christmas. My birthday. Other peoples’ birthdays.

Quality I love in people: Kindness. Humor. Love.

Thing I most love to shop for: Used clothing… I love me some Goodwill.

And finally…

What I love about today: I took a shower for the first time in waaay too long, and I got perfume samples in the mail, so I smell pretty.

(Courtesy of Meg, whose blog I just started reading)