What is UP with car-getting? Why is it such a gosh-darn pain to be a grownup?
I mean, the plan today was just to jet over to the DMV to get the license, then dash into Manny's Auto Center to get my cute vehicle.
And yet. Here it is, 5pm, and I'm still carless.
Talk about your all day.
Can't we simplify things, World? Why so many papers to sigh over and sign? Shouldn't there just be one all-inclusive pass that says I'm buying a dang car, I scrawl my new-fangled signature (do you know how trixy it is to switch last names? to remember ones new identity 78 thousand times?) and I drive off into the sunset?
Okay, anyway, a piece of advice: When the car dealer man, Harry, insists that you try some odd object that he's calling a "chicken strip," don't do it. Just don't do it. Tell him you've never been so full.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
As I mentioned, my cats are far away in Utah. My parents report that they used to cry for me, sit and despair in my room. But now they're cool, comfortable as cucumbers. I wish I were thus.
Instead I'm looking over at Sam's kitty, who has his handsome head resting on his paws, and I'm sad that I can't just snuggle him. He, unlike my Meatsock, is not so much into snuggling me. Not that Meatsock REALLY is, either. But memories wax romantic when it comes to these cats. And at least Meatsock will curl up to (and/or playfully attack) my feet. When I stand up or move into a room that Tadzio's already in, he runs away, heads for the nearest table to hide under. Do you know that's like? To have this furry creature dash off at the first site of you? It's a bummer.
Aside from that glitch, and a violent but brief bout of vomiting over the weekend, all is well out here. I finally found a car--a 2006 Toyota Corolla. Red. Very cute, which was my main requirement. I think it's even cuter than this picture because, well, it's MINE. Man, was it a beast to find. And in the end, I did it on my own: found a good deal at a dealership, marched in there, didn't smile or giggle, told him my price, he told me a price a few hundred bucks more, I said okay, and the deal was sealed. Or mostly sealed. We have to finalize things tomorrow, but hopefully I'll be cruising around in my new wheels by tomorrow evening. It's been lame (for Sam, for me) to not have my own means of transportation. I plan on going SHOPPING for CLOTHES while listening to FIONA APPLE and singing really loud: all freedoms one can enjoy in ones own car. And poor Sam can go to BLOCKBUSTER, and listen to ZAPPA very LOUDLY and keep the air conditioning on really COLD. The man gets roasted out when I'm in the car. I understand better a comment my father made some time ago: "From now on, when your mom's in the car, I just have to drive naked." I mean, he didn't. But the point remains: we Earley women run a little on the cold side.
See? Look? Cute car, no? Tell me she's pretty. Tell me she's shiny. Tell me she'll make all my dreams come true.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Went to get my name changed at the Social Security office, which was a very odd feeling. Yes, little lady, please officially make my name Deja Anne Ruddick. Doesn't Jane Eyre say something both beautiful and heartbreaking about becoming Mrs. Rochester? Yeah, it was like that.
More importantly, on the way to the office, I rocked out to this CD that one of Sam's old girlfriends made in like the mid-nineties. Yes, that was weird.
But as it turns out, this gal and I have similar tastes in music. Especially this little number, by Jay-Z. Just listen for a moment. It'll make you happy. H to the izzo, V to izza. I don't know what that means. But I do know what he means when he says, "That's the anthem; throw your damn hands up." I like that part. Why didn't anyone tell me this is the best song in the world?
Also, went to the doc's yesterday and learned I've gained a very impressive FIFTEEN pounds in the last month or so. Thank you, anti-depressents. Thank you, birth control. Thank you, countless fancy-pants dinners and room service breakfasts, and the giant creamy-goodness-filled "lobster tail" we got at Mike's Pastries in the North End.
Yesterday was sobby day, mourning the re-appearance of my big-fat self. But today I feel tough, powerful, like I can hit that gym again. Like I'm totally over the eating of ginormous chocolate chip cookies whenever I feel a little gloomy or happy or itchy on my foot or whatever excuse I fabricate for the eating of cookies.
Vegetables and grains and legumes (what are legumes? beans?), here I come!
Also, don't let me watch scary movies any more. We watched one last night, and at 2 a.m., I dreamed there was a big scary man looming over Sam, threatening to hurt him. I screamed, kicked Sam in the side repeatedly, and started weeping profusely. Poor husband was baffled. I had to keep waking him up so he could rub my shoulder so I could think happy thoughts for an hour before I could get back to sleep: kayaking with my friend Chris on Utah lake, lying with my sisters and mom under the trees on a camping trip, reading a book on sunny Sunday mornings at my parents' house, running with my sisters, driving with Sam to a bookstore in Jackson, Mississippi, sitting on the couch with Sam and kitties when it's raining out, etc. Happy vibes.
Have to go buy a car now. Woo-hoo! Mrs. Ruddick gets a new (old) car!
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Here I am!
What's happened since the last time I posted? Well, I got engaged, then I got married, then Sam (the man in question) and I moved to Boston. And now we live here in a cute little hardwood-floored house with a new king-sized bed, and Sam's kitty.
Kitty is an enormous striped fellow who's obsessed with Sam, and not so impressed with me. Never has been. He's warming up to me, since I sneak him little pieces of cheese and fish skin to win his heart. But if I make a wrong move or pet him for an instant too long, he hisses and swats at me with an enormous paw. All in all, it's nice to have him around because his cat-feet make a lovely sound when they pad across the floor. But mostly I miss my kitties, who will arrive by plane with my mom and dad sometime in October. Which, yeah, they're gonna love that.
Anyway, so another thing that has happened since I last posted? I made this delish black bean/brown rice salad that was in a cookbook my mother gave me for my wedding. Easy, and so tasty. To make:
black bean and brown rice salad
combine, in big bowl:
3 cups cooked brown rice (I used those quick Uncle Ben's pouches.)
1 (16 oz) can black beans
1 (16 oz) can corn
1 (6 oz) jar of roasted red bell peppers, drained and chopped
2 scallions, minced (I used a bit of red onion. Worked great.)
then make dressing, in small bowl:
2 tbsp lime juice
1/4 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 cup olive oil (I used more like 1/8 cup. Didn't miss the rest of it.)
Add the dressing to the rest of it, add some chopped cilantro and top off each serving with half an avocado, sliced.
Anyway, try it out. It's a party in the mouth. We had ours last night with some vegetable samosas from Trader Joe's. (Bless me for living near a Traders. They make me such a happy camper.)
Another thing that happened? I got a lot of bowls for my wedding. Serving, mixing type bowls. I love all of them, but I'm wondering if I have too many. Take a look: The colorful set, I'm definitely keeping, because they cause great joy. The other set, I haven't un-packaged yet. I love it, but I think mostly I love it because Emily had it when I lived with her, and one of my goals in life is to be elegant like Emily. But my question is, even if I have pretty and colorful bowls, and even if I'm elegant like Emily, will I actually use these bowls? Or will they just crowd my cupboard. I'm new to this kitchen-y stuff. So, discuss.
That's all I can manage for now. I need to throw in some laundry and figure out what on earth I will teach when school starts in a very few days.