Under The Table

http://tabletonic.blogspot.com/2010/04/modern-wisdom_26.html

Listening to: Eddie Vedder

Making: A scrapbook about France

Consuming: Lagunitas Pale Ale

Loving: The single life, my job (for giving me the night off)

Thankful for: Carl, for introducing me to Grooveshark

Sorry, no ‘Clever’ today. Come back soon!

“Home is where you pour yourself a drink at the end of a long day.”

Actually, I just made that up. But it makes sense, don’t you think? How often does the bartender hand you a bottle and say, ‘Help yourself’?

(I thought so.) 

Home has been a complicated place for me over the last several months. After my roommate moved out, the space was nearly barren. Sure, I had furniture, but it didn’t come close to filling my apartment and there was a distinct absence of cozy.

Then Gavin and Kimberly came over and, like a pair of HGTV Tasmanian Devils, they completely transformed my apartment with stuff I already had.

The difference was amazing! Suddenly ‘home’ became a place I actually wanted to be. I’ve lived in this apartment for 21 months and for the first time it feels like it’s mine. 

I do the dishes every three days. Pretty much every minute I’m home I’ve got music playing. (Right now, ‘Love of the Loveless’ by The Eels.) The TV is on, but muted. The flickering screen adds movement to an otherwise still space, which I like.

I’ve got candles burning, a belly full of sushi and no one to answer to.

I miss Tuesday Glee nights and having a partner-in-crime. When I run out of floss or conditioner, I’m kinda screwed.

But it as it turns out … I’m pretty good company, too.

This time last year, I was spending the day with my first real relationship in Seattle, maybe my first real relationship ever (the borders of these things are often murky.)

But Chris, or ‘the Canadian’ as he was known to most of you, was for real.  He was bright and youthful and blond. He was smart and sweet.

We went to Whidbey Island on Memorial Day, and it was the first (and only) time we both had a day off during three months of dating. We staged a kiss on the bridge overlooking Deception Pass. I’ve always loved that picture, it reminds me of an old movie poster; a dramatic moment with nothing but evergreens and water in the background.

Kissing was the thing we were best at. When it came to talking and relating and sharing we were just OK. He’s with someone else now, and that makes me happy.

By the way, Happy Memorial Day! I hope you’re spending it with someone special. (Yourself, perhaps?)

Sorry I’m a bit late today. I thought I didn’t have energy to write – it’s been a long weekend. But then, after work, the following events happen:

My car’s battery is dead.

I realize I left the headlights on for about seven hours.

I did not hear my car’s beeping noise because I was listening to Weezer on my iPod.

When I try to call for help, phone battery is also dead.

I find a co-worker to help me.

A hot guy I know passes by. He doesn’t see me, and given the task at hand it feels inappropriate to chat up a boy anyway.

We are unable to jump my car.

Coworker gives me a ride home and I order a pizza. What else can you do when even your car doesn’t have any juice left?

(So … guess which one was the most disappointing part of my evening?)

It’s Saturday afternoon and the sun is shining in Seattle. I’m sitting at Portalis on Ballard Avenue, enjoying some food and wine and getting a little writing done. A girl, maybe 5 walks by with her mom. “Look,” she says, pointing at me, “her sweatshirt AND her computer are blue.”

It’s been a great day so far. And now I’m writing for you, so I think it will only get better.

I woke up this morning to a text message from my boss, commending me for a job well done when the Liquor Board did something sneaky last night. (They sent in a 19-year-old trying to buy beer.)

Then I hopped out of bed and put on my favorite musical guilty pleasure. I had a nice dance around the living room before taking a shower and putting away laundry.

I came down to Ballard Avenue for a scone and a latte, did a little shopping and bought the Xx album. I took a walk in the sun and ended up in this wine bar, with its big windows open to the sidewalk.

I remember coming to Portalis with Gavin five years ago and him insisting, with utter glee, that I study in France. And I remember, even before that, him pointing this place out to me as we were driving around Seattle. We promised each other we would come back after I turned 21.

And now here I am, drinking pink bubbles and enjoying pâté  

This, as they say, is the life.

So … I’m a wee bit ‘stuck’ at a desk today. I’m not sure why I thought it would be OK to skip breakfast. A caramel latte simply CANNOT sustain a person ALL DAY.

I’ve been reading and writing and surfing the Internet. Everything I’ve been doing is making me hungrier! Must 86 all food blogs, restaurant reviews and the dining section of the New York Times. Seriously. I’m about to start eating my hair.

I’m sure they’d let me dash out for food, but now I’ve only got 90 minutes. I can make it!

Besides, music feeds the soul … right? I’ve got plenty of that.

It’s Friday! 

The Glee version of ‘Friday’ makes me want to get up and dance and wave my arms around. It’s a good feeling to have on a Sunday afternoon. 

It also makes me want to write my own ode to my favorite day of the week (Sunday, natch.) If you dare, you can scope out the original version of this song here. The song is infectious, but also ridiculous. Leave it to Glee to turn something silly into gold.

What are you listening to this weekend? 

Good

Monday night. Three courses of goat. (Dessert was a goat’s milk panna cotta.)

Bad 

Wednesday afternoon. I found 14 packets of Taco Bell Hot Sauce in my bedroom. They were all in one place, not scattered around. Somehow I think that makes it better.

 Ugly

Wednesday night. Half a bottle of bubbly, one glass of red wine and three Hanky Panky cocktails. Lisa, Trina you are wonderful company. Hangover, you SO are not.