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Today, Lori's Secret Paranoia Revealed!

Confession time: I have a totally irrational fear of flat tires.  I guess I worry about this more than an actual breakdown because I feel like if my car breaks down, it will be very obvious and also because no one will expect me to be able to do anything about that myself.  But I should probably be able to change a tire, right?  My inability to do this is seriously not in keeping with this whole independent woman thing I'm shooting for.

So when I run over something on the road, I turn off the radio to listen and make sure everything is ok.  Except now I know that there is no need to do so in case of a blowout, no matter how loud you may have the music.  I learned this when I should have been within about two hours of arrival at my new apartment in Madison.

I made it over to the right shoulder, stopped, and called Geico.  After all, I have been paying them for roadside assistance for years now for just such an occasion.  The operator asked me exactly where I was.  I told her that I had just seen a sign telling me that I was 56 miles south of Rockford, Illinois.  This information was no help at all.  I couldn't give her a mile marker and for reasons that pass the understanding, knowing exactly how many miles south of a city I was gave her NO IDEA where on Earth I might be.

She told me to call 911 and have them trace my call.  Which I did.  Except the operator there said no, of course there was no way of tracing my call.  She asked me where I was and was similarly dumbfounded when I reported that I was 56 miles south of Rockford.  She'd have state troopers look for me, but without a mile marker, this could take a long time.  This is also what I was told by the state trooper who called me.  I could be sitting there for quite some time while he searched for me.

Rockford is apparently a cagey city, the location of which cannot be determined by anyone in the Northern Illinois area.

Eventually, Trooper Anderson located me and, God bless him, changed the tire himself.  Which also involved moving the 27 inch TV that was sitting on top of my spare.  Trooper Anderson, you are my hero and if I didn't know that you had a wife from Eau Claire and an eleven year-old son who is a real science whiz, I would have kissed you right on the mouth.

I was off once again, driving roughly thirty miles per hour slower than I had been.  I was nearing the Wisconsin border when I was informed that my couch would not fit through the door to my apartment.  (My movers beat me there by several hours and went ahead and moved my stuff without me.)    Outstanding.

On the other hand, I was informed shortly thereafter that Toppers were on their way.  And, coming into Madison, the view of the Capitol and downtown buildings reflected in the lake is really, really beautiful.  The weather has been perfect and my apartment really is quite adorable.  Maybe, someday, if I ever get all of the boxes out of my living room, I'll take pictures for you.  My new couch should even be here any day now.  Sectional.  Small pieces for fitting through narrow hallways and doors.  My two new tires are also quite lovely.

And I have already been officially welcomed by the city of Madison.

Thanks, Madison.  Happy to be here.

Top of the morning to you. YOU CAN HAVE THE REST OF THE MORNING TOO FOR ALL I CARE.

Bit of a rough morning.

There was the getting up in time to get to work at 7:00 around 7:00 after getting to bed well past midnight.  It was made even more fan-freaking-tastic by the following:

a) Cramps.

b) Having to jam my rings on this morning (they are now living in my wallet) since, hey, someone's  a little puffy today!  Pretty.

c) Some sort of freaky bug bite on the inside of my left ankle which is now red, hot, and swollen.  Making walking around in tennis shoes a real party, let me tell you.

d) Particularly since the socks I am wearing are the ones I threw away because they always slide right off my heel and under my foot when I walk.  Except I packed every last pair of socks that I own, so I grabbed these off the floor next to my overflowed trash can.

e) I went to the first aid kit in the break room to get something to put on the bug bite and had a little laugh over a product called Fem-trin.  Until I gave up on wearing my rings and realized that perhaps I could use such a product.  Except I am fairly certain that Fem-trin is going to contain a diuretic and every trip to the restroom will require putting my left shoe back on.

But hey!  It is my last day of work here!  And I am moving somewhere that only has your garden variety biting insects, rather than The Texan Bugs Of Doom that have been trying for three years now to kill me.    And tonight, I get to see Angela, conveniently located as she is on my way to Madison.  Angela has recently been setting land-speed records for last minute thesis writing, so I have a feeling that she can use a drink just as much as I can.  Margaritas are loaded with anti-histamines, no?

Rethinking this.

Did you know that Madison has only one Target?  And IT IS NOT EVEN SUPER.  The nearest SuperTarget?  IN ILLINOIS. 

What have I done?

(Then again, there's this.)

Edited to Add: Whoops.  I only searched for Targets with pharmacies.  There are indeed two Targets in Madison.  And I learned once again on my lunch break today why I should not have my prescriptions filled at Target anyway.  I had fifteen minutes to kill.  I wanted bottles of water (for I am a considerate move-ee and provide beverages for my movers) and cereal bars.  Then I had fourteen minutes to kill.  In which time I accidentally picked up a skirt and AN OTTOMAN.  Nevermind that I was going to wait until I got there and see what kind of space I had for one.  It was on sale!  I SAVED SIXTEEN DOLLARS.  Curse you Target and your bag of tricks!

Are you sure that you would not like to buy a reasonably priced microwave?

Well.  The packing is certainly coming along.  This is despite the fact that, thanks to having given blood yesterday, I was falling asleep by 9:00 last night.  Almost everything that is easily categorized and labeled is packed, leaving me with all of the dreaded Random.  Random is all of the stuff that you forget about, like cleaning supplies, lampshades, and the Things That Live Under My Bed.  I do not know what all is under there, but I do know that I haven't used any of it in a year and it will be quite dusty.  I know for sure that this includes my old rifle from colorguard which, yes, I should have parted with many moves ago, but for some reason I continue to keep.  I justify keeping it by telling myself that it would make a really excellent weapon in case of a break-in.  Not that it is an actual rifle, but it is solid wood, which can do some real damage when applied to a human skull.  Just ask Tricia, who was in colorguard with me, assuming she remembers that one concussion that she got.

So, to celebrate having reached the Random phase of packing, I present this smorgasbord of randomness:

-I bought a bed from Craig's List.  It turned out to be way nicer than I expected.  It has a pillowtop mattress.  Because just what I needed was to make it even harder to pry myself out of bed in the morning.

-I did not buy the slay bed that I saw posted.  Or my personal favorite item so far, the chester drawers.  Chester Drawers sounds like a guy you don't want near your kids.

-I am finding that people are really amazed that I am driving to Madison all by myself.  They think this is really brave.  Really, it's just driving, which I do all of the time.  Just, you know, more.  It's like driving to work, except instead of stopping at work, I will just keep driving.  Then drive some more.  And then keep on driving.  And spend one million dollars on gas.

-Actually, I really like to drive by myself.  I can stop when I want, where I want.  I can listen to books on CD.  I can sing as loudly as I want, including singing all of the parts on the soundtrack to Rent.  And I think that I am pretty good company.  In case you haven't picked up on this, I find myself terribly amusing.

-Amy keeps saying, "You're going to live in Wisconsin."  And because this really hasn't quite sunk in yet and I am still focused on getting all of the packing done, I keep responding, "STOP SAYING THAT."  Denial is the first stage of moving.  Dropping half of my stuff off at Goodwill is the second.

-I've given away roughly half to three-quarters of my clothes because they were too big (well, some of them were just ugly).  This has left me with a pants collection consisting of one pair of khakis, one pair of khaki-colored linen pants, and the pants that went with my grey Ann Taylor suit, the jacket to which is now comically over-sized.  (I am donating it, along with the skirt, here.  They provide legal advocacy to victims of domestic abuse, who often need something to wear to court, as well as to future job interviews.)  I had one pair of shorts left, but have since bought a second pair.  Really, I tend to wear skirts all summer anyway since shorts never, ever fit me correctly, what with my flat butt and all.  I was suffering a critical shortage of plain-colored Old Navy t-shirts until Amy replenished my supply with all of hers that had become too short for her.  My sweater supply has dwindled to almost nothing.  Can you tell me if people are still wearing sweatercoats?  Because I haven't worn mine since moving to Texas and I'm not sure if it is now woefully out of style.

-There was this pizza place in my college town called Toppers.  Their pizza was pretty awful, but they make these cheesy breadsticks that are the best thing ever of all time.  Amy and I could say to each other, at any time of the night or day, "we should get Toppers" and then we would immediately call  (like everyone else, by "Toppers" we meant "breadsticks".)  Toppers now has a location in Madison which is close enough to deliver to my new apartment.  I am going to have to remind myself often that I no longer have my too-big clothes and will need to limit my Toppers intake accordingly.   But it won't be easy.  Additionally, there will be the issue of kringle.

That's probably more than enough for today, don't you think?

Putting the "packer" in "Packers fan". Ha! (I apologize for this title.)

I packed up my kitchen tonight.

How is it that I have six bins of kitchen stuff?  I NEVER COOK.

(Full disclosure: that top red bin is currently empty.  What is in the dishwasher will go in there along, I assume, with plenty of random non-kitchen stuff.  But still, that puts me at five and a half bins, plus glasses, wine glasses, a microwave, and Kitchen Aid mixer.  Which is vintage and weighs roughly one thousand pounds.  But it was free.)

Currently consoling me: Thursday night I packed eight boxes of books.*  Now there's something I can really use.

*Small boxes, naturally.  This is not my first move.  Or my tenth.

Hanging out the passenger side of his best friend's ride, trying to holler at me

Do you watch Scrubs?  Because you really should and now that it is syndicated all over the place, you really have no excuse not to.  I suppose it's ok if you don't seeing as how I am certainly taking up your Scrubs watching slack, but it means that you will have very limited understanding of what I'm about to post.  Better luck next time.

The thing is, thanks to Scrubs, I now have even more specific information for you regarding my post about the female mind.  While watching an episode, it occurred to me that Inner Crazy Girl is depicted vividly by Dr. Elliot Reid.  So much so that I think we can replace the cumbersome phrase Inner Crazy Girl with the vastly more efficient Inner Elliot.  See, Elliot is neurotic, emotional, and thinks everything that everyone does or says has to do with her.  She is indecisive and doesn't trust her own judgement.  She has an obsessive need for approval.  In the episode I was watching when all of this came to me, she was telling Carla how she was afraid that she couldn't hide the crazy any more from her new boyfriend Nurse Ricky Schroeder and that at any minute she would erupt and spew molten crazy all over him.  If that doesn't cover Inner Elliot, I don't know how else to explain it to you.

But that's not all!  I had previously been told by A Representative Male that there is also an inner guy fighting for control of your male minds.  This guy only thinks about sex.  His actions are motivated by a single-minded desire to get sex.  He can make any innocent comment about sex.  He is, in short,  Inner The Todd.  So boys, it's not as if we didn't know this side of you existed.  We are well aware.  Inner The Todd has screamed at us from construction sites and passing cars.  He has used bad pick up lines in bars.  He has possibly even grabbed my ass in an Italian train station.  But isn't everything a little less scary if you can name it?  I think so.

Notice how Elliot and The Todd never get together.  So I guess it's up to all of us to keep trying to suppress whichever of these personalities may be troubling us (and those around us.)  However, guys, if you have an Inner Dr. Cox, for the love of God, let him out.  I like my men like I like my mochas: tall, hot, and a little bit bitter.  Keeps my Inner Jordan oh so happy.

Painting the town pale pink or perhaps a nice shade of mauve

I thought that maybe I wouldn't be able to get this post to you until afternoon.  After all, I have been gone from work for five days now.  Surely some things would have stacked up.  Ha!

Having five days in a row off was pretty outstanding.  Having Katie to hang out with was also pretty stellar.  And we even got to do some fun Austin stuff that I hadn't quite made it around to yet.  All in all, quite the long weekend.

We focused our efforts in a few key areas: talking, shopping, eating, drinking, and Trivial Pursuit.  (It is not important here to note that I won two out of three games.  The important thing is that we had a good time and learned new and different useless information.  Also that I did not lose as much as she did.)  All of the talking made me realize how little I generally talk in the course of a day.  Not that I am not generally hyperverbal in the form of lots and lots of emails, but talking out loud, not so much.  My throat was actually sore by Thursday night.  Good thing I planned ahead and had something soothing on hand, for medicinal purposes.

We began the first full day of Katie's visit with a pilgrimage up I-35 to that venerable Austin landmark, Ikea.  Ok, really I just needed to go to Ikea and I imagined that going in the middle of the day on a weekday would mean that I-35 wouldn't be overly infuriating.  I was, of course, wrong about that, but Ikea was lovely as was its neighbor, the Round Rock outlets.  We dined at that noted Austin eatery, Ikea.

But day two!  Oh Internet, day two was an Austin extravaganza!  The UT campus!  LBJ Presidential Library!  The capitol!  The bats!  Lunch with Willie Nelson!  Ok that last one is not true!  But I did finally get to see the animatronic LBJ.

And then we ate at Cuba Libre, where the mirror in the ladies' room told Katie what she already knew.

Saturday was more shopping, but this time in hip and trendy SoCo.  Also Target and Walmart, but shut up, Internet, I had errands to get done and a Walmart giftcard from work which I would like to use on storage ottomans which I was hoping they would have in the store but which you can apparently only get online.  Katie bought some really cute shoes in a cute shop on South Congress which, when contrasted with the less cute but more walk-home-from-work appropriate shoes I got at the outlet, really just highlight the difference between us.

That photo also really highlights the way that my feet are three sizes larger.  Outstanding.  And yet, Katie's choice of airplane reading material, when placed next to what was on top of my mail pile proves that we're not so different after all.

Then came Saturday night.  We had plans for Saturday night.  Plans to dress up and curl our hair and hit the town for drinks!  In bars!  With people!  I think it was around the time that we were both falling asleep in our Thai food that we decided that pajamas and Trivial Pursuit were ever more appealing.  I would apologize for disappointing you and yet I do not sense that you are surprised.  I should emphasize here that there were chocolate peanutbutter bars at home.  You try talking yourself into going out under such circumstances.

I would just like to point out here that I was called a geek for turning on the History Channel after What Not to Wear was over on Saturday night.  I was called a geek by a person who was, at the time, reading a Newsweek.  I pointed out that if she watched more educational television, perhaps she wouldn't lose at Trivial Pursuit so much.

It was a good thing we stayed in since we needed our rest for Sunday!  So that Katie could get some Culver's frozen custard in.  (In true Katie fashion, she actually thought to check online ahead of time so that we could schedule our meal there to coincide with the best flavor of the day.  She's a planner.)  And so that we could go to the mall with Amy and also spend time reading in the sunshine in the back yard.  And, um, play more Trivial Pursuit.  And, uh, wow is that really all we did on Sunday?  I think there might have been a lot of HGTV.

So, ok, we needed our rest for yesterday when we covered ourselves in 45 spf sunblock and headed out to Barton Springs.  It is a natural spring and therefore VERY COLD.  Good thing it is already hot as hell here in Austin.  Katie and I took our time, inching forward and keeping each other posted about how we felt about the coldness of the water.  Roughly one hour later, we were in up to our shoulders (if I am exaggerating the time, it is not by much).  I would show you how tan I've gotten except you wouldn't believe that this current skin tone represents "tan" unless I showed you my tan lines and this is a family blog.  Sort of.

We later rewarded ourselves for our hard work with Mexican food and large margaritas.  One of us had a trendy frozen pomegranate margarita and while I promised not to name names, I will tell you that it was not me.  By the time we got home, Amy had freshly baked chocolate chip cookies cooling, and thank goodness, because we had finished the chocolate peanutbutter bars and had been suffering a critical shortage of homemade sweets for upwards of twelve hours.  (Amy: are you sure you do not want to move to Madison with me?)

I took Katie to the airport very early this morning while making every effort not to speed so that I would not be pulled over in my pajamas.  She had work with her and has no doubt already accomplished more work while on the plane than I will have to do all day. 

Seeing as how I have lately become unaccustomed to being awake at such a barbaric hour as it is now (10:30 am) and I therefore cannot think of a conclusion for this post and my public is anxiously awaiting an update (by "my public" I of course mean "Sharon") I will just say that it was a completely marvelous weekend and now I must go and caffeinate myself.  For tonight it is the finale of Gilmore Girls and Amy and I have tasked ourselves with finishing the bottle of vodka.  Perhaps some of Katie's goal-orientedness has rubbed off on me after all.

For 'mid old friends, tried and true, once more we our youth renew.

Today is a very exciting day, Internet!  Because today, Katie comes to visit! 

Those of you who read Daily Tragedies know Katie as a smart and sassy career woman.  But I knew her back when she was a wee smart and sassy fourteen year-old.  Katie and I met in band class in the fall of 1993, introduced by our mutual friend Nicole, who I believe is a doctor now.  All three of us played the clarinet.  It is a testament to the quick emergence of our friendship that the next year, I challenged my chair assignment for the first time.  I was playing the second part, which was fine by me since it wasn't boring like the third part and had, unlike the first part, no terrifying possibility of a solo.  I just challenged to become highest in the second part ranks so that I could sit next to Katie, who was of course playing the first part (and the not-terrifying-for-her solo).

If math is your thing, you have by now figured out that Katie and I have been friends for just shy of fourteen years.  I find this extraordinary.  Not only because that is a long, long time but because we are, in many ways, polar opposites.  Katie does things for the sake of her career.  She has a five year plan.  Whereas my new lease will go through August 14 and I have NO IDEA where I will live on August 15.  That has not yet begun to bother me.  And when I moved to New York, Katie really wanted there to be some sort of valid career-related reason for me to do so.  The actual reason that I moved to New York ("I've always wanted to live in New York!") clearly boggled her mind .  As did, I am sure, being fine with only playing the second part as long as I got to sit by who I wanted.

In fact, when I wrote this post, for Personality One, I thought mostly of myself.  For Personality Two, I thought of a combination of Monica from Friends and Katie.  (I told her that in an email.  I believe her response was "Ha!  Don't tell anyone."  Hi Katie!  Sorry.)  But these differences can be good.  When Katie's five year plan isn't working out like she planned, I try to help her enjoy the deliciousness of uncertainty.  And when the jumbled mess of ideas in my head is making no sense even to me, I email Katie and she helps me untangle it.

This is not to say that we don't have things in common.  We are both huge political geeks.  I assume she feels the same deep sense of satisfaction that I do when the gmail spellchecker says "No misspellings found".   And she is one of the few people in my life who will consent to playing Trivial Pursuit with me, one-on-one.  We have even discovered that we tend to have the same grocery shopping list: yogurt, bag of salad, and...whatever else seems like a good idea at the store, I guess.  Also, we both got called bitches in notes from the same guy in high school.  Katie an uppity bitch, me a self-righteous one.  We continue to argue over which is better.

But well beyond that, there just seems to be something in each of us that is compatible with something in the other in a way that I can't describe.  And there's something about having those friends who know all of your stories and all of your faults and who continue not only to love you, but to really like you too.  Really being known is a terrifying prospect to me and crying in front of people isn't something I do.  Maybe it's because I know she feels the same way that Katie has made it past my rather formidable boundaries.  Maybe it's because she has stuck around all of these years.  Maybe it is because she has literally held my hand when I needed her to.

We spent years living in different places and sitting for hours in Perkins getting caught up over pie when we were home for Christmas.  We lived in DC for a while at the same time and got to know each other as adults.  Now she's in California, and I'm not and we haven't seen each other in three years.  It doesn't feel that long, due to long phone conversations and what can only have been millions of emails.  But on the other hand, it feels like forever since I have seen my friend and I cannot wait for tonight and the five day nonstop talkfest that is sure to follow.

I know there are older photos of us in existence, but this is the best I could do without a trip to my mom's house to raid her photo albums.  I am twenty-one there and just about to move to DC.  And apparently am wearing some sort of large plaid sack.  Katie, on the other hand, is wearing her clothes unstylishly well-fitting.  Bigger was better in 1999, but whatever, Katie.  If you want to appear to have a figure under your clothes, you go right ahead.  Show off.

Status of hell: getting a mite frosty.

Here are five words that I never thought I'd say:

I'M

MOVING

BACK

TO

WISCONSIN.

But it's only for the summer!  I'm moving to Madison, to be specific, which is a great town where I always said I'd love to live if only it weren't so damn cold.  But between the end of May and mid-August, it won't be!  In fact, according to the Internet, the average high temperature in July is 84 degrees.  Whereas, according to my personal observations, the average high in Austin in July is one million degrees.  And if I get the superadorable apartment that I applied for this weekend, I will be very near a park and a lake and all sorts of being-outdoors-in-the-beautiful-weather goodness.  (That's right, Internet, I went to Madison this weekend and I didn't even tell you, for I am a woman of mystery.)  (Not really.)

Just one major downside.  I will surely get my accent back.  People, I worked long and hard to get rid of it.  The Wisconsin accent has got to be one of the unsexiest accents going.  I know several of you reader people live there, and I do so hate to disparage my motherland, but folks, it's worse than you realize.  I may go nasal again against my will, but as God as my witness, I will not return to calling it pop.

Along with the Lone Star State, I am also leaving the go go world of office temping.  I have a job in Madison teaching reading and doing basically what I did back in San Antonio before I left to embark on a fabulous career in the world of educational publishing.  We all see how well that worked out.  It is my experience that teaching is a calling and you can try to run but never actually escape it.  Like Jonah avoiding Nineveh, you only get so far.  Of course, I only wound up in a cubicle in a semiconductor company, which is at least a little bit better than the digestive tract of a big fish (if only because I doubt Jonah had access to free Diet Dr Pepper), but you get the idea. 

Growing up, I always wanted to be a teacher  until people told me that I was too smart and needed to do bigger and more impressive things.  So I got a political science degree instead and wound up...teaching civics.  So as of June, it's back to little chairs and Bob Books and "what does E say?" for me.  To tell you the truth, I'm looking forward to it.  I know that very smart people are supposed to be lawyers or something, but how often does the average attorney get to know without a doubt that he or she has changed the entire trajectory of a person's life?  Because that's what teaching a person to read can do.

So anyway, that's the news.  I move Memorial Day weekend.  And if you live in the Austin area, may Amy and I offer you a reasonably priced printer, microwave, washer/dryer, breadmaker, or end table?  Everything must go!

Seriously, it's like crack to me.

Things I have learned from my Craig's List addiction:

-It is really amazing to me how many people have Awesome! roommates.  Almost every person who is attempting to sublet his or her room in a house or apartment has awesome roommates!  Occasionally they are merely easygoing, laid back, or never home, but mostly they are awesome.

-Sometimes by "junior 1 bedroom" a person actually means "studio apartment with the bed in the closet".  Seriously.  UNDER HER CLOTHES.

-Apparently, nobody finds it odd to list FREE HEAT! as an amenity in a summer sublet.  I find it odd, don't you?

-I am a floor snob.  Carpet, shmarpet.  If it's not all hardwoods, I don't want to live there.

-There are an astonishing number of harvest gold and avacado-colored appliances still in use in apartments.

-Lots of people are clearly in too much of a hurry to get rid of their stuff (Everything Must Go!) to bother checking their spelling.  Armoire, chenille, and parquet are particularly troubling.  Craig's List posters are no francophiles.

And now, for your reference, a Craig's List furniture listing dictionary:

vintage = old

funky = painted it myself

modern = plastic

Ikea = Ikea

Ikea-like = cardboard

scratch = gash

worn = the dog chewed on/peed all over

great = ugly

comfy = fugly

large = the size of a standard elephant

Confidential to Austin people: Hi!  If a third Target desk that matches my Target coffee table shows up on Craig's List, could you please not buy this one before I see it?  Thanks!

Currently addicted to:

-Diet Dr Pepper, as always.

-Craig's List.  Oh my gosh, someone needs to revoke my access now.  Note: checking apartment listings every fifteen minutes is not only excessive, but also rarely satisfying.  (And may lead to dreams wherein you are being shown an apartment by a man on crutches and with a neck brace.  That man turns out to be Tim Russert.  I have no idea why.)

-Vanilla yogurt covered raisins.  Is it possible to OD on yogurt covered raisins?  P.S., Vanilla yogurt covered cranberries?  Could not be grosser.

-Blistex Medicated Lip Balm.  My lips have been hooked on this stuff for years.  I have one right here on my keyboard, saving me from all of the terribly hard work of hoisting my purse into my lap and getting the one out of there.

-The sweet, glorious freedom that is only having the one job.

-Avoiding the pile 0' mail that built up during the scoring gig.  Hi Amy!  I will go through it at some point!  Before we move out.

And you?  Come on people, the first step is admitting you have a problem.  I do not know what the next step is, nor do I care to.

(Also, did you know that as soon as I save this post, Typepad will ask me if I want to create a new post?  GIVE ME A MINUTE, TYPEPAD.  Typepad is a demanding mistress.)