And that's all I've got to say about that.
So many good things come with autumn every year, but this will be the first year that we are spending the fall in our new house. I am so excited about decorating for the season. (No tacky stuff, though. I am always shocked at the number of people who think those blow-up Halloween scenes and plastic light-up gravestones are a good idea.) Also, the festivities. Oh, the festivities! We are hosting Thanksgiving this year for Kelly's side of the family, and you know I am geeking out so bad over this. Getting all Martha Stewart-y with the planning. I have no idea how we are going to fit so many people in our tiny doll house -- we may have to eat dinner in shifts -- but I am thrilled nonetheless.
The seed catalogs that I ordered are also starting to come in the mail. One of my favorite memories of childhood is also one of the reasons I decided to move back to Michigan. I remember so fondly my mom's huge vegetable garden, how I'd sit in the dirt among the rows of green as she gardened, digging alongside her and picking strawberries, tomatoes, or cucumbers right off the vine and munching on them when they were still warm from the sun. I get dreamy looking at the seed catalogs nowadays, and so excited at the realization that I'm going to get to plant my very own, real live garden in my yard next spring. I can picture my own little ones digging alongside me in the Midwestern dirt one day (ahem, if we decide to stay in Michigan).
And only 6 days until Halloween! I can't wait to have trick-or-treaters. That might just deserve its own post. Also, I think we might try to get the bulldog into a tutu for the local Halloween parade. Which would definitely be worthy of its own post.
It is a new season here in our household in so many ways. The past year has been such a challenge to navigate through; I guess even before that we were so busy making plans, hoping that things would turn out just the way we wanted them to. What I know now is that we couldn't possibly have anticipated the path the universe has taken us down, all of the bumps and detours in the road and these rather unexpected destinations. What I know now is what people who know better sometimes tell you: to be happy, stop expecting the happiness to look like what you thought it would look like.
In a way I sort of wish I had been blogging throughout this journey. But I suppose it is just as well that I hadn't; no need to dwell in a past full of frustration and unhappiness. I'd rather remember the good things that I know are to come.
Thinkin' that I might bring back my blog. We'll see.
So, I moved from Maine to Michigan in September. September was filled with hopeful Pollyanna-isms, each day a new beginning. In October, doubt about my choice to move began creeping in. November was marked by despair. In December, January, and February, I sunk into a black hole of depression. In March, I began seeking ways out of it. It is April now, and I am just beginning to see the absurdity and humor in the situation, and trying to enjoy the journey while seeking out the right destination. Who knows where I'll end up, but I am happy to say that I am laughing and smiling again.
We are soon moving out of the apartment which received us into the state. Goodbye, kitchen that is so small that I sweep the floor with a whiskbroom. I will not really miss you. But I will be grateful for you teaching me the lesson that I can live with very few physical possessions in a very small space. And for the laughter that you provided me and my girlfriend after arguments when we realized that there was no where to go in the place where we weren't in view of the other.
Goodbye, Conservative Christian City. I will not really miss you either. But I will always remember the way that you forced me to stand up for myself, and how I feel braver and stronger for having been in the shark tank. And at least I have found a target market if I ever decide to begin a Christian bumper sticker business.
And I have an interview this Friday for a new job which, if I do get, I think I will like a lot better than the job I'm in now. But even if I don't get this job, I know I will aggressively pursue another. So I will also bid adieu my current position. Goodbye, current job. There will be nothing about you that I will miss. Okay, maybe I will miss overhearing the gay guy and the straight guy that sit behind me and flirt with each other all day. That is pretty awkward and funny.
And so here I am in my new life, living in a place that I thought I knew, but now I'm trying to get to know all over again. I am trying to remember to look for the positive in the everyday and realize that I might just be here for a good reason (although I haven't quite figured out what that reason might be just yet). And I'm trying to remember to laugh as I move from one absurd situation to the next, viewing my life more as a comedy than a tragedy. Because you can't make this stuff up, folks - it's solid comedy gold.
Things I miss about Maine:
- Tofu & seitan
- Gay people, and people who like gay people
- Democrats
- Bicycling and walking everywhere
- The ocean
- Cars without the Jesus Fish symbol thing on their bumper
We are going to visit the Ann Arbor/Ypsilanti area again this weekend, and hopefully explore a little bit more. There are parts of that area that really appeal to us, and I have a feeling that we would be a little less homesick if we lived there instead of western Michigan. I have no idea why we didn't listen to the numerous people that told us that this was the Conservative Republican/Christian capitol of the state. All I know is that I want to run far, far away.
In non-moving news, I am starting to craft and sew again. Once in a while over the last few months, I would open the doors of my sewing cabinet and stare wistfully inside, but I just couldn't bring myself to actually start a project. This moving depression totally ruined my crafting mojo, but thank God, I think I am starting to get some of it back. Making things is like the best anti-depressant ever.
Once upon a time there was a girl, we'll call her Amy, who lived in Maine. Amy lived on a little street, which we'll call Herman Street, in the "bad" neighborhood in a little town called Portland. Amy had a full time job with full medical and dental benefits and a retirement plan, and her regular paychecks, although small, managed to pay the bills. This job also paid for her to go to school, which she loved even though she complained about it often. She also had a wonderful partner who was everything she had ever wanted, great friends who she didn't hang out with nearly often enough through no error on their part, and a pretty cute and reasonably priced apartment.
The problem with Amy is that she never knew when to leave well enough alone. She complained about her circumstances, always focusing on what she didn't have rather than what she did have. Amy was a dreamer, and carried herself through life peeping over imaginary fences, seeing the grass as greener over the other side. She made big plans to jump the biggest fence she could imagine clearing: Amy would move across the country. Oh, she reasoned, The grass over there has affordable housing, and we'll live closer to our families if we live on that grass, and I feel more at home on that grass.
But, as it often does, the grass seemed to change colors once Amy was on the other side. It wasn't so green anymore once she couldn't find a job for five freaking months and she killed at least 10 various species of bugs a week in her crappy apartment and the area where they lived in was so backwards that her partner couldn't even come out as gay at work for fear of persecution. Amy started wondering if she had misperceived the shade of the grass on the previous side of the fence, and pondering whether it was possible that a fence, once jumped, could be jumped again in the reverse direction.
But Amy definitely had learned a huge life lesson through all of this, and although she now questions her own ability to make large decisions, she is attempting to move forward in her life. Whether that will involve staying on the current grass, jumping back to the previous grass, or moving to different grass entirely is yet to be determined by Amy's now slightly shaky self-confidence.
The end. Sort of.
Sewing with a pattern is great in times of stress because it offers concrete directions to help you accomplish something when you otherwise feel like you can't get anything done in real life. You can tell I'm stressed out, because I stayed up past midnight on Sunday night in a fit of crafting frenzy, making this shirt. I always make those darn dresses that are cute and sweet, but not so practical for everyday wear (go ahead, just ask me about the time I came back from the restroom at work with my dress tucked into my undies). So my solution is to make shirts instead for a while.
This one was super simple to make, and took me about 4 hours from start to finish (so satisfying). The pattern envelope recommended more slinky fabrics, not cotton, and now I think I see why. I still haven't forgiven the shirt for looking so much like hospital scrubs, but I'm wearing it nonetheless, and I'll give it a couple of points for cuteness in the category of under-bust gathers and for the fabric print.
Other than stress causing my crafting frenzies, it also causes me to have anxiety-filled dreams all night. Last night I dreamt that I was a character in a Harry Potter-like world, and I was so upset because everyone had magic powers but me. Actually, it was that I used to have magic powers, but I had somehow lost them, like they just stopped working one day. (Read: I used to be able to control my life, but lately I feel out of control. I coulda been a psychology major.)
Dear friends,
It is 900 degrees (no really, I think it actually is) in my 4th-floor apartment on this lovely July day, and I'm sitting in the hottest room in our house, writing to tell you what I did on my summer vacation.
Do you know about Bar Harbor? Of course you do. Everyone knows about Bar Harbor, it is no secret. Martha Stewart has a summer house there, did you know that? I was hoping to have an encounter of the Martha Stewart kind while we were there last week, you know, like standing in line at the convenience store, finding her buying Cool Ranch Doritos or something. "Hi, Martha, How's it going? Cool Ranch is my favorite, too." That sort of thing. Or maybe a Slurpee. Martha Stewart drinking a Slurpee. For some reason, that seems very endearing to me. Anyway, no luck on the Martha Stewart encounters this time. But maybe if you visited Mt. Desert Island, you might run into her. It's worth a shot. I'd keep an eye out on the convenience stores, if I were you.
Oh, and there's other stuff around the island, too. Like this, for instance:
I guess that was pretty cool to see, as well. I'd been to Acadia before, but this was the first time I went up Cadillac Mountain. Everything felt and looked sort of surreal up there, like time was just standing still and the whole earth was just holding its breath. The little islands offshore looked like whales mid-swim to me.
The day before that, we went on an adventure to Thuya Garden & Lodge and the Asticou Azalea Gardens, which are these crazy elaborate nature walks & gardens built by rich people a long time ago. We found out about them pretty randomly right before we went (they're kind of hidden), and we were so glad we did.
And the rest of our vacation was mostly spent back at our campsite, where we spent the week getting camp-filthy, gorging ourselves on delicious camp food, and getting alternately eaten alive by bugs and soaked by thunderstorms.
But I got to wear a straw cowboy hat around all week. With pigtails, no less. And that's all you really need to make a good vacation, isn't it?
More photos here.
After a marathon-length period of non-posting, here's a little update on what I'm up to lately:
I think I'm going to start trying to get in the habit of updating my Vox more frequently, both to chronicle my life's happenings and let you know what I'm up to!

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