Well, Mother Nature’s birthday present to me was a nice cold. It started with bone dry nose, sinuses, and throat. Now it’s slowly evolving into stuffed nose (but still bone dry sinuses and throat) and a phlem-y cough that’s settled into my lungs. Sounds fab, doesn’t it? Lol. The boy has it too, but he’s further along than I, so I guess technically he gave it to me, but I forgive him. *grin*

It’s snowing heavily here in NY. Nice light, fluffy snow that seems to be very common around here. Unlike the tiny frigid ice pellets whipped around by the gale-force winds back home.

Today is laundry day. The boy and I are almost out of clothing. Not looking forward to going to the laundromat. Next apartment will definitely have to have at least laundry facilities in the building, if not in the apartment.

My ginger snaps turned out nice the other day and yesterday and boy and I went to Bear Mountain and saw the “zoo,” which was cool, but also quite sad. The animals were in quite small cages outdoors (with shelter from the wind and rain, of course) and while they were all either found irrevocably injured or orphans raised as pets/in captivity, some of the cages were too small for them  (oh, they could walk around and jump on stuff, but not much room to run). I felt especially sorry for the otter, who seemed (unlike the others) to be trying to escape, repeating the same movements over and over again, returning to the cage door. I’m hoping his supper was just late, as other animals were eating as we walked through in the late afternoon.

Well, the boy is out of the shower, so I should go. Don’t want to go outside today, but after laundry, tonight is definitely going to be cuddling indoors. We’ll eat leftover comfort food for dinner and I’ll attempt to make stovetop popcorn (in a kettle) for Terminator 3, which is on AMC tonight.

Hope everyone is staying warm and dry!

So, it’s my birthday today. Except, it doesn’t really feel like my birthday. In fact, birthdays haven’t felt like birthdays for a long while now. I’m not really sure why. I think it’s because when you’re a child, you can’t wait to “grow up,” and there are presents and cake and dress-up clothes and games (sometimes) and family and friends. But since turning 21, there are really no more rites of passage left. First there was 10, then 13 (when you were officially a “teen”), then 16 (driver’s license, permit, “sweet,” what have you), then 17 (you could get into rated R movies), 18 (vote, gamble, and smoke, I personally avoided the last two), 20 (two decades old!), and finally 21 (booze it up, boys and girls!).

Now the rites of passage are different and not marked by age (well, unless you count 26, which is apparently when you can rent a car), but by event: love, marriages (or maybe just moving in together), the births of children (yours or others’), the deaths of friends and relatives, new jobs and careers, moving (whether across town or across the country), etc.

The rites of passage associated with birthdays after 21 are all ones to dread or fear. Turning 25 (quarter-century crisis, anyone?). Turning 30 (officially “old”). Turning 40, and 50, and so on. Our society has a strange fascination with youth (odd, because although youth can be strong and beautiful, it can also be short-sighted, cocky and arrogant, delusional about reality, impulsive, materialistic, and all at once so very insecure.) and an even stranger fear of growing old.

I don’t think people fear death so much (though it’s a persistent, if far-off fear) as they fear growing old with the associated health problems, wrinkles, grey hair, lack of strength and energy (although there are plenty of “old” people I know with more energy than my little sister, who, at nearly-19 is in her so-called “prime.”), etc.

I, on the other hand, kind of like getting older. Although I like children, I certainly don’t want to be one. I’ve always preferred the company of adults, even as a child. I like adult conversations and adult food (mainly, vegetables) and going to adult places (no, not the strip joint; museums and historic sites and places most kids today would find utterly boring).

I’m not sure what I’m trying to say here, just that even though I kind of look forward to growing older, birthdays feel kind of hollow to me. Maybe it’s because we get fewer presents as an adult. *grin*

I’m spending my birthday today baking ginger snaps from scratch. And possibly a cake from scratch, though I’ll have to use glass baking dishes instead of cake pans. I didn’t sleep in, but don’t really feel any worse for wear because of it. And tonight I’m going to get all dolled up as the boy is taking me out for dinner. To a nice German restaurant he’s never been to, but which was recommended to him by a friend. *smile* We’ll see how that goes.

Anywho, just thought I’d ramble about birthdays before I go and get ready for my day. 24 years and I’m none the worse for wear. Unless, of course, I keep eating my own baked goods. *grin* Now I’m off to shower and then sit in the sunshine and read for a bit before tackling dishes and baking. After all, what better present is there than sunshine and gingersnaps on a cold, clear, January day?

So, I’ve never really considered myself a “witch,” per se, but the label “kitchen witch” is one I probably most closely identify with when it comes to paganism. In fact, I wrote about reclaiming kitchen witchery quite a while back.

It’s easy to see why:

• I’m a foodie.
• I love to be creative in the kitchen.
• For some reason I suddenly love vegetables almost as much as I love bread and cheese.
• I like a clean house/room/living space (even if I sometimes procrastinate cleaning it).
• I like to entertain.
• I love sharing food and meals that I’ve cooked.
• I almost always cook from scratch and bake from scratch when I can (after all, if you’re going to go through the effort of cooking and/or baking, why not go the whole nine yards?) but I like simple recipes.
• I love thinking about flavors and what compliments what.
• It gives me satisfaction to see something go from dirty to clean.
• I am very passionate about sustainable agriculture.

See what I mean? *grin*

I’m in upstate NY visiting the boy again. Have been here for just over a week and he’s at work today *frowny face* so I did the dishes, cleaned the kitchen somewhat, tidied up, and am intending to make ginger snaps after lunch (from scratch, out of a sweet old baking cookbook I found at the library and so want to steal. *sigh* Boo conscience!) and something yummy for supper. Probably orange glazed chicken breasts with scallion smashed potatoes and green beans tossed in a mustard vinaigrette. With montmorency cherries and vanilla ice cream and ginger snaps for dessert. YUM!

But I digress. The whole “kitsch” thing in the title has to do with little ol’ feminst me turning into a ’50s housewife. Yep, you heard right.

Last week the boy and I were up at his parents and some old friends of his invited us over for dinner. We said we’d bring dessert, so what did I do? I made a chocolate layer cake with caramel pecan frosting from scratch. My hair was up in hot rollers while I made the frosting and I put on a pencil skirt and sweater tights and pumps before we went. All I lacked was an apron and a housedress while cooking. *rolls eyes* It was kind of awesome, but also a little scary.

Also, at home I’ve got ’30s- and ’50s-style apron patterns and vintage-looking fabric to make sweet aprons out of. I’ve taken to collecting vintage cookbooks of all kinds (along with sustainable, organic ones *grin*). I’m slowly amassing every useful kitchen implement (but not necessarily small appliance) necessary for a well-stocked kitchen (I’ve got a madeleine pan and white ceramic cake pedestal, but still need cake pans and more glass mixing bowls).

I’ve been reading Frances Mayes Bella Tuscany (she wrote the novel, Under the Tuscan Sun) which is kind of like an autobiographical travelogue of she and her husband’s sabbatical stay in their house in Tuscany and their travels around the region. Of course, food plays a central role. So far it’s quite good and I think it’s part of the reason why I’m in this housewife-y mood.

Where I’m at in the book right now is describing spring, which I think is another part of the problem, along with the fact that the boy’s apartment is heated by radiators which are going constantly, leading to a steamy apartment that I correct by opening the windows to the open air. It makes me think it’s spring, though it’s only January.

Speaking of, tomorrow is my birthday! I will be 24, which I think is a good age. I’m determined to enjoy my 20s, even if I have to spend the majority of them in school and poor. Alas, the boy has to work, so I’ll be alone for most of the day. I might splurge and go out tonight and buy myself nice cake pans as a birthday present. Or maybe a pie plate. I also finished Pascale Le Draoulec’s American Pie: Slices of Life (and Pie) from America’s Backroads, which was another sort of travelogue, only the off-the-beaten-path kind driven by diners and cafes and old women’s kitchens. It makes me want to attempt pie crust, and even though I don’t have a hand mixer (it’s at home. Can’t wait to move in with the boy so I can consolidate our things! *grin*), I think one of the recipies just called for mixing the pastry with a fork. Plus, I’ll be up early, what with the boy leaving for work, and early morning is apparently the best time to make pie crust, when the day is quiet and you’re not in a rush to do anything or go anywhere. Well, we’ll see. I might also want to spend my birthday sleeping in *grin*.

Well, *sigh* I’m hungry for lunch, so I think I’ll go whip up some burrito salad out of leftovers (spanish rice, whole black beans, tomatoes, corn, spinach, sour cream, blue corn chips, romaine, mexican blend shredded cheese, and maybe a little salsa… maybe…).Yum… time to eat!

So, for the longest time, I’ve been trying to reconcile my desire to celebrate the seasons (in a quasi-Pagan manner) with the fact that a modern lifestyle makes this near-impossible. Well, without feeling totally flat and fake anyway (for instance, I could drink lots of milk and make dairy-based food at Imbolc, but since not only do I not own sheep or cows, nor do I live anywhere near them, this seems a bit silly).

I should also note that I am a complete sustainable agriculture nerd, and that since working at an upscale pastry shop, my ag nerdiness has melded with a new-found foodie/gourmand status to make some sort of strange, super-hero-like attribute that evangelizes the glory of locally grown sustainable veggies and whips up glorious dishes to convince people painlessly and with a minimum of rhetoric.

Of course, that’s not always easy, given that I don’t have a garden of my own, nor do I have the time to frequent local farmers’ markets, which last only from late June til late September in this climate. Hence the conundrum.

But today, the obvious occured to me: If I want to celebrate the seasons, I’ve got to get a lot closer to them, and a good way to do that is through food.

I love food. I love good food. I love eating sensibly (i.e. lots of fresh fruits and veggies) but sensuously (i.e. butter and cheese and eggs and juicy roast chicken and sugar aren’t outlawed). I love sharing food. I love trying new and obscure things (Persimmons? not my favorite. Sorrel? Lovely!) and making new flavor combinations (cranberry sauce with pomegranate seeds = amazing!). I love cooking, even if I hate cleaning up afterwards.

I also love the things that go hand-in-hand with good food: a beautifully set table, good friends & family, and good conversation.

The thing about connecting to sustainable agriculture on a tastebud level is that you also connect inherently with the seasons. Even though I can’t buy farmer-direct where I live, I never buy strawberries or other out-of-season fruits in the winter. I never EVER buy “fresh” tomatoes from the supermarket (it’s canned or straight from Mom’s garden, for me!). I buy citrus fruits, greens and root veggies in winter. Greens and new veg (peas, asparagus, etc.) in spring. Berries and tomatoes and cucumbers and baby zucchini and squash (although rarely from the supermarket) in the summer. Pumpkins and squash and pit fruit (peaches, plums, nectarines) in late summer/early fall. Apples and pears and grapes between fall and winter.

The point I’m trying to make is that food connects us to the seasons (and the past) more deeply and more firmly than any ritual ever could. Particularly since modern Pagan rituals are tied to the Gregorian calendar (inherently Christian) and not the actual weather/seasons around them.

So that’s my goal for the coming new year: to get closer to the earth through food. I’m hoping that when I move to NY, I can maybe buy a half-share in a CSA for my boyfriend and I. That way I get to try new (and sometimes strange!) veggies, I have a link to a farm I could visit/volunteer at if I wanted, and I would have a reason to cook more often (my boyfriend’s favorite, since he’s a bit lost in the kitchen).

I’m discovering that the more I think about it, the more I throw off the trappings of Paganism (magick, spells, rituals, visualizing, special names/clothes/tools/etc.), which I find increasingly hollow, and the more I want to get back to… something… something older… something less concerned with magick and the Gods and more concerned with plants and animals and the sun and the moon and the earth.

I guess that’s what they mean when the say earth-based spirituality. But even that kind of thing seems to be based more in Wicca and far less in historical fact (hey! I’m a historian, I have to be a stickler for some things!). I older and more independent I get, the more I want to go with my gut (aka “intuition”) and the more I reject the modern trappings of “spirituality.”

Although, today I was researching the Unitarian Universalist Church, which intrigues me. Though I was raised ELCA Lutheran, and I never minded getting up, getting dressed up, and going to church, and I loved the music, I disliked being told what to do and believe. Also, the idea of “sin” really bothered me, particularly original sin (though that doesn’t have much place in ELCA churches these days), as well as evangelism/the idea that this belief was inherently right and that others were inherently wrong. The UUC does the whole, open-minded tolerant thing, and they’re also into social justice, women’s rights, the environment, etc., which I’m also interested in.

HOWEVER, though I consider myself to be politically and socially liberal (though fiscally conservative), I feel uncomfortable with the whole “fluffy bunny” side of liberalism that seems to spawn New-Age-y “spirituality” that isn’t grounded in anything. I’m all for tolerance and respect of others and their beliefs. I’m interested in learning about how others view the world and sharing in their customs, traditions, and culture. I’m not at all interested in being surrounded by people who appropriate whatever feels “right” to them, regardless of whether or not they understand what they are doing.

*rueful grin* Okay, from epiphany into rant! Anywho, it’s blizzarding out (has been all day, haven’t left the house all day) and I’m doing laundry (five loads! Ooof! There goes that roll of quarters…), which I should probably attend to. I just felt like sharing my epiphany (and apparently my rant) and updating teh blog.

Hope everyone in the northern climes of the world is staying warm!

Wheee! Long time no update. Well, I went and visited C in October and we were planning on doing all of this fun stuff together and visiting his parents and a lot of his friends, but things went awry. You see, C got into a bad car accident the night before I was supposed to arrive. Luckily, both he and the other driver were fine, but C’s Jeep was hit right on the axle, which didn’t bend the frame or anything, but cracked the axle. It’s an old Jeep, a ‘97, and since it was his fault (he was pulling out of a parking lot blind at a bad intersection), the insurance company declared it totaled (even though it’s probably fixable).

So, when my flight got in at 10pm that Saturday, we went to go pick up poor Eugene (his Jeep) and then drive north to his parents’, further upstate. We didn’t get in until 3 am. So it was kind of an exhausting day, but still fun.

It’s weird. I love C deeply, but after we’ve been apart for a while, it always takes getting used to him again when we are together. It never takes very long, just a few minutes, but it’s still strange. Usually because he always wants to kiss me right away (which I think is cute, but always takes me by surprise), but I’m thinking to myself, “No wait, let me get used to you first!” It’s very weird and I’m not sure what to make of it sometimes.

Anyway, so we spent the first four days at his parents’ upstate. I pretty much love them. And they apparently love me. They made me feel totally at home and welcome and both his mom and dad are so funny! I can see where he gets his conversational skills and good humor. Even C’s grumpy younger brother, who we’ll call “Moose” because not only is that C’s nickname for him (out of hearing range, anyway), but the kid is 6′5″ and is always stomping around the house, started conversations (however brief) with me. He apparently doesn’t do that with anyone.

So yes, I got unofficially adopted into C’s family. In fact, as we were leaving his parents’ for the second time and I was piling our luggage by the back door, C’s dad stopped washing dishes (C was in the shower), turned to me, and said, “I wish you weren’ leaving. You didn’t stay here near long enough.” Which of course made me think, “Awwwww!” to myself. I assured him that I would be back in January and that he couldn’t keep me away, to which he replied, “I’m not trying to keep you away!” It was lovely.

And so was upstate NY. His parents live really upstate (about an hour west of Albany) and C lives further downstate (about an hour north of NYC) in the Hudson River Valley. Since it was mid-October, all the trees were in full color (though by the time I was leaving, many had dropped their leaves and were sporting bare branches) and the first week was unseasonably warm. The second week was much colder, and rainier, but I loved it all the same. C and I went for a few long walks up at his parents’ and it was absolutely gorgeous. They live out in the country. Also, no matter where you are upstate, it seems as though there are historic houses and farms (and barns!) every few blocks. It’s wonderful.

It’s also very rural. Really, upstate NY is a lot like southern Minnesota, but with mountains. I thought I would be claustrophobic with all those trees, but there are lots of open fields upstate and up on the mountainsides (and tops) there’s room to breathe. I love it and can’t wait to live there. And I really didn’t want to leave…

In other news: I’m almost done with my job at the pastry shop, which I will be both sad and glad to leave. I love the people there and I see so much potential in the shop, and I love being able to suggest flavor combinations and new ideas. BUT, I will be very glad to get my nights and weekends back. The non-profit job is almost over, too. I’ll be done with both by the end of the month. To replace them, I’ll be working full- or near-to-full-time at my parents’ floral shop and also doing independent historical research for this guy who wants me to do his family history (which includes his Norwegian immigrant ancestors; he even talked about flying my to Norway to do research!!!).

I’m going to Ohio to visit relatives for Xmas and also for a cousin’s wedding. C and I were going to try and be together for New Year’s, but the plane tickets my dad got fly us back home on Jan. 2nd, so there just wasn’t enough time. However, I’m going back to NY in late January (for my birthday!) to visit C again and he’s coming to visit me in March or April.

I’m moving home (probably) in late January or February to save money to buy a car and move to NY. I’m hoping to move by late May so I can get a seasonal job at one of the historic sites down there. However, I’ll be moving in with C and I haven’t told my parents about it yet. I’m not sure how they’ll react. I think I’ll tell them after C visits in the spring. Or maybe even while he’s here. *sigh* We’ll see. Not only do I want to move in with him because I love and miss him and want to be with him desperately, but also because it just makes more economic sense. No sense in us paying $1,400-1,600 a month for two one-bedroom apartments when we could spend $1,000 on a really nice two-bedroom.

Not only that, but I totally want a place of my own that I’m going to be settled in for a few years. It’s very strange, because I’ve had to pick up and move just about every year for the last six years. Twice a year for all of college. And while I’ve been in this apartment for almost a year, I’m going to be moving home, and then to NY, in less than 6 months. And I’ll probably stay in C’s one-bedroom temporarily until we can find a new place.

All I really want is a little house. A house with one master bedroom and maybe a spare for guests, an office/library, a living room/den, a dining room, and a big kitchen. I don’t want rooms that are too big (when you have a whole house, why bother?) and not something so big that it’s hard to clean. I’d like a porch and a fireplace, and a gas stove, but they’re not required. Lots of windows (energy efficient ones, please!) would be nice, too. And a postage-stamp-sized back yard just big enough for a small veggie garden and a little lawn. I want a place where I can settle in and nail things into the walls (although, technically, I’ve done that in this apartment) and slowly collect good furniture and invest in oodles of bookshelves and collect kitchen things and paint the walls pretty colors. I really kind of want to be settled in one spot and stay there for a while. Maybe not forever, but for five years at the very least. I want to have enough time for it to become “home.”

*sigh*

It snowed yesterday. Not the big, fluffy, fairytale snow that NY seems to have plenty of, but sleet turned to hard little pellets of snow/ice that stung when the wind whipped them in your face. Strangely enough, it wasn’t that cold out outside of the wind, but in it it was freezing. Not much snow accumulated, just a light dusting drifted into corners and frosting roofs. *sigh* So, after a long Indian summer, winter is finally here, probably to stay.

I will miss the northern plains when I move to NY, mostly for the people, but also for the landscape. But I do not think I will miss the winters.

I’m off to go make some hot tea and curl up in bed before work at 4. I’m cold!

Hmm, long time no update. Well, that’s not really true. I’ve been updating quite frequently, but they’ve all been about my boyfriend, so I’ve kept them private.

This one includes C. (my guy), but in a much more roundabout way. You see, I’m moving to New York in the spring or early summer and I’m likely going to move in with him. We belong together, it seems, and we’ve already started dreaming about our future together, which includes a house in the country.

So this morning, I woke up around 8:30 and since I didn’t have to work today, went back to sleep. It was in this second sleep that I dreamed. I dreamt that C. and I were house hunting (this being some years in the future) and we found this perfect Georgian-turned-Federalist house, white with slate blue shutters, two story, fireplaces on both ends, and single story wings on either side – one a screened porch, the other a well-windowed sitting room. It was for sale, obviously, and not very expensive. The current owners had torn out the plants around the house and put in that horrid crushed rock landscaping. There was an apple orchard out back, but apparently no one knew they were apple trees, as they hadn’t fruited last year. The realtor kept calling the house “colonial revival” and it eventually dawned on us that she didn’t know how old the house was.

I kept asking practical questions about old wiring and leak points on the roof and insulation and drafts around windows and doors. She was confused; the owners hadn’t gotten the house inspected. I said we wouldn’t sign until it was, and then I intended to bargain based on what work needed to be done. But it was obvious that this house was a treasure and pretty much everything C. and I had wanted.

Then the dream skips, and we are living in this house, and one night I wake up in the middle of the night to find some weird skeletal thing hovering near our bed. Now, I consider myself something of a lapsed Pagan, as I don’t practice and I don’t regularly petition or thank the Gods for anything. But this thing, it made me do the first thing I could think of: fling up a protection shield of white light with the “Elhaz” rune shining bright in red on six sides of me and my sleeping boy. The skeleton thing (it was male, I could tell somehow) cackled and said, “So, a witch lives here now!” I almost protested that I wasn’t a witch, then I realized that maybe I was. The skeleton thing kept circling my shield, looking for weak spots, but somehow, without my even trying, the shield was perfect and held.

It was stymied, and I knew both that it wished us harm and that I couldn’t hold the shield forever, however easy it seemed to be. So I grabbed some string from my knitting basket by my bed, and began to bind it with knots. First, I bound it to our property. Then I bound it against harming any living thing or disturbing the dead. Then I bound that if it broke the first two rules, it would be sent back to wherever it came from, or sent on to wherever it was supposed to be. I repeated the bindings with two more sets of three knots, nine in total.

It called me a clever witch and floated away, not really angry as far as I could tell.

I didn’t banish it because I didn’t want it hurting anyone else.

Fast forward in the dream and by now it had become a kind of wry companion, haunting our house and offering up snarky comments that only I could hear, and I got used to it. Even enjoyed its company occasionally, even though I knew that it harbored a great evil.

And then one day, it was simply gone. I didn’t know which of the rules it had broken, but it was gone. And while our house was lighter than it was, it was also emptier, and just a teeny bit sadder.

Isn’t that the strangest dream? I have no idea what it means, though it did show me that in times of trial, I will always turn to magick and warding before I will turn to God, or really, even the Gods. Which is sort of strange, because I’d always thought myself more into the religious aspects of things than the Craft. And in my dreams, these things worked.

I think my dream was heavily influenced by the future C. and I had been dreaming about, and by Good Omens, the Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman book I recently re-read. In Pratchett’s world, and in mine, I think, Death is a pretty funny, wry sort of guy, even though he’s a little terrifying. Maybe that’s where skeletor came from.

It’s funny, because C. is a “lutheran” meaning he was raised Lutheran, but no one in his family has gone to church for about 8 years. He knows that I consider myself Pagan, though we have never really talked about it. And maybe we should. Because while I don’t think I’ll feel the need to perform any spells or anything in the forseeable future, it would be nice to ward our new apartment or house without him freaking out. Lol.

Also, during the whole dream, C. was kind of a background character. He never once woke up whilst I was binding skeletor, nor did he seem to notice his presence. But neither did he seem to notice when I was talking to nothing. Really, C. played almost no part in my dream, except for that I knew he was there. Which was strange in and of itself.

It was a strange dream, but not a bad one. Maybe someday I’ll actually know what it meant.

Whee! Finally, something finally contemplative and spiritual…

It’s spring. There’s still snow on the ground, and the daily temps rarely reach much past 35 these days, but spring is on its way. It’s Holy Week in the Christian calendar year, with Easter Sunday coming up soon. But I find myself completely detached from the drama in the desert and far more involved with the drama of wet earth and cool damp air and the promise of green growing things.

Easter is all about the miracle of Jesus rising from the dead and the promise of Christian eternal life. But I can feel the older version in my bones. The version that much of Paganism is built on: the promise not of necromancy, not of endless life, but of eternal, cyclical rebirth. The promise that winter will always end, green growing things and warm sunlight will always return, and that life will get easier, for a little while, at least.

Of course, the flip side of that is the knowledge that nothing can last unchanged forever and that all things must die. But in spring, such things are far removed.

I love it in the spring when there is snow still on the ground, but it is melting, and you can smell the water and earth on the breezes. I’m going to get a garden this year, in conjunction with some friends (shared work, shared harvest) and I’m really excited about it. I want to grow easy things that I eat lots of. It will not only save me money, but also connect me with the earth and food and friends. Plus, growing your own food is the ultimate in going local. *grin*

I wonder which Norse God would correspond best with gardens? Frey is supposedly the God of fertility and agriculture (though as a weather God, Thor also plays a role in that), but I feel like Frigga would be a better fit. Frejya is to me the Goddess of wild spaces, of dark fae woods and sparkling streams and enchanted, rocky inlets. So while perhaps her twin is the God of agriculture, Frigga seems to me to be the guardian of gardens, especially those that grow food for the table. Because feeding people is almost entirely the purvey of the mother (or at least a nurturing soul, regardless of gender), and Frigga is nothing if not the ultimate Mother.

*sigh* I’m so excited for spring. I’m already wearing brighter colors and lusting after spring-ish shoes. At the same time, I’m dreading the coming heat of summer. But looking forward to the visit of my guy in July!

Spring definitely feels like rebirth this year. I’m living on my own (bills and all) for the first time ever (although, concession: I have a roommate). I finally have a romantic love. I’m becoming increasingly organized and responsible, but still managing to have fun. I’m starting to work out (yay me! the freshman 30 needs to go away). With a garden I’ll hopefully eat better. I’m pampering myself a little more. For the most part, I just feel really good.

Things are a still a little uncertain. I don’t know where I’ll be next year, though I have an idea of where I’ll be in five years. Lol. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay in this job for another year, though I’d like to. If I can’t, I might have to try and get a job on the East Coast and move. My guy wants me to move to New York to be closer to him (though really, making any decision before he visits is rushing things waaaay too much), and I’m really tempted by the Public History programs at SUNY Albany and NYU. But we’ll see. Like I said, things are still up in the air. *laughs* But for once, I’m not really freaking out about it. Que sera, sera, I guess. I’ll leave it in the hands of Fate. After all, She delivered my guy to me (well, kind of), didn’t She?

I’m a firm believer in free will, but at the same time, I feel like the Universe throws things your way that you’re supposed to get, supposed to understand. And if you don’t, maybe you’re not ready for or worthy of them. Maybe that’s why I didn’t find my guy until now. Granted, he’s halfway across the continent, but I also tend to think that things in life that you have to work for are much sweeter than those you don’t. It both sucks and is nice that we’ve never met in person. It sucks because I want to be with him, be able to touch him, look him in the eyes. On the other hand, it’s nice because we’ve fallen in love with each others’ personalities.

At this point in my life, I feel like I pretty much know who I am. I know what I like and don’t like, what I’m open to and what I’m adamant about, what I need out of my relationships. Living with my roommate has taught me that last one. We are ridiculously compatible roommates, and I’ve had a lot of roommates, so I know. But J and I didn’t move in together until December. And C (my guy) and I didn’t really click until late January. So I feel like after years and years and years of no really close relationships, the Universe is throwing me into them. But instead of sinking, like I thought I might, I’m actually swimming quiet strongly. It’s kind of awesome, actually.

For the most part, I’m just really happy. The only things I’ve got to really work on are getting in shape (this is a major one) and working a little on my relationship with my parents/family. We don’t have a bad relationship, it’s just not as open as I’d like.

Okay, wow, so while that started out spiritual, it quickly got kind of introspective, but that’s okay. And now I really need to clean before J and my friend comes over!

It effing pours. Why is it, that when all I really want to do is call my boy on the phone and talk for hours, every single one of my friends decides that this week is a good time to hang out? Lol. *sigh*

I’ve gone out to eat for the last four days, and I’m going over to a friend’s tonight for dinner. And I work tomorrow night. My poor boy is going to feel neglected…

Our schedules really do suck, since I work nights more than days, and he’s got a 9-5 job. He calls and wakes me up in the morning when he gets to work, and I call and wake him up at night when I get home (there’s an hour time difference). It’s sickeningly adorable.

Life has been busy but good lately. Lots of grant writing, lots of talking to my man (it really sucks that he lives in NY and I live in ND, but he’s coming to visit this summer), lots of serving pastries for little pay. Not as much trying to figure out the plan of action for the next year, mostly because my life is so up in the air and it’s just easier to ignore it for now than to worry over problems I can’t solve at the moment.

Not much communing with the Gods lately. Although my guy’s father did have major surgery, and so I asked Eir to look over him, and he pulled through just fine, so I’m grateful to Her for that. *wry grin* Maybe I really am Eir’s Initiate. I still need to properly thank her. But with what? A nice glass of red wine and dark chocolate? Decadent and antioxidant-rich? No, somehow she’s too austere for that kind of thing. Maybe a simple thank you is all she really wants. I can’t tell. I’ll figure something out, anyway.

Lots of plans going on for spring. Trying to get a mini gardening co-op together. We’ll see if it works. Also trying to set my home life in order. I love my roommate lots, though, so that’s pretty easy. We still haven’t put up our framed wall art, though, it’s been leaning up against a wall in the living room for the past two months. *grin* Somehow we just never get around to it.

*sigh* But I should really try to actually work on one of these grants. *sigh* Just thought I’d update about mundane stuff. And no, you’re not getting details about my guy. *grin* Unless you ask really, really nicely. Then… maybe… *grin*

It’s true. I’m a fairly independent woman, and I never had patience for those who chased men. I waited, patiently, taking care of myself and biding my time. And now, I’m glad I did. Because an amazing guy has appeared out of the blue, and totally by happenstance in my life. Of course, he lives halfway across the country, but still. It’s perfect.

So now, of course, I’m far too distracted to get any work done, much less write in my blog. *grin* But that’s okay, it’s fun and new.

I think this year is bringing a new sense of optimism. I could do anything. Even though whether or not I’ll be at this museum job for another year (my contract is up in May) is entirely up in the air, for once I’m kind of okay not knowing. For now, I’m just planning my life as if I am going to be here.

Of course, then if they can’t keep me on another year, then there’s the question of what the hell I’m going to do with my life. And graduate school is included in that equation. Except that I have a one-year lease on this apartment that I moved into in December. *sigh* So things might get complicated very quickly.

But somehow, that doesn’t get me down. Maybe that’s what romance does to a girl. *grin* Makes everything seem more bearable.

But I blather. Apologies to those who were looking for profundity. At the moment, I have none. *smile* And now I’m off to practice my neglected violin!

So wow, long time no update! It is by now well into the new year, and I have to say, it feels different from every other year. Unlike the usual, I have had no problems transferring from writing “07″ to “08″ on checks and in notes. For once I’m not in school, which is a blessing in and of itself. But also, there’s a strange sense of comfort. I’m just now settling in to my apartment (though I still don’t have all the furniture I need, like a chest of drawers; I’m living out of plastic bins!), and it’s really starting to feel like home. Dirty kitchen and all. *wry grin*

The only resolution I made this year was to write daily in a journal (a hard copy one). Alas, it’s become every two or three days now, but that’s okay.

I’ve decided to take on some sewing projects this year. I’m currently making a handbag for my roommate’s birthday present. It’s very cute. Alas, I’ve been sinking my spending money (and then some) into beautiful fabric from the remnants store. I’ve been buying a yard at a time, but I think I might start doing a yard and a half, because I want to be able to make cute summery tops! For summer of course.

Which, by the way, feels farther away than ever. There’s a wind chill advisory for most of the region today, it’s -19 degrees Fahrenheit right now, with a wind chill of up to -35. The high today is supposed to be -10. Ridiculous, I know. Pretty sure I’m going to bundle up hardcore today.

I didn’t make any hardcore resolutions (well, besides journaling), but here are some long-term goals I’d like to work on:

1. Exercise more. Be it actually using my bellydancing DVD, buying a stationary bike or other workout equipment, or jogging or something, I really, really need to get moving. The nice byproduct of this, of course, is desired weightloss and endurance.
2. Learn to sew my own clothes. And therefore learn to make patterns. Because to be quite honest, aside from skirts, easy sewing patterns that are actually cute are few and far between. And expensive! Plus, I’m nonconformist like that. I’d really like to make cute, tailored, summer tops, because I don’t have many. And calico cotton is cute and lightweight and washable.
3. Garden. I’m going to try and get a community garden plot, or maybe I’ll just grow some potted plants on our balcony. Either way, I’ve got a lot to learn!
4. Cook from scratch. More often and healthier stuff. Case in point: I’ve got leftover chicken and a plethora of veggies that need to be made into soup. By today or tomorrow. Hopefully today, but since I work at 4, it’ll probably be tomorrow.
5. Find space and organize. I’m already pretty good at this, but I need to find space in our small apartment for craft projects!
6. Schedule regular office hours for my museum job. I cut back on hours at the pastry shop so I could do this, but I’m still neglecting! And it’s too effing cold to go out to the office. So really, this goal translates into having more self-discipline and not wasting time.

Speaking of, I need to go and either make that soup, or go home and work on my purse project! I think the purse project.