Two days off

I spent my two days off getting caught up--cooking a bunch of food for the week ahead, finishing some scripts, finishing a library book, watching a movie or two, calling people, etc. I'm now officially all caught up, and the week begins again. Another swirl of work, followed by two days of everything else.

But I hope to pay off another debt this week, and to begin planning our road trip in July. On the next nice Monday, we'll day trip to Rainier. It's nice to have little things to look forward to; sometimes during the week it's impossible to think about anything but how tired/hungry/sore I am. I don't mind the schedule, though. I mean, what else am I going to do? It's worth it to pay off those little debts, to start making progress against all the red numbers that have been piling up over the last year.

Cottonwood trees, and our third anniversary

I think I'm allergic to cottonwood trees.

They're a new phenomenon to me--there aren't any on the East Coast and there certainly weren't any in San Diego. When they bloom (which is now), they send out piles of cottonwood fluff; like dandelion fluff, only smaller, featherier, and more pernicious. It creates snow drift-looking embankments, and can't be swept up. It's like exploding a feather pillow all over the countryside. And apparently I'm allergic to it, because now I have a deep hacking cough that won't go away that can't be attributed to anything else.

But, on the plus side, we had an awesome anniversary dinner at my work the other night. It's been three years! Four states in three years of marriage: wonder how many we'll rack up this year?

I traded a co-worker for the night off and brought in two bottles of very nice wine--nearly the very last of all the wine we hauled cross-country with us. We had an amazing dinner, like regular people. Then I worked a double the next day. Good times.

Last night, a rich hedge fund guy came in for dinner and brought five bottles of very old, very rare Burgundy to drink with friends. When they finally left, they left about a quarter of each bottle behind. The wine director estimated that those five bottles were probably worth about $15,000; so, given the amount left behind, and the amount of each that I drank, I probably consumed somewhere between $700 and $1000 worth of rare wine last night. It made up for having to work a double on my anniversary.

Also, today marks one year of hubby's unemployment. We're doing surprisingly well, considering. I'm starting to pay off some (small) debts, and hubby has some job prospects on the horizon.

My sister is moving

It's been too long since I've posted, I know. I keep meaning to, and then surprise! something else takes priority.

Last week was a long one--three doubles back-to-back. I did nothing but work and sleep. By the time my day off rolled around, I was exhausted. But that will be my life from now on: three doubles back-to-back, every week. Work = money. Fortunately my new shoes are all broken in now, and I've been making a point to pamper myself at every opportunity. (Note: pampering myself these days means sitting down and applying ice to some part of my body.)

Other news: my sister is moving, from Mississippi to North Carolina. She'll have had three weeks to do it, from the time they learned they were moving to the time they need to be there. Her husband got a new job. I remember how difficult it was when we moved from San Diego to Boston in three weeks; granted, they're moving a shorter distance, but they have two very small children and an entire household. I don't envy her right now. I wish I lived closer, I'd help out somehow. At the very least watch the kids while they pack. The bad news is that I'll lose my free New Orleans-area housing; the good news is that they'll be about two hours away from my parents, so now a trip to Virginia means I can kill all birds with one stone.

DH's freelance work is going well; by the first part of June we should have an idea of whether it might go full-time. I paid off a (small) debt last week; it was small, but it felt very good to once again be in a position to pay things off. I was reminded last night that this time last year, we were in the middle of DH's company collapse. On May 15, paychecks never showed up. On May 24, everyone was summarily fired. It's been a long year since then, but we've managed to stay financially afloat (indeed, even a little bit ahead of the curve), and we're living in a city we like much better. So we've managed to wrest some good from a very bad situation.

New shoes

As part of my take-better-care-of-myself-and-not-look-like-such-a-schlub-all-the-time campaign, I got myself a new pair of Danskos. They're top of the line restaurant worker shoes, and my previous pair had started to die. (Eventually the cushioning on the inside starts to break down, and then your back starts hurting. That's how you know it's time for a new pair.) I got so excited about new Danskos that I also bought some fancy arch-supporting socks.

However, the first night in them was a nightmare. I could have been wearing heels all night for all the good they did me. They were stiff, tight, boxy, and made everything hurt more.

BUT.

I discovered a great new trick for breaking in tight leather shoes.

Put a Ziploc bag of water in the toe of the shoe. Put the shoes in the freezer overnight. The water will freeze and expand, and force the toe box to stretch.

I tried this with my new shoes, and last night they were perfect.

Also? When you have tired, swollen feet, slipping them into a pair of ice-cold shoes is pretty awesome.

North Cascades National Park, WA

We've had a stretch of epic weather here in Seattle--clear, bright, temperatures in the 70s every day. So when I have a day off, combined with such weather, I take advantage of it.

Yesterday we drove out to North Cascades National Park. It was a perfect day for a drive, and we ended up driving the long way around to loop back home. The Cascades are like the American Alps: rugged, snowy, piney, and largely undeveloped. Here are some of the many pictures:

Just as an aside, a close examination of the Washington state map on the drive home revealed that Washington is home to one Whiskey Dick Mountain.

Swear to God.

It's amazing what a new haircut can do

I've been feeling kinda schlubby the past few months. What with the holidays, and the move, and trying to get a job, and blah blah blah, I've had more important things to do than get a sorely-needed haircut, and deal with my dry skin, and maybe put on lipstick once in a while. You know. Now that there's a steady income stream, I'm starting to deal with all those things that fell by the wayside.

Step 1: deal with dry skin. My face has been weirdly dry for a while--like, peeling--and I went by Sephora and got a new high-powered moisturizer and foundation. And stopped using powder. And got a couple new lipsticks. Also, I'm going to start drinking a gallon of water a day. So, now my face looks much better and healthier.

Step 2: get some new bras. Self-explanatory.

Step 3: get a haircut. While I'm at it, color it. Like all natural blondes, my hair has gotten darker in the last couple of years. That, unfortunately, has made the gray all too apparent. It's also gotten frizzier--I can't shampoo it without it turning into a ball of frizz for at least a couple of days. Yesterday I got a cut (dead ends gone, some better layers), a color (honey-colored lowlights), and a curl cream that should help with the frizziness. So now my hair looks better, too.

Step 4: general maintenance. Floss more, lotion more, attend to dry cuticles, get a massage. Or three.

After all that, I'll tackle my wardrobe. Working in the restaurant industry means I don't need a lot of clothes (blacks for work, jeans for everything else), but the ones I have are starting to look kind of shabby. Ditto DH's clothes--we haven't bothered getting anything new for a couple of years. Again, we won't need a lot, but a few summer things each (and rotating out the old stained stuff) will help a lot. I'll start at the Goodwill and progress to Target.

Hopefully soon I'll look like an actual person, not just a frizzy un-make-upped tired slob all the time.

I've discovered the joy of iced coffee

My relationship with coffee has always been a complicated one. I used to drink a lot of it--really strong, really black, usually on an empty stomach first thing in the morning.

Then, of course, that blew out the inside of my stomach. I started having intense gastrointestinal problems. Someone suggested that I quit drinking coffee and see if that helped. Regretfully, I stopped. And the problems disappeared. So I resigned myself to a lifetime of tea drinking.

After several years, I started making limited forays back into the world of coffee. (This time, with a little cream, and never on an empty stomach.) Usually it was before a long shift at work--as an additional last-minute caffeine boost. And usually it was a doctored-up shot of espresso, since I didn't want to drink an entire cup of regular coffee. Also because both places I work only have an espresso machine, not a regular drip coffee system.

Slowly, I've gotten to the point where I usually have an espresso (with cream) every day that I work. Every once in a while I'll have half a cup of regular coffee at home. I can't drink bad coffee, but I've also never liked coffee drinks--frappacinos and the like. They taste like bitter coffee-flavored whipped cream to me. Or they taste like a glass full of liquid pumpkin pie, or apple fritters, or whatever chemical nonsense has been added into them. They never taste like a fine-restaurant-quality shot of espresso, which is what I've gotten used to drinking.

Yesterday I got to work early, to make my customary espresso with cream. I needed it desperately, as I worked a double yesterday and was exhausted. I'd already had two espressos at my other job, so I knew a third wasn't going to help much.

Then I saw a coworker making an iced coffee.

Glass full of ice, third of a glass of milk, two healthy hits of simple syrup, with a piping hot shot of espresso poured on top. Stir and drink.

It was warm and sunny yesterday, and all of a sudden my brain said, "Yes. Want."

So I made one. And drank it. And it was exactly what I needed to get through the night.

I don't think I'll be buying many iced coffees, as I won't be able to control the sweetness or the quality of the coffee that goes into them. But I do think I'll be making myself many more of them.

Most people won't have a professional-grade espresso machine at home, and that's fine. The secret to a good iced coffee is the quality of the ingredients. Use the very best coffee you can afford, with whole milk or half-and-half, and simple syrup (which absorbs into the drink better than regular sugar). Avoid the temptation to add additional fripperies like whipped cream or chocolate or flavorings--that's not an iced coffee, that's dessert in a glass, and for the same calories I'd rather have a big piece of cake.