On the Road

Joy of joys, I have MOVED! Yes, I decided to leave the rain and evergreens behind to face the extreme eyeball-shriveling heat of the desert. Or in other words, I chose to get my butt out of that hell-hole I called work and got as far from it as physically possible.

So I hit the road on Sunday, welcoming the trip as a woman does an old lover. Oh, how I've missed the long and windy road along the Columbia River in Oregon.



(Me and my OJ hitting the road in Ontario, Oregon)

And the rolling hills of Idaho would at times remind me of the silky blonde hair of a little child. Okay, really they reminded me of that dog I saw in the Starbucks I stopped at back in WA just before I hit the road. How does a dog get such silken locks? I mean, his hair was actually GLEAMING. I swear that I couldn't look at it directly for fear that the heavenly host would smite me. That dog had hair that movie stars would kill for. Yes, a dog. Had gorgeous hair. The type of gorgeous hair that Paris Hilton would shave her own head for.

*ahem* I digress.

As I drove further and further east it got hotter and hotter. Eventually I was able to see the Rockies from Idaho, and I knew that Utah was within reach. YES!

Utah: the Promised Land! Where good christians come together to bond and unite in their infinite desire to criticize and judge one another. Where blonde-and-tan-granola-girl-with-no-makeup-or-bra actually looks good on a few, but the rest choose to sport the overly-made-up-and-overly-accessorized bouffant look that wouldn't stand a chance outisde of Utah. Or Memphis.

Okay, so maybe I'm pushing it a little on my assessment of the people here. But when it comes down to it I feel like I've got to stay on the defensive because I am nowhere near as gorgeous as the rest of the population. I mean, really. How do they do it?! I swear that beauty is one of the requirements for living in Utah.

Hm. On second thought, I wonder if my subconscious is trying to tell me something?

Anyway, I was enjoying the pleasant 100 degree weather in full-on traffic jam hell about 20 minutes outside of my destination when the cramps began. Yes, cramps. As in, "two days of eating nothing but fast food hamburgers is gonna catch up with you when you least expect it" CRAMPS.

Oh no oh no oh NO!

As traffic creeped along at a jaunty 15 mph, I was writhing in discomfort and sending up silent prayers to anyone who would listen to please keep my butt from exploding. Gaaah!

Thankfully, the gods of spontaneous combustion took pity on me and I was able to make it to my final destination without soiling myself. Although I did manage to launch a few colorful and, in my opinion, quite ingenious profanities the rest of the way there. I'll just have to wait a few days to let the neighbors forget about my desperate flight through their neighborhood before I give them a Howdy-do. It could've been worse. I could've given them a "howdy-doody."

But I'm HERE! I made it. And man, I LOVE this place.

I Luff Me More Than You Luff Me

I recently visited my friend Snotty's blog, wherein she suggested we scoot on over to Urban Dictionary to look up our first names. Apparently this is to help us in our efforts of self-discovery and enlightenment.

By far my favorite definitions of my name are as follows:

Carrie

1. A zombie-loving, ice cream-snarfing girl who happens to be Ryan's favourite. (example given: You're not Jesus--Carrie is!) <---I heart you Ryan, whoever you are.

2. Being sexy and cool. A replacement for the word PERFECT and AMAZING.

3. a sasquash (love the spelling!) that looks like a big foot. they are gross and eat constantly, preferably cheese-its, and are preps.

4. A sensei of many skills, highly entertaining, favorite pass time is to pee on others in foreign countries. (wow, it's amazing how well these people know me!)

I cheerfully read these definitions of myself, and as I did so something amazing happened. It was as though I was being dipped in a vat of warm, fuzzy goodness, coming out just dripping with awesomeness. I laughed so hard I nearly peed myself. Oh wait, I'm supposed to only pee on foreign people. Nevermind.

Battling the Beast.

When I was a kid I used to adore my mother. I believed everything she told me, even when she said that she had an eye on the back of her head. I know it sounds silly now but back then I could’ve sworn she did.

She and I would often go out together, usually to the movies or to the mall to get a treat. “A date,” she’d call it. I loved those dates, and I loved the chance to go out and feel special for a couple of hours. And when she’d go out on a date with one of my other siblings I would be so jealous that I’d throw a tantrum. Well, I remember throwing a tantrum one time. I can only hope I never threw more than one tantrum… ever.

But dreams are for free.



(A day at the beach. Dad's behind the camera. I'm the one in the pink shorts.)

As I grew older I grew resentful. I suppose it was just the typical teenage years that everyone experiences. I was the fourth out of five children, and by the time it was my turn to be the emotional teenager I was blossoming into my mother had had enough. I’m mostly sure it was the fact that she’d had five kids in a six-year-period that drove her crazy. Mostly.

But time passes in that strangely liquid way and the next thing I knew I was an adult, attending an out-of-state university and sucking at it pretty hard. I was desperate for an out. I knew that I wasn’t going to make it that semester—my final semester of university before I got my Bachelor’s Degree. I was already on academic probation and I could sense my academic demise swiftly approaching.


(During a good time while I was in college. My sweet friend John at my side.)


Then, as luck would have it, a break came.

It came in the form of a phone call from my mother. She and I had been pretty distant over the previous six years and I tried to stay as far away from her as possible. I figured that the best way to keep my sanity was to keep my distance from home. But when Mom called on the third day into the new semester to tell me she had breast cancer I knew exactly what I needed to do. And I needed to do it right away.

I immediately made the decision to drop out of school and go home. I had rationalized that it was the right thing for me to do, being the youngest daughter and the only child out of the five NOT to have a family of her own to take care of. I knew that everyone else was far too busy with their own lives to have the opportunity to give the folks the attention they needed. I also knew that I would probably be the only one to volunteer to move back home and take care of our parents while they went through what would possibly be the most difficult time of their lives.

But most of all, I knew that I needed to get myself as far away from the place that I was at as fast as possible. I knew that I was incredibly depressed and was spiraling further and further into misery. It was then that I realized I needed my parents just as much as they needed me.

Not that my dad would admit that he needed help. Of course he’d welcomed me with open arms, but at the same time he would’ve been just as happy had I stayed in college and kept my distance. I suppose he and I are a lot alike in that way; always content in our solitude but also always happy to have company.

I have a clear memory of showing up at their house, Dad swinging the door open wide to welcome me home, and my first loving sentence to him being, “What’s on your nose? Dad, that’s cancer!” He responded by saying, “Is that what it is? I’ve been wondering…” I just rolled my eyes and barged my way in, fending off the tongue bath the dog was trying to give me.

So as it turned out, both of my parents had cancer at the same time. Strange how life plays these little tricks on people.

I spent the next three months living with my parents in the house that I spent my formative years in. I’d gotten settled in and then helped out around the house as much as my mother would allow. She also didn’t like having me take her to the doctor. She always had Dad take her, and secretly I was relieved. I’d already seen enough after she’d come out of surgery the first time.

It was strange realizing that cancer had staked a claim in my very own family. I had gone from blissful ignorance to shocked reality, and from there to self-education and finally to a slight understanding. Of course I could never fully understand the experience of cancer without first experiencing it myself. But I learned a great deal from watching both of my parents fight their own battles with the beast, whether great (Mom’s Breast Cancer) or small (Dad’s Skin Cancer).

I started gaining a new respect for both of my parents, especially for my mother. Yes, she was crazy, and yes she got on my nerves quite often. But I also knew that she was the woman who willingly walked through the valley of the shadow of death to give me life. She was the woman who raised me in the ways of integrity and faith. And as I learned from the three months of living with her as she struggled through her surgeries and treatments, she was much stronger and more brave than I ever thought possible. I couldn’t help but admire that.

It was after two lumpectomies and a full series of chemotherapy that I decided they no longer needed me. Mom was doing well and was about to start with the radiation therapy. And Dad had undergone his Moh's surgery for the small bit of skin cancer he’d had on his nose. It seemed as though they’d gotten a grip on life once again and were walking full-stride ahead.

As for me? Well, things had gotten better for me. I found that life had new meaning to me once I saw that my future held endless potential. And I'd finally regained that sense most young twenty-something-year-olds have that the world was my oyster, and I was eagerly anticipating the next chapter in my crazy life. And so I moved on.




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If you or a loved one are, have, or may be in the process of Navigating Cancer, I applaud you for your courage and strength. May God be with you and yours as you battle to conquer the beast.

Wish I had my camera.

Things I saw today:


• An elderly Asian woman smoking not five feet from her car where it was being pumped full of fuel at the gas station.


(I was just waiting for this to happen)
• Another elderly Asian woman “walking” her two small dogs (both dogs were wearing sweaters) in the spacious Barnes & Noble parking lot. But her walking techniques consisted of jogging in the opposite direction of the dogs and hollering until the dogs caught wind of what was going on and scurried over to run ahead of her. Then the cute little old lady would cut and run in a completely new direction. This went on for the ten minutes I sat in the parking eating my lunch.

• The aftermath where a vehicle had plowed through an intersection, side-swiping a white mini-van. It had apparently proceeded down the road ¼ of a mile where it then plowed through the wood fence surrounding an apartment complex, just barely missing the apartment that was closest to the road, but managing to wrap itself around a small but sturdy tree.

• A display full of Presidential Chia Pets that were on sale (50% off!). I refrained from getting the “Determined Obama,” since my best friend already had that one. I got the Abraham Lincoln one instead. Pictures will surely follow.


("Determined" Obama. The "Happy" Obama chia pet creeps me out.)
Makes me wish I had my camera with me.

Scotland or Bust!

I finally let everyone know that I'm going to Scotland. Tomorrow. I'll be out of the country for a bit, but I ought to have plenty to talk about when I get back. Until then, try not to get into too much trouble. M'kay?

p.s. I'M GOING TO SCOTLAND!! WOO-HOO!!

Hotel Pearl Jam

The other night I had one of those dreams that just won’t end. You know what I mean? Those dreams that really have no story-line but just keep going around and around and around until you almost wish you’d just wake up to stop the monotony.

In this dream I was in a quaint little setting much like that of MTV’s Unplugged set. I was sitting up front in a folding chair and had been pleased (although not excited) that I was about to see another show. It’d been a while.



Oh, I suppose I ought to mention that I’ve always referred to “concerts” as shows.

Anyway, sure enough Pearl Jam comes out and they play “I’m Still Alive.” The dream goes on and so does the song. But it gets to the point where I start getting annoyed and wonder if they’re ever going to play another song. EVER.

Then, as dreams have a habit of doing, I jump into another scene where some other uneventful thing happens… But then the next thing I know I’m back in my seat at the Pearl Jam concert awaiting the arrival of the band, and the whole scenario starts over again.

It was all very “Hotel California” and just too creepy for me, and I was glad when I woke up.

It makes me wonder, though. Is my psyche telling me something? Or maybe I'm just feeling like my life is going around and around in circles? Or maybe it's because Phil mentioned "I'm Still Alive" in his blog? Hm. Yeah, I think I'll just blame it on Phil. ;)

Diggin' on Me.

For the past couple of weeks my manager, S, has been teasing me about it. She's been all, "uh-HUH!" and I've been all "nuh-uh!" in response. (She thought one of the residents here was diggin' on me) But I just wasn't convinced. I mean, people are nice to me all the time. That's usually the response I get when I'm nice to them. You know... what goes around comes around, right?

Hm.

And all this time I just wasn't convinced.

Until yesterday.

Now I believe it is safe to say that it may, in fact, be true.

Oh, and here's the kicker: She's a chick.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Looking for Elvis at the Walmart

As you all know, I have a love/hate relationship with that store. You know, that one store where everyone goes in the hopes that they might find a bargain and maybe catch a glimpse of Elvis while they’re there? Yeah, that one. You knowww…



And I’ve expressed my feelings about shopping there in previous blogs. If you’re not familiar with the blogs I’m referring to then I would highly recommend you click here to read My Excursion to Walmart.

Now, with this in mind, imagine my glee and jubilation when a friend of mine posted the following link on Facebook:



Yes, my friends! Welcome to the world of the Walmart Creatures, found at www.PeopleOfWalmart.com. I kid you not when I say that I spent about an hour going through each and every one of the photos on that website. And I laughed heartily more than a few times.

I can’t describe the feeling I have about this website. It’s almost as if… as if all these years I’ve been telling people that Bigfoot exists and then BAM! A website appears chock full of photos providing evidence that Bigfoot does, in fact, exist. Only with a hillbilly twist.

I finally feel vindicated.

Ah, life is good once again. Oh yeah, and I just got back from my own trip to Walmart. I admit that I didn’t see Elvis there tonight but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.


(I found this AWESOME pic at http://morbidobsession.deviantart.com/.)

Ode to JT

Top three reasons why I love my best friend:

1. She speaks my language. For example, the following is an actual conversation she and I shared via Facebook:


Princess: JESSICA! Did you hear?! Hemme Royad and the Dire Rears are coming to the Moore Theater in time for Thanksgiving. I know you've been itching to see them. I'm trying to talk Clam into going... a group date!

JT: I can't wait! She seems eager.

Princess: You think that maybe we could swing some all-access passes to "behind the scene?" I'd like to see what goes on behind the Dire Rears.

JT: That would be interesting. I heard that The Schmears were opening for them.

Princess: *sniggering*



2. Her house is a reflection of her awesome personality. That’s why I love going there so much! Here is a collection of some random photos I took while at her home over the summer.


(in her front yard)


(kitchen window sill, part 1)


(kitchen window sill, part 2)


(These were born under her kid's bed)

3. Her kids are hilarious.


(JT's husband takes their only daughter on a slide ride at the Puyallup Fair)

I have barrels of laughs with JT and her family.

Now if only I could figure out a way for them to adopt me. :)

A Flock on Legs

I was in line at the checkout at the Dollar Store when I heard the strange loud whistling. It was a sort of high-pitched chirp-whistle thing and I thought maybe someone was playing with their car alarm. But when I walked out of the store with bags in had, I saw this:



Pretty rad, eh? That's a flock of birds on two legs if I ever saw one.

Nifty.

Oh, and for those of you who were wondering, no I'm not dead on the side of the road. And yes, I do intend to continue blogging. It's just that real life has a tendency to catch up with a blogger such as myself and I got a wee bitty overwhelmed. Not surprising when you take into consideration that I've been moving (by myself) into my own apartment, there have been major issues at work, I have sort of started seeing someone, and I'm just plain boring to boot. ;)

Ah but no worries, I've been filing amusing little tid-bits in the back of my mind to pull out for future blogs. But until then, let me know what you think!