Cannibal Mermaids, Among Other Things
It looks like this is shaping up to be more of a monthly journal than a not-quite-daily journal, but it might just depend on the month and the sorts of days that are in it. After my last entry I found myself becoming slightly nervous about the time it would take to put down in words the many things I suddenly had to say when I sat down to write (the more I thought, the more there were), so I sort of backed away from the journal and started cautiously taking notes for future entries, instead of sitting down and attempting to record EVERYTHING all at once off the top of my head (and consequently finding myself writing book-length entries that no-one would ever have the patience to read through).
First, as a reward for those who made it through that lengthy sentence, some photographic evidence of the sort of things that I have learned through my job that the internet holds, and a related picture of me the day I came to work as a mermaid.
Just a kid-friendly game about CANNIBALISM. Of course my brother works in this industry.
Admittedly, I do like fish.
Second, I want to talk about some of the people and events that have made the time since my last entry memorable.
I don’t believe I mentioned it the last time I wrote, but my lovely friend Krishane threw the hobbitiest of hobbit parties in celebration of the fictional birthdays of both Bilbo and Frodo Baggins (September 22, 2890 and 2968 of the Third Age of Middle Earth, respectively, in case you didn’t know and were mysteriously compelled to find out*). There was a root vegetable salad, pears with cheese, and a hearty chicken stew, all made with organically-grown ingredients presumably pilfered from the fields of Farmer Maggot, though I wouldn’t dare to ask him. There was also a cookie-bake in December, for Yule. The amount of cookies made was unheard of. The Claymation movies playing in the background (read: seeping unwholesomely into our subconscious minds) were alarming.
In January, Leora introduced me to Razzi’s (gluten free- and vegan-friendly!) Pizzeria in Greenwood, where I had the organic fettuccine carbonara, and plan to have organic fettuccine carbonara forevermore. “Sauteed bacon, fresh mushrooms, scallions and diced tomato in an organic creamy parmesan sauce,” to quote the menu, and I think that’s all that really needs be said, except to add that the mushrooms and tomatoes really did taste freshly picked. I also sampled Leora’s vegan mocha cheesecake. Don’t ask me how that works, but trust me, it somehow completely does. She and I have discovered that we are having simultaneous urges to save the world, which we are both willing to reduce to hopefully doing some volunteer work, hopefully together and hopefully soon.
Also in January I visited my favorite cemetery with a friend from work, Katie, whose favorite cemetery it also happens to be. Outside of Russia, that is, where she was born and where I’m told the best cemeteries are to be found, with their ancient headstones perpetually shrouded in mist. The Evergreen Cemetery of Everett features rolling hills, large trees, old stones, and a massive pyramidal tomb (30 feet in height). It gives the deceased, as well as those who cannot resist climbing to its peak, a view of the land the Rucker family decided would become the city of Everett in 1888, and also imparts to the cemetery perhaps more than its fair share of otherworldliness.
In the far-off land of Renton things have been going smoothly. Mine and Dominic’s shared tendency to get lost while driving in combination with our obsession with garage sales has led us to go garage- (and estate-) sailing even in the most questionable of weather conditions. As a result, I recently acquired the most comfortable floor-length nightgown I have ever owned, apparently dating from the 1940s (when they were made from lace and satin and wide straps that don’t cut into your shoulders while you sleep, why on earth did that ever become a thing), a pair of sturdy black leather boots, and a tiny, delicate teacup to put tea from the Mad Hat Tea shop into. We have gone back to Tacoma and to Little India Express (I felt bad that I couldn’t remember the name in my last entry! There you go. Seriously, go there, you won’t regret it. Get the Royal Biryani with Lamb, because it is, in actual fact, even better than butter chicken). The owner remembered what each of us ordered the last time and how spicy we each wanted our food.
I have made the time since my last entry memorable for myself by doing something that I think has solidified my identity as an adult of the human species: I made a salad. Not only did it require to me to voluntarily buy sensible, healthy ingredients such as lettuce and cauliflower and olive oil in quantity, it also required me to follow a recipe (my dad’s), and to have and use actual kitchen tools beyond a knife (I used a garlic crusher. To crush garlic. It felt so... Right). And a real bowl*** and wooden salad tongs, and a glass bottle to put the leftover dressing in. What this says about my adulthood up until this point, I’m not sure we should examine too closely. But it was pretty exciting. I also paid for my car tabs (in Ballard, the neighborhood where I was born, no less, while the woman behind the desk coincidentally also used to live in Lake Forest Park and knew all about the evolution of the LFP Town “Centre”), but the experience frankly paled in comparison.
Apart from that, I’ve seen some very enjoyable movies (particularly Interstellar, A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night, and John Wick), some very enjoyable shows (such as The Fall, Agent Carter, Bletchley Circle, Gotham, and Defiance) and expanded my musical knowledge to include First Aid Kit, Break of Reality, The Shins and one particular song by a band called Carbon Leaf. It is called “Follow the Lady.” It’s practically a pop song, sung by wannabe-medieval knights with above-average vocabularies. My inner 12-year-old is officially a fan and has been listening to it on repeat for about a week now.
I’m also learning to manage my newfound state of being satisfied with who I am. This means not letting it make me stagnant. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so at peace with myself, which I recently realized had started to make me afraid to do anything, lest I somehow upset things, which was upsetting things. So I’m running again. Creating routines to keep me stable. Making a point of trying new things to destabilize myself, so I maintain the skill of finding that balance. It is a Good Thing.
Wishing plentiful Good Things to all.
*"Working" has afforded me a downright surprising amount of time for reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy straight through for the first time in my life. I can finally fully appreciate how much the movies got right (Cate Blanchett as Galadriel, I’m looking at you). In my next entry perhaps I’ll take a look at the controversy surrounding the movie’s treatment of Eowyn, once I’ve finished Helm’s Deep. Forth, Eorlingas!
** We may or may not have utilized a Ouija board in said cemetery. We may or may not have had an unsettling conversation with one Mary J. Bodley, 1853-1931 (facilitated by a worm who crept onto the board and made some rather startlingly precise gestures toward certain letters before creeping off again). We may or may not be going back there anytime soon.
***Okay so it wasn’t technically a salad bowl-we’re not quite there yet. But it was a mixing bowl. A big metal mixing bowl specifically for mixing things, as opposed to your average bowl in which you can probably mix things if they don’t splash about too much, and I think that’s something.
First, as a reward for those who made it through that lengthy sentence, some photographic evidence of the sort of things that I have learned through my job that the internet holds, and a related picture of me the day I came to work as a mermaid.
Just a kid-friendly game about CANNIBALISM. Of course my brother works in this industry.
Admittedly, I do like fish.
Second, I want to talk about some of the people and events that have made the time since my last entry memorable.
I don’t believe I mentioned it the last time I wrote, but my lovely friend Krishane threw the hobbitiest of hobbit parties in celebration of the fictional birthdays of both Bilbo and Frodo Baggins (September 22, 2890 and 2968 of the Third Age of Middle Earth, respectively, in case you didn’t know and were mysteriously compelled to find out*). There was a root vegetable salad, pears with cheese, and a hearty chicken stew, all made with organically-grown ingredients presumably pilfered from the fields of Farmer Maggot, though I wouldn’t dare to ask him. There was also a cookie-bake in December, for Yule. The amount of cookies made was unheard of. The Claymation movies playing in the background (read: seeping unwholesomely into our subconscious minds) were alarming.
In January, Leora introduced me to Razzi’s (gluten free- and vegan-friendly!) Pizzeria in Greenwood, where I had the organic fettuccine carbonara, and plan to have organic fettuccine carbonara forevermore. “Sauteed bacon, fresh mushrooms, scallions and diced tomato in an organic creamy parmesan sauce,” to quote the menu, and I think that’s all that really needs be said, except to add that the mushrooms and tomatoes really did taste freshly picked. I also sampled Leora’s vegan mocha cheesecake. Don’t ask me how that works, but trust me, it somehow completely does. She and I have discovered that we are having simultaneous urges to save the world, which we are both willing to reduce to hopefully doing some volunteer work, hopefully together and hopefully soon.
Also in January I visited my favorite cemetery with a friend from work, Katie, whose favorite cemetery it also happens to be. Outside of Russia, that is, where she was born and where I’m told the best cemeteries are to be found, with their ancient headstones perpetually shrouded in mist. The Evergreen Cemetery of Everett features rolling hills, large trees, old stones, and a massive pyramidal tomb (30 feet in height). It gives the deceased, as well as those who cannot resist climbing to its peak, a view of the land the Rucker family decided would become the city of Everett in 1888, and also imparts to the cemetery perhaps more than its fair share of otherworldliness.
In the far-off land of Renton things have been going smoothly. Mine and Dominic’s shared tendency to get lost while driving in combination with our obsession with garage sales has led us to go garage- (and estate-) sailing even in the most questionable of weather conditions. As a result, I recently acquired the most comfortable floor-length nightgown I have ever owned, apparently dating from the 1940s (when they were made from lace and satin and wide straps that don’t cut into your shoulders while you sleep, why on earth did that ever become a thing), a pair of sturdy black leather boots, and a tiny, delicate teacup to put tea from the Mad Hat Tea shop into. We have gone back to Tacoma and to Little India Express (I felt bad that I couldn’t remember the name in my last entry! There you go. Seriously, go there, you won’t regret it. Get the Royal Biryani with Lamb, because it is, in actual fact, even better than butter chicken). The owner remembered what each of us ordered the last time and how spicy we each wanted our food.
I have made the time since my last entry memorable for myself by doing something that I think has solidified my identity as an adult of the human species: I made a salad. Not only did it require to me to voluntarily buy sensible, healthy ingredients such as lettuce and cauliflower and olive oil in quantity, it also required me to follow a recipe (my dad’s), and to have and use actual kitchen tools beyond a knife (I used a garlic crusher. To crush garlic. It felt so... Right). And a real bowl*** and wooden salad tongs, and a glass bottle to put the leftover dressing in. What this says about my adulthood up until this point, I’m not sure we should examine too closely. But it was pretty exciting. I also paid for my car tabs (in Ballard, the neighborhood where I was born, no less, while the woman behind the desk coincidentally also used to live in Lake Forest Park and knew all about the evolution of the LFP Town “Centre”), but the experience frankly paled in comparison.
Apart from that, I’ve seen some very enjoyable movies (particularly Interstellar, A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night, and John Wick), some very enjoyable shows (such as The Fall, Agent Carter, Bletchley Circle, Gotham, and Defiance) and expanded my musical knowledge to include First Aid Kit, Break of Reality, The Shins and one particular song by a band called Carbon Leaf. It is called “Follow the Lady.” It’s practically a pop song, sung by wannabe-medieval knights with above-average vocabularies. My inner 12-year-old is officially a fan and has been listening to it on repeat for about a week now.
I’m also learning to manage my newfound state of being satisfied with who I am. This means not letting it make me stagnant. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so at peace with myself, which I recently realized had started to make me afraid to do anything, lest I somehow upset things, which was upsetting things. So I’m running again. Creating routines to keep me stable. Making a point of trying new things to destabilize myself, so I maintain the skill of finding that balance. It is a Good Thing.
Wishing plentiful Good Things to all.
*"Working" has afforded me a downright surprising amount of time for reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy straight through for the first time in my life. I can finally fully appreciate how much the movies got right (Cate Blanchett as Galadriel, I’m looking at you). In my next entry perhaps I’ll take a look at the controversy surrounding the movie’s treatment of Eowyn, once I’ve finished Helm’s Deep. Forth, Eorlingas!
** We may or may not have utilized a Ouija board in said cemetery. We may or may not have had an unsettling conversation with one Mary J. Bodley, 1853-1931 (facilitated by a worm who crept onto the board and made some rather startlingly precise gestures toward certain letters before creeping off again). We may or may not be going back there anytime soon.
***Okay so it wasn’t technically a salad bowl-we’re not quite there yet. But it was a mixing bowl. A big metal mixing bowl specifically for mixing things, as opposed to your average bowl in which you can probably mix things if they don’t splash about too much, and I think that’s something.