Census Meme
A little late to the party on this one, but I like it.
1981: It's a little fuzzy because I was pretty young, but I think this was during my dad's first tour at the Pentagon and we were in that little house in Springfield, VA, just behind Lee High School. Our house backed onto the athletic fields and I have this very clear memory of it being a windy March and flying kites on the soccer field. I also clearly remember when Mt. St. Helen's blew, though, which was this same time-frame so I may not be remembering where we were then entirely correctly.
1991: Qtrs. I Robalo Dr., Bangor NSB in Washington State. This place was one of the ugliest duplexes you can imagine, with beige linoleum floors, 20+ years of coat after coat of the same white paint and a slab concrete patio out back. It also had a multi-million dollar view of the Olympics -- or would if it wasn't owned by the U.S. Navy. This is the house that inspired one of my favorite lines from my long-unfinished (but potentially awesome) original fiction project: All the streets in Officer Housing are named after lost submarines*. Cate lives on a corner where a reactor meltdown and all hands lost meets a torpedo strike and five prisoners of war.
2001: A series of hotel rooms in places like L.A., NYC and Chicago -- or, alternately, my parents' spare bedroom in Fairfax, VA. Everyone has a gypsy phase and this was mine. I was kind of aimless. I drank too much, ate too little, exercised too much and generally wasn't very nice to myself back then, but I like to think I learned a lot and got that wanderlust (mostly) out of my system.
2011: A 110(ish)-year-old farmhouse on the edge of Portland, OR, which I share with my husband and a neurotic-but-sweet German Shepherd mix named Tucker. We have every intention of remodeling the house but have made almost zero progress to date. I'm curious to see, in ten years or so, what memories I have of this place. :)
* Which isn't technically true, but it makes for a hell of a chapter opening.
1981: It's a little fuzzy because I was pretty young, but I think this was during my dad's first tour at the Pentagon and we were in that little house in Springfield, VA, just behind Lee High School. Our house backed onto the athletic fields and I have this very clear memory of it being a windy March and flying kites on the soccer field. I also clearly remember when Mt. St. Helen's blew, though, which was this same time-frame so I may not be remembering where we were then entirely correctly.
1991: Qtrs. I Robalo Dr., Bangor NSB in Washington State. This place was one of the ugliest duplexes you can imagine, with beige linoleum floors, 20+ years of coat after coat of the same white paint and a slab concrete patio out back. It also had a multi-million dollar view of the Olympics -- or would if it wasn't owned by the U.S. Navy. This is the house that inspired one of my favorite lines from my long-unfinished (but potentially awesome) original fiction project: All the streets in Officer Housing are named after lost submarines*. Cate lives on a corner where a reactor meltdown and all hands lost meets a torpedo strike and five prisoners of war.
2001: A series of hotel rooms in places like L.A., NYC and Chicago -- or, alternately, my parents' spare bedroom in Fairfax, VA. Everyone has a gypsy phase and this was mine. I was kind of aimless. I drank too much, ate too little, exercised too much and generally wasn't very nice to myself back then, but I like to think I learned a lot and got that wanderlust (mostly) out of my system.
2011: A 110(ish)-year-old farmhouse on the edge of Portland, OR, which I share with my husband and a neurotic-but-sweet German Shepherd mix named Tucker. We have every intention of remodeling the house but have made almost zero progress to date. I'm curious to see, in ten years or so, what memories I have of this place. :)
* Which isn't technically true, but it makes for a hell of a chapter opening.