Shadow people go

The move to Portland approaches. It's crept into our lives in the form of boxes stacked high in our living room and our refrigerator becoming bare. We already feel like we're there since it's been raining nonstop here in Boise - but I'm more than ready to leave Idaho behind and start our new chapter. Though it feels like I'm backtracking since I lived in Portland for several years before moving to Idaho.

We're not laying down permanent stakes in Portland; the move is temporary. We're housesitting for family and building a nest egg for the Next Big Step. Seve is still applying all over the country now that he's graduated and finished his student teaching. An opportunity in North Carolina just closed, but I think we're fine with that. I personally hope we end up in one of the opportunities in Memphis, or Baltimore. I'm ready for something completely new for our little family. And it will be nice to give Simon a sense of permanence, since I moved all the time as kid, being a military brat and all. But, then again, that shaped me to enjoy a good move - from South Korea to Nevada and then some. I want him to feel comfortable in some globe-trotting shoes, too (so perhaps we'll do Harlem, heh heh).

Goat Guys

Francesca Lia Block's Witch Baby was my favorite installment of the Dangerous Angels series. That purple-eyed, snarly black-haired child crawled right into my heart in middle school and hasn't ever bothered leaving.  These shoes are my homage to her band, the Goat Guys. You see, just like in Pinocchio when all the boys started to turn into asses once they started boozin' n smokin' n' poolin', the Goat Guys started to turn into goats once their band took off and their egos started to soar - a transformation that began with some goatly band gear: furry pants, antlers, and hooved shoes. Once these items were removed, they were able to see what they had become and change their ways.

Not that my goal is to turn into a goat. And these shoes aren't terribly hoof-like; just enough so that I love wearing them everyday. Though, Seve thinks they're ugly. I try to explain to him that that's kind of the point. Also, they put me at or near eye level with my friends, which is always a plus.

Cold Day Hot Pho

Simon in 6 Seconds

Sans Josephine

So, everybody: I finally got a new camera! It feels so good to finally accomplish what I want in photography. Or at least come close to it. I'm having a lot of fun learning and tinkering around. And I've named her Annie, of course.

I "earned" Annie by trading in old hobbies for new ones, i.e. selling my guitars for this Nikon and lens. While it was hard to let my favorite guitar go (Josephine, as detailed in the previous post) I didn't want to develop the bad habit of hanging on to expensive hobbies by way of storing them in the closet solely for sentimental reasons, knowing full well I wouldn't return to them. I worry my longboards will reach this status someday, only the upcoming summer will tell.

Oh, and we're moving to Portland. (!!!)

Josephine, a love letter

Dear Sweet Josephine,

I remember the last time I held you in my arms, the last time I played you. Though your new strings felt wonderful, it was a sad reminder that I was, in fact, selling you - thus the reason for the new strings at all. Because it had been 3 years since I last gave you any serious attention, 3 years since I attempted the tricky art of strumming and singing at the same time, 3 years since I'd bothered to learn the chords to a Sleater-Kinney or Led Zeppelin song. I knew that our relationship had turned into a cold, cruel one where I lugged you from one closet to another, leaving you dark and unloved in your velvet-lined case.

We have a lot of history together, you and I. From ex-boyfriends to college degrees, you were there for so much. But we both knew that you longed to be played, long to be loved. That brief semester with my brother-in-law gave you the taste you needed of the stage, of blood on your pickups and a song in your heart. Your beautiful, cherry wood heart. You told me you had had enough - you finally knew what you were missing out on, and it was something I could never give to you. I obliged when you finally asked to be let go.

Besides, I wanted a new camera.

May your new owner snap those new strings, wear down your polish, and, of course, get blood on your pickups.

I'll always love you,
Jules

Good morning to you

Believe me when I say I have a lot I've been wanting to blog about, and comments I've been meaning to leave on your blogs. But by the end of the day, this is how we feel. Like the one in the back, not the alert-at-4AM one in the front.

The Dark Year

2011 was a strange year, filled with hardships and joy alike. It was the Year of Pregnant, which was terrible, but also the Year of Simon, which was wonderful. It was the Year of Graduation (Seve), the Year of New Ad Agency (me) and the Year of Finally Leaving Rexburg (both wonderful and terrible). It was also a year of much personal tragedy for my family, which I've never quite brought myself to blog about.

So far, I don't like 2012. It's brought me an egged car, strangers reaching into my purse, and what looks to be a bad ending for Ben on his Bachelor "journey." Also, someone ripped open the packages left on our doorstep during our Christmas holiday in Portland and we're still trying to figure out just what they stole, if anything (guess they weren't keen on my father-in-law's gift of honey jars).

But it's only been 3 days, perhaps things will perk up soon.