I feel almost guilty about blogging my birthday. It was so amazingly perfect that I feel like a braggart sharing it. So let me preface this entry by noting that the weeks preceding my special day were filled with me brattily insisting that I wanted to be surprised. When pushed for more specifics, I would declare that I wanted to ride horses on my birthday. Or maybe take a spin in a hot air balloon. So if you read this entry and think, “man! How can I make my friends completely spoil me on my birthday?” The answer is: aim high. And be a brat.
My awesome day began at work. In the past I have taken my birthday off, but there was no way I was going to miss celebrating my 26th year with first graders. If anyone takes birthdays seriously, it’s little kids. I got more hugs and magic marker smudged cards than should be allowed by law. Those kids effing LOVE me! And then at the end of the day I did a birthday jump. See, there is a tradition at my school that all first graders must welcome their special day by jumping off a desk while everyone watches. As far as I know, I am the first adult in the history of this tradition to take a jump. But see, I am a very childish adult, so it makes sense! The kids asked me questions about what I was like when I was in first grade. I told them that I liked to draw horses and pretend that I was a horse. There followed a shrieking chorus of “ME TOO!!!!” from the little ladies. Then they sang me the special song:
It makes me think of the good old days,
Happy birthday to you.
You sure grew out of your baby ways,
Happy birthday to you.
26 years old, we wish you many more!
Health and wealth and friends by the score!
Cut the cake and let’s eat some more,
Happy birthday to you.
Then they counted by fives to 25, added one, and I jumped.

But the fun didn’t end there. That evening Mike blindfolded me and drove me to Linnton for a pre-festivities beer. Let me tell you, the Lamplighter Inn is my new favorite bar. I don’t care if it takes 20 minutes to get there! Then we picked up Rebecca and Steve, and I was blindfolded for another long drive. (I was the tiniest bit car-sick by this point.) We ended up in what felt like a cavernous room filled with creepy organ music. The blindfold was removed and:

That’s right. I wanted to ride horses, and horses I rode. We got there just in time for the last run of the evening. I picked a white horse with a flowery saddle. It was very pretty. The carousel moved faster than we remembered from our childhoods.
The evening cumulated in a wonderful meal at the very fancy restaurant, Clark Lewis. We did the thing where the chef picks your food and it was goo-ood. Ordinary food is sort of ruined for us now. In between courses the friends gave me presents. I got books, a tee shirt, a Albina Press gift card, and a beautiful necklace. The funny joke was that all of the gifts were presented in ipod boxes. So I kept thinking I was getting an ipod. Like, four times they did this. They thought it was very, very funny to trick me into thinking I was going to get an ipod, and then dashing my hopes. But I didn’t feel too dashed because all of the gifts they gave me were so nice, and they had planned such a nice birthday for me, so I sort of felt like the joke was on them. But then when we dropped Steve off at his house he asked us to come in for a minute, and then he “found” one more gift. And it was an ipod. Nano.
OMG.
Right?
Such nice friends I have. Such nice, tricky, surprising friends. And the fun didn’t end there. There was an excellent “surprise” karaoke party at the Alibi a few nights later (which a couple of big mouth friends spoiled for me. It’s okay though!). Then on Sunday Steve and Mike had planned on taking me on an actual horse ride, but after much searching, they couldn’t find a place that was open in the off-season. So there will be more birthday celebrations for me in a few months when the trails dry off. Whew! I also got lots of nice cards and emails and phone calls, most of which I forgot to return. Sorry. It was a really busy weekend! Thank you, thank you dear friends and boyfriend. It’s good to be 26.

Hell yeah!
God bless the Merrill Brothers Three for carrying the heaviest of boxes in the epic Urban Honking server move. It was a dangerous endeavor that apparently involved Brazilian hackers, but they weathered it well and UrHo is up and running again! And not a minute too soon, I say. Every day that my blog was down something happened that I just NEEDED to blog about, but it was to no avail. I just had to wait it out. Liz offered to let me do guest posts on her blog, which was super nice, but it might have been weird to talk about first graders’ gluey fingers in a fancy NYC blog. I did dust off my cohort blog for some sweet relief, but really, there’s no place like home. Ah… My bright turquoise cyber home. How I have missed your glow!
I will now give a recap of my week “off the grid” or whatever:
* Most notable event that went unblogged: I wore two different shoes to work. Do not adjust your monitors, you read correctly. My mom sent me two pairs of Saucony sneakers for my birthday- one pair navy, one pair lavender. In my rush to get dressed I ended up with one of each on my feet, and I realized much to late to go home and change. I thought my students would lynch me for it. The other teachers thought it was pretty funny. But when morning meeting rolled around and Conner pointed out my mismatched shoes, the response was pretty mild. I told them what happened, and that I was pretty embarrassed. They assured me that I looked really cool, and not to worry. When I said, “wow, friends, I really thought you were going to tease me about this!” they replied that it was not a big deal at all. They wore their shirts inside out sometimes, it was totally mellow. Then when another teacher walked in the room and started laughing at me, they turned on her. “Stop laughing, Kim! Willow looks AWESOME!! She should wear her shoes like that every day!! You’re mean!” And that is why my ego is so big.
Okay, to tell you the truth, that wasn’t the most exciting part of my offline time. My birthday was last week, and between my sweet students and my awesomest of awesome friends, I was treated like an absolute queen. I would be shortchanging the experience to cram it on the bottom of a long post, so instead I will blog about it tomorrow, with photos and everything. A teaser: my birthday involved a lot of fake-outs.
It’s good to be back on the internet.

Last weekend a few of us went to dinner at Veggie Chinese, and then to Ground Kontrol, this late night video game place. I must admit, I was snobby at first. I thought “late night video game place? NERDY!!” I guess I forgot for a moment that I in fact AM a giant nerd, and thus had a lot of fun. I played Super Mario Bros 1 while sitting at the bar drinking MGD, and it was AWESOME! I beat everyone who played me, and I overheard the bartender telling Jessica that I was really good, and had a “smooth style.” Oh yeah. Let me add “Mario 1” to the list of things that I am good at:
1. Mario 1
2. Hula hooping
3. Putting my foot in my mouth (figuratively)
4. Driving
5. Doing the “shimmy”
6. Picking out shoes for myself and others (ask Steve and Mike to testify)
7. Being a bridesmaid
8. Making toasts (arguably)
9. Roller skating
10. Whistling
I’m having trouble thinking of other things. But ten talents ain’t so bad, I guess.
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I’m babysitting the twins tonight, but they’ve been asleep since I got home, so I’ve been doing weird things to pass the time. Like, um, cleaning my room. And, uh, waxing my mustache. My barely perceptible mustache. The mustache that every person I know has either claimed not to see, or insisted was “totally mellow.” The thing about lady mustaches is, once you even suspect that you have one and it’s noticeable, you stop believing your friends. You think they are being nice by swearing to be honest and scrutinizing your upper lip and proclaiming it to be mustache-free. They are just trying to protect you. Secretly they’ve been praying that you notice it and get rid of it! That’s why they had that mustache growing competition and invited you to all their mustache parties! It’s like that SNL skit when Rachel Dresch has a ‘stache and is clueless as to why she’s been invited to be a guest on the “stachin’ it” talk show, or whatever. So eventually you buy a home waxing kit and have at it.
I was feeling really optimistic when I got out of the shower and started reading the directions. It seemed easy enough. No heating the wax up, just apply cold and voila! No more hair. I thought that I would start with my upper lip, and then maybe hit my underarms and bikini area. I’ve been waxed before. It’s mellow. Of course in the past professional ladies did the waxing, and they are not clumsy. I am very clumsy. And also not good at beauty stuff. To make a long story short, my lip hurts, it’s sort of red, and though it’s tough to call it yet, I’m pretty sure my ‘stache is still there. I did not get to my underarms. I did not get to my bikini area. I shoved the entire home wax kit in the back of a drawer and shuddered. Apparently I will not be adding “waxing” to the list of things that I am good at any time soon.

Okay, this is going to be mildly confusing for a minute, so bear with me. You may remember that Mikey and I made a bet on Thanksgiving resulting in my winning four “dates.” I agreed to blog about them to give him good PR before he goes public. I wrote about the first two dates in December, and then HRS ARK ROYAL became my boyfriend, so continuing to go on fake dates seemed sort of awkward. (You all know that HRS ARK ROYAL and mikey m. are the same person, right? That information should make this entry less confusing. Or maybe it won’t. I’m not sure.) But I am bound by contractual agreement to blog about two more dates, so I’m going to cram them both into this one entry and then wash my hands of this whole mess. Phew! In the interest of continuity, I will refer to my date as Mike Merrill here, but will return to pseudonym usage in future posts. Okay. Here we go.
One week ago, Mike and I went on a very traditional “dinner and a movie” date. Mike planned it and kept the restaurant a surprise, which just made me melt. The number one thing I love? Surprises. Amendment: Pleasant Surprises. Mikey bet me dinner that I would not have heard of the restaurant, and he lost the bet. Taqueria Nueva is not a well kept secret- quite the contrary! It is a beloved NE restaurant- great for dinner before a movie at the Laurelhurst. I was surprised Mike would make such a futile bet, but he later admitted he just wanted an excuse to buy me dinner. Isn’t that nice?
I had mousse for dessert, Mikey had tequila:

Then we went to the movies. We saw “Goodnight and Good Luck.” It was really, really good. George Clooney, I swoon for thee. We shared a kiddie meal.

After that we went to a fancy place for cocktails, then back to Mike’s for snuggles, etc. I will venture to say that this was a perfect date.
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A few nights later, we had our fourth and final date. We made dinner together at Mike’s, followed by a much hyped viewing of the classic romance, “40 Year Old Virgin.” Dinner was wonderful, movie was decent, date was cool. This is what we ate:

I think the moral of the story is this:
Fake dates always turn into real dates, eventually.
Remember that, young lovers.

Today I brought in a recording of Dr King’s “I Have a Dream” speech- well, the last five minutes of it anyway. I just wanted to have it on hand in case the other teachers needed it, but I ended up teaching a 40 minute lesson twice, to both 1st grade classes. It went really well. First we met in a circle and shared what we knew about Dr. King- who he was, when he lived, why he is famous. We’ve been reading books about him, so this was just sort of review (and much needed, as one boy declared that Dr. King had ended slavery!) Then we talked about his famous speech- we looked at a photo of the event and marveled at all of the people in attendance. I told them about how he put down his notes and spoke from his heart, and how even now, many years later, his words continue to touch our hearts. Finally, I had them spread out around the room and lie down and close their eyes. I played them the excerpt, and both groups were enraptured for the full 5 minutes (a long time for 6 year olds!) They were silent and still, and afterwards they all agreed they’d gotten goose-bumps. We met again in our circle and talked about the pictures that grew in our minds as we listened- what we imagined. Then I gave them nice paper and they drew those images. It was like the classroom was bewitched. The kids worked really hard on their illustrations, and I felt so proud of them.

…you know me and how high I can be.”
Well, I guess it was inevitable that I would eventually crash after the sort of feverish excitement that permeated the month surrounding the New Year. There was so much to be excited about- killer Colorado trip with toasts and Flobots and Buntports and snowball fights in Silver Plume. And then back in Portland there were fake parties and very resolved resolutions and crushes realized and reciprocated. I was feeling pumped, pumped, pumped on 2006 and all the promise it held. And I still am, truly. But even the purplest balloon heads back to earth with either a pop or a sigh, and now I am that balloon. And I sort of popped.
“You don’t know yourself til you’re low.”
The litany of everyday grievances that I blithely ignored in my elation have become impatient for my attention, seeking it with a shove and a stomp. The usual woes- dismal finances; dearly wanting but being unable to afford a little apartment of my own; feeling let down by/left out of friendships; recognizing the long, unbroken stretch of school and work laid out in front of me; rain; rain; rain. It’s not so bad, I know. I have one million blessings stitched together like a second skin around me, and I feel lucky, lucky. But also sad, today.
I have a frustrating combination of acute intuition and extreme sensitivity to other people’s impressions of me, which often leaves me feeling punched in the gut. It’s hard to know when I’m being perceptive and when I’m being paranoid, but the result is hurt feelings that cannot always be justified or explained. As I’ve grown up, I’ve grown out of a lot of my emo-ness. But this particular trait is dogged and mean, and I can’t really seem to shake it. It makes me mad at myself for succumbing, and for needing more than my fair share of reassurance from my friends and family. Why can’t I let this stuff go? Why, when I hear about or sense bad vibes, do I let them in so deep? Why can’t I just let them go by, like that Leonard Cohen song, “If I, if I have been unkind, I hope that you can just let it go by” ? I got overwhelmed by it in the college library today and started crying, and I ichatted to my friend that I felt like an undergrad! I do not want to be emotionally 18!! Blegh.
My plan is to hunker down until this darkness passes. I’ve taken two naps in two days, and tonight I will go to the movies by myself and eat popcorn. Then later maybe some snuggles and magazine reading in bed, and hopefully I’ll be back in ship-shape soon. HRS ARK ROYAL has exhibited a fine combination of teasing and gentleness in the face of my funk, and for that I am thankful. I feel guilty that this side of me is revealing itself so early in our relationship, but what can I do? I’m sort of a messy person.
Sorry this is not as exciting a topic as public urination, though I truly appreciate the flood of responses to that post! HRS ARK ROYAL and I have come to a tentative agreement that public urination is gross, but sometimes necessary. A compromise.

Well, HRS ARK ROYAL and I had our first fight on Saturday night. It’s funny, because Saturday morning we idly wondered what our first fight would be about, and then THAT VERY EVENING we found out. Spooky, right? It turns out that when HRS ARK ROYAL is 2 hours late picking me up without checking in, we have a fight. Huh. The awkward part is that when he finally did collect me (in all of my justified haughtiness), our friends Freddy and Josh were in the car also, which meant that they then witnessed our fight. Yikes! Luckily HRS ARK ROYAL charmed me out of my fury relatively quickly, and a festive atmosphere returned. (Lots of whispered “I’m sorry’s” and little kisses helped a lot.)
But then, the very next night, we had ANOTHER fight!! And it was AGAIN witnessed by Freddy and Josh! This time I was in the dog house, and HRS ARK ROYAL wasn’t as much mad as disgusted. See, it came out that when living in New York, I would (very very) occasionally, uh, pee on the street. Like after a party and a long subway ride! Very justifiable, I think. Very gross, according to the SEA PRINCE, even though he admitted to peeing on the side of the road in Alaska. Apparently there is a difference between publicly urinating in New York City and po-dunk Alaska. Whatever. He asked me if I didn’t think it was gross to see a dude peeing downtown late at night. And while I agree that it is gross to see a DUDE peeing, it’s FUNNY to see a LADY peeing!
I think we had to call that second fight a draw. But I’d love some input here. Late-night public peeing when you are far from your apartment and there is no bathroom in sight- gross or justified? Come on. I know you’ve done it too.

I’ve already blogged my driving resolution to death (and once my driving log template is complete I will add it to my sidebar and it can be blogged into the afterlife) but I also made a few other environmental resolutions this year.
* I’m not allowed to use paper cups anymore. If I don’t have an insulated mug with me, I have to either drink my beverage at the coffee shop or go without. Tough titties.
* Ditto for canvas bags when I go shopping. If I don’t have one with me I have to carry my groceries in my arms or put them in my purse. This is only when I am shopping by myself. I won’t impose my weird rule on my friends. (On a side-note, my favorite Kyoto-oriented law in Ireland was the plastic bag tax. If you needed a bag at ANY store in Ireland, you had to bring your own or pay a 5 cent tax. So simple, and yet EVERYONE used canvas bags, or their purses or hands. I got such a kick out of seeing big tough dudes walking down the street carrying a carton of milk and some grapes.)
* Stop using paper towels in public bathrooms. I am actually shaky on the sterility of this choice, and I’d love to be educated. But I feel like the shake vigorously/wipe hands on pants approach is sufficient and doesn’t waste paper. Is this gross? Please let me know. This has, strangely, been the hardest resolution to keep so far.
* Cook at home more. Okay, this isn’t exactly an environmental goal as much as a financial one, but it does have a relationship. When I cook myself I use mostly local, organic produce. Most restaurants don’t. So eating in has a positive environmental impact. And if I eat out less, I can afford to go to nicer places that DO use local, organic stuff.
That’s pretty much it. 2006 is the year for weird/silly environmental goals for me, I guess. I know I’d be making a much bigger impact if I stopped driving altogether, composted regularly, had a vegetable garden, did more activist work, gave more money to sweet non-profits, etc, etc, etc. Maybe that will happen in 2007. Baby steps, you know?

In addition to not being ready to be married, I am also not ready to have babies. I love the children. I am a teacher and I live happily with twin almost-four year old boys. I adore every baby I see, and I have a Seymour Glass-esque obsession with their little feet. But goddamn. I’m glad I don’t have any of my own! It is HARD being a parent! You have to get up early, even on weekends, and you have to eat meals at normal times. If you have a hangover, you still have to be a parent anyway. If you have a toddler or a baby you have to put those obnoxious plastic things on every fucking drawer below waist level. And you find cheerios EVERYWHERE! You have very little time to read the New Yorker, and you always have to have quiet sex.
I just don’t want that kind of responsibility right now! I don’t even want to babysit anymore! A very nice, very wealthy family at my school asked me to come to their daughter’s birthday party, and offered to pay me, but I had to say no. Because babysitting sucks! I love my little dudes here at my house, and I try to spend a lot of time with them. But when their parents ask me to watch them for a couple of hours I get a little panicy. I’m not scared at all. I’ve been babysitting since I was twelve years old. I just don’t want to do it! And I LOVE these boys! They are like my own nephews! They call me Aunt Gorgeous! They fall asleep in my bed when I read them stories! But I don’t want to be in charge of them. It’s weird. I used to babysit them a couple of times a week, but now it’s only once or twice a month. I feel really guilty and baffled by my own resistance. I can only attribute it to my stalled biological clock.
I think teaching may be the best form of birth control. You can love and advise and joke your students to death, and then you get to give them back. No making dinner, no bedtime battles. You can head straight to the bar or your friend’s house. And if you smell like spit-up, it’s almost definitely your own.

On Sunday HRS ARK ROYAL and I went to brunch at Besaw. We walked there, and it was pretty rainy and blowy, and I was dressed pretty grungy anyway, thanks to Adam Forkner and the awesome bright pink shirt he gave me the day before, so by the time we arrived I was sort of a mess. HRS ARK ROYAL is a fancy-pants, so he looked real nice, of course. I think we already made a sort of funny looking couple. We sat at the counter, side by side, and ordered our breakfast. As you know, HRS ARK ROYAL is participating in a dietary challenge, wherein he eats exclusively dainty, pretty foods. Thus he ordered toast, a boiled egg, and a small yogurt. I myself ordered a big ol’ plate of pancakes. And coffee. And a mimosa. When the waiter brought out our food, he understandably hesitated before placing the meals in front of their respective devourers. Like he needed to take a few seconds to think the words, “what the fuck?” I think gender stereotypes were effectively blasted when I picked up the check afterwards. Dainty, fancy man; grungy, lumberjack lady. MFEO. Or pretty funny, anyway.
Dinner with Darcy and her friend last night was really nice. We went to Typhoon, which is so delicious, and just got caught up on all our business. Darcy is married, and her friend Amanda is engaged. It seems like all of my friends are headed down that path these days. I know I’ve written about this many times, but it is still so strange to me that my life is really different from theirs in this one specific way. I still feel like I am 15 when it comes to dating! A 15 year old is too young to get married and buy a house! I guess I don’t actually feel that immature, just sort of not ready to be a real grown up. Whatever that means.
Oh, hey, here is the link to my transportation blog entry I wrote. A real live city councilman commented on it! Maybe I’m an adult after all!
HRS ARK ROYAL is in San Fransisco right now. This is what I have to say to that fair city:
STOP STEALING MY FUCKING BOYFRIENDS, YOU FOGGY ASSHOLE!!
That is all.