My Filtering Life

I Concur

2012-02-12T21:44:00.000-08:00

I was reading a post on my friend Mike's blog earlier this evening, and all I have to say is this:

I feel exactly the same way.

I am sick to death of the dating game. Why do they even call it that? Aren't games supposed to be FUN? Because if that's the case, I'm obviously playing it wrong. I loathe it. Among all the words I would use to describe dating, fun has yet to fall into play. I don't go into it with that mentality of "lets see how many options/possibilities I can get at once". I want to find THE one. A guy who wants to be with me; not be with me when there isn't anything else to do. I don't want to be the backup plan.

If you had asked me a decade ago where I would be right now, I would have been confident in telling you I would be married with kids at this point in time. You never truly know how your future will play out, that's for sure.

I spent the last couple of relationships getting lied to, shoved to the back of the "importance" line or being fed a constant barrage of broken promises. When is enough enough? How long are you supposed to wade through the crap and drama before that one finally comes along and shows you that bullshit you went through was actually worth it because you ended up with THE one? I'm patient as hell, but this is getting exhausting and I'm beginning to feel jaded on the entire subject.

Oh, and on a somewhat related topic: Online dating. Holy hell are there a lot of freaks out there. You'd think spending as much time studying weirdos as I have in all my criminology classes that nothing would surprise me. Well, ladies and gentlemen, consider me surprised. I had no clue just how many psychos were around until I tried the aforementioned venue. Words simply cannot describe the plethora of headcases that messaged me. It was a cacophony of freaks bombarding my inbox. I won't go into descriptives. Let's just say the need to take a Silkwood shower wasn't entirely out of the realm of thought.

Never. Ever. EVER. Again will I try that one.

And Then Life Throws You A Curveball...

2012-02-07T19:11:00.000-08:00

What can I say? Every time I think things are going smoothly, something cuts in, slaps me in the face, and says "Not so fast!".

This current moment in time has been no exception to that rule.

I am back in Oregon. Not that I don't love Oregon. It's my home, and after all the places I've been in just a few short months this past year, I can say without a doubt; Oregon is my home.

I just wish I hadn't had to come flying back like the CIA was chasing me. I left Austin, Texas Saturday afternoon and arrived back in Bend Monday night. How's that for challenging The Cannonball Run??

Right now all I want to do is find a job, pay some bills, and figure out how to go back to the University of Oregon this coming fall. The valley is where I want to be. Funny how the place I lived the shortest amount of time turns out to be the place I consider "home". I think the fact that I have so much family there may have something to do with it...plus I was born there, so maybe it's in my DNA. Who knows.

I can't really say the exact reasons for bringing me back to Oregon other than it's family and I needed to be back here to deal with things that were trying to be changed behind my back and without my knowing.

Hopefully by next fall I'll be in a position to move back to Springfield. In the meantime I'm trying to spend as much time as I can hanging out with my little brother...he is the only immediate family I have and I think it'll do us both good to be under the same roof again for awhile.

On The Road...AGAIN...

2011-11-08T13:26:00.000-08:00

Well to make a long story not so long, let's just say Connecticut wasn't where I was meant to stay.

Thanks to that fantastic power outage that lasted over a week in some places here, the two classes I was teaching have now been converted into online ones. See, they were condensed into the 8 week session that started last month, and due to the school being closed for two weeks from the blackout, we lost too much time to finish out the courses. So, with that we redid the syllabus and are having the students take a comprehensive online exam over what we DID cover, and added a short paper in lieu of a midterm and final.

Several of us also found out that due to budget issues, we were going to be cut back to part-time next semester as well. That is, unfortunately, not an option for me as it does not pay me enough to live. It also gets rid of my benefits (specifically my insurance).

So I have made the decision to move to Texas. I have the most wonderful friends in the world there. They are waiting on pins and needles for my arrival. The thought of being back home in Denton makes me beyond thrilled. Getting to spend the holidays there will be exactly what I need to erase everything that went wrong all the rest of this past year.

So since I am no longer teaching a "live" class, there is no need for me to continue being in Connecticut. I've been packing for the last few days and will be heading out early in the morning. The only things left to pack up are my computer, a couple of blankets and a comforter, and a few coats hanging in the closet. Everything else is SpaceBagged up and ready to go!

And now I'm calling it an early night since I have an even earlier morning ahead of me. Time to pack up the car and head south!

Exit Stage Left...

2011-09-02T21:04:00.000-07:00

I have felt like I've been in limbo quite a bit these past few months. Plans have been made. Plans have been changed. Promises have been broken (but not by me). Life goes on. So as my Gram would say you have to either "like it or lump it".

I have decided to follow what I feel in my heart is the right thing for me to do. So in just a matter of a few days, I will be heading back to New England; I'm moving to Connecticut.

I have a part time teaching job there that starts October 25th, and one of my best friends in the world, who lives in New York, rang one of her uncles and he offered me his gorgeous 6000 square foot home in South Glastonbury to use as long as need be. He built it to have as a weekend home (he works in Manhattan), but ended up liking one of the water front New Jersey towns better. So this house has been empty for three years.

I have been packing for weeks. It seems to never end. I must say that I adore whoever it was that invented Space Bags. They are a LIFESAVER!!

So this weekend I will be loading my car up with clothes, DVDs, my computer, photo albums, and most importantly, three Yorkies, and heading back east for good. I moved back here not for the vast career opportunities (insert sarcasm here). I moved back because my mom became terminally ill. She was my best friend on earth and I miss her so much it hurts. But at least I got almost 3 good years with her. This past year has been pretty miserable having to stay in this house. I'm sad to leave because I truly do love Oregon, but I'm excited to be starting a new chapter in my life (and be closer in proximity to my friends back in New England).

I need a change and this one, I feel, will be a good one.

The Winds of Change

2011-04-28T11:59:00.000-07:00

It seems every single time I make plans, something derails them.

My plans for moving back to Denton this summer would be no exception.

I will not go into all the details of what happened with J and I regarding our decision to dissolve our relationship. I will just say I cannot spend the rest of my life with someone who is always choosing money over love and family. Money is not the most important thing in life; to me anyway. It just came to the point where I realized we had far different values.

Over the last two weeks several things went wrong that have, ultimately, derailed my return to Texas. First, I learned that once I leave Oregon, if I'm not moving to a RGE state (it stands for Regional Graduate Exchange - giving discounted tuition to residents of Washington, Oregon, Montana, Nevada, Idaho, New Mexico, Arizona, the Dakotas, Utah and a few schools in California. If they are residents of any of those states, they can attend schools in any of the aforementioned state and only pay slightly over in-state tuition), I will lose my in-state tuition status. It also means not qualifying for RGE tuition either, since Texas is not part of the system. Consequently. I would not be able to take classes this next year to finish my masters, instead having to take the year off of school and wait until I was in Texas a year to qualify for in-state tuition there.

None of that is an option. If I were still 20 years old I'd probably go ahead and do it. But quite obviously I am not.

The other blow came a couple of days after learning about my tuition dilemma. I was informed that due to budget constraints, UNT had cut six fellowship grant positions. Mine was one of them. So that meant no job for the upcoming school year. The same day I talked to a few friends back in Texas who informed me of the budget cuts and the fact that several/most of them who are teachers, aren't going to have jobs to go back to after this year comes to an end next month. That was NOT promising news.

And to top it all off, I was called by one of my realtors who informed me that the owners of the house I was buying went into foreclosure. The house was now owned by the bank, making our escrow null and void.

Pretty much anything that could go wrong, did. Now I pride myself on being an extremely adaptable person. Having spent my entire childhood (and quite a bit of my adult life) moving on a fairly constant basis, you get used to change and learn to go with the flow. I'm trying my best to channel that right now lol.

Things I've Learned...

2011-04-06T20:47:00.000-07:00

1 - There is no true lady-like way to eat sushi.
2 - I will never be tall enough to buy jeans without having to hem them.
3 - My hair grows twice as fast as anyone I know. I have to color it at least once a month - every 3 weeks in the summer.
4 - No matter how long I live, I will never understand how my dryer manages to eat socks, but I'm thoroughly convinced it does.
5 - I am NOT a cat person.
6 - I will never be a morning person either.
7 - I would much prefer to live in another time period. Preferably the 1950s. I know I say I am not as keen on technology as most (as I type this out on my digital blog), but I honestly think it just causes person-to-person relationships to suffer. People don't really know each other nowadays.
8 - I am not a fan of big dogs. Not that I dislike them, but the ones I've known are destructive (even if only by accident). I like little cuddle dogs (hence the reason I have Yorkshire Terriers).
9 - Meteorologists are only right 20% of the time.
10 - Velveeta is just downright scary.

Retail

2011-03-26T19:19:00.001-07:00

I'm not really a fan of retail chains. Especially when it comes to clothing. I have noticed in recent years, that the quality of the fabrics as well as the quality of the craftsmanship, is sorely lacking. Not that I find this very surprising. Most of these things are made in third world countries, most likely by school-age children.

I've always been known for having a plethora of clothes. But as of late, my "outfit for every occasion" mentality has switched. For me, it's about quality, not quantity. There are a few key brands that I personally feel are well worth the price.

Juicy Couture - Made in the USA (even if it is from imported fabrics). I have only purchased their velour, but I am quite impressed. I have 3 pair of pants and one zip front hoodie. They retain their shape, don't fade, don't wear out and are extremely comfortable. I have had one pair for over 3 years and wash them constantly. They are still like new. I purchased all of them at the Nordstrom Rack, so I saved about 60%.

Pendleton - Based in Portland, Oregon. They make wonderful wool and wool blend items; shirts, blankets, scarves, etc. I have a blanket that was a wedding present of my parents - so it's even older than I am and in fabulous shape.

Ralph Lauren - I have a couple of his polo shirts, which I have owned for about 6 years. They are, hands down, ten times better quality than the ones carried by The Gap, Old Navy, American Eagle Outfitters. I have purchased the same type of shirt from these stores, and they have all fallen by the wayside. Only the Ralph Lauren ones still fit like new. Well worth the extra money. Plus, I bought them at an outlet mall, so they really didn't cost me any more than the ones I got from The Gap.

When it comes to things like tees, I don't expect them to last too terribly long. So for things like that, I just look for what is on sale and doesn't look like it was sewn crooked ;)

Perfect Meatloaf

2011-03-24T13:19:00.000-07:00

I have always loved to cook. Ever since I was little, I could always be found helping my mom and grandmother in the kitchen. I'm always experimenting with recipe variations, and after a LOT of trial and error, I have finally come up with a great (if I do say so myself) meatloaf recipe. And here it is:

1 pounds lean ground beef (I use 12%)
2 large eggs
4 slices sandwich bread
2/3 cup buttermilk
1/2 tsp salt
1/3 tsp pepper
1/2 tsp onion powder
1/2 tsp minced garlic
1/2 tsp Spice Island's Summer Savory
1/2 tsp Herbs De Provence
1 envelope Good Season's Zesty Italian salad dressing mix
1/3 cup pureed onion (or diced very small if you do not have a food processor)
1 cup Basil & Tomato spaghetti sauce (or your favorite tomato/spaghetti sauce)

Preheat oven to 375. Spray bottom of a square 8x8 glass baking dish with nonstick cooking spray (or you can use shortening or brush it with a little vegetable oil).

Break up the bread into a few pieces and toss into food processor. Pulse for a few seconds until fairly fine crumbs. You can also crumble it with your hands if you don't have a food processor. If you use the hand method, let the bread sit out for an hour or two so that it's not too soft.

Put all ingredients in a medium size bowl and mix well. I put on latex gloves and use my hand to make sure there are no clumps of bread and that everything is blended well.

Transfer mixture into baking dish and top with spaghetti sauce. I prefer it to regular tomato sauce simply because it gives it more flavor depth.

Cover with foil and bake for 45 minutes. Let stand 5 minutes, slice and serve!

It is officially SPRING!

2011-03-22T00:51:00.000-07:00

Although you wouldn't know it by the weather. We've had everything from sunshine to hail to snow over the past three days. It is absolutely insane. I need spring weather to hurry up and arrive before I go completely mental.

And while I still haven't gotten into Bend to drop off my sewing machine just yet, I have started going through some fabric boxes. It's amazing the things you come across in your own garage sometimes.

For instance, I have about 6 yards of slate gray baby corduroy. I have no idea where on Earth it came from. I know I certainly didn't buy it, which means it is some of the fabric I kept that was my Gram's. I spent quite awhile wracking my brain trying to figure out what to do with that much corduroy. Then it dawned on me: GROCERY BAGS!

I had been complaining for quite some time now that the reusable bags I purchased at our local Fred Meyer (for those of you in the south, that would be the equivalent of a Super Kroger; grocery store meets sporting goods store meets garden center meets kitchen store meets furniture store meets Dillard's/Kohl's) did not hold up. The first few I bought were fine. The second batch I got have all but disintegrated. Not to mention they're not washable - I know I tried and the one I did a "test wash" on came out in shreds.

So I'm going to make gray cord bags. I have some of the leather Columbia used on their airplane seats left over from the roll my dad got for his racecar seat, so that will make an excellent bottom for the bags. And at least these will be WASHABLE! We technically have two "front" porches. One at the front door and one at the kitchen slider. Neither of which are covered, which makes it a mess when it's rainy and I'm carrying groceries in. Normally I like to put all the grocery bags just outside the door at the top of the porch. That way I can put them inside all at once (I have little dogs that like to run out the door so multiple trips in and out is not the best idea). Setting the bags down on a wet, sometimes dirty porch, makes quite a mess when they're not able to withstand a round in the washing machine.

I also think I'm going to make them different colors. I have some purple, navy and cocoa brown RIT dye I think I'm going to use on them.

Now I just need to get my sewing machine fixed...

Spring/Summer Dress Projects

2011-03-18T01:02:00.000-07:00

My sewing machine is still down for the count. I had planned on taking it into the shop for repair, but my neighbor told me her boyfriend (who is a friend of my dad's) would look at it since he used to restore antique sewing machines. So I held off since the town I live in charges a fortune for everything and just to have the repair shop look at my sewing machine will cost me $100. Almost a month later it's still sitting in the corner looking sad and neglected. She has told me the same thing four times about not taking it in to the repair shop and her boyfriend will check it for me, but I've run out of time for him to get around to it. I appreciate the offer, but I can't wait any longer. I need to get it fixed. I'm way behind on sewing projects for friends and family, not to mention the dresses I have found that I want to make for me when the warmer weather finally arrives.

A few I saw in Old Navy, but there are a few problems with buying them off the rack. For one, they run $20-30 for about $6 worth of fabric. I have a huge issue with that. Not to mention the quality of their items has drastically gone downhill in the last few years. The other issue I have is that the bust is cut way too small for me, so I end up having to layer a tank top or a tee underneath. While I don't want to bare all in a skimpy summer frock, I also don't want to have to wear a shirt under it - it defeats the purpose of trying to stay cool by wearing a lightweight dress.

So, here are the dresses I'm thinking of making. I need to go through my stash, but I'm pretty sure I have
patterns close enough to these styles to make them work out:

Since I do not do strapless numbers, I'll be adding some wide straps to the last dress above, but I like the overall style of it.

So, I'll be dropping my sewing machine off sometime next week to get fixed (it's bird nesting and I think it somehow got knocked out of alignment, although it worked fine the last time I used it so who knows). I'm going into sewing withdrawal. It's my stress reliever from school, and I haven't gotten to use it in months.

I hate dishes

2011-03-08T14:21:00.001-08:00

With a passion. They multiply like Gremlins as soon as you turn your back. And I think that's one of the negative aspects of having a big kitchen.

Let me explain.

I love, love, LOVE my kitchen. It has massive amounts of counter space and storage galore. It also has a fairly big non-walk-in pantry, that I do admit has some wasted space as it's shelves could be deeper than they currently are. My cabinets are all over-sized, so all in all I'd say I have the equivalent of 28 standard size kitchen cabinets, 3 built in drawers (that are the size to fit pots and pans), and 10 regular sized drawers. I even have two ovens. It's fabulous, and if I could shrink it down and take it with me back to Texas when I move believe me, I would!

Except that every drawer and cabinet I have is full of pots, pans and other sundry kitchen items. I do not lack for anything (except a KitchenAid mixer but that's another rant in itself). And I think that's the problem; I have no shortage of cookware, so there is never an immediate need for that pot I just used or that frying pan that got tossed into the oven the previous evening because I was too tired (lazy) to clean it.

The more people in the house, the better I'm able to stay on top of it because I do that much more cooking. I know I'm going to need that dutch oven I just used again tomorrow as well as the frying pan I just sauteed green beans in, so they will get washed after I use them. Now that there are only two of us in the house, I don't do a lot of the in-depth cooking I used to do, and especially now that I'm the only one doing it since I don't have my mom to cook with anymore. So when I do cook very rarely do I use more than one or two pans. Then Drew will grab another one to make himself an omelet. I'll use another to fix pasta. And it just continues on that way until one morning you walk into the kitchen and can't find either sink, and only 10% of the counter is visible.

The other problem is having a dish set that's service for 16. Yes, you heard me correctly. It takes us forever and a day to run out of clean dishes, which is probably another reason why it's so easy for them to accumulate in the sink. And yes, I have a dishwasher. It even works. I think it's time to start implementing new behaviors. I cannot take the mess anymore.

The Train To Crazy's Shabby Apple Giveaway!!!

2011-02-27T19:30:00.000-08:00

Now, I've always been a fan of vintage looks. I have a plethora of patterns (Vogue originals from the mid 40s through the 70s thanks to my Gram), and even some vintage pieces of my mom's.

Any of you out there who adore the look need to check out Shabby Apple . Their dresses are to die for.

What's even better? Well, The Train To Crazy is giving away one of their dresses!

This has to be one of the coolest giveaways ever. This is the dress going to one lucky person! It's adorable.

Simply go here for the details!

Free Giveaway Mondays...

2011-02-20T19:57:00.001-08:00

I have seen several very talented and crafty individuals implement this idea on their websites, and I thought it would be fun to try.

For those of you who do not know, I make custom jewelry. I stick mainly to Swarovski crystal and pearl beadwork and do bracelets, necklaces and on rare occasions, earrings (they are not my favorite to work with).

I thought I would start giving away random items. Sometimes it might be a bracelet and other times possibly a small "jewelry kit" that includes beads, clasps, etc. Basically everything you would need to create your own masterpiece.

I will start on the 28th. All you need to do is follow me (thatgilmoregirl) on Twitter and leave a comment and I will pick someone at random to be the lucky winner :)

Some examples of my work:

Stay tuned...

Dear Winter, GO AWAY!!!

2011-02-20T12:31:00.000-08:00

It's not like I'm used to the cold and snow. I have been living in ski country off and on for 7 years. While I will be the first to admit I love being in a place that actually has all fours seasons, winter seems to surpass the other three in regard to how much time out of the year it monopolizes.

Granted, we lucked out this year and winter didn't arrive until much later in the fall. But it is lingering on, despite what that wishy-washy groundhog said about not seeing his shadow. It's the end of February and I just checked the forecast: snow for at least the next week with highs in the 20s and low in the teens. Not cool nature. Not cool at all. For several reasons.

For one thing, our furnace decided it had lived long enough and keeled over on us. We had a spare one (what, you don't keep spare furnaces and hot water heaters just laying about the place? What's wrong with you?), but the spare one came out of the little single wide mobile home that was on this lot when we bought it. It wasn't meant to heat the nearly 2500 square feet of living space we have in this house. So if we run it, we get semi lukewarm air blowing out of the vents, and our power meter spins around like Clark Griswold's did when he plugged in those 25,000 imported Italian twinkle lights in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Last year when we were having lows in the negative 20 degree range we ran it and our electric bill was triple what the one was for that same month the year before.

So you can understand my reservations for turning it on.

We do, however, have two wood stoves. But there is yet another problem. The big one that SHOULD be the one we have in the living room is the one my dad used to heat the shop (can you see where the priorities lie?). The one in our living room is the size you would put in a 700 square foot cabin. It is inefficient to say the least. If muscle, agility, ladders and climbing up on a snow covered roof weren't required, I'd be out there swapping them out with one another. But since I possess none of those attributes aside from knowing where the ladder is, that's not going to happen.

The other problem: all of our wood is wet. It snowed on us before we had a chance to get the wood cut down to the right sizes (our little wood stove won't hold pieces much longer than 14 inches and a lot of what we have is about a foot and a half long), so trying to get short enough pieces that aren't soaked to the core is next to impossible. Especially since it snowed, warmed up just enough to slightly melt, and turned half of the snow to ice causing the pieces of wood to glue themselves together in a great big mound.

D and I have pretty much been camped out in our bedrooms for the last two days because I have an electric blanket that gets hot enough you could probably pop popcorn on it, and we both have space heaters, so our rooms could get up to 80 degrees if we wanted. He has one of those awesome Heat Dish heaters (I love Costco even if they did jack up the price on them by $11) and I have a portable oil filled electric one. I actually took it out of my room and into the living room this morning for a few hours to see how well it would do in a room that size (it's about 26x30 or so). It was a wasted effort, but I thought I would try anyway.

luckily I found enough little dry pieces of wood (and some red oak slats that were about 1/4" by 10ft that I broke into kindling. We had a pile of it in the wood shed that's been in there at least 2 years...possibly 3. I figured if we hadn't done anything with it by now we never would. Let me tell you, it made an excellent fire starter! Then D split the 4 pieces of super dry wood that I had in the house next to the wood stove that I thought might have fit (apparently my plumb eye doesn't have 20/20 vision or I simply lack depth perception). So at least we have enough wood to heat the house to an almost normal temp.

Tomorrow I will be out with the chainsaw hacking up some of the half dozen felled logs that have been holding the dirt down since we moved it. I hate to have to pay to have another cord of wood delivered and then have spring decide to show up (which btw I have been praying for all month. I am sick of winter). Plus, it's one way of clearing out all the debris laying about the place. I am no longer a fan of clutter...even if my bedroom would tell you otherwise.

Changes, New (Old) Interests & Things To Come...

2011-02-17T15:32:00.000-08:00

I know I have been neglecting my blog. It's hard to use the excuse that "life" gets in the way, when that is exactly what it is you're supposed to be blogging about.

Enough with the lame "I was too busy" excuses. Time for a change. And time for some changes.

I have decided to get back into sewing. It was something I learned to do before I even started school. My Gram was insanely talented and could quite literally make anything - even without a pattern. After seeing some of the adorable things has on her site, it has given me a renewed interest in something I have always enjoyed doing.

First things first: I need a new sewing machine. My Gram only ever owned two sewing machines during my life. Both were Singer brand. The first one she had at least ten years before I was born, which would make it circa 1970. The second one she purchased in 1990, but not because the first one died. It was stuck in storage in another state and was not accessible, and she wanted to make me a dress I had been wanting to wear in my 5th grade talent show (I played Memory from Cats on the piano).

That second sewing machine is the one I have had up until now. The first Singer apparently didn't make it all the way with us during one of our previous moved. That made me sad. This second one has now run its course. I sat down at it last summer to hem a pair of pants...or a skirt...my memory isn't running at full steam today. Sorry. When I sat down and tried to run a line of test stitches, I noticed that it was doing a rather spastic thing; the top stitches were fine, but the bottom ones looked like one giant cluster*#$! It was a jumbled mess.

So my mom's friend Susan, who has become an expert seamstress over the years (and who does all of her sewing on a Pfaff (I am not swimming in that much money) looked at it but wasn't able to fix it either. So off to the Singer repair shop we go...

And that's where we came to a screeching hault.

One of the other problems with having a top of the line 21 year old sewing machine is that they stop making replacement parts. So for the cost to fix it, I can buy a new sewing machine. Which is what I am going to do.

As soon as I figure out which one to get.

And once I do, the first thing I'm going to do is shorten the legs of the 4 pair of jeans I have that are a foot too long. That's what happens when you stop growing at 5'2.

Chronic Afflictions & The Land Of Nod

2011-02-17T15:29:00.000-08:00

I know it's been awhile since I've talked to some of you out there, so I figured this would be the easiest way to bring you all up to speed on what's happening in my corner of the world.

Most of you (although I know not all of you) knew that I've had what I call the "mystery chronic cough of the millennium" for what seems forever. Pretty close. It started when I was a senior in high school (1996 for those of you who are allergic to math). It has never gone away. I have to wake up an hour before anyone would normally have to get up and get ready, because if I don't give myself that time to just sit still (i.e. I try to fly out of bed at the last minute) I will end up having a coughing attack that is to the point of causing me to cough so hard I throw up. Pretty, isn't it? I have a coughing spell after eating or drinking almost anything (wine is an exception to that). Those attacks don't last as long as the ones brought on by the cold weather or those lovely morning ones, but they are bad enough.

I have seen so many doctors over the past decade I stopped counting. Not one of them could ever come to an agreement let alone a diagnosis as to what it was causing me to cough continuously. The only solution any of them ever came up with was to prescribe me medications to suppress the cough (Codeine, Ultram). While they worked, being in an opiate induced haze forever is not my idea of a solution.

Enter Dr. Parker. He is awesome.

He is actually the father of one of my best friends. She had mentioned something about my cough to him, along with the fact that no one could figure out what it was, so he promptly reviewed all of my records, scans, tests, etc. and, along with several colleagues, he was able to determine what it was exactly that I had.

Laryngeal Sensory Neuropathy.

Basically, the sensory nerve to the voice box that triggers the cough reflex was injured (usually by a virus, and I do remember being extremely sick that winter). Consequently, the nerve became hyper-sensitive and caused the thyroarytenoid muscle to spasm, which in turn, caused me to cough. Most of the time, this type of injury to the nerve fixes itself. In my case it did not, which is why I've been coughing like I escaped from the Tuberculosis ward for the last 15 years.

So what they're going to do to remedy the situation: Botox.

Yes, that fabulous find now serves a USEFUL purpose. It will be injected it into the muscles that have gone haywire to stop the coughing. I start out with one round of injections every 3 months for about 18 months. Then they will wait 4-5 months to see how it's doing and as long as the coughing has subsided, I'll then only have to have "maintenance" injections once every 6 months.

Even better yet: There is a doctor in Portland who also knows how to perfrom this procedure...and driving from Springfield up to PDX is nothing, especially when it only has to be once every few months!

My (Cousin's) Big Fat Redneck Wedding...

2010-12-14T12:35:00.000-08:00

The setting: Beautiful Willamette Valley in Oregon. The McKenzie River. A lovely tree lined horse pasture complete with folding chairs and manure piles.

As one wedding guest said “It’s just so romantical”.

We drove down the dirt road to the location where this blessed event is taking place. After carefully driving my NON 4x4 vehicle through a miniature ditch and into the field that was assigned as "parking lot", I stepped out and took a look around. It didn't take more than a few seconds of surveying the scene to realize one thing: I was in Redneck Hell.

Four wheel drive Tonka trucks with lift kits and 36" Super Swampers as far as the eye could see covered the "parking lot". Nine out of ten had a gun rack mounted to the rear window of the truck cab. Eight out of those nine had guns in said racks. Then I noticed the drivers (and passengers). It was something akin to a hoard of monster truck show escapees, which scared me more than the vehicles themselves.

Piling ever so gracefully out of their respective trucks, and hiking up their jeans with their over-sized belt buckles I can only assume were trophies won for rodeo riding or pig wrestling of some kind, the denim-clad wedding guests began to congregate on the dirt road we came in on that also lead to the wedding locale. Call me Amish, but I found it slightly disturbing that these people had only left their vehicles seconds earlier, yet they stood there beer-in-hand. I assume the ones with Pepsi cans were using them as spit cups.

I had the overwhelming urge to leap back into my car and head back home before anyone I knew recognized me. Unfortunately my cousin Ashley and her parents already knew I was there and spotted me as I stood by my car ever so thankful I was wearing dark sunglasses so that no one would see the look of appall/confusion/horror/dread/disdain on my face. Ashley agreed and followed suit with her Jackie-O-esque shades.

You know when I heard we were supposed to dress "casual" and heard more than one person mention jeans to me I thought they were joking. I see now that they were definitely not. The only women wearing skirts were dressed like they were doing their best Minnie Pearl impersonation. As much as I dry heaved at the idea of wearing jeans to a wedding, I figured if I wore designer ones (I love you Paige Premium Denim) the fashion gods wouldn't smite me for wearing denim.

We walked as slow as humanly possible without looking like Tim Conaway's "Old Man" character from The Carol Burnett Show. I was not looking forward to the next few hours. We dawdled as long as we could before we were forced into the guest book signing line. Once again I was forced to note just how many people in line had open beverage containers in their hands. Anheuser-Busch would have been proud. I would have counted up a running tally of missing teeth amongst the group, but I didn't want to get that close to any of them. As we got closer to the guest book that was so nicely displayed on a folding card table, I strongly debated signing a random name in lieu of my own. God knows I didn't want any physical proof that I had attended this atrocity. It was bad enough that I had to dodge the random amateur photog there. Alas, I forced myself to suck it up and signed my name to the book.

And then the REAL fun started.

We walked through the electric-fence lined horse pasture (they like to call it the "orchard" but no, it's a field) and walked over towards the pond (read: mosquito infested watering hole) where the ceremony was taking place. I'm sure if the CIA had hidden surveillance cameras on us they would have wondered why everyone appeared to be staggering their way to the metal folding chairs. Well granted the two rounds of alcoholic beverages everyone downed while waiting in the guest book line could have contributed, but in actuality it was the fact that we all had to veer around the horse manure piles in the "orchard" on our way to the seating area. Apparently a clear walkway wasn't high on the list of priorities. Which would explain this next part.

The handful of normal people (because let’s face it, next to this clan I was the picture perfect image of mental health) that had thrown caution to the wind and attended were all standing as FAR away from center stage as we could get. Unfortunately that gave us a very clear view of the bridal party's entrance. The groom had been standing by the "pond" for quite some time, along with what I assume was some sort of pastor, and beside them the redneck DJ whose equipment was mounted in the back of yet another jacked up 4x4 Ford truck. And queue the music!

The groomsmen and bridesmaids came in from the side field where we all parked to a lovely rendition of a cross between some god awful Tim McGraw song and Jay-Z’s butchered remix of Alphaville’s “Forever Young”. But they weren't walking. They were riding in the back of a pickup. And what spells class better than riding the rails of an F-350 in a rented tux (complete with camouflage vest and tie) and avocado green David's Bridal bridesmaid dresses? I'll tell you. Being the bride and arriving in one of these with your mother (who is dressed like Morticia Adams):

I managed to block out the vast majority of the wedding ceremony itself. There was a 100 foot long row of saggy Wranglers standing in front of me, so my vantage point was limited. I did, unfortunately, hear the officiator mention not once, but twice both "hunting" and "horses". If Dr. Doolittle himself had walked out at that point I would not have been the least bit surprised.

I wished I were about a foot taller at this point so that hurdling the four foot fence standing in between me and my freedom wouldn't have been so impossible.

And now we segue to the reception. Because my misery couldn't just end with the ceremony. No, now it's time for the hoedown.

We once again made our way around the now not-so-steaming piles in the "orchard" and made our way to the adjoining field where we all stood in a row looking like the redneck version of the poor masses standing in the goods lines of Mother Russia. Except for one difference; these people were standing in line holding the metal folding chairs they had been sitting on for the ceremony. As everyone got up to switch locations they simply took their seat with them. It was like being at an NFL tailgate BBQ.

BBQ. That brings me to the dinner portion of the night's festivities. It was a combination Paula Deen's hillbilly brother meets the Barefoot Contessa. They roasted an entire pig, and a steer, and paired it with the only thing I ate, which was a cranberry spinach salad. It’s not that I have an aversion to pork or beef, far from it. But when I saw the work involved in trying to cut said meat with a plastic knife and spork, I decided it probably wasn’t worth the effort.
I can't tell you how many people were tossing cranberries onto the ground (read: dance floor) as if they were some random foreign objects that mistakenly floated into their salad. By this time it was too dark for me to get away with wearing sunglasses any longer, so I put them on top of my head and tried my hardest to refrain from any obvious eye rolling and went in search of a beverage.

Which I found.

In an ice filled horse trough.

I saw two dozen empty beer cases, and about as many pop 12-packs. Apparently wine was a no-no at hick weddings *note to self*. I was told by the groomsman with the fish net in his hand that the “good beer” (read: Miller High Life) sank to the bottom. I thanked him and proceeded to the table with the few normal relatives that were still at this festive event.
When I sat down and informed our table that there was not one ounce of wine (let alone hard liquor) anywhere on the premises, that was the last straw. One of my other cousins grabbed her keys and we drove up the road about half a mile or so to her house and grabbed two bottles of wine…along with some plastic pool-side-use wine glasses. We didn’t want to stand out in the crowd after all. We begrudgingly drove back to the wedding, our moods slightly improved having each downed a glass before returning to the reception.

We made it back “just in time” for the bride and groom’s rehearsed and choreographed dance.

Now I’m sure if I had watched it I either would have been HIGHLY entertained…or I would have needed years of therapy. I was fortunate enough to be in the very back row of tables and several farmhand/linebacker built cowboys politely blocked any view I might have had from my seat. God knows I wasn’t going to stand up and INTENTINALLY look. And I’m extremely glad I wasn’t able to see the spastic gyrations going on on the dance floor, because their dance routine involved some of my favorite songs. Had I seen what they were doing would have ruined that music for me forever.

After walking past the wedding cake station (read: crooked tower of sponge cake cupcakes) and seeing the scary shade of green frosting covering everything, I voted against trying any. I’m brave, but not that brave. By this point of the evening, the town had rolled up the sidewalks and closed up shop for the night. Apparently so had the wedding guests. Apparently they all had 8:00pm curfews as well. Luckily for me, I had a two and a half hour drive home to blame my early exit on. I made my way down the unlit dirt road by the light of my cell phone as quickly as I could without falling into the ditch (it wasn’t a very level road) and got into my car. Now normally I wouldn’t feel the need to vacate so fast, but you see folks there is one remaining detail I forgot to mention to you. The lack of facilities. No, there was no sign telling you where the restrooms were. There was simply a bright blue port-a-potty planted smack dab beside my cousin’s taxidermy truck…which also happened to be the truck holding all of the wedding presents.

I’m sorry, but if it meant my bladder internally combusting or using that port-a-potty I would choose combustion. But after a few glasses of wine, that deadline was fast approaching. About 5 minutes later I was at my other cousin’s house and very relieved to be in a place with indoor facilities. I spent the entire drive back to Bend trying to block out the last 4 hours of my life. If I never see another redneck wedding again it will be too soon.

Life Goes On...

2010-07-15T15:57:00.000-07:00

Whether you like it or not, time marches on with our without you. If you choose to let it pass you by, I guarantee at some point down the line, you're going to regret that choice, and unless you know where to find a time traveling DeLorean, you won't be able to change that decision.

I am still in pain over the loss of my mom. She was my best friend. I still cry myself to sleep on numerous occasions knowing that when I wake up in the morning, she will still be gone.

Someone once asked me about my screen name (thatgilmoregirl). Well my best friend Becca actually started it. She was spending Thanksgiving weekend one year with us (one of the many times during our 20s when she was not speaking to her dad lol). We were all in the kitchen talking nonstop, my mom and I were probably on our third pot of coffee for the day, and we were busy throwing around pop culture references left and right.

I noticed Becca hasn't said anything in awhile and I asked her what was up. She just laughed and said "you two are exactly like the mother and daughter on that Gilmore Girls show". And it stuck ever since then. And she was right. We shared everything (mostly). Rarely does a day go by that I don't regret leaving for North Carolina, and missing out on a year with my mom before she got sick. I know being here might not have necessarily done any good or changed the outcome of what has happened, but at least I would have had that much more time with her. But then I guess dwelling doesn't do me any good. I can't change what's already said and done. But it still hurts.

I had the belief that if I moved away this year, it would make things easier. Well, as much as I hate to admit being wrong about ANYTHING (just ask Drew, I'm only wrong once a year and I've already exceeded that quota), I am fully aware that my belief in that was wrong. I thought staying in her house would be too painful. But after spending some time away from everyone and everything, coming back here still feels like home, even if she's not here. The memory of her is all around me. And although I do have moments where it all feels far too real for me to take, I know abandoning her house and relocating isn't right for me either. Not when the place I'd be moving to would only be for one school year. I still need more time here. Time to heal. Time to readjust to a life without my mom. Packing up and moving to a place where none of my real friends are (and lets face it, to a place with FAR too many Republican Rednecks than I care to surround myself) is not the right decision.

I need some time alone, in a familiar place where I'm not stressed. I know I won't stay here forever, but I need time to take it all in and let the reality of what has happened sink in. I've been so busy taking care of everyone and everything else that I haven't taken any time to focus on myself.

So after a couple of very stressful weeks, I have decided to do the following:

The University of Colorado Denver has accepted me into their Criminology Program. They're allowing me to do my independent study work here, and take the remaining requirements I need online (I am going the comprehensive exam route instead of the thesis route), which means I can spend the next entire school year in my mom's house and watch after it (my dad, whose first priority has always been himself, and has made that fact blatantly clear in the past month, is taking off for California and Arizona as soon as fall hits, so it will just be me and Sophie here. He'll probably be back sometime in the Spring).

My mom always wanted us to follow our dreams. She wanted nothing more from her children but for us to do what makes us happy, no matter what it was. As long as what we did brought us joy, it made no difference to her what it was, how much it paid or what it involved (as long as it was legal of course ;). And I am to the point where I know my career goals have changed. So much of my adult life has been spent focusing and dealing with negative things. Whether it's crime scene investigations or teaching the aspects of Criminology, there are very few positive things that occur in said occupations. Don't get me wrong, I love the whole process of teaching, but dealing with crime after crime, murder after murder, focusing on all of the negative aspects of the world around you, you can only take so much of it (at least I can't) before you have to say "Okay, I have had enough". I'm just not cut out to spend the rest of my life profiling serial killers. Plain and simple.

So for this, and many other reasons, after I finish up in May, I still love to teach, and not to sound inflated but I think I'm pretty darn good at it.

A completely new focus is in order. I feel the need for reinvention, because I have really felt like I've been going through the motions the past few years, but not really been an active participant. Ever feel that way? I know I cannot do what I want to do here. There is nothing left for me. My mom was my family - the one I was closest to and shared the most with, and she is gone, so there is no one holding me here. The ridiculous lack of job prospects is also a contributing factor in my decision.

Last weekend, for the first time since my mom passed away, I sat down to my piano to play. I hadn't gone near it in the past two months. Just looking at it, I still pictured my mom sitting at it, playing to perfection with no effort, and that was heartbreaking; to know that would never happen again.

But music was the first thing she taught me. It's always been my first love. It was because of her that I decided to audition...and audition...and audition for the local production of Grease (and finally landed the role of Jan). It renewed my spirit in it. Realizing that what truly makes me happy is singing. Not so much the dancing part, but definitely the singing aspect lol. You never know what your dreams might bring you if you are too afraid to try. That was the one thing my mom was never able to conquer - her immense stage fright. I think if she hadn't had that, she would have been the next Linda Rondstat. She could sing any Patsy Cline song better than the original herself. Ever since I was a kid, I can remember putting on musical numbers with Aranya for our family...she was much better at doing the dance choreography than I could ever attempt, but I can safely say that being too shy to sing in front over everyone was not something my mom passed down. I jumped at the opportunity to take the stage.

I do not know what these next few chapters will bring. I may very well fail. But to never try would be a far worse fate than to put myself out there and be rejected. I have already had too many "what if's" in my life. So now I'm saying "enough is enough". You need to experience life, not just exist in it.

For Mom, I Will Forever Miss You

2010-07-01T07:53:00.000-07:00

I know it has been forever and a day since I have posted anything on here. I find when I am stressed, my brain tends to go on overload and finding the words to form even one cohesive thought simply never come.

It's been nearly two months since I lost my best friend. My mom. She fought an uphill battle for three years against a cancer that responded to absolutely no treatments. But two months after her 60th birthday, that brave battle came to an end, and three days before mother's day, my mom passed away to a better place where she is no longer in pain. A place where she will always be as beautiful as every memory I have of her is.

Selfless to a fault, she always put the needs of everyone else first, no matter the situation or consequence, and never asked for anything in return. Her sweet and loving disposition, she had ability to make everyone who met her feel at ease without even trying.

She had a smile that could light up a room, a voice that would make Patsy Cline and Linda Rondstat both bow their heads in awe, and a grace that no one could duplicate.

For these past two months it has been all I could to do function through my daily activities. Most of the time I have felt like I was just on auto-pilot. Going through the motions without actually experiencing them. What makes it hard is being in her house. Her memory is in everything I see. The other day I went into her closet to get a box of photos to scan for one of my cousins, and seeing her clothes hanging there untouched was beyond overwhelming. The next thing I knew I was sitting on the floor (of her walk in closet) sobbing.

I try not to dwell. I try to think of the fact that she is in a much better place. That she is with my Gramm (her mother). But it still does little to fill the void in my heart. She was the one I turned to when I needed anything, and she was always there for me. I know it sounds selfish, but knowing she will not be there to see me get married, see a grandchild, makes me feel that the entire situation is just plain unfair.

But I know she would tell me that I need to live my life. She only ever wanted her children to be happy. To do in life the things that brought them joy, not do what made them the most money, brought them material possessions while living an empty existence. For this I have decided to take stock in my own life and reevaluate the path I have been going down. And what I have found is that what I thought I wanted in life really wasn't what I want. What good is stressing yourself out and wearing yourself thin to the breaking point when in the end, you find yourself saying "I wish I had done things differently"? The answer is, no good.

So I have decided to do something my mom and I talked/daydreamed about off and on for the past few years. I am moving to Europe.

I will fill you in on those details later. At the current moment in time I am running on VERY little sleep and am not quite sure how much sense I would make if I were to keep typing at this point.

Irresponsible Journalism

2009-05-31T20:24:00.000-07:00

As previous COCC Criminal Justice President, and currently holding the vice president position of ALPHA PHI SIGMA (National Criminal Justice Honor Society), I pride myself on being a conscientious and objective individual. I am perfectly willing to see two sides to an argument before making a rash decision as to which argument I am going to side with. I personally do not believe an impartial and unprejudiced view can be taken WITHOUT hearing both sides.
Apparently Bjorn Peterson doesn’t think the same way. If he did, why did he fail to inform the Criminal Justice Department of the article he decided to write – let alone allow any of us to make a statement regarding our stance on the matter. It seems to me that he is one of those individuals who is only willing to voice his own opinions, however misinformed they are, and completely disregard any other possible viewpoints on the subject.
Impartial? Unbiased? Objective? These are what come to my mind when I think about the definition of what good journalism is. None of these, however, materialize in my mind’s eye in regard to the article this is in response to.
The Criminal Justice Department has always made it a point to help the Red Cross with their local blood drive efforts. Since they are the only supplier for St. Charles, it’s an effort that hits close to home. We hold two blood drives on our campus, usually one in the fall and one in spring. This year was no exception. We held the blood drive last month. The only difference is that this time around, we were slandered for doing so. Funny, I didn’t know helping save lives fell under the category of miscreant.
We arrived to class only to be taken aback by an article in this month’s issue of the Broadside, in which Mr. Peterson, the soon-to-be editor of said paper, accused the Criminal Justice students of quote “supporting and promoting an openly discriminatory government policy”.
I take personal offense to the statement made of the Criminal Justice Department that we are discriminating against gay males. Forgive us, and the Red Cross, for daring to be law abiding entities.
Would the author suggest that the American Red Cross, and in turn the Criminal Justice students, show blatant disregard for federal law, ignore the guidelines set forth by the FDA and “hope” that it all doesn’t end up causing the demise of what has been nothing but an upstanding, life-saving organization for decades?
I wonder how the author would feel if the Red Cross were shut down, rendering St. Charles helpless to save the lives of countless individuals because their only supplier of blood in the entire region ceased to exist, and the life of one of his loved ones was lost because of it. Something tells me he would be singing a very different tune.
If this is a preview as to the type of journalism we can expect to look forward to, with said writer now being the new editor, then my opinion of the Broadside just flew out the window.

My True Passion

2009-02-08T00:43:00.001-08:00

Download Courtney - Never Know

2009-02-04T16:29:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been forever and a day (and probably then some) before I set up a blog. I figured it was time to get back in gear on that front, and many others.

This is probably the shortest posting I've ever written...but better than nothing. I promise a more substantial entry later.

Right now I have to bolt out the door like my hair was on fire...I'm running late as per usual LOL.