Hidden Faces

Who will you be today, darling?

We are all comprised of a hundred different people, right? 
Fine, okay. You may be scoffing, thinking (or saying out loud, if you're a little bit crazy...but hey, the crazy are welcome here!) "Psh. I'm me. That's it. If people don't like it, tough shit!" But I would still argue that you're at least slightly different with family, friends (maybe even multiple friend groups), significant other, coworkers, boss, church people (if you go), etc, etc, etc. Still don't agree? Well okay. You win.

Two of my most successful masks are strength and confidence. Every once in a while, though, they become frail and threadbare and the tiny, insignificant, unsure me pokes through. I really hate those once in a whiles. 

A great example is from my autoimmune diagnosis. I remember my mom telling me so many times how proud she was that I was taking things so well and staying strong. But I never, even a little bit, felt strong. I did it because I had to. What I remember is being so angry and frustrated, feeling like my body was failing and betraying me, trying so hard to hang on to a shred of my dignity and independence. I remember feeling like a laughingstock trying to be normal, and crying every night because that's when I could break down. Only after that do I remember the immense support I had, I think partly because I wouldn't, or couldn't, really let anyone be there for me. It's a wonderful and terrible thing that I will take on anyone's burden and help as much as I can, but it's very, very hard for me to actually let someone help take mine. To be fair, a good part (probably most) of that is my fault. 

So, today. 

I told y'all, glossed over a bit maybe, that I got a job. I'll be working at the docks with tourism stuff, but they also asked about me doing a bit of driving. This required DOT compliance so I had to go through a lot of steps. Drug test, tons of paperwork, tedious, ridiculously boring training videos made in the 80s, and a physical. And, have I mentioned that I worry about EVERYTHING? 
We finished training today and the last bit I had to do was the physical. So, even though I was tired and almost reached my limit of people (it's low), I figured I'd just get it over with. 

Of course it starts out with lots of paperwork that already makes you feel a little like you're undressing. Is that weird? I just thought of it. Having to reveal medical stuff, personal stuff, to people you're meeting for the first time makes me feel kind of naked. 
The nurse that came in was really friendly and made me very comfortable. Of course you have to go through blood pressure, pulse, sight, hearing,   ...and probably some other stuff that I don't remember. If you're me, it's stressful! 
One thing about faking courage is that I feel like I'm being judged every single second. About anything and everything. ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. And let me tell you, it is not fun. (I shouldn't have to tell you that. It should be obvious. Get your head in the game!)
So even these little tests, that I have absolutely, biologically, no question, couldn't change if my life depended on it, no control over, I felt very self conscious about. 
Oh. Let's get all psychological and go back to guessing it's because I already felt "naked." Go away, Freud. Nobody wants you here!

Okey dokey. The last thing I had to do was a urine test and then I thought I was in the clear. Buuut the nurse said the doctor would be in. Blerg. 
The doctor came in and went through the paperwork and asked about the medications I was taking. Then he got a little quiet. Silent. He went through some more stuff and did respiratory/ear/reflex testing. Back to the computer. 

Did you guys go through narcolepsy with me? Let's summarize. 
I was being treated for depression and it didn't seem to be working. My doctor thought I needed counseling (which I'd tried and hadn't really worked) and that was really the only time I challenged her. I got frustrated and said that I was just tired all the time, which led to a sleep study, which led to the narcolepsy diagnosis. It was a blessing.

Oooh. I'm sorry. That was a horrible transition. I mean...there wasn't a transition. Buuut, here we are now. Back to the DOT physical. 

The doctor told me he was looking up narcolepsy with the regulations. It didn't sound spectacular. It wasn't. 
After many, many excruciatingly long minutes of staring at the floor and walls, he told me he couldn't sign off. Narcolepsy was an automatic disqualifier. He told me if I could find any other information or regulation that gave additional information he was open to it, but what he was seeing was pretty cut and dry. 

Did I say I felt naked? Take that and rip the skin off. It was embarrassing. My body was failing me again.  
Leaving the office, the only thing I wanted was to curl up with Soldier. I feel so safe and comfortable and loved when he wraps his arms around me. But, I figured it was best to treat the situation like a band-aid and head back to work. 

Narcolepsy, a lot of the time, is something people laugh at. They imagine someone standing, talking, acting completely normal and out of nowhere keeling over and falling asleep. Of course it sounds funny. It sounds like a black and white slapstick comedy. 

In reality, I was having to go back and tell someone higher up than me, at a brand new job, who I'd had 10 minutes worth of conversation with, about a medical condition that people laugh at. Buh-bye Super-Laura mask. 
Thankfully, he was really cool and professional about it and it didn't turn out nearly as devastating as I'd expected. 

I was exhausted and raw and needed to kind of wallow in our little happy place before I relived my shame with Soldier. But our happy place was kind of a mess. And the happy place was no longer calming. Yeah, I know I'm a *bit* anal, and Soldier doesn't worry as much about keeping things neat and tidy. I'm really trying to relax about it, but some of it is completely beyond me. 
Anyway, when he got home, he asked what happened with my day. I started telling him, and then he was wandering around the apartment doing...well I don't know. And he said he was listening but then there was water running and he was in another room and..meh. He came back and was acting like normal and then the covers were over his head and then he was asleep. And still "napping," 4 hours later.
Okay, in his defense, well, really there are two points. 
1. I didn't tell him that I actually needed him. Back to autoimmune, I remember going to the surgeon the 2nd time and him telling me things were doable, and (frustrated) me saying that I couldn't walk. The surgeon was surprised; I'd assumed he noticed the crutches and hobbling and nuances on my part. I don't think Soldier saw today as that big of a deal. Although, on the flip side, maybe to him I'm super needy and emotional. 
2. Romance was never a big part of the package with him. I appreciate how practical he is, but if I'm expecting him to pick up on and understand my feelings, it's probably not going to happen. He's just not wired that way...but since I'm not wired to be super outgoing and forthcoming, it's not the easiest. Both ways. 

I did some crosswords. I drew a bath (do people still say that? It seem so posh...but super outdated).  I made a drink. I listened to some music. And, finally, all the built up crap hit me. I miss home. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss doing things. I miss traveling. I miss feeling independent. But the worst part is when you can't rely upon yourself. 
Let's assume you believe everyone has a soul. When your "vessel," your body, doesn't hit your expectations, it's...well, kind of crushing. Don't get me started on having that feeling when everybody else thinks you're so "perfect." That's a post for another day. Eh, or never. 

I'm not great at not being great. I'm sure that's my own fault. 
It's a conundrum, though, dealing with all the masks and who you are in that tiny soul and who you think you are and who you want to be and all the in-between. Uuugh, how existential. Have I mentioned that I hate existentialism? 

I think that's enough of this emo post. You all know I try to keep all the feels locked up in a cage and it's just gross when they escape. 

Sooo...puppies? Rainbows? Children's laughter? Those are good things, and things are (mostly) good. So...good. 

169 Books: Algeria

The Attack by Yasmina Khadra

I have to admit I was a little disappointed in myself when I picked this back up and read the summary again. The author is from Algeria, but the book is set in Tel Aviv. But the description was intriguing and this is what I have on hand for Algeria, so here we go. Here's the summary:
Dr. Amin Jaafari is an Arab-Israeli surgeon at a hospital in Tel Aviv. As an admired and respected member of his community, he has carved a space for himself and his wife, Sihem, at the crossroads of two troubled societies. Jaafari’s world is abruptly shattered when Sihem is killed in a suicide bombing.As evidence mounts that Sihem could have been responsible for the catastrophic bombing, Jaafari begins a tortured search for answers. Faced with the ultimate betrayal, he must find a way to reconcile his cherished memories of his wife with the growing realization that she may have had another life, one that was entirely removed from the comfortable, modern existence that they shared.

For reference, and my geography-challenged friends: Algeria has the big pink arrow, and Tel Aviv has the Google location marker. So they're pretty far away from each other. Anyway, here goes. 

• The action is starting right off the bat. That's kind of fun. 
• This is a really interesting point of view. You see this a lot with mass shootings, bombings, killings of all kind: people want to somehow put the blame on the friends and family. They should have seen it coming, they should have stopped it somehow, they must be involved. It's very scary what people will do out of fear. 
• I really like these characters. They have relatable personalities and flaws that make you wonder if you can ever truly know someone (while not being as truly messed up as Gone Girl) and questioning everything you thought you knew.
• Right around page 100, I noticed a bright red spot at the bottom of the page. It's actually on the bottom edge of the book so it's been getting bigger as I keep reading. It's most certainly marker, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a little eerie considering the book's plot. 
• I got a bit upset when people in the book were praising the suicide bombing. But then I thought that it's not so different from what we do with soldiers who die in battle, because those people see it as a holy war. But then Soldier reminded me that our military doesn't generally go out with the idea of blowing up a bunch of kids having lunch. 
• Well this is an interesting twist. There's a guy saying that they do what they do because the hatred has built up from insults. Now, I have no idea whether that's true or not, but I'm not sure how that relates to the people they're killing that they've never seen before in their lives. 
• In all honesty it sounds like the wife was simply severely, severely depressed.
• Oh. I wasn't sure how the forward fit in but there it is. I will give a semi-spoiler and say this isn't exactly a happy ending. 
I really liked this book. It was the kind that, rather than going out and doing things with Soldier, I wanted to read. (Don't worry, I went out and did stuff anyway) Toward the end, it felt like it may be a romanticized or fantastical depiction of the situation in the middle east, but I honestly have no idea. It didn't really bring me any closer to understanding the whole thing, or why some people want to blow up strangers, but I'm not sure anything will. 
Also, as much as I enjoyed this, I do kind of feel like I cheated myself out of Algeria. At some point, I think I'll come back to it and find another book that's actually set there. 


I've done really well so far. Granted, I've only gone through 3 books, but they've all been pretty good. I'm going to cross my fingers that this continues. 

Nights Alone

Independence and isolation

Soldier has training for 5 days, so I'm riding solo. There was a small part of me that thought this could be good--I'd get time for artsy stuff, crazy clean the apartment, make some recipes he might not be too fond of, and have lots of Laura time. But the bigger part of me was kind of freaked out--five full days spent alone with not a whole lot to do. I hadn't been feeling great before I went to LA, and I almost feel like it got worse coming back...I had the chance to stay in a place that I love, soaking up the sunshine, but desperately wanted to get back to Soldier. I really missed him after a week. Except that I came back to the rain and lack of nightlife (or much life at all). I haven't exactly been the ideal wife lately. 
Aaaanywaaay, he has training this week. We'd decided I wouldn't join; with the money I'd spent in LA I didn't want to spend more, and he said he'd rather we go on vacay than when he had to work. So, cue me riding solo. And...here we go!

Day 1
I sent Soldier off early this AM and promptly crawled back into bed, kiiind of waking up when he let me know he made it safe and sound. I started getting ready for some errands when I got a phone call: I have a job! YAAAY. It's seasonal tourism, which is precisely what I wanted, and I'm super excited for the opportunity. 
Soldier started his training and texted me sporadically (which, honestly, drives me nuts...I think about him all the time when we're not together; I hate that he doesn't).

I didn't do much. 

Uh, that about covers it for today. It's pushing midnight and I really hate the prospect of sleeping alone. Alright, I know I was doing that when I was in LA, but it's different being in my own bed alone, plus when I was there I had close people in the house. 

So it was kind of a lazy day. It was pretty good. 

Day 2
I got my shit together today. Coconut oil hair mask, Save the Dates all printed, letter addressing stencil made (I'm not great with straight lines and I don't want things to look tragically shoddy), cleaning begun. We have an extra room that Soldier keeps trying to turn into a junk room, which I keep fighting. I decided that was a good place to start. 

Let me paint a picture for you...
First off, Soldier's closet is in the extra room. He was sweet enough to give me the big closet even though I offered to split it. What a guy! But it's kind of good. I picked up a pile of the clothes he washed...while I was in LA...from the floor. I replaced an olio of tools to a big tub...from the floor. I also broke down all the boxes we're hanging onto for the next bonfire. Also on the floor, of course. I cleaned up the sewing desk (have I mentioned Soldier is a phenomenal seamst...er? He made me a giraffe fabric onesie using a zip up and jeans for a pattern), organized his closet a bit, and straightened some other odds and ends. 
Let's just say he's not as anal retentive as I am.

Then I moved on to the bathroom. 
Alright, this post isn't just to document every detail of my cleaning. But do you ever get to deep clean and just become astonished at how dusty and dirty things become, and how quickly they get that way?  It's actually kind of fascinating. But also super bothersome. I do kind of like the process of the cleansing though; it's a satisfying end point. 
So, I'm calling it a good start on solo productivity. 

Day 3
I got a start today with a bit of a misty jog, because this is the weather in Juneau 99.8% of the time: 

Actually, though, it was nice. Before all this mess with my immune system and knees, I really enjoyed jogging. I'm glad to get back into it, though it will take me a bit to get off the easy, flat trails. Plus, my knee braces arrived this afternoon so my life is so provocative that I'm excited to try them. Cause, guys, this is my life. Uh, right. Decent start back into jogging. Or yogging...the j might be silent.

TRANSITION!!!

There are few chores that I actively dislike. Dusting (allergies; I know it's counterproductive), ironing, and cleaning the oven. 

Oh. Lawd. Soldier just texted to tell me he's going to bed and said "have a wonderful sleep my wife." ALL THE FEELS. I really, really, really like hearing him call me his wife. Or reading. 

Ugh. Alright. Oven. So I decided I'd take on the oven today. Because I want the apartment to be ridiculously clean when my husband comes home because, DAMN IT, I really love him! And you all already know it and I apologize for the excessive emotion, he's just not romantic very much. And maybe him saying that isn't overly romantic, but it makes me all googly eyed...more than usual. Leave me alone. 

I decided to try some Pinterest tips, mostly with baking soda. So I took out the oven racks and followed the directions with the soda and vinegar, but it didn't really get clean, so I repeated with hot water and dish soap. Which I think may have been a bad decision, because some of the shiny stuff came off. (It's not a varnish, I don't know what to call it.) AND THAT SHIT IS STILL NOT ENTIRELY CLEAN. 

That's why I hate cleaning the oven...it never seems to get clean. WHYYYY.

We'll find out tomorrow if the actual oven worked better, it said it needs at least 12 hours. Dear God I hope it worked better. Oven racks are one thing, but if the actual oven gets all messed up...oh noes. 

Then I did some ironing. Because I hate myself. 

Then I started to hate myself a bit and get pouty and miss Soldier a lot. Which makes his text even better. And n'night, chickadees. 

Oh! And...shit. I forget. Welp if I remember I'll let you know. You know I will! 

Got it. I saw a robin on my jog today; I like to think it was a little bit of the Mitten coming to visit me. All of my MI friends and natives, I miss you lots and lots, and it definitely put a big smile on my face. 

Day 4

I actually did something, guys! Albeit not what I was expecting. 

I completed the daily cleaning spree with some time to return to my Psych binge. I had plans with a friend for dinner and drinks.  She had a volleyball game and I met her out there for what should have been a quick competition. Two and a half freaking hours later it was finished. Two and a half hours. Of watching overweight, grown ass adults acting like they were competing for the world championship while my ass grew numb sitting on the gym floor. Not my cup of tea. 

So we finally went out to eat and have a couple drinks. They have some damn good crab cakes up here. But I ate a bunch of fried food, which I don't normally eat, so that wasn't a fantastic idea. It was a nice trip out, and we made plans to go dancing this weekend. Dancing, guys! I miss those crazy nights! 

Day 5

Soldier gets home today. I'm on a good streak with jogging; I'm happy I've had the motivation to get out there consistently. I finished my epic cleaning and Soldier should be home any time now. I made it! 

Three cheers for me and think shenanigan-like thoughts for this weekend!

NoHo

Debauchery under the Hollywood sign

I'll be honest, there wasn't much debauchery for me, unless you count drinking. There was a lot a lot of that. 

Thursday
I landed in the afternoon and waited a bit for Sister to get there; there was some brutal traffic. It took us 2 hours to get back to the house and we were both pretty done with being in the car. 
We headed out to Rocco's to meet up with Brother in Law and a friend. We indulged--I think I had 3 shots and a drink by the time we headed back. Then we started in with lots of beer. So I was pretty drunk by the time my friend Slim showed up. 

I met Slim years ago when I dated his roommate. I haven't seen him since then, but we keep in touch and talk often. I like Slim because I've never felt like he was attracted to me, and we shared stories about people we were dating. I was looking forward to seeing him. 
So I was more than annoyed when he sat down and said "I haven't told you since you're married but you're super foxy." Ugh. Come on, guy. Me being married now is even more reason not to say shit like that. So I was a little sour from then. 

We played some drunken Pictionary until finally all pouring ourselves into bed. 

Friday
Sister and I didn't get an early start, as we were both a little hungover. We ventured out around lunchtime and went to eat. As we were eating, Brother in Law called about a puppy they'd been talking about getting. He was on his way to pick it up. OMG NEW PUPPY. 

I mean look at this freakin guy.
 Is he not one of the most precious
things you've ever laid eyes on?!

After perking up with food and a drink, we went off to the mall. Shopping makes me happy, especially since it doesn't exist in Juneau. From the mall, we went to see the horses. I think. I remember all the stuff we did but not necessarily the order. I do remember that we didn't get back to the house before the puppy did. 

Sister wasn't feeling very well so we ordered in and watched Beerfest. I chose some German beer to be festive. 

Can we take a minute to talk about all the amazing apps and services available in LA?! Transportation, food, booze, laundry, dog walking, and those are just the ones that came up in conversation. It's lovely.

Saturday
Hmm. This is getting harder. Oh! I know. Sister and I planned to visit The Last Bookstore. On the way, we adventured into Grand Central Market where we both had falafel for the first time. Quite yummy. Off to the Last Bookstore, which was just as cool as I'd imagined. Lots of sculptures, paintings, and tons of books. In fact, I had a list for my 169 books but didn't even know where to start looking. 

Next I had some shopping I needed to do; MAC and Tiffany's. Sounds easy, but it was remarkably difficult and tedious. It involved the Metro, which I enjoy. There was a lot of walking involved during the day and my legs started to hurt. I was very glad to get my engagement ring cleaned, but I was very ready to get back and relax. 

Later that night, Sister and Brother in Law had a gig. It was a lot of fun--I got spoiled with ample drinks, and I got to see all the friends I made last time I was out there. Plus it's always a good time watching them play. 
Sister left early, but she was still up when I got home. We stayed up way too late drinking more. But we had fun. 

Sunday
I had every intention of going to church. But, you know...the road to hell and all that. Clearly I did not make it. Brother in Law and I took the older dog to the dog park. There's a chance something happened in the meantime, but later that evening we went to see Batman v Superman. Thank you very much Henry Cavill's abs. 
Even better, we went to a luxury cinema. I would like for that to be the only way I watch movies now (and for every movie to contain Henry Cavill's abs amiright). We sat in reclining lazy boys and were waited on for drinks, dinner, and regular theater snacks. Lovely. 

Monday
Uh. Hmm. What did we do on Monday? I think Brother in Law and I went running at Fryman Canyon. Then Sister and I went...somewhere. Then to the garden store. My Niece came home that night. I love that kid. 

Tuesday
Sister had to go back to work and Niece had to go back to school, so I was on my own. I decided I wanted to check out the Getty Center. This took a lot of self-pep-talk; telling myself that there was no reason to be afraid of going off on my own and adventuring in the city. So off I went. 

I made it as far as the Park & Ride at the Metro station. There wasn't a single open spot, so I turned around. I know, it was a puss move. But in the time I spent searching I was given ample opportunity to talk myself out of my courage. And if you have any level of social anxiety, you can understand that. 

So, back at the house, I asked Slim what he was up to. So we went to lunch and for a drive. There was another strike: the cashier asked for thoughts on Batman v Superman, and how Ben Affleck was. I said that actually I'd been disappointed with Jeremy Irons character, as he was too young and the dynamic wasn't right. To which Slim said that I'm just sensitive. 
Oh no, oooh nooo. I disliked the dynamic for the same reason I didn't like Jude Law's depiction of Watson: it wasn't true. The characters are written as exceedingly devoted, and they were played as flippant and annoyed. I think that's a fair critique. 
On the other hand, saying I'm "sensitive" because I have an opinion you don't agree with, is as bad as asking a woman if she's on her period when she's irritated. It's just stupid. I figured it was best to just roll my eyes at him rather than argue. 

That afternoon, Niece had a riding lesson. Sister had at first said we'd go on a trail ride, which I was really looking forward to. At the last minuted it turned out that a friend of Niece's was coming along so we wouldn't be able to. I ended up in a familiar position: watching on the sidelines. I guess that's what happens when you're the shy one hanging out with some very outgoing personalities. 
I got to see Niece do some neat tricks, and I got up on her horse for a few minutes. Not very long, since I really don't know what I'm doing, but it was nice of them to offer. 

Wednesday
Slim and I had plans to start early, we were attempting to tackle both the California Science Center and Getty Center before Niece got out of school. It was an arduous task when I was so deprived of sleep, but it happened. 
The Science Center wasn't as exciting as I was hoping; there wasn't that much to see. Although we didn't go see the Endeavor so I guess that's kind of my own fault, but I also wanted to spend some extra time at the Getty Center.

The Getty Center was a madhouse. I didn't really think that there would be so many school groups coming right out of spring break. I love museums; I can't stand people. They ruin everything. But there was an exhibition of tapestries from the time of Louis XIV, which were awesome. They decorated the rooms to look like Versailles. I quite enjoyed that, and Slim was a good museum companion. Neither one of us were into analyzing the art...basically walk through and that was good enough. 
Overall it was fun, despite my tired irritableness. 

The last hoorah was to take Niece shopping. We were looking for a dress for the wedding (for her) and some shoes for her upcoming formal. (Which, good Lord. Who allows girls to grow up? She's turning into a young woman and I don't like it at all.)
We went bust on those tasks, but I was of course able to find some stuff for myself. Maybe it's good that we don't have any good shopping here. 

When we got home hours later, we 3 adults sat down for a movie. We watched Concussion, which I highly recommend. Also, I'm not a fan of football so it gave me another reason to dislike it. 

Thursday
I got up early to say goodbye. Sister and Niece kept trying to talk me into staying through the weekend. Part of me wanted to, but I missed Soldier a lot. I also get tired of just sitting on the sidelines. It's definitely my own fault; Sister is outgoing and has lots of exciting things going on in her life. 
Now that I'm back, I kinda wish I'd stayed. I'm back to the grind of trying to find a job and feeling a little dispirited. 

Well, I don't want to end on that sour note. I will say that I always have a good time with Sister, and they always spoil me. And a week of sunshine does wonders. 

Oh, the things my Burberrys have seen

"Give a girl the right pair of shoes and she can conquer the world."-Marilyn Monroe
Maybe. I got that off the internet. 

I have these rain boots: 

I got them in 2009. It was spring break spent visiting my sister in LA for the first time. We took a weekend and drove to Vegas, also my first time there. I had been saving up to do some major shopping: Rodeo Drive, Caesar's Palace, and one of my latest obsessions at the time: Burberry. We went there in Vegas and it's still one of the best shopping experiences I've ever had. I walked away with those beauts. 

When we headed back to North Dakota, we got an extended spring break. On account of the Red River's worst flood ever. So my new footwear got broken in quickly. I lived about a block or two from the dike and did some exploring on it to see the water rising and the park disappearing. Fun Fact: the day after I did my exploring, they started arresting people for being on the dike. 

Needless to say, it was very wet for quite a while. So my boots got a lot of use. 

They've joined me in the slush and wet of many a fall and spring. They've been the envy of many people who weren't rushing to spend $200 on rain boots (shocking!). (They're also much more expensive now...sooo...yay me.) 

They've gone with me from North Dakota back to Michigan and up to Alaska. 

At first, I was hesitant to use my boots very much up here...which is kind of dumb because it rains 94% of the time. I mostly threw them on for a quick run to the store but not a whole lot else. 

Then I got married. Dun dun duuuuuuuuun!

All hail the dramatic transition! Since we were getting married outside I was either going to wear my Uggs or Burberrys, and the rain boots just looked better. 

But this meant they had to be broken in on the mile walk to the waterfall. And they did just fine. So I started to wear them hiking a little more, mostly on days that were wetter than I wanted to test my hiking boots on. Then I started wearing them more and more when I felt like just slipping something on. 

Yesterday Soldier and I went out hiking and ended up on some trails that were much more rustic than we'd anticipated. We were trudging through mud, small rocky streams, over fallen trees, (nervously) on the edges of small cliffs, and finally ended up on a helipad looking out over Juneau and the ocean. I was looking down, trying to avoid tripping over something, and was suddenly absorbed by the journey these boots have taken. I can't imagine this is how most people use their designer boots. 

I looked at my lovelies today, and there's dirt all over them. It put kind of an affectionate smile on my face to think of all their travels, instead of being sad that they're all muddy. They've been with me for a lot...like stylish, classy friends...that keep my feet dry. 

Maybe I'll bring them home for the big wedding and get some pictures, just for fun. And maybe I'll start taking more pictures of them, and start documenting their adventures.   That'd be fun for you guys, right? Psh, who am I kidding. Of course it would. And I'm very concerned about your entertainment so it would be for that and not AT ALL because I'm floundering to come up with good posts in boring Alaska. 

And now it's time for the punny post-ending: These (chich) boots were made for walking, y'all.

A Night Out

With bells and whistles

We've taken to having people over for game nights on Saturdays. I always complain about it a little bit but usually end up having a lot of fun. 

Last night we had 5 people over by the end. We started off playing Settlers of Catan, and for some reason it took an absurd amount of time, and I was pretty buzzed by the end of it. We then played Avalon, which we just got and knew nothing about. This was when my interest in the whole thing started to dwindle. My legs have been acting up a bit, I was tired, and I think my meds aren't making me feel great lately. Then we played Cards Against Humanity, which is always a good time. But really I was just ready for everyone to leave so I could cuddle up with Soldier.

About midnight, people started going outside, I think to smoke. Soldier put on his coat and I asked him not to go, knowing someone would talk him into going to the bar. And then I was left all alone, which made me sad. 
So of course he came back up and asked if I would mind him going to the bar. And of course I didn't want him to. Soldier has a weakness sometimes of drinking way more than he should, which makes me very worried, and I could tell he was already feeling pretty good. Then he put the guilt trip on me that he really hasn't done much without me since we've been up here.  
TR, the friend who wanted to go out, came up about that time and sweetly asked if Soldier could go out, then said that I should go too. Well, fine. If you can't beat em, join em. Unless you're cranky me. 

So we went out to this, I don't want to say dive bar, but it's definitely not overly classy. It started out fine, we started playing pool (badly in my case). A couple of TR's roommates arrived, and TR and Soldier decided they needed to go get cigars. I was okay at first, but then the time started to drag on and I started to get uncomfortable. By the time Soldier got back, he was in a "debating" mood. (His debating, to me, is just arguing. There's not a ton of back and forth)
For some reason we started discussing the issue of some bakeries refusing to make gay wedding cakes and whether or not they could choose to do that. (BTW, I was right. HAHA, I WAS RIGHT.) But each time I tried to make my points, he interrupted me...which eventually just pisses me off and makes me end the conversation. 

So I got mad, Soldier went up to the bar, and I sat there for a minute. Then I went over to where my purse and our coats were and messed around on my phone for a while. I thought once Soldier finished his drink he'd come back, but he evidently forgot about me. As I was sitting there stewing, more people came into the pool area. I was alone and it was obvious that they were rowdy, so I got even more upset that Soldier was ignoring me (despite my pouting). 

I huffed over to him with his coat and told him that he could leave me alone if he wanted but he could at least take his shit. I then sat next to TR who profusely apologized for "making" us go out, even though I kept insisting that we're adults and we made the choice. And then I told him that I just needed to be mad for a minute but that I was fine. 
There were two gentlemen sitting on my other side who started talking to me, and they were nice. Soldier decided it was safe to leave me chatting with them while he went to play another game of pool, but he at least told me this time. Again, it eventually got old. 

This bar obnoxiously stayed open till 3 so I was more than ready to go by then. Soldier called a cab and we moved to the parking lot with everyone else. He was off doing...I don't know what, and I was chatting with TR and some other people that were in the area. Then some guy came up and put his arm on my back and (I thought) said "I want to take her home." But TR answered, which made me question what he'd actually said. I was a little taken aback, but whatever. 
A few minutes later, the same guy came back and asked where I was going or something similar. I stressed that I'm married and would be going home with my husband, and he wanted to know who my husband was. He seemed to not believe me or not care or something, and I reiterated my sentiment more than once. Our cab came and I about sprinted to get in. As we were leaving, I thought I heard that guy expressing surprise about it. 

I was a little shaken. It's not like I've never been hit on at the bar before, but this was a different level. When he initially said something about taking me home, it wasn't a question. In fact, it wasn't even directed at me. It was like I was something for him to take and that's just what was going to happen. 

I still feel creepy-crawly about it. I don't know if there's much for gang activity out here, but that was the feeling I got from these guys. Lesson learned: closing time at the dive-ish bar is not meant for a classy broad. 

169 Books: Albania

The Palace of Dreams Ismail Kadare

For those that are a little rusty on their geography, Albania is here:

• I'll also assume that fewer people have read this book than the last one I did, so here's the synopsis: The mysterious Palace of Dreams stands at the heart of a vast but fragile Balkan empire. Inside, workers assiduously sift, sort, classify, and ultimately interpret the dreams of the empire's citizens. The workers search out Master-Dreams that will provide clues to the destiny of the empire and its Sultan.
  Mark-Alem, scion of a noble family that has provided viziers to the Sultan from time immemorial, and whose power the Sultan distrusts, is recruited into the Palace of Dreams at the humblest level. He immediately feels the terrible pressure that drives his coworkers, the dread of overlooking a crucial dream whose capture and interpretation might avert political disaster.
  But he rapidly rises through the hierarchy--only barely finding his bearings in one section of the Palace's labyrinthine passages that represent the entire empire's consciousness before he is promoted to another. And the pressure only increases as he becomes familiar with the fates of subversive dreamers and personally responsible for the sort of dreams that might ruin an entire family. A family like his own. 
  • Kind of a slow start. We'll see.
  • The guy just shows up out of nowhere to this super secret government agency and they're all like "yeah you work here now." Must be nice.  
  • Interesting idea: that all thought, good or bad, begins in dreams. Discuss.
  • I'm getting a pretty big sense of Big Brother a la 1984.
  • The word "shan't" should make a comeback.
  • I'm still as confused as the main character is.
  • Hmm...apparently this isn't actually set in Albania, but I can't figure out where it is set. Apparently some made up empire. Wait, no, it's the Balkan area...but I can't decide if they still recognize the separate countries. I'm also not entirely sure when this is. 
  • OH. I'm dumb. I think you're supposed to be that confused so it ties you to the main character.
  • Shit just got real. It's going down, Mark-Alem is yelling timber.
  Okay, I tried not to give away as much as I did with the last book, because I think many people have already read that one. 
  Anyway, I liked this book overall. It started out a bit slowly; as I already mentioned, though, I think you were supposed to feel the confusion and that did help to transfer you into the book. Actually, because of the descriptions, I kind of imagined the Palace as the Ministry of Magic from Harry Potter. 
  Anyway the excitement did pick up toward the end, although the confusion stayed there. And, despite the slowness to the beginning, I did like it. I very much felt the sense of an oppressive society where even your subconscious thoughts aren't safe. It was a little eerie. Admittedly, I haven't read 1984 since high school, but I was reminded of it, minus all the techy stuff that I think I remember from that one. But I might be making that up. Anyway, this was a good one. 
  
  
  Next up is Algeria, but I'm going to take a break for a couple weeks. I'm going to LA next week and I don't feel like taking any physical books. Wah, wah, I know.