makinglovely’s blog

So, I moved from Maine to Michigan in September. September was filled with hopeful Pollyanna-isms, each day a new beginning. In October, doubt about my choice to move began creeping in. November was marked by despair. In December, January, and February, I sunk into a black hole of depression. In March, I began seeking ways out of it. It is April now, and I am just beginning to see the absurdity and humor in the situation, and trying to enjoy the journey while seeking out the right destination. Who knows where I'll end up, but I am happy to say that I am laughing and smiling again.

We are soon moving out of the apartment which received us into the state. Goodbye, kitchen that is so small that I sweep the floor with a whiskbroom. I will not really miss you. But I will be grateful for you teaching me the lesson that I can live with very few physical possessions in a very small space. And for the laughter that you provided me and my girlfriend after arguments when we realized that there was no where to go in the place where we weren't in view of the other.

Goodbye, Conservative Christian City. I will not really miss you either. But I will always remember the way that you forced me to stand up for myself, and how I feel braver and stronger for having been in the shark tank. And at least I have found a target market if I ever decide to begin a Christian bumper sticker business.

And I have an interview this Friday for a new job which, if I do get, I think I will like a lot better than the job I'm in now. But even if I don't get this job, I know I will aggressively pursue another. So I will also bid adieu my current position. Goodbye, current job. There will be nothing about you that I will miss. Okay, maybe I will miss overhearing the gay guy and the straight guy that sit behind me and flirt with each other all day. That is pretty awkward and funny.

And so here I am in my new life, living in a place that I thought I knew, but now I'm trying to get to know all over again. I am trying to remember to look for the positive in the everyday and realize that I might just be here for a good reason (although I haven't quite figured out what that reason might be just yet). And I'm trying to remember to laugh as I move from one absurd situation to the next, viewing my life more as a comedy than a tragedy. Because you can't make this stuff up, folks - it's solid comedy gold.  

Greetings from michigan

Things I miss about Maine:

- Tofu & seitan

- Gay people, and people who like gay people

- Democrats

- Bicycling and walking everywhere

- The ocean

- Cars without the Jesus Fish symbol thing on their bumper

We are going to visit the Ann Arbor/Ypsilanti area again this weekend, and hopefully explore a little bit more. There are parts of that area that really appeal to us, and I have a feeling that we would be a little less homesick if we lived there instead of western Michigan. I have no idea why we didn't listen to the numerous people that told us that this was the Conservative Republican/Christian capitol of the state. All I know is that I want to run far, far away.

In non-moving news, I am starting to craft and sew again. Once in a while over the last few months, I would open the doors of my sewing cabinet and stare wistfully inside, but I just couldn't bring myself to actually start a project. This moving depression totally ruined my crafting mojo, but thank God, I think I am starting to get some of it back. Making things is like the best anti-depressant ever.  

Once upon a time there was a girl, we'll call her Amy, who lived in Maine. Amy lived on a little street, which we'll call Herman Street, in the "bad" neighborhood in a little town called Portland. Amy had a full time job with full medical and dental benefits and a retirement plan, and her regular paychecks, although small, managed to pay the bills. This job also paid for her to go to school, which she loved even though she complained about it often. She also had a wonderful partner who was everything she had ever wanted, great friends who she didn't hang out with nearly often enough through no error on their part, and a pretty cute and reasonably priced apartment.

The problem with Amy is that she never knew when to leave well enough alone. She complained about her circumstances, always focusing on what she didn't have rather than what she did have. Amy was a dreamer, and carried herself through life peeping over imaginary fences, seeing the grass as greener over the other side. She made big plans to jump the biggest fence she could imagine clearing: Amy would move across the country. Oh, she reasoned, The grass over there has affordable housing, and we'll live closer to our families if we live on that grass, and I feel more at home on that grass.

But, as it often does, the grass seemed to change colors once Amy was on the other side. It wasn't so green anymore once she couldn't find a job for five freaking months and she killed at least 10 various species of bugs a week in her crappy apartment and the area where they lived in was so backwards that her partner couldn't even come out as gay at work for fear of persecution. Amy started wondering if she had misperceived the shade of the grass on the previous side of the fence, and pondering whether it was possible that a fence, once jumped, could be jumped again in the reverse direction.

But Amy definitely had learned a huge life lesson through all of this, and although she now questions her own ability to make large decisions, she is attempting to move forward in her life. Whether that will involve staying on the current grass, jumping back to the previous grass, or moving to different grass entirely is yet to be determined by Amy's now slightly shaky self-confidence.

The end. Sort of.  

simplicity 3893

Sewing with a pattern is great in times of stress because it offers concrete directions to help you accomplish something when you otherwise feel like you can't get anything done in real life. You can tell I'm stressed out, because I stayed up past midnight on Sunday night in a fit of crafting frenzy, making this shirt. I always make those darn dresses that are cute and sweet, but not so practical for everyday wear (go ahead, just ask me about the time I came back from the restroom at work with my dress tucked into my undies). So my solution is to make shirts instead for a while.

This one was super simple to make, and took me about 4 hours from start to finish (so satisfying). The pattern envelope recommended more slinky fabrics, not cotton, and now I think I see why. I still haven't forgiven the shirt for looking so much like hospital scrubs, but I'm wearing it nonetheless, and I'll give it a couple of points for cuteness in the category of under-bust gathers and for the fabric print.

Other than stress causing my crafting frenzies, it also causes me to have anxiety-filled dreams all night. Last night I dreamt that I was a character in a Harry Potter-like world, and I was so upset because everyone had magic powers but me. Actually, it was that I used to have magic powers, but I had somehow lost them, like they just stopped working one day. (Read: I used to be able to control my life, but lately I feel out of control. I coulda been a psychology major.)

Dear friends,

It is 900 degrees (no really, I think it actually is) in my 4th-floor apartment on this lovely July day, and I'm sitting in the hottest room in our house, writing to tell you what I did on my summer vacation.

Do you know about Bar Harbor? Of course you do. Everyone knows about Bar Harbor, it is no secret. Martha Stewart has a summer house there, did you know that? I was hoping to have an encounter of the Martha Stewart kind while we were there last week, you know, like standing in line at the convenience store, finding her buying Cool Ranch Doritos or something. "Hi, Martha, How's it going? Cool Ranch is my favorite, too." That sort of thing. Or maybe a Slurpee. Martha Stewart drinking a Slurpee. For some reason, that seems very endearing to me. Anyway, no luck on the Martha Stewart encounters this time. But maybe if you visited Mt. Desert Island, you might run into her. It's worth a shot. I'd keep an eye out on the convenience stores, if I were you.

Oh, and there's other stuff around the island, too. Like this, for instance:

Cadillac mountain summit

I guess that was pretty cool to see, as well. I'd been to Acadia before, but this was the first time I went up Cadillac Mountain. Everything felt and looked sort of surreal up there, like time was just standing still and the whole earth was just holding its breath. The little islands offshore looked like whales mid-swim to me.

The day before that, we went on an adventure to Thuya Garden & Lodge and the Asticou Azalea Gardens, which are these crazy elaborate nature walks & gardens built by rich people a long time ago. We found out about them pretty randomly right before we went (they're kind of hidden), and we were so glad we did.

Thuya garden walk

Thuya garden walk overlook

Asticou garden

And the rest of our vacation was mostly spent back at our campsite, where we spent the week getting camp-filthy, gorging ourselves on delicious camp food, and getting alternately eaten alive by bugs and soaked by thunderstorms.  

But I got to wear a straw cowboy hat around all week. With pigtails, no less. And that's all you really need to make a good vacation, isn't it?

More photos here.

After a marathon-length period of non-posting, here's a little update on what I'm up to lately:

•  Counting down the weeks until our move to Michigan (about 7 at present)
•  Looking forward to our camping trip in Bar Harbor next week
•  Just held our first-ever yard sale last weekend - It went very well - we had a little bit of fun and made a good chunk of money on stuff that we were going to donate anyway!
•  Deep-cleaning our apartment as we pack and realizing that we need to do more deep-cleaning on a regular basis
•  Trying to pick out a cell phone and a plan and feeling my head spin
•  After selling our tv at the yard sale, debating whether or not we really need to get a new tv at all
•  Starting our Michigan job searches
•  General busyness and calamity, but what's new?

I think I'm going to start trying to get in the habit of updating my Vox more frequently, both to chronicle my life's happenings and let you know what I'm up to!

I am so done with being in Maine. How could this be? I love Maine. Who doesn't love Maine. But I am right in the middle of that conundrum of loving something, but not being in love with it. If this were a relationship, I would seriously be considering either couples therapy or a breakup.

Maine is sort of a mess. It's a big, beautiful mess. On one hand, it's got the ocean, tons of great history, beautiful forests and wildlife, and a laid-back, progressive state of mind. On the other hand, jobs offer terrible salaries, housing is redonkulously expensive, everything worth doing outside of Portland is hours worth of driving away, and, well, we're just tired of being here.

But oh, it's so hard to justify moving away. I received notice of the financial aid package for school that I would receive if I stayed here for the next year, and let's just say that only a fool would turn down the chance I've been given. And we are already settled into a pretty cute apartment, and Kelly could easily get a good (although low-paying) job with all of the connections she has here. Everything looks so good on paper. But our hearts just aren't in it. Every time we visit the midwest, it's like my heart starts beating again and I can breathe a little easier. The people are different; they are humble and genuine. We could easily afford to buy a nice little house there. But the school would be expensive, and the jobs aren't any more numerous there than they are here, although they do pay a little better.

And so I think we are going to go ahead with our plan. We rented a moving van for August, and we're trying to figure out the whole Where-are-we-going-to-live And Where-are-we-going-to-work questions. But I guess if it is meant to be, all of that will work out.

I am sad to leave Maine. But I'm also very excited about what lies ahead.

April snow

It's April 5th. And we woke up to about 12 inches of snow in my neighborhood. No suprise, really though. Winter always likes to get one last sucker punch in up here--it will be 70 degrees for 3 weeks straight come spring, and then along comes a huge snow storm in April or May like this one. It's like we are so far north that Mother Nature fails to deliver the memo that it's spring now.

No ducks in sight

Don't think that I'm complaining, though. I've got the day off work because of it. I don't know of any other state that's cancellation-happy like ours is; we can get a literal dusting of snow, and all of a sudden everything shuts down. Today, however, definitely warranted a cancellation.

Bummer

The snow was wet and very, very heavy. There were power lines down all over. This poor dude across the street from us parked under the wrong tree, and ended up with a tree limb across his car this morning.

Thank goodness for apple boots

But as a side note, I was bouncing around like a happy little five year old on my walk, as I had just gotten an adorable pair of rubber boots that allowed me to slosh through the knee-deep snow with the greatest of ease. Thanks to a certain special someone who sleeps in my bed with me at night. :)

And so now I just have to decide: what to do with this snow day? It's the eternal dilemma.

Showdown

What are the 10 most memorable music performances you've seen? (Remember, "memorable" may not be good.) 
Submitted by Bill. 

I'm only gonna list one, because there's really only one worth telling a story about.

A few years ago, I had just gone through a breakup and was ready to rock out to Erin McKeown's bubbly sounds with a group of my beloved friends, of which eachroad was one of. When we got to the concert, we found out that Andrew Bird would be opening for Erin....none of us had heard of him at the time, but cool, new music, right? Except it wasn't. If you have never seen Andrew in concert, just know that he is does these crazy things where he improvs musically, records it right then and there, and loops it back around, records a new musical improv loop, and on and on ad nauseam until he's got like 18 tracks going and your head is spinning and you feel like you dropped some crazy acid. It gets all discordant and melancholy. Definitely not what I was in the mood for. And his opening act went on forever. We were trying so hard to be polite, but pretty much everyone in my group of friends was ready to poke our eyes out.

So the concert finally went on and everything, but when my roomates (of which eachroad was also one of) and I got home that night, we pressed play on the answering machine, and ......wait for it.... what should start playing, but about 20 minutes of Andrew Bird, haunting us by leaving a very lengthy musical message. What probably happened was that one of our cell phones called home by accident by being pressed into a purse or pocket, and therefore recorded a portion of the concert, but our theory then was that it was the ghost of Andrew Bird, haunting us with his dizzying musical sounds.

*FYI, I must insert a disclaimer here that I really do believe that Andrew Bird is a talented musical artist, and my musical tastes have changed since the days of this story....nowadays I find myself liking me some Andrew Bird. But back then, I was in a bad place and much in the mood for some candy-like music.

When our local organic/hippie grocery store was recently bought out and closed down by the ginormous Whole Foods, everyone who held one of the original local store's club cards was offered a $25 gift card to the new WF as a sort of "Sorry we're taking over/Please come shop with us now" consulation prize. And with the genius idea of getting a French press for nearly nothing with that little gift card, we finally made our way down to WF last night. We had never had coffee made with a French press before, and we were excited at the prospect. Well, $5 later, we were on our way home with this beauty:

Sellout french press

And now I am addicted to coffee. I drank a huge cup this morning, and I feel like I am on crack. Whizzing around here, cleaning and talking on the phone and my heart beating so fast. Thinking that maybe it would be best if I didn't do this every morning--maybe just on special occasions.

Oh, but now I'm off track. Sellout. That's what I am. And Whole Foods was huge and scary. There were one billion items, all stacked in pretty displays and smelling delicious. It was overwhelming. I felt like I had Organic Grocery Store Induced A.D.D.

Which brings me to my next item: One day I will be an organic farmer. Or at least have my own little patch of vegetables, so I don't have to buy $5 heads of lettuce in order to make a healthy salad, and I don't have to feel guilty about putting money into the pocket of The Man (who, although organic-supporting, is The Man nonetheless), as in the case of Whole Foods.

Alright, I am going to finish up my crack coffee-induced rant now. But before I go, I would like you to witness as I channel my mother, circa 1971:

Exact replica

Holy crap. That was scary.