Oh, and then ... » Daily Living

Our Rustic Christmas

lb — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 07:37:05 +0000

I’m not big into holidays. Not really my thing. I dislike Christmas music and easily get fired up about insane consumerism/materialism of the season (of which, unfortunately, I often participate in. ugh.) But this year, my goal is to embrace the holidays and learn to enjoy the nonstop twitter tirade of “Just tuned in to the 24/7 Christmas music station!” and “Starbucks finally has their gingerbread/apple cider/acorn delight lattes!” Why am I such a Scrooge?!

This year will be different though. I WILL BE A JOLLY GOOD ELF! Even if it kills me… And so, to start the season off right, Koes and I cut down a tree. Neither of us has ever had a real Christmas tree and after talking to some longtime PDX-ers we found out that chopping down your own tree is super cheap. And FUN. I loved it. Maybe it was the hunt. Finding the perfect tree was no easy task. It took us at least an hour to find “the one.” Maybe it was the therapeutic act of using a saw for the first time ever. Anger and aggression is temporarily relieved. Maybe it was being in the fresh air and smoochin on the Bong in a forest that kinda reminded me of Twilight. Whatever it was, it was really fun. It helped me forget about all the things I hate about holidays and focus on what I am truly loving about this Christmas season…

Happy as a Clam: The Glorious Benefits of Marrying Up

lb — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 15:44:19 +0000

This weekend we received some pretty terrible news. I’m realizing that when I get stressed or upset I shut down and sleep. The Bong? He cooks.

During our honeymoon to Seattle, we had dinner one night at a place called Palace Kitchen. Oh, goodness. I won’t say that that was the highlight of the honeymoon, but it was amazing. I had clams for the first time and fell in love. So ever since we’ve been on the hunt for great clams here in Portland and we’ve found some OK places. But then Koes decided to make them himself. Seriously. They were beyond delicious and I’m hoping that he makes them for dinner again tonight. And tomorrow night. And every night after. They were that good.

So while I don’t want to receive any more bad news for a while, I am secretly plotting ways to stress out the Bong so that he’ll cook me up some more deliciousness. So wrong. But it feels so right.

Too Much of a Good Thing

lb — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 19:19:47 +0000

Last week Portland hit record highs of 100+. I kept thinking all week that this shouldn’t be a big deal-I’m of hearty stock, being a third generation Okie and all, right? Wrong. I cried like a baby. Portland has yet to discover the only thing that makes Oklahoma survivable during the summer, a novel invention called AC. When I moved into my studio apt, now fondly referred to as the “Lovin’ Oven,” I was assured that no apartments in Portland have AC. Some Portlanders even called it “unnecessary.” I’m pretty sure that those same Portlanders cried this week as well. On a relational level, this ridiculous heat almost ruined my new marriage. Confession: I might have snapped at the Bong a couple of times in morning when he tried to hug me goodbye. I’m pretty sure the makeup covered his black eye well though. That’ll teach him to try and hug me again.

Please Weatherman/woman, send a few rain clouds our way. It’s very unlikely I will ever make this request again, so please?

Home Sweet Home

lb — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 06:21:06 +0000

As someone who has lived in the most obscure random places in the world*, the longing for a home intensifies each year. That and the fact that I HATE moving. But then, I have yet to meet someone who gets psyched about putting all of their crap into boxes, carrying it up the inevitable 3 floors and then leaving said crap in boxes until the next move. I digress. Home. Where you can just be. You can let the ugly out and it doesn’t frighten anyone. In the past, I have mistakenly thought that home would be destination, a finally resting place. A place where all my junk could have its own special and permanent place. Oh, but I’ve learned that it is so much more than that. Recently, I happened to fall into marriage most unexpectedly. Due to the unexpected quality of said marriage, the Bong and I have moved into my tiny but beautifully old studio apartment. You read correctly, STUDIO. We share exactly one room with no doors and the tiniest “closet” one can imagine. While I long for the day of having a door that separates the bedroom from the kitchen from the bathroom from the closet, I have finally captured the once elusive feeling of home. It will never be a place. Home will forever be where the Bong is.

(I’m fully aware that he will threaten to move me to Asia after reading this all while quoting this post but it had to be said. Sigh.)

*Obscure and Random places that I have lived:

Post college- I shared a house with two girlfriends. It was a two bedroom place that claimed to be a three bedroom due to a sunroom. I moved my bed into that sunroom and and became a BEDroom. Because that’s all that would fit.

2000ish- I moved to Slovakia and shared a third room attic with a 13 year old and a cat whose name eludes me. Definitely one of the best roomies ever. But still, kinda random. Later I moved in with my sweet Mama Nela into her one bedroom apartment in a commie condo. She spoke a little English, I spoke no Slovak except for the curse words that high school boys taught me. By far, one of the best experiences of my life. XOXO Hannah and Mama Nela

I had a brief stint in a normal housing situation living in an apartment. Nice. Then mid 2000’s, I signed a deal with the devil and moved into my own personal hell. I became a live-in nanny. And I lived in their garage. And there were rodents and bugs. And it was awful. And then I was adopted by a nice family.

2006- After living in the shack for a year, I won a game of MASH and moved up to the Mansion. The nice family was much more than nice. I lived with them for two years and thought of staying with them forever.

2008- My sister and I united forces and moved in together. I actually had to pay rent. Ew. BUT got to live with J and we both got hit on by a mullet man who obviously had great taste. No, Ronnie, neither my sister nor I want to date you. Especially not at the same time. Double Ew.

Which brings me to Portland. Where the Bong and I are playing house (well, studio to be exact) and where my heart has found its home. Forever.

Home is where the heart is. Yes, indeed.