My Great Migration

Well it took three years, but we’ve finally decided that it’s time to leave this apartment in search of greener pastures and possible granite countertops. I’m not quite sure what took us so long to leave. Among the best memories I have of my current living quarters are the “musician” who lived downstairs and liked to shake the things on our walls, the landlord who takes 8 months to respond to a broken fan, and those who can’t understand how to park straight. Yes, cheap rent will make you do crazy things.

As the date for the big move approaches, I’m reminded of why moving is officially on my top 10 shittiest things to do in life list. First you have to pack. This leads to, “How the hell did I acquire this?” I think I’m just starting to recover from the college phase of life where everyone in your family just gives you household items. At first you think it’s great because now you don’t have to buy a bread pan. But then you realize that they’re just pawning junk on to you and now you have four bread pans, (Yes, four! Again, how did I acquire this?).  Packing usually leads to cleaning as you uncover the dust from every inch of your room. In my case this was so bad that when I blew my nose, dust came out. Yum.

After you pack, you have to find a place to live. Did you know that people can claim a 400 square foot apartment with no air conditioning, no off street parking, and no closet is “charming”? You can live in a “vintage” downtown building with cupboards so old that they will probably fall or have a cozy home for mice in them for the biggest steal of only $1500 a month! I know this is only a one bedroom place, but don’t worry because water is paid for. Sometimes I just want to walk in and say, “Hello, I’m a teacher, where is my discount?”  I’ll just keep crossing my fingers that some rich person wants me to live in their gorgeous basement apartment for a low, low price, (I’m even willing to be in the basement! Wait, I mean “garden level” oy).

I guess at least I can provide you all with some of my sarcastic comments before I go pack some more boxes. Think of me when you see that U-Haul driving by, because chances are, I’ll need a friendly face.

Musically Inclined

I’m not afraid to admit that I love listening to the oldies radio station. Perhaps this is because in the small southern Utah town that I grew up in there were only three radio stations- country, easy listening, and oldies. I started thinking about my musical tastes when I was shuffling through my ipod the other day and noticed that my music says quite a lot about me. 1. Apparently I have a small addiction to Christmas tunes 2. Jay Z can in fact play encore to the Dixie Chicks and 3. I listen to a lot of music brought to you by my parents.

  

Now I know that parents have a large influence on their kids, (frightening for some which I can legally say because I’m a teacher) but who would’ve thunk that because my dad grooves to Santana and my mom rocks to Whitney Houston that I would suddenly become the crazy chick singing along to The Supremes? I guess it’s kind of interesting to think about why it is that you listen to the music that you do, especially when music says so much about who a person is. We know we’ve inherited hair and eye color, but perhaps an ear for classics as well? I guess this is okay because at least I don’t try to attempt my dad’s sweet dance moves which involve pouting your lips and pretending to jog in place at a rather slow pace which is exaggerated on the beats (my dad is so cool). I suppose as long as I don’t turn into the guy with the unbuttoned shirt and flowing white locks at the Crosby Stills and Nash concert (he also had cutoff jean shorts, true story) then I can continue to rock (in the free world). And for the record, yes, that is Paul McCartney.

Your Roaring 20s

I’ve barely reached the ripe old age of my mid-20s, however little by little I’m starting to notice that I’m feeling a bit old. It almost seems like your age starts to get caught up with you during this time because you’re no longer that kid in college, but you’re also not that new young mom in your 30s. What exactly are you supposed to be doing with your life? I’ve compiled this list of things that let you know you are in you are officially in this unmapped age zone.

1.       You’ve started to get annoyed at those damn teenage drivers. I swear, if they hit the car that you now have a payment for with the car that their parents gave them, there will be hell to pay.

2.       A night out at the club now sounds like a large headache compared to a riveting evening of bowling with your pals.

3.       If you do go out for that night at the club there is a clearly designated driver, or you actually have the money to pay for a cab.

4.       The people at Crate and Barrel as well as Babies ‘r’ Us know you by name. This is because you’ve gone to about 400 bridal showers, bachelorette parties, weddings, and baby showers in about a span of a month. Bring on that registry!

5.       You can no longer eat that tube of Thin Mints without seeing your ass expand about an inch. Also, that inch now takes three long months of some serious exercise to shrink.

6.       You’re suddenly starting to wonder about what all these letters and numbers mean…IRA, 401K, W2, PERA, APR, APY, FDIC… People look at you like you’re a moron when you say “Um, como?” Going to need to find an app for that…

7.       You know that youthful glow you used to have? It’s now in a container labeled “Bronzer”.

8.       And finally, you get asked at least once per week when you are:  a. getting married b. starting a family or c. happy with your job.

To my fellow mid-20s friends, may we have many more things to celebrate in the next few years, but let’s wait a while before we start beginning sentences with “I remember when I was a kid and…”

Catholic Guilt

Nothing says Catholic guilt like the season of Lent. I consider myself to be recuperating from religion and have led myself to a path of personal spirituality, one that doesn’t involve church or pastors or people telling you that you are wrong. However, when Lent rolls around again, something inside me stirs and signals that I must make a commitment to give something up for the next 40 days and 40 nights. I guess I like the idea of it, you know, making a sacrifice for the better good. And I try to give something else that will make me a better person too. In the past I have abstained from:

·         Drinking coffee (Only made it 5 days…it was awful, won’t try that again)

·         My Nsync CD (you’re only 13 once)

·         Sweets

·         Shopping

·         Sweets

Yes, I realize sweets are on there twice, but they are extremely challenging for me. I could be like my boyfriend who gives up climbing trees every year (roll eyes). Or my dad who gives up things like watermelon or washing dishes. Yet something has been tattooed into my mind that says this is serious. Believe me, I cursed it as I looked at a cupcake today and thought, “I hate Lent, I don’t even go to church, and now I can’t have sweets either!” Grrr. Well, I guess I only have 28 days left to go so I better make the best of it, and hopefully I can break a bad habit as well. Good luck to the rest of you Lent-ers! Amen.