It's too early for morning

I woke up to a delightful banging noise directly below my head.

Was it a robber?  A hangover?  A family of tiny raccoons living in my pillowcase?

Sadly, none of these.

(A robber probably would've been quieter, I drink more hot chocolate than anything these days and the raccoons would've been cute, at least.)

The electrician our landlord hired to to work on our basement came over at 8am on a Saturday.  ON A SATURDAY.

I'm actually not a super late sleeper.  Usually, I'm happy to arise at a respectable 9:30am (I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that I am a student and we reserve the right to keep weird hours, eat Chinese food at 4am and maintain questionable hygiene during finals weeks).

So, while 8am isn't that far off from when I normally get up, it's too early to have hammer noises assault my dreams and stop my heart.  ON A SATURDAY.

Naturally, I was very crabby.  I stomped around the kitchen T-Rex style (I learned this from Christina), making coffee and muttering profanities under my breath, when there was a knock at the door.

Lo' and behold, it was our electrician, Rick.

Rick wanted to show me what he'd done in the basement.  Because he was so damn pleasant, I attempted to match his tone and leave my snarkiness in the kitchen.

As he showed me all the new lighting, outlets and switches he'd installed, I found my irritation weakening.  I attempted to make conversation as he showed me the fuses he'd replaced.  After one sentence came out of my mouth, he looked at me oddly.  This was part of our exchange:

Rick:  Are you from Oregon, too?
Sara: Oh, haha.  No, I'm from Indiana.
Rick: Ahh, I talked to your roommate from Oregon.  You sound similar.
Sara:  Yeah, I know I don't sound like a local.
Rick: You can't be more than 20 (not sure where this came from).
Sara: Actually, I'm 24 but I get that a lot.
Rick: Oh my goodness.


Between my accent and my age, I was pretty damn amused.  By the time I had thanked him and gotten back in the house, I was in a far better mood.

I swear, there are some days when this town makes me so angry that I want to stab it in the eye with a salad fork.  Then, there are other days when I find it to be lovely and charming and just overflowing with Americana.

It's snowing outside and I just washed all the forks, so I might be leaning toward the latter today...

...but the day is still young, and I might have to go to Walmart later.

The things we do for blogs

I'm a giver.

Know how I know?

Only someone truly committed to giving back would whip out her camera, while in line for food, to get proof of this:




It's not that I mind leggings. In fact, if I had better legs (hers, for example), I'd probably live in them.

I don't really mind leg warmers, to be honest. Okay, I think they're a little dumb if you're not a dancer or just really interested in personal leg warmth, but they're pretty inoffensive.

I don't even mind a black, chunky clog. Though not the most fashionable type of footwear, they're generally quite comfy and go with everything.

However, when you slap it all together and take it to Panera, I will neglect my Frontega every time to snap a photo of that deal.

In other news, my research final is in 3 hours.

I haven't started studying yet, but think I might.

You know, later.

Not now, arctic puffin!

My intended profession as a marriage and family therapist is a relatively new one. The need for such services, however, is growing and that is encouraging to me.

What is not encouraging, and in fact makes me want to get straight up biblical with an Oreo McFlurry, is the fact that the licensing laws are different in every single pissing state.

Most people would say, "Big deal. So get licensed in another state," to which I would respond with a gracious invitation to get bent.

The reason this is bothering me is that I feel like I need to figure out where I'm going to live/practice pretty darn soon.

I've decided to create a spreadsheet (you heard me) to try and keep the requirements straight.

For example, in some states, you need 1,500 hours of supervision and 2,000 hours of direct client contact. In others, you only need 500 hours of supervision and 200 hours of client contact. In one state, you need 3,000 hours of supervision, 1,500 hours of client contact, to sacrifice your first-born to the sun god Ra and to only eat pine nuts on the 3rd Wednesday of every other month while watching Wings reruns (and I'll let you guess which state).

And even then, it just ain't that straight-forward.

So, my plan is to choose the states I think I'm most likely to make my permanent home after graduation and weigh their pros and cons.

Here goes (and please don't be offended if I don't mention your state because there are some I prefer to loathe from a distance):

Illinois (Chicago or a suburb of)

• Closer to my family - P
  
• Closer to my baseball team - P
  
• I have many good friends in the Chicago area - P
• I hate their weather like a WalMart that only sells mayonnaise and Funyuns - C
• Whole mess of music/arts/cultural events - P
• No Chick-Fil-A that I know of
  
• Live closer to an airport - P
  
• Live further from fresh seafood - C

Indiana

• Lived here most of my life - P/C
• Closer to my family - P
• Harder to be successful in a small town and that's most of Indiana - C
• Back in the land of show choir and marching band! - P
• I already know where the Chick-Fil-As are - P
  

New York

• Unless I've grossly misinterpreted the law, it appears to be less complicated to get licensed here - P
• I have a lot of friends in NYC - P
  
• Butt-load of music/arts/cultural opportunities nearby - P
  
• Pretty damn expensive to live in the city - C
• The taxes are lower in Scarsdale, according to Ross from Friends - P

North Carolina

• Well, I'm already here, so... - P
• Good friends live in Winston - P
  
• I hear nice things about Asheville? - P
• While I like NC, I can't say I see myself living here long-term - C

Oregon (perhaps Portland or Eugene)

• Interested in the Pacific NW - P
• Surrounded by nature - P/C
• Crunchier, more granola environment that I enjoy - P
• I will most likely be the chunkiest person there - C
• Rains a whole damn lot - P/C
• I saw this episode of No Reservations when Anthony Bourdain visited this awesome looking doughnut shop in Portland, and I really want to go there! - P
  

Washington

• Looks pretty good in Sleepless In Seattle

If you would like to nominate your state/city as a possible location for me to move, let me know where and why it's such a great place to live!

Or, if you would like to steer me away from a previously mentioned state/city, shout it out. I love me some strong opinions, especially those founded on food or television.

*States with large bugs/lizards need not apply

Road trip edition

On Thursday, I drove from North Carolina to northern Ohio to visit my lovely friends, Cara and Mike.

I drove through 5 states in 7 hours.

Here's what I learned:

The mountains in NC are gorgeous in the Fall, but all that fog makes my ass twitch.



Tennessee looks a lot like NC and people seem to think headlights are superfluous when it is overcast and raining.

Radar detectors are illegal in Virginia. Bummer.




West Virginia is a lot bigger than it looks, and most was unnecessary.

Ohio doesn't look as much like Indiana as I'd hoped.

I actually made pretty excellent time getting to Ohio. It would've been outstanding, but Louise and I got into a fight around Canton and I had to pull over so we could throw down.

Tomorrow, I head back to the High Country of North Carolina. Even though I love my friends and the Midwest in general, I'm happy to get back to Boone and the 29 degree weather that surely awaits me.

29 degrees.



Ass.

Snob alert

Last Friday, I did something I had never done before.

I went to the Indiana State Fair.

Feast your eyes. And then, go eat a salad.

Yeah, this is old news by now.

That's just a waste of perfectly good pizza.

What makes this really gross is that this stand was right in front of the pig barn.

That's a giant pile of poo.

Do you smell that? It smells like...... America!

I went to the Netherlands? Weird... Wait, I went to CHINA???

I'm sitting here, butt planted on the couch, face full of Quaker Instant Oatmeal (cinnamon and spice, thank you) and watching DVRed episodes of some of my favorite shows (Chuck, Pushing Daisies, Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders: Making the Team 3). It's like I never left.

Yesterday was my first full day back. I awoke at the respectable hour of 8:30am and my dad, bless his heart, made me blueberry pancakes. The next course of action, naturally, was to visit my old friend SuperTarget. And wouldn't you know it? SuperTarget greeted me warmly and showed me an aubergine sweater it thought I would like.





The next thing needing to be taken care of is, of course, my hair. It has not been cut or trimmed in over 3 months. It's starting to look like a Border Collie (let's name him Clancy) that ran through the sprinklers, rolled around in dried leaves and then took a nap in the sun.

I now have to make the all-important decision...

Cut it or let it grow?

I have until Wednesday to decide, so naturally I won't be able to do anything else until then.

I've also lost my ability to multi-task. When I was walking the sainted aisles of the ST yesterday, I was using my American cell phone to talk to my wondrous American friend, Cara. While I was talking to her, I found that I started putting things in my cart for which I had no need.

However, when I made a real effort to focus on the items I actually needed, I found I couldn't put a coherent sentence together for Cara. I thought I managed to sort through most of it, but in the end, I bought a cup of vanilla yogurt that I had no intention of eating because I was too embarrassed to put it back.

And now, I need to take American shower in the American bathroom.