the last of the best friends from home got married in portland this weekend, and the event was all grey sky and vintage dresses. the vows brought me to tears, especially the last line that said "whenever i think of you, i will feel a twinge of surprised delight that i found you"

jana, the 10 year old cousin, and the wedding officiant and i busted serious moves on the dance floor, surrounded by floaty champagne filled friends and family. i had the same old coming home hangover feeling...that the weekend was something dreamt, that i can't quite remember all the details, that things here have harder edges and louder sounds.

i'm headed to portland to witness the last of the high school best friends wedding. it makes me officially The Single Friend, but i'm bored with being worried or sad or embarrassed about that.

i'm instead embracing all The Single Friend duties, including, but not limited to:
- look smoking at the wedding.
- make phallic looking appetizers for the bachlorette party.
- drink dirty martinis.
- buy the bride really expensive, really hot lingerie.
- kiss up on single boys at the wedding.

i'm 100% confident that i can perform my duties well. i'll let you know.

(oh yes)
i went on some more blind dates. one (in fact) i found interesting and smart, though admittedly mildly douche-y. we drank wine, and he spoke quip-y and fast, and i spoke slow and silly and we laughed and ha ha! a person my age who is together and ambitious and kind! whhhhhha?

oh yes, and then we met to go dancing, and he made out with every girl on the dance floor except me, and i remembered "first impression was douche-a-roo. guess you know more than you think you do. "

**

work has been all WHEE-OOO-WHEE-OOO CRAZY WORK SIREN, and the big (capital E!) Event was yesterday and it went well, and people loved it, and my! job! was! done!

but i still woke up at 4 am last night, worried about what's ahead. is this perpetual? vacation next week, and whew.

**

my sister is pregnant. exploding anticipation, love, and all of the warm fizzie fuzzies. baby baby sissy love.

holy hell. look what i bought (!).

oh jeez everything here in atlanta is screaming HEAT ADVISORY and IT'S TOO SMOGGY TO BREATHE and HOTTEST DAY OF THE WHOLE HISTORY OF THE WORLD and yes, when i go outside i think Aww fuck, my legs are tingling, but mostly i'm just sitting inside, ac at 69 degrees, so happy happy for this forced vacation.

it's not silly, or funny, but i was struck today about why i keep coming back to exercising. it really has little to do with how i look, because apparently i'm just supposed to weigh this much, and no matter what i do, how little i eat, how much i drink, how fat i feel, it's the same. It's been this way for a good year now, and while most days i think 'hooray curvy strong body!' i also sometimes think 'sweet jesus i will never be a small girl' and it sort of gets me blue. but that blue-ness, that's not why i exercise.


i haven't posted it here, but i've got some ick-ick neurological thing, and the docs are saying it could get worse, and worse looks like a wheelchair, and maybe a blind cane. it used to make me mad, and now it just makes me think. some days i exercise because i can, and i maybe won't be able to tomorrow, but most days that's not why i exercise.


i did my first triathlon in may, and it was the most satisfying experience i've ever had. no creative experience, or moment in a relationship, or journey has made me feel so capable. i trained alone, and competed alone, and beat even my secret goal, the one that was 10 minutes less than what i told everyone my goal was. i got to swim in a big cold lake, and bike up big hills, and run beside big trees. and i totally didn't suck. i didn't win, but i didn't even come close to sucking.


i exercise because it brings me back to myself. i can't think petty thoughts when i'm trying catch my breath. i can't miss anyone when i feel like i'm about to hurl. i can't worry about what i'll say on the phone when i'm watching the stopwatch. back in the water, back on the bike, back on the trail. i'm better there.

So I tried to go on a blind date on Saturday.

This is less extraordinary than it would be for most women—my new years resolution last year was to go on a blind date a week. I didn’t quite make it to 52 (I sort of dated some of the blind date boys for a few weeks here and there) but wasn’t that far behind either. Nonetheless, I’m not exactly a novice when it comes to blind dates.

That said, never, never have I been stood up on a blind date. That is, never until Saturday had I been stood up on a blind date.

I showed up at the pre-arranged time looking sassy but professional, fun but also a little business. We had agreed to meet at a tiny little bar by my house, a little dive-y and dark, and always full of drunk men.

Walking in, I didn’t see anyone that even vaguely matched the picture he had sent on. I scoped for a minute (remember, tiny bar) and then sat down at the bar and ordered a greyhound. As soon as I did, the bartender asked if I was Kathrine or something, and I said, yeah, sorta, and he asked if I was meeting someone, and I said, I think so, and he said, Umm, no he called and asked me to give you his number. He’s not coming.

At this point I forget my sweet, blind date, small bar voice and exclaim ‘Am I getting stood up on a blind date?!?!’

Well, every dude in the place promptly turned around and started asking questions. How we got set up. How dare he. Can I buy you a drink. What’s your name. Can I buy you a drink as well.

I ended up leaving the bar feeling far lovely than any single man could have made me feel. It was divine.

new york and seattle were tricky, in the way that made 7 days feel like 50. i got home to my sweet clean, cold, empty home, and immediately crawled in bed and passed out for 5 hours. i woke up a few times with coughing fits, one so bad that i came close to puking. i'm trying to pull back into myself, in every way.

but it was also fun, and there were pretty dresses, expensive cocktails, little sleeping, much live music so so so very much love and fondness for the women in my life.

i'm off to seattle and nyc. i've got blank postcards and colored pencils, and i'm going to mail moses and theo (my favorite nearly 4 and nearly 2 year olds) a note each day, chronicling my trip. i already have high hopes of today's picture: me riding an airplane. yes, like bronco style. maybe i'll be lassoing a cloud.
i'll probably have to draw me getting drunk for tomorrow's picture. they'll like that.

It’s been a quiet few days again—especially so today, as the power was out at the office, and even with grants due on Friday I had to come back home, and rest, and wait.

Things are about to get a little nutty, which is always one of my favorite anticipations. I’m heading to seattle for a wedding of a high school friend, and then out to New York City for a few days with friends.

Both events are a little trickier than they seem—the wedding is really a ‘renewal of vows’ for a friend who married a girl to keep her in the country. I don’t know how much of it is love, and how much is just pragmatic, and if she’s really the one for my him. That said, I’m looking forward to seeing old friends, and dancing, and all of that fun. I’ve got a sassy pink dress, and gold shoes, and Seattle is always a good time.

New York is tricky in another way—a good friend’s mom is approaching death, and my friend isn’t able to talk about it, so I’m going to just sit with her, and silently hope for a peaceful passage. All the rest and quiet of the past few days seem to be preparing me for this, getting me ready to send healing to others, instead of needing to hoard it for my own getting though, my own daily pressings.

So bring on the planes, and the cocktails and 3 am and familiar faces. Can’t wait.

bonnaroo was all dirt and sulpher and sun. it was also my two favorite red heads, and red beans and rice, and dancing. a shirtless sting, big dirty fountain and hot rum were also bonnaroo. it was a short drive home, long sleepless nights, and black nostrils.

elvis says 'thumbs up bonnaroo'
we say 'THUMBS UP BONNAROO!'

so there was those two months where i was SO busy and creating a huge amazing-race scavenger hunt for work, and spending every thursday discussing how badly ellen pompeo needs a sandwich with those two really smart favorite friends, and 'dear god i have to do the dishes again?', oh and then i did that TRIATHLON (!), and my friend had a baby, and my grandmother got sick, and i went to chattanooga, and my other friend had a horrible few weeks at work and needed to talk and cry every night, and i didn't have time to kiss on any boys, much less BLOG because lordy i was only sleeping 7 hours a night and that, my friends, IS NOT ENOUGH.

and then.
may 20th hit.


and here i am, on a fucking FRIDAY NIGHT, and i think i've had TWO CONVERSATIONS this whole day, because all of a sudden i'm little miss isolationist with nothing to do and no one to see, and such a squeaky clean house and FULLY READ library and all this time to cook and read and watch old weeds episodes and i really want to sit outside but that guy got SHOT a few days ago right in front of my house and eek!... living alone is scary, and being alone is lonely.

(each summer in college i worked in a little town in new mexico and didn't know anyone and would get up late and get "ready" to go to the store, and then would be disappointed when going to the store just became about buying mac and cheese and vogue and not about running into someone and having them say "what an adorable dress! wanna go dancing tonight?")

and this week atlanta feels like that-- all this lonely, and all this effort to not be lonely, to be busy, to create, to do.

yesterday i was doing some bike riding at the gym for an upcoming, tbd hoohah, and realized that the old (at LEAST 60+) dude next to me was riding faster than me. so all 24 years of me got pissed and pedeled away, sweating and swearing and vowing to not let an old fart be faster than moi. we raced away, with me pulling ahead, and then him, with JT singing in my ears, and serious pit stains on my shirt.

when the dude got off his bike 8 MILES later, it became clear that even if I had pulled ahead in the final stretch he really won, as the dude had a PROSTHETIC LEG. for serious.

things that i had forgotten about, but recently remembered:

- that one time in pittsburgh when the homeless lady chased me around the library with a knife
- how much i love guacamole
- that montel is the worst show on tv
- a daily bath is the bomb
- babies smell bad sometimes
- how often i madeout in the movies in high school
- mom+dad=awesome
- if i'm outside, i'm happy
- rilo kiley is a pretty good life soundtrack

no, but seriously, the only things more stressful than moving is waking up on the morning you are supposed to move to find that your car has been towed, with your cell phone sitting in it's cup holder.

i'm just saying.

it was THAT (see above) kind of morning, quite explicitly that kind of morning, and i'm still reeling a bit. i've got a to-do list a mile long, but at the end of it, i'll be moved in to a sweet new home, with my own parking spot that i'll never be towed from. sigh.

13 things that make it stupid obivous the world is ending, or at least gone entirely mad:

1. i've eaten salad 3 times this week
2. with wind chill, it was 5 degrees today. in HOTlanta.
3. britney. fucking. spears'. head.
4. grey's anatomy sucked hard this week.
5. i been running three of the last 6 days.
6. one of those times was today. in the awesomely un-balmy weather.
7. i haven't been on a date in two weeks. okay, 10 days, but still. cra.zay.
8. my last paycheck was double what i was expecting.
9. i'm currently wearing long underwear under another shirt. i'm bringing back the seventh grade look BIG TIME.
10. i listened to an interview on npr today and thought "who is this brilliant, articulate man?" it was ralph nadar.
11. i've woken up for the fifth night in a row in my closet, in a panic, sure that someone is going to see me naked.*
12. i think i have fallen in love with jumping jacks.
13. i think i have fallen out of love with beyonce.


*i live alone, and no one is gonna see me naked anytime soon. (see #7)

dear boys,

thanks for the drinks. thanks for making me feel hot and funny and interesting and charming. thanks for giving me an excuse to buy the red polka dot dresses, and thanks for complimenting me on how i look it in. thanks for introducing me to the farmers market, to mjq, to ducati bikes, to front-row at turner field, to running, to tequila. thanks for re-introducing me to a charlie brown christmas. thanks for the apologies. thanks for calling two months later to say you missed me. thanks for not waiting to call. thanks for dancing with me without me having to ask. thanks for the free bed. thanks for the home cooked food, the hikes and the sweet voice mails. thanks for not letting me beat you at texas hold 'em. thanks for letting me beat you at pool. thanks for letting me take a few of you out for test runs, and then return you for a better model. thanks for letting me run a few of you into the ground. thanks for the ear kisses, forehead kisses, neck kisses and back of the knee kisses. thanks for letting me kiss you.

it's been a tricky few months, but i'm so glad you're here to keep me company, keep me humble and keep me laughing.

a warm and happy valentines day to all of you.
-leenie

my dad is coming to help me move. my dad is the bomb. not only is he the bomb at dressing as the angel of the lord (see above), he's also the best moving man you've ever met. he'll be here for 48 hours. Without a doubt, while here he will accomplish the following:
taking apart the bookshelf from hell, buy me a 'happy new home' plant, re-assemble the bookshelf from hell, move all of my crap while simultaneously saying "no problem, this is easy easy easy, no problem", take me on the grocery shopping extravaganza 2007, do my laundry, give me cold hard cash, go out and get me mexican food when i'm sitting in the middle of my new home in tears because geez, that picture just looks WRONG there, and finally, snore. loudly.

best. dad. ever.

nine sweet pieces of advice to myself on February 7th, 2007.
(Inspired by schnozz)


1. keep making an effort to look really fucking good. wear high heels more. rock the classy cleavage and the short(ish) skirts. you'll get laid more, and feel skinnier. both are really good things.

2. get really good at your jobs. take the accounting class. take the pilates certification. get really good at both, and then ask for more money from both companies. you're really good at the people side of them, get just as good at the expertise, technical side. it is feasible for you to run either of the companies in the next three years if you get focused and competitive. do it now.

3. do not give up on the men. the only thing worse than a single woman is a sniveling, jaded single woman. plow on, slog through the shitty, silly blind dates, and the sad, distant more-right-for-you boys. with any luck, you'll look back on this phase of your life as the most carefree, simple, sweet time.

4. go see dreamgirls. at the drive-in. with amy and elise.

5. move more, drink less. just cause you have a 'sweet in comparison to lots of peeps' body doesn't mean you shouldn't have 'SUPER RIDICULOUSLY sweet in comparison to lots of peeps' body. you are in your twenties. look hot NOW, before babies and full time computer jobs ruin your ass and gravity ruins your boobs.

6. start packing up boxes. now.

7. remember that one time that you talked to the therapist over christmas break and felt so much better and like you had a clear plan, you just had to do these two tasks? and you were going to take care of them in january because, sheeeeesh, THEN at least some life business would be cleared up and wouldn't that feel so GOOD?...
well, take care of those things. now. this week. being scared to deal isn't an excuse not to deal.

8. keep talking to ogy and hedu and manna. they knew you when you were fat and ugly and uninspired. they like you a lot.

9. remain vigilant about talking about what you like about your situation. you used to be good at this, and 2007 seems to stalled those efforts. they are a self fulfilling prophecy. get back to it. talk about the jobs and the dating and the new home and the sweet city and the new babies and the lovely friends and the general awesomeness of it. keep voicing it, and it will keep being true.

inspired by her: i thought, this is my life, this will have to do.


last night i swam, thought about how i'm not really a swimmer, certainly not like the swimmer next to me, hell, i don't even have a swim cap or goggles, good god i am not a swimmer why am i swimming.
the ladies showed up early for class, so i floated around and talked to them sitting on the side of the pool, and one of them brought up again how i should consider midwifery, and how she would love to hire me, and i think she thinks i wouldn't lose my mind out of sheer 'holy shit-ness' if i delivered an actual living baby. the class started, and we giggled like usual, and laughed at how there are babies in all of them, but they are all such different moms already. one has shoes to match every outfit, and one hasn't bought a single thing. they are both going to be good moms, but last night we just laughed at how that is possible.
i then made my weekly amy/ken rounds to drink wine and watch greys and talk during the commercials. we talked about my boy of the month (s), and her little sons, and how boys are boys, 3-30. she had dinner ready for me again, and told me stories about her meeting ken and falling in love and we poured white wine into our red wine glasses to make rose. she listened to my s fears, and as i walked out of the door she had me laughing loud at my own silliness, and inablity to deal.
i went on a late night blind date after that-- he was all muscles and long pauses and stares and wanted me to have another drink, or maybe go somewhere else, and i was all 'maybe this could work, but only for a night' but refused the drink, and the offer of a new location, and came home to a text from him that i answered with an 'i don't think we should see each other again' email.
i'm still unsure about s, and he's spending the weekend with boys, and with mourning, and i today i want to ask him to just call my in three months when things have settled, and he has settled so we can see then. new things are hard.
this morning i taught class, and then sat in the nicu with a new mom and her freshy twins and freshy worry. i missed my mom.

yesyes-- i thought, this is my life, this will have to do.