december 9

happy weekend

Thanks to my in-laws, I will not have to go to our new business pitch tomorrow naked. They sent us $150 for Christmas yesterday and thus, we went shopping. I have been suffering from a severe lack of professional attire recently—no pants (except for by brown, brocade, boot-cut “rock star” pants), only one black knit skirt from 1996, and khakis that have had a big, black smudge on the left thigh for months. When I don’t have meetings, I’ll wear whatever. I don’t feel good about it, but fortunately for me, people in Portland dress for shit, and it’s not like I stand out or anything. But now that I have to start getting in front of people again, I have to have something grown-up to wear.

Someday, I really will learn to sew. I just don’t have a free second these days. And we’re so fucking broke I can barely sleep at night. So, for now, I’m forced to go buy basic black and grey pants at Mervyn’s. (And a nice, black London Fog raincoat with a waist belt. It looks a lot better than the shiny silver thing with the ripped collar I’ve been wearing for the last two years.) I’ll at least look crisp and clean for our pitch. Chic and sophisticated will have to be put off for a little while longer.

The best thing about shopping yesterday was that I got to hang out with A* all day long. I am so lucky in that I have a husband who loves to shop. He will give me his honest opinion about fit and color (which saved me from buying several bad sweaters out of desperation) and go grab sizes for me. He even found the one and only rack of pants that had petite sizes so that I didn’t have to buy regular pants and wear them with impossible heels so the hems wouldn’t drag on the ground. (Never mind that the 17-year-old sales girls told me that the petites were too short; I guess dragging hems are all the rage in East Portland.) Even though it took me four hours to find two pairs of pants, a sparkly shirt for holiday parties, and a rain coat, A* never complained once and occupied his down time (when I was in the dressing room) by playing Solitaire on my Palm. Such a sweetie.

After our shopping excursion, we rented Memento at Hollywood Video and picked up a pepperoni pizza from the Papa Murphy’s next door. The movie was fabulous, and since I know I’m the last person to see it I won’t describe it. But it did fuck with my sense of time and I went to bed all riddled with anxiety and paranoia and had a bad attack of sleep paralysis. I kept thinking I was telling Aaron that I was hearing voices calling me from the closet (which I was) and asking him to hold me, but I wasn’t actually saying anything. Every few minutes I would break out of it and actually tell him I was hallucinating, but he just mumbled and went back to sleep. It sucked. But at least I don’t actually see things when I have these attacks like she does.

Oh! I almost forgot the best part of the weekend. A* and I got off our asses and walked about 45 minutes at a good clip to an independent produce store that we pass on the bus to work. It was fabulous—beautiful baskets of fresh apples, real sugar cane, lots of staples for Mexican dishes, and, my favorite, coconut macaroons. Yum! The walk to the market was lovely--kids roller-blading, guys walking their new puppies (we saw several), Peninsula Park and it’s kick-ass play structure (we never see these things because we don’t have kids) and all sorts of other neighborhood “color, “ if which, up here in the ‘hood, there is much. It felt good to get some exercise and to connect with the people around me, or at least see them. I spend so much time downtown and stay close to my own street that I miss a lot of the texture of North Portland.

And now, after a morning of raking leaves, I’m off to work to take care of a million things including the last details of this pitch. Wish us luck tomorrow.

- december 9