On a boat.

This last weekend was one of those strong cups of tea for the tired soul. It was, in a word, revitalizing - full of vim and vigor if you will. The slog of my daily routine sometimes makes me tired, not of what I do, because I love what I do and I love what I'm learning, but of the uniformity of it all. I've become very good at scheduling this last month or so, and I've scheduled my life away in neat colored blocks that make my outlook calendar pretty and me feel like a productive, effective person. I'm not the kind of person that does well in neat colored blocks. It makes me feel claustrophobic, like my sense of adventure is being stifled. No, I need color, yes, a few blocks even, but I need splatters and swirls and room to run and space for God to surprise me. How will he do this if I've predetermined every moment of my day?

This weekend was such a splash of yellow and blue on a frame of mind that was getting a tad bit pale and lackluster. On Friday I went running in the rain - an exceedingly refreshing undertaking once you've committed to getting a little damp - and then was whisked off in a big truck to a gala on the arm of a very attractive man.

One Days Wages did a phenomenal job putting the event together and are well worth checking out. (http://www.onedayswages.org/)

Markus and I had a pretty solid time tucking away h'ordeuvres and watching the milling conversation get increasingly more lusty and enthusiastic as people generously downed one for the cause.

There is only so far little sandwiches will get one however and what better thing to fortify one's ailing stomach than masses of chocolate, I ask you? Nothing, is the age old truth.

Masses of chocolate were duly consumed. Sarah's family was in town and we headed for chunks-ville with gusto, sat around dimly lit tables at Dillettante and made merry. Also genois is french for sponge cake, should the question ever come up. Moreover, a good chocolate genois is a laudable thing, never to be taken lightly.

Saturday was beautifully relaxing with nothing to do besides bake a freight of cookies, schlup around in my furry slippers and double date with Chris and Sarah. Not feeling particularly motivated, we decided on pizza (which ended up being a little bit more involved than anticipated owing the fact that I accidently locked our oven down for the better part of four hours) and scrabble. Scrabs was a show down and this girl and her fading boo were so solidly defeated that the only hope of regaining at least some frail semblance of dignity is a rematch...after I've done some substantial scrabble research.

And then we ran away on a boat. Kind of. We had to go get Markus's car from his wonderful parents and so we tripped down to Port Orchard (after spending a lovely morning with Kelse and family) to go see them. Never has being on the open road felt so good. I got to have home made food and cuddle with the cat in front of the fire and drink in the view of the ocean.

And yes, then we went away on a boat. A ferry ride really, upon the ocean blue. We ran around the decks, sea breezes in our hair, looking at city lights in the distance and delighting in being so cold and so alive at the same time.

I love boats.

On the Tree House.

Sometimes I live in a cabin.

Sometimes I live in a ski chalet.

Sometimes I live in a charming wooden town house.

Yes, I live at 824 West Emerson Street, in a home that has fondly become known as the Tree House. It is charming and warm, full of wood trimming and plush carpet, and we can't quite decide what it most looks like.

But we do know that we love to cook ethnic food on a regular basis (thus far, we have had Ethiopian, Sri Lankan, Iraqi, Hungarian, Romanian, Thai and Italian...among others), we like to snuggle with our house boyfriend Shirkhan (He is a massive blanket that was a hand-me-down from Tasha's grandma - fondly known as Boona - and has stolen all our hearts as well as the hearts of others. He is the reason some of our friends remain our friends.), and we like to do the crossword over tea and toast. We also drink many bottles of good man Charlie (thank you Trader Joe's), clink glasses over many a dinner party, and love, more than anything, that we have a home that people enjoy coming to.

Ps. I get my own room this year. This is an exciting new phenomenon and I don't think I'm ever going to get out of the honeymoon stage with it. I got to decorate how I've always wanted to decorate, I met my Snow-White desk and it was love at first sight, I have cream sheer curtains and windows that look out through the tops of branches onto our little street and trinkets from across the globe to help me never forget all the places I come from.

On Hallow-Scream

Dear readers, let me tell you, I am not a huge fan of scary things. Or things that make me afraid, or things that cause my emotional cheerfulness to dwindle or sense of control to be debunked. In fact, I flee from these things much like squirrels scamper from oncoming traffic. I have watched a grand total of two and a half poorly filmed, awfully directed and even more awfully acted horror movies and I have no immediate plans to expand that repertoire. So naturally it fell upon me to chair what turned out to be our first colossal event: Hallow Scream - The Curse of the Library.

"How many people do you think we'll have Steph?"

"Oh I dunno...200, 300 maybe..."

Being a first time event and all that, my co-chair person Trevor White and I were feeling confident in our ideas and co-leading ability, which was a plus as this nicely balanced out our feelings about the actual event itself - "foggy" is the word that comes to mind.

Turns out t'was a roaring success (imagine a nonchalant wave of the hand, maybe a cigarette in the other).

We had epic guides.

We had forty five of SPU's most talented and brave actors be ghouls and ghosts and beasts of all shapes and sizes at various levels of disgusting.

We had a line that went up stairs, past cafeterias, up hills and past residence halls.

We had to turn about four to five hundred people away after letting in about, what I guesstimated to be about eight hundred shrieking, screaming, yowling individuals.

There was no serious damage, clean up was a bz but got done in due time with no temper combustion, no broken necks, no broken friendships. Never has a chair been so proud!

Yes it was dressy weekend in general.

This whole shindig was quickly followed by Saturday night, during which Al and I decided to dress up as mice...naturally to complete herd that was begun by Stephan and Clint who were a coon and a sheep respectively. Our little pack moved to party the night away (party animals that we were) with superman, Adam and Eve, a cumolonimbus cloud, several loofas and the big bad wolf complete in it's grandma gear.

All encompassing, it was a hallow-f a time.

Ps. and Tommy was a president. Naturally.