Tuesday, January 31, 2012

A Post on Throwing Up

I have a tendency to post the joyous little bits of life. That's what I want to remember. I also figure that's what folks might have a semi-interest in. But if I did write about the gross parts of life, it would look like this:

Pan next to the pillow? You know what that means.

Growing up, I had an acute phobia of throwing up. Whenever anyone would even cough with brief violence, I would cower in fear that more than just air and mucus would be on the move.

I had over a 13 year vomiting hiatus.

And then, last year, oh goodness, I could not control my stomach.

That's when I learned it wasn't so bad. Now I understand that throwing up means you'll feel better than you felt before.

Once again, last night, I felt nauseous to the extreme. That nausea where, once it hits, you feel like you're racing to get to bed because all you want to do is curl up into a ball. The worst is when you wake up and still feel miserable. That's when I usually realize that I'm going to be spending some quality time with the porcelain throne.

At 1:32 AM, I woke up. Still felt ill. Realized what was going to happen and wasn't pleased. I headed for the bathroom and grabbed any hair tie I could find as the clock kept ticking towards the time where I would be hopelessly down on my knees. The hair tie was woven into a necklace and both were used to pull my hair back.

I turned the lights on.
And went and turned them off again.


And then my body did its thing... and I felt a whole lot better.

That's the beautiful thing! Throwing up makes you feel like a champion!

I felt horrible, but I called my mom over because I really wanted some water to get rid of the taste, but didn't feel as if it were safe to get it myself. She is a wonderful lady.

The other thing is I hate being alone in misery in the bathroom. She is so incredible! She stood by the doorway and talked to me a bit before heading back to bed.

I was in bed by 1:57 AM and felt a lot better.

This morning, I felt drained but not too miserable. I just called my sociology professor to see if I could get excused for today. He said that was definitely ok and that I should rest up, maybe take in some of the sunshine too.

And that is what happens when I blog about things that no one wants to read about.
"What the *interjection* Mägi! Why did you just write this?"

Update: Apparently when you throw up, sometimes the blood vessels in your face break and you get a splotchy face that doesn't go away for a wee bit.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

7 Years Worth of Photographs of January 28th

I've been documenting my life for 6-7 years now. I decided to take a linear look at the passing time.

14 Years old
8th Grade

These shots were taken as I was putting together my History Day display on hobos. At this point, I was the Hobo Girl (and managed to become a story retold to future passing classes). I spent my research time emailing with hobos currently living the life (library computers were their internet source) or settled down into the status as a honourary hobo.

My computer desktop picture was a highly over-edited image of Jenny Porter sitting, writing in her journal in the Dominican Republic. 

At that point, I was really into Post-It notes.

I only had two faces.

For a short period of time, my camera was malfunctioning. I grabbed these shots, making the most of what I thought would be an unfortunate situation.

15 Years Old
9th Grade

It was Colour Day at my junior high. Each grade was assigned a different colour. Naturally, we had pink. We played ¿Quién es Quién? in our clase de español and it looks like ensembles were performed in orchestra.

Yes. These were the awkward years.

16 Years Old
Sophomore Year

A destroyed gingerbread house and turkey crafting nights for Gidol made up my life outside of school on this day. It was a pretty typical school day, English and History were documented. After school, the Key club got together to make valentines for... probably for soldiers.

Oh Maia! I was babysitting Maia, at this point, two to four hours a week. She would've been two years old, at this point. It was definitely a day for dancing and the Aquadoodle.

17 Years Old
Junior Year

This was my year abroad in Switzerland. Definitely one of the finest years I've had. Sergio (Dad), Ana, Jorge (Big Brother) and I went up to Melchsee-Frutt for a day of skiing and snowboarding. I got to spend a lot of time up there, sometimes for a week at a time, because my family owned a cabin/chalet at the top.

Post Melchsee-Frutt day called for hot chocolate and the bus ride back to Sachseln.

18 Years Old
Senior Year

Finally, the last year of high school. Days started with Dutch Babies, preparing to be at school by 7:00 AM. This was one of my first times, this year, to take the bus home after school and walk up with the Hill-Crew. I was just starting to get to know Charlotte, Sean, Katie, and Julia who were all a year or two younger than I. Where are we all now? Harvard. Washington State University. University of Washington. University of Puget Sound. And then my school.

Still an avid square dancer, Wednesday nights were spent with the Shirts-n-Skirts.

19 Years Old

Kurt had given me a slackline and I wasn't sure how to set it up, nor did I have the strength to do it on my own. Brendan and I met up at the junior high, figured it out, and he was quick to pick it up. Me, on the other hand? I managed to twist my ankle.

20 Years Old

I went to a rally at the state capital in Olympia against budget cuts in education. I was thrilled to see two of my favourite people there, Monica and Joelle.

I wonder what will happen January 28, 2012?

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Value Village and the Employee Who Followed Me Around and Gave Me $5

The always sky seems to open up and pour its guts out on me right as I am about to leave home to catch that bulky bus that promises to carry me to the mysterious land of school.

This is a trend I've noticed lately. And, this morning, for once I simply wasn't in the mood to board the bus as a soggy child. I packed for the next 29 hours and hopped in the automobile to accompany my mom to her work where I could catch an alternative bus that wouldn't require a mile of damp trenching (I promise you, normally, me and the rain are fully and compatibly in love - I know what city I'm from).

She dropped me off right next to...

Bus stop.
Value Village.
Value Village.
Bus stop.

They were right next to each other. I had over two hours until my classes began and I decided to make my way over to the store that always guarantees the widest, wildest pattern, colour, era, and textile selection than any other store I've dropped my money into.

I grabbed the rolling basket and head to the far southern corner to where the ladies vests were.

Walking down the back of the store, the twenty-year-old employee wished me a wonderful day and I returned the wishings to him.

Half-way through the vest rack, I managed to spot the green twin vest of the maroon vest belong to Ethan of the Retrospectacles. Olive green. Black corduroy yolks. Nothing beats a solid yoke, yo. Vest with mirrors. Tweed vest. Leather vest.

During my attempts at discovering the perfect twirly dress, he came back and pardoned himself as he put back some items. He apologized for interrupting my important shopping time and that's when the conversations started....

and continued to go on for the next hour at the store.

I would leave for another part of the store and he just sort of followed behind. No, not sort of. He did follow. Scarves, sheets, fish bowls. He was always one step behind me.

We bantered back and forth and I continued to shop.

I learned that, apparently, I am interesting, funny, cute, exciting, etc. I would make a comment. He would engage in conversation and then throw in a complement and inform me that, as a Native American, he was capable of projecting images into my brain. I promise you, he was not hitting on me. We discussed that. The other employees discussed that.

He would remember an item and we would both sprint through the store to look at it, my rolling basket nearly careening as I dodged poles and flew around corners.

His lunch break came and asked if I'd like to take it with him. I said I had to finish up and go to school. He said he would see soon me after break... and then he came out with his lunch and proceeded to hang out with me as my search for the perfect garments continued. It was in the sweater section that his sandwich was assembled and consumed in the long sleeved knits.

It was clear he wasn't going anywhere and, quite frankly, I enjoyed his company and love laughing with others.

I ended up taking home the four items on the right.
Around 11:52 AM, it was time for me to try on my finds and he had to clock back in. I tried on everything I had acquired, selected four items, and went to the cash register. He ran up and did a double stop right next to me and I showed him the final selection. He approved of each item and I asked about his employee discount.

"If only you had asked me when I was at lunch, then I could've. Wait! Come with me!"

We ran, again, through the store at full pace and he pulled out his wallet and gave me $5.

"There's the employee discount."

I gave him a hug and, for some reason, took the money, bought my things, and headed out.
Ahhhh --- please don't judge to heavily on the fact that I actually took the money. I have a habit of taking money without hesitation when people offer it.

That store never disappoints.

Milo's Rad Innovations and Creations

My friend Milo Van Valkenburgh is an incredible artist and inventor.

He puts together these wonderful, these wonderful somethings out of random parts and the results are worth taking a look at.

His work is functional.

These are shots of the work from the gallery in the library.

I didn't capture everything, but he's made a whole lot more. He made a working blowdart cane (some of the blowdarts are made out of ear plugs). He made a fake arm with a functional "pinchers." I saw him use this for an entire afternoon back in 2011. Milo is the creator of my favourite slug spoon (which I lost at Folklife - but he told me he made me a new one!). He also made me one of my favourite widgets I play with during class.

Extremely effective magnification.

I like this one. Flip up... I'm not sure what it's called. But the chain attaches to your finger and when you pull it, the spoon flips up to reveal a watch. This is a watch that he already wears, but he made it so he could attach it at will.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Back Up North :: Pasta, Whirls, and Jam

Yes. Yes I have missed Canada a bit this past month.

29 days after leaving, a return was managed.

The reason?

The invigorating world of contra, of course. Specifically, this was a celebration of Emily's birthday.

Not having a car can have quite the effect on making plans. You're limited to the plans of others (or convincing them to go along with your plan) or forking over the cash for a ticket ($60 for a a roundtrip train ticket).

I was knee deep in Craigslist rideshare ads when word came in that Derek was heading up ("I'm planning on coming up from Seattle. Magi I'd be happy to drive you.") for the same event. I celebrated. I clapped my hands.

2:30 PM - Departure on Saturday from Seattle.
5:30 PM - Arrival in Vancouver with an hour to spare. We wandered Gastown. It was a time to discover that it really wasn't as creepy as I had remembered it to be from a high school experience.

6:45 PM - Group gathering for pasta consumption. Bucky balls. Face paints. Split plate of rice noodles with browned butter and mizithra cheese. Culture books. Engaging conversation.

I'd say I was in some of the finest of company.

As usual, contra did not let me down.
Does it ever?

Dessert at True Confections, where Keegan works.

Tammy made us delightful, wonderful waffles. I felt very satisfied.

Breakfast jam. Both the noun and verb jam.

Leftover pasta. Not sure who's.
Watching Derek consume it straight from the dish while driving was amusing.

Scotty eats sideways.

Gifts of little importance for an important Emily.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

London From Bottom To Top Is Up

Good morning!

Yes. I am a morning person through and through. Through and through enough that, even though my day doesn't have to start until 10:30 AM or so (school starts at 12:30 PM), I got up at 7:10 AM to have enough time to putter around the kitchen and twirl around the bedroom.

Breakfast this morning?
Roasted vegetables.
Chia seeds.
Green tea.

Vegetables is my meal of the day. It's my dinner. And dinner is my breakfast (for dinner last night I had cooked spinach with a cup of goat's milk yogurt). This is the meal where I eat the most.

If you've followed this blog for any amount of time, you would likely already know how devoted I am to the roasted vegetable. And then I went to L'Abri for three months and forgot the magic, for a wee bit, until Kyle came and reintroduced me.

Roasted vegetables for dinner.
Roasted vegetables for breakfast.
Roasted vegetables for lunch.

And then popcorn.

Now popcorn has something of a bad rep since the world deemed it correct to smother it in crazy butter sauce. Take away the butter sauce and salt and you're left with a whole grain with fiber, B vitamins, magnesium, phosphorus, iron, zinc, and manganese (only a bit of these, but it's something). Only 30 calories per cup of the popped stuff.

My favourite popcorn topping is from the Curvy Carrot. I have adapted the recipe and don't pop my popcorn in coconut oil (I'm an air-poppin' kind of kid) but I do add coconut oil once the popcorn is popped. Coconut oil is crazy good stuff! To the oiled up corn I add cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, allspice, and sea salt. Oi. So tasty!

And I'm up and awake! I can listen to lectures while cooking and stretch and wiggle pre and post-meal.

Last night was wonderful. I got to make music with my Gaelic music group, again.

When I got back, all my electronics (electronics before bed = disaster and poor sleep) were put away except for my CD player. I popped in a classical CD (Gymnopédies, No. 1 is a favourite) and did that thing that I do... that thing where I wiggle and stretch and pull my legs around and bend and point. That took up a good 50 minutes of time and I was ready to crawl into bed and read Little Lord Fauntleroy (by the same authors as Secret Garden and a Little Princess).

Lights out at 10:33 PM.
Asleep by 11:10 PM.
Up and at 'em 8 hours later.

I'm ready for you, Tuesday.

The post title is a reference to Eloise at the Plaza. Ready to see Julie Andrews at her finest as Nanny?

Monday, January 23, 2012

Running Into Folks In Vancouver -- It's a Habit

If you know me well, you might know that I have a tendency to run into people I know with frequency.

I tested this out in Vancouver (where I only know a small handful of folks) at the library back in September. I sat down on a bench, and before I could finish my first sandwich, by walked Miguel, a boy I had back in Switzerland in 2007.

Post-contra, the Emily corralled the crew to a dessert restaurant on Broadway as the final touch to her birthday celebration. As we walked down the street, things started to look familiar.

"This is, this is where my friend works.... Wait! We're going to a dessert restaurant?! I think that's where Keegan works!" I exclaimed while running up and down the streets with a bag of potatoes, distributing them in gardens and bike baskets.

Upon reaching Broadway and Alma, I sprinted towards the restaurant! That was Keegan's restaurant!

Of all the hundreds of restaurants in the city of Vancouver, we went to the one where a mate of mine works. I find that to be ridiculous

I ran in, looked around, and spotted the good sir and rejoiced!
So good to see Keegan again!

Saturday, January 21, 2012

The Dangers of Drinking Pop vs. Hitchhiking.

It was a family shopping trip (sort of) and I was all set with spinach, kefir, and coconut water. For the third time, I had lost my family (the parentals kept scattering each time I took a moment to compare the cost per pint of a product) and was wandering the aisles looking for them.

Then, there they were in the chip and pop aisle.
The aisle of evil!

I'll be frank with you - I hate pop. Out of all the research I've done on it, it's vicious evil stuff that will destroy you! A bit of an overreaction, yes, but I still feel passionate about folks not drinking pop. If you want some fizz, grab some kombucha.

And there they were, getting four HUGE things of it.
(yes, I acknowledge they don't guzzle it - but to me that's irrelevant in this situation where I feel none of that stuff should pass your lips)

And I love these people so much. I don't want them drinking that crap.

I begged them not to buy it. I pleaded. I reasoned.
I got wound up.
They got wound up.

Midst the mid-aisle debate, they justified drinking pop by saying...

I do dangerous things too - like hitchhiking. How can I say they shouldn't drink pop when I hitchhike?

It was along those lines.

I want to sneak out at night, to their stash (we don't keep it in the house), and pour it all out.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Post-Contra High

Post-contra, everyone seems to be giddy from their metatarsal bones to their coronal suture.

After three hours of dancing, the endorphins are flowing free and I find it impossible to feel anything but joy.

The contra-high can run a bit long, some nights, keeping me from sleeping as my brain replays the twirls and grins of the night.

It's nice to have that guarantee, each week. It's convenient to know that each Friday, at 10:42 PM, life will be swell and all will be well.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

The Face of a Three Year Old When the Music Continues

My favourite little man (well, one of them) and I do so like our classical music. It's our Friday soundtrack as we putter around through the day at speeds we deem reasonable.

This Friday was all the same, at 7:32 AM, on went King 98.1 (the station I wake up to every morning, go listen to it online, I recommend the Evergreen Channel) and Mozart's Symphony No. 35 in D, K.385 (also known as the Haffner Symphony) was being performed by the Orchestra of the Eighteenth Century. Every morning King plays a Mozart song as this is his birthday month. It's a wonderful way to wake up.

Side note - I love the Orchestra of the Eighteenth Century! They're a collective (everyone gets paid the same amount) Dutch orchestra (Orkest van de Achttiende Eeuw) with 60 members from around the globe - all playing period instruments.

There was a silent pause between songs, as usually, at 11:38 AM. Finn looked at me questioningly. I asked him if he wanted more music.

"More music!" he said.

We waited a second and then... as requested, another song played.
As you can tell from the pictures, he was beyond pleased.

Which song? The Overture from Der Freischütz, an opera by Carl Maria von Weber.

Overture to "Der Freischütz" by London Symphony Orchestra - Conductor: Philip Gibson on Grooveshark

Seattle Snow

Between moving and action-panning - got this shot.

Seattle's had that white stuff now since Sunday morning
Lovely fluffy white stuff.

We were supposed to get a storm today. Nope. Didn't happen.

Warm. Cold. The fronts changed, or whatever they were, so it was just a pleasant sprinkle.

But we definitely don't do well with snow here. The city is built on hills and sliding around on those in a giant vehicle is not our hobby.

Can't say it changed my schedule much. I only go to school twice a week and half of the classes are online. I worked on school work as much as normal, today, maybe a bit more to get ahead.
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