Our original date for leaving Seattle was October 17. This coming Saturday. That’s looking on pace to whoosh right by us.
Since our income situation is what you might call dubious, naturally apartment complexes are hesitant to extend a big ol’welcome to the Family Pagaard. We’re hunting and emailing and calling and praying.
I’ve scattered a handful of resumes and cover letters across the fallow fields of internet job sites, with more to come. Just floating that bread out on the waters. Just holding on to the promises and the Love that is behind them.
Just not looking directly at the ol’ bank balance for the next little while. Sort of sideways. Squinting.
So here’s 10 more things about life in limbo:
Lucy the #sexistgoldenretriever has taken to biting her tail hairs. It’s gross. If we leave the bathroom door open she runs in and eats my old makeup wipes from the trash. it’s gross. If she’s out of the cage and not being watched, she destroys things. Like the first day we were here, when she went for my mother-in-law’s crocheted lace tablecloth.
Seattle in the fall! People…I didn’t know. I have a Thing for Fall. (I know everyone does, I know I’m not special. OKAY.) It’s SO beautiful. the trees and the wind and the rain and the mountains. MOUNTAINS. We had mountains in Korea but not like this. I can’t seem to process that it’s really fall, really October. We left Korea in the summer, went to Europe in the summer…I don’t know why this change of season is so shocking to me.
(but I can guess.) It’s still not really sunk in that we aren’t returning to Korea, since we haven’t really had a chance to settle anywhere.
Today I’ll be baking with Josie! One benefit of staying here (among many) is that my MIL loves to bake like I do. Lemon cake is on the menu tonight y’all. Deb’s of Smitten Kitchen, obviously. Is there any other choice?
Nate and I had two evenings out in Seattle last week! We did all the touristy things and took a thousand pictures.
On Friday we met up with Nate’s old friends Soonja and Dane and they took us to Rock Creek, where I had one of the best, most exciting meals of. my. life. No exaggeration. Also no exaggeration? I did not actually recognize 86% of the words on the menu, but every single bite was delicious. The tuna tartare. I die.
I’m running out of this stuff, which I love and should have bought backups of before I left Korea. I got on sale there and nearly choked when I saw what it costs here. You know what this means? Beauty blog research time. #anyexcuse
I disconnected this blog from Facebook and Twitter. I’ll maybe post about why next week.
No idea what next week’s gonna look like, or the rest of this one…but I know who does. and that never changes. Thank God.
I’m not promising ten this week, okay? (It’s not really a question! ha!)
Let’s start out with the fact that Abbeyjust made me take a mental trip down Memory Lane, with a left turn onto Awkward Interactions with Dudes Boulevard (which is actually a cul-de-sac). That would probably produce ten things all on its own…There was the Mormon with the peaches in a Tulsa Wal-mart, the boy whose (candy) heart I literally crushed in junior high, the rough dozen of Korean cab drivers…
Someday I will tell you about the love letters I got from a Korean Gov’t official whom I taught briefly while at my first job in Korea. Today is not that day (but it included references to my ‘beautiful neck and pace.’)
When I was in 8th grade at my tiny church-run private school, we had a German class because 1 high schooler wanted to actually learn German and a bunch of 8th graders chose between that and calligraphy. I chose German because I’M COOL and no, actually it was because I thought it was the right decision because I’d actually be learning something instead of mucking about with markers! (I was a real joy to be around. Real joy.) It was an audio tape class. We made up our own vocab lists every week and had to memorize various Scriptures in German. I retained nothing except for John 14.6. The point is, as an 8th grader I fully believed there was a right and wrong choice between German and calligraphy. LESS FUN means RIGHT. And there you have youthful Colleen’s understanding of Life, summed up.
When I was a particularly beefy high schooler and my Dad was the principal and high school teacher, he once compared me to Samson in a school chapel service. He meant it as a compliment to my physical prowess.
This is what I looked like in high school.
My mom made this dress and it was awesome, despite the p-o’d expression that I wore from approx. 11-17.
Today a lady got up on the bus and I was closest to her seat so, like you do, I did the requisite pause and then swooped in for it. Her seatmate, a fellow-60 something-ajumma, said something to me in Korean and did not move her hand. So naturally I sat on her hand for a good 30 seconds until I realized her seatmate had just hopped up to the front of the bus to ask the driver a question. And she was coming back. I got up. Apologized. The stares burn me still.
Seated in a booth of a restaurant for a post-Bible-study lunch with a bunch of 30+ Korean ladies, all of whom have known Nate longer than I have, without Nate, one of them told me she had a question. “Go ahead!” I chirped. “Is the sex good?” …..
Once in college I saw a person approaching with whom I did not wish to speak and I pretended to be on the phone and it rang just as they were in the Greeting Zone.
Okay more than once.
Once during a high school chapel service one of the kindergartners came running over asking to be picked up, tugging on my uniform kilt. Which he did not release when I obliged. And everyone saw my underwear. And this was during my ‘I do not smile unless I’m ruining someone with sarcasm’ phase, so TRIPLE DAMAGE.
You guys with this topic I just SAILED through to ten things. I could keep going but THE END.
Old News Alert: I cut my hair. I can’t figure out how to make my instagram embed properly here, so if you haven’t seen it, click!
It’s pouring rain but I made it back from the coffeeshop before the rain started! And now I’m safe indoors without pants listening to the first Big Spring Rain. Best!
Somehow midterms week is nearly here already!!! Bring on the grading. And the student excuses. Hundreds of relatives will die, thousands of doctor’s signatures will be misappropriated. Jk. but really.
This blog should be called ‘The Pagaards are Coughing’ because we get sick so much. The ACV let us down big, y’all. Bronchitis big. The midnight coughing spasms have mostly gone away and I taught classes today without whispering, squeaking, or squawking, for the first time in about two weeks.
Last week we had the privilege of showing some out-of-town friends around our favorite Daegu spots. I’m gonna blog all about that later this week but: waffles, jazz bar, pig candy.
(When I say ‘I’m gonna blog about that later this week’…on a scale from 1 to nope, how doubtful is it that I actually deliver on that?)
I have a little ritual with my daily Bloglovin check, wherein I scroll through the feed and click open every post I want to read all at once before I move on to start reading them all, which means I normally end up with a dozen open tabs all at once. Actually that’s just how I Internet in general and it makes Nate twitch.
THE BEST thing that ever happens when I check Bloglovin is:
when Kara posts True stories. They make me laugh like nothing else. They make Nate laugh like nothing else. Kara’s writing is beautiful anyway, and when she’s reporting the little moments of life with a sweet, hilarious little lady…it doesn’t get better than that. I can’t wait til Evan starts talking…
Does anyone have music recommendations? Since Spring is being all boisterous and bloomy, I’m feeling the itch for new tunes. I’m surviving on old standby playlists, but it’s hard to keep up from over here.
And I took a picture of the cherry tree at work today:
I was born and raised in Bloomfield Connecticut, but I and all nine of my siblings say y’all on the regular. Casually. It’s probably an even split between Y’all and You guys. Never ‘Youse guys.’ Sally McMahon permitted y’all in her household, but ‘youse guys’ would have gotten you the grammar lecture to end all grammar lectures, delivered in a horrifying 30s era gangster impression, see? Shudder.
Things I Have Googled this week: When was Jonah written (courtesy of Nate texting Bible questions from work), what’s the difference between eau de parfum/eau de toilette (borne of too much beauty blog reading), how to take a screenshot (see last post), and ‘WWII German Artillery’ (from a discussion that arose during a Band of Brothers viewing).
The weather is full-on schizo out here: Monday morning was straight-up balmy and I ran in shorts (or whatever halfway between capri and shorts would be called. what’s the word? oh yeah, unattractive) with no frostbite, and this morning was so frigid and windy that Nate and I had to shove our way through the buffeting gusts to reach the bus stop. Buffeting. Gusts.
THIS STUFF IS A MIRACLE:
It’s set! It’s dry! None of those horrible chips and ridges and fingerprint ridges that happen when I inevitably poke my nails to see if they’re dry? #bless
That Sally Hansen stuff is part of my current campaign to #SaveTheNails. I don’t know what it is: some form of seasonal affective disorder or just teenage rebellion, but this time of year my fingernails go straight to the Other Place. They’re thin. They’re brittle. They’re chipping and flaking right down to the quick. I picked up the Insta-Dri in hopes it will stop me picking my nails. Like maybe if they’re pretty enough I’ll leave them alone. I also picked up some cuticle butter that I want to eat because it smells like lemons.
I will not eat the cuticle butter. I will not eat the cuticle butter. I will not eat the cuticle butter.
Currently contemplating a follow-up to my student emails post about the ‘interesting facts’ my students had to submit about themselves this week. Teaser: ‘my nickname is Camel for 4 years.’ Yea? Nay?
Currently listening to: Nate making robot noises in the kitchen while he toasts us up some garlic bread. Soundtrack of happiness.
Today, after a month of no eye makeup, I tried to wing my eyeliner, and I did not stab myself, not even a little. Victory, o friends.