It's been ages since I posted, I do realize this (two months and two weeks, to be a little less vague.)

I could give you a long list of excuses, but instead I will just eventually tell you the crazy stories from my crazy summer. Most of them involve working two jobs with conflicting sleep schedules, and being in a ridiculous girly funk because my other half was miles and miles away. We are eight and a half months through the year, and Future Husband and I spent four of those months apart.

We did, however, just reunite after two weeks apart, and a lot of emotionally burdensome things happened in those two weeks.

In happier news, The GBF (Gay Best Friend) is moving to Seattle in two weeks. YAY!!! This is the GBF. We love him like a brother. He's always smiling, always laughing, always making the world a more pleasant place for everyone around him. Also, he is the mutual friend that FH and I met through. Hooray!

One blustery day towards the end of March, while I had Future Husband home for a week between tours, our new friends Josh and Ali from JayLee Photography took us out and shot us.

With their cameras.

Sometime around Birthmas I had posted an ad on Craigslist, seeing if any budding photographers wanted to build up their portfolio with an Engagement Shoot. There was one fellow we were strongly considering, a photographer that had many years experience with architecture and nature shots, but was wanting to transition into the Wedding business. And then Josh and Ali came along. Already quite seasoned in the biz, they offered to do a shoot with us, and we couldn't resist after seeing their beautiful photography.

Having dabbled in photography in college, it's hard for me to not look at someone's work and immediately start critiquing it, even if I like it. I don't mean to imply that I could do any better, it's just simply that I know the technical side of what goes into a photograph, and it's hard for me to turn off the analytical part of my brain. I'll wish they'd used a different aperture, or shutter speed, or hadn't gone crazy with the photoshopping. With Josh and Ali's work, I don't do that. I look at it, and feel something first. So much so that it takes real effort for me to critique it. Their photos are full of whimsy and romance, and seem to capture the essence of the couples they work with. Their pictures aren't posed and plasticine. They are all little views into candid, happy moments with the couples they worked with.

Needless to say, Future Husband and I were massively excited about working with them. And we were not let down. Some of these pictures even moved me to tears, they so well captured FH and I.



You can see a nice selection of our shoot here. Though I highly recommend checking out their portfolio. You won't be disappointed.

We were so happy with the shoot, even if it was wet, cold and windy (it's Seattle, what else would it be?) and thrilled with the photos that came from it. Thank you so much, Josh and Ali!!!

I know, I know, it's been over a month since I've posted. Believe me, I would love to be keeping you all updated, in the most comical way possible, on how miserable being a Tour Widow is.

But a lot happened this April. A LOT.

I'll keep my list of excuses short, but give it to you nonetheless:
1-My grandmother took a turn for the worst. She's been in and out of facilities since January, but at the end of March she was moved to Hospice. The first weekend of April, I flew down to AZ to visit her one last time. She improved during and after my visit and was moved out of Hospice. I got a call Thursday night, that she's been moved back again.
2-I'm working two jobs. Which, while Future Husband is here, isn't so bad. But with him gone, I feel like he took half my brain with him. I'm miserable, lonely, and all I want to do is sleep. But when I crawl into bed alone, all I can think about is how much I miss him, and that keeps me awake.
3-We're moving. We've been looking for an apartment since February, but it's ridiculously difficult for many reasons. What little free time I have between work and trying to sleep has been sucked up by the fruitless search. (Oh, I have such tales to tell.) We finially found a place yesterday, right as we were starting to get desperate.
4-Our Roommate got picked up by Bounty Hunters. No joke. I wasn't able to post on my blog all about my roommate drama, because she was always online, always reading my blog, always commenting on my facebook. Now that she's in jail, I can say all the things I've been wanting to say. You, dear readers, will get quite a lot to read on this subject.

But that will be at a later date. I have to finish packing up the crappy Roomie's stuff, find her pets new homes, finish packing up my stuff, move it all into our new home (by myself), and somehow still find the time for two jobs and sleep. And maybe flying to AZ for a funeral.

Wish me luck.

Firstly, let me say that Future Husband hates the expression 'Tour Widow.' Probably because he takes it literally. Which is probably because I keep warning him to drive safe, not be too tired, or drunk, or let either G or D be incapacitated. Not to make me a widow before I can actually be one.

But, I mean, c'mon. How much would it suck to have your fiance die right before the wedding? You're losing your husband, but there are no legal benefits or responsibilities. So you're powerless in a time of personal crisis. Then add on to it the fact that there's some sort of social stigma. Like, "Oh, your boyfriend died 3 months ago? Why aren't you dating again?" compared to, "Oh, your husband died 3 months ago? I'm so sorry. How are you feeling?"

Still, though. I like the phrase 'Tour Widow' and I've seen other bloggers in my situation use it.

And my situation is this; there wasn't room for me in the van for their short Seattle to Austin migration. (Seriously, the Seattle music scene is a ghost town right now. Everyone's flying south by southwest for the Spring.) They're sharing a van and equipment with another band. It's a smart choice, both economically and for their career. This band is a little bit bigger and well connected, and was able to get them into some good SXSW shows.

So when the tour started last weekend, I followed them down to Oregon in my little Hyundai, named Francine. Future Husband and I stayed in cheap motels and did our best to enjoy the last few days of each others company. Unfortunately, with the work situation, the driving and the two shows, we got maybe 10 hours sleep between Wednesday and Sunday, total.

We parted ways in Central Oregon on Sunday morning. I did my best not to cry, and he kissed me tenderly, and called me 'Wife' with a wicked little smile. He climbed into the bigger van and started towards Lake Tahoe, and I got back into Francine and started back to Seattle.

When I finally arrived back at our house, I crashed for nearly 14 hours. It was lovely. Except that it made me wake up 5 hours before the start of my first job. So I decided that I should use this abundant energy to my advantage, before my brain realized just how far away Future Husband was.

I cleaned our room, picking up bits of trash that had accumulated over the last two weeks. Sorted the laundry, and got all of the dirties picked up off the floor. I even managed to decorate a little bit, putting up one of the good pictures from our Engagement Photo session in January. I drank half a pot of coffee, and wore real clothes and listened to music while I cleaned, like a normal person. (My usual cleaning routine is pajama pants and a Jane Austen movie on in the background.) After cleaning I ran to the bank, the thrift store and grabbed a quick lunch out before going to work. I was a whirlwind of productivity.


But after nannying, getting ready for my night time job, and a long, frustrating night, I was exhausted. Add to it the fact that this new night time job I have is for the same company that Future Husband works for, and that he trained me, and it's a strange emotional roller coaster. Whenever I had a question about what I should do, I couldn't just go to him and ask. I sat alone at lunch. And while I got to talk to him briefly during the break, it just wasn't quite the same. So when I got out of work at 8am, feeling tired and lonely, getting lost was the last thing I needed. I turned the wrong direction out of the parking lot in the fog, and ended up two miles away before I realized my mistake. I was able to eventually turn around and find my way back and get on the right track home, but it was insanely frustrating. And it delayed me enough that I was stuck in horrific morning rush hour traffic. What should have been a 35-40 minute drive, turned into a 90 minute one. A few minutes in, right after I had gotten on the right freeway, some silly, mopey, lovesick song started blaring out of my iPod, and it started the waterworks.

So there I sat, stuck in foggy, bumper-to-bumper traffic, thinking of the cute way Future Husband walks with his hands in his pockets and the quirky, non-sequitur things he'll say to make me laugh. Even though it wasn't the longest we had gone without seeing each other since we've lived together (which was 3.5 days in July, when I flew down to AZ for a wedding), I knew that it was going to be a lot longer. So I felt the full brunt of missing him, because I was too tired to think rationally and stave it off.


The rest of the week has alternately flown by or dragged on. Every moment he's away feels supernaturally elongated, but sitting here on Saturday, looking back at it, it's like it was over in a flash. I've had similar ups and downs emotionally, but have done my best to let my brain hold the reigns over my heart.

We'll see how the next two weeks feel.

Looking back at where I was last New Year's time, and where I am now, is really sort of mind boggling.

This time last year, when I had to sit down and name this blog, I knew that I was about to undergo a lot of change. So I decided to call it 'Third Time's the Charm.' Not, as a certain Crazy Ex of Future Husband's alleged, because I was giving him a third chance, but because this is the third time I've had a big, life altering change.

A lot of my past blogs (and before that, diaries) have complained about feeling stagnant or lost, not really knowing where I was going or why or who with. When I was 11 years old, my family's home burnt down on New Year's Day. Since then, it's always been a strange day for me. Not so much a holiday, but more like a day of remembrance. Like when a loved one passes away. When the house burned, we lost literally everything. There were a few things we were thankfully able to save; some of my cousins dug through the rubble and found my parents' wedding rings, the contents of my mother's cedar chest (her wedding dress included), and the family photos the firemen grabbed off the wall when they realized we weren't home. We lived in a hotel for a while, then bounced around with relatives until the insurance company got us an apartment. The people at our church donated clothes and toys for us, but really, all we had left from before was what we had when the house went up in flames; each other.

Eleven years later (and funnily enough, the fire marking the middle point in my life), my family fell into financial ruin. We'd tried to keep our heads above water, but my mother and I got laid off within two weeks of each other. Me one week before Christmas, and her one week after. Only a few weeks earlier, knowing we were living paycheck to paycheck and fed up with Phoenix's price and weather, we'd had a family meeting and decided to move to Tulsa. We'd been through the city before on a family road trip, and fallen in love with the area. The cost of living was less than half of Phoenix's, and the economy and job market better. So when Mom and I were both suddenly jobless, we decided that instead of moving to Tulsa in the Summer of '09, we'd go right then. So in early January (again), we decided that it we'd start over. Again.

The two years I spent in Tulsa were some of the happiest of my life. I made friends, I made and saved money. I paid for two vacations entirely by myself, as well as helping support my family. I had a job I loved and finally lived in city I liked. I felt like I had finally found a home. But as everything started falling into place for me financially and personally, I found myself thinking more and more of Future Husband. At that point in time, he was still The One Who Got Away. Or rather, to him I was The One Who Got Away Because I Was A Stupid Git. We hadn't spoken to each other since May of 2007. As more and more of 2008 passed by, I found myself missing his conversation and company, and remembering all the fun we'd had together, rather than the heartache and sleeplessness and weepy self loathing he had caused me. Believe me, there was plenty of that, but that's not what I found myself thinking of in quiet moments. I missed him. I hated myself for it, and looked for answers in the bottoms of bottles. Because of the internet and our circle of mutual friends, I was able to keep tabs on him from afar. So when I found out in October of 2008 that his band would be playing a show in Tulsa in December, I seized my opportunity. I thought I might get some sort of closure out of it, but all it did was rip the stitches out of a wound that was not yet healed.

The rest, as they say, is history. Nine months after that, we were a couple. And I was faced with another big decision- try and tackle this incredibly significant relationship long distance (as if we hadn't been over enough speedbumps), or move to Seattle? Future Husband had said he was willing to quit his band and move to Tulsa, but I knew that he wouldn't be happy, and that he, G and D would miss out on something great. (Now that I live with them, and vicariously reap the benefits of a functioning band, I kick myself for not trying harder when I was in a band as a teenager. We could have been good, too, and we weren't, because I never took it seriously enough. One of the few regrets I carry.) I desperately tried to think of a way that things would work if I stayed in Tulsa, but there was just no way. Future Husband had mentioned marriage only five days into our romantic relationship. It surprised me, but the idea felt right. (That was even more surprising.) So I decided to leave behind everything I had worked to build up over the last two years, and move to Seattle, leaving behind the job I loved, The Bestest, my home, and most importantly, my Family. All for love.

So now I've started over for a third time. I'm hoping that this is the last time I will have to change everything about my life and begin with nothing. It probably won't be, but I sure hope it is. I like the idea of building a life with Future Husband, and slowly accumulating and accomplishing all of the milestones that couples pass.

I love lists, so I'm going to make a list of all of the crazy/awesome things that have happened to me over the last year.

-I moved to Seattle, a city I probably would have always wanted to visit, but never would have.
-I went to (or through) 18 states that I had not been to before, leaving 18 continental states that I have yet to see. (I'd already been through 12 of them.)
-I visited New Orleans twice.
-I became formally engaged.
-I lived in a van for 7 months.
-I visited three foreign countries, and got my first stamps in my first Passport.
-I was a bridesmaid for the first (and probably only) time.
-I've made new friends all over the country (and one in France!). Seriously. My facebook list is awesome.

And as I've been reflecting over this for the past few days, thinking of what would go on that list, I've realized that though I worry about things; like planning the wedding, and money, and being able to tour next year, I don't feel stagnant or lost anymore. I don't worry about not ever doing anything with my life. I thought that I felt like myself in Oklahoma, and undoubtedly without those years I wouldn't be who or where I am now. For the first time I can remember in a long time (honestly, probably since my pre-fire childhood), I finally feel like myself. I feel completely comfortable in my own skin, in my own life. I don't find myself yearning for things I don't have (except money) and comforting myself with the idea of 'someday.'

All of my somedays are happening.

25 years ago today, Marty McFly went to a parking lot to meet with Doc Brown. The rest, as they say is history.

Also, in a suburb of Phoenix, Arizona, my mom squeezed me out.

I know I haven't been blogging much lately. Tour puts a damper on my productivity (malnutrition, tiredness, lack of reliable internet connection), and now that I'm home I've been distracted with things like looking for work, working, and household chores. And Breaking Bad. Seriously, Boyfriend and I have put away almost three seasons since October 8th. That's a lot of sitting in front of a boob tube.

I don't think I'll draw any cute cartoons today, as I just want to put a blog up so you all know I haven't mysteriously disappeared. Also, it's my birthday. My 25th freaking birthday. It seems like a blog worthy day.

Birthdays have never made me feel any different. As a child, I always expected some sort of magical transformation over night, or at the very least, for the day to feel unusual. Like Christmas. There's this sort of stillness in the air on Christmas. I always expect my birthday to feel that way, but it doesn't.

This birthday makes me want to better myself, though. Like it's a chance for New Years-esque resolutions. Like I'm really starting my adult life now, with a nice, round, halfway to 50 age.

But here are my Quarter Life resolutions:
-Write EVERY day. 1,000 words on a novel would be nice, but that's not realistic. A paragraph or two, or a blog, or even just jotting down ideas of stories and novels... hell, even fan fiction, is better than not writing at all.
-Eat better. I've been doing a good job of it since tour, but I've had entirely too much fast food and too many restaurant outings this year. I don't feel good. Good food makes you feel good.
-Be smarter with money. Just because I have money sitting in my bank account, doesn't mean I have to spend it.
-Practice music more. I miss playing and writing and singing. It's an amazing way to express myself, and I miss getting lost in it.

I can't really think of anything else. I mean, I've got a great guy by my side, a wonderful family, and friends that actually care about me. The outlook from here is pretty swell. Honestly, I couldn't ask for more. Well, maybe a book deal or to win the lottery, but as far as practicality goes... this is Happily Ever After, and I'm lucky enough to have found it this young.

Boyfriend and I are day sleepers. I've always tended to be night owl, but with Boyfriend going to work at 9pm and returning between 4am-7am, I've switched over to being fully nocturnal.

With a long weekend (made longer by Boyfriend being sick) our hours got really strange. I woke up at 10pm, and Boyfriend slept until 4am. After breakfast, we decided we wanted to take advantage of the beautiful weather (sweater temperatures with super thick fog) and wanted to go for a walk. Our roommate suggested we take her dogs to a dog park. So off we went to Magnuson Park.

In an effort to shorten my blogs (they've been massive lately) I'll let the pictures do most of the talking.







All said and done, it was a great day. I felt like a kid again. And when we got back home, we explored the downtown area (2 blocks from our house), found a great little place to have lunch, and wandered around a cool pawn shop. Paired with the brownies and cookies that came in the mail from home, this is looking like it's going to be a swell weekend. And tomorrow? Tomorrow we go visit (and for me, meet) some of Boyfriend's relatives.

When we awoke from our well deserved nap, we joined my family upstairs (my Mom works swing shift and gets off at 11:30pm) for spaghetti and softball sized meatballs. Those made amazing meatball subs the next day, lemme tell ya. We were still pretty tired, even after a six hour nap, so crashed in the wee hours, along with the rest of the household.

The family cat had kittens in late April, so we enjoyed those for a bit before bed. My hairy, rock star of a Boyfriend playing with kittens is a precious sight. When we woke after another ten hours of sleep (so, so nice) we went upstairs into the main house for breakfast, thankfully spared from a ginormous feast. Instead, we had cereal and toast. My father is Italian, and my mother is Irish. So feeding house guests is one of their hobbies. Seriously. Every friend I've ever had, even if they're only friendly acquaintances, knows that Lori's parents will always feed you, insist on a second helping, and send you home with leftovers. I warned my parents a week before we flew out there (when they called and asked me to email a list of the meals we wanted during the visit) that we'd need to slowly stretch our stomachs back out, especially so soon after tour. When we stopped there for two nights (right after Easter) I was sure our stomachs were going to burst. A la pigeons and alka seltzer. Luckily, the 'rents took it easy on us for this most recent Tulsa trip.

Sunday we spent as nerds. We sat in my parents' basement, drank a 12 pack of Mountain Dew White Out, and played video games (Boyfriend breaking in his brand new PS3, and I reunited with my beloved Sims 3).

Monday we went down to the tattoo parlor and got corresponding/matching tattoos. Neither of us are newcomers to the ink world; this was his fourth and my fifth. When I got my most recent tattoo (about two weeks after we became a couple) we both lamented that we wanted more tattoos. I suggested that we go down and get tattooed together, on the same day. All but one of my tattoos were group outings. The idea sounds a bit trivial, but I think it's a fun way to bond with people. The idea stuck. A few weeks later, as we were discussing what we wanted for our next tattoos, I suggested corresponding tattoos. Personally, I think it's bad luck to get a lover's name or likeness inked. It's a jinx. In fact, Boyfriend has Crazy Ex #1's name on his upper arm inside a heart. GAG. My suggestion was to get art we already wanted individually in the same session. I've been wanting a black bird or an owl for quite a while now, and Boyfriend's always been a huge fan of the coelacanth. (He's a weird one. That's why I love him.) And I've always loved that old saying, 'If a bird and a fish fell in love, where would they make their home?' It rang especially true as our unrequited love become requited after five long years, when we lived 2,000 miles apart. When I posed this idea to Boyfriend, he said, "Who knew the answer would be, 'In a van'?"

So in April when we passed through Tulsa briefly, we decided we go down and make an appointment with an artist. Two days before we were set to do so, Boyfriend and I were discussing it and he said, "You know, I've been thinking about getting a dime tattooed someday."

The few of you that know us both really well and/or had to suffer through the aforementioned five years of unrequited love/torture, know the significance of the dime. My parents said at our wedding they're not going to throw rice or confetti, they're going to throw dimes. I told them that would really hurt and be a waste of $100. Long story short (and perhaps I'll blog about this later on), dimes have been a running joke between Boyfriend and I since the Great Dime Diving Night in December of 2004.

Boyfriend's been reading The Golden Bough for a while now (he's almost done!), and oak trees have taken on significance for him. So he decided that he wanted the tails side of the dime. I, of course, immediately thought, 'We haven't decided on what kind of design we want for our bird/fish tattoos, so I'll just get heads.'



The rest of our time in Tulsa was spent with The Bestest and my family, going on outings, having great family dinners, playing board games until the wee hours of the morning, watching movies, smoking hookah (No pot ever! Ew! Gross! Ick!), visiting my favorite bars and restaurants and putting off packing. Oh, and video games. Did I mention that Boyfriend and I killed five 12 packs of Mountain Dew White Out while he played Grand Theft Auto IV and I played The Sims 3? Yeah. We're a match made in nerd heaven.

When the big day came and it was finally time for us to load up my car, I quickly packed the piles of belongings into boxes (we'd take breaks from video games to stretch and sort a few things) while Boyfriend used his developed car packing talent (from years of loading and unloading musical equipment into cars of various sizes) to expertly put all of my things in my little baby SUV. We said goodbye to my mom and The Bestest (the brothers and Dad were out buying my youngest brother's first car.) I congratulated myself on not crying as we drove away.

It really was the best way for me to move out. Two week visits punctuated the six months we were forced to have a long distance relationship. Then we had tour, so I was on a BO scented musical adventure. Even with tour, I got to visit my family. So it was like weaning myself off of my very close knit family. It helped both me and the parental unit, I think.

We got a much later start than we had originally intended, partly because I put off serious packing until my last day (still though, it only took twenty minutes), and partly because I was dreading the moment I said my final goodbyes to the Fam, but mostly because Boyfriend and I decided we wanted to get a good night's sleep before we drove 2,000 miles in 3 days.

We stopped at Spangles (one of the regional highlights of tour) for dinner, even though we had originally intended it to be breakfast. After an uneventful, mostly dark drive, we arrived in Denver a little after 2:00am, and met up with one of my oldest friends to stay at his place. (On a side note, isn't it crazy how friends and family are scattered as we grow older?) We slept on his floor for four hours, then woke up to share a French Press worth of coffee and giant muffin with him before he had to leave for rugby practice and we had to hit the road again.



We planned to stop in Cheyenne for lunch, but the interstate only had fast food to offer, and we were craving Chinese something fierce.So we continued on through the bottom of Wyoming (a truly, painfully boring drive) until we hit Laramie. We saw a billboard advertising a Thai place, and decided to stop there. Unfortunately, we both neglected to remember the exit number. And Laramie has like, two exits, five miles apart. That's only a tiny exaggeration. We decided to pull off the highway for gas, and let the google search on my phone find enough of signal to function. As luck would have it, there was a Chinese Buffet across the street from the gas station. Unfortunately for me, there was absolutely nothing green on the buffet line that wasn't battered and deep friend. I'd had my heart set on some beef and broccoli... but alas. At least their wrapped chicken was so tasty it made up for the lack of vegetables.

Later we stopped at some of the weirdest little gas stations and truck stops we've ever been to. (And we've been to a lot.) One was in a tiny place called Point of Rocks where we got or giant sodas for free. I don't know if it's because we were probably the only tattooed and long haired people she'd ever seen, or if it was because she knew how horribly mixed their soda fountain was. We weren't able to drink the soda (almost entirely syrup and flat), but threw them out at another little truck stop that used propaganda type ads as advertising. A weird little place called Little America. It was like a tiny, manufactured city of a truck stop. They did, however, have the cleanest, nicest bathroom I've ever seen on the side of an interstate. Leather sofas in the waiting area of the womens restroom, floor to ceiling walls and doors on every (very spacious) toilet stall. It was a little oasis of cleanliness, which was much appreciated, even as Stepford-creepy as it was.

We drove on again, pushing ourselves to make it to Salt Lake City before nightfall, wanting to hit a Golden Corral (Boyfriend had never been, and it's one of those hokey things I simply adore) before we turned in for the night. Make up for our deep fried Chinese lunch with a salad and plate of vegetables.

Just as we thought we were going to go crazy from the boring, beige scenery that is Wyoming (Seriously, it's worse than Kansas and both Dakotas.), we crossed the state line. Almost instantly, there were trees, and green things, and real mountains. It was like Utah had given the corner of the land it didn't want to Wyoming. We were weaving through gorgeous mountain valleys that looked like something from a model train layout.

The hotel we splurged on that night was not anything to write home about. In fact, it's long hallways and single painting made it a bit creepy. There was a frame every ten or so feet, but they each had the exact same print in them. A lonely looking pink and gold chair sitting in a sea of white negative space. We decided (after a shower) that we'd hit a Golden Corral in Idaho on the way back home, and we'd just eat in the restaurant in the lobby. The thing that really stood out about this hotel, and made it a super enjoyable stay for us, was the bed. For once, I'm not being pervy. It was honestly the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in. It was a California King, which at 5'11" and 6'3" we appreciate more than short people will ever understand. We fell asleep after watching a movie. I woke four hours later, certain I'd slept through our alarm because I was so rested. I've never been happier to fall back asleep.

The drive from Salt Lake City to Seattle is 14 hours. We stopped at a Golden Corral in Boise, and stuffed ourselves. Boyfriend mostly on barbecue, and I mostly on Caesar salad and macaroni and cheese. We tried not to fall asleep as we drove through beautiful parts of Oregon. They were so picturesque it made me long for my camera, which was securely tucked away in the back. Unfortunately.

We stopped in Washington at the first open gas station. Oregon is one of two states that does not have self service gas stations. You are not allowed to pump your own gas. You have to stay in the car, while some junkie or redneck collects your payment and does it for you. The problem with this is not so much the inconvenience of not being self sufficient, but being nocturnal, or being stuck in Oregon at night when no gas stations are open. Grateful to finally be in our home state, we happily gassed up the car, got ourselves the biggest cups of coffee they had, and those little 5 Hour Energy shots. (Which are essentially vitamin B overdoses.)

It was a long trek, and by the time we got to the prettiest parts of Washington (the mountain passes between the eastern side of the state and the sound) it was pitch black, and raining. I was wired on energy drinks, desperately needed to pee, and became convinced that one of the truckers that kept speeding past me or riding up on my tail was actually trying to kill me. Seriously. Why else would someone who drives professionally be going 90mph on a winding mountain pass at 3:00am in the rain? Homicide seemed logical at the time.

We finally rolled back into our own driveway about 3:30am (unmurdered by crazy truckers), went promptly to our room, and collapsed into sleep.

Started this one in May, just now getting it posted. I know, I know. Welcome to the procrastination packed world of Loriology. Things have been crazy. Anyway, here it is, finally.

Boyfriend and I got lost in downtown Seattle during rush hour.

That is how we found our new place. Not directly, mind you, but that's what started the sequence of events. Chinatown is on the southern side of downtown Seattle, so we got lost in a tangle of one way streets as we tried to leave it that Thursday afternoon. It was about 5:00 when we left. We got home a little past 6:00. Personally, I didn't mind it. Getting lost is one of the best ways for me to learn my way around. And the weather was surprisingly pleasant. All but one day since we've returned from tour has been ridiculously sunny and beautiful. We ended up driving down a street full of historical apartment buildings. Most of them had posh names and sleek, modernized logos and names. Which I've learned in my apartment hunt means they think it's okay to charge $1600 for a mediocre one bedroom apartment.

One, however, looked pretty cool. It was called The Embassy. (Another red brick building with molded plaster trim. I have a type.) Their sign said 'Now Renting Studio Apartments' with a number underneath. So while we were sitting at the red light adjacent, I gave it a call. Since it was after 5:00, the office was closed, but I left a message for Bruce, the Office Manager. "Hi Bruce, my name is Lori, and I drove past your building today and saw the sign about your Studio apartments for lease. I have a few questions about price and parking, utilities and whatnot. If you could give me a call at ###-###-####, it would be much appreciated. Thank you, and have a great evening."

(Seriously, that's what I sound like on the phone. I'm a dork. Thanks, resume full of reception jobs.)

Now, very few of you know what my voicemail message says. It's crucial to the story, so I'll post it here. I swear to god, this is my real outgoing message. I've had unrecognized numbers call me and the only message left is a second or two of laughter. It came about one night a few years ago right after I moved to Oklahoma. I had terrible insomnia, and was in a goofy mood. Anyway, this is it;

"You have reached the voicemail inbox for Lori, Evil Overlord and Aspiring Ruler of the Universe. To receive information on how to apply for Henchmanship, please press 2. For jetpack maintenance, please press 3. For all other inquiries, leave a message including your name, date and time of inquiry, and interesting subject matter. Due to high call volume and time consuming nefarious activities, only entertaining inquiries will receive a return call. Thank you."

Now, Boyfriend and I are practically nocturnal anyway, but we've become day sleepers since we got back from tour because of work. He leaves for work between 9:00 and 9:30, and returns about sunrise, usually. So my schedule is pretty much the same. Being nocturnal can be a right pain in the ass when it comes to dealing with the rest of the world (banks, governments, coffee shops, etc) but there are a few perks, other than saving on sunscreen. One of the many is that I miss pesky collection and telemarketer calls during the day.

So when we woke up Friday afternoon, about 4:30, I had a message waiting for me from Bruce, the property manager; "Hi this is Bruce from the Embassy Apartments, and maybe your new lair... Alright, (chuckle) sorry, doing my best after hearing your message. If you'd like to check out the apartments.... " Then gives me all the contact/website info.

I'd listened to it in 'bed' (a couple of sleeping bags and blankets on the floor in D's room, in G's house) so Boyfriend heard it, too. We both chuckled along with Bruce. I meant to give him a call back, or at the very least, check out the website, but I was still quite sleepy, and at the lay-in-bed-and-do-nothing-but-maybe-grope-my-significant-other stage of waking up. After three days full of being ignored or rejected by housing inquiries, I was considering posting a housing wanted ad, instead of just sifting through them all. I jokingly said, "That's what I should post as our Craigslist ad; Aspiring Super Villain and Sidekick seek new Lair."

To which Boyfriend responded, "Sidekick!?"

I said, "I know, but 'sidekick' sounds catchier than 'Two Aspiring Villains of Equal Importance and Evildoingness."

Boyfriend mumbled into his pillow, "Yeah, you're right." We snuggled up in bags together, but my brain was quite awake. I was doing my writing thing; turning phrases over in my head, crafting and reshaping them for maximum hilarity. After twenty minutes, I knew I had to do it.

I sat up and grabbed my laptop, and went to work. After the first paragraph or so, Boyfriend had woken fully and was looking over my shoulder, suggesting sentences, amendments and additions. After about an hour of typing, giggling maniacally, and having D remind us what dorks/nerds we are every five minutes or so, I had my lovely ad and an accompanying MS Paint drawing.

Aspiring Super Villain and Sidekick Seek New Lair
An aspiring Super Villain and her magnificent Sidekick are seeking a new Lair, preferably in the Northern neighborhoods of Seattle. However, for the right lair, we'll be willing to go as far south as White Center, or as far north as Lynnwood. We're looking for just one room in an established lair, and would prefer our own bathroom, although that is not a necessity (villains on a budget must accept a few inconveniences.) As far as budget goes, we'd like something around $400 if utilities are not included, and something around $500 if they are. We are, however, a little flexible. We recognize the value of a good lair.

We have no pets, do not smoke, are drug free and the alter ego has a steady day job to save up money for a hypno-ray (which let me tell you, does not come cheap these days.) We would need parking for at least one vehicle, but if you can accommodate our hovertank it would be much appreciated. We also recognize that in the world of Super Villainy, flexibility is key. We would be willing to do month to month, or a 6, 9 or 12 month lease for the right lair.

Potential Roommates/Henchmen must have a sense of humor and be almost as awesome as we are. Those are the only requirements, really. Should you meet our qualifications for henchmenship, we will issue you your uniform and jetpack.

We would gladly wring our hands and laugh maniacally if we found a studio apt, a room in your house, abandoned amusement park, haunted castle, or volcano. If you have any of these available, be a good little minion, and contact us immediately.






Yes, that's the real ad. Unfortunately, it's down now, but it was really on Craigslist for the weekend.

And it worked. This was the second email we received in response;
[Title of the e-mail was: The Lair (No really, that is what I call it)]
Little further south than you are looking for as it is in Burien…. BUT…

Ideal parking, brightly lit room and the wifi SSID is “The Lair”. Could work into longer term than the 2 months currently shown in the ad:

(link)

Breathlessly awaiting the monologue before the ax falls!


Boyfriend came over and read over my shoulder when I started making exciting squeally noises. Her ad is down now, too, but the first line of it read, "One bus to rule them all!" and proceeded to use the nearby bus station as a selling point. We chuckled in unison (Boyfriend and I do and say a lot of things in unison. It freaks people out. We delight in those moments.) and Boyfriend said, "She referenced Lord of the Rings in her opening sentence. My kind of nerd."

The ad also said that the room was presently available, and would be available at least through July 31st (which works out perfectly for us, as the next tour starts at the beginning of August.) It also mentioned that if needed, it could be furnished. Also perfect, because we're not moving any of my furniture from Tulsa to Seattle, and Boyfriend doesn't have any. Our potential roommate's ad stated that she was ok with liquor, but absolutely not 420 friendly. Also perfect for us, as Boyfriend and I loathe pot, but love booze (a really strange combination in our creative fields, lemme tell ya.) It only had one bathroom to share, and she had pets, but oh well. (Boyfriend wasn't too keen on the animals, but personally I was excited at the prospect of having pets without actually being their owner. Like the Cool Pet Aunt.)

I was thrilled. I wrote back:
Dear Potential Henchperson,
It seems a further exchange of information is needed. As I am about to retire to my chambers I will wait to hear back from you before contacting you via cell phone, either with a voice or text message.

1-How furnished is furnished? I am hoping this means mattress, because that is much better than loads of comforters and sleeping bags piled on top of each other. It's fun when you're ten years old, but it's just not practical to make a blanket fort every night when you're in your mid-twenties. And I don't know about you, but this Super Villain to be needs some beauty rest every once and a while. If this doesn't mean mattress, I hope you won't mind the aforementioned blanket fort being erected every few nights.

2-We would be looking to occupy our new Lair on June 1st, but may be able to negotiate an earlier occupation... say May 15th? Petty details to be determined at a later date.

3-We survive mostly on a diet of bacon and coffee. Like 'The Oregon Trail', but with less dysentery and fewer snakebites. On the occasion we are not making the kitchen smell like a breakfast oriented greasy spoon, we'll likely be cooking an elaborate family meal. You see, minion, we like to cook. And when we go all out, we go all out. So hopefully you like to eat. It's not every day, but about once a week I fall back on my plan to take over the world by feeding everyone in the vicinity entirely too much delicious food. This plan always backfires, because I too fall prey to the food coma. But I never stop trying. Persistance is the key to World Domination. (Don't worry though, my food coma always drains the villainy out of me long enough to do the dishes.)

4-Google Maps shows us that there is a German deli next door. How is the food?

I will contact you tomorrow evening (later today... did I mention that like all good Villains, we're primarily nocturnal?) to discuss a viewing of the property and perhaps the fitting for your uniform and jetpack.

-Lori
loriology.blogspot.com

When we awoke the next morning (and by that I mean afternoon) I checked my email first thing, and discovered a response that had arrived only four hours later.
Dear Super Villain in Training,

First let me say that I am truly sorry the little toe callus has taken over your existence. It seems that you may not have been nearly as evil previous to its appearance. And interesting to note that any number of small Thai or Vietnamese women could be your kryptonite!

Now on to your pertinent inquiries.
Bed… check
Early check in… check
Bacon & coffee… check and check
Others cooking… check
Me eating…. Check
German Deli…status unknown due to shortness of time at current location

Here is the not so skinny.I moved into this place on the first… furniture, over all, has yet to join me. (Although it may by the 15th) What is here is your bed and a small coffee table in the room.

This having been an office between its last time as a residence and this… closet space is, well nonexistent. To that end there are wardrobes in our futures. Sadly, Ikea does not sell the ones with Narnia inside, despite my continued protests to customer service and the UN.

Feel free to call at any hour, if I answer I am awake, if not my vm is always up for a chat.

I am the founder of Ellipsis Anonymous, by the way… We meet every Tuesday and Thursday in my imagination.

As far as my henchmanship goes, I find that I do better at crafting my own hijinx. I think it best we consider a Super Villain alliance rather than a minion hierarchy. I’m not built for tights and jetpacks inevitably scorch my ass.

Last note as far as drawbacks of the place.. the one thing closet sized in the building is the shower. No tub and a shower that may have come from one of those Japanese coffin hotels. The ones where the bed becomes a shower, becomes a storage unit? Yeah… well... it is upright though so that is a bonus.

I don’t have much in the way of recent blogs to let you know about me, but as you are a writer this may help instead, being a bit more personal than a blog. (Not a bad review site either, btw)
[Then she gave me a link to an uber cool review site called Urbis]

It’s my birthday.. yay me! Rent my place so I can celebrate! LOL

I called immediately, even before I got a cup of coffee, and made an appointment to go see it that night. She and I ended up chatting for ten minutes after we set up our meet time.

We arrived about ten minutes past the time we'd discussed (Lori and Boyfriend standard, unfortunately) and called to let her know we were near. She guided us to the little side street behind that leads to the parking, and we met the dogs. There was a nice sized, fenced in porch, and a massive garage. A little bit of a yard for the dogs to play in. The back of the house holds a decent sized kitchen with a ton of counter space. There are two large living rooms, and the room for rent was the back corner of the house. About 8'x13', which was a massive improvement over the Chinatown closet we looked at. A business is run out of the front of the house, and the living quarters are in the back. Within two blocks there are multiple grocery stores, 24-hour pharmacies, bars, amazing smelling Italian places, the library, the post office, and a police station. Factor in the fact that it was all bills included, (cable and wifi part of that) we got along with the roommate, and there were pets that I got to play with... well. I tried to do the 'let us think about it' thing, but after about fifteen minutes it was obvious that this was the fit for us.

We hung out with our soon to be new roommate for another twenty minutes, then ran to one of the nearby grocery stores to pull out cash from an ATM to make a deposit.

When we left the band house, we told D we'd be back in half an hour or so to make dinner, so told him not to give in to the frozen pizzas calling his name. (All of the guys love when I cook big meals for them. They're musicians. Food is one of the primary ways to earn their affection.) Needless to say, D was happy to see us when we arrived two and a half hours later. I made a greek meatloaf that night, humming to myself, happy with the security of a deposit down and a lease signed, five days before we had to leave town for Tulsa. SUCCESS!!

I haven't forgotten about you my lovelys. I've just been super busy with this whole 'moving halfway across the country' thing.

I've got posts coming soon, I promise. =)

-Lori

No, our hair is not tangled together.

This one was visibly larger, but still far too small. The 'bathroom' area at least didn't waste space, but there was what looked like a big water heater on a shelf over the toilet. If we did live there, I would be constantly imagining the apparatus crashing down on me and smooshing the life out of me while I did my business. Not cool.



Then, while Apartment Lady was talking about this one, pointing out the view from the window (which made the rest of the room look smaller by comparison), mentioned that this unit was $525 a month. Boyfriend and I made nice, but got out of there as quickly as possible. Obviously, the ad on Craigslist was referring to the broom closet on the fifth floor, not any of the studio apartments left for rent.

We decided not to waste the 45 minutes we had left on the parking meter, so went to Uwajimaya, which is apparently a world famous Asian Supermarket I'd never heard of. (Thanks, homeschooling.) We got the ingredients for dinner, poked the funny looking fish in the seafood section, and splurged on some Red Curry in the food court area.

The first looksie at an apartment might have been a dud, but at least the afternoon wasn't.

I started this blog back in Seattle, before we left for tour. But with intermittent internet access and electrical outlet availability, my posting of some of these blogs is getting quite delayed. This blog was originally started on 3/2/10, just FYI.

Boyfriend and I woke up to a call from G, inviting us over to the band house for Split Pea Soup. It's Boyfriend's recipe, and OMG, is it good. I hate peas (almost as much as I hate Bono), but I love his Split Pea Soup. It has bacon and onions in it, which is probably what makes it so effing awesome. I bet if Bono were made of bacon and onions, I wouldn't hate him so much.... but anyway. We went over early in the evening, and had our soup while we watched Fox (because that's the only channel they get.)





After soup we packed up for practice, and when we got there, the guys went inside to start, while I grabbed Boyfriend's car keys (with the e-key for the practice space) and hiked up the hill to the hotel. I wanted to grab my laptop so I could work on the band's site while they practiced. While I was by myself in the room, I indulged and grabbed one of the oatmeal craisin cookies I had splurged on when I went grocery shopping. (I figured I'd be PMSing and the leaving-the-nest emotions would hit midweek, and I would need cookies.) So with my laptop bag in one hand, and my cookie in the other, I started back down the hill. I got halfway down before I realized I had locked the keys inside the hotel room. Stupid dried cranberries and your delicious mind control powers!

Up the hill I went again. I got the front desk guy (who Boyfriend and I had nicknamed 'Buster' on the birthday visit because of his resemblance to the youngest brother on Arrested Development) to follow me up to the room and open it for me. There sat the keys in their little nook by the door. All ready to be stowed in my pocket. I grabbed them and started back down again. Classic Lori behavior.




After practice we went back to the band house to watch Deadwood and sneak some PDA in while G and D weren't looking. We intended to smoke hookah while we did, but we had to watch it in Boyfriend and D's room, and so didn't want to bring hot coals all the way in there from the kitchen. (For the record, Boyfriend and I are extremely anti-drug [one of the many things we love about each other] and we only smoke sheesha in our hookahs. Don't worry.)

When it was time to leave, we decided to hit Jack in the Box on our way back to the hotel. We stopped to get gas, right next to a Jack in West Seattle, but decided to go to the one nearest the hotel so it wouldn't be cold by the time we got it back to the room. When we finally arrived at the Jack in Ballard, our little fast food craving hearts were crushed. The lights were out at the 24-hour burger joint. Interior, exterior, street sign. All dark. What the hell, Jack!? It's four in the morning and I need a GD Sourdough Jack!

Having lost all faith in humanity and 24-hour fast food chains, we walked back to our hotel, burgerless. We hung our heads and the Charlie Brown theme played.





Instead, I thought of Hyperbole and a Half (which I do far too often), and started appreciating the city. There is something surreal and special about a city in the middle of the night. I've always loved having familiar blocks of city to myself. I know the area around my childhood home like the back of my hand from the nights I would spend wandering around them in the wee hours. I think you truly get to know a city during that time of day. You can really see it. You're not distracted by cars and pedestrians and noisy tenants. It's just you and the city. Which is nice, considering I'm just getting to know Seattle. So far, I love it.

And coinciding with my new romance with Seattle, was a scenario in my head of Boyfriend and I fighting Zombies. We would be really good at that. I'd draw a picture of that, but all I can think of is Allie's drawing of her drop kicking a Zombie in the head. And I know I'd just be posting a poor imitation. So I won't.

But I just want you all to know where my brain went. This is probably what my thoughts sounded like right then; "I love night time. I love this city. I love this city at night time. I love it because it's just me and Boyfriend.... and maybe ZOMBIES!!!??!?!????"

It's been weird breaking my blogging streak... I got rather used to posting something every day. It was pretty productive of me, even if it was a bit of a time suck. I suppose it's better to dedicate some of that effort towards my novel... but alas. (It looks like the ellipsis take over when I'm lacking sleep.)

I arrived in Seattle on time, even though my plane left Phoenix 45 minutes late. I don't know how planes work. Honestly. It blows my mind. I suppose there's not a speed limit up there, but still. Terrifying. A giant hunk of metal magically hurdling through the sky at hundreds of miles per hour. Bring me rum.




Boyfriend met me at the airport, and the PDA started there at baggage claim. Hooooraaaaay. I told him a few days ago that when I missed him hard, it was like being thirsty. Which is appropriate, given the face that kissing him and having his arms around me after being away from him for weeks feels like a cold glass of water when you're very, very thirsty.

But enough with the mushy stuff. We were both exhausted, and hungry, as neither of us had really gotten any food or sleep in the 24 hours leading up to my arrival. We checked into the hotel, and promptly sought out food. The hotel we usually stay in has roughly two bazillion restaurants nearby, but we settled on a place we hadn't tried yet. Bully for us! Especially since we're creatures of habit. Two spicy, delicious pulled pork sandwiches later, we were back at the hotel, deciding what time to set the alarm for so we knew how much nap we could fit in before Boyfriend had to go to work.

Work was probably the hardest part of the weekend. I got six lovely hours with him, and then BAM! Eight hours of him being away. He called it an appetizer. I told him I wanted to main course. That made me hungry, so I watched Food Network while I ate a peanut butter and banana sandwich. When he finally got back from work, I made a quite spectacular dinner, considering my tools and budget were rather limited (one sauce pan, one skillet, two burners, one Ikea steak knife, no cooking utensils).

Friday night was the first show his band had this weekend. It's at a little bar called Tiger Lounge, and the building totally used to be an old house. There are pinball machines in the basement, and the bar is in the back room. The front rooms have been opened up into one large room with tables and chairs for the pub grub they serve. There's a stage in one corner, zebra print covered speakers, and local art on the walls. It has a local bar/pub/everybody-knows-your-name feel to it. I love it.

The guys were playing second in a show of four bands, so we parked at the bar until it was time to play. Boyfriend got two free drinks since he was playing, so got me a drink with one of his tickets. As we were sipping the finest of the cheap beers, two friendly acquaintances from my last trip recognized me and came up. I got hugs. I felt accomplished. I'd technically lived in Seattle for only a week (and even then, my residency is very loosely defined) and I was getting hugs from two facebook friends.

They're fun to talk to, and fun to be at shows with, since they appreciate live music like I do. They, however, get into it a little more than I do. Maybe because I'm a musician myself, I am a bit of a snob when it comes to watching other bands. These two make me a little sad though, because I know what they do every weekend is what they've been doing since they were teenagers. They're like career band aids. They love a few different bands, and follow them somewhat faithfully. For some reason though, it just rings hollow to me. I don't really know how to go about getting to know them, or if I even want to. Remember that movie with Goldie Hawn and Susan Sarandon, about the groupies that were all grown up? Yeah, most people don't. But I did see it. That's what these women reminded me of. Fun to be around, but still a warning.



After the show the bartender (who reminds me a great deal of my favorite cousin) started giving me free drinks. I started getting free drinks before the guys did, so it was funny. I only had two or three beers, but she gave me some sort of pineapple juice and flavored vodka drink, as well as a shot of whiskey later in the night. I would have been just fine with the whiskey and beer, but the vodka... oh, the vodka. For those of you that don't know me in person, Vodka is my arch nemesis. Vodka lives in an ice castle (very much like the Fortress of Solitude) and plots ways to thwart me. Vodka watches me on monitors and bugs my phone calls, so it can show up on nights I want to have a nice, easy, fun time with my friends. And then he strikes. He swoops in, sneaks some vodka into my stomach, and then laughs maniacally as he poisons me with his subtle strength and ruins my night. Damn you, Vodka! Someday I will exact my revenge!




After the show Boyfriend and I hit Jack in the Box on the way back to the hotel. Sourdough Jacks. Mmmm... how I've missed them living in Tulsa. Then we did lots of things that were amazing and mind blowing and not appropriate to describe in detail, considering half of my followers are related to me. But it was awesome. And we had to sleep for ten hours afterwards.

Saturday we were supposed to meet one of my cousins for sushi, but he got shipped to San Diego for the weekend at the last minute. We'd been looking forward to sushi all week though, so we went to Freemont and loaded up. Spider Rolls, god. So, so tasty. Then he walked me around the neighborhood and showed me the Troll under the bridge. It was spectacular. Someday I wanted something that terrifying/awesome in my yard. The street you have to walk up to get to it is even called 'Troll Ave'. I poked around it for a few minutes, admiring it's general awesomeness and silently scolding myself for forgetting my camera. Then Boyfriend and I kissed for a few minutes in front of the troll. It was spectacular. It was also windy and I had my hair down, so any onlookers would have only seen two Muppets standing quite close to one another, and none of the offensive smooching.



Walking back down the hill to get back to the car was magical. It was a crisp night, but not too cold. And clear, which is unusual for Seattle (in my limited experience). The stars were visible, and coming down the hill you could clearly see the water and the homes on the other side. It was all trees and twinkling lights and the moon and stars reflected off the water. And I had a boy that's crazy in love with me holding my hand. All in all, the moment was pretty serene. And then we started talking about Zombies. It's what we do.

Sunday was their tour kick off show at a place called The Comet. Boyfriend and I had to park about half a mile away (the closest spot we could find) and hike. Which is pretty much what we had to do the other two times they played at The Comet while I was out there. The show went really well (in fact, a photographer came out just to see the guys and shoot them, then left right after they played) and we sold lots of merch. I came to a rather sad realization, and that's that I don't quite fit in with the crowd that comes to Boyfriend's shows. It's fairly obvious that I'm a goody goody. Everyone there was wearing black, and the only hints of color were red accents on guys' shirts and girls' plaid accessories. I, however, was wearing a bright red shirt, a normal shade of blue jeans (instead of black or very dark blue) and had my hair in pigtails. In my defense, the pigtails were there because of the amount of frizz present that day. Braids were the only way to tame them. But still. I felt like friggin' Pollyanna at a Black Mass.



Afterwards we got our standard post show meal of hot dogs with cream cheese (so good, trust me!), then headed back to the hotel to enjoy a bed and warmth and indoor plumbing for the last few days we were guaranteed to have it.