lifestyle blog

Calling All Humans, I Want Your Garbage

Calling all humans, I want your garbage.

No, not your actual garbage. Not your literal, tangible, probably rank garbage. I’m talking about your figurative garbage. More specifically: your morning garbage.

(How many times do I have to say garbage before it becomes a drinking game?) 

We’ve all had bad mornings. The nuclear, should have stayed in bed, can this seriously be happening type mornings. The garbage mornings, if you will. And since we’ve all had these, I thought there should be a place to talk about them. To laugh at them. To prove they are actually a thing that happened, even if it may seem impossible.

So, I’ve started This Terrible Morning. A blog dedicated to the horrible, awful and hilarious mornings that tend to haunt us every once in a while.

This is where your garbage comes in.

I want your stories, your pictures, your sarcastic turn of phrases. All of it. It doesn’t matter if you’re not a writer or a comedian or a photographer. The only credentials you need are an honest voice, a great story, and the willingness to share it.

So if you’ve ever had one of those mornings that started with a (maybe literal) bang and ended in a (hopefully figurative) fire, please do me and the Internet the honor of sharing it! And if you’re someone who secretly enjoys reading about those fires, please do me and the people brave enough to share theirs the honor of subscribing!

You can find the blog at www.thisterriblemorning.com

You can submit your stories/pictures/etc. to thisterriblemorning@gmail.com

Jeffrey’s Big Milestone

I’m not sure what the appropriate introduction song is here…

For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow? Happy Birthday? Graduation by Vitamin C? There are just so many emotions to sort through. I can’t decide which song fits the best.

In short: my car, Jeffrey, just hit 100,000 miles and I don’t know how I feel about it.

One thing I do know however, is that you should never pass up the opportunity to celebrate things like this.

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Jeff, we’ve been together for almost ten years now. We’ve been to six different states, countless cities and hundreds of Mexican restaurants. We’ve driven on practically every terrain in various levels of elevation. We’ve been in an accident. We’ve driven happy families and kind friends and wet dogs. We’ve (accidentally) ran a stop sign (or two). We’ve had flat tires and worn shocks and a broken air conditioner. We’ve run out of gas and gotten lost and found new roads we’d never seen before. And even though you might be a little worn down. Even though you might eat CD’s now and make that weird clicking noise when we’re stopped at red lights, I know you still have a lot of life in you.

I know we still have many miles to go, many places to see and many people to meet, and so today, I wish you happy 100,000th, my friend. May your tank always be full (even though I know I usually wait until the last minute and I’m sorry) and your oil always be fresh (which, now that I think about it, I should probably check…)

Here’s looking at you, kid. Here’s to another 100,000.

Spring Break Road Trip (Day 4 & 5: Bend)

Sweet, sweet, Bend. You are cold, but you are a place. People love you. People! You have people. And houses. And food. Oh Bend, I love you.

On Sunday morning Allison, my sister and I got up slow and made our way over to have brunch, which proved to be nothing short of a gift from God. We went to Jackson’s Corner, a local treasure, and I ordered “The Cristo” which is essentially a French Toast sandwich made of dreams and fairy dust, and a big ole pint of milk because: strong bones.

From there we headed to Cascade Distillery, which is located in the neighboring town of Sisters, where we proceeded to try just about everything they had in a very small amount of time, leaving us all feeling relaxed and warm and thankful for one another.

Tip: if you ever find yourself at the Cascade Distillery, tell them Kim sent you. They’ll probably say Kim, who? And then you can tell them about this blog post and Kim, the person who wrote it, which probably won’t ring any bells with them, because I don’t think I even told the guy my name. Then, after you realized I’ve completely pranked you, order the Wild Roots Raspberry Vodka with cream soda, it’s the best drink I’ve ever had in my life.

For the rest of the day, we did nothing short of living. On the way home from the distillery, as we all collectively frowned at the grey, rainy skies, we decided to flip mother nature the bird and have a great day with a tropical twist. We stopped at the store and got junk food, cranberry and pineapple juice, and Malibu rum, then spent the rest of the afternoon drinking, playing board games and laughing loud and hard.

That night, we went to Deschutes Brewery for dinner (where I’d highly recommend the pretzel and the 3-cheese pizza) and then headed back to the house to watch a movie. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that after dinner we all felt a little fat and bloated and kind of regretful, but mostly just happy and 100% willing to do it all over again.

The next morning had a little bit of an earlier start. Unlike my sister and I who were playing hookie for the remainder of the week, Allison had to work, so we headed over to Strictly Organic, a local coffee shop chain, to film a segment for the daytime talk show she produces.

Every Tuesday, they have a segment on the show where they interview customers in the coffee shop, in the hopes of getting a taste of the diverse population of Bend. They tape the segment on Mondays, and since we happened to be in town, my sister got to be one of the interviewees.

Here she is having a totally miserable time making her television debut:

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It was super fun! Much more of a casual conversation rather than a stiff on-camera interview, so if you ever happen to be in Bend and have an adorable blonde with a headset come up and ask if you want to be interviewed for Central Oregon Daily, say yes! You won’t regret it.

Once we were wrapped (yeah, I know TV terms), the three of us headed over to another local favorite: Sparrow Bakery. It was packed, which is always an encouraging sign for a first timer, and lived up to the hype. I ordered an Ocean Roll, which is arguably the best pastry I’ve ever eaten, and had a girl walk up to me just to say, “you look great today!” So even though it was only 9:45, with carbs and a compliment bubbling through my veins, I already knew it was going to be a great day.

Just before lunchtime, while Allison was hard at work preparing for the 3pm show taping, Natalee and I took the time to hike Pilot Butte. It’s nothing special, just a mile and half of breathing fresh, central Oregon air, with a 360-degree view of its beauty from the top, no big deal.

Here I am totally wishing I wasn’t looking out at this majestic part of the world:

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At 3 o’clock, we came back to watch Allison’s show (which she crushed) and then headed home around 4:30 for some solid lounging.

Tip: The Pacifier is currently on Netflix. If you haven’t seen it, see it. If you have seen it and (like us) have forgotten how incredible it is, go watch it.

For dinner, we went to a place called “The Lot” which is a collection of delectable food trucks and a tented, heated-bench, seating area. We spent about 30 minutes devouring pad thai from “Thailandia”, all hinting but not expressing how sad it was that we were leaving the next day. But rather than harp on what was to come, we enjoyed what we had now, which proved to make the sting the slightest bit duller.

Dotting My I’s Like Valerie

My handwriting is garbage. There’s no two ways about it. It’s this weird cursive/printing hybrid that generally only makes sense to me. Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time someone said “what does this say?” I wouldn’t be on such a tight budget.

When I was middle school, I sat next to this girl named Valerie in English. She had long black hair that was always in a braid and I thought she was the most hilarious person in the school. She also had incredible handwriting. We’re talking perfectly spaced, perfectly dotted I’s and perfectly crossed t’s, and her margin awareness was off the charts. As a result, Valerie constantly received compliments, especially from our teacher, which, even though I understood why, I couldn’t shake the jealousy.

Looking back at it now, it makes total sense. I had no idea who I really was, or that going through all middle school entails would make the quest to find that out 100 times harder, so what I did should not come as much of a surprise: I copied Valerie’s handwriting.

Completely.

I mean every curve, every space, every shape of every letter. My hand became her hand and I was ecstatic. That is…until my teacher sat me down and accused me of plagiarizing and/or making Valerie do my homework for me, immediately causing me to break down and cry.

“OF COURSE NOT,” I cried desperately to my teacher, and while she believed me (both out of necessity because I was snot crying on one of her desks, and because I took out a pen and physically showed her how I’d began mimicking Valerie’s handwriting) she still shook her head.

“Why would you want to do that? Your own handwriting is lovely,” she said.

Granted, this was clearly a lie, my handwriting has never been and never will be lovely, but regardless, the lesson stuck with me.

Over the years, I’ve thought of it many times as I’ve struggled with accepting the way I do things compared to how others do them, be it doing my makeup, styling my hair, laughing or writing a blog. Because even though my way might not seem as incredible or admired as others, it’s the way I know, and the way people can recognize me, the real me, and when I look at it that way, I suppose it is lovely.