i know. i'm blushing.

You ever wonder if garbage truck drivers revel in the number of car alarms they set off, or if their trucks are too loud for even them to hear the carnage they leave behind? Cause I wonder that twice a week.

I’m feeling the urge for some Sunday evening quotes again. Too bad by the time I’m finally posting this, they’re not really “evening” quotes anymore… more like “ridiculously late Sunday night/early Monday morning” quotes. Ah well. Here are two that jumped out at me tonight as I fanned through my quote book.

I didn’t remember until just a minute ago that I quoted this E.M. Forster line in an old post on an old blog from what feels like an impossibly long time ago.  It seems appropriate that the same quote that affected me then—as I first started plowing through this funk—affects me now, years later, as I’m finally emerging from it. I have a very different feeling about it now, though. It’s somehow more comforting and less ominous than it was then.

Four random thoughts of the moment:

1. I never tire of Hint of Lime Tostitos.
2. My instructor cancelled lecture tonight, so I got home from school an hour and a half earlier than normal. Score.
3. Someone keeps parking in our spot. It doesn’t really matter because we have two parking spaces and only one car. And it doesn’t always bug me, but tonight it kind of did. When I pulled in (an hour and half early!), I saw that same red car parked in our spot and got out my pen. I wrote a note pointing out that we pay for the spot and would like it if they stopped parking there. But I chickened out and didn’t put it on their car. Sigh.
4. Lost. Tonight. Three hours! (Yes, I’m still watching and loving that. Isn’t anyone else?)

We found this cool place in Seattle called “Fainting Goat Gelato,” and as everyone knows, anything with goat in the title must be excellent. The word gelato doesn’t hurt either.

Needless to say, the goat rule of thumb didn’t let me down; it was excellent. Bryant got the fainting goat flavored gelato. Thankfully, it didn’t taste like goat… at least not what I imagine goat to taste like. It was made with goat milk and this funky dried berry/raisin-looking thing (though we can’t remember its name) from some Greek island (though we can’t remember which one), but the locals have this tradition that it possesses special healing properties. I’m not sure if Bryant felt healed after eating it, but he was in a pretty good mood. It tasted odd and delicious. I like when those two adjectives join forces. My stracciatella was delicious, too.

Anyone who wants to come visit us will get a trip to Fainting Goat. …What? You thought I was above bribery?

Also, as we were walking down the street and fattening up on our delicious dairy desserts, we saw THIS:

(Er… whatever it takes?)

and THIS:

I’ve found my new favorite street in Seattle. Just thought I’d pass that along.

I don’t know if it has something to do with Washington, or if it’s just a coincidence, but it seems like people have a much harder time with our name here than they did in Utah. It’s always an adventure to check the mail. Since moving here and setting up all our new utilities, phone service, and whatnot, we’ve gotten mail for:

• Richard Casteel (somehow Bryant’s phone got set up under his middle name)
• Brian Casteel (that’s what Bryant’s phone now thinks his name is, after trying to fix it)
• the Casteer family
• the Cestfield family

I can see that Casteer sounds pretty darn similar to Casteel, but Cestfield? Where’d that one come from? It’s Casteel, folks. C-A-S-T-E-E-L. I know it’s no “Anderson,” but it’s not rocket science either.

I’ve had this antsy itch lately. It’s a quiet but festering desire to be creative… to make something.

But I don’t know what.

Sometimes the thought crosses my mind, “Why don’t you knit something?” But I ignore that thought. My yarn, knitting needles, and partially finished projects are still sitting in an unopened box in the study. (I know, how long have we been in our new place and we still have unopened boxes? It’s a shame, but it’s definitely not a surprise!) There’s some mildly repellant force between me and that yarn box—like two positive sides of a magnet that push each other away. I don’t know what that’s about.

Sometimes the thought crosses my mind, “Why don’t you play piano?” And sometimes I actually do. I’m teaching myself a great new song. So far I can play the first page… at half the speed and with a millionth of the talent of Mr. Zimerman in that video there, but I’m still trying. The piano is fun, and it’s a great outlet, but even with my extra playing lately, I’m still getting this creative itch.

Sometimes the thought crosses my mind, “It’s the blog. You ought to blog more.” But clearly I haven’t been listening to that voice.

And sometimes the thought crosses my mind, “Aw quit your whining already. Just turn on the TV.”

And that, of course, is usually the thought that wins.

I’ve got this Excel spreadsheet on my desktop titled “moving list.” It’s a huge, exhaustive list of all the things we needed to do before we could move. It was long and daunting and usually overwhelming. During the past two months the file was nearly always open, waiting for me to check something else off the list.

Tonight I’m sitting here in my living room next to a dozen glowing tea lights in front of my ridiculously bushy (and free, and undecorated) Christmas tree. I’m here with my laptop on the floor, because we have to wait another four days before our belongings arrive, and for the first time in over a week, I noticed that Excel file on my desktop.

I opened the list to have a look and it suddenly struck me: the list is complete.

I’m amazed. Somehow we managed to get everything done/sold/cleaned/packed, get ourselves to Seattle, and get an apartment. Now we’re here. It almost feels like it was simple. How can that be? It felt so complicated at the time.

But here right now, it’s so peaceful. …Goodnight. Merry Christmas.

My incredibly generous and spontaneous sister surprised me yesterday with the best gift ever: a bunch of Christmas music waiting for me to pick it up at my local sheet music store. New piano music! One of my favorite things ever!

The thing that’s killing me: just minutes before she called to tell me about this gift, the movers finished tying down my piano in the storage POD outside my house.

I’m honestly considering untying the piano and playing right there in the middle of the street.

All I have to say is, we better find an apartment in Washington FAST, because I’ve got to get that piano unloaded before Christmas. Otherwise—and I don’t care what anyone says—I’ll be playing Christmas music loud and proud during whatever month we finally get an apartment.

I’ve got this list telling me I should be packing. There’s a big mound of empty boxes next to me, waiting to be filled. I’ve stacked them up into a (somewhat) orderly pile so they won’t be in our way. Maybe I shouldn’t have; they’re a little too easy to ignore when they’re out of the way.

Our stuff gets picked up and shipped to Washington this Friday. We hit the road Saturday morning. I’ve gone over the schedule so many times that it’s almost lost its realness. It’s as if I’m just telling a story.

I can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like to arrive in our new city. Our little home in Salt Lake City will be behind us for good.

I woke up this morning to a bird outside my window. I love when that happens. I lay there in bed and listened to it chattering away. It was making all sorts of weird sounds, and it reminded me of one of my favorite youtube clips. It’s been a long time since I watched this, and it’s high time I saw it again. (I first saw this on my friend Alan’s blog almost a year ago, but I think it’s definitely worthy of reposting.)

Seriously, you’ll need to watch this to the end. And then probably a few more times from the top.

Amazing, no?!

PS. Can I tell you how much I hate the verbs “lay/laid/laying” and “lie/lay/lain.” I’m never sure if I’m using them properly, and I’m usually not. I just spent the last fifteen minutes digging through dictionaries and debating with my husband in an effort to figure out which word I should use up there at the top of this post. And it’s a good thing I did, ’cause I was wrong. (I had “laid.” It’s supposed to be “lay.” I think.) Sheesh. Who came up with this junk? And why do I care? If I ruled the world—or at least if I ruled the English language—they’d all be the same. Or at the very least, the past tense of one verb would NOT be the present tense of a different verb. Seriously.