it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift
You know what's cool? When you're laying in bed, listening to a song or an album you've listened to a million times before, and you're struck all over again with how brilliantly, amazingly, wonderfully good it is. That, my friends, is the sign of a band imbued with genius.

I went up to Seattle for my weekend to visit Shan, which was fun. We made some brief attempts at shopping, which were hampered by us taking the non-express (i.e. 35-minute) bus ride downtown. We had an entertaining dinner party with a bunch of her friends, including the aforementioned Nic. Much delicious food was eaten, many odd games from our pasts were played (which I suspect Nic enjoyed most, since he knew all the answers and thus had all the power), and I had this deeply bizarre small-world experience when I discovered that Shan's friend Eric is the son of one of my co-workers. We had to get up really early to play the "let's move Katie's car somewhere cheaper" game, but then we went back to bed. Seattle, though... Seattle freaks me out. I grew up in a small town, and Portland was familiar, because Portland was a place I went often. And Portland is not an intimidating city. It feels like a big suburb. But Seattle... Seattle is huge and crowded and loud and treeless. Just the sprawl of it all, the crush of cars as I drove in looking for my exit, made me want to run and hide. "I don't belong here," Shan told me. I wouldn't belong there, either. Good to know. For future reference. When I leave here...

Upon returning, I embarked on a Christmas tree odyssey. I now have a lovely little tree, approximately as tall as I am. I had this kind of embarrassing incident. I was sprawled on the floor in front of my open apartment door trying to hold the tree upright with one hand and tighten the screws on the stand with the other. My neighbor Pat, whom my landlady thinks I should marry despite his being about twice my age, happened to walk by and discover me about the time I was discovering the stand was too large for the somewhat scrawny trunk of my tree. He got a good laugh out of my predicament, but was able to solve my problem for free by providing some handy chunks of wood to fill the space. Now, here's another thing. When setting up a tree, there are two kinds of logic that may conflict. Logic 1: Set the tree up in the spot where you intend to leave it, thereby making a mess in that area, which might be bad if you have white carpet like me. Logic 2: Set up the tree in the spot where potential messes will be easiest to clean up; for example, the tile floor in front of the door. Now, my father has always opted for the latter logic, putting the tree in the stand in the garage and then carrying it inside and performing any necessary straightening. I followed this example, which presented me with a problem given the precarious state of my tree's verticality. However, leaving it in the middle of my hall wasn't the best option, so I had to scootch across the floor, dragging it behind me, all the way to the other side of the room.

Yes, actually, I do everything the hard way.

Anyway, it's now where it's supposed to be, complete with lights and the few ornaments I purchased at Target. Am in the process of making new ornaments out of Q-tips. I spent all my money on parking in Seattle.

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