Pins and Needles

Patience has never been one of my virtues. I am all about efficiency. Additionally, I am a person who desires clarity, stability, and a clear plan.

God likes to challenge these areas of weakness in my life, on a regular basis.

Case in point: moving. I decided a few months ago that I would move out of my parents' home, where I have been living for six years, to join in the adventure of living and/or owning a home with my wonderful friend Melissa. I joined my fate to that of the fabulous Petersen gals and sifted through house listings on ZipRealty and rental properties on craigslist, yahoo, msn, and any other site I could find. After some disappointments and deciding to rent now, buy later, we found what seemed to be a great place north of Greenlake. We applied on a Thursday; the owners said they would let us know the following Wednesday.

I did okay until about Monday. People started to ask if we had heard yet. No, we won't know until Wednesday, I would say. Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday, was my constant reply. We're really excited, I would say. Pray for us, we really want this house. I'll let you know as soon as we hear on Wednesday.

Wednesday came. I sat at work with my cell phone next to my laptop, which had my gmail up all day. And I waited. My coworker in the cubicle next to me kept poking her head over, asking if I had heard yet. Not yet, I said. Give it time, I said. All day I waited. Maybe they won't call until after work, I said. Five o'clock came. Six o'clock. I started to wonder if I should email them. Seven o'clock. Nothing. I chatted with Melissa and she said to wait until the morning. Still nothing. I watched a movie. Still no email. My phone rang-it was Rachael, asking if we had heard about the house. No, we haven't heard. I am still on pins and needles.

I went to sleep with no answers.

Thursday morning came. I woke up and the first thing I did was check my email. Four emails. None from the owners of our desired abode. I crafted a light, happy, we-really-want-you-to-rent-to-us email and sent it. Got in the shower. Got out of the shower. Checked email. No word. Went to work. Setup the cell phone and gmail as the day before. Explained to coworker that no, we still had no answer. Reminded myself that a watched pot never boils, and that God must simply be teaching me to relax and rely on Him for my fulfillment. Yelled at God a little internally. Bounced up and down in my chair. Took a walk around the floor to calm down. Repeated to myself, "patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue. This is good for you." Reasoned out why they were not calling-they had been out of town, were exhausted and busy. Had trouble getting ahold of the credit bureau to see my and Melissa's insanely awesome credit scores. Lost the application. Needed to pray about it more. Were getting a sadistic pleasure out of making me wait.

Oh, no, not that one. That's not reasonable. We are going for reasonable here.

I started to chide myself for being so neurotic as to freak out over a few more hours of waiting. Inbox showed one new email-a sale at Chico's. I don't need any more clothes right now, I need to know if I can move the stuff I have. I started to write this blog, deciding that no matter the outcome, I could at least make fun of my neurosis. Another email: Allrecipes. I don't care about Kevin's teriyaki recipe, I thought, I just want to know if I get to live on Densmore! Drank some tea since I had already had multiple cups of coffee. Researched some stocks. Johnson & Johnson-to buy or not to buy? S&P says buy, I say I want to pay first and last and deposit instead.

My boss finally gets to work and so I end up spending the next hour or two in his office. I wander back to my desk, and there it is-the reply to my email. I open it in breathless anticipation and...

They haven't made a decision.

All of my reasoning is true: they got back late from travels, haven't completed the background check. They will let us know by tomorrow. Afternoon. Ahhhhh!

I email Melissa, explaining that I might implode. I pound out a little frustration on my desk. And I remind myself to breathe. In and out. Not a big deal. Not a no, just a not yet.

Like so many other things in my life.

Perhaps someday I will get over this tendency to freak out and live in stress while waiting for answers. But today, I just know that I will be sleeping on pins and needles again tonight.

Oy vey.

Alone In The Kitchen With A Zucchini

It is an interesting thing to cook for one's self. Growing up, I cooked a lot, but it was never for less than five people, the majority of the diners being male and hungry. This gave me a lot of experience in cooking large, satisfying meals. Cooking alone, however, is it's own special breed of experience.

I am actually a pretty good cook. My cookies are legendary, my macaroni and cheese has been praised at several potlucks (this ain't no blue-box shtuff here). Also, you haven't lived until you have eaten my chicken tetrazzini. My ex-boyfriend might have had his faults, but even he knew that this stuff deserved three helpings.

Of course, I also seem to have fabulously awful experiences in the kitchen. Like tonight, when I dumped an entire pot of pasta down the sink while draining it. Invariably burners have smoky burning episodes when I cook on them. And of course, my mom will always be able to say to me, "remember that time when you put in tablespoons of baking soda instead of teaspoons of baking soda and the banana bread exploded in the oven?"

Tonight I found myself in the kitchen cooking a fabulous improvised recipe involving bacon, zucchini, pasta, and asiago. Barring the episode with the sink, it turned out pretty well. Next time I might try to add a cream sauce. But sauce felt too over the top when I was going to be the only enjoying the fruits of my labor. As satisfying as my dinner was, not cooking for or with other people felt like too much work.

I recently picked up a copy of Alone In The Kitchen With An Eggplant, a book of essays on "cooking for one and dining alone." While this might seem a depressing premise for a book, it is actually quite enjoyable (and the authors even include recipes! It's like two books for one!). The myriad authors were both self-deprecating and fiercely independent, asserting their rights to prepare a five course meal for no one but themselves, while acknowledging the sinking feeling one gets when asked "table for one?"

I don't cook for myself much, usually there are brothers or friends around to be the recipients of my labors. But I do dine alone quite a bit. A couple of weeks ago I was given a gift card for Palomino that expired that night, and since I did need to get dinner out before I went to a meeting, and it was too late to find a friend to join me, I decided to go alone. It felt slightly indulgent to have a dish of pasta and a glass of wine all by myself, eating slowly while reading my book, overhearing bits of conversation from the loud parties around me. But it was also liberating to be secure enough in myself to not feel like I had to hide from my singleness, from my independence.

I suppose this eating alone thing has a layer of metaphor for my life: I am joyful in my single state, secure in the knowledge that I am a whole person all by my little lonesome. But sometimes I am also, well, lonesome. Desirous of company, a table for two. Wanting to cook for someone else.

I won't be cooking for just myself for too long-my housesitting gig will be up at the end of the week and then in a month or so, if all goes according to plan, I will be cooking for roommates. But I am sure there will still be nights when I will be alone in the house and I will have to decide: peanut butter and jelly, or cream sauce?

Q+Y=F

Attempting to interpret the motivations behinds a guy's actions is futile. While most (but not all) women tend to overanalyze every word and facial tic, most (but not all) men seem to communicate with reckless abandon. If they feel like flirting, they flirt. If they have a question, they ask it. They don't stop to think what a girl might intuit from them asking, "So, if a guy liked you, would you want him to ask you on a date or just ask to 'hang out'?"

Perhaps this is not their fault. Perhaps we would all be better off if we were guileless and uncalculating in our speech. Certainly it is better to say what you mean and then let your actions match your words. No one would ever read into anything you said, and you would never have to guess what someone meant. We would all just be honest, and when we wanted to say something, we would say it without fear of being misunderstood.

However, life does not work that way. Not only do you have to say what you mean, but you have to worry about whether the listener will hear what you mean. And interpretation in verbal communication, somewhat like literary analysis, is affected by the reader or listener's bias. The information possessed by the listener forms a framework by which they evaluate the statements made. If I know X, and friend says Y, I interpret it to mean X+Y=Z.

But what if X is incorrect? Or X is correct, but when friend says Y, he also knows W, which I am not aware of. And so, really, X+Y does equal Z, but X has to be multiplied by W, which makes Q, and Q+Y does not equal Z, but instead equals F.

Confused?

Me too.

Guys complain that girls are confusing. I think guys take the cake. But that might be because I am a girl.