hedgiewan: (digime)
Still boxes everywhere. Nowhere to put anything else. Please, no more loveseat? Also, does anyone want an ugly-but-relatively-functional sewing basket? How about a pair of khaki stretch corduroys from the Gap? They are ostensibly a 12L, but all my other 12L's fit me and these don't, so I would say more like a 10L. Also a three-drawer rubbermaid thingydo. It's white and about a foot cubed. How about onea' them double window-fans? Or, I don't know, some crap. Take it off my hands. Pleeeeease.

This one, Mom, I blame on you. If something is still useful to someone, I can't possibly throw it away. I can't even just put it out in the alley and hope someone will take it. Fuck, it took me two years just to get to the point where I could throw out plastic zipper bags, and that is mostly because I don't have a good way to dry them unless I wash a wooden spoon at the same time. I BLAME YOU.

Also, why does Medica send me these "explanation of benefit" letters every time I even think about going to the Dr? How much paper do I really need in my life?! Just for them to tell me that my health insurance is absolutely worthwhile, but that if I want to appeal their decision to pay for everything, I should call the number listed below.

Meg and Brixton and I were supposed to have knitting tonight, but I think I did more rows on the bus home than I did this evening. We got to Meg's about 7:30, got mauled by her "cat," and were informed that there was no food and she hadn't eaten and maybe we'd like to go to this new pub by her house. It's on Selby at Fairview, called the Blue Door, and they have excellent food, quite reasonably priced. But also, not a ton of room. Also also, big TV's set to the Twins game. So it took a hell of a long time for us to get a place to sit. But it's a nice place. They have juicy lucys made with bleu cheese and garlic. And beer-battered green beans. And "soup of the jour." Which is either funny or depressing.

I don't like the fact that my lips are already chapped, or that my skin has a white sheen from being too dry, or that we seem to have skipped "the sun sets at 8" in favor of "the sun sets at 7," but I love that I get to wear sweaters and sleep with my comforter and that the sumac on 94 has gone all glorious on us.

But I'm totally going to freeze my butt off in the Boundary Waters, because Dan and I are going again in 2.5 weeks. Brave or stupid? EP 16, Moose River N. Probably have to wade the whole river, but Nina Moose sounds good. We'll see how far we get from there. I think we're taking the canvas tent with the stove. Heated tent. FTW.

the hedge abides.

moving

Aug. 26th, 2008 11:12 am
hedgiewan: (Default)
I'm moving. Really far away.

No. Downstairs. But I would still really appreciate help schlepping, as I cannot carry a couch by myself. A lot of it is going to be "pack a box of kitchen stuff and unload it downstairs," so I don't need an army, but if you're available at all tomorrow, please give me a call and let me know your preferred form of bribery (i.e. booze and food preferences).

Oh, yeah, and I'm back from the BWCA. It was lovely, and I am feeling significantly better than I was a week and a half ago, when I hadn't had a day off of work for anything other than a migraine and an MCAT since July. So my back and legs are already beat from portaging (note to self and others: Morgan Lake Trail is not as flat as it appears on a map), but I'm perhaps a little more calm. But yeah, help lifting would be swell.

the hedge abides.
hedgiewan: (night launch)
Boy oh boy am I looking forward to my BWCA trip. Like none other.

We didn't get our permit in time to take the entry point we'd been planning, but we decided on a nearby point that seems quite rarely used (EP45, Morgan Lake). It's got a mile-long portage to put-in, with the first 10 rods or so apparently quite marshy (although there're some recent mentions of a newish boardwalk for that part). That should keep a lot of the riffraff out, and all subsequent portages are short and reputedly mild. I want to eat some trouts! Maybe I will get to. Even if I don't, I'll basically be going straight from my MCAT to the wilderness, which is going to be pretty surreal but is more or less exactly right. Squirrel me away in the wild where nobody will be too distressed by my insanity.

I keep wanting to do stuff. Like, hangouts. Movies. Irish Fairs. Dropping off baby-presents. Packing to move. Some things that really totally aren't necessary, but some things that rather are. Mostly just things that I am grumpy about not getting to do, on account of work (which I will be going to all weekend), and studying, which badly needs more of my attention. So I just sit here with a giant book, surly, and tell people to look me up come September. Make sure I'm still alive. And cognizant. But everything has such a pervasive finality. An absolutely false finality. I should go to knitting- it's my last chance!

No, wait. It's not. Not at all! What is going on here, brain-face? Maybe it is because Mya is moving to Boston? What is this I'm feeling? Is it pain? Panic? Hunger? Am I hungry? Who's hungry?

I'm going to go eat a muffin. A goosleberry muffin. That will solve... well. Something.

the hedge abides.
hedgiewan: (night launch)
I know some of you crazies are outdoors-inclined, so I ask of you, what is your favorite BWCA trip/entry point/part of a trip/thing to see?

Right now I'm looking at the Bower Trout Lake EP, but there aren't a ton of campsites around there. But maybe that's a good thing?

Input! Ready, set, go!

the hedge abides.
hedgiewan: (digime)
As some people may have noticed, based on the 14% increase in the "cute pink-haired girl" population (as opposed to the "shoddy pink dye-job girl" or "kawaiiiiii pink-haired girl" populations), I am back in the cities, slumming it in South Minneapolis. That is, until Monday, when I will be celebrating my quarter-century mark by avoiding almost all other human life up in the BWCAW.

But then I'll be in MN until I get sick of it and decide to apply for that job operating the sub-millimeter array at Mauna Kea. Suckers.

the hedge abides.

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