One Dish At A Time, Sweet Jesus

I've gotten so used to blogging on a near-daily basis, that when I don't approach my computer with some story or event, I feel disappointed. I guess all this 2-job (3 for Beau) constantly-working thing has made me un-bloggable since the quirky experiences have dried up from my life. Sure, I could talk about the ogre in the office at my day job or the unendingly migraine-inducing teenagers at Shop-n-Smile, but nothing can top the Fart story I told awhile back, alas. You could say a "true" writer would find something to write about the most minute details of life. *stares at stack of papers on desk* Oh well.

I IM'd with a friend from the mud last night, and after it was over realized I had nothing good to say about Beau's life, my life, or our life. This then got me depressed. I try to keep the "my life sucks" blogs to a minimum, but then, I'm running out of blog fodder, so some of it will have to ooze out here and there.

Good news: The constant working has put money into our bank accounts. Since I've been a lifetime paycheck to paycheck girl (thank you, student loans!), I feel suddenly flush. Beau feels the opposite, since he's used to having a bit more in the bank, "just in case." And, since shopping gives me an almost crack-addict pleasure nowadays, I have been spastically shopping while simultaneously working at Shop-n-Smile. The thing is, I work in Domestics and Housewares, and since these are the very items we lacked when we moved here (furniture, towels, sheets, kitchenware, utensils, pots and pans, dishes, etc.), every time I work, I basically shop. As I troll around with my cart, here and there I place something in the cart to be purchased later.

My method is to do things in pieces. For example, we have one very nice dish set at our store. Not the icky Corelle stuff, but good quality, nice-looking stuff, which is something I do like about our store. We'll have the cheapie, crappie towels when you just need a 2-dollar towel, but we also have the $15, so-soft-you-wanna-sink-into-it-and-die towels as well, and everything in between. So, since I am determined to finally, for the first time in my life, NOT stock my home with Goodwill furniture and mismatched, handed down plates, I am trying to get some decent, matching stuff. Well, as decent as is reasonable, and even the top of the line Shop-n-Smile stuff isn't that expensive. So, I wait 'til it goes on sale (which is frequently), and then, on a Monday shift, I'll buy a plate. Just one. And a cloth napkin. And maybe a vegetable peeler.

I'm also determined to make a home. When I was a freshman in undergrad, I was the only one with the flowered comforter, posters and pictures on the wall, and other "decorations." I noticed that my friends started to gather in my room, and hang out there. They said, "It just feels nicer here, there's things on your walls, it's comfortable." I think it also had something to do with the fact that I didn't freak when a drunken, morose friend knocked at my door at 3am to talk (I don't think I'd be as understanding now). So, I learned a lesson -- what you do with your place makes a difference, even if it's a tiny dorm room. It affects how you feel when you're there, and as we all know, our home is our sanctuary. In addition, since adjusting to Missoula has been tough for me, and even tougher for Beau, I really want to make our place look like a home and not some apartment we're renting for now. It helps with the mindset. And I'm for anything that helps.

So, the following Wednesday when I work, I'll buy a bowl, and placemat. Maybe even that pillow that's on sale for $5.49, marked down from $14.99. It cracks up the Shop-n-Smile staff to see me approach the counter with my cornucopia of single items each night. "How can you afford to work here?" asked one woman. "It kinda pays for itself. My day job pays for the rest," I say.

And every night I come home with one shopping bag. I think it both drives Beau crazy and makes him happy. He hates to spend any money, but I think he likes what I'm doing, he just doesn't want to encourage it too much, especially on the nights I come grunting up the stairs, hauling a 45lb boxed bookcase - a nice one, several steps up from my Sauder days, that'll take us about three hours to put together, us both laughing and snapping at each other throughout the process.

Yesterday, I put together the large and beautiful dining room table I had purchased (on sale + my store discount, woo!), to go with the accompanying bench I had purchased a couple weeks before (the two accompanying chairs will eventually join us, for now it's the folding table chairs). I placed the placemats, napkins, napkin holder, plates, cups, and candle holders I had also accumulated over the past few months on the table as well as one of my nice table runners (I have a thing for table runners) and waited for Beau to come home from work. I've never actually owned a dining room table before, though I briefly had use of my dead great-grandmother's mini-set for a time years back. It felt pretty good to have something of my (our) own that was new, nice-looking, decent quality, and real. The place is slowly coming together, one dish at a time.

"Now, watch we end up moving back to New Zealand," Beau says.

Buzzkiller.