You better call Edco.

My truck hit 200,000 miles on the way back from Albuquerque. Unfortunately, I was too distracted by construction to remember to take a picture.

In the almost 9 years I’ve had her, Joan Rivers has seen 2 oceans, 2 countries, 17 states, 2 provinces, 3 of the Great Lakes, the mighty Mississippi 4 times, countless oil changes, one entirely new front end, 2 additional new bumpers, 3 radiators, 4 batteries, 4 brake jobs, 5 new sets of tires helped move too many people to name. I normally get about 300 miles per a tank of gas, so dividing that by 200,000, then multiplying an average price of $27 for a tank of gas (and that's probably low-balling it), it means I've spent $18,000 on gas for her. Dear Lord.






Here's to my ultimate highway companion. And to her amazing ability to keep me safe, warm and out of trouble.

The flood is here.

Everything will change.

Kyle and I are taking a hiatus. It’s no one’s fault, no one’s mad, and I know deep down, it’s the right decision for both of us. I’m trying to be as rational as possible, but all in all, it’s absolutely heartbreaking. That’s the hard thing about your heart; it’s pathetic at being logical. It's the sort of thing I'm keeping close, and not on a blog.

I spent last week in Albuquerque, remembering all the things I missed; summer nights with Ashley and Joel, the smell after a thunderstorm, Jennifer’s garden, Daniel’s giant bear hugs, potatoes from Olympia, Kate nachos, Maria’s tolerance for drunk people (Lord Calvert, you and me are officially over.), the mountains, Kyle Anaya’s off-color wisdom, the amount of discretion over marijuana usage (NONE), the accent and about a million more things. I sobbed and sobbed when I left. Felt like I left behind a lot more this time.

And back in Oklahoma, I got offered another job I can’t blog about. But it’s been a mess trying to get everything in order for it. I had to get my own background check. Also, the pay schedule is screwy, so I’ll still be dirt-poor for a while. I have to remember this is a job, not a career; a paycheck, not my life.

In my hotel room, I'm wondering if you read that story too. And if we both might be having the same imaginary conversation.

They're all equal.

Continuing battles with unemployment make me somber. But today, happiness was brought via phone line. First in the form of text message updates and announcements of the birth of Drayson Matthew Mora, to proud parents Jason "Skittles" and Everetta Mora. Those kids (and I shouldn't call them kids anymore) were two of my nearest and dearest high school comrades; Skittles being my senior year prom date and Everetta being the only reason I passed Calculus.


Cat n' Skittles, circa '03.

And while I continuously battle with my own struggle to grow up, those two have seemed to have accomplished it flawlessly; degrees behind them, careers in front of them, and now the great adventure of parenting. I can't think of two finer people for that adventure. They're proof that every once in a while, your first love is your best love. Cheers to them and in Skittles' own words, "truly epic".

Also from the phone: Me and Chesley huddled around her phone, on speaker, and heard glorious news about a dear friend of ours taking the all-too important step of the first kiss with a new lady. We both felt like proud mama bears, sending our cub into the big scary world of dating.

And one more phone thing; text message I sent Maria on Friday night: "I may or may not be at a strip club. But I probably am."

So, phone, don't let me down tomorrow when I call unemployment AGAIN and try to get crap straightened out. I'd really like to get home, if only for a few days.

The man in the mirror.

So few artists ever truly perfect their craft. Michael Jackson did that, when he was only 10 years old. He perfected it and then he re-wrote the book on how to do it. I'm glad that people seem to be celebrating his life, instead of mourning his loss. I hope that somewhere in the midwest, there's a drive-in theater being haunted by a newly-minted but extra fabulous dancing zombie.

I had an interview on Wednesday and if I get the job, it's certainly another one I won't be able to blog about. One of my interview questions was, "Please define confidentiality." Well, that probably doesn't include blogging. But, I felt like it went well. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Update on just how intelligent New Mexico Unemployment is: They have my name spelled Katherine, and I've spelled it 3 times for them. This is also printed on the debit card they sent me yesterday. Sigh. They also have the street I live on as Brookeline. Yeah, there's no 'e' in there. I guess that's my own fault for telling the lady it's spelled exactly as it sounds. Tell me dear Kyle, exactly what sound does the 'e' make in Brookeline?

Kick start my rock and roll heart.

I never looked at moving to Oklahoma as starting over. When you start over, it seems to insinuate there was something you needed to start over from, some sort of trauma that led up to a decision that you needed a clean break, a new change of pace. Like you needed it.

I didn’t need to leave New Mexico. I didn’t need Oklahoma. I was so perfectly happy there. Tom and me had a lot of conversations about it. I told him, “If you can’t be happy at home, then you won’t be happy anywhere else”. I wanted to leave Albuquerque so badly after the fire. But I think there were reasons I stayed as long as I did. I didn’t want to leave resenting my home. I needed to stay there, as painful as it was, to make peace with what happened. In April, I left Albuquerque fearing that I actually broke its heart, it never broke mine.

Oklahoma felt like a natural change, since I’d talked about doing it for so long. This move made sense; I finally figured out what I wanted to go back to school for, there was a great anthropology program at a state school with amazing funding, a room with a roommate, and it was within driving distance to home. I know a lot of people had a hard time seeing the logic in it, but I never did.

For about the first month, I was a little shocked by how I didn’t miss Albuquerque. Maybe I was just caught up in the glamour of being somewhere new and exciting, but I didn’t really feel any kind of true loss. It wasn’t real. But now that I’m settled in, the panic over money and more importantly, the panic over if I made the right decision is overwhelming. It feel like life’s on a giant pause button and I’m terrified to push play. I feel like 2009 will go down as The Lost Year. Being away from home and all the people I love, has opened up these pits of void I never knew I had.

It gets tempting to want to fill those voids with whatever you can. Everyone does it. Because if you successfully fill up that hole with something else, it’s like it was never there. But, I don’t want to replace anything, I don’t want to replace home. I’m trying as hard as I can to keep everything, even that feeling of loss, and gain new things, new perspectives, instead. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, you can’t replace what you’ve lost. I think I learned that long before I moved. There will never be another Golden West, I’ll never find another dog like Annie, I’ll never get in another visit to my grandfather in Little Ferry and I’ll never find a better way to spend a Sunday morning than with Kyle and a #6 from Twisters. Luckily, I can still get that last one.

Things here aren’t horrible. I’m not miserable being here. That’s not what this is about. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, there’s nothing wrong with missing home. Me and Oklahoma have been having some fun times, be it sometimes too much fun. I’ve met some quality folks here. And I’ve still got possibility. And that’s enough to keep me going for years.

When I first moved to Albuquerque, I don’t think Jimmy Eat World’s Bleed American left my CD player for a solid month. And every time I heard The Middle, I’d cry a bit. And that doesn’t embarrass me one bit. That album is absolutely incredible, no way to question it. The other night me and Chelsey went for a drive around Lake Hefner; ended up parking the truck on the west shore, watching city lights and drinking beers. While listening to that CD. And it turns out…

Even at 25,
You gotta start sometime.

I’m on my feet I’m on the floor I’m good to go.
Now all I need is just to hear a song I know.
I wanna always feel like part of this was mine.
I wanna fall in love (with Oklahoma City) tonight.

Don't let me down.

The truth is.

Still poor, still jobless, still without unemployment, still miss home. But, Chelsey and I did a monster grocery shopping yesterday, so I don't have to eat Ramen and beans anymore. I have a job interview on Wednesday and a merit test to take for another one on Monday.


And Kyle still loves me. He sent me New Mexico and the capability to make amazing breakfast burritos.


Burrito slop. I had an amazing dinner last night.


Over Stars and Gutters, Matt's band, released a CD on Thursday. More importantly, he got a haircut. And even though I spent 4 hours yesterday in 95 degree heat trying to jump start his truck, me and Chelsey still love him.


We also love Jerry Jump, the drummer for Over Stars and Gutters.

And other than that, life continues on as normal. I've got a cantaloupe I'm very excited about eating.