I’m sitting in my living room tonight, watching the sun fade into steely blue over the tops of the trees. I’ve got Greg Brown playing on my laptop and the room is warm, lit by my new retro ‘70s lamp on loan from the landlady. My couch is brown velveteen with red and beige flowers, a loveseat really, of an indeterminate old age. It is very comfortable. I have a chair, too, a fat black one with grey diamonds in the upholstery and gold plastic trim. It is undeniably ‘80s, so much so that it will probably never come back into fashion. I’m going to cover it with fabric soon. The carpet is brown-and-beige vintage shag. It doesn’t look as bad in the evenings, really, but I’ve got my eye on a wool rug in gorgeous cochineal red for the floor. It won’t cover it all, but it’ll help. I have a really fantastic wooden ammunition box that I got at a yard sale and it sits against the wall. The walls are white and they have a few strange pieces of art, also courtesy of the landlady. I think that I will make some drawings to go up instead.
I’ve got a nice coat closet behind the door and a small built-in bookshelf. I didn’t bring many books out, having had a very full car, so it is lined with candles, pictures, a few of my small masonite paintings, and a New Hampshire motorcycle license plate. My trunk sits over there, too – my magenta one, all covered in stickers. My bike lives in this room – it’s the only place I can keep it safe and dry, so once winter hits I’ll tuck it behind my loveseat. I’m hoping to get out and bike a bit tomorrow; there’s a street festival, the October Faire, happening downtown and the weather looks to be lovely. My landlady is having a big warehouse yard sale and I desperately want a desk for my laptop and my craft supplies and (after Christmas) my sewing machine.
The kitchen is coming along – I’ve started stocking the cabinets and the counter is lined with a glass jar of wooden spoons, a row of dry grains in small glass jars, a lamp, a big blue bowl, and on the other side, my herbs and cookbooks. I only brought 3 out with me. I’m bringing more at Christmas. I bought a wall hanging that’s part mirror, part beer art: Rainier Beer, Mountain Fresh. I talked to Helen on the phone tonight for a long time, and she told me about all the new recipes she’s trying now that she is living alone in her own small apartment in Burlington. It got me excited to start plowing through my own cookbooks and especially bread-baking – I already bought bread flour, whole wheat pastry flour, and my beloved King Arthur all-purpose, along with a jumbo bag of yeast, some good sea salt, brown sugar, and honey.
There’s a small grocery store no more than a 5-minute bike ride from my house that specializes in organic food. It’s small, and there’s not much in the way of fresh produce, but they have the important stuff: big yogurt, bulk grains and spices, Annie’s, frozen goods, and, of course, Panda licorice. They also take food stamps. I signed up for food stamps today. I felt a bit funny about it at first – after all, I do have a job and a bit of savings. But my stipend is far below the poverty level and over half of that paycheck goes to rent and utilities each month. The second-year RARE participants with whom I spoke all recommended it, said it was a huge help and kept them afloat, so today there is an Oregon Trail debit card in my wallet that will give me the money I need for food each month. My caseworker was friendly and matter-of-fact and seemed to enjoy telling me about the community and her own experience with AmeriCorps (she was once a VISTA). I’d worried that she would look at me strangely for doing what I’m doing, taking a random job for almost no money in a remote corner of a state so far away from home, but she didn’t. She was great, and I left feeling like I had a friend, or at least an ally, in this new place.
My bedroom is not quite friendly yet. It’s the hardest space to work with, layout-wise, and so far all I’ve done is put in my favorite easy chair (rust-orange corduroy velour), fill the big closet, and stick my narrow bed against the back window. I bought a lovely hanging ivy and a basket for it to hang in. The carpet in there is actually worse than in the living room, as it’s that industrial-type stiff stuff in a heathery grey-brown that looks like it belongs in a dorm. I’m going to have to get (or make?) a good rug for it. I’m going to hang up my license plates and make my pale green sari into a curtain across the front of my bed. My bathroom is in here too – and the sink’s in the bedroom. I’d like to get a folding screen for it so that it’s not the first thing you see when you enter, but I haven’t found one yet. The lino in my bathroom is sweet retro: olive and mustard curlicues, vaguely ethnic. I got a leafy bathroom rug to match.
Yesterday I discovered that while this town doesn’t have any true hippie liberal wonderlands like the Upper Valley Co-op or the Kiva in Eugene, it DOES have Grocery Outlet. Not only does Grocery Outlet have a big rainbow on its sign, it also has really cool organic products – at cut rates. I fully outfitted my bathroom with jumbo-size bottles of organic hair stuff for less than half of what I saw the same product for at the Co-op. I also got, randomly, some organic pomegranate juice and a carton of corn chowder, and I saw several varieties of Ben & Jerry’s for under $2. I think they take food stamps too! There are also 2 different $1 stores and they are both fantastic and I have already made several happy impulse purchases (sturdy glass jars in which to hold my dry grains, a set of 4 heavy beer glasses from which to drink, etc). The liquor store had gin that is distilled in Bend. I will tell you if it’s any good.
I think I’m the only gin-lover in the RARE social group. Everyone seems pretty down with good beer though, which is fine by me. We talked at orientation of ambitious group trips – rafting, backpacking, snowshoeing, summiting Mt. Hood, skiing, parties, weekend get-togethers – and I hope that at least a few of them come to fruition. One of the girls, Katie, is doing the same thing I’m doing (disaster mitigation) just in a different county. She is the nearest friend I have right now (3 hours away) and I think that we will definitely do some hiking and snowshoeing – the Steens are in between our respective counties, so we can meet in the middle. She also owns a kiln.
I’ve gotten my mandolin out and tuned it. I love the sounds it makes and I’m re-learning all that I forgot. Hopefully I can get some good finger calluses going soon. I need to cut my nails. I got used to having long nails back home where that’s what a lady does – she keeps her nails long, shaped, and polished. Out here it’s back to short and useful for me. If I get good enough, I’ll bring the mando to RARE events and I can jam with Marc, who plays some great guitar. That might take a while, though. I’m starting from square one. A bunch of us sat outside one night at orientation in a dark nighttime circle with a big, furry, smelly, lovey-dovey husky at our feet, listening to him play.
This apartment is a good place to be alone, I think. It is becoming warm and comfortable and I am starting to feel like it is home. It’s strange to realize how few demands there are upon my time and that there’s no one down the hall or street to chill with. It’s just me, here, on my soft brown couch, starting over yet again.
