Do Something Good Today: kiva.org

In January I made a promise to myself - no more gifts. I mean, we have a house full of stuff, we can barely fit already, and I'm really at a place in my life where I want less stuff. Less stuff means less waste, it means less cleaning, and more importantly, less junk. And for my friends, I'm going to try to follow the same rule and give you something you can use for the benefit of someone else.

This is what I sent to all of my friends on January 2:

Are you looking for an excuse to do good this year? Got some resolutions to give more? Well, rather than wait until the end of the year to send out a bunch of money, I've decided to start my year with a bang (and a plan) to lend money through Kiva.org. And I'm going to keep doing this all year long, and try to get more folks involved. Why? Because we have so much, and this is such a simple gesture.

Kiva.org is a non-profit that allows you to make a small 0% loan to low income entrepreneurs in the developing world (microfinance). We can help provide affordable working capital for the poor -- money to buy a sewing machine, livestock, etc. -- and empower them to earn their way out of poverty.

You know what's amazing about Kiva? It's how fast it's growing. At the end of last year I heard a speech by one of Kiva's founders about microfinance. I decided to take a look at their site to learn more. When you log in to Kiva, you can see the folks who have applied for loans - what they want to use the money for, where they are, their payment history - everything. They ask for so little, it's completely humbling to read. But the coolest thing is that after a few minutes, you can literally see the applicants loan requests filled and they move from the 'Need' column to the 'Active' column. I've sat for hours watching people come on to the list of applicants and roll off faster than I can loan them funds. It's thrilling and makes my skin tingle to think that there are enough people logging on and loaning money that sometimes you'll catch the system saying 'Congratulations, we've raised enough money to fill every application that's been submitted!' I've seen it once and nearly cried at what a beautiful thought that is.

Here are some stats from last week (New Year's week), for the skeptics:

• $794,525 loaned (over the holiday week, I saw this number at ~$950k - in a WEEK!)
• 786 businesses finished paying back loans (incidentally, the delinquency and default rates hover around 0. That's ZERO percent. Check it.)
• 1160 businesses were funded
• 11921 new lenders joined (NEW! NEW people loaning money, all at a minimum of $25 = ~$300000 last week alone from brand new people!)
• 3.5 hours to fully fund a business

Okay, this is enough from me. I'm done with my soapbox. Please, if you can and you're interested look at this. It's nifty cool, it's easy, and will make great presents this year (no waste, no junk, no 'giftrocity'). Good karma, you know?

Happy new year, everyone. Thanks for reading, and pass the word.

So far, I've made 6 loans and I've given 3 friends gift certificates on Kiva to get them started too. I've watched with excitement when my first loan was distributed and I proudly showed off my borrower's first payment back into the system. I can't tell you how amazing it makes me feel knowing that I can have this sort of impact.

There is a drawback, something quite unexpected I saw and felt in January - and I have to warn you about it because it's always a possibility. I had gone to the site to check on some stats when I saw a large number of journal recommendations for borrowers in Kenya. This was in the middle of the fighting there - chaos had descended on Nairobi and we were getting our first reports on kiva as to the impact. By the time I finished reading, I was exhausted and angry and crying. So many people who had asked for so little had everything taken - sometimes their houses were burned down, sometimes their businesses looted and burned, and on many, many occasions, the people were butchered, killed, or missing. The money had nothing to do with my anger. It was like I'd been present when we planted a tiny seedling, and now I saw that someone had come in and practically poisoned the earth so nothing would grow back. Everything these people had worked for was gone, and I felt as touched by it as I could a million miles away.

Check out my kiva page, and join in. Make a difference.

Give Thanks

Over the last two weeks, I've ben witness to a couple of remarkable transformations. One was very public, the other a little more private. But both were moving and gave me pause to think about the big things - family, friends, life, love and happiness.
The first was the death of a little girl from the Seattle area. Her name was Gloria Strauss. She'd been battling a particularly nasty form of cancer for four of her short twelve years - and the last six months her family allowed a reporter in to chronicle her battle. I picked up the thread in August when she'd fallen into a coma - and somehow I managed to read his blog entry every day since. I quietly asked around - others were reading about her too. It sounds voyeuristic, but she had such grace in the face of it all that it was a salve to all who peered in.
The second was the end of a friend's marriage. The last several months had been painful - I'd seen him bitterly angry, flippant, and mean-spirited. All at once within a few short weeks, his wife left. Left him and his two small kids. All of it. She had her reasons, as did he. And somehow, he's come out of it a little more thoughtful, not quite regretful, and full of wisdom one has only when living in that state. The further I get from that place, the more of that wisdom I fear I lose. But it turns out that it's not a momentary grace (there's that word again), but becomes part of you, it's in your bones and lives in every choice you make thereafter - even if you don't smart from the source anymore. And today when I spoke with him, I heard it in his voice - and it came back to me too. I came home, hugged the dogs, made sure Todd knew that I love him, and made dinner. And tomorrow I'll not be so earnest.

Going Back...

Well, the date's picked - and I'm going back to work. After taking a little more than a month off, I'm ready to go back to the (an) office and get back into a regular routine. I've loved having the time off and I spent a lot of time baking, cooking, and taking care of those little things I had not done for a while. But at the same time, I'd started to feel aimless, spending the day cooking randomly and snacking, not playing as much tennis as I wanted to, and showering intermittently! It's time to get back to making some cash, enjoying the challenges of work, and learning to budget time in our regular lives for those little things I've spent a month doing.
Yes, I'm going back to Redmond. But I'm going back on my terms, and with a long-term plan.

I Get It Now

After having Lucy for a week, I think I finally understand what it must be like for new parents (of babies, not just puppies). I always wondered how life changes so dramatically upon the arrival of a newborn - interests tossed aside, conversations about one thing only (the baby), and a noticeable decrease in grooming, cleaning, and acting like grown ups. I mean, I'm not stupid - I know kids take a huge amount of time and energy - but it's been so long since Grendel was a puppy that I had really forgotten some of the challenges of taking care of something completely dependent on you for food, shelter, and manners.

Don't get me wrong, Lucy's been a great dog. Better than either of us expected, I think. She's smart, energetic, and incredibly sweet. But she's a puppy and she does need constant supervision - and unlike Grendel, who even at 4 months was relatively calm - she is always (and I mean ALWAYS) moving. That means from the time we wake up until the time we go to bed, we know where she is, what she's doing, and what she has in her mouth. It also means we're on full-time - she's always watching, learning, absorbing, responding, and behaving in response. We have to respond to her carefully to set good precedent, to make sure we're being clear with instructions, not to confuse or punish her, but to encourage good behavior.

It also means that we work in shifts - when one of us needs a shower, the other watches both dogs. One day last week that meant cleaning up after Lucy's accident, only to discover Grendel had peed all over the place in response. And feeding them at the same time? Grendel has special food for his skin, Lucy has high-fat puppy food, something old man Grendel doesn't need. Who likes what? She likes his, he likes hers.

So what am I trying to say here? Well, it's been 2 days since I had a shower, I have dog treat crumbs between my toes and I've just spent an entire post talking about one thing. I get it now.

Lucy's in the crate, Grendel's asleep. I'm going back to my vacation list of things to do!

Housecleaning

This week I cleaned house, for real and in my head.

After a lot of activity the last few weeks, I took a little time to clean out the stuff running around in that empty skull of mine. I'd seen some behavior from friends I wasn't too happy about and it made me think about my own manners, language and baggage. Turns out I can be sort of a judgmental shit, always on my high horse because of the path I've tread. All of that crap has been good character building kind of stuff, but everyone's tired of hearing about my horrible ex-husband and his departure and my selfish and thoughtless ex-boyfriend and his crack whores. If I can't ever let go of the things that have shaped the person I am, I will be held hostage by them. Respect for them, okay. But more time spent than that is waste.

So this weekend I gave up about 15lbs of guilt. Actually, it started with a conversation about egg plates and ended with me throwing away about 2000 pictures from about a dozen years of my life.
I'd been hanging onto pictures - perhaps thinking someday someone would want them - long after the stories in them had expired. Even my wedding dress had seen the inside of the dumpster three years ago, but the evidence remained threaded throughout my stuff. Out it went, in some ways as much for Todd as for me - and these last vestiges of the person I was then went too. I came home lighter, the welcome more welcome the kisses more ardent. The last of the boxes pulled from the dank flooded basement gone through and placed anew in a safe, lighted home.

Take a moment...

It's been raining for 27 days.

You'd think that's not such a big deal in Seattle, but it's actually a little unusual. Normally it's sort of drizzly and overcast, but it's been dark and cloudy for weeks now and the rain's come down hard. Pot holes have appeared, trees fallen over and venues sparse because folks are tired of going out drenched. Today was actually the first day I woke up and it wasn't raining - the sun's shining and the air is crisp. We got up and took the dog to the Magnuson park - off-leash heaven - and celebrated with all of the other cabin-fevered Seattlites by getting out in the mud. The dogs went nuts...mud everywhere with barking and frothing and humping from the biggest mastiff to the teacup chihuahuas. There was so much life in the park this morning, I almost cried at how happy the dog looked to be running at his own pace. And then there was this moment when I watched the dog walking alongside Todd - about 25 yards ahead - I watched them walk and play and the dog looked up at him, he looked back at me...and that was it. My dog, my shadow and my security standing with my guy, my hopes and my dreams. And I laughed at it all, the sweetness and the absurdity of such happiness.

But the sun comes out only briefly.

Just two days ago I was reading a friend's blog when I stumbled on writings about his father. His dad, a young 62 (just a few years older than my dad) was diagnosed with fronto temporal dementia (FTD) in May of 2004 - and is now no longer the person he once was. This is the first Christmas that he thought of it as being without his dad, because he sits in the room but is no more. He is like a shell of the person he once was, and if my friend listens closely he can almost hear the echoes of his voice in the hollow of his chest. His writing was powerful, the descriptions of his mother unforgettable. We talked about his dad for the first time the next day at work, and listening to him reflect on death gave me respect for the struggle his family faces daily. For all that medicine has given us, it rarely treats those most afflicted - the family.

In this state of mind I found myself at lunch with an old friend whom I hadn't seen in nearly 4 years. He too was facing similar struggles - his mother had a stroke 27 months ago and his father's dementia is like a prison sentence from which there is no release. He comes to work each day so he can afford to take care of them, but at about 6 hours he starts to worry that his father might have forgotten to feed his mother, or worse yet, that he's burned down the house. His only solace from this is Moon, the Golden Retriever his brother left him during a relocation to Hawaii - and I have no doubt that this fragile balance wouldn't be possible without that dog. None but he and the dog will escape, and even they too will succumb eventually. But for now he walks for the parents who cared for him as a child, the dog keeping watch on him.

Only two months ago I was wrapped up in living in New York, my sphere concerned with survival. It's been quiet these last weeks safe from the City, hearing things for the first time - the marvelous texture that has become my life, the privilege I have in the friends I keep, their experiences a borrowed perspective that shapes the person I will be.

'No-ing' when

I didn't always have a hard time with no. As a kid I was about as compliant as a kid gets - fastidious to a fault, never walking away from the chance to do homework, even working diligently as a child at my grandparents' restaurant. I never said no, and even more rarely was I ever told no - just because I was always so good at dotting the Is and crossing the Ts, it was hard to say no to me.

That didn't last. Or rather, let me say that didn't last into my 30s.

Today I have an excruciatingly hard time with no - even when it's not directed at me. Maybe that's because I spent 30 years saying yes - or saying nothing. There's got to be a clear reason, rational and thought-out, for no to be okay the first time through. You have to out-think me. In fact, anyone who's ever seen me work knows I work with two clear mantras: Unless you ask, the answer is no --and-- Silence is consent. Both are variations on the same thing - if you don't speak for yourself, you may not like what's coming to you, and in the spirit of self-determination, that's a shitty position to be in. (Ignore that dangling participle, won't you?) It goes along with my earlier post about being active in the choices of your life, that you have nothing to regret if you accept the choices that you made with clear conscience and in good faith.

But...no is a boundary I like to test. I don't relish pushing people in ways they can't go, but I like edging them in directions they won't go. I don't wake up every day thinking about pushing people - that would be arrogant and self righteous. But to be with me, to be my friend and to know me is to understand, in some ways, your own limits - and to work to expand them in whatever way you can. And this doesn't stop with you - I like to be pushed, I like running my hands over my armor until I find that weak underbelly, that soft spot - and then I dig in. Or I invite others to dig in. Is there a boundary there? Is there something undiscovered, a place even I don't know? And does discovering something new and fragile scare you more than it does me? Why?

I am not fearless, I know where my weakest armor is. I am a little afraid of my own reaction to protect those spaces, but I love and respect those people brave enough to go there and take me with them. It's never an easy path, but discovered it is a wonder to behold.

Once, twice, third time's a charm??!!

Do you ever have something happen over and over again? Either an activity you're forced to repeat for no apparent cause? Or a dream you keep having? Or a conversation with different people that covers the same topic each time?

First time's a fluke, you say. Or maybe the message is badly delivered and you get angry or defensive.

Second time's confusing - you thought you covered it the first time, fixed the problem, addressed it, changed behaviour - something. But you thought you'd learned something.

Third time? That's a pattern. Are you inflexible? Is there something happening around you that makes these things come up over and over? Is it you? Is it me? And how do you work on something you can't figure out? It might be so obvious to everyone else, but you just can't see it - for whatever reason? Do you give up? Do you accept it as fate, a character flaw, deja vu?

Out with the old...

Last night after cassoulet and many glasses of wine, I stood on the street with new friends watching fireworks and reflecting on the past year. One New Year's Eve tradition I hadn't seen before was the burning of old, taking in of new. Well, that's what I'm going to call it, for lack of a better term. Everyone gathered strips of paper and wrote things on them that they wanted to rid themselves of - anything from a bad habit to a bad job - and then we burned them, quite ceremoniously, in a recycled whole roasted tomato can. Afterwards, we all raised our glasses and thought about a thing we each wanted to happen for the next year - and then we drank it in, whatever was in our glasses and in our hearts. This is a very different approach to the new year - for me it had always been a pot of black-eyed peas, which signified luck and prosperity for the next year. But that seems to leave good and bad to chance. What I liked about burning and taking in was the fact that whatever was mine to burn and mine to have were mine - and my responsibility to make them happen. Chance is always a player, but less so here. So today I make no black-eyed peas. I'll enjoy the now day-old cassoulet, watching Spike Jonze videos while washing my laundry, thinking about what I need to do for myself to make my frosty-night dreams come true.

That begs the question - how, if at all, do I reflect on the last year? Do I have any regrets? Any missed opportunities? Anything I would change? And what did I burn?

Anyone who knows me knows the answer to this already, but if you don't know it let me say it now. I am the product of every experience I've ever had - good and bad - and I am so very happy with where I am today I can't possibly regret anything I've seen or done. Had I not had the experiences I had, I might not have ever made it to the place I am, either physically or emotionally. Would I do things differently? Next time, perhaps. But would I change anything if I could? No, never. A decision not made or made too late is a decision nonetheless, so whenever I'm faced with choice I know I must participate, otherwise I lose the right to fight. Everything is a choice, life is a choice. Being in it (or being afraid of it) is a choice, and no matter how bad some of the choices have been, I always learn from them. That's my responsibility.

So what does 2006 have in store for me?

Everything. Just wait and see.

But I'm not going to tell you what I burned or what I took in. That's too easy.

Facts in 20/20

Okay, okay. I get it.

So I speak the language of dead white guys. Who can fault me when I say that an amazing night is ended with the sound of the lark, rather than the cold clank of the radiator and the snoring of the dog? Thanks, all you Romeo and Juliet fans who caught the reference (none of you! shame!).

The 'he' in my last few posts has a name. So yes, I'm talking reality language here.
He is funny, sweet, warm, thoughtful, smart, earthy, and has a smile that lights me up.
He makes me feel so special, so adored, so natural.
Oh yeah, and he has the approval of my dog. Not just a 'yeah, you're okay,' but a 'hey, hey, looky who's here I'm gonna run to you and wag my rear end and not hump you or bother you when you're talking!' approval.

There are a thousand million things I want to do with him.
And I want everybody to know, everybody. Cuz man, oh man.

And so it is...just like you said it would be.

Life goes easy on me, most of the time.
- Damien Rice, The Blower's Daughter

Something happened. I'm trying desperately not to write about it because I'm absolutely terrified that if I do it will stop happening or I'll wake up or...I don't know. That somehow it will slip away, just disappear.

But then again, I want so badly to explain the smile, the sleepless nights, the why, why, why. Why you'll see me this week looking somehow different. Maybe it's the hair. Maybe the grin. Don't know. Maybe you won't notice at all.

Maybe you'll think it's because I moved. Or because the dog is healthy, or because the job is challenging and pays well and because it's beautiful here. Yes, it's all of those things.

Perhaps I'm afraid to say it aloud because I'll sound like a 16 year-old. Or because for all that I like to say that I don't care what others think (and I really don't), I'd hate to think that people think I'm flighty. Or easily swayed. I've always been the rock, the unwavering and steady, the reliable. The disaffected. Or maybe it's what I'd like everyone to think. That I don't need anyone, that I'm some sort of self-sustaining force of nature.

But someone cracked the code. It was a very simple code, I advertised it to anyone who would hear me, who'd listen. But few took me seriously, maybe most thought I wasn't really capable, willing, or soft. Or maybe it only mattered to others like me.

I don't know what to do here, it's been so very long since I've been here in this spot. I can't apply logic to this, or a timeline or anything of reason. And in matters like this, I don't have a very strong track record.

But I will try. Again. And again. Until there's no more air in my lungs, until the last shuffle in my chest. There is a fear and restless joy at being here, and not being here alone.

I will pour my soul into the cup for him to drink; he knows not what is possible.

Boys on Crack

Something else has been on my mind lately: I do wonder if there's not an epidemic sweeping the nation - this illness of being 'emotionally unavailable.' I can't tell you how many men I've met (sorry guys - prove me wrong when I say this) who describe themselves as emotionally fragile, unavailable, damaged, and otherwise not a good catch. Of course, it could be me - I tend to bring that sort of quality out in men (come on, boys - grow a pair!) - but I've seen so much of it lately I'm thinking about permanently spiking all of the water in my house with rye whiskey or something to put hair on the chest of the men who stop by. I can't decide which is worse - the phrase 'let's be friends' or 'I'm emotionally unavailable.' Maybe that's just an updated version of the same thing.

But, as if I needed a reminder as to why my last comment's really not such a big deal: yesterday I saw my first air-lightsaber battle in the hallway at the office, complete with sounds and dialog ("Luke, I AM your father!").

It's a Small World After All

Yes indeed, folks - Seattle is small.

So small that I've only been here a few days and it's like I never left. Well, except the whole 'older and wiser' attitude and funnier stories about New York. But here are some examples of what I mean...

- The anonymous guy who runs the barber shop around the corner waved and asked if I was back.
- The woman who runs 'Fini,' the coolest accessories shop in the world saw me 3 weeks ago and asked if I was back and if I brought my dog too.
- The two brothers at the pho place I used to go to in Redmond cheered when I walked in the door today and asked if I'd done something to my hair because it looked different.
- While at the grocery store in the fruits and vegetables section, a woman came up and offered me a sample of a cookie. She was an old friend who used to live in my apartment building from 5 years ago - and when the new gourmet grocery store opened near her place, she and her husband went to work there. It just happened to be the first grocery store I walked into.
- While walking Grendel I ran into the woman who used to cut my hair (and lived upstairs from me).
- Standing on the corner talking on the phone, I saw the subject of the 'How It All Went Down' post. Not sure if he recognized me, but I certainly saw him.

I only bring these up because I'm tickled by it - by being a part of the neighborhood, of the community - and even after having been gone for two years, it seems I'm still a part.

The Manhattan Project

Introduction
Ladies and Gentlemen - we have arrived at the results stage of this glorious project, and I'm happy to finally have something to report. As previously suggested by a lot of non-native New Yorkers, New York *is* in fact a nice place to visit, but (and I quote) 'I wouldn't want to live there.' As this experiment winds to an end, I wanted to share with you some of the things I have learned about the city and about myself.

Findings
- Bag searches aren't happening everywhere in the subway system, only at two stations. So the nice reporting that I'm sure our network news channels devote to how safe New York's transportation system is is a little lean on reality.
- 97 degrees with 90 percent humidity makes stale urine the most recognizable smell in town. Sweat is a close second. It also makes for daily rushes at the local hardware store for air conditioners, which have gone up in price nearly 75%.
- There are no stars over New York. At least none to be seen. But there are fireflies at dusk.
- Every movie you've ever heard might be coming soon opens in New York. There's certainly no shortage of choices at the theater when you pull out your $11 ticket and take a swig from your $5 bottled water.
- It's weird to turn on the Today show to see Al Roker report on the weather, knowing he's talking about *my* local weather.
- Liev Schreiber is very handsome and intense looking in person. And he rides a beat-up street bike that he parks against a light post like everyone else around here.
- The New York Times is responsible for not only reporting, but exacerbating horrible fashion trends.
- All the cops are young and are as afraid to check trash bins around subway stations as I am.
- Barnes and Noble is a beacon of free toilet facilities everywhere.
- Dressing up your dog is cute except when it's 630am and you need to get his snow booties on and you're late for work and he doesn't want to get out of bed.
- And for those of you who know my dog well, there's nothing like tacking on two $35 taxi rides to the $150 - $500 vet bill every 21 days for his allergy meds.
- Anthony Bourdain, one of my very favorite people, just reported Monday night on the amazing trend of putting tapioca beads into a colored flavored 'tea-like' drink. Bubble tea, it seems, is still a mystery to many New Yorkers.
- New Yorkers fly to Florida in droves to enjoy the same shopping, the same heat, and the same people as in New York, but in less clothing.
- I can die happy knowing I have had the best pizza of my life in Brooklyn. And that I've had enough of it too.
- Union Square at midnight is a bustling place with rats everywhere and hundreds of people talking. I've had some of my best conversations on those park benches, and I will miss my chef dearly. He knows my heart.
- I loved the place I worked until it realized it was an airline. But I was lucky to have met one of the best friends I've ever had at that place. Fate was on my side that day.
- Cinnamon babka from Russ & Daughters is enough of a reason for me to fly back quarterly.
- Hatha yoga becomes bikram in this weather. I slid right off my mat and nearly broke my ass. But my skin was glistening and golden and looked lovely in the sweat.
- Grocery stores, if you're lucky to live in an area with one, close as early as 8pm here unless you're willing to go to one in the city. The overpriced bodega with its stale bread and old fruit is your only choice until it closes around midnight. After that, it's I-know-there's-something-in-the-back-of-the-pantry-I-can-eat-if-I'm-creative time.
- Nobody tells you how much work it is to go to the grocery store. Or the movies. Or to brunch. 'Ring, ring...hello? Hey, it's been a long time. Brunch, sure! Hmm, let's see - the G is running on a shuttle schedule today which means I can take it from Bedford to Hoyt and then transfer to the A which is running on the F line. I can take that to W4 and then transfer back to the A to go uptown. That place off 5th? Sure, I can get off at 72nd and then take the crosstown, or wait...maybe I can take the G to Hoyt then transfer to the F and then backtrack to Atlantic to catch the 4/5. That might be better. What? There's flooding on the tracks? Shit. Well, I'll meet you in 3 hours at Union Square and we'll just figure it out, how about that? I'll call you when I get there and we'll find one another. Yeah, I know about the parade, but...'
- Tons of children died here this summer. They shot, stabbed, dismembered, suffocated, beat, and otherwise were terrible to each other.
- Protests on the West Coast are a lot more fun than they are here.
- The 5 boroughs are a lot more segregated than I expected, and I've experienced more racism here than I ever did growing up in Texas. Race is an issue everywhere in everything, for every person you meet.
- You know your neighbors but you're not always friends with them. So you don't go knocking on your neighbor's door to invite them down to the local pub or to invite them over for poker night. Community means something different here.

What Happens Next?
I'm glad you asked. It's time to get the hell out of Dodge. Weather and pollution like this can't be good for my aging skin - and those of you who have spoken to me since I got here know I've lost a good amount of my hearing (another benefit of public transportation). I miss fresh air, quiet, and the warm friendships that saw me through so much - in the bar, in our apartments, on the back of motorcycles. I miss being able to take the dog to Magnusson Park to run to the shore, and I miss quality coffee, Thai food, and sensibilities of that coast. And let's not start on the men...(but be on the lookout for good ones, I'll need a wingman to introduce me).

But What About Grad School?
Reality hit. US Airways changed its flight schedule and our planes ran late. Then there was the $3k per class, the first payment due in about a month - loans were ready for that. But after realizing I was really pushing hard to tolerate my surroundings, I thought it would be true torture to force myself to stay for the 4 - 5 years it might take for me to finish, with a $30k bill due at the end. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I think that's going to have to wait - perhaps indefinitely.

When? Where?
Spring, I figure. If I had to guess, I'd put my money on the Emerald City. I mean, I've already lived there twice before. Maybe third time's a charm.

I've got some work to finish here, but after winter I'll start really looking for a job. That's priority one. Everything else will fall into place after that. Anyone planning to come out should.

So friends, that's that.