—————

Some of the most memorable places I have stood, in no particular order:

On The Great Wall of China.
Next to my sister as she took her wedding vows.
In front of the Kremlin in Moscow.
Next to my favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.
Priest Lake. Specifically, my family’s Priest Lake dock spot.
On Mt. Seorak, South Korea.
Poolside for countless summers with friends, and cousins, and awesome(ly ridiculous) bikinis.
At the base of Mother Russia in Volgograd (formerly Stalingrad).
On a surfboard in Oahu, Hawaii (for a few exhilarating seconds, anyway).
In Sunriver, Oregon as one of my oldest friends married her best friend, after reading vows I wrote for them.
On Cannon Beach, myriad times.
Almost directly across the Pacific from Cannon Beach, in Naksan, South Korea.
In front of a small house I helped build in Rosarito, Mexico.
In front of the Capitol Building in Washington D.C.
In an upstairs room of a house outside of L.A. with a writer/family member I had just met (Hi! Karen), swapping stories.
On Navy Pier in Chicago.
In front of professors and peers while I read essays prepared for a literature symposium, twice.
In a freezing cold Pacific Ocean at midnight on the very first day of this year.
In front of the stretch of river that took my father’s life.
In the Lower 9th Ward in New Orleans, post Hurricane Katrina.
A few rows in front of Ray LaMontagne as he sang himself out of breath performing one of my all-time favorite songs.
On curvaceous Lombard Street in San Francisco.
On a snowy mountainside with Hans at 3am one morning, realizing we were going to trek two miles uphill to a cabin.
In front of my grandfather in his hospital room, just a few hours before he succumbed to cancer.
On a bridge with an adventurous friend, before we jumped off it. (Into water; we are only mildly crazy.)
Underneath the biggest LED light display in the world (in Beijing).
Next to my dad as he carried my sister on his shoulders while we explored what is now Colbert, Washington.
With Kali at the finish line of the Shamrock 5k this past March.
In Vancouver, B.C. after a hilarious weekend with some of my best friends.
Outside after my first Dance Dance Party Party, feeling completely uninhibited for the first time in a long time.
Close enough to see Tom Petty perspire.
On a rolling walkway surrounded on all sides by tanks filled with sharks at Sea World: Orlando.
On Naito Parkway as my sister ran by amidst a churning sea of other dedicated bodies on her way to 26.2 miles.
In front of my parents as I took the first picture I ever loved.
On a wakeboard in Malibu, Canada.
In front of Big Eddy this weekend, a string of class 3/class 4 rapids on the Deschutes river, before doing this:

—————–

Your turn! Tell me some of the most memorable places you’ve stood.

At this point to say I cannot contain my already typically excessive exclaiming is to understate. HOW am I going to refrain from blurting out, “Hawaii! I’m going there!” from now until I leave at the beginning of September? Better yet, Maui! + getting to see my sister in TWO WEEKS = how am I going to sleep tonight? And the next night? And the night after that? HOW?

But I suppose this post is coming completely out of nowhere if you don’t follow me on Twitter, or don’t even use Twitter, and/or didn’t get a text or an email or a DM from me (IN ALL CAPS) saying something like “MAUI!” or “I’M GOING TO HAWAII!” or “THIS IS PERFECT BECAUSE I JUST WATCHED INTO THE BLUE LAST WEEKEND AND…what? No, no I did not watch Into the Blue. I mean, I did, but you can’t prove it and anyway, BACK TO SEA TURTLES!”

The oh so random “Kerri is going to Hawaii over Labor Day weekend” story goes a little something like this:

1. Kerri checks her email nonchalantly Tuesday morning, half-asleep.
2. Kerri notices Alaska Airlines trying to trick her into going to Hawaii by offering her a Crazy Ridiculous Low One-Way Fare. Kerri was in Hawaii ten (!) years ago and paid more like $600 for her ticket. So Kerri automatically think it’s a) a scam b) bound by a bunch of lame guidelines that will ultimately render her (at this point very imaginary) trip to Hawaii typical amounts of expensive, and therefore typical amounts of not happening.
3. After a bit of research Kerri realizes it’s a) not a scam and b) she can fly over Labor Day weekend for less than $300 round-trip. She also realizes Hawaiian Airlines beats Alaska with an Even Crazier Low One-Way Fare.
4. Kerri tweets about wanting to go to Hawaii, and says someone should come with her, because, hi, Hawaii, you look pretty today.
5. Kerri’s pretty sure everyone will think she’s nuts, and/or no one will be able to come, because who plans a last-minute trip to Hawaii after an already crazy August?
6. Kerri briefly considers going to Hawaii by herself, because why not? That is, until Terrell says she’s IN.
7. Kerri thinks about how much fun! it would be to go to Hawaii with Terrell, who is awesome and hilarious and likes sea turtles.
8. Kerri asks Terrell if she’s joking, because Kerri isn’t really joking, and Terrell, says nope, she’s totally IN.
9. Kerri finds a hotel on the beach for $72/night, which split between two people is Not Very Much At All/night.
10. Terrell and Kerri buy tickets (the air kind!) before they each leave work on Tuesday.
11. Kerri knows why she can’t stop smiling, but not why she is telling this story in a third-person numbered list.

I think I am seriously just in shock right now. I mean, I love! to travel, but this has to be the most spontaneous trip I have ever booked and (not) planned, and it’s just…exhilarating! Those prices were just way too good to ignore, and it will be nice to have a super relaxing (long) weekend getaway. I honestly can’t remember the last time a vacation was even remotely relaxing. Or tropical! It might have been the last time I was in Hawaii, ten years ago.

Ten years and I can still remember how perfectly floral the entire island of Oahu smelled when we walked off the plane.

I have a feeling Maui is going to smell even better.

*Post title from Forgetting Sarah Marshall which is a movie (that makes me laugh quite a lot and) set in…wait for it…HAWAII.

Found Item, The First: A vintage photographic rendering of Oregon’s very own Multnomah Falls, taken by my mom or dad, circa before I was born.

Found Item, The Second: Photographic evidence of me first falling in love with Priest Lake.

Found Item, The Third: A giant unused paintbrush. You know, for all of the giant portraits I’m commissioned to not paint.

Found Item(s), The Fourth: Before and after photos of a 3×3 tournament for charity my girlfriends and I took just a tad too seriously in college.

I can’t even see our torsos. Where’d they go? (I’m on the far left, if you weren’t sure.)

We did win, though. Awwh, yeah. The prize was…OUR PRIDE.

Oh, and some ill-fitting red t-shirts. (I’m on the far right this time.)

Found Item, The Fifth: My old cell phone, circa umm…this very well could have been my very first cell phone. I have no idea when I got it, but I do know I dropped it in a box (and promptly forgot about it, and then moved with it three different times) in October of 2004. HOW do I know that? Well, the phone still had (minimal) battery power left SIX years later, and so I turned it on. And checked the last calls. And oh, there were also still some text messages, and some clear tape holding the phone together because I had dropped it so many times.

I love how it’s shining like an angel instead of the sad little flip phone that it was. Rest in peace, Samson the Samsung.

*No deserted islands were harmed in the purging of my closets.

So I’ll start, and then you can feel free to leave your greater than/less than versions in the comments, or on your own site, or on a paper napkin in a coffee shop written in cappuccino foam (rules: there are none!).

Ready? OK!

For this girl:

seaweed, rice & eggs > bacon, hash-browns & eggs (I KNOW. I’m blaspheming from the very beginning of this list, but South Korea, and my sister, converted me.)

green > grey

hugs > handshakes

drive-ins > movies in 3-D

Twitter > Tumblr

pine trees > palm trees

optimism > any other “ism”

coastal > lakeside, unless we’re talking about Priest Lake, in which case: Priest Lake > all other bodies of water

no capes > capes

letting it go > holding grudges

interest in watching or talking about golf > interest in watching or talking about baseball

peas > carrots

spring > summer

hand-written letters > email

swimming > cycling

fiction > non-fiction

genuine compliments > genuine criticism

heart on my sleeve > keeping it inside

MacGruber > any other current SNL sketch

lithograph > letterpress

bare feet > sandals

lost in a book > LOST

flats > heels

Otter Pops > ice-cream

salty > sweet

Spike > Angel

hiking > climbing

steamed veggies > raw veggies

George Michael > Michael Bolton

puns > snark

Portland food carts > my best packed lunch

pugs > all other dogs, ever

faith > being a Doubting Thomas

communication > non-confrontation

planned > last-minute

sandwiches > soup

Mr. Incredible > Superman

the power of patience > tapping your toe

bad dancing > putting Baby in the corner

————-

Your turn!

Lest you think I was deprived of good, old-fashioned illustrated fun, here’s a fairly comprehensive (see also: long, but entertaining!) list of the shows I did watch as a kid:

The Littles

Does anyone else remember this show? PLEASE tell me you remember the little elven-like people who are little (yes!) and wear buttons on their overalls because…buttons are little too! (Umm…)  I can’t for the life of me remember what the show was about per se; I think oftentimes it’s just them, The Littles, running from cats and trying not to end up on the underside of some human’s exceedingly large sneaker. And I’ll be honest in admitting that looking at that picture now is making me think that maybe The Littles were a little creepier than I remember them being. Apparently one of those guys up there is named “Dinky.” Yeah. I have no idea.

I do remember once trying to explain this show to someone who clearly had not seen it, without being able to remember they were called The Littles, and without visual aides, and blurting out, “You know, the show with the little people who wear buttons!”

*blank stare*

*crickets*

*buttons*

Inspector Gadget!

Oh, how I loved Inspector Gadget. And Penny! And the way Chief Quimby would pop out of the most random places (like trashcans!) to deliver important crime-related messages to Inspector Gadget because (GET THIS) this was before email even existed! I know, right? How did we LIVE?

The better question is how would Chief Quimby’s typed or hand-written notes always self-destruct after Gadget read them? Flecks of dynamite in the ruled paper? Radioactive ink? Detective magic? (Oh hi, welcome to my brain!) It’s a mystery. But rest assured that moments after this scene depicted below, Gadget throws the crumpled note back in the trashcan and KABOOM! Chief Quimby is on fire! No, literally. Oh, but wait, now he just looks burnt. And a maybe little annoyed. Not on fire though, so, there’s that.

This show was like the original Mission: Impossible. But with gadgets! And villains with monikers like Sven Vinceton and Pierre LaChop! (Also: Rattlesnake Bart! This show was GENIUS, I tell you.)

It was also where I’m assuming Mike Myers concocted his much beloved Dr. Evil character (Is Dr. Evil much beloved? I seem to remember that movie being quoted quite a bit), as evidenced (to me) by the following visual representation of Dr. Claw, who is Gadget’s primary nemesis and works for an evil organization called M.A.D. (Not to be confused with M.A.D.D.)

My favorite gadget of Gadget’s? Probably Go-Go-Gadget ‘Copter, followed closely by Go-Go-Gadget Ears.

Jem and the Holograms

I had such fond memories of this show before Google searching, memories of oh so hip hair, and of hot pink star-laden makeup, and microphones, and the sheer power possessed by the fearless women of rock n’ roll, and then: “Wait. Why does Jem look like Barbie on ecstasy?”

“And wait, how old were these girls supposed to be?”

And then I stumbled on a picture of the Misfits, Jem’s arch nemeses in girl band form, and remembered without Wikipedia’s help that the girl on the left in the picture below (Stormer!) was my favorite character on the show because she’s the nice, super sensitive girl stuck with the mean girls, and I loved her white hair, and…

…she played the keytar. Awwh, yeah.

He-Man and She-Ra

I mean, those names alone still kill me. I can’t think or read or say “She-Ra” without overly emphasizing the “Ra” like you would while round-house-kicking or judo-chopping someone, as in: “Hi-yah!” “She-Rah!”

Add the fact that they’re twin siblings from the planet Eternia, a planet whose primary power source originates from Castle Greyskull (”By the power of Greyskull,” anyone?) and you have the framework for an epic children’s cartoon with the girliest looking superhero ever.

“Tremble before my super chic bob!”

She-Ra(h!) also had fabulous hair.

Though her outfit? Downright ridiculous for fighting villains. Speaking of villains! He-Man and She-Ra definitely topped the creep charts with their bad guy.

Dear Skeletor: You still scare me. And why is your staff topped with a ram’s skull? Um. Never mind. Have a nice day, Skeletor!

The Chipmunk Adventure

This wasn’t a T.V. series, but it was one of my favorite animated movies as a kid, and if you have never seen this movie (and thus have no idea why I’m professing to be fond of anything chipmunk-related), I’m going to herein suggest you stop what you’re doing and head to YouTube, where I’ve selected a few clips to make my points about why this movie still makes me as happy as it did when I first watched it so many years ago.

Chipmunk Rationale, The First: The Girls of Rock N’ Roll

Did you watch the video? Did you laugh? I can’t stop laughing when I watch that video (Theodore exclaiming, “But my cous-cous!” at the beginning is probably my favorite part), and the rest of the movie is much the same: The girls having a sing-off with the boys in some exotic locale while they collect dolls they have no idea are filled with either diamonds or cash. (Kids, don’t try this at home! Wherein “this” mostly means “smuggling.”)

Aside: Could Brittany (the sassy one in pink) wear some more clothes and maybe shop shaking her booty like Beyonce? (Or, does Beyonce shake her booty like Brittany; aha!) Because hi, I think she’s supposed to be like 10. Also, hi, SHE’S A CHIPMUNK.

Chipmunk Rationale, The Second: Wooly Bully

“Worry Burry!” says Chief Man Boobs.

In conclusion, this movie has around-the-world action, chipmunk karaoke, and characters as hilarious as the idea that three pint-sized chipmunk “boys” or “girls” could operate hot air balloons by themselves.

My Little Pony

My Little Ponies were toys first, a T.V. series second, and a movie third, and yes, I am herein stating for the record that I loved all three.

I mean, really, how can you go wrong with talking (and flying!) magical horses with names like Whizzer, Masquerade, Magic Star, and Cherries Jubilee?

My personal favorite pony? Lickety-split, of course.

And does anyone remember the biggest evil in Ponyland? I give you, the Smooze:

Think The Blob + Hexxus + purple = the ponies will stop the smooze with sparkles!

Rainbow Brite

Did I mention I had a thing for horses as a girl? As in, I wanted to watch shows about them, and collect figurines of them, and learn to ride them, and give them awesome names, and braid their rainbow-colored manes, etcetera etcetera and on and on, until I finally had to learn to stop being so obsessive about equestrian-related everything.

Rainbow Brite’s horse (Starlite!) was not only way too big for Rainbow’s wee frame, but he was (metro-sexual, OK, fine, and) BEAUTIFUL, and had a STAR on his forehead (as all of you with eyes probably already noticed) and yeah, I JUST LIKED HORSES, OK?

I also liked the Color Kids (one for each color of the rainbow; are you seeing a theme here?), friends Rainbow rescued once upon a time and who are now in charge of all of the world’s colors.

Patty O’Green was definitely my favorite Color Kid, and not just because of my fondness for the (admittedly awful) Patio O’Furniture St. Patrick’s Day joke I somewhat recently shared via Twitter.

But wait, it gets better. The resident bad guy in Rainbow Land? MURKY DISMAL.

“My name’s Murky. Yes, that’s right: Murky Dismal. Anyway, I’m here to steal diamonds gold power your soul THE WORLD’S COLOR SPECTRUM.”

Scooby-Doo, Where Are You!

As much as I myself love to exclaim, I’m admittedly twitchy about that exclamation point in the title of the my favorite and longest-running cartoon featuring ghosts who aren’t really ghosts, even when they clearly must be ghosts. A question mark would appear to be the proper punctuation of choice for a question like, “Where are you?” but apparently the writers were just too excited to care.

Everyone knows Scooby-Doo, right? And the lovable albeit clueless and perpetually famished Shaggy? (Come to think of it, Shaggy and Scooby might also be a metaphor for legalizing marijuana.)

They were my favorite for many reasons, not the least of which being their ability to find ginormous sub sandwiches and various condiments in every single fridge in every haunted house they visited. I’m pretty sure one time they even found pancakes.

And of course my favorite character that’s not really a character at all, but is a big, green, hippie crime-fighting machine: The Mystery Machine!

Sweet ride, Fred.

“You mean this van is a tad effeminate and will probably ensure none of us have intimate relationships until we’re thirty?”

The Rescue Rangers

(No, not the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. Who do you think I am?) (And I just realized: chipmunks again! Hmm…quite suspect, I will agree. But these chipmunks wear fedoras, bomber jackets, and Hawaiian shirts so…)

OK, fine. I can’t really explain why I loved this show, but there was a plane! And adventure! And an Australian mouse named Monterey Jack!

And again, they all look crazy in retrospect! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE.

The Smurfs

This list could never be complete without the Smurfs, or les Schtroumpfs in French (thanks! Wikipedia), the much beloved cartoon commune of blue creatures “three apples tall” who skip to and from their daily tasks while singing “tra la la la la la, tra la la laaaa.” Also, they are probably a metaphor for legalizing marijuana.

Again, the plot of the show? Pretty non-existent from what I can remember, but I do love Wikipedia’s (completely unbiased) reporting on Smurf language:

A characteristic of the Smurf language is the frequent use of the word “smurf” and its derivatives in a variety of meanings. The Smurfs replace enough nouns and verbs in everyday speech with “smurf” as to make their conversations barely understandable: “We’re going smurfing on the River Smurf today.”

The Snorks

These snorkel-propelled underwater sea creatures were pretty much just aquatic rip-offs of the aforementioned Smurfs, but with characters sporting names like Governor Wellington Wetworth and Dr. Gallio Seaworthy and a “supporting villain” (Oh, Wikipedia, I really do love you) named The Great Snork Nork, I’m discovering a renewed desire to remember what all the snorking was about.

—————

OK, so now it’s your turn. What were your favorite cartoons as a kid? Someone PLEASE tell me they’ve heard of The Littles. PLEASE, for the sake of buttons.

Oh, and if you need me, I’ll be over here smurfing on the River Smurf.

We’ve all heard about the five (or seven) stages of grief, the designated personal places you must traipse within and for yourself to be able to stand tall on the other side of whatever loss you are suffering. Stages you need to fight your way through surviving, and really processing, to be able to find yourself again.

In my head I liken the five stages of divorce to a wily maze, thick with brambles of emotional underbrush you can attempt to evade, but ultimately, eventually, you are forced to cut straight through them to get to the heart of the matter, the heart of your own healing. The ultimate goal of course being to get yourself out of the ten-foot-tall winding hedge comprised of both fear and ambition, of self-doubt and progress, reeking of history, like a living tribute to the best and worst of yourself.

It’s been amazing to be able to identify most of these stages within myself, and even before Jen wrote the afore-linked post, to know I was wandering (sometimes aimlessly; sometimes deliberately) through personal stages of grief and healing before I could properly recognize and categorize them.

Most recently I was in Crazy Pendulum Stage, swinging so close to Healing I could smell it on a daily basis. (Healing smells like Neosporin® and hope mixed with chocolate chip cookies, if you were wondering.) On my best days, I could really feel it. Feel me, rising from the ashes somewhere deep below the flannel of hurt I had been wearing like second skin.

Like the day I wanted to tell all of you that I came home after a long and taxing day of work and pushed myself through a cardio workout, and then made unassisted salmon for the first time and it was sort of amazing. (I did call my mom to tell her, because moms are required to care about things as mundane as their daughters being able to properly cook a piece of fish. My mom being the fantastic cheerleader that she is “Ooohed” and “Aaahed” at all the right moments, and even asked me questions about my cooking procedures.) It was a milestone of sorts, and not just because Chris and I used to make salmon all the time and it was the first time I’d ever done it by myself, for myself.

Without even realizing the moment it happened, sometime within the last two months I stepped out of the bittersweet Healing Phase, grass and small burrs still lodged in my hair, and started striding confidently into my very own Superhero(ine) Phase.

And now I’m going to pause for a moment to say something I’ve wanted to say since the end of June. Preface: I don’t know if I’m about to sound like The Biggest Sap On The Planet (TBSOTP), but I have a feeling this sentiment will make a bit of sense to anyone who has lost someone (whether to death or to life).

I can feel your love. In a very tangible way I have from the beginning and still can feel your support, your prayers, your good thoughts being sent my way, and every time someone unexpectedly emails or texts or calls to tell me they’re thinking of me I want to say “I know. I can feel it; I can feel the love.”

(I don’t typically say that because I fear everyone will think I’ve turned into a full-blown hippie and am now frolicking on someone’s large front lawn with daisies and braids in my unwashed hair while I ponder creating a time machine so I can move to San Francisco circa 1965.)

What I typically do is cry (see again: sap), and attempt to explain how thankful I am. How ridiculously lucky I count myself to have each and every one of you. Your support has been amazing, and I’m not exaggerating when I say it’s literally been carrying me through the must tumultuous time in my life. I don’t believe I could have done this without you. And I have no intention of forgetting that, ever.

Now, without further sappy adieu, on to the list! (What list?) (This! list.)*

Things I Want To Try While Wearing My Superhero(ine) Pants**:

Bungee jumping — Technically I’ve already done something (a little) similar, at Six Flags outside of L.A. It was ridiculously terrifying. And awesome. And I’m pretty sure I drooled on myself while I was falling. It was one of those adrenaline-heavy, freestanding rides located inside the park. It was called The Superman, which loosely translated means, “Here, we’re going to hoist you up way too high over some gravel and then you are going to pull this lever to RELEASE YOURSELF (Theresa assigned me this task), at which time you will free fall for a few seconds that will feel like a lifetime and then you’ll start to pendulum swing, WEEE!”

This jump is going to be really symbolic for me. A letting go and embracing the fall into a new saga of my life sort of jump. I’m admittedly as excited about the symbolism as I am about how I’m no doubt going to to be pants-crappingly scared to throw myself off a bridge with a cable attached to my body, and how I’m going to do it anyway.

Unearthing Fit Kerri — I wasn’t happy for a long time, and while a lot of my unhappiness has come to light since the separation and everything that came after, the ultimate handicap for me is that during my time with Chris I let myself become someone I didn’t even recognize by the end. I think that’s the danger of relationships we aren’t supposed to be in: we don’t get better; we get worse. We become the worst versions of ourselves, and then to combat the feelings of being unhappy, we do things we would never do if we were happy. For me, I buried myself in food and inactivity and watched the weight on my shoulders grow heavier every week while the weight on my frame did, too.

I am an athlete. I have been since I was a kid. All of my life, until about three years ago, I have been healthy and fit, hopping from one sports season to the next, keeping myself active both outdoors and indoors, loving the way my body responded to rigorous doses of activity, loving my own physical strength and my ability to move freely. I want that Kerri back. And I intend to take her back, one step at at time. The first of many important steps I’m taking toward this goal were trekked in China and South Korea, and the thirteen! pounds I lost while I was there was just the motivation I needed to get my literal backside in gear when I got home. The next steps toward this goal are going to be trod this weekend during the Shamrock 5k I’m running/walking/probably dying while finishing with Rhi and Kali. Quitting just isn’t an option. And so I won’t.

Writing every day — Writing so closely mirrors putting on my Brave Pants because it’s what I know I should be doing (with my life, as an actual career) and yet too often I falter, over-think, tell myself I’ll have more time at some later date to transfer the stories dancing in my head onto the page, and you know what? That’s total b.s. All of it. I make too many excuses and I’m tired of them. There is no such thing as “more time later.” And even if there were, there’s no guarantee that time is going to be granted to you. Or to me, as it were.

For the past week I’ve written something (non-blog-related) every day, and the act of sitting down in front of a blank page (or screen) and filling it with my words has sprinkled hefty doses of joy into my life, just like it always has, ever since elementary school when I fell in love with reading and writing in Mrs. Vance’s second-grade classroom. Just like it does whenever I make writing a priority. The moral of this story: our passions and our gifts are faithful if we are willing to give them our time.

———

As difficult as moving on has been for me, and as hard as it will be for you if you ever find yourself facing a similar situation (or perhaps as you find yourself facing a similar situation right this moment), I can tell you with 100% confidence that the hope you will feel when faced with a fresh start and a blank slate, the inner strength you will realize you have been given, and the way your friends will come from everywhere and nowhere to support you? It will take your breath away. And you will be OK. And very soon after that you will be even better than OK, and you’ll start laughing, hearty laughs bellowing from so deep inside you won’t be able to stop once you start, and then maybe you’ll even spend two weeks in Asia having the time of your life, and you will be thankful for every single moment.

*This being a more specific extension of my 2010 list of goals a.k.a. A Year Complete. I’ve been recording my progress on that list as the weeks fly by, and it lives as its own page in the top nav. of my site. Or you can just click here.

**NO CAPES!

1: Raw Ginseng root eaten after being offered by a kindly man with wrinkles showcasing his eyes at the Yangyang market. Also the number of photos I was asked to be in with total strangers (at the Forbidden City in Beijing).

6: Times I was asked to take pictures for total strangers.

2: Cups of mineral water I drank directly from a spring in the ground (in Osaek).

3: Flights (out of 5) wherein I had two (or more!) seats to myself. (Comfortable air travel is happy air travel.)

5: Times (out of 5) I sat by the window on the aforementioned flights. Also the number of Buddhist temples I visited.

11: Pictures I attempted to self-take with little compositional success, that I still very much love.

4: The most unlucky number in South Korea, and thus the one missing from all numbering and building planning. The floors in Will and T’s apartment building (and all other apartment buildings) were numbered 1, 2, 3…5, 6, 7 and on and on, with no fourth floors ever to be found.

4 & 9: The days most Korean cities host local markets; that is, any day boasting either a 4 or 9 in the date. Apparently the number 4 isn’t so unlucky when it comes to shopping.

20+: Times I put something in my mouth for the first time ever, something I probably had no idea even existed a few minutes prior to eating it.

5(pm) 2.5.10: The moment I realized I was eating squid as it was meant to be prepared. (Fresh from salt water, grilled and stuffed with rice and veggies and other mouth-watering goodness.)

13: Pounds I lost while in Asia. Also the number of days I awoke to bright sunshine and clear (albeit meat-locker-cold) days in both Beijing and South Korea.

5: Days Snowmageddon decided to visit South Korea. (The last five days, as it were.)

50 lbs: Worth of journals/notebooks/day planners I ogled, coveted, laughed at and nearly bought while in South Korea.

14: Paper somethings with which I actually absconded. (Lest you think I’ve successfully plunged off The Paper Deep End (It exists; I checked), a large percentage of that 14 were purchased as gifts, and you can’t prove otherwise.)

10: Postcards I intended to mail while abroad, which will actually be mailed from a more exiting, exotic location that looks remarkably like my apartment.

20: Minutes a day spent laughing while trying to understand Korean television programming with Will and T.

3.21: Kilometers I hiked up The Great Wall.

120: Seconds it took to be whisked down off The Great Wall via gondolas located at one of the original lookout stations.

30: Minutes spent riding around the hutongs in Beijing on a rickshaw.

18: Days I journaled while abroad (See also: every day).

32: Degrees outside when Theresa and I decided to take a snowy, nighttime bike ride to Rolly Espresso and back. (Despite The Freezing, it’s one of my favorite memories from the trip. Especially because I know we looked Crazy walking in for a cup of espresso with our pants and hats, hands and red noses dripping wet.)

1 Million: A rough estimate of how many times I thought to myself, “I am so thrilled to be here.”

843: The number of pictures I took while on the trip.

Speaking of (ridiculous amounts of) pictures, I uploaded some more; the entire set from the trip is here.

We’ve all heard of The List, right? (Right!)

For those new to the game, The List is mostly comprised of celebrities and other famous faces you are allowed to covet outside of your Committed Relationship because (it’s all in good fun, and anyway) these people are the cheese to your macaroni, the peanut-butter to your jelly, or at least they might be, according to the plethora of information you’ve been able glean about them from this month’s People Magazine. Mostly though, you just think they’re crazy/sexy/cool.*

What I like even better than The List is what happens when you add the word “fictional” to it, the game thus now requesting you choose your top 5 (or 15) characters from various shows and movies that are the proverbial peas to your carrots.

Here’s my version of such list. And of course it’s longer than 5. I never was very good at following internet rules.

The list is in some semblance of an order, or maybe more of a scale of sorts, wherein Peter Petrelli (played by Milo Ventimiglia) = I would marry him (fictionally, or in real life), even if I didn’t know him well enough to know (anything about him, like maybe) how to pronounce his last name, or that he puts cilantro on everything and thinks Zima is the king of beers.**

Peter Petrelli (Heroes)

I honestly don’t even know where to start with Peter Petrelli without sounding like a mildly obsessed fictional stalker. (Which, do you see this post I’m writing right now?)

If you haven’t seen Heroes*** my allegiance to Peter Petrelli might be 100% lost on you, but if you’ve seen even a single episode with Peter in it then I have to imagine you knew what I was talking about before I even started this sentence.

Beyond being the single most attractive human being on the planet (to me, anyway), Peter is the epitome of a selfless hero. Perpetually battling his own inner darkness, he’s brooding and moody without being insufferable, and works as a paramedic in New York City to help people using his super-powers. He also has a voice I love to listen to and a charming lop-sided smile. (Mildly obsessed fictional stalker territory? Duly noted.)

Just one more picture then, before we move along:

Ren McCormack (Footloose)

Anyone who knows me (and my love of Kevin Bacon) probably saw Ren coming from a mile away. He snags the number two spot on my list for being a part of one of the best scenes in cinematic history, amen. He’s also the only man I’ve ever seen look even remotely cool while repeatedly rocking a pair of Mom Jeans.

Fox Mulder (The X-Files)

Special Agent Fox Mulder was the reason I gave myself myriad nightmares in junior high and high school after watching the The X-Files every Friday night at 9pm with my dad. Mulder’s obsession with the truth (it’s out there) and his ability to smile with his eyes (Tyra would be so proud) while rocking a monochrome suit made me instantly smitten, even if some of the episodes still HAUNT ME TO THIS DAY.

Rick O’Connell (The Mummy & The Mummy Returns)

OK, now no judging allowed in this case if you haven’t seen one of both of these movies. Both The Mummy & The Mummy Returns rest in my top tier of cinematic favorites, because not only are they supremely entertaining, with a nearly perfect action/magic/romance/comedy ratio, they are also pretty superbly well-written and well-acted.

Rick O’Connell is someone who can rock twin gun holsters and save the world from centuries-old mummies (multiple times) while telling jokes that make me laugh. Man of my dreams? Pretty much.

Kale Brecht (Disturbia)

Did I tell you about the time I fell a little bit in love with a suspense/horror movie based solely on this character? It’s becoming mightily apparent that I’m a sucker for dark hair, great comedic timing, and intense eyebrow furrowing.

Will Shuester (Glee!)

Enter your favorite Music/Spanish teacher with a heart of gold. Glee is amazing for a lot of reasons (honestly, if you aren’t watching it, you’re missing out), but Mr. Shue is totally my favorite, and seeing him singing “Bust a Move” while dancing around the rehearsal room? One of my favorite t.v. moments EVER, which was then totally upstaged in the finale with an even better! scene, which I won’t ruin for those of you who haven’t seen all of the episodes yet.

Jacob Black (Twilight)

COUGAR ALERT! Jacob is a quasi last-minute addition to the list, though if I’m being honest I have been a fan of his ever since I read the books, and I think Taylor Lautner was perfectly cast as Jacob for the movies. I, along with Amanda and my favorite name twin (and two teenage girls in the bathroom at the movie theater), am also 100% Team Jacob after watching New Moon. You Team Edwarders can suck it. (Totally kidding. Also: GET IT?)

What I love about Jacob Black is that (he’s buff, and) emotionally honest; he wears his heart on his sleeve (or lack thereof), all while also being funny and able wolf it up if the occasion calls for it, which, let’s face it, is pretty awesome. He can also jump through bedroom windows in a mostly single bound, doubles as a portable space-heater, and manages to look fantastic while standing in a torrential downpour.

Dr. Robert Chase (House)

Brilliant surgeon and diagnostician? Check. Australian accent? Check. Snazzy dresser? Check. Secret romantic? Checkmate. Also, the only (non-peroxide) blond to make this list.

Jake Fischer (The Guardian)

I have a thing for swimmers. Enter Fischer, who is a cocky collegiate swim star enlisting in an elite branch of the U.S. Coast Guard. Have any of you even seen this movie? I actually sort of loved it. Then again, any movie featuring rad athletic montages (these ones were all swimming-related), the ocean, and Kevin Costner pretty much wins in my book.

Spike (Buffy)

Enter peroxide blond!

Most of you probably already know why I would never stake Spike. If you don’t (here’s a post for you! and) I dare you to watch Buffy and not become a) instantly addicted, and/or b) instantly addicted to Spike. (Unless you’re Sarah, in which case: touché.) He’s the undead English rogue with endless brooding wit everyone loves to hate, and who makes the series infinitely more interesting.

Bob Lee Swaggar (Shooter)

How hilarious is that name? I mean, really, I can’t stop laughing right now. But before you start mocking my choice, Mr. Swaggar (haa!) is intelligent, and buff, and can treat multiple bullet wounds he just sustained with items purchased from a convenience store. Which I’m thinking would probably come in handy during any potential end-of-the-world-type scenarios. Also: he can shoot you in the face from three miles away. In a blizzard. So on top of everything, he’s like a built-in home defense system.

Stefan Salvatore (The Vampire Diaries)

This is me, publicly admitting I totally watch The Vampire Diaries, and you know what? I LIKE IT. Judge if you must.

Jeff Winger (Community)

I think this one is pretty self-explanatory, but if you haven’t seen an episode yet (DO IT), Winger is pretty much a single version of the actual Joel McHale, only this time instead of hosting a hilarious show on E, he’s a still-hilarious ex-lawyer enrolled in community college now struggling to pass Spanish. Oh, and his Spanish teacher, Señor Chang? That would be this guy.

Xander Harris (Buffy)

I was a Xander fan from the very beginning of Buffy. He’s the loyal boy-next-door with a heart of gold. He’s also punny.

Virgil Earp (Tombstone)

Oh, Virg. The first and only cowboy to steal my heart. If I told you my high esteem for Virgil has a lot to do with the ridiculously amazing mustache he sports throughout the entire movie, would you even be surprised?

Special Honorary Mention: Simon Templar (The Saint)
I’m not normally an “Oooh, Val Kilmer!” sort of gal, but Simon Templar was the very first spy I ever had a crush on. Templar is really something like eight different characters in this movie, and each one is great. Aside: I have seen The Saint so many times it might be a little ridiculous, and if you ever hear me say “Mother Russia” in a certain punctuated (and no doubt terrible) Russian accent, rest assured I’m quoting this movie, every time.

Honorable mentions (because hi, I had to end this post THIS CENTURY):
Jaime Bennett (Love, Actually); Nick Powell (The Invisible); Ando Mashahashi (Heroes); Memphis Raines (Gone in Sixty Seconds); Robin Hood (From, you know, Robin Hood); Dimitri (Anastasia); Riley Finn (Buffy); Oz (Buffy); Captain Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean); Ron Weasley (Harry Potter); Bill Harding (Twister); Eric Northman (from the Sookie Stackhouse novels, not the HBO True Blood series); Lt. John McClane (Pick a Die Hard, any Die Hard); Dr. Stanley Goodspeed (The Rock); Jack Bristow (Alias); Will Tippin (Alias); Noah Bennet (Heroes); The Men of Dollhouse (Topher Brink/Victor/Paul Ballard).

Feel like playing along? (Of course! you do) So tell me, who are your fictional favorites?

———————-
*Don’t go chasing waterfalls. (Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.)
**I promise I’m not judging you if you like Zima. Well maybe I am, just a little.
***My favorite show on television right now. Followed closely by Glee and Community.

My mantra this year: Be brave, Kerri.

Ready? Me, too.

————-A Year Complete———–

Jump into the Pacific Ocean at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

Take my first solo international flight.

Hike and photograph The Great Wall of China.

Wander around Beijing by myself and see how many times I get lost.

Finish both stories I’m currently writing.

Take the streetcar to work while I still live near it.

Spend ten amazing days in South Korea with babycarrot sister and Will.

Kayak along the Columbia River.

Kayak along the Columbia River during a full moon.

Be an encouragement to as many people as possible.

Move into an apartment or house where I’m paying less rent.

Spend a day surfing with my favorite surfing friend.

Run, run, and run some more (specifically)–
In the rain on the beach.
In Forest Park.
Shamrock Run (5k), March 14 with Rhi! and Kali! and Chris! and Hans! (Registered!)
Race for the Roses (5k), April 11
Lake Oswego Run (5k), May 8
Coeur d’Alene (5 or 12k), May 30
Columbia River Crossing (10k), October 3

Successfully turn Iggy into a running pug.

Journal daily (which is going to be great fun thanks to this little guy).

Write letters on real paper to friends and family for no particular reason.

Kayak along the Oregon Coast.

Tell people “I’m a writer” and mean it.

Take the train to Seattle to visit my rad Seattle friends.

Volunteer in my community, maybe helping with an after-school reading program.

Kayak with Jen! on Lake Washington.

Get back in the pool. (Specifically: swim 2-3x/week.)

Visit the Portland Chinese Gardens (pictures here) and the Portland Japanese Gardens.

Read at least two books a month.

Spend a few days in New York in August, with a plethora of lovely, hilarious ladies.

Re-read Moby-Dick.

Bungee jump, here.

Spend more time near the ocean.

Enter at least one writing contest every two months.

Spend two days in Vancouver, B.C. in April.

Try out for the Rose City Rollers.

Plan and finish at least three scenic Pacific NW hikes; I’m thinking:
Pacific Coast of Washington
Cape Lookout (to go whale-watching)
Harts Cove

Watch one documentary a month.

Show Jen a Pacific Northwest Good Time when she visits PDX in May.

Bake a pumpkin pie with a homemade crust.

See Percy Jackson in February, Eclipse in June and Harry Potter in November, with a friend as excited to see all three of those movies as I am.

Get my buttercup tattoo.

Make a plan to be college-loan-debt-free by the end of 2011, and continue growing my savings every month.

Road trip it to Summerland to visit Angella, Amanda and their respective crews again, for a weekend this fall.

Attempt to paint an ocean-scape from a photo I’ve taken.

Attend an event at Omsi.

Research graduate programs for English Literature/decide if I want to teach at the collegiate level when I grow up.

Take a page from Sizz’s book and create a soundtrack for the year.

Tell my friends how amazing they are and how much I love them on a regular basis.

Laugh, a lot.

It also included “spiders,” to which I said I wanted to meet the person who actually LIKES spiders. I’m sure that person exists, but I want to know if they can also form coherent sentences, or if they tell girls at the bottom of a well in their basement “It puts the lotion on its skin.” (Why hello! random Silence of the Lambs reference; so strange to see you here!). I would say spiders and I have a mutual toleration policy: they don’t scare me but I’m not inviting them to pitch a tent in my living room either. Unless they promise to bring s’mores. Then maybe we can talk.

Being rather post-inspired by various friends as of late, I thought today I’d post a few things I dislike, all of which have nothing to do with much of anything, beyond my general distaste for them.

Moving right along then, I’m not a fan of:

• Migraines.
• The fact that I can’t sell my ovaries on the black market for significant profit.
• Coconut (hol(l)a! Isabel).
• Lemon in my dessert.
• Cheesecake.
• Tsk-tsk’ers.
• Emails I “mark as spam” that keep rising from their spammy graves like zombies to perpetually pollute my inbox.
• Zombies (At least, I don’t think I’d like them. Unless they didn’t eat me, and maybe told really great jokes.)
• Bright orange post-it notes (MY EYES).
• Book series ending (in general; why can’t you just keep writing the story FOREVER? and especially) before I’m ready to say goodbye to the characters and the story-line(s).
• Halloween costumes that are just a skanked-out version of a regular person/profession. For example, “What are you supposed to be?” “A slutty nurse/a slutty bartender/a slutty rabbi/a slutty hobo.”
• The fact that I’m not magic, have no wand, cannot fly or do other magical things.

To balance the scales of affinity (not to be confused with the scales of INfinity), I am a fan of:

• Referencing obscure SNL skits from Saturday nights of yore that continue to make me laugh like a lunatic.
• Pumpkin pie.
• Space-invader boots. (I know, right? COOLEST BOOTS EVER, and a co-worker totally owns a pair, for serious.)
• Saturday nights spent laughing and rabble-rousing with The Kids & Hans (TK&H), “The Kids” being a group comprised of three co-workers and myself who labeled ourselves such because we are the only people in the office under 30 sans children, and thus sans after-work responsibilities. Unless you count “taking out the trash” an after-work responsibility, in which case: meh.
• Reading my Twitter favorites when I’m feeling melancholy. Not once have I been able to get past the first page without laughing aloud. My Twitter favorites: better than anti-depressants!
• [Updated to add!] Plans to spend New Year’s Eve with three lovely ladies on the Oregon Coast. As in, I will be able to walk out the front door of our beach house and touch…wait for it…THE BEACH. I will also be able to run into the ocean when the clock strikes midnight, which is something I’ve admittedly wanted to do for years.
• Realizing after booking my tickets yesterday that I really am! going to Beijing and South Korea at the end of January. I’ll be spending a few days in Beijing where my company has an office, and then traveling on to Seoul and the province where babycarrot sister and brother Will have been living and working since July. “Unbelievably excited” doesn’t even begin to touch the amount of happy anticipation I’m feeling right now.
• Divorce advice existing in honest and well-written form without me having to a) ask for it, or b) write it myself, from a dear (and hilarious) friend who has been shepherding me through this emotional roller coaster without even realizing, I think, what a shepherd (shepherdess?) she’s been. (Annnd, end! sheep/shepherd/carnival imagery.) Particularly speaking to me were these three paragraphs and points:

“[For a divorcing person] Cheesy music can really cheer you up. The cheesier, the better, really. Let Destiny’s Child offer you a strong moral message while also providing a beat to dance to in your new apartment. Note that your pets will not, in fact, throw their hands up at you, even if you entreat them to do so. Technically, they are not independent women, so I suppose this makes sense.

Recognize that appreciating the good will make the whole deal a little sadder. Tossing aside your emotional armor can be painful, but some wounds need to hurt longer to heal well. If you wait a little longer to climb back onto your feet, it may save you years of limping around. Hot damn, that’s profound. Write that shit down.

[For people who know a divorcing person]

Don’t take anything personally, even if “anything” includes nine unanswered e-mails and the forgetting of your birthday. Sorry.

Be supportive. Let them decide whether they want to talk about it. Forgive wild fluctuations in emotion and opinion. One day your divorcing friend will want to be a forest ranger! The next day, a nun! One day, your divorcing friend is totally fine, and over the whole thing! The next day, whoops, still depressed. Nod, smile, and be patient. Let them work it out.”

• Feeling better (today), feeling hopeful (today), feeling 100% sure I’m headed the right way down a path I’ve been ignoring for far too long (nearly every day).