In which I find mangosteens and fireflies

I didn't fall off the edge of the continent. I haven't been eaten by the internship (yet). Time Warner and I just had different interpretations of what was meant by "The installer will be there between 1:00 and 5:00 on Saturday."

I now have 'net and all's right with the world.

Major events of the past two weeks are as follows:

The housing search ended with a one-bedroom apartment four minutes away from work. There was a brief period where I was in love with a three-bedroom house-with-yard in West Uptown; the landlord described the neighborhood as "a little rough." Which I was totally okay with. I was also okay with the fact that I seemed to be the only white person there, and sort-of okay with the fact that half the houses on the block had plywood over the windows and signs that said "Danger - Unsafe Property." Neighborhood in transition, right? What I was NOT okay with was walking Kadin around the neighborhood (to get a feel for it, y'know?) and having a nice middle-aged guy, sitting on his porch, ask me "Honey, what are you DOIN' here?" and immediately thereafter tell me (in the most surreal "fatherly advice" moment of my life) that I would get my house broken into or shot at (or worse) if I moved in to the neighborhood. Oh-kaaaayyy. Back to the drawing board. (That event sparked a whole lot of thought about race relations and socioeconomics and the Mason Dixon line and any number of other things that I simply don't have the energy to go into it here and now.)

So here I am in a generic plastic apartment complex. The commute is fantastic. It's within shouting distance of my budget. They allowed (with unholy sums of non-refundable pet fees) all three critters. Yes, every water-related fixture in the apartment needed repair or replacement when I moved in, and potty trips out with the dogs have suddenly become a major scheduling element in my life, but it's now home, and it will TOTALLY work for a year. Besides, my neighbors are awesome (Dawn brought me radishes from her deck-garden yesterday), my balcony kicks ass, and I found a fantastic dog-walker who comes to play with the boys twice a day.


I am now officially an intern, but totally don't feel like one. I'm supposed to be overworked and sleep-deprived, right? Apparently no one told the oncology department. I left the clinic at five today, and only stayed that long because I didn't think I should violate the "Thou Shalt Be In Clinic From 7-5" commandment on the second day. I start emergency overnights in three weeks, which should make up for this. I'm pretty much betting it's going to feel like being thrown into the deep end of an icy pool, sans life jacket. In the meantime, though, I love the clinic, and I'm looking forward to someday having (1) more responsibility, and (2) some experience and confidence to go along with it.

Sunday was a TOTAL victory day. I left the boys alone for four hours and they didn't bark once, per my neighbor. Xavier's stress colitis finally resolved (thank heavens). I found a natural food market. I finally found a place I was willing to trust with a haircut ('course, they were booked three weeks out, but I hear the shaggy look is coming back). I used Melissa's gift card to get some totally awesome jewel-toned drinking glasses (now I just need to throw a party). AND -- I found a hole-in-the-wall grocery store that sold Thai chilis and Kaffir lime leaves and effing FRESH MANGOSTEENS! My second time in two weeks making an idiot of myself in a grocery store. I jumped up and down. I gibbered. I all but shook the poor clerk by the collar asking where she'd gotten them. I said that last I heard, they weren't legal for import into the States. She smirked and said nothing. Great -- I've got black market fruit now. Homeland security's probably on its way as I type... [Found out later that the import ban was lifted last year. Apparently Asian fruit flies are no longer the threat they once were.]

I have fallen in love with North Carolina. Sure, I'm expecting a year of sleep deprivation and never seeing my dogs, and there are mosquitoes that need their own zip code, and if one more person warns me to lock my doors and windows I will scream, but the weather alone makes up for this. It's hot and humid, and call me crazy, but I love the feel of walking out my door and into a sauna. (I have central air. I can say this, and retreat to it, with impunity.) Plants actually grow here. (Try putting a ficus on your deck in Seattle and see how many milliseconds it lasts before flipping you off with a leafy middle finger and dying.) The tree frogs are deafening and the crepe myrtle next to my balcony is a riot of hot pink flowers; I think it's channeling Moroccan bougainvillea. The heat lightning cuts through night like flashes of angry instant dawn. Fireflies -- fireflies alone are enough to justify my having moved my life across the country.