Where to begin?

WHAT a weekend! It's been impossible to blog since Friday, as I've been in the midst of "Furniture-O-Rama." I like to name seemingly mundane, but entirely sentimental events in my life with huge, outrageous names- as to mark their significance in my personal evolution.
For starters, I left cozy Concord and traveled to Emeryville, not just once, but twice. That's a 25 mile drive. To the city. Away from the safety of home. In a car. My car.
Let me be more specific: I've become addicted to Ikea and I went on Saturday and again on Sunday. Did you hear me? I went to Ikea. On a Saturday.
In comparison, it's like going scuba diving (for the first time) during shark mating season.
It all began with a little adventure in minimalism last October. I got rid of EVERYTHING that didn't fit in my car. U-Haul rental was too expensive to transport my meager possessions across the country, so I gave them all away, as you well know by now. Thus, when I arrived in California, I had, well, nothing to speak of- just plastic containers with my uniform of jeans and holey t-shirts and idealistic tokens of the past. In 4 days I've purchased a bed, for which a picture will never do justice, a writing desk, bookshelves, a desk chair, ridiculously overpriced (but orange and eclectic) cardboard boxes, 2 lamps and a plethora of chocolate.



The Desk (where brilliance will pour out of my mind and through my keyboard)



Ikea LACK shelves, which, thanks to roommate Joel, will stay mounted to the wall through the most horrendous earthquake possible.





Oh, and I got a renters insurance policy in the event that I burn down the house trying to power all the machinery it takes to bring you this hilariously lively recollection of my daily happenings.

So, you can see that I was Ikea's favorite shopper this weekend, but oh wait...there's more. I have a bathroom. Yes, my very.own.bathroom. Whoever heard of such a thing?



Watercolors. My heart. My happiness.



A touch of Johanna in my bathroom!



And the most colorful collection of towels in existence

Now you make think I'm ridiculous for posting pictures of my newly decorated abode online, but this weekend marked a very significant event in my 20's. Not only have I driven 2,200 miles to live out my California dream- but until this weekend, I'd never bought entirely new furniture, much less had the MONEY to buy entirely new furniture, on my own. By myself.

THE DECLARATIVE SENTENCES ARE FOR EMPHASIS!

I did this on my own. With my own money. I made my own decisions and I am proud of them, fulfilled by them.



Of course I have the "Wall O' Ryan," a shrine to my most beloved man.

What I have yet to enlightened you on are the 3 interstates that whip and wind, crossing over and dipping beneath one another- the labyrinth of bravery in which I (not once, but TWICE) overcame in order to get to Ikea.
The trip started out innocent enough. The view from anywhere on the California coastline is marvelous.



I live here? What?



Emeryville rests near the water. Upon entering Caldecott Tunnel you smell the damp ocean wind trapped in the cylindrical pathway that leads you from your landlocked blues to a skyline full of sails and barges. The entire route the GPS yells EXIT HERE, MERGE HERE! We're back to the winding maze that initially terrified me. CA-24, i-680, i-580, all coming up at a moments notice.
Something I learned this weekend: never, EVER get on to a California interstate if you think, for even a MOMENT, that you may have to urinate in the next hour. Traffic can suddenly halt for no visible reason at all and stay that way just long enough for you to debate the shame of leaning against your car and peeing in front of strangers. Additionally, have a pack of smokes- a full pack - whether you smoke or not. You'll need them. I promise. However, this also requires that you have an ashtray in your car. A portable one is preferable so you can empty it regularly. No one likes a stinky car and there's a sign every 5 or so miles warning of 1) Littering is a $300 fine MINIMUM and 2) All litter winds up in the ocean. If you've ever seen Finding Nemo or the Bay at sunset, you'll never again throw a smoke out the window.
And so, the week begins with two reminders that I have made the best decision of my life.
The first reminds me of my mother, of the greenhouses, of painting on the sides of my dressers while listening to Jewel during my angst-y early teen years:

This single yellow snapdragon survived the menacing canines of the previous tenant and is blossoming in the cracks of the backyard landscape.

And finally...the most telltale sign of all.



This, my friends, is the exact same species of plant, and nearly the same size, as the one that inhabited my apartment with Ryan for a year. He loved this plant more than life itself because his gram-gram gave it to him as a housewarming gift. When I drove him to Chicago it wouldn't fit in the car and we gave it to a lovely pedestrian who drug it home with her. But here it is, somehow, miraculously, growing full force in my California backyard reminding me yet again, that my loves may be spread across the country, but my heart is always within my chest. What a wonderful life I lead.