The Last Meal

I am writing to you while I am surrounded by packing tape, boxes, dust bunnies, and furniture out of place. I am writing to you after two weeks of a brand-new job that is going fabulously well, and a notification I received last Friday that I had to vacate my apartment for "unfortunate circumstances". I'll spare you the bad details, (it wasn't an eviction notice), but in one weekend my parents and I searched, looked, viewed, and found a new apartment that is larger, brighter, nicer....and it has a bigger kitchen.
I also had to say goodbye to my old computer, which crashed on me last Monday and never really got back to it's old self again. I am writing to you from a newer version of itself. In 14 days my life went from unemployed to very employed, from apartment to apartment, from depressed to back to good spirits, and from an old computer to a shiny new one.

I think I'm kind of tired....

I am writing to you while sitting in an apartment that I only moved into 6 months ago.
While I hate like heck to leave this place (especially the gas stove, it's proximity to New Seasons, and it's surprisingly short distance to two bars, a famous bagel place, and the best breakfast restaurant Portland has to offer), I am looking forward to moving into another apartment. It is about the size of a duplex, with two floors, two bedrooms (!), and even a patio.
So far this year I've taken a few surprising (and unnannounced) bumps in the road, lemons, bad moments (or whatever you call it now) and done my best to turn it around into a smooth shoulder, lemon pound cake, and a good time. The year isn't over yet, and neither is summer - I'm both excited and scared for what the next 4 months of 2009 holds.
Upon hearing the news that I needed to vacate my apartment, and after my mom and I pinned down the new place, I invited my good friend Sarah over for one last meal in this apartment (she lived here before I did). The above picture is what we ate: a simple meal that held all the goods. Kale, salami, chevre, fresh bread, Kalamata olives, and cherry tomatoes. All of which was washed down with a $7 bottle of Chianti. We sat in my little window that pushes out into a makeshift balcony and listened to the traffic outside die down so we could listen to the silence.
Both Sarah and I have endured the heat this apartment holds in the summer. Sarah can tell you stories of how the front door freezes shut in the winter. We both know how cool it is to have the balcony. We both love the makeshift fireplace that serves as the sole heater in the apartment. We both hate those attic stairs while doing laundry. We both know it only takes 20 seconds to get from the front door to Kettleman's Bagels in the morning. Everything here was simple, quaint, and cozy.
This is my last night here. I feel very fortunate to have been laid off during the time I was here because I got to spend a lot of time in this apartment just before I had to leave it. I also feel very fortunate to have started this blog while living here, because I got A LOT of use out of that gas stove. I am also glad that a lot of those unexpected turns in life happened while I was living here.
I intend my next post to be from the new place. It might take me a while, I don't know what the next week or two will hold (maybe even a permanent position at the place I am currently at, which is right now, temporary). Hopefully though I can fill you in on the first meal I made to break in the stove, and share with you (FINALLY) another recipe.