Blessed.
I don't use that word much. But this year? I felt truly blessed. I mean, it could have been the gallon of sangria that I drank over the four days that I was at my parents' house, but I think the feeling of loving the whole world was present before the sangria. The sangria just helped me express it. (Over and over and over.)
I'm not exaggerating about the sangria.
In a fit of insanity on their parts, two friends agreed to accompany me to the parental homestead for the Thanksgiving feast. We all fit into one car (with the dog) despite the best efforts of one of us (who shall remain nameless) who brought a suitcase the size of Rhode Island.) We played Rock Band. And ate pie. One of us shot a crossbow. One of us made fudge. One of us made a perfect apple pie. We helped with Christmas decorations. We played Mexican train dominoes. And we laughed. And laughed. And then laughed some more.
The toast that I gave on Thanksgiving went something like, "To good friends and loving family who, in the best of both worlds, are one and the same."
I am so lucky to be surrounded by so many people that I love and who love me in return. It made for a perfect weekend.
I will do my best to post more details in the upcoming days. Don't think that the Rhode Island-sized suitcase is getting off THAT easily.
Showing posts with label z. Show all posts
Showing posts with label z. Show all posts
Monday, November 29, 2010
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
Wind Blows
I've been biking this summer. I think I may have written about it a time or two. The official goal of the summer was to ride 1000 miles. I accomplished that early and easily. The unofficial goal of the summer was to complete the 100 Km course of the Great Pumpkin Metric.
I did not discuss this unofficial goal for a couple of reasons. First, I wasn't sure I would accomplish it. Stubborn or not, there comes a point where you can't pedal anymore. I almost hit that point when we did a 50-mile ride, so I was dubious about completing a 62-mile ride in Southern Indiana. With hills. Second, the Great Pumpkin Metric is held in my hometown. I was equal parts excited and stressed-as-hell about bringing my Indianapolis family down to meet my Evansville family. I didn't really want to explore the source of the stress or the possibilities of the nuclear explosions that could have occurred had my worst fears played out.
Instead it was fantastically awesome.
I mean, not all of it was fantastically awesome of course. Riding 65 plus miles into a wind that seemed to be a headwind in all directions was pretty sucky. Riding that ride in 41
degree weather that only warmed up to 61 degrees was also not fun. In fact, I wasn't entirely convinced that we weren't going to ride the 50 Km route until we actually passed the spot where the two routes diverged. (I don't have a picture of that spot, so you'll have to make do with this one that I stole.) Luckily zlionsfan was unshakable in his belief that we were going to ride 100 Km, so when the time came to make the fateful turn, I didn't even have time to get off my bike and take a picture to document the occasion. I just had to pedal faster to catch up to him and ask him if he was sure? I mean, we could always do the 50 Km, and if we have enough energy, do the 50 Km route again.
Nope. We were doing the 100 Km route.
At first it wasn't terrible. Then, somewhere around 35 miles I found out that singing was the best defense I had against the ache in my legs. I went to my happy place and, as I later told my father, apparently my happy place is filled with John Denver. Or maybe those are most of the songs that I know the words to, given that my father has been singing them to me since birth. Regardless, I was singing to distract myself from the discomfort. That continued until the end of the route, though at the end I was singing mostly to myself since I couldn't find the energy to sing out loud.
I do like to pretend that I can sing.
So that part was not so fun. I mean, the feeling of accomplishment was awesome, and the scenery was gorgeous. It was just that pesky wind. I even penned a letter to the wind while we were riding.
Dear Wind,
This ride is difficult enough without you in my face. Go blow yourself.
Sincerely,
me
I still think we'll do it again next year.
Other than that, my parents seemed to enjoy the company of my Indianapolis family. And why not? They are intelligent, funny, nice, silly people who are fully capable of laughing at themselves. Those are all qualities that are highly valued in my family. And my Indianapolis family? Well, they seemed to have fun as well. Although I'm sure the dominoes, bbq, and Fall Festival food did not hurt. Me? I drowned my stress in sangria. It seemed to work out alright. We might even do it again sometime.
Okay. I downplay. It was a great weekend for me. I could have stayed forever. I mean, what was there not to love? There was no stress. This, in and of itself would have been a great respite following my vet school application submission, but in addition to that, save the absence of the boy (who had to work,) I was surrounded by all the people that I love and they were all getting along. Everyone who knows every little dark corner of me (in Indiana*) was in one room and not only were we all laughing, I beat them all in dominoes. Whilst drinking copious amounts of sangria. What more could I have asked for? It was like the best possible meeting of two worlds. I think both sides learned interesting things that they can use for blackmail later. (but they won't, cuz they loooooooooove me. :-)
As a result, coming back to the real world was a bit of a letdown. Strike that. Coming back to WORK was a bit of a letdown. So now we start crossing our fingers for that vet school application thing. Good thoughts are appreciated. I promise to keep you updated one way or another.
And I would say that the bike is being put away until next year, but I found out that there's this other ride. And it involves beer. That can't possibly end badly, can it?
*There are others, but they're scattered across the US. I figure I won't get the entire group together until something truly important happens. Like, say, a vet school graduation?
I did not discuss this unofficial goal for a couple of reasons. First, I wasn't sure I would accomplish it. Stubborn or not, there comes a point where you can't pedal anymore. I almost hit that point when we did a 50-mile ride, so I was dubious about completing a 62-mile ride in Southern Indiana. With hills. Second, the Great Pumpkin Metric is held in my hometown. I was equal parts excited and stressed-as-hell about bringing my Indianapolis family down to meet my Evansville family. I didn't really want to explore the source of the stress or the possibilities of the nuclear explosions that could have occurred had my worst fears played out.
Instead it was fantastically awesome.
I mean, not all of it was fantastically awesome of course. Riding 65 plus miles into a wind that seemed to be a headwind in all directions was pretty sucky. Riding that ride in 41
degree weather that only warmed up to 61 degrees was also not fun. In fact, I wasn't entirely convinced that we weren't going to ride the 50 Km route until we actually passed the spot where the two routes diverged. (I don't have a picture of that spot, so you'll have to make do with this one that I stole.) Luckily zlionsfan was unshakable in his belief that we were going to ride 100 Km, so when the time came to make the fateful turn, I didn't even have time to get off my bike and take a picture to document the occasion. I just had to pedal faster to catch up to him and ask him if he was sure? I mean, we could always do the 50 Km, and if we have enough energy, do the 50 Km route again.Nope. We were doing the 100 Km route.
At first it wasn't terrible. Then, somewhere around 35 miles I found out that singing was the best defense I had against the ache in my legs. I went to my happy place and, as I later told my father, apparently my happy place is filled with John Denver. Or maybe those are most of the songs that I know the words to, given that my father has been singing them to me since birth. Regardless, I was singing to distract myself from the discomfort. That continued until the end of the route, though at the end I was singing mostly to myself since I couldn't find the energy to sing out loud.
I do like to pretend that I can sing.
So that part was not so fun. I mean, the feeling of accomplishment was awesome, and the scenery was gorgeous. It was just that pesky wind. I even penned a letter to the wind while we were riding.
Dear Wind,
This ride is difficult enough without you in my face. Go blow yourself.
Sincerely,
me
I still think we'll do it again next year.
Other than that, my parents seemed to enjoy the company of my Indianapolis family. And why not? They are intelligent, funny, nice, silly people who are fully capable of laughing at themselves. Those are all qualities that are highly valued in my family. And my Indianapolis family? Well, they seemed to have fun as well. Although I'm sure the dominoes, bbq, and Fall Festival food did not hurt. Me? I drowned my stress in sangria. It seemed to work out alright. We might even do it again sometime.
Okay. I downplay. It was a great weekend for me. I could have stayed forever. I mean, what was there not to love? There was no stress. This, in and of itself would have been a great respite following my vet school application submission, but in addition to that, save the absence of the boy (who had to work,) I was surrounded by all the people that I love and they were all getting along. Everyone who knows every little dark corner of me (in Indiana*) was in one room and not only were we all laughing, I beat them all in dominoes. Whilst drinking copious amounts of sangria. What more could I have asked for? It was like the best possible meeting of two worlds. I think both sides learned interesting things that they can use for blackmail later. (but they won't, cuz they loooooooooove me. :-)
As a result, coming back to the real world was a bit of a letdown. Strike that. Coming back to WORK was a bit of a letdown. So now we start crossing our fingers for that vet school application thing. Good thoughts are appreciated. I promise to keep you updated one way or another.
And I would say that the bike is being put away until next year, but I found out that there's this other ride. And it involves beer. That can't possibly end badly, can it?
*There are others, but they're scattered across the US. I figure I won't get the entire group together until something truly important happens. Like, say, a vet school graduation?
Thursday, August 05, 2010
Life Lessons
Here's the thing. I'm a bit competitive. I think I may have blogged about it a time or two. In fact, this is the main motivator in my life. No joke. You see me dragging my feet over something I don't want to do? Make it into a competition. Done. It's just that simple.
Well, not really. Because I'm on to you. So it has to be made into a competition in a way that doesn't feel like you're manipulating me. The best way to get around this is to make it a competition with someone I dislike. Then, even if I feel you're manipulating me, I can't resist. I'm dead serious here. It's very sad. I can hear my cousin and z snickering about it right now.
But last year, my dear friend Candy taught me an important lesson about competition.
As part of her wellness team at work, Candy put together a team to walk in the Jingle Bell Run/Walk. I had run this 5K before and thought it was great fun, so I agreed to participate on her team.
The morning of the 5K dawned sunny, but cold. I was wearing at least three layers under my team shirt and a sock hat in an effort to stay warm. Still, the mood was festive as we looked at the colorful costumes around us. There were running reindeer, Christmas trees, and even a family that was dressed as a string of lights, each a different color and connected by a cord. They were pulling a wagon in which sat a child with a radio blaring Christmas music.
The trouble began when I found out that one of the teammates was planning on running the 5K. No big deal, right? Except that ANOTHER teammate wanted to be at the starting line to take his picture. And then wanted to come back and join the rest of the team to walk. The solution to this? He would wait at the start/finish line until the runners began, and then come back to where our team was huddled. We would wait for him to return before beginning the walk.
I was uneasy with this from the start. First, we were already huddled near the rear of the crowd of people participating. Second, once the starting bell rang, the entire mass of people surged forward... around us as we stayed frozen waiting for our teammate.
I tried to inch forward with the crowd, certain that our lost teammate would eventually find us, but Candy was oblivious to my pain, and insistent on staying right where we were. I took deep breaths as more and more people passed us on their way to the starting line.
"It's okay Emily. This is not a race. You are not in this to win. You don't have to be competitive all the time."
Finally, our teammate showed up. We were free to walk. WHEEE!
I'll admit, Candy was not happy with the pace that I set. We were already far enough back that I was uncomfortable, so I wanted to make up some ground. Our team stretched out as we each settled into our pace. When we came to a portion of the route that doubled back on ourselves, I was at once both dismayed at how far back we were, and relieved at the "safe" number of people behind us. At least we wouldn't be last.
As we finished the double back, Candy mentioned that she wanted to stop and get a picture of the rest of the team coming up behind us.
STOP?! I won't lie. I had to bite my tongue. Hard. Eeek!! Still, it wasn't my event, so stop we did. To take pictures. To POSE FOR PICTURES. It was the worst form of torture because Candy didn't even know what was happening.
More and more people passed us. The string of lights family? Yep. Passed us. Pulling a wagon. The end of the line drew near.
Oh HELL no. This was not going to happen. I set a quicker pace after the picture stop. Eventually Candy mentioned that we were walking a bit faster than she preferred and I was forced to confess what I was going through. She laughed at me. Thinking she was not competitive, she thought I was being ridiculous and slowed down. She had conversations with teammates and others around us. She was outgoing and friendly as is her nature. She was also completely unconcerned with the people passing us.
Meanwhile, I watched in despair as the radio playing Christmas music got further and further ahead. "This is not a race. It's okay to not be competitive." I chanted this internally as I walked.
In the end, we finished with only two people behind us. Third and fourth from LAST. OMG. It hurts to even type that now, almost eight months later. One lady behind us was telling us how much it meant to her to be able to walk in the arthritis walk since arthritis had been such a crippling disease in her life.
I felt for her. I really really did. But that was outweighed by the fear that she was going to pass us, so I avoided eye contact and kept walking.
When the results came in (that I'm not going to link to) and Candy sent them to me, I was relieved by two things. 1) I wasn't last, and 2) I came in ahead of Candy.
That's right. I said it. I was glad I beat my friend. The "non competitive one" who later recanted and expressed a desire to never finish that far down in the standings again. Uh huh. Who's competitive now??
Being last sucks. Being competitive is better. Lesson learned.
Well, not really. Because I'm on to you. So it has to be made into a competition in a way that doesn't feel like you're manipulating me. The best way to get around this is to make it a competition with someone I dislike. Then, even if I feel you're manipulating me, I can't resist. I'm dead serious here. It's very sad. I can hear my cousin and z snickering about it right now.
But last year, my dear friend Candy taught me an important lesson about competition.
As part of her wellness team at work, Candy put together a team to walk in the Jingle Bell Run/Walk. I had run this 5K before and thought it was great fun, so I agreed to participate on her team.
The morning of the 5K dawned sunny, but cold. I was wearing at least three layers under my team shirt and a sock hat in an effort to stay warm. Still, the mood was festive as we looked at the colorful costumes around us. There were running reindeer, Christmas trees, and even a family that was dressed as a string of lights, each a different color and connected by a cord. They were pulling a wagon in which sat a child with a radio blaring Christmas music.
The trouble began when I found out that one of the teammates was planning on running the 5K. No big deal, right? Except that ANOTHER teammate wanted to be at the starting line to take his picture. And then wanted to come back and join the rest of the team to walk. The solution to this? He would wait at the start/finish line until the runners began, and then come back to where our team was huddled. We would wait for him to return before beginning the walk.
I was uneasy with this from the start. First, we were already huddled near the rear of the crowd of people participating. Second, once the starting bell rang, the entire mass of people surged forward... around us as we stayed frozen waiting for our teammate.
I tried to inch forward with the crowd, certain that our lost teammate would eventually find us, but Candy was oblivious to my pain, and insistent on staying right where we were. I took deep breaths as more and more people passed us on their way to the starting line.
"It's okay Emily. This is not a race. You are not in this to win. You don't have to be competitive all the time."
Finally, our teammate showed up. We were free to walk. WHEEE!
I'll admit, Candy was not happy with the pace that I set. We were already far enough back that I was uncomfortable, so I wanted to make up some ground. Our team stretched out as we each settled into our pace. When we came to a portion of the route that doubled back on ourselves, I was at once both dismayed at how far back we were, and relieved at the "safe" number of people behind us. At least we wouldn't be last.
As we finished the double back, Candy mentioned that she wanted to stop and get a picture of the rest of the team coming up behind us.
STOP?! I won't lie. I had to bite my tongue. Hard. Eeek!! Still, it wasn't my event, so stop we did. To take pictures. To POSE FOR PICTURES. It was the worst form of torture because Candy didn't even know what was happening.
More and more people passed us. The string of lights family? Yep. Passed us. Pulling a wagon. The end of the line drew near.
Oh HELL no. This was not going to happen. I set a quicker pace after the picture stop. Eventually Candy mentioned that we were walking a bit faster than she preferred and I was forced to confess what I was going through. She laughed at me. Thinking she was not competitive, she thought I was being ridiculous and slowed down. She had conversations with teammates and others around us. She was outgoing and friendly as is her nature. She was also completely unconcerned with the people passing us.
Meanwhile, I watched in despair as the radio playing Christmas music got further and further ahead. "This is not a race. It's okay to not be competitive." I chanted this internally as I walked.
In the end, we finished with only two people behind us. Third and fourth from LAST. OMG. It hurts to even type that now, almost eight months later. One lady behind us was telling us how much it meant to her to be able to walk in the arthritis walk since arthritis had been such a crippling disease in her life.
I felt for her. I really really did. But that was outweighed by the fear that she was going to pass us, so I avoided eye contact and kept walking.
When the results came in (that I'm not going to link to) and Candy sent them to me, I was relieved by two things. 1) I wasn't last, and 2) I came in ahead of Candy.
That's right. I said it. I was glad I beat my friend. The "non competitive one" who later recanted and expressed a desire to never finish that far down in the standings again. Uh huh. Who's competitive now??
Being last sucks. Being competitive is better. Lesson learned.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Adventures in Bike Riding Pt. I
Well, that didn't take long, did it?
Today is Wednesday, which marks the third day of the first week that I've decided to commit to yet another ridiculous goal. It's actually the second day that I've ridden to work because yesterday morning was a bit damp, and I chickened out. (A fact for which I've since overcompensated.) Turns out that was a complete over-reaction because the afternoon turned out to be beautiful, and we were able to go on our somewhat regular group ride.
Which leads me to my first adventure.
We were meeting at a location about 3.5 miles from my house, so I thought to myself, "Self, I'll just ride there to meet everyone since I didn't ride to work today. That will make up my 7 miles for the day."
This turned out to be my first error.
My second error was when I said, "Candy - you're leading."
The ride was enjoyable, as group bike rides often are. We didn't push ourselves too hard, and we went on a path that was pretty uncrowded. The guys let the girls set the pace, and at one point, Candy and I got a bit competitive and sprinted to beat each other.
After that I decided that I would just hang out at the back of the pack. The very back. In fact, one might have said I was "lagging behind" if one wanted to get punched in the knees.
So with Candy in the lead, we just kept riding and riding....and riding....and riding. Until I looked down and the clock said 7:15pm. We had been riding for one hour. One way.
"Um, if it took us an hour to get here, it will take us an hour to get back, and I still have to ride home before dark. Maybe we should turn around?"
I said this tentatively, which was my third mistake. Because apparently Candy really REALLY wanted to get to the end of the trail. Luckily, z was the voice of common sense and simply turned around on the spot.
So the boys were leading the way home. At a pace a bit faster than what the girls had set. After over an hour of riding. And after an ill advised competitive sprint.
I'm not going to lie, I called them some nasty names. Fortunately I was far enough behind that they couldn't hear me. Until I mustered the last of my waning strength, sprinted to catch up to them, and explained what would happen if they didn't slow down.
So slow down they did. And the rest of the ride passed uneventfully until my solo leg home. (but that's another blog for another day.)
I think Candy mentioned in her blog that one of her goals last summer was to ride a marathon (26.2 miles) all in one ride. She worked up to that goal for a few weeks before attempting it and actually ended up riding farther than that on a few occasions - once she had worked up to it.
So you can imagine my surprise last night when I looked down at my odometer and I had ridden a total of 26.8 miles. On my second group ride of the season. After approximately eight months of school that included minimal working out. So there was no "working up to it." I still have noodle legs this morning.*
And that's how I learned that Candy doesn't get to lead group rides anymore.
But at least I'm well on my way to 50 miles this week, right?
*Exacerbated by the fact that I rode in to work today as an overcompensation for yesterday. Why yes, the heavens just opened up and it's pouring down rain. Thank you for asking.
Today is Wednesday, which marks the third day of the first week that I've decided to commit to yet another ridiculous goal. It's actually the second day that I've ridden to work because yesterday morning was a bit damp, and I chickened out. (A fact for which I've since overcompensated.) Turns out that was a complete over-reaction because the afternoon turned out to be beautiful, and we were able to go on our somewhat regular group ride.
Which leads me to my first adventure.
We were meeting at a location about 3.5 miles from my house, so I thought to myself, "Self, I'll just ride there to meet everyone since I didn't ride to work today. That will make up my 7 miles for the day."
This turned out to be my first error.
My second error was when I said, "Candy - you're leading."
The ride was enjoyable, as group bike rides often are. We didn't push ourselves too hard, and we went on a path that was pretty uncrowded. The guys let the girls set the pace, and at one point, Candy and I got a bit competitive and sprinted to beat each other.
After that I decided that I would just hang out at the back of the pack. The very back. In fact, one might have said I was "lagging behind" if one wanted to get punched in the knees.
So with Candy in the lead, we just kept riding and riding....and riding....and riding. Until I looked down and the clock said 7:15pm. We had been riding for one hour. One way.
"Um, if it took us an hour to get here, it will take us an hour to get back, and I still have to ride home before dark. Maybe we should turn around?"
I said this tentatively, which was my third mistake. Because apparently Candy really REALLY wanted to get to the end of the trail. Luckily, z was the voice of common sense and simply turned around on the spot.
So the boys were leading the way home. At a pace a bit faster than what the girls had set. After over an hour of riding. And after an ill advised competitive sprint.
I'm not going to lie, I called them some nasty names. Fortunately I was far enough behind that they couldn't hear me. Until I mustered the last of my waning strength, sprinted to catch up to them, and explained what would happen if they didn't slow down.
So slow down they did. And the rest of the ride passed uneventfully until my solo leg home. (but that's another blog for another day.)
I think Candy mentioned in her blog that one of her goals last summer was to ride a marathon (26.2 miles) all in one ride. She worked up to that goal for a few weeks before attempting it and actually ended up riding farther than that on a few occasions - once she had worked up to it.
So you can imagine my surprise last night when I looked down at my odometer and I had ridden a total of 26.8 miles. On my second group ride of the season. After approximately eight months of school that included minimal working out. So there was no "working up to it." I still have noodle legs this morning.*
And that's how I learned that Candy doesn't get to lead group rides anymore.
But at least I'm well on my way to 50 miles this week, right?
*Exacerbated by the fact that I rode in to work today as an overcompensation for yesterday. Why yes, the heavens just opened up and it's pouring down rain. Thank you for asking.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Unique New York*
My alma mater won last night. Maybe you heard. If not, feast your eyes on highlights:
And it's sort of a big deal that they won. Sort of a "they've never made it to this level of tournament play before" big deal. But I know that a lot of my friends don't really follow basketball and, you know...to each their own. Whatever. But I do. Specifically, I care about the NCAA tournament, and to be even more specific, I care about Butler in the NCAA tournament. So I was pretty excited about this win.
I didn't get to see one minute of the game, thanks to ochem.
What occurred instead was one of the most unique situations that I've ever been in.
Thinking ahead, I set up z and the boy to send me text updates as the game progressed. I knew I would have zero access to internet or to a TV during my lab, so I thought the text messages would be the best option to keep up on the game. What ensued was hilarious.
The first part of my lab was a lecture. In the basement of the science building. Where cell reception is spotty anyway. And where my lab TA has been known to confiscate cell phones that make noise. (true story.) So I set my phone to silent and took the desk closest to the door of the classroom. I put the phone on my desk and kept surreptitiously checking when a new text would come in. I would carefully type responses so as not to draw too much attention as the lecture progressed. Keep in mind that this was happening in a class of 13 people. THIRTEEN. Looking back, I'm pretty certain the lecturer knew that I was up to something.
As fate would have it, the lecture broke right as we hit halftime, and I got my final update: "35-25 at halftime. Fewest points in 1st half, biggest deficit at halftime for Syracuse." I almost danced up the stairs to the lab where we would begin our experiment, and started plotting ways to keep my phone in my back pocket, but still be able to check messages regularly.
On our way to the lab, I heard the lecturer (who was also leading this lab) ask someone else if they knew the Butler score. I almost tripped up the stairs, when I whirled around to blurt "35-25." He responded, "Syracuse?" to which I answered, "Nope. Butler. Can you believe it?"
What followed was a three minute conversation about Butler's chances, how the first half had gone, and how we couldn't believe they were up 10.
After that conversation, I went ahead and took the liberty of placing my cell phone in the same hood where my partner and I were conducting our experiment. Since the lab leader kept coming by to get the updates that I was getting, I figured I had a bit of license to be somewhat distracted.
Because both z and the boy were sending updates, I was getting different perspectives. When Syracuse pulled ahead, z was careful to never tell me the score...only who had possession and what foul had just been committed. The boy's updates were more irregular and more shorthanded (almost to the point where they could not be understood) but since he was giving me the score as Syracuse first caught up to, and then passed Butler, I could understand his stress.
Then suddenly, for a good five to ten minutes, both boys stopped sending updates. This coincided with a point in my experiment where I was washing my product with reagent and letting it sit for five minutes at a time - three washes. Three intervals of five minutes to obsessively check my phone for updates when, during the last two washes, none were forthcoming. I was fah-reaking out. We've already discussed how I can not handle suspense. And I had nothing. No way to check anything that was going on.
And then there was an explosion.
It seemed that everyone I knew was sending me a message. From "down by 4...they can't buy a basket... 4 min left," to "Woah, your boys r gonna win crazy!" to "holy shit!" to "62-56," "63-56. Syracuse ball," "63-58. 23.6. Foul on Syracuse," "Missed. Foul on Butler. In bounds to Syracuse," "12.7. Shooting foul on Butler. Almost made the shot too," "63-59," "Missed the second! Foul on Syracuse. Two shots. 9.9," "Missed the first," and finally "BUTLER WINS!"
These came in one after another after another. At one point I had 13 messages that I just could not keep up with even though I was reading them as they came in. Usually the first update would come from z (most of the messages above) and would be shortly followed by some variation of the same information from the boy. And then? Then came the Facebook updates after the win where EVERYONE freaked out.
It was unreal.
I know the game was stressful. I've seen the highlights and sorted through the text messages. Watching it would have been awesome. But this was a completely unique experience that was not the completely miserable situation I anticipated. My experience was tension from not knowing. Was jumping up and down while impatiently awaiting the next update and still managing to focus enough to time my reagent washes. My experience was excited chatter with others who didn't really have a stake in the game, but were catching on to my nervous excitement. It was sorting through a plethora of information that came all at once after a long period of knowing nothing at all. And finally it was jubilation that my team had just earned a huge win.
I was supposed to go home and go to sleep after that? No way. I live about five blocks from campus (if that) and if you stepped out on my porch in the rain, you could hear the noise from the students. I couldn't sleep. I watched highlights, I read Facebook posts, and I reveled in the excitement.
And I know that sports don't really matter. I know that I could be posting about any of several other more serious topics in the news lately. But when your team is the David that just beat Goliath? When the underdog gets a chance to say "Nah nah na nah naaaaaah?" It's a unique type of celebratory feeling. One that you want to revel in. To roll around in like a dog in an interesting smell. So that's my PSA for today. Get into sports. It's cheaper than drugs, and the highs are just as high. (just don't ask z about the lows.)
Now cross your fingers for Butler's next game at 4:30pm on Saturday, and if you have a time machine so that I can get study time in (for two tests!!) in ADDITION to watching that game? It would be appreciated.
*bonus points if you can tell me which movie the title came from.
And it's sort of a big deal that they won. Sort of a "they've never made it to this level of tournament play before" big deal. But I know that a lot of my friends don't really follow basketball and, you know...to each their own. Whatever. But I do. Specifically, I care about the NCAA tournament, and to be even more specific, I care about Butler in the NCAA tournament. So I was pretty excited about this win.
I didn't get to see one minute of the game, thanks to ochem.
What occurred instead was one of the most unique situations that I've ever been in.
Thinking ahead, I set up z and the boy to send me text updates as the game progressed. I knew I would have zero access to internet or to a TV during my lab, so I thought the text messages would be the best option to keep up on the game. What ensued was hilarious.
The first part of my lab was a lecture. In the basement of the science building. Where cell reception is spotty anyway. And where my lab TA has been known to confiscate cell phones that make noise. (true story.) So I set my phone to silent and took the desk closest to the door of the classroom. I put the phone on my desk and kept surreptitiously checking when a new text would come in. I would carefully type responses so as not to draw too much attention as the lecture progressed. Keep in mind that this was happening in a class of 13 people. THIRTEEN. Looking back, I'm pretty certain the lecturer knew that I was up to something.
As fate would have it, the lecture broke right as we hit halftime, and I got my final update: "35-25 at halftime. Fewest points in 1st half, biggest deficit at halftime for Syracuse." I almost danced up the stairs to the lab where we would begin our experiment, and started plotting ways to keep my phone in my back pocket, but still be able to check messages regularly.
On our way to the lab, I heard the lecturer (who was also leading this lab) ask someone else if they knew the Butler score. I almost tripped up the stairs, when I whirled around to blurt "35-25." He responded, "Syracuse?" to which I answered, "Nope. Butler. Can you believe it?"
What followed was a three minute conversation about Butler's chances, how the first half had gone, and how we couldn't believe they were up 10.
After that conversation, I went ahead and took the liberty of placing my cell phone in the same hood where my partner and I were conducting our experiment. Since the lab leader kept coming by to get the updates that I was getting, I figured I had a bit of license to be somewhat distracted.
Because both z and the boy were sending updates, I was getting different perspectives. When Syracuse pulled ahead, z was careful to never tell me the score...only who had possession and what foul had just been committed. The boy's updates were more irregular and more shorthanded (almost to the point where they could not be understood) but since he was giving me the score as Syracuse first caught up to, and then passed Butler, I could understand his stress.
Then suddenly, for a good five to ten minutes, both boys stopped sending updates. This coincided with a point in my experiment where I was washing my product with reagent and letting it sit for five minutes at a time - three washes. Three intervals of five minutes to obsessively check my phone for updates when, during the last two washes, none were forthcoming. I was fah-reaking out. We've already discussed how I can not handle suspense. And I had nothing. No way to check anything that was going on.
And then there was an explosion.
It seemed that everyone I knew was sending me a message. From "down by 4...they can't buy a basket... 4 min left," to "Woah, your boys r gonna win crazy!" to "holy shit!" to "62-56," "63-56. Syracuse ball," "63-58. 23.6. Foul on Syracuse," "Missed. Foul on Butler. In bounds to Syracuse," "12.7. Shooting foul on Butler. Almost made the shot too," "63-59," "Missed the second! Foul on Syracuse. Two shots. 9.9," "Missed the first," and finally "BUTLER WINS!"
These came in one after another after another. At one point I had 13 messages that I just could not keep up with even though I was reading them as they came in. Usually the first update would come from z (most of the messages above) and would be shortly followed by some variation of the same information from the boy. And then? Then came the Facebook updates after the win where EVERYONE freaked out.
It was unreal.
I know the game was stressful. I've seen the highlights and sorted through the text messages. Watching it would have been awesome. But this was a completely unique experience that was not the completely miserable situation I anticipated. My experience was tension from not knowing. Was jumping up and down while impatiently awaiting the next update and still managing to focus enough to time my reagent washes. My experience was excited chatter with others who didn't really have a stake in the game, but were catching on to my nervous excitement. It was sorting through a plethora of information that came all at once after a long period of knowing nothing at all. And finally it was jubilation that my team had just earned a huge win.
I was supposed to go home and go to sleep after that? No way. I live about five blocks from campus (if that) and if you stepped out on my porch in the rain, you could hear the noise from the students. I couldn't sleep. I watched highlights, I read Facebook posts, and I reveled in the excitement.
And I know that sports don't really matter. I know that I could be posting about any of several other more serious topics in the news lately. But when your team is the David that just beat Goliath? When the underdog gets a chance to say "Nah nah na nah naaaaaah?" It's a unique type of celebratory feeling. One that you want to revel in. To roll around in like a dog in an interesting smell. So that's my PSA for today. Get into sports. It's cheaper than drugs, and the highs are just as high. (just don't ask z about the lows.)
Now cross your fingers for Butler's next game at 4:30pm on Saturday, and if you have a time machine so that I can get study time in (for two tests!!) in ADDITION to watching that game? It would be appreciated.
*bonus points if you can tell me which movie the title came from.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Gratitude
Thank you, IUPUI, for taking the majority of my salary each month and forcing me to subsist on a diet of ramen noodles and parmesan cheese. I'll remember you when I'm making scads of money, um....running a low cost animal clinic. Yeah.
Thanks to the boy for putting up with me for over five years (!!!)
and still making me laugh on a regular basis. (when he's not making me cry...or want to throttle him...) And thanks again for taking out my trash last night because you know I always forget, and there was no more room in my trash can for another week's worth of refuse. I love how you randomly notice and do things like that.
Thanks to you, Casey for FINALLY chilling out this year. I loved the puppy years, but something tells me that the dog years will be that much better.
Thanks to my mother for only being slightly frosty after I explained that I would not be heading to the homestead for Thanksgiving. I need to relax, mom. I haven't said much (because what's the use in complaining really) but what I'm doing is tough. And while I can handle it, it's only by the skin of my teeth. So I'm tired. I need to sleep and catch up on things at home. The thought of four! whole! days! with no school and no work makes me happier than anything else could right now. Thank you for giving me that gift. I am more grateful for you and dad than I could ever express, and I can't wait to see you at Christmastime.
Thanks to the friends that I won't get to see this holiday season. You guys crack me up on a regular basis. I love each and every one of you, and the worst part of being so busy lately is the lack of time I get to spend with you or talking to you.
Specific thanks to Candy for organizing a weight loss challenge that spurred me to lose 10lbs. I truly appreciate you giving me motivation when I had none but needed it badly. FYI, after the dinner we ate today I'm going to need you to go ahead and organize another one. kthxbai.
Thank you, cuz. You rock. We played Rock Band to celebrate turkey day and I totally thought of you guys.
Thanks, z. There really aren't words. (Seriously still can't believe that you know how to cook turkey. It was fantastic btw.)
I'm going to go ahead and give a tentative early thanks to my organic chem professor for passing me this semester. (ohpleasepleaseplease)
Thanks, Minnesota for beating Butler's basketball team today. Best we get any losses over with early in the season. Hopefully this will be our only one. (and then maybe my bracket picks won't be so ridiculous.)
Thank you for every blog comment that you leave. I love the interaction and that I can keep you entertained. Keep 'em coming and I promise to do my best to write regularly.
What are you thankful for? Leave me a comment. Real or facetious, I would love to know.
PS. It was Casey's birthday yesterday. She turned four. I think I'll keep her. Look at that picture again. She's so cute. In fact, I think I'll keep both of them.
Thanks to the boy for putting up with me for over five years (!!!)
and still making me laugh on a regular basis. (when he's not making me cry...or want to throttle him...) And thanks again for taking out my trash last night because you know I always forget, and there was no more room in my trash can for another week's worth of refuse. I love how you randomly notice and do things like that.Thanks to you, Casey for FINALLY chilling out this year. I loved the puppy years, but something tells me that the dog years will be that much better.
Thanks to my mother for only being slightly frosty after I explained that I would not be heading to the homestead for Thanksgiving. I need to relax, mom. I haven't said much (because what's the use in complaining really) but what I'm doing is tough. And while I can handle it, it's only by the skin of my teeth. So I'm tired. I need to sleep and catch up on things at home. The thought of four! whole! days! with no school and no work makes me happier than anything else could right now. Thank you for giving me that gift. I am more grateful for you and dad than I could ever express, and I can't wait to see you at Christmastime.
Thanks to the friends that I won't get to see this holiday season. You guys crack me up on a regular basis. I love each and every one of you, and the worst part of being so busy lately is the lack of time I get to spend with you or talking to you.
Specific thanks to Candy for organizing a weight loss challenge that spurred me to lose 10lbs. I truly appreciate you giving me motivation when I had none but needed it badly. FYI, after the dinner we ate today I'm going to need you to go ahead and organize another one. kthxbai.
Thank you, cuz. You rock. We played Rock Band to celebrate turkey day and I totally thought of you guys.
Thanks, z. There really aren't words. (Seriously still can't believe that you know how to cook turkey. It was fantastic btw.)
I'm going to go ahead and give a tentative early thanks to my organic chem professor for passing me this semester. (ohpleasepleaseplease)
Thanks, Minnesota for beating Butler's basketball team today. Best we get any losses over with early in the season. Hopefully this will be our only one. (and then maybe my bracket picks won't be so ridiculous.)
Thank you for every blog comment that you leave. I love the interaction and that I can keep you entertained. Keep 'em coming and I promise to do my best to write regularly.
What are you thankful for? Leave me a comment. Real or facetious, I would love to know.
PS. It was Casey's birthday yesterday. She turned four. I think I'll keep her. Look at that picture again. She's so cute. In fact, I think I'll keep both of them.
Friday, May 29, 2009
I pick the weirdest times to be girly...
Despite random crossovers to the dark side, I'm not usually a girly girl. I mean, sure, I have issues with egregious assaults on footwear, and I may have some issues with bugs (and other creepy-crawlies,) but it's not like I really need to be taken care of. Or go out in makeup every day. Or even fix my hair regularly. (Unless a ponytail counts as "fixing?")
But sometimes, usually completely random times, that girly side of me pops up and can not be denied. Like when bike-riding. Like when bike-riding with someone who won't shut up about how I need a helmet. But I don't want to wear a helmet...even though I know it's probably smart. So I grudgingly look over the helmets at the bike store and find....nothing. They were all blue or black or silver or red and since I was already not wanting to purchase one, I wasn't inclined to like something that didn't make me happy.
And thus began my search for a pink bicycle helmet.
I know, I know. What on earth? To be fair, I don't mean completely pink. I mean, enough so that I like it. Enough so that I think it's cute, even though I'll look like an idiot while wearing it.
(This biking thing? It's taken over my life. I blame Candy.)
And so my google searching led me to this on ebay. I already have a long-standing
hate relationship with ebay, but luckily there were only about 4 hours left on this auction when I found it, and I was the only bidder.
Still, I checked on it about 500 times in four hours.
In the end I am now the proud owner of a helmet with pink on it. I think I won because of the enormous size of my head. No other woman needs a helmet this big. Trust. We're talking freakishly large.
And so now I must wait until it arrives. And then I will post pictures. Of the three muskateers that keep going on crazy bike rides, all three of us in our goofy helmets.
But sometimes, usually completely random times, that girly side of me pops up and can not be denied. Like when bike-riding. Like when bike-riding with someone who won't shut up about how I need a helmet. But I don't want to wear a helmet...even though I know it's probably smart. So I grudgingly look over the helmets at the bike store and find....nothing. They were all blue or black or silver or red and since I was already not wanting to purchase one, I wasn't inclined to like something that didn't make me happy.
And thus began my search for a pink bicycle helmet.
I know, I know. What on earth? To be fair, I don't mean completely pink. I mean, enough so that I like it. Enough so that I think it's cute, even though I'll look like an idiot while wearing it.
(This biking thing? It's taken over my life. I blame Candy.)
And so my google searching led me to this on ebay. I already have a long-standing
hate relationship with ebay, but luckily there were only about 4 hours left on this auction when I found it, and I was the only bidder.Still, I checked on it about 500 times in four hours.
In the end I am now the proud owner of a helmet with pink on it. I think I won because of the enormous size of my head. No other woman needs a helmet this big. Trust. We're talking freakishly large.
And so now I must wait until it arrives. And then I will post pictures. Of the three muskateers that keep going on crazy bike rides, all three of us in our goofy helmets.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Spontaneity
Confession: I didn't know how to spell the title of this blog. I had to look it up.
There's a beverage at one of my favorite bagel places that I love to order. I love iced tea, it's lightly sweetened, and it's got enough caffeine to wake me up in the mornings. Plus, the name is fun to say (Spontanei-tea.)
Unfortunately (or fortunately if you're me, I guess) that's about the extent of the spontaneity in my life. I know this will come as a shock to some of you (unless you're regular readers. Then you know me. But if you're new it's a shock. If you're new, hi there!!) but I'm a bit of a planner. A little Type-A. A smidge of a control freak. I sort of like routine. Change is not my friend. In fact, change in my life usually takes a congressional mandate if not an act of God. And even those aren't always successful.
Which is interesting because in a social situation, I am usually the planner. I love to have a group of friends together and it doesn't really matter WHAT we're doing. I'll get friends together whenever and wherever I can.* But, if left to my own devices, I'm finding that the older I get the more I like my weeks to have some routine. I like to go to work, go home and walk my dog, and then spend an quiet evening reading or knitting or basically trying to see if I really can get my couch to have a permanent indentation that is the exact size of my butt. And once I have an idea of how my evening is going to go, it's not that easy to change on a moment's notice. In short, I'm getting boring. But I secretly sort of like it that way.
The boy? The boy is all about spontaneity. The boy has no idea what he's doing most evenings. The boy probably doesn't know what he's doing in the next hour. And even MORE incredibly to me, he can have plans for this evening, and then change them at the last minute. OMG - I cringe just thinking about the uncertainty.
Despite what you may be thinking, this has never been a bone of contention in our relationship.**
But for two nights this week, I've found myself in completely unplanned situations. And I didn't die. The first was when I got to go bicycle shopping. After repeated badgering by Candy and I, zlionsfan opted not to fix the bike that he had languishing in his garage, but instead chose to purchase a pretty shiny new bike. From a bike shop. So I got to go shopping, I didn't spend any money, and I got to help spend a good amount of money that wasn't mine. What's not to like about that? As soon as that was over, I assumed we would each go our separate ways home.
But apparently there was dinner involved. This dinner was assumed to be part of the plans by two out of the three participants.
Um, okay. This was unplanned, but not completely out of the question. Hmmm....Casey had been walked, I was already with friends, I was hungry - why not eat?
Baby steps, people. Baby steps.
Dinner was fun. (I had fun at an unplanned event.)
So now that a bike had been purchased, we made plans to ride together last night. At one of my favorite places. And ride we did. Another friend, Nicole, came along and we rode our bikes for about two hours (with Casey who ran along with us the entire time.) It was fabulous. The weather was perfect, the riding was both leisurely and heartbreakingly impossible***, and there was plenty of conversation to keep us all occupied the entire time.
When we ended the ride, Casey was worn out. I stopped to say goodbye, and she immediately laid down on the ground. I started thinking about what I was going to have for dinner, and how peaceful the night would be with Casey completely passed out, and how I couldn't wait to get back to the book I was reading. And then Nicole mentioned dinner plans to Candy. And my immediate internal dialogue was, (no joke) "They're going to dinner? I wonder if it's just the two of them. Will they invite me? OH MY GOD WHAT IF THEY INVITE ME? WHAT AM I GOING TO SAY?"
At that point Nicole said, "Does anyone else want to come?"
And my mouth said, "Sure! Where are we going?"
I'm sure it seemed normal to everyone else, but I honestly don't remember making the decision to go. And once it was made, I'm not sure that everyone in my head was entirely happy about it. But we all went out to eat, and surprisingly, I again didn't die. In fact, I had a good time.
When I went home and was cuddled on my couch with a very tired dog, I reflected on my two unplanned outings. Hmmm....unplanned, but still good. Maybe the boy was right? Spontaneous is still okay. Maybe this is the beginning of a change? But wait! Change is bad!! And the boy is never right! What to do, what to do?
In a fit of rebellion I made the immediate unplanned decision to paint my fingernails. See? I can be sponteneous! Look at me go!!****
*As long as I have at least 24 hours notice.
**That was a bold faced lie.
***See, there's this hill...
****Baby steps, people. Baby steps.
There's a beverage at one of my favorite bagel places that I love to order. I love iced tea, it's lightly sweetened, and it's got enough caffeine to wake me up in the mornings. Plus, the name is fun to say (Spontanei-tea.)
Unfortunately (or fortunately if you're me, I guess) that's about the extent of the spontaneity in my life. I know this will come as a shock to some of you (unless you're regular readers. Then you know me. But if you're new it's a shock. If you're new, hi there!!) but I'm a bit of a planner. A little Type-A. A smidge of a control freak. I sort of like routine. Change is not my friend. In fact, change in my life usually takes a congressional mandate if not an act of God. And even those aren't always successful.
Which is interesting because in a social situation, I am usually the planner. I love to have a group of friends together and it doesn't really matter WHAT we're doing. I'll get friends together whenever and wherever I can.* But, if left to my own devices, I'm finding that the older I get the more I like my weeks to have some routine. I like to go to work, go home and walk my dog, and then spend an quiet evening reading or knitting or basically trying to see if I really can get my couch to have a permanent indentation that is the exact size of my butt. And once I have an idea of how my evening is going to go, it's not that easy to change on a moment's notice. In short, I'm getting boring. But I secretly sort of like it that way.
The boy? The boy is all about spontaneity. The boy has no idea what he's doing most evenings. The boy probably doesn't know what he's doing in the next hour. And even MORE incredibly to me, he can have plans for this evening, and then change them at the last minute. OMG - I cringe just thinking about the uncertainty.
Despite what you may be thinking, this has never been a bone of contention in our relationship.**
But for two nights this week, I've found myself in completely unplanned situations. And I didn't die. The first was when I got to go bicycle shopping. After repeated badgering by Candy and I, zlionsfan opted not to fix the bike that he had languishing in his garage, but instead chose to purchase a pretty shiny new bike. From a bike shop. So I got to go shopping, I didn't spend any money, and I got to help spend a good amount of money that wasn't mine. What's not to like about that? As soon as that was over, I assumed we would each go our separate ways home.
But apparently there was dinner involved. This dinner was assumed to be part of the plans by two out of the three participants.
Um, okay. This was unplanned, but not completely out of the question. Hmmm....Casey had been walked, I was already with friends, I was hungry - why not eat?
Baby steps, people. Baby steps.
Dinner was fun. (I had fun at an unplanned event.)
So now that a bike had been purchased, we made plans to ride together last night. At one of my favorite places. And ride we did. Another friend, Nicole, came along and we rode our bikes for about two hours (with Casey who ran along with us the entire time.) It was fabulous. The weather was perfect, the riding was both leisurely and heartbreakingly impossible***, and there was plenty of conversation to keep us all occupied the entire time.
When we ended the ride, Casey was worn out. I stopped to say goodbye, and she immediately laid down on the ground. I started thinking about what I was going to have for dinner, and how peaceful the night would be with Casey completely passed out, and how I couldn't wait to get back to the book I was reading. And then Nicole mentioned dinner plans to Candy. And my immediate internal dialogue was, (no joke) "They're going to dinner? I wonder if it's just the two of them. Will they invite me? OH MY GOD WHAT IF THEY INVITE ME? WHAT AM I GOING TO SAY?"
At that point Nicole said, "Does anyone else want to come?"
And my mouth said, "Sure! Where are we going?"
I'm sure it seemed normal to everyone else, but I honestly don't remember making the decision to go. And once it was made, I'm not sure that everyone in my head was entirely happy about it. But we all went out to eat, and surprisingly, I again didn't die. In fact, I had a good time.
When I went home and was cuddled on my couch with a very tired dog, I reflected on my two unplanned outings. Hmmm....unplanned, but still good. Maybe the boy was right? Spontaneous is still okay. Maybe this is the beginning of a change? But wait! Change is bad!! And the boy is never right! What to do, what to do?
In a fit of rebellion I made the immediate unplanned decision to paint my fingernails. See? I can be sponteneous! Look at me go!!****
*As long as I have at least 24 hours notice.
**That was a bold faced lie.
***See, there's this hill...
****Baby steps, people. Baby steps.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Wiped. Out.
Plenty going on in the life of Emily right now. Most of it heavy and emotional, so I'll stick to the lighter fun topics. They're easier to write about.
I went home last weekend for Easter to see that Blue is settling into his new home nicely. I think part of him still misses me, since he LEPT off the couch when he saw me and pretty much didn't leave my side. But he's also got his routine at my parent's house where he watches movies with them and puts his head on my mom's lap. It's the cutest thing. They love him. He loves them. And after seeing the stark contrast between Blue and Casey, my parents have once again determined that Casey is not allowed in their house.*
On the homefront, I can't TELL you how different it is. Both the boy and I have commented that we miss Blue - a LOT. But on the other hand, Casey is suddenly an absolute angel. With no one to compete with, she's back to "remembering" how to behave. Even when zlionsfan came over, Casey didn't jump on him once. (And if you ask him, before the subtraction of Blue the dogs would practically pull him down like a pack of wolves when he entered the door.) It was like an Easter miracle. Other benefits to the one-dog household include being able to put your shoes on the floor without fear that they will be eaten, and not having to worry about gigantic drool spots appearing on your jeans. And have I mentioned that Casey is an angel now? Because she is. Seriously. It's completely unexpected and appreciated.** This whole thing has opened up an entirely new range of emotions for me. One the one hand - so happy that my parents love Blue and that he's got such a good home. On the other hand - I miss my buddy. One the one hand - so proud that I placed this dog in the perfect home and that Casey is so much better as an "only dog." On the other hand - I miss my buddy. It's definitely been a learning experience.
A bright spot in my life is the addition of "new" electronics. Now, since I'm a poor student, I have accepted that new electronics are just a part of my life that I have to do without until I graduate and become a DVM.***
But then I realized that I have this friend who likes to upgrade HIS electronics, and is willing to sell his old electronics at a below-market-Emily-feels-like-she's-ripping-him-off price. (I have other friends who also know the joy of "inheriting" old electronics. Best. Thing. Ever.) I guess I should just be glad that he let me buy this one instead of gifting old electronics as has happened in the past. So, internet, please meet my "new-to-me" laptop. This isn't the best picture, since it doesn't show the pretty pretty blue color that is the top of my laptop, but it'll do. It's pretty pretty pretty and probably hasn't left my sight since I got it. It also has a wireless card (did I say that right?) so I can surf online at school. And, apparently, at home since it picked up a wireless network in my living room that is not password protected. It asked me if I wanted to connect. Um, yes please. I wonder if I should feel guilty about this?
I would also like to note that this laptop has confirmed to me one of the fundamental differences between men and women. My first impression of the laptop was the pretty blue color. The first comment from my brother and my boss was, "The screen is HUGE! How big is that anyway?"
In other news, there was yet another physics test last night that I feel reasonably confident about.***** That was the day after my second chemistry formal report was due, so I'm ready for my glass of wine tonight. I would normally want to pair that wine with some meat and cheese, but I guess that since it's spring, and since I told certain guilt inducing people that I would join in, I should start watching what I eat. (she says grudgingly.) Sigh. It's time for the yearly weight loss struggle to begin. Maybe this year I'll keep it off. (And maybe I'll be elected president of my own country too.)
Finally, I directed my parents to watch the fabulous video that I posted last week. (Have you watched it yet? You should watch it. Seriously. Go. Now. I'll wait....) When in church for Easter (I know, right?) I saw a little girl wearing a fabulous yellow shirt paired with a beautiful sparkly turquoise scarf. I loved the outfit, and when I got a chance, I leaned forward and told her so. My mother watched this exhange, then leaned over to me, pantomimed stamping her hand and said, "Validated." That one comment made my day.
*What they really mean is that I have to be present at all times that Casey is in their house. No more leaving her under their supervision because things have a way of, um, getting broken.
**My father said it's because she thinks I took Blue off and killed him or something. So she behaves because she's afraid the same fate will happen to her if she's not careful. You know what? If that's what it is, I'm still grateful. She's being SO good.
***Note the confidence. It's a new thing I'm trying.****
****It's taking all of my willpower not to delete that sentence and put in something that's a bit more, um, open to other possibilities.
*****The lack of crowing about my previous test indicates that perhaps I did not perform as well as I would have liked. I'm hoping to rectify that with this exam.
I went home last weekend for Easter to see that Blue is settling into his new home nicely. I think part of him still misses me, since he LEPT off the couch when he saw me and pretty much didn't leave my side. But he's also got his routine at my parent's house where he watches movies with them and puts his head on my mom's lap. It's the cutest thing. They love him. He loves them. And after seeing the stark contrast between Blue and Casey, my parents have once again determined that Casey is not allowed in their house.*
On the homefront, I can't TELL you how different it is. Both the boy and I have commented that we miss Blue - a LOT. But on the other hand, Casey is suddenly an absolute angel. With no one to compete with, she's back to "remembering" how to behave. Even when zlionsfan came over, Casey didn't jump on him once. (And if you ask him, before the subtraction of Blue the dogs would practically pull him down like a pack of wolves when he entered the door.) It was like an Easter miracle. Other benefits to the one-dog household include being able to put your shoes on the floor without fear that they will be eaten, and not having to worry about gigantic drool spots appearing on your jeans. And have I mentioned that Casey is an angel now? Because she is. Seriously. It's completely unexpected and appreciated.** This whole thing has opened up an entirely new range of emotions for me. One the one hand - so happy that my parents love Blue and that he's got such a good home. On the other hand - I miss my buddy. One the one hand - so proud that I placed this dog in the perfect home and that Casey is so much better as an "only dog." On the other hand - I miss my buddy. It's definitely been a learning experience.
A bright spot in my life is the addition of "new" electronics. Now, since I'm a poor student, I have accepted that new electronics are just a part of my life that I have to do without until I graduate and become a DVM.***
But then I realized that I have this friend who likes to upgrade HIS electronics, and is willing to sell his old electronics at a below-market-Emily-feels-like-she's-ripping-him-off price. (I have other friends who also know the joy of "inheriting" old electronics. Best. Thing. Ever.) I guess I should just be glad that he let me buy this one instead of gifting old electronics as has happened in the past. So, internet, please meet my "new-to-me" laptop. This isn't the best picture, since it doesn't show the pretty pretty blue color that is the top of my laptop, but it'll do. It's pretty pretty pretty and probably hasn't left my sight since I got it. It also has a wireless card (did I say that right?) so I can surf online at school. And, apparently, at home since it picked up a wireless network in my living room that is not password protected. It asked me if I wanted to connect. Um, yes please. I wonder if I should feel guilty about this?I would also like to note that this laptop has confirmed to me one of the fundamental differences between men and women. My first impression of the laptop was the pretty blue color. The first comment from my brother and my boss was, "The screen is HUGE! How big is that anyway?"
In other news, there was yet another physics test last night that I feel reasonably confident about.***** That was the day after my second chemistry formal report was due, so I'm ready for my glass of wine tonight. I would normally want to pair that wine with some meat and cheese, but I guess that since it's spring, and since I told certain guilt inducing people that I would join in, I should start watching what I eat. (she says grudgingly.) Sigh. It's time for the yearly weight loss struggle to begin. Maybe this year I'll keep it off. (And maybe I'll be elected president of my own country too.)
Finally, I directed my parents to watch the fabulous video that I posted last week. (Have you watched it yet? You should watch it. Seriously. Go. Now. I'll wait....) When in church for Easter (I know, right?) I saw a little girl wearing a fabulous yellow shirt paired with a beautiful sparkly turquoise scarf. I loved the outfit, and when I got a chance, I leaned forward and told her so. My mother watched this exhange, then leaned over to me, pantomimed stamping her hand and said, "Validated." That one comment made my day.
*What they really mean is that I have to be present at all times that Casey is in their house. No more leaving her under their supervision because things have a way of, um, getting broken.
**My father said it's because she thinks I took Blue off and killed him or something. So she behaves because she's afraid the same fate will happen to her if she's not careful. You know what? If that's what it is, I'm still grateful. She's being SO good.
***Note the confidence. It's a new thing I'm trying.****
****It's taking all of my willpower not to delete that sentence and put in something that's a bit more, um, open to other possibilities.
*****The lack of crowing about my previous test indicates that perhaps I did not perform as well as I would have liked. I'm hoping to rectify that with this exam.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Can't Even Blog Right Now...
...so go read this.
I'm okay. Shaken up and sore today but okay. Curvy did not fare so well, though she absorbed the impact awesomely and I'm going to take this opportunity to suggest you get a Honda for your next vehicle. I honestly exited my car (with curtain side airbags deployed) expecting to see twisted metal, shattered glass, and steam rising from my car.
There was twisted metal, and there was broken glass, but all from the other driver's car. Curvy looks perfect from the outside, with the exception of her rear driver's side tire, which is bent in at an awkward angle.
Everything is fine, no one was hurt, I didn't have my dogs with me, and with the exception of my car (and her car, of course) it's the best possible outcome from this scenario. Still, I'm shaken up, I'm scared, and I'm in the unusual position of not being entirely self sufficient at the moment which is stressing me out the most. Think good thoughts for Curvy and I'll post later with pictures and more info.
I'm okay. Shaken up and sore today but okay. Curvy did not fare so well, though she absorbed the impact awesomely and I'm going to take this opportunity to suggest you get a Honda for your next vehicle. I honestly exited my car (with curtain side airbags deployed) expecting to see twisted metal, shattered glass, and steam rising from my car.
There was twisted metal, and there was broken glass, but all from the other driver's car. Curvy looks perfect from the outside, with the exception of her rear driver's side tire, which is bent in at an awkward angle.
Everything is fine, no one was hurt, I didn't have my dogs with me, and with the exception of my car (and her car, of course) it's the best possible outcome from this scenario. Still, I'm shaken up, I'm scared, and I'm in the unusual position of not being entirely self sufficient at the moment which is stressing me out the most. Think good thoughts for Curvy and I'll post later with pictures and more info.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Who knew all that anger would come in handy?
I'm no gamer, but I've been known to play video games on occasion. MarioKart is an all time favorite, and was actually one of my favorite pasttimes when getting over heartbreak. And I've made no secret of my love for all things Frogger and PacMan. (And I may have secret [outdated] mad skillz with Nina in Tekken.) But I was never into the "shoot 'em up" games. I've watched GTA (and heard about the fun storylines,) but never played. The competitor in me sort of yearns to be really good at the video games that zlionsfan, ropes me into to unlock things or reach certain achievements, but I just don't have the time.
Along these lines, when Guitar Hero came out, I didn't understand the excitement from zlionsfan. It was a fun game, and I could see how it would become mildly addictive, but to spend hours upon hours on that game? Then came Rock Band. Okay. It's Guitar Hero with more instruments and singing. I get it. I can play the guitar okay. I can play the bass okay. The drums look like they're way too complicated (and after seeing my cousin play - who was AWESOME - I'm super intimidated.) And singing? You mean, singing in front of people? No thanks. Besides, Rock Band was mostly 70s rock with which I am not well acquainted. (Sorry sorry sorry. In my defense - I know some of the songs!! Just not all of them.) I mean, Rock Band is fun and all, sure. Especially in a group of people. But to spend lots of time on it? Meh.
Enter Rock Band 2. All of a sudden, I know the songs I'm playing. All of a sudden, Rock Band is much more fun. All of a sudden, I'm dropping off a book for zlionsfan and staying until 10:30pm playing "one more song." Damn. But still, given the control freak in me (and with that, the dislike of making a complete fool of myself) I stick to the guitar. No drums, and no singing.
Last night we were playing "one more song" and it happened to be Alanis Morrissette. Specifically 'You Oughta Know.' Emily on guitar and zlionsfan on vocals. We play. We don't do so well. We try again, we don't do so well. In an unprecedented move I say,
"Let me sing."
I know, right? Zlionsfan tried his best to talk me out of it. He expressed doubt in that gentle way he has, and reminded me that it was on expert. I'm sure he was trying to help me avoid an epic fail. I stuck to my guns.
"C'mon. Let me sing."
What he probably didn't realize is that any woman scorned has at one point or another cranked up Alanis and sang along. That song is probably the anthem for a woman scorned. I'm not saying I've ever been a woman scorned before (cough cough) but, you know, I may have sang that tune a time or two (or fifty or sixty.) I know that song. I know the venomous nuances. I wouldn't put myself out there singing (even in front of a close friend) if I didn't think I could do it. So despite his doubt, I took the mic.
Dude, I totally nailed that shit. On expert. Go me. Happy dance for one. First song ever sang in Rock Band - woo hoo! There was no containing my happiness.
It wasn't the first time through that I was awesome. I mean, there was a learning curve of how the game works and what exactly I had to do. I did fail the first time. But in the end, I got through it, and I even got an A. :-) And then we played some other songs, and then I made him let me sing again.
(I would like to note that this does not mean I can sing well. I mean, I could hear myself. It wasn't pretty. In fact, I got an attack of the giggles, that almost made me fail, when I heard how horrible I sounded the second time around. But you don't have to sing well, apparently. You have to be on pitch, and you have to be a good mimic.)
Poor zlionsfan. He probably doesn't even know the monster he created. This might cause me to stop bugging him about MarioKart Wii. Like I need one more thing to take up my time. Man.
But, you know, we need two more people to be a band. I'm sure that if you're nice enough, zlionsfan might let you into 'Seven Years of Bad Luck.' Especially if it helps him unlock something or other. Any takers?*
*What's interesting is that my friends are divided into two camps. Those who will completely understand my excitement, and those (ahem, Kate, ahem) who will mock me endlessly for this. That's fine. I'm ready. Bring it. If I can mimic Alanis's anger, you should be very very afraid.
Along these lines, when Guitar Hero came out, I didn't understand the excitement from zlionsfan. It was a fun game, and I could see how it would become mildly addictive, but to spend hours upon hours on that game? Then came Rock Band. Okay. It's Guitar Hero with more instruments and singing. I get it. I can play the guitar okay. I can play the bass okay. The drums look like they're way too complicated (and after seeing my cousin play - who was AWESOME - I'm super intimidated.) And singing? You mean, singing in front of people? No thanks. Besides, Rock Band was mostly 70s rock with which I am not well acquainted. (Sorry sorry sorry. In my defense - I know some of the songs!! Just not all of them.) I mean, Rock Band is fun and all, sure. Especially in a group of people. But to spend lots of time on it? Meh.
Enter Rock Band 2. All of a sudden, I know the songs I'm playing. All of a sudden, Rock Band is much more fun. All of a sudden, I'm dropping off a book for zlionsfan and staying until 10:30pm playing "one more song." Damn. But still, given the control freak in me (and with that, the dislike of making a complete fool of myself) I stick to the guitar. No drums, and no singing.
Last night we were playing "one more song" and it happened to be Alanis Morrissette. Specifically 'You Oughta Know.' Emily on guitar and zlionsfan on vocals. We play. We don't do so well. We try again, we don't do so well. In an unprecedented move I say,
"Let me sing."
I know, right? Zlionsfan tried his best to talk me out of it. He expressed doubt in that gentle way he has, and reminded me that it was on expert. I'm sure he was trying to help me avoid an epic fail. I stuck to my guns.
"C'mon. Let me sing."
What he probably didn't realize is that any woman scorned has at one point or another cranked up Alanis and sang along. That song is probably the anthem for a woman scorned. I'm not saying I've ever been a woman scorned before (cough cough) but, you know, I may have sang that tune a time or two (or fifty or sixty.) I know that song. I know the venomous nuances. I wouldn't put myself out there singing (even in front of a close friend) if I didn't think I could do it. So despite his doubt, I took the mic.
Dude, I totally nailed that shit. On expert. Go me. Happy dance for one. First song ever sang in Rock Band - woo hoo! There was no containing my happiness.
It wasn't the first time through that I was awesome. I mean, there was a learning curve of how the game works and what exactly I had to do. I did fail the first time. But in the end, I got through it, and I even got an A. :-) And then we played some other songs, and then I made him let me sing again.
(I would like to note that this does not mean I can sing well. I mean, I could hear myself. It wasn't pretty. In fact, I got an attack of the giggles, that almost made me fail, when I heard how horrible I sounded the second time around. But you don't have to sing well, apparently. You have to be on pitch, and you have to be a good mimic.)
Poor zlionsfan. He probably doesn't even know the monster he created. This might cause me to stop bugging him about MarioKart Wii. Like I need one more thing to take up my time. Man.
But, you know, we need two more people to be a band. I'm sure that if you're nice enough, zlionsfan might let you into 'Seven Years of Bad Luck.' Especially if it helps him unlock something or other. Any takers?*
*What's interesting is that my friends are divided into two camps. Those who will completely understand my excitement, and those (ahem, Kate, ahem) who will mock me endlessly for this. That's fine. I'm ready. Bring it. If I can mimic Alanis's anger, you should be very very afraid.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Magic Soda
I've been stressed out recently. I won't lie. It crept up slowly, and I didn't even really notice it until I was ordering a Big Mac in the McDonalds drive thru (I hate McDonalds) and I realized that it was my third meal at McDonalds in one day. I don't even know how I got there. I just remember that one day I meant to say "Diet Coke" and "Big Mac Meal with large fries" came out. That's about the ninth level of stress. The tenth level involves Taco Bell, is not at ALL pretty, and has only been reached once in recent history (finals week last semester.)
Turns out I AM an emotional eater. Wow. Who knew? (Shut it zlionsfan.)
Anyway, stressed. After a pretty good summer, I actually found myself avoiding the stress. I knew I had to get back to reality....but the summer was filled with other sorts of easy-to-manage stress. Not the can-completely-alter-your-future-in-a-bad-way stress. So not only was I eating, I was also burrowing my head in the sand, ostrich style. This past weekend it came to a head, and I finally got everything sorted out if not to my liking, at least as close as it can BE to my liking. Still, with everything coming to a head, my stress went from benign over-eating to periodic freak-outs and the need to incessantly discuss my options over and over and over ad nauseum. Ugh.
The boy has been patient. He waited until last night, and suggested that I try this new beverage that he found.
He said that he noticed that I've been a bit stressed (understatement) and since it's called "calm" he thought it might help. It looked suspect, but I tried it. It wasn't fabulous. The conversation that the boy and I had about it went like this:
Boy: "So, how is it?"
Me: "Oh, it's okay. It's nothing fabulzzzzzzzzzz"
Seriously. That stuff put me OUT. "Calm" my rear end. "Comatose" would be more like it. That stuff must have NyQuil in it or something. It was ridiculous. I was out within 10 minutes from drinking it. Prior to drinking the soda, I was chatting about the recent fantasy football draft, loving on my dogs, and silently freaking out about how classes have started. After drinking the soda I remember nothing until I semi-woke up and stumbled to bed from the couch.
I still don't know if the boy knew what would happen when he offered me the seemingly-innocent drink... but I'm going to assume he had his suspicions*. I also don't know that the drink solved anything long term, because I'm still stressed... but at least now I'm stressed and well rested.
*my boss already asked. No, I don't know where the boy got the magic soda, but I think it should only be used for good and not evil.
Turns out I AM an emotional eater. Wow. Who knew? (Shut it zlionsfan.)
Anyway, stressed. After a pretty good summer, I actually found myself avoiding the stress. I knew I had to get back to reality....but the summer was filled with other sorts of easy-to-manage stress. Not the can-completely-alter-your-future-in-a-bad-way stress. So not only was I eating, I was also burrowing my head in the sand, ostrich style. This past weekend it came to a head, and I finally got everything sorted out if not to my liking, at least as close as it can BE to my liking. Still, with everything coming to a head, my stress went from benign over-eating to periodic freak-outs and the need to incessantly discuss my options over and over and over ad nauseum. Ugh.
The boy has been patient. He waited until last night, and suggested that I try this new beverage that he found.
He said that he noticed that I've been a bit stressed (understatement) and since it's called "calm" he thought it might help. It looked suspect, but I tried it. It wasn't fabulous. The conversation that the boy and I had about it went like this:Boy: "So, how is it?"
Me: "Oh, it's okay. It's nothing fabulzzzzzzzzzz"
Seriously. That stuff put me OUT. "Calm" my rear end. "Comatose" would be more like it. That stuff must have NyQuil in it or something. It was ridiculous. I was out within 10 minutes from drinking it. Prior to drinking the soda, I was chatting about the recent fantasy football draft, loving on my dogs, and silently freaking out about how classes have started. After drinking the soda I remember nothing until I semi-woke up and stumbled to bed from the couch.
I still don't know if the boy knew what would happen when he offered me the seemingly-innocent drink... but I'm going to assume he had his suspicions*. I also don't know that the drink solved anything long term, because I'm still stressed... but at least now I'm stressed and well rested.
*my boss already asked. No, I don't know where the boy got the magic soda, but I think it should only be used for good and not evil.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Would You Like Some Cheese With That Whine?
I am without muse lately. I am muse-less. Additionally, I am cranky, out of sorts, and tired as heck. But it's been over a week, and I'm feeling more and more pressure to get a blog up (thanks J!) So I think that for this post I'll steal an idea from one of my favorite blog friends, Ann, and post my first Thursday 13.
(Note: this will not be a weekly feature. I don't usually like weekly features because I sort of want this blog to be me posting what I want to, when I want to...but I obviously can't avoid feeling SOME pressure from posting "what I want to, when I want to" because I like to think that people who read this are looking forward to the next post...so, like most things in my life, I will take an idea and use it when it fits with what I want to do :-)
Reasons why my mother should weep for my impending spinster-hood (aka, why I so love living alone*)
1) I do so much less laundry now that I live alone - it's seriously ridiculous. Are boys just dirtier? Do they just wear the same 7 outfits over and over and over each week so that you HAVE to wash them every weekend? I have no idea. But seriously, laundry maybe once every week and a half is a nice perk of living alone. I've thought about seeing how long I can go without doing laundry, but sometimes a girl just needs her favorite jeans.
2) I live with two dogs and one cat in a new place that is less than half the size of my old place, and I STILL do less cleaning than when I lived with the boy and his dog. (Are my DOGS neater than the boy? I must do more research on this before I pass judgement.)
3) I do dishes immediately after using them, and it takes roughly 5 minutes. Sometimes, I even use paper plates so no doing dishes is necessary. (GASP!)
4) I haven't yet set up cable (because I'm still undecided on whether or not I want it in the new place) or internet, and there's no one who's bugging me to get it done. (Well, there's zlionsfan, but really, I don't count him.) Due to this, I do not respond to emails sent between the hours of 5:00pm and 8:00am...but really, why are you sending me emails then anyway?? Just call me or get outside and play instead of sitting in front of the computer....ahem.
5) I'm learning about trimming bushes and trees, and edging and mowing the lawn (well, mowing eventually...) and it's really not that bad. I'm sure it will get worse when I realize that I have to do it on a regular basis, but for now, it's all about learning and accomplishment. (And after one episode of having to say, "No really, I'll do it later. Seriously. No, I WANT to do it. Stop!" I think guys believe that this is their domain, and would I get to do any of this if I lived with one?)
6) I get dates now.
Men who live with women take note. We may not complain, and heck, we may not even notice....but we DO miss dates. An occasional date night wouldn't kill you. (And this includes the asking, the PLANNING, the picking her up (even if you live together) and the paying (even though it's "our" money.))
7) A bottle of wine lasts longer than 24 hours.
(Okay, okay. A box of wine. Bottled wine doesn't keep so well and I can't finish a bottle in one night without severe consequences...besides, the boxed stuff isn't bad. [says the spinster-for-life]) Same goes for a 6 pack of beer. I can go home and decide whether or not I would like to have some beer that night. Some nights I might even say no. (the horror!!) I never understood what it was about boys that made them think that if there was beer, they had to drink it immediately lest it disappear and no beer is ever found on earth again.
8) Shave my legs? What's that?
(Okay...it's summer, so I have to keep that within reason. But just wait for the winter. I'm out to set a world record!)
9) I can take two-hour-long walks with my dogs, leave my phone at home, and be completely unreachable for those two hours. And it's okay!
10) I love confusing the heck out of my neighbors (all men, all who say "hello" every time they see me) with the revolving door of men who are at my apartment for hours at a time... Zlionsfan, the boy, Jmac, my little brother, the maintenance guy... I like to mix it up so no one guy is there more often than any other. I want to see how long it is before someone asks me what the heck kind of operation I'm running...
(Wow. I just realized that I haven't had one female visitor yet. I need more girlfriends. Come on over girls! I have wine! Lots and lots of wine!!! Girly-girls need not apply.)
(Wait, did I just type that? I AM moody. Perhaps now is not such a good time for any sort of visitor...)
11) This goes back to the "box of wine" thing, but I've had a box of popsicles in my freezer for over a week now, and it's only half gone. I can't stress how much more boys eat than girls. I mean, I eat. (I eat.) But apparently I must eat less. As evidenced by the popsicles. That are always there when I want them. And when I finish them? There's a note to buy more. And then more are purchased. It's a fascinating system really. Boys should get in on this.
12) My toilet seat is always down. Even for sleepy morning visits.
13) Everyone has a place to sit. I have a couch and a loveseat. I can stretch out on the couch and the loveseat looks like this:
*Now, this is not to say that there aren't several reasons why I miss the boy. There were good things about living with him, and definitely things that I miss...so I wouldn't completely rule out the possibility of future cohabitation. But for now? So. Happy.
(Note: this will not be a weekly feature. I don't usually like weekly features because I sort of want this blog to be me posting what I want to, when I want to...but I obviously can't avoid feeling SOME pressure from posting "what I want to, when I want to" because I like to think that people who read this are looking forward to the next post...so, like most things in my life, I will take an idea and use it when it fits with what I want to do :-)
Reasons why my mother should weep for my impending spinster-hood (aka, why I so love living alone*)
1) I do so much less laundry now that I live alone - it's seriously ridiculous. Are boys just dirtier? Do they just wear the same 7 outfits over and over and over each week so that you HAVE to wash them every weekend? I have no idea. But seriously, laundry maybe once every week and a half is a nice perk of living alone. I've thought about seeing how long I can go without doing laundry, but sometimes a girl just needs her favorite jeans.
2) I live with two dogs and one cat in a new place that is less than half the size of my old place, and I STILL do less cleaning than when I lived with the boy and his dog. (Are my DOGS neater than the boy? I must do more research on this before I pass judgement.)
3) I do dishes immediately after using them, and it takes roughly 5 minutes. Sometimes, I even use paper plates so no doing dishes is necessary. (GASP!)
4) I haven't yet set up cable (because I'm still undecided on whether or not I want it in the new place) or internet, and there's no one who's bugging me to get it done. (Well, there's zlionsfan, but really, I don't count him.) Due to this, I do not respond to emails sent between the hours of 5:00pm and 8:00am...but really, why are you sending me emails then anyway?? Just call me or get outside and play instead of sitting in front of the computer....ahem.
5) I'm learning about trimming bushes and trees, and edging and mowing the lawn (well, mowing eventually...) and it's really not that bad. I'm sure it will get worse when I realize that I have to do it on a regular basis, but for now, it's all about learning and accomplishment. (And after one episode of having to say, "No really, I'll do it later. Seriously. No, I WANT to do it. Stop!" I think guys believe that this is their domain, and would I get to do any of this if I lived with one?)
6) I get dates now.
Men who live with women take note. We may not complain, and heck, we may not even notice....but we DO miss dates. An occasional date night wouldn't kill you. (And this includes the asking, the PLANNING, the picking her up (even if you live together) and the paying (even though it's "our" money.))
7) A bottle of wine lasts longer than 24 hours.
(Okay, okay. A box of wine. Bottled wine doesn't keep so well and I can't finish a bottle in one night without severe consequences...besides, the boxed stuff isn't bad. [says the spinster-for-life]) Same goes for a 6 pack of beer. I can go home and decide whether or not I would like to have some beer that night. Some nights I might even say no. (the horror!!) I never understood what it was about boys that made them think that if there was beer, they had to drink it immediately lest it disappear and no beer is ever found on earth again.
8) Shave my legs? What's that?
(Okay...it's summer, so I have to keep that within reason. But just wait for the winter. I'm out to set a world record!)
9) I can take two-hour-long walks with my dogs, leave my phone at home, and be completely unreachable for those two hours. And it's okay!
10) I love confusing the heck out of my neighbors (all men, all who say "hello" every time they see me) with the revolving door of men who are at my apartment for hours at a time... Zlionsfan, the boy, Jmac, my little brother, the maintenance guy... I like to mix it up so no one guy is there more often than any other. I want to see how long it is before someone asks me what the heck kind of operation I'm running...
(Wow. I just realized that I haven't had one female visitor yet. I need more girlfriends. Come on over girls! I have wine! Lots and lots of wine!!! Girly-girls need not apply.)
(Wait, did I just type that? I AM moody. Perhaps now is not such a good time for any sort of visitor...)
11) This goes back to the "box of wine" thing, but I've had a box of popsicles in my freezer for over a week now, and it's only half gone. I can't stress how much more boys eat than girls. I mean, I eat. (I eat.) But apparently I must eat less. As evidenced by the popsicles. That are always there when I want them. And when I finish them? There's a note to buy more. And then more are purchased. It's a fascinating system really. Boys should get in on this.
12) My toilet seat is always down. Even for sleepy morning visits.
13) Everyone has a place to sit. I have a couch and a loveseat. I can stretch out on the couch and the loveseat looks like this:
*Now, this is not to say that there aren't several reasons why I miss the boy. There were good things about living with him, and definitely things that I miss...so I wouldn't completely rule out the possibility of future cohabitation. But for now? So. Happy.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Thus began 2007
I just exchanged Christmas gifts with my friend zlionsfan.
First, let me explain zlionsfan. He is my super-genius friend - seriously, if you have a question that you need answered, you call him and he can tell you. He's my savior when things were horrible, and responsible for my interest (obsession) with football. He's a techno-geek, and also very fond of video games (though not online games. He says that if he ventured there, he might never leave the house, and he does have to work to support his habit .) Back in the day, when I didn't feel up to being social, we would play video games for 14 hours at a time - usually MarioKart. I wish I were kidding. Those days have passed, but I still like to play certain games on occasion.
But I'm not a serious video game fan. I like silly fun games like Mario, PacMan, and Frogger. Back when the PS2 came out, I bought zlionsfan's PS1 and have been perfectly content playing Frogger, Tekken, and PacMan for 5 years or so. I get to see the new video game systems courtesy of him, but I'm not interested enough (and I'm cheap enough) that I never buy them.
Zlionsfan, for his part, plays all sorts of new games...but he's always willing to play Mario Party, or Frogger, or Mario Kart, should we make a video game play date. I think he's just excited to share his obsession, on any level, even if only for a little while. Me? I just like the competition. When we exchanged gifts this week, I got to see the new Wii that he bought. Very cool. We played Wii bowling, and I got to see the avatar that he had made for me. My avatar was incredibly short. Whatever.
So for Christmas, zlionsfan gave me his old Nintendo Game Cube. My birthday present was MarioKart. Sure, I'm way way way behind the times, but I was delighted.
I called the boyfriend and said, "It's on."
I swear, if someone had tape recorded the sounds in our apartment last night, it would have been rated R for language. In between yelling at the dogs to GET OUT OF THE WAY! There were comments like,
"You SLUT! I can not believe you just did that!"
"Really? Watch me do it again....aaaaaaand again."
"Nooooooooo!!! I can not BELIEVE you just won."
"Awww. Did I just beat you on your favorite track? Don't you have tons of experience with this game?"
"Shut up! Replay!"
"Did you see that blur? That was me passing your slow ass kart....goddamn you! I hate those stupid bombs."
"Muahahahaha. When I just passed you, it was like you were standing still. Like you had gone through an explosion or something."
"I hate you. I'm moving out tomorrow."
I foresee a decline in housework. We already laid down the "No MarioKart unless both of us are home" rule. The boyfriend protested, but he's already a better driver than I am, so I have no pity. (my only advantage is that I know the tracks better than he does....and that advantage will only last so long...)
Still, just to make sure, I have the game with me today. No cheating allowed . It's not that I don't trust him, exactly....it's just that after the beating he got last night (23 wins to 13) I think the temptation might be a bit much....
First, let me explain zlionsfan. He is my super-genius friend - seriously, if you have a question that you need answered, you call him and he can tell you. He's my savior when things were horrible, and responsible for my interest (obsession) with football. He's a techno-geek, and also very fond of video games (though not online games. He says that if he ventured there, he might never leave the house, and he does have to work to support his habit .) Back in the day, when I didn't feel up to being social, we would play video games for 14 hours at a time - usually MarioKart. I wish I were kidding. Those days have passed, but I still like to play certain games on occasion.
But I'm not a serious video game fan. I like silly fun games like Mario, PacMan, and Frogger. Back when the PS2 came out, I bought zlionsfan's PS1 and have been perfectly content playing Frogger, Tekken, and PacMan for 5 years or so. I get to see the new video game systems courtesy of him, but I'm not interested enough (and I'm cheap enough) that I never buy them.
Zlionsfan, for his part, plays all sorts of new games...but he's always willing to play Mario Party, or Frogger, or Mario Kart, should we make a video game play date. I think he's just excited to share his obsession, on any level, even if only for a little while. Me? I just like the competition. When we exchanged gifts this week, I got to see the new Wii that he bought. Very cool. We played Wii bowling, and I got to see the avatar that he had made for me. My avatar was incredibly short. Whatever.
So for Christmas, zlionsfan gave me his old Nintendo Game Cube. My birthday present was MarioKart. Sure, I'm way way way behind the times, but I was delighted.
I called the boyfriend and said, "It's on."
I swear, if someone had tape recorded the sounds in our apartment last night, it would have been rated R for language. In between yelling at the dogs to GET OUT OF THE WAY! There were comments like,
"You SLUT! I can not believe you just did that!"
"Really? Watch me do it again....aaaaaaand again."
"Nooooooooo!!! I can not BELIEVE you just won."
"Awww. Did I just beat you on your favorite track? Don't you have tons of experience with this game?"
"Shut up! Replay!"
"Did you see that blur? That was me passing your slow ass kart....goddamn you! I hate those stupid bombs."
"Muahahahaha. When I just passed you, it was like you were standing still. Like you had gone through an explosion or something."
"I hate you. I'm moving out tomorrow."
I foresee a decline in housework. We already laid down the "No MarioKart unless both of us are home" rule. The boyfriend protested, but he's already a better driver than I am, so I have no pity. (my only advantage is that I know the tracks better than he does....and that advantage will only last so long...)
Still, just to make sure, I have the game with me today. No cheating allowed . It's not that I don't trust him, exactly....it's just that after the beating he got last night (23 wins to 13) I think the temptation might be a bit much....
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