"Why are you in such a good mood?"
"Because it's Thursday night! I just took my second test of the week! I don't have homework due on Friday night, and I don't have to study for 16 hours this weekend!! So! Happy!!!!"
"How are you going to celebrate?"
"Well, Candy mentioned that she would like to have drunk Emily put in an appearance when we all go out on Friday night. She's never met drunk Emily, though she's heard the stories."
"..."
"I don't know, though. I've got a pretty full weekend of stuff to take care of. It would be irresponsible to drink. What do you think?"
"I think you should drink."
"But we also have a party to attend Saturday night. If I drink Friday night, I can't drink Saturday night."
"Why not? You took two tests, you can drink two nights. Besides. You "drunk" is like two drinks these days."
"TWO!?"
"Okay, one."
"Whatever. Jerk. Why are you.... Oh right! I forgot. You like drunk Emily. Of course you want her to come out."
"..."
"What? I'm silly when I'm drunk. Harmless fun."
"Well..."
"What?! You're making me nervous! Do I usually embarrass myself when drinking? What?!"
"No...it's just that I already have plans on Friday with this other girl who's sort of boring and less fun, and I'm trying to figure out an excuse to get out of them if drunk Emily is available."
"Wait, I thought WE had plans for Friday?"
"..."
"I hate you."
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Pinching Pennies
It's official. I've become too cheap for Target.
It was a startling revelation that I came face-to-face with today, and it's devastating because I *heart* Target. I really really do. And I refuse (absolutely REFUSE) to sell my soul to the soulless unethical devil that is Wal-Mart.* So what does that leave me? Dollar Store? Is this what my life has become?
It happened so gradually that I didn't even notice. While I've always had a debilitating fear of debt, I've not always been miserly. It began when IUPUI made their monthly tuition payment plan into four monthly payments instead of five. I realize that it all evens out in the end, but during?? Ugh. It's like two and a half car payments a month. (Four if you own a Kia.) December can't come soon enough. Maybe I'll eat something other than Ramen Noodles to celebrate.
How bad is it? For your consideration:
Exhibit A: When we were facing weeks with high temperatures in the 40's and 50's, I refused to turn on the heat in my house. I rationalized that I was only there approximately 9 hours per day - 7 of which are spent sleeping in flannel pjs with flannel sheets with the other 2 spent on the couch underneath two or three furry mammals. (I will point out that during that time, the dogs had a space heater that the cat would sleep next to. I guess we all know who's more important in this story.)
Exhibit B: I was ecstatic to find $1 hand soap at CVS the other day. That ecstacy has subsided since I found out that $1 hand soap is more like a 70/30 water to soap ratio. Apparently that's why it comes in such a big bottle. Still, I can't say I wouldn't buy it again.
Exhibit C: The boy told me that he ran out of shampoo two weeks ago, and has been too lazy to go to the store. So he's been using regular soap to wash his hair, "which actually works pretty well." I briefly considered it. I wish I were kidding.**
Exhibit D: I always said that the two things that I would not penny-pinch on were paper towels and toilet paper (none of this 1-ply tissue paper, thankyouverymuch.) I've since given in on the paper towels, and after seeing the dramatic price difference between "my" toilet paper and the sandpaper that I would normally never consider, my resolve is wavering.
Exhibit E: I currently have two AAA batteries that work in my house. They are being rotated between whatever remote controls I need to work the electronic equipment I feel necessary to complete my life at the time. The batteries also travel from room to room if I decide I want to watch a DVD in bed. If a remote requires AA batteries, I just don't use it. I throw stuffed animals at the buttons on the electronic equipment instead.
Exhibit F: Three weeks ago when cleaning my toilet, I was suddenly appalled by the state of my toilet scrub brush and threw it away. (Translation, the wire part rusted through and broke off in the toilet.) The following week when I went to clean, I was, of course, surprised by my lack of toilet scrub brush. Since then, my toilet has been disinfected three times but not scrubbed... and I'm starting to think that's okay.
CLEARLY something has to be done.
Now, I won't lie. This miserliness is a combination of not having money and being too lazy to use my free time to go places where I would spend the money that the nice people at Visa lend me. I think it was the unscrubbed toilet that pushed me over the edge, but last week I decided that the next free time I had would be spent being un-miserly. I had a huge b*tch of an organic chem test yesterday, but I promised myself that once that test passed, I would run to Target and purchase everything that I was missing in my life, including good paper towels.***
Last Thursday, my cousin sent me a delightful surprise that deserves its own blog post. As soon as I can get the boy to snap my picture with the delightful surprise, you'll hear all about it. As a result, I began searching Indianapolis for more of this delightful surprise that I had previously not known existed. I wanted some more so that I could share with the boy and not get into fist fights when he tried to take some without asking. Unfortunately, they were nowhere to be found in all my usual haunts.****
Today? Today I fulfilled my promise to myself and purchased batteries, good paper towels, a toilet scrub brush and various other necessities at Target. (I kept myself away from the dog Halloween costumes - I'm not a complete idiot.) While wandering the aisles of my beloved Target, I FOUND MY DELIGHTFUL SURPRISE!!! Which made me wonder when the last time was that I was in Target....and I couldn't remember. This was immediately followed by the thought, "Well of course I haven't been to a Target in a while. Target is a NICE store."
And I was horrified because while I heart Target, the term "nice store" is generally reserved for a store that I can't afford. Which made me decide that penny pinching on this level is ridiculous, because I can afford Target.
And then I looked at my bank account again.
Damn tuition.
Sniff. It's not you, Target. It's me. It's just that I can't leave your premises without spending under $100.00 - it's physically not possible. It's just that CVS is closer and has Extra Care bucks that make things that I purchase cheaper. (Not to mention the money they gave me to transfer my prescription...and $1 hand soap.) It's just that crappy paper towels are also available at the grocery store with the cheaper dog food, and that saves me a trip, which saves gas. We've all got to make sacrifices. It's a tough economy. I just need a break. I promise I'll be back in December and then again in the summer when tuition payments aren't making my house as cold as a refrigerator.*****
But... I'm easy, you know. If you lower your costs on Purina One (Chicken and Rice flavor - this part is VERY important) we can probably work something out. Call me!
*Absolutely no judgement if you shop there. Promise.
**I ended up enabling his laziness buy buying shampoo FOR him because although his hair smelled really clean, I couldn't bear the thought of someone not using shampoo.
***This gave me something to look forward to while studying. Again, I wish I were kidding.
****Remember the use of the word "haunts" there. It's cracking me up. It will make much more sense to you when you find out what the delightful surprise was.
*****Of course, tuition payments are also responsible for the new game, "How many stuffed animals until the TV turns on" so it's not ALL bad. Blue LOVED this game, and sometimes his tail would turn the TV on for me.
It was a startling revelation that I came face-to-face with today, and it's devastating because I *heart* Target. I really really do. And I refuse (absolutely REFUSE) to sell my soul to the soulless unethical devil that is Wal-Mart.* So what does that leave me? Dollar Store? Is this what my life has become?
It happened so gradually that I didn't even notice. While I've always had a debilitating fear of debt, I've not always been miserly. It began when IUPUI made their monthly tuition payment plan into four monthly payments instead of five. I realize that it all evens out in the end, but during?? Ugh. It's like two and a half car payments a month. (Four if you own a Kia.) December can't come soon enough. Maybe I'll eat something other than Ramen Noodles to celebrate.
How bad is it? For your consideration:
Exhibit A: When we were facing weeks with high temperatures in the 40's and 50's, I refused to turn on the heat in my house. I rationalized that I was only there approximately 9 hours per day - 7 of which are spent sleeping in flannel pjs with flannel sheets with the other 2 spent on the couch underneath two or three furry mammals. (I will point out that during that time, the dogs had a space heater that the cat would sleep next to. I guess we all know who's more important in this story.)
Exhibit B: I was ecstatic to find $1 hand soap at CVS the other day. That ecstacy has subsided since I found out that $1 hand soap is more like a 70/30 water to soap ratio. Apparently that's why it comes in such a big bottle. Still, I can't say I wouldn't buy it again.
Exhibit C: The boy told me that he ran out of shampoo two weeks ago, and has been too lazy to go to the store. So he's been using regular soap to wash his hair, "which actually works pretty well." I briefly considered it. I wish I were kidding.**
Exhibit D: I always said that the two things that I would not penny-pinch on were paper towels and toilet paper (none of this 1-ply tissue paper, thankyouverymuch.) I've since given in on the paper towels, and after seeing the dramatic price difference between "my" toilet paper and the sandpaper that I would normally never consider, my resolve is wavering.
Exhibit E: I currently have two AAA batteries that work in my house. They are being rotated between whatever remote controls I need to work the electronic equipment I feel necessary to complete my life at the time. The batteries also travel from room to room if I decide I want to watch a DVD in bed. If a remote requires AA batteries, I just don't use it. I throw stuffed animals at the buttons on the electronic equipment instead.
Exhibit F: Three weeks ago when cleaning my toilet, I was suddenly appalled by the state of my toilet scrub brush and threw it away. (Translation, the wire part rusted through and broke off in the toilet.) The following week when I went to clean, I was, of course, surprised by my lack of toilet scrub brush. Since then, my toilet has been disinfected three times but not scrubbed... and I'm starting to think that's okay.
CLEARLY something has to be done.
Now, I won't lie. This miserliness is a combination of not having money and being too lazy to use my free time to go places where I would spend the money that the nice people at Visa lend me. I think it was the unscrubbed toilet that pushed me over the edge, but last week I decided that the next free time I had would be spent being un-miserly. I had a huge b*tch of an organic chem test yesterday, but I promised myself that once that test passed, I would run to Target and purchase everything that I was missing in my life, including good paper towels.***
Last Thursday, my cousin sent me a delightful surprise that deserves its own blog post. As soon as I can get the boy to snap my picture with the delightful surprise, you'll hear all about it. As a result, I began searching Indianapolis for more of this delightful surprise that I had previously not known existed. I wanted some more so that I could share with the boy and not get into fist fights when he tried to take some without asking. Unfortunately, they were nowhere to be found in all my usual haunts.****
Today? Today I fulfilled my promise to myself and purchased batteries, good paper towels, a toilet scrub brush and various other necessities at Target. (I kept myself away from the dog Halloween costumes - I'm not a complete idiot.) While wandering the aisles of my beloved Target, I FOUND MY DELIGHTFUL SURPRISE!!! Which made me wonder when the last time was that I was in Target....and I couldn't remember. This was immediately followed by the thought, "Well of course I haven't been to a Target in a while. Target is a NICE store."
And I was horrified because while I heart Target, the term "nice store" is generally reserved for a store that I can't afford. Which made me decide that penny pinching on this level is ridiculous, because I can afford Target.
And then I looked at my bank account again.
Damn tuition.
Sniff. It's not you, Target. It's me. It's just that I can't leave your premises without spending under $100.00 - it's physically not possible. It's just that CVS is closer and has Extra Care bucks that make things that I purchase cheaper. (Not to mention the money they gave me to transfer my prescription...and $1 hand soap.) It's just that crappy paper towels are also available at the grocery store with the cheaper dog food, and that saves me a trip, which saves gas. We've all got to make sacrifices. It's a tough economy. I just need a break. I promise I'll be back in December and then again in the summer when tuition payments aren't making my house as cold as a refrigerator.*****
But... I'm easy, you know. If you lower your costs on Purina One (Chicken and Rice flavor - this part is VERY important) we can probably work something out. Call me!
*Absolutely no judgement if you shop there. Promise.
**I ended up enabling his laziness buy buying shampoo FOR him because although his hair smelled really clean, I couldn't bear the thought of someone not using shampoo.
***This gave me something to look forward to while studying. Again, I wish I were kidding.
****Remember the use of the word "haunts" there. It's cracking me up. It will make much more sense to you when you find out what the delightful surprise was.
*****Of course, tuition payments are also responsible for the new game, "How many stuffed animals until the TV turns on" so it's not ALL bad. Blue LOVED this game, and sometimes his tail would turn the TV on for me.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Back to Center
First things first. I did NOT speak to my Favorite Band Director this past weekend. I have no idea why except that when I saw him from afar, I said something like, "He looks so different!" and my friend responded with, "Of course, Emily, it's been 13 years."
Thirteen years. Thirteen YEARS. Something about that freaked the HECK out of me. Mr. Favorite Band director joined his family after the marching band performance (that was AWESOME, btw. First time to semi-state EVER. Go Central Bears!!) and had a nine-year-old daughter and a four-year-old son. Holy crap!
And so I froze. Like a deer in headlights. (Or probably more like a creepy stalker since I kept staring at him from a distance but refused to budge from my seat.) When it was time to leave the competition, I came to my senses and ran all over the place trying to find Mr. Favorite Band Director for a few moments of conversation, but alas, it was not to be. Serves me right. Maybe next time I won't be such an ex-band-geek wimp.
In case you can't infer from the above information, it was a fantastic weekend. Notwithstanding my "creepy stalker" moment, I had so much fun relaxing with my friends, hanging out with my dad, reliving high school memories, and having a much needed heart-to-heart girl chat. In fact, it was such a GOOD weekend, that it was very very difficult and depressing to come back to real life.
Because you know how sometimes you just put your head down and power through things? And sometimes you just get into such a rhythm of powering through that you don't really realize how things are? Like you sort of know that things are difficult and they suck, but you don't really realize because what's the point of focusing on that when you don't have a choice but to just get through it? But then you have a great relaxing weekend where for just two days a load is lifted off your shoulders? After that happens, the stark contrast between "fabulous" and "your real life" is sometimes overwhelming. And that's what happened to me on Sunday.
It's like on the drive home, all I could hear was my organic textbook calling me, "Hi Emily! Remember how you have to read two more chapters before the test next week and how you have homework due on Friday that you didn't do this weekend while you were "relaxing?" Oh, and don't forget about how the lectures in class lately have sounded like a foreign language." Or my physics notes beckoning, "Yo Em! I know you're much stronger in this class than you are in o-chem, and have thus been treating me like a red-headed step child. But if you're honest with yourself, you've been completing the last couple of homework assignments without really understanding them, capisce? That might prove to be a problem next week on that test you have. You know... the one two days after the o-chem test? Way to go on wasting this entire weekend!"
But the thing is, this weekend wasn't wasted. I needed it. I needed my friend to ask me how I was doing and to poke and prod after I said, "fine." I needed to see my dad and see how happy he was to have Blue back. I needed to see how happy my friend is with her boyfriend and squeal over how she's going to get engaged, and soon!
But now it's back to the daily grind. Because what choice do I really have but to put my head down and just power through? This, too, shall pass. Only this time, I was kinder to myself and took Monday as a "mental health day" when I slept, slept and transitioned slowly into doing homework to get a tiny bit ahead of where I was on Sunday night. This still means that I have things to accomplish every night after class... and two tests to study for this weekend. But at least now I feel like I can face all that again instead of feeling like I want to hide under the covers.
So yes, this too shall pass. I just hope it passes really really quickly. (On the bright side, at least I know I made one good decision this year.)
Thirteen years. Thirteen YEARS. Something about that freaked the HECK out of me. Mr. Favorite Band director joined his family after the marching band performance (that was AWESOME, btw. First time to semi-state EVER. Go Central Bears!!) and had a nine-year-old daughter and a four-year-old son. Holy crap!
And so I froze. Like a deer in headlights. (Or probably more like a creepy stalker since I kept staring at him from a distance but refused to budge from my seat.) When it was time to leave the competition, I came to my senses and ran all over the place trying to find Mr. Favorite Band Director for a few moments of conversation, but alas, it was not to be. Serves me right. Maybe next time I won't be such an ex-band-geek wimp.
In case you can't infer from the above information, it was a fantastic weekend. Notwithstanding my "creepy stalker" moment, I had so much fun relaxing with my friends, hanging out with my dad, reliving high school memories, and having a much needed heart-to-heart girl chat. In fact, it was such a GOOD weekend, that it was very very difficult and depressing to come back to real life.
Because you know how sometimes you just put your head down and power through things? And sometimes you just get into such a rhythm of powering through that you don't really realize how things are? Like you sort of know that things are difficult and they suck, but you don't really realize because what's the point of focusing on that when you don't have a choice but to just get through it? But then you have a great relaxing weekend where for just two days a load is lifted off your shoulders? After that happens, the stark contrast between "fabulous" and "your real life" is sometimes overwhelming. And that's what happened to me on Sunday.
It's like on the drive home, all I could hear was my organic textbook calling me, "Hi Emily! Remember how you have to read two more chapters before the test next week and how you have homework due on Friday that you didn't do this weekend while you were "relaxing?" Oh, and don't forget about how the lectures in class lately have sounded like a foreign language." Or my physics notes beckoning, "Yo Em! I know you're much stronger in this class than you are in o-chem, and have thus been treating me like a red-headed step child. But if you're honest with yourself, you've been completing the last couple of homework assignments without really understanding them, capisce? That might prove to be a problem next week on that test you have. You know... the one two days after the o-chem test? Way to go on wasting this entire weekend!"
But the thing is, this weekend wasn't wasted. I needed it. I needed my friend to ask me how I was doing and to poke and prod after I said, "fine." I needed to see my dad and see how happy he was to have Blue back. I needed to see how happy my friend is with her boyfriend and squeal over how she's going to get engaged, and soon!
But now it's back to the daily grind. Because what choice do I really have but to put my head down and just power through? This, too, shall pass. Only this time, I was kinder to myself and took Monday as a "mental health day" when I slept, slept and transitioned slowly into doing homework to get a tiny bit ahead of where I was on Sunday night. This still means that I have things to accomplish every night after class... and two tests to study for this weekend. But at least now I feel like I can face all that again instead of feeling like I want to hide under the covers.
So yes, this too shall pass. I just hope it passes really really quickly. (On the bright side, at least I know I made one good decision this year.)
Monday, October 12, 2009
Dude - I am totally with you
As the past weekend waned, I found myself trying to plan for the upcoming weekend and another trip to the parent's house to return their dog. As important as it is for me to return their dog, I must admit that I'm heading home for a completely non-related reason as well.
I'm volunteering at my high school's band regional competition.
As my friend Candy said, "How did you get roped into that?!"
I'm actually pretty excited about it. I mean, not only was marching band (in some form) a huge part of my life for four years, I loved, loved, LOVED my band instructor. And even though I enjoy seeing marching bands perform even now, I'm super excited to see my old band instructor. As an added bonus, I haven't seen my high school's band perform in well over ten years... and I'll be in town anyway... so why not?
And as the date approaches, I find myself overwhelmed with high school memories. One in particular stands out from the others.
It happened in the days leading up to Christmas break. Band "class" was never very difficult, but in the week before break, it was basically a relaxed study hall. I was struggling with chemistry homework and (as is my nature) being very vocal about my displeasure with said chemistry homework. My band instructor came over to where I was sitting and asked to take a look. He then gave me some pointers that allowed me to figure out the answers to my problems with no further struggles. Not only that, but I completely understood the explanation he gave me. Thankfully relieved, I proceeded to quiz him as to how he knew chemistry so well.
My favorite band instructor in the world then proceeded to tell my friends and I that he had graduated with a degree in chemical engineering.
Even though I'm sure these weren't the exact words going through my head, I distinctly remember my 18-year-old self thinking something along the lines of "WTF?!"
I'm sure my puzzled expression made his day because I remember him laughing out loud. This broke my stunned silence and I asked him (with my signature Emily tact) why on earth he was a band instructor with a degree in chemical engineering??
At the time, the conversation was one of the more interesting, yet confusing, discussions I had ever had with a teacher. I have always had difficulty picturing people in roles that are outside the ones that they play in my life. The idea that there was more to my band instructor than being, well, a band instructor, was infinitely fascinating. I proceeded to quiz him mercilessly.
Turns out he had graduated with his degree in chemical engineering, worked a couple of years in that field, determined that it just wasn't for him, and then decided to follow his true passion of music and teaching. I remember thinking, 'Well, whatever makes you happy, I guess. But why would you go through all that schooling to be a band instructor?' What I actually said was, "Well, lucky for me you have all that chemistry knowledge. Otherwise I might never have gotten these problems done." (I also made a mental note to bring my chemistry homework to band class from that day forward.)
Then one of my other friends stumbled upon something much more delicious. Our band instructor was dating her violin instructor. This was generally considered "off limits" to discuss with Mr. Favorite Band Instructor, but something about how he revealed his background in chemical engineering and the general relaxed atmosphere of the day must have made her more bold than usual. So she asked, "Mr. Favorite Band instructor - when are you going to marry Betsy?"
Immediately his tone became warning, "Girls..."
So I tried to soften it, "But....why WOULDN'T you get married?"
He thought for a moment and said, "This is not appropriate conversation."
My friend continued to tease him, "But she's so nice! I really like her. You should get married."
Our band instructor then got up to do another walk/security check around the room. "You'll understand when you're older."
After he left, we continued to talk for a while about how cool it was that he had this whole background that we never would have imagined. Chemical Engineering!! How awesome is that? (but why is he a band instructor?) And why WOULDN'T he want to get married? How weird is that?
Looking back, our band instructor must have been around the age I am now...perhaps a bit younger. Light years older than us, it seemed at the time, but now? Notsomuch.
Now? I know I probably won't get the chance, but I want to tell him that he was right. I DO understand now. In fact, I am totally with him. Changing the entire course of your life after discovering that the first choice you made just isn't quite "you?" Check. Not quite ready to be married yet? (even though all signs say that it's the "next step?") Check. All those things that I couldn't imagine happening when I was eighteen? Check. I wish I could sit down with him and tell him that I remember that day. And that it's nice to remember that if someone I admired went from being a chemical engineer to a band instructor, perhaps it's not so crazy to think that I could go from a marketing major to a veterinarian.
Years later (perhaps even after I graduated from college) I heard that Mr. Favorite Band Instructor did, in fact, marry Betsy and last I heard they had started a family.
Guess there's still hope for me yet.
I'm volunteering at my high school's band regional competition.
As my friend Candy said, "How did you get roped into that?!"
I'm actually pretty excited about it. I mean, not only was marching band (in some form) a huge part of my life for four years, I loved, loved, LOVED my band instructor. And even though I enjoy seeing marching bands perform even now, I'm super excited to see my old band instructor. As an added bonus, I haven't seen my high school's band perform in well over ten years... and I'll be in town anyway... so why not?
And as the date approaches, I find myself overwhelmed with high school memories. One in particular stands out from the others.
It happened in the days leading up to Christmas break. Band "class" was never very difficult, but in the week before break, it was basically a relaxed study hall. I was struggling with chemistry homework and (as is my nature) being very vocal about my displeasure with said chemistry homework. My band instructor came over to where I was sitting and asked to take a look. He then gave me some pointers that allowed me to figure out the answers to my problems with no further struggles. Not only that, but I completely understood the explanation he gave me. Thankfully relieved, I proceeded to quiz him as to how he knew chemistry so well.
My favorite band instructor in the world then proceeded to tell my friends and I that he had graduated with a degree in chemical engineering.
Even though I'm sure these weren't the exact words going through my head, I distinctly remember my 18-year-old self thinking something along the lines of "WTF?!"
I'm sure my puzzled expression made his day because I remember him laughing out loud. This broke my stunned silence and I asked him (with my signature Emily tact) why on earth he was a band instructor with a degree in chemical engineering??
At the time, the conversation was one of the more interesting, yet confusing, discussions I had ever had with a teacher. I have always had difficulty picturing people in roles that are outside the ones that they play in my life. The idea that there was more to my band instructor than being, well, a band instructor, was infinitely fascinating. I proceeded to quiz him mercilessly.
Turns out he had graduated with his degree in chemical engineering, worked a couple of years in that field, determined that it just wasn't for him, and then decided to follow his true passion of music and teaching. I remember thinking, 'Well, whatever makes you happy, I guess. But why would you go through all that schooling to be a band instructor?' What I actually said was, "Well, lucky for me you have all that chemistry knowledge. Otherwise I might never have gotten these problems done." (I also made a mental note to bring my chemistry homework to band class from that day forward.)
Then one of my other friends stumbled upon something much more delicious. Our band instructor was dating her violin instructor. This was generally considered "off limits" to discuss with Mr. Favorite Band Instructor, but something about how he revealed his background in chemical engineering and the general relaxed atmosphere of the day must have made her more bold than usual. So she asked, "Mr. Favorite Band instructor - when are you going to marry Betsy?"
Immediately his tone became warning, "Girls..."
So I tried to soften it, "But....why WOULDN'T you get married?"
He thought for a moment and said, "This is not appropriate conversation."
My friend continued to tease him, "But she's so nice! I really like her. You should get married."
Our band instructor then got up to do another walk/security check around the room. "You'll understand when you're older."
After he left, we continued to talk for a while about how cool it was that he had this whole background that we never would have imagined. Chemical Engineering!! How awesome is that? (but why is he a band instructor?) And why WOULDN'T he want to get married? How weird is that?
Looking back, our band instructor must have been around the age I am now...perhaps a bit younger. Light years older than us, it seemed at the time, but now? Notsomuch.
Now? I know I probably won't get the chance, but I want to tell him that he was right. I DO understand now. In fact, I am totally with him. Changing the entire course of your life after discovering that the first choice you made just isn't quite "you?" Check. Not quite ready to be married yet? (even though all signs say that it's the "next step?") Check. All those things that I couldn't imagine happening when I was eighteen? Check. I wish I could sit down with him and tell him that I remember that day. And that it's nice to remember that if someone I admired went from being a chemical engineer to a band instructor, perhaps it's not so crazy to think that I could go from a marketing major to a veterinarian.
Years later (perhaps even after I graduated from college) I heard that Mr. Favorite Band Instructor did, in fact, marry Betsy and last I heard they had started a family.
Guess there's still hope for me yet.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Ramblings of a Sleep Deprived Mind
First things first - no word on the physics exam. I anticipate I'll get the results on Thursday. Wait, let me re-phrase that. Our professor will give us back our tests on Thursday so as not to awaken the sleeping beast that is Emily's rage and cause her to go postal from the unbearable suspense.
This morning, I was racking my brain for blog fodder and my mind drifted back to the past weekend of bliss. Bliss because I unexpectedly ignored all responsibilities and stress and had a fantastic time. Of course, that weekend led to late nights of homework every night this week, but I think that's an even trade. The weekend was bliss.
It began with a trip to my hometown to pick up Blue and a father/daughter date. After a free movie and satisfying lunch, I planned to meet up with my friend for an evening out....at a BAR!
I was initially conflicted about the evening out. For the drive home (3 hours plus) and to see my dad, I was dressed casually in sneakers and a Colts sweatshirt. This sort of outfit has become my uniform when not at work. I honestly can't remember the last time I put on makeup.... and fixing my hair? Shoot, I haven't even used my hair dryer in MONTHS. Getting up with enough time to get into the office at 7:00am is difficult enough for a morning-hater like me. When I have to decide whether to sleep 10 more minutes, or fix my hair? Sleep wins every time.
But going out to a bar? I mean, how often do I go out? I'm either at work, school, or cuddled up under a blanket at home with a dog. I don't put much stock in appearances anyway, and in those three situations who am I trying to impress?
But going out? With another single female? Ready to have a glass of wine and go OUT?!
Oh, but the effort to get ready. And for what? It's not like I'm trying to pick up men. I know someone who might be upset if that was my goal.
So I did what any female would do. I called the other female going out with me and we discussed how we should dress. Luckily she was as excited about an evening out as I was (apparently neither of us gets out much) and so we decided that high heels were appropriate. Her excitement was contagious, so when I hung up the phone I practically skipped to my room to get ready.
Dude. We were HOTTT!
Which lead us to discuss why women would fix themselves up to look their very best every day. I mean, if you look your best every day, where's the 'wow factor' when you get really dressed up? I waffle on this subject. Sometimes I think it's insecurity that leads women to refuse to leave their house without full makeup. They must not think they're pretty enough otherwise, right? But other times, I think it's insecurity that keeps women from wearing makeup every day. After all, if you're not TRYING to compete with other women, you can't lose, right? What I finally settled on is that neither theory is correct, and it's all about whatever makes you feel comfortable.* I have several friends who look perfectly put together every time I see them, and yet, I'm perfectly comfortable next to them in my tennis shoes because they're comfortable with themselves. And I also know people who are perfectly put together with an edge. I don't know how else to describe it, but I feel uncomfortable in my tennis shoes because I feel like they're measuring up to see how they look in relation to those around them instead of how they feel about themselves. I tend not to like being around those people.
Me personally? I really just don't care enough to put effort into appearance. It's not that important to me. I can appreciate my friends who can dress well (and I would LOVE to have one of them come shopping with me and dress me. Any takers? Please? Your fashion-challenged friend is begging you.) But I love the 'wow factor.' I love being rewarded with compliments when I actually put effort into my appearance. I love the excitement of knowing I look good** and spending an evening doing something I wouldn't normally do.
My friend and I were both giddy with wearing high heels and makeup. As an added bonus, it turned out that we went to high school with the head bartender at the bar we chose. We didn't pick up men, but that wasn't the point. We caught up, talked to random men who approached us, judged the VERY short skirt that made her way around the bar*** and had a great evening.
Haven't worn makeup since.
Women? I would love opinions on this. To wear makeup or not to wear makeup? To dress up or not to dress up? To sneaker or not to sneaker. Those are the questions. Opinions appreciated.
*But I hold on to the caveat that it's a fine line between wearing makeup every day, and eventually getting to the point where you're wearing full makeup to the gym because OH MY GOD you can't be seen in public without MAKEUP!! I worry about women when it gets to that point.
**Reality really doesn't matter much here...it's all about how I feel. I tend to avoid mirrors. I know I look hot, reality does not need to confirm or deny the facts.
***Dude! We could totally see snatch. Well groomed... but still!!
This morning, I was racking my brain for blog fodder and my mind drifted back to the past weekend of bliss. Bliss because I unexpectedly ignored all responsibilities and stress and had a fantastic time. Of course, that weekend led to late nights of homework every night this week, but I think that's an even trade. The weekend was bliss.
It began with a trip to my hometown to pick up Blue and a father/daughter date. After a free movie and satisfying lunch, I planned to meet up with my friend for an evening out....at a BAR!
I was initially conflicted about the evening out. For the drive home (3 hours plus) and to see my dad, I was dressed casually in sneakers and a Colts sweatshirt. This sort of outfit has become my uniform when not at work. I honestly can't remember the last time I put on makeup.... and fixing my hair? Shoot, I haven't even used my hair dryer in MONTHS. Getting up with enough time to get into the office at 7:00am is difficult enough for a morning-hater like me. When I have to decide whether to sleep 10 more minutes, or fix my hair? Sleep wins every time.
But going out to a bar? I mean, how often do I go out? I'm either at work, school, or cuddled up under a blanket at home with a dog. I don't put much stock in appearances anyway, and in those three situations who am I trying to impress?
But going out? With another single female? Ready to have a glass of wine and go OUT?!
Oh, but the effort to get ready. And for what? It's not like I'm trying to pick up men. I know someone who might be upset if that was my goal.
So I did what any female would do. I called the other female going out with me and we discussed how we should dress. Luckily she was as excited about an evening out as I was (apparently neither of us gets out much) and so we decided that high heels were appropriate. Her excitement was contagious, so when I hung up the phone I practically skipped to my room to get ready.
Dude. We were HOTTT!
Which lead us to discuss why women would fix themselves up to look their very best every day. I mean, if you look your best every day, where's the 'wow factor' when you get really dressed up? I waffle on this subject. Sometimes I think it's insecurity that leads women to refuse to leave their house without full makeup. They must not think they're pretty enough otherwise, right? But other times, I think it's insecurity that keeps women from wearing makeup every day. After all, if you're not TRYING to compete with other women, you can't lose, right? What I finally settled on is that neither theory is correct, and it's all about whatever makes you feel comfortable.* I have several friends who look perfectly put together every time I see them, and yet, I'm perfectly comfortable next to them in my tennis shoes because they're comfortable with themselves. And I also know people who are perfectly put together with an edge. I don't know how else to describe it, but I feel uncomfortable in my tennis shoes because I feel like they're measuring up to see how they look in relation to those around them instead of how they feel about themselves. I tend not to like being around those people.
Me personally? I really just don't care enough to put effort into appearance. It's not that important to me. I can appreciate my friends who can dress well (and I would LOVE to have one of them come shopping with me and dress me. Any takers? Please? Your fashion-challenged friend is begging you.) But I love the 'wow factor.' I love being rewarded with compliments when I actually put effort into my appearance. I love the excitement of knowing I look good** and spending an evening doing something I wouldn't normally do.
My friend and I were both giddy with wearing high heels and makeup. As an added bonus, it turned out that we went to high school with the head bartender at the bar we chose. We didn't pick up men, but that wasn't the point. We caught up, talked to random men who approached us, judged the VERY short skirt that made her way around the bar*** and had a great evening.
Haven't worn makeup since.
Women? I would love opinions on this. To wear makeup or not to wear makeup? To dress up or not to dress up? To sneaker or not to sneaker. Those are the questions. Opinions appreciated.
*But I hold on to the caveat that it's a fine line between wearing makeup every day, and eventually getting to the point where you're wearing full makeup to the gym because OH MY GOD you can't be seen in public without MAKEUP!! I worry about women when it gets to that point.
**Reality really doesn't matter much here...it's all about how I feel. I tend to avoid mirrors. I know I look hot, reality does not need to confirm or deny the facts.
***Dude! We could totally see snatch. Well groomed... but still!!
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Bad Juju
Work yesterday was the worst suckiest suck to ever have sucked. It was horrible. Everything that could have gone wrong did. And what made it worse was that it followed an exceptional three day weekend during which I did not pay attention to diet, school, or any sort of responsibility whatsoever. It's like karma decided to kick me in the butt for being so irresponsible.
Being used to such days, during which suck seems to build on suck to culminate in a day that would have been better spent in bed, I was expecting nothing less than the usual, and in fact looking forward to plenty of sucky fodder with which to write a blog for my dusty little neglected and cobweb-filled corner of the internet.
(Holy CRAP was that a long sentence.)
But I got home, and my neighbor had FINALLY mowed the lawn. His turn, to be sure, but I was still thrilled because it hadn't been mowed since the thing removal of 2009, (over a month ago, ahem) and I sure as hell wasn't going to break down and mow it when it wasn't my turn.
Suffice to say that ourlawn collection of cat-tails was looking fantastic.
So a freshly mowed lawn greeted me when I left the sucky hole of work. Things were looking up.
On the other hand, my first o-chem test of the semester was due to be returned that evening. That definitely did not bode well. Especially when I arrived and found out that the class average was a 53%. Fantastic.
(Note: the urge to use a curse word in the middle of "fantastic" was almost impossible to resist. Praise me for my strong exertion of will.)
Turns out that my o-chem wasn't as terrible as I anticipated. Now that I've had a night to sleep on it, I've realized that the actual percentage score doesn't really matter, right? It's the letter grade that matters. And that letter grade is in the B-/C+ vicinity. I prefer to call that a B-. It's not what I wanted, but it could have been so much worse (there were scores in the 30% range) and I'll work harder next time.
I got home to two dogs (yes, Blue is back for another two week visit while my parents travel abroad) that were running around like maniacs, and yet Blue didn't even have the courtesy to offer blog fodder by chewing on something that is necessary for me to continue living. Like the TV remote. Or my physics lab that was "coincidentally" left within his reach on the coffee table and then "accidentally" knocked on the floor in front of him.
So despite my foreboding, I have no story of suck for you.
But today is looking strong for a blog about my oh so terrible and not at all melodramatic (but yet adorably hilarious) life. I mean, it's raining, it's dreary, it's cold, my Starbucks guy got my drink wrong, and I get my first physics test back tonight. I'll keep you updated.
Being used to such days, during which suck seems to build on suck to culminate in a day that would have been better spent in bed, I was expecting nothing less than the usual, and in fact looking forward to plenty of sucky fodder with which to write a blog for my dusty little neglected and cobweb-filled corner of the internet.
(Holy CRAP was that a long sentence.)
But I got home, and my neighbor had FINALLY mowed the lawn. His turn, to be sure, but I was still thrilled because it hadn't been mowed since the thing removal of 2009, (over a month ago, ahem) and I sure as hell wasn't going to break down and mow it when it wasn't my turn.
Suffice to say that our
So a freshly mowed lawn greeted me when I left the sucky hole of work. Things were looking up.
On the other hand, my first o-chem test of the semester was due to be returned that evening. That definitely did not bode well. Especially when I arrived and found out that the class average was a 53%. Fantastic.
(Note: the urge to use a curse word in the middle of "fantastic" was almost impossible to resist. Praise me for my strong exertion of will.)
Turns out that my o-chem wasn't as terrible as I anticipated. Now that I've had a night to sleep on it, I've realized that the actual percentage score doesn't really matter, right? It's the letter grade that matters. And that letter grade is in the B-/C+ vicinity. I prefer to call that a B-. It's not what I wanted, but it could have been so much worse (there were scores in the 30% range) and I'll work harder next time.
I got home to two dogs (yes, Blue is back for another two week visit while my parents travel abroad) that were running around like maniacs, and yet Blue didn't even have the courtesy to offer blog fodder by chewing on something that is necessary for me to continue living. Like the TV remote. Or my physics lab that was "coincidentally" left within his reach on the coffee table and then "accidentally" knocked on the floor in front of him.
So despite my foreboding, I have no story of suck for you.
But today is looking strong for a blog about my oh so terrible and not at all melodramatic (but yet adorably hilarious) life. I mean, it's raining, it's dreary, it's cold, my Starbucks guy got my drink wrong, and I get my first physics test back tonight. I'll keep you updated.
Thursday, October 01, 2009
Ask and Ye Shall Receive
So, in a completely unexpected, but totally appreciated gesture, 
Simply Alisa answered my down-in-the-dumps request for encouragement, and sent me a present.
When I got the present, I was thrilled.
When I opened the present, I was more thrilled.
When I saw that it said XL on the box, I was beyond thrilled. Mega-sized DOTS!!
But apparently the XL refers to the size of the box. Not the size of the DOTS.
Meh. They were delicious anyway. And since DOTS from the East Coast are better than Midwest DOTS, I even branched out and ate the yellow ones. Which means that the only DOTS left in the box in this picture are the green ones.
It really is the little things in life. Thanks Alisa!!
Simply Alisa answered my down-in-the-dumps request for encouragement, and sent me a present.When I got the present, I was thrilled.
When I opened the present, I was more thrilled.
When I saw that it said XL on the box, I was beyond thrilled. Mega-sized DOTS!!
But apparently the XL refers to the size of the box. Not the size of the DOTS.
Meh. They were delicious anyway. And since DOTS from the East Coast are better than Midwest DOTS, I even branched out and ate the yellow ones. Which means that the only DOTS left in the box in this picture are the green ones.
It really is the little things in life. Thanks Alisa!!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Random Bullet Points
-Did you know that if you pretend that you don't know something that a stupid person does know, it makes them really REALLY happy to tell you all about it? "Really? Iced Tea has caffeine? I had no idea!"
-I am so tired, I'm almost falling asleep at my desk. I can't believe missing sleep from Monday Night Football would still affect me on Wednesday. I even went to bed on time last night.
-My "friends"* involved me in a weight loss challenge. (Based on points for different things, not total weight loss - though weight loss factors in heavily.) I seem to be in the thick of the running (or at least not left in the dust) and I'm floored. FLOORED. Due to time constraints, I get next to no points for exercise. I'm just religious about journaling and drinking water. Which feels like I'm basically doing nothing. And yet, to date I've lost 6 lbs.
-Trust me, you're glad this is the first you've heard of the weight loss challenge. The first week of competition I was filled with great vitriol for the challenge organizer regarding how she was responsible for my lack of sustenance, and how I was obviously going to starve to death in addition to having to pee every 10 seconds until blissful death took me away.
-Internet drama is exponentially better than soap operas, but still doesn't approach the level of genius that is Gossip Girl.
-I heart Dooce.
-I had an outpouring of hatred for Biggest Loser last night, though ultimately I still enjoy the show. These people are losing 28lbs in two weeks. I call bullshit. The boy tried to pacify me with the fact that those people have a lot (LOT) more fat to lose than I do, but diet irrationality knows no bounds. I only know that it's been a bitch to lose 6 lbs, and I'm super jealous.
-Salmon is diet superfood.
-According to my BMI, I am no longer obese.** Now I'm just overweight. I still haven't changed the first two numbers on my weight, though, so I'm not sure how I feel about that formality change. Check back with me next week.
-Since I do not have one, I totally want to get on zlionfan's Wii and have it tell me how awesome I am for losing weight.
-That last bullet point just cracked me up.
*In quotes because obviously no "real" friend would deprive me of eating. ahem. They forced me. Bound and gagged me. I am an innocent (and hungry) bystander in this insanity.
**According to my BMI, people. I never believed that. I happen to think I just have heavy bones.
-I am so tired, I'm almost falling asleep at my desk. I can't believe missing sleep from Monday Night Football would still affect me on Wednesday. I even went to bed on time last night.
-My "friends"* involved me in a weight loss challenge. (Based on points for different things, not total weight loss - though weight loss factors in heavily.) I seem to be in the thick of the running (or at least not left in the dust) and I'm floored. FLOORED. Due to time constraints, I get next to no points for exercise. I'm just religious about journaling and drinking water. Which feels like I'm basically doing nothing. And yet, to date I've lost 6 lbs.
-Trust me, you're glad this is the first you've heard of the weight loss challenge. The first week of competition I was filled with great vitriol for the challenge organizer regarding how she was responsible for my lack of sustenance, and how I was obviously going to starve to death in addition to having to pee every 10 seconds until blissful death took me away.
-Internet drama is exponentially better than soap operas, but still doesn't approach the level of genius that is Gossip Girl.
-I heart Dooce.
-I had an outpouring of hatred for Biggest Loser last night, though ultimately I still enjoy the show. These people are losing 28lbs in two weeks. I call bullshit. The boy tried to pacify me with the fact that those people have a lot (LOT) more fat to lose than I do, but diet irrationality knows no bounds. I only know that it's been a bitch to lose 6 lbs, and I'm super jealous.
-Salmon is diet superfood.
-According to my BMI, I am no longer obese.** Now I'm just overweight. I still haven't changed the first two numbers on my weight, though, so I'm not sure how I feel about that formality change. Check back with me next week.
-Since I do not have one, I totally want to get on zlionfan's Wii and have it tell me how awesome I am for losing weight.
-That last bullet point just cracked me up.
*In quotes because obviously no "real" friend would deprive me of eating. ahem. They forced me. Bound and gagged me. I am an innocent (and hungry) bystander in this insanity.
**According to my BMI, people. I never believed that. I happen to think I just have heavy bones.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Where is the "Override" button?
I get a lot of "You reveal so much on your blog. I'm not sure I would be comfortable with that." I'm not quite sure I agree, but how do you explain blogging to non-bloggers? I try to explain that about 85% of my blogs are for entertainment's sake. Usually something happens in my life, and I spin it to make it the most amusing anecdote possible. My emotions in the situation are exaggerated for comedic effect, and sometimes the conversations are tweaked to be shorter, wittier, sillier etc. Every blog is based in truth, but they're always stories. They're always designed for entertainment, and they're about me. No one else. Just me.
Of course, then sometimes things happen that need no exaggeration. They're hilarious all by themselves. I think it's the universe's way of keeping me on my toes. In those moments, the boy's gotten used to me giggling to myself for hours afterwards as I "write the blog in my head." Sometimes he'll even contribute. You can thank him next time you see him.
When explaining my blog to my parents, I finally just gave them the address and let them read it themselves.* My father eventually said it was a form of therapy. I almost got to protest, but he was quick to point out that it's cheaper than a therapist (sorry Ann) so he does not think it's a bad thing.
I laughed. I can remember off the top of my head maybe one (or two) blogs that were truly my naked emotions. (And that second one? That was really lighthearted when I think back to how close to the edge I really was.) I told my father that I don't generally like admitting I have emotions....must less discussing them on this blog. I try to keep it anecdotal.
But I'll break that rule today because today? I need some therapy. Today? I feel like a failure. And while my mind knows logically that I am NOT a failure, the feeling persists.
See, this past weekend I made the decision to delay my application to vet school. This past weekend I decided that perhaps (perhaps) I had been a little bit overconfident in thinking that I could rush the process and be able to handle 18 hours of organic chemistry 2, genetics/molecular biology, biological chemistry, and microbiology/immunology next semester. Even without work. Because originally? The plan was to apply this year, and wrap up all of my classes in the spring 2010 semester.
And now the plan is to wait and apply in 2010.
I came to this conclusion after three weeks of physics 2 and an organic chemistry class that is demanding every brain cell that I haven't yet killed off with alcohol.
I don't do "weakness." I'm superwoman, remember? I can handle anything. And while I logically know that this decision isn't a bad one, and in fact, might even be the best decision I've made in a while, I can't help but feel like an utter failure.
This is not a competition thing. And this is not a feeling I've gotten from anyone in my life. Lord knows the boy is thrilled to keep me around for another year.** And my best friend couldn't be more supportive. My parents? Didn't seem to phase them. Another friend (mother of two boys under the age of 4) told me that I was most certainly NOT a failure as I'm currently living the life of three people at once. (Um, she has two children under the age of 4... I still think my life is easier.)
It's all coming from me. Just me. Because if I'm hard on people I'm close to, I'm harder on myself. The standards that I set for myself arenever rarely compromised. I mean, this is the girl who trained to run 13.1 miles just because she wanted an exercise in setting a goal and achieving it. Nevermind that her previous philosophy was to "never run unless chased." Once I set a plan for myself, I don't deviate. I finish what I set out to do, come hell or high water. You know, like a bulldog.
And I KNOW I'm still going to finish the plan that I set for myself. But delaying it a year? Right now it feels like the end of the world. Like I wasn't strong enough to finish what I started. Like I totally suck for only taking 5 hours instead of the usual 10 last year and setting myself back. Like I should have made the decision to become a vet earlier in my life so that I wouldn't feel like the clock is constantly ticking on me now.
Maybe I just need some time to get more perspective. Or maybe I just need to get an A in organic chemistry to feel better. (The A in physics is a given. I have a secret weapon... if I can drag him away from the Beatles Rock Band and the football...) I vote option "B" personally. So if any of your are organic chem tutors and feel like lending your expertise, I am currently accepting applications. Encouragement in the form of DOTS is also accepted. I will also accept offers from men who would like to mow my lawn for me and relieve stress that way. The position of "comfort by laying your head on my lap and looking at me adoringly" has already been filled.***
*They've visited a total of once. Apparently my writing is not as amusing as I originally anticipated.
**Facetious. He's supportive for several other reasons. See? Trying to be lighthearted.
***By Casey you perverts.
Of course, then sometimes things happen that need no exaggeration. They're hilarious all by themselves. I think it's the universe's way of keeping me on my toes. In those moments, the boy's gotten used to me giggling to myself for hours afterwards as I "write the blog in my head." Sometimes he'll even contribute. You can thank him next time you see him.
When explaining my blog to my parents, I finally just gave them the address and let them read it themselves.* My father eventually said it was a form of therapy. I almost got to protest, but he was quick to point out that it's cheaper than a therapist (sorry Ann) so he does not think it's a bad thing.
I laughed. I can remember off the top of my head maybe one (or two) blogs that were truly my naked emotions. (And that second one? That was really lighthearted when I think back to how close to the edge I really was.) I told my father that I don't generally like admitting I have emotions....must less discussing them on this blog. I try to keep it anecdotal.
But I'll break that rule today because today? I need some therapy. Today? I feel like a failure. And while my mind knows logically that I am NOT a failure, the feeling persists.
See, this past weekend I made the decision to delay my application to vet school. This past weekend I decided that perhaps (perhaps) I had been a little bit overconfident in thinking that I could rush the process and be able to handle 18 hours of organic chemistry 2, genetics/molecular biology, biological chemistry, and microbiology/immunology next semester. Even without work. Because originally? The plan was to apply this year, and wrap up all of my classes in the spring 2010 semester.
And now the plan is to wait and apply in 2010.
I came to this conclusion after three weeks of physics 2 and an organic chemistry class that is demanding every brain cell that I haven't yet killed off with alcohol.
I don't do "weakness." I'm superwoman, remember? I can handle anything. And while I logically know that this decision isn't a bad one, and in fact, might even be the best decision I've made in a while, I can't help but feel like an utter failure.
This is not a competition thing. And this is not a feeling I've gotten from anyone in my life. Lord knows the boy is thrilled to keep me around for another year.** And my best friend couldn't be more supportive. My parents? Didn't seem to phase them. Another friend (mother of two boys under the age of 4) told me that I was most certainly NOT a failure as I'm currently living the life of three people at once. (Um, she has two children under the age of 4... I still think my life is easier.)
It's all coming from me. Just me. Because if I'm hard on people I'm close to, I'm harder on myself. The standards that I set for myself are
And I KNOW I'm still going to finish the plan that I set for myself. But delaying it a year? Right now it feels like the end of the world. Like I wasn't strong enough to finish what I started. Like I totally suck for only taking 5 hours instead of the usual 10 last year and setting myself back. Like I should have made the decision to become a vet earlier in my life so that I wouldn't feel like the clock is constantly ticking on me now.
Maybe I just need some time to get more perspective. Or maybe I just need to get an A in organic chemistry to feel better. (The A in physics is a given. I have a secret weapon... if I can drag him away from the Beatles Rock Band and the football...) I vote option "B" personally. So if any of your are organic chem tutors and feel like lending your expertise, I am currently accepting applications. Encouragement in the form of DOTS is also accepted. I will also accept offers from men who would like to mow my lawn for me and relieve stress that way. The position of "comfort by laying your head on my lap and looking at me adoringly" has already been filled.***
*They've visited a total of once. Apparently my writing is not as amusing as I originally anticipated.
**Facetious. He's supportive for several other reasons. See? Trying to be lighthearted.
***By Casey you perverts.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Science
I'm weak. I'll admit it. About a week before I unexpectedly returned Blue, I was feeling tired, stressed and all around worn-out. I had just finished a load of laundry and didn't feel like folding one more article of clothing. It was a Sunday night so the boy had headed off to his house - it was just me the dogs and Laney. I was done cleaning the house, so I decided that all other responsibilities could wait until the upcoming week. I put the laundry basket with unfolded clothes in my hallway where I would trip on it the next day (and thus remind myself that clothes needed folding) and decided spur-of-the-moment to let the dogs sleep with me.
What happened next was interesting.
Instead of taking the dogs to their crates where they normally sleep, I turned off all the lights and headed into the bedroom. This is usually a trigger for joyous running and a simultaneous flying leap onto my bed by two dogs. Sleeping with me is uncommon when there are two of them (they absolutely hog the bed) so they're exceptionally happy when it happens.
When I got to my bedroom after the nighttime bathroom routine, there was only one dog waiting for me. Casey. Hmmm. Where's Blue?
Blue was skulking in the living room - head down and looking for all the world like he was going to get into trouble. My first thought was, "Oh crap. What did you chew?" (Last time I saw that look, he had my digital camera in his mouth. THAT was a good day.) A brief survey of the living room showed everything remained untouched. Confused, I encouraged, "Come on Blue," and headed back to the bedroom.
A few seconds later and again only Casey and I were in the bedroom. I went back to Blue who had the same hangdog look on his face. "Come on Buddy!" No tail wags, and seeming to fear a punishment that wasn't coming, Blue eventually skittered into my bedroom. I have no other way to describe what happened. He skittered. Tail tucked. Like I was forcing him. Like sleeping in the bedroom was punishment. Interesting.
Once in the bedroom, he perked up into the normal happy Blue and the night passed uneventfully. I put the entire incident out of my mind.
The next morning, I went to let the dogs out, and again, only Casey answered my call. This time, Blue was skulking in my bedroom door with the same hangdog look. Again, nothing was chewed. Again, it took quite a bit of persuasion until Blue skittered through the hallway to get outside. Only this time, I realized what was scaring him.
Um, Blue was afraid of the laundry basket sitting in my hallway.
THESE are the big scary pit bulls that everyone is afraid of?
So I did a little experiment. (Excuse the poor video quality.)
I was obviously on one end of the hallway and Blue was on the other with the laundry basket (filled with scary unfolded clothes!!!) between us. You can see Blue's tail wagging furiously as I call him. And you can almost see the indecision on his face as he paces on the other side of the big scary basket.* "Hmmm...I WANT to come to mom....but I might get EATEN! By the BIG SCARY BASKET!! What do I DO?!" (You'll have to excuse the baby talk in the video. That's not what I normally sound like. (I don't think?) But with Blue, you use baby talk. That's all there is to it. If you want to speak like a grown up, you can talk to Casey.)
When I told the boy, he summed it up perfectly. "Awww! Blue is such a pretty, dumb dog." Yes, that he is. He's pretty, and he's dumb. I then proceeded to remove the scary basket, called Blue again, and gave him a big hug when he came right to me.
So there's your highly scientific experiment for the day. Laundry baskets are obviously scarier than pit bulls. Make sure to spread the word.
*You also get the unintentional hilarity of Casey ignoring me completely. Like, "What? She's not calling me. Blue is so dumb."
What happened next was interesting.
Instead of taking the dogs to their crates where they normally sleep, I turned off all the lights and headed into the bedroom. This is usually a trigger for joyous running and a simultaneous flying leap onto my bed by two dogs. Sleeping with me is uncommon when there are two of them (they absolutely hog the bed) so they're exceptionally happy when it happens.
When I got to my bedroom after the nighttime bathroom routine, there was only one dog waiting for me. Casey. Hmmm. Where's Blue?
Blue was skulking in the living room - head down and looking for all the world like he was going to get into trouble. My first thought was, "Oh crap. What did you chew?" (Last time I saw that look, he had my digital camera in his mouth. THAT was a good day.) A brief survey of the living room showed everything remained untouched. Confused, I encouraged, "Come on Blue," and headed back to the bedroom.
A few seconds later and again only Casey and I were in the bedroom. I went back to Blue who had the same hangdog look on his face. "Come on Buddy!" No tail wags, and seeming to fear a punishment that wasn't coming, Blue eventually skittered into my bedroom. I have no other way to describe what happened. He skittered. Tail tucked. Like I was forcing him. Like sleeping in the bedroom was punishment. Interesting.
Once in the bedroom, he perked up into the normal happy Blue and the night passed uneventfully. I put the entire incident out of my mind.
The next morning, I went to let the dogs out, and again, only Casey answered my call. This time, Blue was skulking in my bedroom door with the same hangdog look. Again, nothing was chewed. Again, it took quite a bit of persuasion until Blue skittered through the hallway to get outside. Only this time, I realized what was scaring him.
Um, Blue was afraid of the laundry basket sitting in my hallway.
THESE are the big scary pit bulls that everyone is afraid of?
So I did a little experiment. (Excuse the poor video quality.)
I was obviously on one end of the hallway and Blue was on the other with the laundry basket (filled with scary unfolded clothes!!!) between us. You can see Blue's tail wagging furiously as I call him. And you can almost see the indecision on his face as he paces on the other side of the big scary basket.* "Hmmm...I WANT to come to mom....but I might get EATEN! By the BIG SCARY BASKET!! What do I DO?!" (You'll have to excuse the baby talk in the video. That's not what I normally sound like. (I don't think?) But with Blue, you use baby talk. That's all there is to it. If you want to speak like a grown up, you can talk to Casey.)
When I told the boy, he summed it up perfectly. "Awww! Blue is such a pretty, dumb dog." Yes, that he is. He's pretty, and he's dumb. I then proceeded to remove the scary basket, called Blue again, and gave him a big hug when he came right to me.
So there's your highly scientific experiment for the day. Laundry baskets are obviously scarier than pit bulls. Make sure to spread the word.
*You also get the unintentional hilarity of Casey ignoring me completely. Like, "What? She's not calling me. Blue is so dumb."
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Missing a Dog
We hadn't really gotten a chance to mourn together, and her tears brought out mine. As I sniffled, the dogs raised their head from six feet away and immediately came over to offer their particular brand of comfort. With Blue's head in her lap, my mother said quietly, "He used to lick my hands and my feet."
It's a comment I've heard laughingly dozens of times from my mom, and one that I completely understood. Blue is a licker. My legs, my feet, my hands, my face (if he sneaks up on me.) Sometimes it's to the point of exasperation. "Blue, get back!" is a common theme in my home when he's visiting. Since my mom is the person who most resembles me in her household, I assumed Blue would attach himself to her first and, of course, the licking would continue.
But in that moment, her comment took on a different meaning.
"When you're sad? He'll lick you to offer comfort?"
Her mute nod made me cry even more. Because the dogs? It's like they sense your sadness. And they do what they can. And sometimes? It's something that no one or nothing else can accomplish.
So I'm back down to a one dog household. I'll figure out how to get him back in time for my parents to leave for their next adventure later. Because even with school and all the planning required, if Blue can be there when I can't? Priceless.
It's a comment I've heard laughingly dozens of times from my mom, and one that I completely understood. Blue is a licker. My legs, my feet, my hands, my face (if he sneaks up on me.) Sometimes it's to the point of exasperation. "Blue, get back!" is a common theme in my home when he's visiting. Since my mom is the person who most resembles me in her household, I assumed Blue would attach himself to her first and, of course, the licking would continue.
But in that moment, her comment took on a different meaning.
"When you're sad? He'll lick you to offer comfort?"
Her mute nod made me cry even more. Because the dogs? It's like they sense your sadness. And they do what they can. And sometimes? It's something that no one or nothing else can accomplish.
So I'm back down to a one dog household. I'll figure out how to get him back in time for my parents to leave for their next adventure later. Because even with school and all the planning required, if Blue can be there when I can't? Priceless.
Monday, August 31, 2009
The Great "It" removal of 2009
It's gone.
I am so tired that I don't even think I can be funny about its removal. My arms are so sore that I'm surprised I can reach the keyboard. The only good thing about the whole experience is that I had the foresight to ask the boy to help me with the whole situation. Otherwise I'm sure that "it" would still be standing and I would be a hell of a lot more frustrated.
I originally sent the boy into the back yard with branch clippers to trim back the neighbor's trees that were growing into my back yard while I set out to pull weeds and the thing in the front yard.
I didn't get far.
Apparently if you let weeds live so long, they turn into stubborn little suckers that can not be removed, even if one grabs the weed as close to the root as possible and leans all her weight backwards to let gravity do the work.
As a bonus, I sure felt like I didn't weigh much after this experiment.
I got some weeds up, and marked the "stubborn" ones for removal when the boy was finished with the backyard. Then I turned my attention to "it." Around the perimeter of it, there were several new shoots. They were easy to remove so I got a bit cocky. When I got to the middle of the thing, the shoots were about an inch or so in diameter. Yeah - not so easy to remove.
So I edged my walkway and the front of my yard while I waited for the boy.
When the boy joined me up front, he had much more success with the weeds and "it" than I did.
And as he pulled the larger stalks of it, we noticed that the roots were tubers. Curiouser and curiouser. Well, at least the answer to why the thing reappeared this year is solved. The boy suggested that they might be edible. Neither of us tried them.
I had the momentary concern that we were killing the tulips. But in the end, the boy convinced me that we can always plant more tulips. It would be worth it to get rid of the monstrosity. As it is, I don't think we got all the roots, (despite our best efforts) so I'll keep an eye out next year for shoots.
They were HEAVY. I can't stress that enough. What with the stalks being so tall, and the roots being so big, the uprooted things weighed at least 3-5lbs each.
As we were pulling "it" up, my neighbor emerged on his way to dinner. "Pulling up the mystery bush?" is what he asked.
Several responses went through my mind, but I contented myself with "Yep." It seemed safer that way.
He looked around the lawn at the weeds that had been uprooted and the thing that was in the process of being demolished, laughed and said, "You know, you should probably have done this at the beginning of the season instead of at the end."
Oh, hold me back.
We laughed and I promised to get him out there with me earlier next year. I don't think that's quite what he intended me to say.
You know, yard work when renting is a funny thing. I mean, it's not my house, so I don't really care. But I do want to be able to enjoy my lawn, and the weeds keep me from doing so. But lawn care = no fun. So it's an interesting position to be in. In the end I decided that I would be better in a home with grass and little to no landscaping. Let's be honest - I'm no green thumb, so the less I have to do to keep the lawn looking decent the better. But then again, I can't bring myself to uproot the bush that grows the pretty pink flowers. (We did trim it, though.)
After the weeds and it were pulled, I figured that since it was my house, I would release the boy from his obligation.
"Thanks for your help. All I have left to do is drag this stuff back to the discard pile out back. You can go ahead and go in if you want. I'll join you when I'm done."
I'm not going to lie. I fully expected a "It's no problem. I'll help you drag this stuff out back."
Instead I got an "Okay. See you in a bit for dinner."*
Which accounts for the achy arms today. I guess I deserved that.
*The boy would like me to tell you that he did give me a massage when I got inside, and he did have dinner ready and waiting.**
**The author of this blog would like to tell you that dinner was delivered pizza.***
***The boy would like to note that he paid for said pizza AND left the leftovers at the blog author's house.
I am so tired that I don't even think I can be funny about its removal. My arms are so sore that I'm surprised I can reach the keyboard. The only good thing about the whole experience is that I had the foresight to ask the boy to help me with the whole situation. Otherwise I'm sure that "it" would still be standing and I would be a hell of a lot more frustrated.
I originally sent the boy into the back yard with branch clippers to trim back the neighbor's trees that were growing into my back yard while I set out to pull weeds and the thing in the front yard.
I didn't get far.
Apparently if you let weeds live so long, they turn into stubborn little suckers that can not be removed, even if one grabs the weed as close to the root as possible and leans all her weight backwards to let gravity do the work.
As a bonus, I sure felt like I didn't weigh much after this experiment.
I got some weeds up, and marked the "stubborn" ones for removal when the boy was finished with the backyard. Then I turned my attention to "it." Around the perimeter of it, there were several new shoots. They were easy to remove so I got a bit cocky. When I got to the middle of the thing, the shoots were about an inch or so in diameter. Yeah - not so easy to remove.
So I edged my walkway and the front of my yard while I waited for the boy.
When the boy joined me up front, he had much more success with the weeds and "it" than I did.
And as he pulled the larger stalks of it, we noticed that the roots were tubers. Curiouser and curiouser. Well, at least the answer to why the thing reappeared this year is solved. The boy suggested that they might be edible. Neither of us tried them.I had the momentary concern that we were killing the tulips. But in the end, the boy convinced me that we can always plant more tulips. It would be worth it to get rid of the monstrosity. As it is, I don't think we got all the roots, (despite our best efforts) so I'll keep an eye out next year for shoots.
They were HEAVY. I can't stress that enough. What with the stalks being so tall, and the roots being so big, the uprooted things weighed at least 3-5lbs each.
As we were pulling "it" up, my neighbor emerged on his way to dinner. "Pulling up the mystery bush?" is what he asked.
Several responses went through my mind, but I contented myself with "Yep." It seemed safer that way.
He looked around the lawn at the weeds that had been uprooted and the thing that was in the process of being demolished, laughed and said, "You know, you should probably have done this at the beginning of the season instead of at the end."
Oh, hold me back.
We laughed and I promised to get him out there with me earlier next year. I don't think that's quite what he intended me to say.
You know, yard work when renting is a funny thing. I mean, it's not my house, so I don't really care. But I do want to be able to enjoy my lawn, and the weeds keep me from doing so. But lawn care = no fun. So it's an interesting position to be in. In the end I decided that I would be better in a home with grass and little to no landscaping. Let's be honest - I'm no green thumb, so the less I have to do to keep the lawn looking decent the better. But then again, I can't bring myself to uproot the bush that grows the pretty pink flowers. (We did trim it, though.)
After the weeds and it were pulled, I figured that since it was my house, I would release the boy from his obligation.
"Thanks for your help. All I have left to do is drag this stuff back to the discard pile out back. You can go ahead and go in if you want. I'll join you when I'm done."
I'm not going to lie. I fully expected a "It's no problem. I'll help you drag this stuff out back."
Instead I got an "Okay. See you in a bit for dinner."*
Which accounts for the achy arms today. I guess I deserved that.
*The boy would like me to tell you that he did give me a massage when I got inside, and he did have dinner ready and waiting.**
**The author of this blog would like to tell you that dinner was delivered pizza.***
***The boy would like to note that he paid for said pizza AND left the leftovers at the blog author's house.
Friday, August 28, 2009
It
So there's this thing.
In my yard.
It's not a bush....it's more like a whole lot of individual plants all growing together in the same general area. But the individual plant itself is like a stalk with leaves.
Is it supposed to grow on its own? Or is it supposed to grow in a group like this monstrosity in my lawn? 'Cause the stalks in the middle of the grouping? They're dying from lack of sunlight. Seriously, WTF IS this? It's just...a thing. Last year the boy and I my father uprooted it, and yet here it is again! The REALLY weird thing is that this past spring, (after the uprooting of last year) the area that houses the thing sprouted red and yellow tulips. Really PRETTY red and yellow tulips that appeared with no assistance from me and made me really happy.
But then the tulips died, and the thing came back.
Seriously, any ideas? What is it??
See, the guy who lived in my house before me was a horticulturalist that worked at the IMA. So my lawn that was previously just grass now has this area in front of the house with random plants that pop up throughout the spring and summer and ostensibly need weeding and care and the like. Fantastic. I'm assuming it used to be beautiful. Seeing as how I have difficulty just keeping myself and the dogs alive and my neighbor procrastinates more than I do, we are obviously the perfect tenants for this setup. The original beauty of the lawn has now become more of a wild, untamed jungle beauty.
Most of the plants are pretty. And they bloom on their own each year with pretty orange or pink flowers. I like those plants. But then there are also green things with no flowers that grow around the pretty plants. In my world, no flowers = weeds. And THEN there's this patch of grass that I'm pretty sure is taller than my house. WTF is THAT?! Ugh.
So this weekend? I have scheduled the boy's assistance for Sunday. The thing? Yeah, I'm pulling it up. Anything green with no flowers in front of my house? Gone. The boy gets to use the big manly gas powered weed eater to mow through my back yard. He will also be the sounding board for, "Is this a weed?"
I know you're all jealous.
I just hope we don't hurt the tulips. Suggestions?
In my yard.
It's not a bush....it's more like a whole lot of individual plants all growing together in the same general area. But the individual plant itself is like a stalk with leaves.
Is it supposed to grow on its own? Or is it supposed to grow in a group like this monstrosity in my lawn? 'Cause the stalks in the middle of the grouping? They're dying from lack of sunlight. Seriously, WTF IS this? It's just...a thing. Last year But then the tulips died, and the thing came back.
Seriously, any ideas? What is it??
See, the guy who lived in my house before me was a horticulturalist that worked at the IMA. So my lawn that was previously just grass now has this area in front of the house with random plants that pop up throughout the spring and summer and ostensibly need weeding and care and the like. Fantastic. I'm assuming it used to be beautiful. Seeing as how I have difficulty just keeping myself and the dogs alive and my neighbor procrastinates more than I do, we are obviously the perfect tenants for this setup. The original beauty of the lawn has now become more of a wild, untamed jungle beauty.
Most of the plants are pretty. And they bloom on their own each year with pretty orange or pink flowers. I like those plants. But then there are also green things with no flowers that grow around the pretty plants. In my world, no flowers = weeds. And THEN there's this patch of grass that I'm pretty sure is taller than my house. WTF is THAT?! Ugh.
So this weekend? I have scheduled the boy's assistance for Sunday. The thing? Yeah, I'm pulling it up. Anything green with no flowers in front of my house? Gone. The boy gets to use the big manly gas powered weed eater to mow through my back yard. He will also be the sounding board for, "Is this a weed?"
I know you're all jealous.
I just hope we don't hurt the tulips. Suggestions?
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Green
I must admit, I took full advantage of my last few weeks of freedom in August. Ever since I returned from my family vacation,* between seeing friends, eating out with friends, going to concerts with friends and biking with friends (not to mention weddings and the like) my weeknights and weekends were pretty much packed full.** In fact, it was difficult to find a time that would work for me to return Blue to my parents. (He actually remains with me for now.)
Needless to say, lawn care has pretty much fallen to the wayside. In fact, the weeds have so encroached my front porch that there is only a narrow opening of about 6 inches that you can pass through to get into my house without being touched by something green.
I remember when lawn care was all about accomplishment. Yeah, that's done now.
In my defense, when I left for California, it was my neighbor's turn to mow the lawn. I left it pretty well controlled. I actually used the weed-eater the week before I departed. (I so rock.) When I returned (six days later) the lawn looked like a lawn that hadn't been mowed in about a two weeks. (The words "Man! What?? Was six days NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?!" might have been the first words out of my mouth when we arrived home from the airport.***)
Unfortunately, since I was so busy, I literally had no good time (when it wasn't raining) to get out and mow the lawn. In fact, it wasn't until ten days after I got home that the weather and my free time coincided enough for me to plan to mow. It was that day that my neighbor decided to pull his weight and I got home to a freshly mowed lawn.**** Neighbor is a boy, did I mention that? My sense of fairness is strained when I think about how he is a boy and I am a girl and I am doing the bulk of the yardwork for a house that we share.*****
And then it was left for twelve more days. I am not proud of this fact, but my schedule...it was full. So on Tuesday, I decided that since I could no longer see the dogs when they went outside, I must do what needs to be done. Sigh. First things first - must retreive mower that hasn't been used in over a month.
Ummmmm.... I don't know where Mr. Neighbor keeps his power mower, but it certainly isn't in the garage where I keep my puny, eco-friendly mower. Because the garage door? Was booby trapped by spider webs. Big ones. Big spider webs that had spiders in them, one of which caught his lunch as I was stopped simultaneously wondering how I was going to proceed and grateful that I had noticed the webs before walking right into them.
Easy enough - I had just seen Mr. Neighbor. I will go to him, play the girl card, and hope that he will dispose of said spiderwebs.****** Hmmmm....Mr. Neighbor isn't home. Okay. I can do this. Will get stick. Long stick. Maybe long branch instead. Done.
People, there was RESISTANCE before those webs broke. Seriously!! Resistance like they were made of teeny tiny steel cables! I have mutant spiders that are now planning to feast on my eyeballs in retaliation for destroying their home. EEEEEEK!
While shrieking, I did manage to get the mower out. I also pushed it in front of me all the way to the front lawn in order to kill any vengeful spiders who may have been planning their immediate attack. Ha ha spiders! Eat my eco-friendly blades!!
So now there's a nice little path cut through from my garage to my front lawn. Classy.
So I mowed. And I sweated. And I now have 13 bug bites on my legs. And the entire time I was wondering where on EARTH all this responsibility in my life came from? I mean, I didn't inadvertently request it, did I? But it got done. Of course, I was a panting, sweaty, disgusting mess when my other neighbor (two doors down) came up impeccably dressed and asked me if I would mind mowing HIS lawn.
Now, I know that I'm a tough grrrl and all that, but I'm using this mower. And even on a tiny lawn, it's not like I make it look effortless. It generally takes between 30 - 45 minutes to get my lawn done,******* and that doesn't include the time taken to curse at random sticks that abruptly stop my progress on a regular basis.********
So I laughed and declined, but offered him the use of my mower.
Folks, he wasn't kidding. (!!!)
"Oh honey, I don't DO yard work."
Yeah. I don't either.
"But I'll pay you!"
Woah. Did NOT see that coming.
I politely declined again and told him that basically there wasn't enough money in the world...even though I'm a poor starving student. But that anytime he wanted to borrow my mower! Or have his roommate borrow my mower! (I subsequently found out that his roommate doesn't do yard work either) He was more than welcome.
And then I totally referred him to my procrastinating neighbor with a power mower. Wonder how that will work out? As of today, his lawn still isn't mowed. My lawn looks better than his lawn. Nah nah nah nah nah!
*PS. Don't see Watchmen
**Why yes, I was trying to overdose on friends before school started so that perhaps I wouldn't miss them as much when I was in hell.
***The boy's response was, "Wow. Is that what you sound like when I put things off too?" The answer is "indubitably."
****Coincidentally also the day I stopped hating him.
*****Fine. I'm not a feminist. I mean, I can do anything I want to do, and anything a man can do, but I believe that there are some things that girls should be able to pass off if there is an able bodied man (with a power mower!!!) around, and yard work is one of them. I'll handle getting the discounts at the video game store. Just hand me that push-up bra over there.
******Note to self. This process? Not elective. Needs to be repeated each year. Purchase bug bombs in bulk.
*******You can be guaranteed that it doesn't matter how long it takes, the boy will show up the moment I've put the mower away. I'm not convinced he's not spying on me to find the opportune time to arrive at casa de Emily.
********I'm pretty sure I curse out loud, too. I have my iPod in, so I can't be sure, but I have noticed that the moms take all their kids indoors when they see me lugging out my mower.
Needless to say, lawn care has pretty much fallen to the wayside. In fact, the weeds have so encroached my front porch that there is only a narrow opening of about 6 inches that you can pass through to get into my house without being touched by something green.
I remember when lawn care was all about accomplishment. Yeah, that's done now.
In my defense, when I left for California, it was my neighbor's turn to mow the lawn. I left it pretty well controlled. I actually used the weed-eater the week before I departed. (I so rock.) When I returned (six days later) the lawn looked like a lawn that hadn't been mowed in about a two weeks. (The words "Man! What?? Was six days NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?!" might have been the first words out of my mouth when we arrived home from the airport.***)
Unfortunately, since I was so busy, I literally had no good time (when it wasn't raining) to get out and mow the lawn. In fact, it wasn't until ten days after I got home that the weather and my free time coincided enough for me to plan to mow. It was that day that my neighbor decided to pull his weight and I got home to a freshly mowed lawn.**** Neighbor is a boy, did I mention that? My sense of fairness is strained when I think about how he is a boy and I am a girl and I am doing the bulk of the yardwork for a house that we share.*****
And then it was left for twelve more days. I am not proud of this fact, but my schedule...it was full. So on Tuesday, I decided that since I could no longer see the dogs when they went outside, I must do what needs to be done. Sigh. First things first - must retreive mower that hasn't been used in over a month.
Ummmmm.... I don't know where Mr. Neighbor keeps his power mower, but it certainly isn't in the garage where I keep my puny, eco-friendly mower. Because the garage door? Was booby trapped by spider webs. Big ones. Big spider webs that had spiders in them, one of which caught his lunch as I was stopped simultaneously wondering how I was going to proceed and grateful that I had noticed the webs before walking right into them.
Easy enough - I had just seen Mr. Neighbor. I will go to him, play the girl card, and hope that he will dispose of said spiderwebs.****** Hmmmm....Mr. Neighbor isn't home. Okay. I can do this. Will get stick. Long stick. Maybe long branch instead. Done.
People, there was RESISTANCE before those webs broke. Seriously!! Resistance like they were made of teeny tiny steel cables! I have mutant spiders that are now planning to feast on my eyeballs in retaliation for destroying their home. EEEEEEK!
While shrieking, I did manage to get the mower out. I also pushed it in front of me all the way to the front lawn in order to kill any vengeful spiders who may have been planning their immediate attack. Ha ha spiders! Eat my eco-friendly blades!!
So now there's a nice little path cut through from my garage to my front lawn. Classy.
So I mowed. And I sweated. And I now have 13 bug bites on my legs. And the entire time I was wondering where on EARTH all this responsibility in my life came from? I mean, I didn't inadvertently request it, did I? But it got done. Of course, I was a panting, sweaty, disgusting mess when my other neighbor (two doors down) came up impeccably dressed and asked me if I would mind mowing HIS lawn.
Now, I know that I'm a tough grrrl and all that, but I'm using this mower. And even on a tiny lawn, it's not like I make it look effortless. It generally takes between 30 - 45 minutes to get my lawn done,******* and that doesn't include the time taken to curse at random sticks that abruptly stop my progress on a regular basis.********
So I laughed and declined, but offered him the use of my mower.
Folks, he wasn't kidding. (!!!)
"Oh honey, I don't DO yard work."
Yeah. I don't either.
"But I'll pay you!"
Woah. Did NOT see that coming.
I politely declined again and told him that basically there wasn't enough money in the world...even though I'm a poor starving student. But that anytime he wanted to borrow my mower! Or have his roommate borrow my mower! (I subsequently found out that his roommate doesn't do yard work either) He was more than welcome.
And then I totally referred him to my procrastinating neighbor with a power mower. Wonder how that will work out? As of today, his lawn still isn't mowed. My lawn looks better than his lawn. Nah nah nah nah nah!
*PS. Don't see Watchmen
**Why yes, I was trying to overdose on friends before school started so that perhaps I wouldn't miss them as much when I was in hell.
***The boy's response was, "Wow. Is that what you sound like when I put things off too?" The answer is "indubitably."
****Coincidentally also the day I stopped hating him.
*****Fine. I'm not a feminist. I mean, I can do anything I want to do, and anything a man can do, but I believe that there are some things that girls should be able to pass off if there is an able bodied man (with a power mower!!!) around, and yard work is one of them. I'll handle getting the discounts at the video game store. Just hand me that push-up bra over there.
******Note to self. This process? Not elective. Needs to be repeated each year. Purchase bug bombs in bulk.
*******You can be guaranteed that it doesn't matter how long it takes, the boy will show up the moment I've put the mower away. I'm not convinced he's not spying on me to find the opportune time to arrive at casa de Emily.
********I'm pretty sure I curse out loud, too. I have my iPod in, so I can't be sure, but I have noticed that the moms take all their kids indoors when they see me lugging out my mower.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Dependency
I know - you thought I had abandoned you, right? Fear not. I have not abandoned you, nor have I abandoned this blog. I have about five posts sitting in drafts right now that I can't seem to fully flesh out into something that can see the light of day*, but I'm working on it - promise.
So in the meantime, I thought I would share a little rant with you. Just a tiny one because I miraculously woke up in a fantastic mood this morning. Miraculous because today begins school again, in honor of which I have shifted my work hours from 8-5 to 7-4.
In case you can't do the math, that means I have to get up a whole hour earlier than usual. And we all know how much I love mornings.**
So today begins classes. It is Wednesday, so I should have o-chem lecture followed by o-chem lab. Yesterday I found out that I did not have lab until next week. That was a happy moment. But for the last two weeks, I have been stalking the o-chem website for some information on the course schedule, syllabus, notes....anything. At first it was just casual curiosity. I mean, I would rather be prepared than caught without notes on day one. But as the students invaded the chat room on said website, some of whom are taking o-chem for the second or third time, and planned a study group that begins after the first class I began to get nervous. I mean, don't get me wrong...I have faith in my intelligence. But I'm also not immune to mass hysteria. The reputation for o-chem preceeds the class. It's tough. And if everyone else is already freaking out....well....
So I look for a syllabus. Some notes. A schedule. Something to prepare me for the first day of class.
And it appears....today. At 1:06pm to be exact. For a class that begins at 6:00pm.
And these lecture notes...they're not small documents. I would say they average 40 pages with the largest being 56 pages. Fifty-six pages! And the first lecture dives right into the material. Oh, and the syllabus suggests that to succeed in class, I should read the material ahead of time.
Okay. I'll do that in the, um....hour I have before class. Thanks Mr. Professor, sir!
Now, I realize that I am not a traditional student. I truly do. And I realize most full time students might have time between lunch and their evening class to do the required reading. But I still think that this timeframe is a little short. I mean, I believe that professors begin their school year before the students, right? And I know they're busy people, but part of preparing for their classes is informing the students of what's going on in that class, right? I mean, my first tuition bill was due the 18th... Is it too much to ask that when I pay tuition I have access to my course information?
I'm just so frustrated. I could go on and on.
To his credit, now that one thing is available, everything for the class is available. So I can work ahead to my heart's content. But I just feel like this weekend I will be playing catch up doing the reading for the material that we will cover tonight, instead of being able to read ahead. Again with the non-traditional student, but with classes M-Th evenings, I only have so many hours in which to study.
I guess I should read instead of blog, huh? Okay okay, point taken. Any chance one of you is an organic chem tutor on the side?
*Must work on the snark. The snark, it is heavy in those drafts.
**Personally, I think the iced vanilla latte did a lot for my mood this morning. And I may have stumbled in at 7:10am. Sigh. I'll aim for better tomorrow. I have all semester to perfect the early work arrival.
So in the meantime, I thought I would share a little rant with you. Just a tiny one because I miraculously woke up in a fantastic mood this morning. Miraculous because today begins school again, in honor of which I have shifted my work hours from 8-5 to 7-4.
In case you can't do the math, that means I have to get up a whole hour earlier than usual. And we all know how much I love mornings.**
So today begins classes. It is Wednesday, so I should have o-chem lecture followed by o-chem lab. Yesterday I found out that I did not have lab until next week. That was a happy moment. But for the last two weeks, I have been stalking the o-chem website for some information on the course schedule, syllabus, notes....anything. At first it was just casual curiosity. I mean, I would rather be prepared than caught without notes on day one. But as the students invaded the chat room on said website, some of whom are taking o-chem for the second or third time, and planned a study group that begins after the first class I began to get nervous. I mean, don't get me wrong...I have faith in my intelligence. But I'm also not immune to mass hysteria. The reputation for o-chem preceeds the class. It's tough. And if everyone else is already freaking out....well....
So I look for a syllabus. Some notes. A schedule. Something to prepare me for the first day of class.
And it appears....today. At 1:06pm to be exact. For a class that begins at 6:00pm.
And these lecture notes...they're not small documents. I would say they average 40 pages with the largest being 56 pages. Fifty-six pages! And the first lecture dives right into the material. Oh, and the syllabus suggests that to succeed in class, I should read the material ahead of time.
Okay. I'll do that in the, um....hour I have before class. Thanks Mr. Professor, sir!
Now, I realize that I am not a traditional student. I truly do. And I realize most full time students might have time between lunch and their evening class to do the required reading. But I still think that this timeframe is a little short. I mean, I believe that professors begin their school year before the students, right? And I know they're busy people, but part of preparing for their classes is informing the students of what's going on in that class, right? I mean, my first tuition bill was due the 18th... Is it too much to ask that when I pay tuition I have access to my course information?
I'm just so frustrated. I could go on and on.
To his credit, now that one thing is available, everything for the class is available. So I can work ahead to my heart's content. But I just feel like this weekend I will be playing catch up doing the reading for the material that we will cover tonight, instead of being able to read ahead. Again with the non-traditional student, but with classes M-Th evenings, I only have so many hours in which to study.
I guess I should read instead of blog, huh? Okay okay, point taken. Any chance one of you is an organic chem tutor on the side?
*Must work on the snark. The snark, it is heavy in those drafts.
**Personally, I think the iced vanilla latte did a lot for my mood this morning. And I may have stumbled in at 7:10am. Sigh. I'll aim for better tomorrow. I have all semester to perfect the early work arrival.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Like the Back of my Hand
Once upon a time my family went to a convention and I witnessed a husband bring his wife a plate from the buffet, not knowing that she had already gone up to get one of her own.
The plates were identical.
I thought that was so romantic. They had been together for so long and he knew her so well. I decided then and there that I wanted that someday. Someday my best friend will know me and understand me so well, it will be like we're one. (I was such a girl.) Still, I despaired of that ever happening. For all of my routine and resistance to change, and for all of my bluntness and wearing my heart on my sleeve, I tend to think of myself as very complex and difficult to predict. I'm not really sure why. I know the reality, but I guess every woman would rather think of herself as an enigma - a puzzle that her significant other will never really figure out.
Back when the boy and I had money (I call that time BS....before school) we went to dinner at a smallish restaurant near our apartment. It was a Sunday evening, and there weren't many patrons present besides us. In an effort to increase traffic in a restaurant that was surrounded by several other more well-known options, the restaurant had a promotional event each night that week. Completely unaware, the boy and I wandered in on the night there was a magician present.
We ordered and watched as the magician spoke to the few other occupied tables. He was funny and engaging and had the usual repitoire of rope tricks, balloon tricks, and coin tricks. When he got to our table, he asked us if we wanted to help him out with a card trick. Amused, we agreed.
The idea was that I would get to pick a card out of the deck, and put it into a sealed envelope. The magician would then sign a second sealed envelope, and magically my card would appear in that envelope instead. As he walked away to get a second envelope for himself, I was left with the task of picking a card. I perused the deck, picked my card, sat satisfied for about 10 seconds before exclaiming "Oh! I know!" and returning the first card in favor of a second. I then looked at the boy and said in flirtatiously sing-song voice, "I'll bet you can't guess what card I chose"
With my batting eyes and suggestive grin, I figured it wouldn't be difficult for the boy to guess that I had chosen the Queen of Hearts. I'm not generally good at "subtle" and this was an occasion where I was doing my best to be obvious. Still, I was miffed at his air of satisfaction after he guessed correctly. His smug smile suggested that he would have guessed correctly even without my play-acting. So I said, "Okay hotshot, but I'll bet you can't guess which card I initially chose and then discarded."
I sat back, satisfied that he had a 1 in 51 chance of being correct and the odds were completely in my favor. He concentrated for a moment, and despite my prodding, wouldn't be rushed in his guess. Finally, his face cleared. I would be lying if I said I didn't almost choke on my appetizer when he said, "The Ace of Spades."
Now, I know that I chose that card because of Brett Maverick. But WTF? A love of movies is not something that the boy and I share. How on earth did he guess THAT? I sat in stunned silence for a moment and then blurted, "Get out of my HEAD!"
The boy was insufferably proud of himself. Faced with an example of almost exactly what I had wished for, I was flabbergasted. Holy cow! This MUST be the guy for me! He knows me to the depths of my very SOUL! How else could he have possibly guessed which card I pulled? I mean, there are 52 cards in the deck and he picked correctly! I am a complex riddle which he has solved!! He must have so many insights into my personality! He knows me so well. We are going to be together forever and we will be like one. Wow. I am so very moved.
I finally mustered up the courage to ask him how he knew which card I had originally chosen.
"Easy. It's the prettiest one. You're attracted to shiny pretty things. Sort of like a fish."
Apparently no deep insights are needed. I like shiny pretty things. There's no international woman of mystery here - I am like a fish. I was busy comparing myself to the riddle of the sphinx when I should have been looking at a smallmouth bass. Hmmm....
Then I have to wonder, am I dating him because he's a good fisherman, or because he's shiny and pretty?
After all of that, I wasn't at all surprised to have the magician produce my card from the signed envelope. I kept both the card and the signed envelope to remind me that no deep insights are needed here.... just a lot of patience and a little good luck.
The plates were identical.
I thought that was so romantic. They had been together for so long and he knew her so well. I decided then and there that I wanted that someday. Someday my best friend will know me and understand me so well, it will be like we're one. (I was such a girl.) Still, I despaired of that ever happening. For all of my routine and resistance to change, and for all of my bluntness and wearing my heart on my sleeve, I tend to think of myself as very complex and difficult to predict. I'm not really sure why. I know the reality, but I guess every woman would rather think of herself as an enigma - a puzzle that her significant other will never really figure out.
Back when the boy and I had money (I call that time BS....before school) we went to dinner at a smallish restaurant near our apartment. It was a Sunday evening, and there weren't many patrons present besides us. In an effort to increase traffic in a restaurant that was surrounded by several other more well-known options, the restaurant had a promotional event each night that week. Completely unaware, the boy and I wandered in on the night there was a magician present.
We ordered and watched as the magician spoke to the few other occupied tables. He was funny and engaging and had the usual repitoire of rope tricks, balloon tricks, and coin tricks. When he got to our table, he asked us if we wanted to help him out with a card trick. Amused, we agreed.
The idea was that I would get to pick a card out of the deck, and put it into a sealed envelope. The magician would then sign a second sealed envelope, and magically my card would appear in that envelope instead. As he walked away to get a second envelope for himself, I was left with the task of picking a card. I perused the deck, picked my card, sat satisfied for about 10 seconds before exclaiming "Oh! I know!" and returning the first card in favor of a second. I then looked at the boy and said in flirtatiously sing-song voice, "I'll bet you can't guess what card I chose"
With my batting eyes and suggestive grin, I figured it wouldn't be difficult for the boy to guess that I had chosen the Queen of Hearts. I'm not generally good at "subtle" and this was an occasion where I was doing my best to be obvious. Still, I was miffed at his air of satisfaction after he guessed correctly. His smug smile suggested that he would have guessed correctly even without my play-acting. So I said, "Okay hotshot, but I'll bet you can't guess which card I initially chose and then discarded."
I sat back, satisfied that he had a 1 in 51 chance of being correct and the odds were completely in my favor. He concentrated for a moment, and despite my prodding, wouldn't be rushed in his guess. Finally, his face cleared. I would be lying if I said I didn't almost choke on my appetizer when he said, "The Ace of Spades."
Now, I know that I chose that card because of Brett Maverick. But WTF? A love of movies is not something that the boy and I share. How on earth did he guess THAT? I sat in stunned silence for a moment and then blurted, "Get out of my HEAD!"
The boy was insufferably proud of himself. Faced with an example of almost exactly what I had wished for, I was flabbergasted. Holy cow! This MUST be the guy for me! He knows me to the depths of my very SOUL! How else could he have possibly guessed which card I pulled? I mean, there are 52 cards in the deck and he picked correctly! I am a complex riddle which he has solved!! He must have so many insights into my personality! He knows me so well. We are going to be together forever and we will be like one. Wow. I am so very moved.
I finally mustered up the courage to ask him how he knew which card I had originally chosen.
"Easy. It's the prettiest one. You're attracted to shiny pretty things. Sort of like a fish."
Apparently no deep insights are needed. I like shiny pretty things. There's no international woman of mystery here - I am like a fish. I was busy comparing myself to the riddle of the sphinx when I should have been looking at a smallmouth bass. Hmmm....
Then I have to wonder, am I dating him because he's a good fisherman, or because he's shiny and pretty?
After all of that, I wasn't at all surprised to have the magician produce my card from the signed envelope. I kept both the card and the signed envelope to remind me that no deep insights are needed here.... just a lot of patience and a little good luck.
Friday, August 14, 2009
A Change of Heart
I have had a two-dog household again since July 25th, and I am about done. It's not that I don't love Blue, it's just that Casey and I had settled into our routine and we were doing just fine. It's a difficult adjustment to make. Before, the two dog house was the norm. I didn't know how peaceful things could be with only one dog. Now, it's hard to forget.
Not to mention that I had forgotten that Blue slobbers all over everything and farts all. the. time. Oh, and he'll walk all over you and sit right on top of you if you happen to be in the spot on the couch that he has designated as his. And he steals Casey's treats on a regular basis. Doesn't matter how handsome he is, he's your typical boy, and I have gotten used to an all-female household.
So when making arrangements to return him to my parents' house, I was surprised to hear my father say that I could keep Blue after I asked him whether or not he missed having a dog around. That their house really doesn't need any animals at all. Not even the two cats my parents currently live with.
I cautiously said, "Dad, if you don't WANT Blue, I don't want to force him on you. He can stay here, no problem." While inside I was pleading, "no, no! Dear God, NO!!"
My father responded equally as cautiously. "If you WANT to keep him, that's okay."
I considered for a moment. "Dad, he can stay. It's no problem. He's already here and I don't want to put you out at all."
A sigh. "No, it's just that I feel we're being cruel. You know, here he gets to be outside all the time, he gets to lay on the couch all day..."
"...while here he's in a crate all day while I'm at work. I know. But dad, he's a dog. He doesn't understand that. All he knows is that when he's with Emily, this is how it is. It's not better or worse than at your house. It just is. Dogs live in the moment."
"I'll make you a deal. I'll take Blue if you take Dorian."
A little background on Dorian. My parents already had one cat, Indy*, when my brother brought home another cat from college. That cat, unfortunately, perished due to an unfortunate incident after only a short time at my parent's house. But my mother was convinced that Indy was "lonely" without a companion.** So off to the Humane Society they went. And brought home Dorian. Who my brother is now convinced was drugged when they met him.
Since then, Dorian has gotten into the trash, meowed so loudly as to wake my parents, taught Indy that it was okay to meow at all hours to get what he wants, proceeded to overeat (and regurgitate) regularly, and attacks the pit bulls that visit at every opportunity. Even without claws.
Suffice to say that no one really likes Dorian. But since all creatures need love (except for satan-dog) and because of a little pressure from their animal-minded daughter, Dorian stays.
Struggling not to laugh, I responded, "What happened now?"
"Oh, I plugged in your mother's speaker for the TV, and Dorian immediately started chewing on the wires. So I gave him a little kick. And then I came back downstairs later and he had pooped on my seat!"
Having some experience with a vindictive cat before, I am failing miserably at containing my laughter at this point.
"I'm sorry dad, but Laney is an only cat. No other cats would survive in my house."
"Oh that's okay. If she kills him, just dig a little hole out back and dump him in it."
"DAD!!"
None of this diverted me from the worry that perhaps I was shoving Blue into an unwelcome household. Until I spoke to my mother.
"Okay, so we'll meet you to pick up Blue-Blue on Sunday, right?"
"Perfect."
"And the doctors told me that I need to walk as much as possible to avoid blood clots after surgery. So it will be good to have him back because I am going to walk with him in the mornings. Hopefully it won't be as hot as it has been because you know he can't stand the heat. Have you trimmed his nails? Does he miss us?"
And then I realized that it doesn't really matter unless the entire household has a change of heart. As long as Blue is still my mom's baby, he's welcome in their house.
Dorian, on the other hand....
*aka "Super Cat," "Best Cat Ever," and "Cat that thinks he's a dog."
**And I believe, under the assumption that all cats were as fantastic as Indy.
Not to mention that I had forgotten that Blue slobbers all over everything and farts all. the. time. Oh, and he'll walk all over you and sit right on top of you if you happen to be in the spot on the couch that he has designated as his. And he steals Casey's treats on a regular basis. Doesn't matter how handsome he is, he's your typical boy, and I have gotten used to an all-female household.
So when making arrangements to return him to my parents' house, I was surprised to hear my father say that I could keep Blue after I asked him whether or not he missed having a dog around. That their house really doesn't need any animals at all. Not even the two cats my parents currently live with.
I cautiously said, "Dad, if you don't WANT Blue, I don't want to force him on you. He can stay here, no problem." While inside I was pleading, "no, no! Dear God, NO!!"
My father responded equally as cautiously. "If you WANT to keep him, that's okay."
I considered for a moment. "Dad, he can stay. It's no problem. He's already here and I don't want to put you out at all."
A sigh. "No, it's just that I feel we're being cruel. You know, here he gets to be outside all the time, he gets to lay on the couch all day..."
"...while here he's in a crate all day while I'm at work. I know. But dad, he's a dog. He doesn't understand that. All he knows is that when he's with Emily, this is how it is. It's not better or worse than at your house. It just is. Dogs live in the moment."
"I'll make you a deal. I'll take Blue if you take Dorian."
A little background on Dorian. My parents already had one cat, Indy*, when my brother brought home another cat from college. That cat, unfortunately, perished due to an unfortunate incident after only a short time at my parent's house. But my mother was convinced that Indy was "lonely" without a companion.** So off to the Humane Society they went. And brought home Dorian. Who my brother is now convinced was drugged when they met him.
Since then, Dorian has gotten into the trash, meowed so loudly as to wake my parents, taught Indy that it was okay to meow at all hours to get what he wants, proceeded to overeat (and regurgitate) regularly, and attacks the pit bulls that visit at every opportunity. Even without claws.
Suffice to say that no one really likes Dorian. But since all creatures need love (except for satan-dog) and because of a little pressure from their animal-minded daughter, Dorian stays.
Struggling not to laugh, I responded, "What happened now?"
"Oh, I plugged in your mother's speaker for the TV, and Dorian immediately started chewing on the wires. So I gave him a little kick. And then I came back downstairs later and he had pooped on my seat!"
Having some experience with a vindictive cat before, I am failing miserably at containing my laughter at this point.
"I'm sorry dad, but Laney is an only cat. No other cats would survive in my house."
"Oh that's okay. If she kills him, just dig a little hole out back and dump him in it."
"DAD!!"
None of this diverted me from the worry that perhaps I was shoving Blue into an unwelcome household. Until I spoke to my mother.
"Okay, so we'll meet you to pick up Blue-Blue on Sunday, right?"
"Perfect."
"And the doctors told me that I need to walk as much as possible to avoid blood clots after surgery. So it will be good to have him back because I am going to walk with him in the mornings. Hopefully it won't be as hot as it has been because you know he can't stand the heat. Have you trimmed his nails? Does he miss us?"
And then I realized that it doesn't really matter unless the entire household has a change of heart. As long as Blue is still my mom's baby, he's welcome in their house.
Dorian, on the other hand....
*aka "Super Cat," "Best Cat Ever," and "Cat that thinks he's a dog."
**And I believe, under the assumption that all cats were as fantastic as Indy.
Monday, August 10, 2009
All Dogs go to Heaven
So, there's this dog....
Side note: It's gotten to the point where the boy hears a story begin that way and literally shudders. It's not that I pressure him to adopt another dog, or that I even consider adopting another dog (good GOD no,) it's just that he has to hear me talk about another "cutest dog ever" and "greatest story" and lament the fact that I can't save them all (though lord knows I try)...and he's a guy. Apparently he's better at the whole "not getting attached" thing.
So, back to the dog. See, there's this dog. More specifically, there's
this five week old puppy. More specifically, there's this five week old pit bull puppy that was abused. Abused to the point where she had to have her left eye removed.
A fact that makes me want to track down her abuser with a baseball bat and beat them until THEIR left eye has to be removed.
But I digress.
I met her the day after surgery. When she had wiggled out of her little e-collar and the bandage that had been placed across her eye had been bumped askew. She looked like a little pirate.
We found a smaller e-collar that fit her better, removed the bandage from her eye (she really didn't seem cool with the whole bandage-on-her-head thing) and instead taped up her paw so that she couldn't scratch at her stitches.
Her tail was wagging the entire time we were doing this. And she was alterntately attempting to lick my fingers and bite them.
I was in love. And now I must find her a hand-picked home. I mean, she can't just go to anyone. (ahem, Alisa, ahem.)
I took the boy to meet her on Sunday. Given the size of her stomach, I'm going to say she's recovering just fine. Eating and recovering. Recovering and eating. She's a regular little roly poly. The office manager at the clinic wants to call her Winky. Well, she did want to call her winky. Until I explained that winky was also slang for penis. (True story.) So we settled on Wink.
So, internets - meet Wink. Help me find her a home. She'll be a great dog for someone with a big heart. And she's got the bonus of being able to wear the coolest costume ever for Halloween. (Complete with eye patch.)
Side note: It's gotten to the point where the boy hears a story begin that way and literally shudders. It's not that I pressure him to adopt another dog, or that I even consider adopting another dog (good GOD no,) it's just that he has to hear me talk about another "cutest dog ever" and "greatest story" and lament the fact that I can't save them all (though lord knows I try)...and he's a guy. Apparently he's better at the whole "not getting attached" thing.
So, back to the dog. See, there's this dog. More specifically, there's
this five week old puppy. More specifically, there's this five week old pit bull puppy that was abused. Abused to the point where she had to have her left eye removed.A fact that makes me want to track down her abuser with a baseball bat and beat them until THEIR left eye has to be removed.
But I digress.
I met her the day after surgery. When she had wiggled out of her little e-collar and the bandage that had been placed across her eye had been bumped askew. She looked like a little pirate.
We found a smaller e-collar that fit her better, removed the bandage from her eye (she really didn't seem cool with the whole bandage-on-her-head thing) and instead taped up her paw so that she couldn't scratch at her stitches.
Her tail was wagging the entire time we were doing this. And she was alterntately attempting to lick my fingers and bite them.
I was in love. And now I must find her a hand-picked home. I mean, she can't just go to anyone. (ahem, Alisa, ahem.)
I took the boy to meet her on Sunday. Given the size of her stomach, I'm going to say she's recovering just fine. Eating and recovering. Recovering and eating. She's a regular little roly poly. The office manager at the clinic wants to call her Winky. Well, she did want to call her winky. Until I explained that winky was also slang for penis. (True story.) So we settled on Wink.
So, internets - meet Wink. Help me find her a home. She'll be a great dog for someone with a big heart. And she's got the bonus of being able to wear the coolest costume ever for Halloween. (Complete with eye patch.)
Thursday, August 06, 2009
And lo, there were movies
Last week the boy and I went to visit my family in California.
We had a ball.
It was the perfect mix of watching movies and chilling out and doing touristy things. Perfect. Absolutely.
A while ago I blogged that my basic nature is to be selfish, and it was only a childhood trauma that makes me go against that nature. Now? I'm not so sure. I spent almost six full days with my cousin who is one of the most selfless, giving, kind-hearted people I've ever met. I'm pretty sure she would give her left arm to someone she loved with no questions asked - and they wouldn't even need a good reason to need it. I know I'm not that giving, but if that's her basic nature, maybe it runs in the family? Hopefully? At least it gives me something to aim for.
Her husband? Well, he kept insinuating that I wouldn't like him. But anyone who will patiently answer my endless litany of questions about comic book superheroes and never once insinuate that I'm an idiot...well, he gets thumbs up from me. (I have now learned that Marvel comics = good. DC Comics = not as good. And the Hulk? He's sort of good AND bad. And Superman kind of sucks. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?)
There are several aspects of this vacation that I want to cover, so I'll take it in pieces. The first one is movies. Seeing as how the boy and I are on a tightly controlled budget (ie: "No Money") we haven't been to the movie theater in ages, and we haven't purchased a DVD since lord-knows-when, so we arrived in California starving for new movies in a way that we didn't even know we were starving. When we arrived at my cousin's place, it was like heaven. They are total movie buffs and owned every movie we wanted to see, plus some we didn't know we wanted to see (yet.) Needless to say, we watched some movies. (Bless my family for sitting through movies they had already seen and through my endless questions about "What happens next?" or "Does he die?!")
Some highlights? (NOTE: If you haven't seen the movies noted, there are some minor spoilers. Don't blame me if you want to see these old movies that are already available on DVD, haven't gotten around to it, and yet choose to continue reading.)
The Incredible Hulk with Ed Norton was good. I would rate it as an "I'm glad I watched it, but probably won't own it." I will say, however, that it has one of the best fight scenes I've ever seen. Ever. Seriously. I know you might have the impression that I'm a girly girl (can't imagine why you would think that...) but I do love me some things that are definitely in the "boy" range. A fight scene where Hulk fights Abomination and pulls out his arm bone and stabs him with it would fall into that category. One might say I was impressed with that scene. Perhaps enough to continue talking about it all weekend long. Seriously. He pulls out Abomination's arm bone and then STABS HIM WITH IT. It was so cool.
Taken was another good one. It's relatively new, so I won't spoil anything. I'll just say, as my cousin so succintly put it, "You don't fuck with a Jedi master." I'll put this one on the "I'm glad I watched it and I might own it someday" list. However, it's all about the suspense, and that's one thing that I can't handle. At all. Kudos to my family for not duct taping my mouth shut.
Iron Man was fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. I'll put that on my "Must own SOON" list. I seriously can't say enough about it. It's 126 minutes long but felt like it was no longer than an hour. It FLEW by. Flew. I recommend you go see it now if you haven't. Right now. Go on. This blog can wait. I'm not even going to spoil it for you except to say that the creepy guy is the bad guy. You know, the one who's always the bad guy? (and even when he's not, he's still creepy.)
Which brings me to Watchmen. This one is on my "Wish I could get those hours of my life back" list. But my mom once told me that if I can't say something nice, then I shouldn't say anything at all. So I won't say anything at all. Except maybe to say that it might have been over my head, because I just didn't get it. Oh, and there's a bright blue penis that's pretty distracting in some scenes. Consider yourself warned.
There were other movies also, but I would hate for you to think that we spent the entire 6 days sitting on the couch. Because that would be wrong. Sometimes I sat on the floor :-)
Seriously, we did other things too, and I'll get to those (with pictures) as soon as I can find the motivation. As alluded to previously, we saw redwoods. And we took pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. I'll share soon.
We had a ball.
It was the perfect mix of watching movies and chilling out and doing touristy things. Perfect. Absolutely.
A while ago I blogged that my basic nature is to be selfish, and it was only a childhood trauma that makes me go against that nature. Now? I'm not so sure. I spent almost six full days with my cousin who is one of the most selfless, giving, kind-hearted people I've ever met. I'm pretty sure she would give her left arm to someone she loved with no questions asked - and they wouldn't even need a good reason to need it. I know I'm not that giving, but if that's her basic nature, maybe it runs in the family? Hopefully? At least it gives me something to aim for.
Her husband? Well, he kept insinuating that I wouldn't like him. But anyone who will patiently answer my endless litany of questions about comic book superheroes and never once insinuate that I'm an idiot...well, he gets thumbs up from me. (I have now learned that Marvel comics = good. DC Comics = not as good. And the Hulk? He's sort of good AND bad. And Superman kind of sucks. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?)
There are several aspects of this vacation that I want to cover, so I'll take it in pieces. The first one is movies. Seeing as how the boy and I are on a tightly controlled budget (ie: "No Money") we haven't been to the movie theater in ages, and we haven't purchased a DVD since lord-knows-when, so we arrived in California starving for new movies in a way that we didn't even know we were starving. When we arrived at my cousin's place, it was like heaven. They are total movie buffs and owned every movie we wanted to see, plus some we didn't know we wanted to see (yet.) Needless to say, we watched some movies. (Bless my family for sitting through movies they had already seen and through my endless questions about "What happens next?" or "Does he die?!")
Some highlights? (NOTE: If you haven't seen the movies noted, there are some minor spoilers. Don't blame me if you want to see these old movies that are already available on DVD, haven't gotten around to it, and yet choose to continue reading.)
The Incredible Hulk with Ed Norton was good. I would rate it as an "I'm glad I watched it, but probably won't own it." I will say, however, that it has one of the best fight scenes I've ever seen. Ever. Seriously. I know you might have the impression that I'm a girly girl (can't imagine why you would think that...) but I do love me some things that are definitely in the "boy" range. A fight scene where Hulk fights Abomination and pulls out his arm bone and stabs him with it would fall into that category. One might say I was impressed with that scene. Perhaps enough to continue talking about it all weekend long. Seriously. He pulls out Abomination's arm bone and then STABS HIM WITH IT. It was so cool.
Taken was another good one. It's relatively new, so I won't spoil anything. I'll just say, as my cousin so succintly put it, "You don't fuck with a Jedi master." I'll put this one on the "I'm glad I watched it and I might own it someday" list. However, it's all about the suspense, and that's one thing that I can't handle. At all. Kudos to my family for not duct taping my mouth shut.
Iron Man was fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. I'll put that on my "Must own SOON" list. I seriously can't say enough about it. It's 126 minutes long but felt like it was no longer than an hour. It FLEW by. Flew. I recommend you go see it now if you haven't. Right now. Go on. This blog can wait. I'm not even going to spoil it for you except to say that the creepy guy is the bad guy. You know, the one who's always the bad guy? (and even when he's not, he's still creepy.)
Which brings me to Watchmen. This one is on my "Wish I could get those hours of my life back" list. But my mom once told me that if I can't say something nice, then I shouldn't say anything at all. So I won't say anything at all. Except maybe to say that it might have been over my head, because I just didn't get it. Oh, and there's a bright blue penis that's pretty distracting in some scenes. Consider yourself warned.
There were other movies also, but I would hate for you to think that we spent the entire 6 days sitting on the couch. Because that would be wrong. Sometimes I sat on the floor :-)
Seriously, we did other things too, and I'll get to those (with pictures) as soon as I can find the motivation. As alluded to previously, we saw redwoods. And we took pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. I'll share soon.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Okay...maybe it was hormones
I just read this, and I'm tearing up at my desk. My boss keeps asking me what's wrong, and I can't exactly tell him that I was reading the best of Craigslist on the sly when I should have been giving the bill paying my complete attention. Nor can I explain to him that I was looking for the good laugh that Craigslist is reliable in providing me (see: this) and instead found a touching story that is making my nose turn Rudolph red, and my eyes puff up like I haven't slept in weeks. (I am not a pretty crier btw.)
So instead I'm just telling him that it's allergies. We'll keep this between us, okay?
Vacation blog coming. Just hold your horses. I'm not known for recovering from non-routine activities very quickly.
So instead I'm just telling him that it's allergies. We'll keep this between us, okay?
Vacation blog coming. Just hold your horses. I'm not known for recovering from non-routine activities very quickly.
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