Believe it or Not

Yes, indeed it actually is me. I know I have been a total slacker. My job is pretty overwhelming, and half the time I can't even type some of the stories because I am either too busy or don't think anyone would believe me.

This Christmas break has taught me stuff about myself that has both good and bad aspects:

1. I get bored easily - I was ready to move on to my next activity after only being home alone for 5 hours. It is not that I don't like being alone (I love my own space and time), it is the fact that I don't like being left alone with my thoughts, especially if I am trying to avoid them anyways.

2. Pride and Prejudice - I get sucked in every time.

3. Facebook is wonderful and horrible...

I'll continue this later, I have to go meet Megan.

Random Comments

I know I haven't written for a long time, and this is by no means going to be a great entry, but I did just want to make a couple of comments in between grading and lesson planning.

Squirrels in the country are cute. Squirrels in the city are really only rats with bushy tails, and you start to think that they would willingly attack you as they stare you down with their beady little eyes.

I understand why sometimes people aren't friendly in the city. I was taking a walk down the street on a lovely day and warmly smiled at the people I met and inquired how they were doing. After a few encounters, I decided that I no longer wanted to be friendly, there are only so many times you can hear,"Fine, how you feeling, baby," until you feel intimidated and a little bit cheap.

Crap happens everywhere. Sure someone got carjacked at gunpoint in my parking lot in broad daylight, but punk kids could have done that anywhere. Besides, the news will always try to make things more scandalous. Mom assures me that it would hurt to get shot with a pellet gun, but the news never mentioned the pellet part. I am left without changing my habits all that much.

For those who are more in the know about my present situation, I am happy to report that I now have both a desk (OH, blessed day) and computers for my technology class. I have come a long way from the first day when my only technology - an overhead - couldn't work because I didn't have an adaptor to go from 3 prong to 2 prong plug in. But, on a funny note, the day I finally got all the laptops in my room, I blew a fuse plugging in all of the laptops, so everything was out - laptops, overhead.

The stories keep rolling in. Sometimes I just have to shake my head. For example, the other day we finally got the bell system up and running (prior to this we just kind of watched the clock and tried to end at the proper time). I was in the office when they were setting the bell system. While I was in there, I decided to suggest that they put a five minute warning bell before the start of classes in the morning. They said sure. I thought things were well under control until I heard the my co-worker say that we only needed bells for the end of class, not the beginning of class. I calmly walked out, composed myself and then walked back in. I inquired if it was too difficult for us to also have bells at the beginning of the hour. The guy installing the system said it was no problem. In what world do you not put bells at the start of a class? I still am totally bewildered by that whole situation. I was telling one of my co-workers, and she just laughed and thanked me for getting the start bells installed. I am just trying to bring a little reason to my new family.

It's Long, But You Don't Have to Read It

Here is a recap (I know it is long, but believe me there is so much I am leaving out), since it has been a while and might be a while before another post.

Monday – August 25
I have an interview at a charter school for a math position (Though I tested out of AP Calc, I haven’t had a math class since high school). They tell me that if I get the job they will want me to start that Wednesday. I tell her I have prior commitments and need to give two weeks’ notice, but the notice might be able to be worked out somewhat.
I make a special trip to both of my places of employment to convey that tomorrow I will find out if what I am telling them today is my “two weeks’ notice” that is actually a two days’ notice. One of my bosses replies with something along the lines of, “Shit, shit, shit. But teaching is what you are supposed to do.” To console myself and my feet regarding the mounting stress, I buy five pairs of shoes.

Tuesday – August 26
I get the call before 10 o’clock that I have the job teaching Math 6, Math 7, Math 8, Math 9, and English 9. Trying to get as much of my stuff together as possible, I leave Job A to go to the school to pick up as many textbooks as possible. I leave the school and go to Job B where I begin reading the math textbook and wondering if I picked up a math book in a foreign language because it isn’t making sense. I go through my school stuff and stack it in the garage to get everything ready to go to school.
My parents give me a red leather bag that can fit a laptop as congratulations for my new job.

Wednesday – August 27
I arrive to my first day of training late. (Who would have guessed leaving 50 minutes for a drive that usually takes 35 minutes wouldn’t be enough? Anyone who knows my luck.) The day proceeds and mostly involves me in flux between awkwardness and helping pack up middle school materials and classrooms for the move to the new building. Lunch consists of custard and helpful advice from the administrator that is a close friend’s sister.

I skip dinner in hopes of getting things organized. After dinner, there is a parent meeting with the high school parents and then with middle school parents. My role in the meeting is to stand and wave when I hear my name because now I know that I shouldn’t understand anything because the meeting is being held in a foreign language (about 99% of the students are ESL/ELL – English as a Second Language).

After the meetings I partner up with the other teacher who will be teaching half of the English 9 students. We look over the curriculum that she has spent the last month creating and make some changes now that the class will be split. I leave school right before 11 o’clock (did I mention that I got to the meeting at 8:10 in the morning?). My co-worker and I run to our cars since it is dark and not in the best part of town. (I am blocks away from the Domes and El Rey.) My body and feet are exhausted – do you know how hard it is to pack, move and run in heels?

I get home and pack up my car since we are supposed to be able to move in tomorrow.


Thursday, August 28
The middle school meeting leaves me utterly confused as to what is going on. I do manage to figure out that I am teaching Math 7, Math 8, Math 9, English 9, Technology 8/9, and Technology 5/6/7. There is no book for either Technology and the English 9 books still have come in, so I haven’t seen much of the curriculum. And I still haven’t seen a class list. I ask if anyone has seen the Algebra materials.

I did come prepared in clothes to move in and a car loaded full of stuff, however. I spend the rest of the morning helping move into the gym of the new building. We are told are classrooms will be ready tomorrow for us to move our stuff from the gym.

At one o’clock, I head home for my prior commitment. Before leaving, my parents feed me my first real meal in two days. Okay, so it was a Packer Game, but I wasn’t going to ask someone to take my ticket two days before when they would have had to miss at least part of a day’s work. I go to the game, when my college roomie calls, I stand with all of the smokers and we chat about all the craziness and stress of beginning a new year (we both have taken a “break” from full-time teaching). Thankfully, the game at times is crappy and since it looks like it will rain, people leave early so the ride back to Milwaukee isn’t too tragic – I am home shortly after midnight.

Friday, August 29
I arrive at the new location with a car full of stuff. I go to my room to see that they are still laying the tile. Moving in doesn’t look good – especially when I am told the floor needs to set for 24 hours before weight is put on it. I help move everyone else’s stuff to their rooms, they help me move my stuff into the hallway outside of my room – which did I mention is a chapel – stained glass windows and all. Yesterday I asked if I could have my desk area in the front of the chapel – I think everyone thinks I am sacrilegious – but it would’ve been a really good spot set apart and up from everything – maybe even have a mini library up there for students. I am told no since the church has declared that are off limits. So much for my plans of acting like God. But things are under control, the building will be open all day Saturday, in the afternoon on Sunday and possibly on Monday. Algebra materials and class lists still MIA.

I leave a little after two and go to Job B (I had previously told my boss that I would work the Labor Day weekend). The day ends and my parents not only feed me, but treat me and my students to all sorts of classroom supplies – I am talking five crates worth of stuff. I relax to a movie – I mean what can I do, all the books are packed in boxes for the move.

Saturday, August 30
I work from 9 to 3. The day consists of me packaging up stuff for all the Harley riders. In addition, it for some reason is big package day. Can I tell you how difficult it is when you are my size to move 70 lb boxes. Not too easy, needless to say, I was panting after carrying/maneuvering the 120 lb box a customer brought in.

I head to the school and nearly cry as I walk into the chapel. I truly got a lesson on grace: all of my stuff was in the room, unpacked; all of the tables were set up; all the books (the ones for English 9 came in!) are in stacks on shelves. I profusely thank anyone I see that may be responsible and unload all the stuff my parents bought me the night before having to leave at 5 since the building closes. I stop at the Teacher Store on my way home and buy posters and school supplies. Algebra materials and class lists still MIA.


Sunday, August 31
I wake up early and go to Job A to use the computer/printer/internet and work on school stuff. A co-worker calls telling me the church is open. I go to my church, and after church, I recruit my parents and Rachel to help me in my room. I have a whole list of things to get done. I get to the church and it is closed. I call the principal to try and get in – no answer. We wait a bit, take a tour of the Frank Lloyd Wright houses in the area and return to the suburbs. Rachel and I decide to watch a cheesy movie and an even cheesier movie that was throw up cheesy. Obviously, algebra materials still MIA.

Monday, September 1
Truly Labor Day. I recruit my mom and call ahead to make sure the building will be open. I am told around noon. I arrive at noon to learn that people are coming at one. My mom and I bake in my car on the hot asphalt after taking a five minute shopping trip for emergency supplies - I need dry erase markers for tomorrow!

I get into my room and after many hours, decide that my mom and I will head out (she was a work horse, and we got a ton done). Algebra materials still MIA. Got last year’s class lists. On the way home, we do some errands, meaning I buy enough stuff at the store to fill up my trunk and backseat of my car. How much stuff does my classroom need – apparently a ton.

We have a typical Labor Day meal, watch Prison Break, and I head home for last minute preparations and sleep.

Here is hoping I can tell you about the actual first day soon!

Last Post of the Day - I Promise

Okay, hopefully this will bring humor into your life. The following come from a continuing education catalog and had my mom and I laughing.

Cat Psychology 101
"... Learn the secrets of cat language and how you can communicate with your cat. Training tips and recreational activities will be demonstrated by an enthusiastic cat."

Yoga: Inhale! And Smell the Moment
Comment: Have you ever done yoga in a room full of other people? Do you know what yoga does to your body? Because if you did, I don't think you would be suggesting we inhale and smell the moment.

Bikini Boot Camp for 50+
(Bikini not required)

Interviewing is Hard Work

I really hate interviews. Today after interviewing I decided to run some errands. I learned a very important lessons today: don't go shopping after an interview, and don't go shopping in uncomfortable heels. First of all, interviews are a disappointment, and so when shopping after an interview, you really want to have a successful shopping experience. And although not shopping in uncomfy heels may seem like a simple idea, I hadn't learned it until today. Not only is there the discomfort of the heels and the desire to be successful, there is the justification one feels to buy new shoes because one's current shoes aren't comfy; I left the store with five new pairs of shoes. Quixotically, all but one pair are heels.

I need another language

I found myself 12 blocks from El Rey; I had to make the detour. My tummy is still nice and full from the food and horchata. And tonight, I think I am going to make salsa verde. But I feel like I should really brush up on my Spanish vocab . . . maybe then I would at least know if I should express shock at the guys walking behind me and talking . . . maybe today wasn't the best day to go considering my job interview attire. Oh well, at least I know what I am ordering most of the time.

I am horrible - maybe you are, too.

Okay, I was reading our local paper today and came across this article. It made me laugh. I know that makes me a bad person, but, come on, how is this not funny?
"We knew we were getting to the end when she didn't finish her peas," is my favorite line. But, the first paragraph is also impressive.

I Have No Willpower

Maybe a better title is that I have no willpower for certain things - like Pride and Prejudice. That movie is like crack to me. Every time I see it is going to be on (which is practically every other day on cable, multiple times a day), I tell myself I am not going to watch it again. And then, there I am, watching it. This presents MANY problems:

1) it makes me want to live in England again;

2) besides the initial suckage of time (last Saturday I switched between P & P and the Olympics so not as much time suckage as usual), every couple of times that I see parts of the newest P & P, I remember how much I like the old one and end up watching all five hours of it, and then contemplate watching Sense and Sensibility, Clueless, Emma, Bridget Jone's Diary, and Bride and Prejudice;

3) P & P gives me unrealistic expectations about all of the people that I meet - the ones that initially I like and the ones that I don't like initially;

4) P & P lures me into unrealistic expectations of life (although I have become really good at justifying the fact that everyone in Austen's books have servants, because don't we all - we have cars, dishwashers, washing machines, stores, etc.);

5) Seeing the promos for P & P makes me mad - who likes it when someone tells you major plot points of a movie or a book. I remember blacking out a major plot point on all 60 copies of The Scarlet Letter before handing them out to my students, I was so ticked that day!;

6) It makes me think that one of the sexiest/best scenes in film is the minutes surrounding the lake scene - how disturbing/odd is that;

7) I start to wonder how much they cut for commercials and if I should buy the newest P & P (my first copy was unfortunately crap - I guess that's what you get for buying it off of a cart in a back alley of Shanghai). Maybe by owning it, I wouldn't be sucked into watching it on tv;

8) I start thinking about how many people will use the excuse that they have seen the movie to justify not reading the book. This gets me really mad, especially in the case of the most recent P & P, since it leaves out major plot points. In regards to the BBC version, if you are going to watch 5 hours, just read the book!

9) And then I start thinking about casting and how Kate Winslet (yuck!) is in Sense and Sensibility, and I am sorry but Jennifer Ehle is Elizabeth Bennet, not Keira. And although I think the adaption is really good to put it in a current cultural context, it is weird to see Sayid from Lost as Bingley? And how do you go from directing Sense and Sensibility to Brokeback Mountain, Ang Lee?

I need to stop, I am getting just way too annoyed and fired up. Maybe Gweneth and Ewan can talk me down.

29, and I have a plan.

I am 29 years old now, and I have realized a couple of things:

1) I want a job that pays me to read. I think this is a job I could do and enjoy. Plus, I could read anywhere like on safari in Africa or India (reoccuring dreams). Also, I could like read a lot one week and then take a week off. Thus, I could potentially (Keep in mind this is my ideal job) have a schedule similar to the teaching schedule I love so much. So, if anyone knows of a job where I will be paid to read, send me the info. And, I know I have been reading the Shopaholic series, but I really can read all types of literature: mystery, pop lit, young adult lit, kid's lit, the classics, etc.

2) I have decided I want a boyfriend for football season. Now reason with me here. Fall is a great time to start dating because:
a) it is not nearly as romantic as spring when everything is in bloom, and,
b) it isn't plagued by a million weddings which add stress to a relationship.
c) football season is only a couple of months long, and anyone can endure me for a couple of months.
d) As to holidays, nobody really celebrates Sweetest Day; I already have plans for Thanksgiving since Jen, Mike and Derek are coming, so he would totally be off the hook; and, by Christmas or New Year's at the least, everything is so busy that we could just skip it or we could be broken up by that time since we have to be done by the end of football season (that would cross the horrendous Val's Day off the list of concerns, too), what's a few weeks early.
e) I wouldn't be stressed all football season for lack of having a boyfriend, I would have a whole new type of stress (see reason h);
f) I would actually be a girlfriend willing to watch football;
g) I bring assets to the table (I did mean the t, but the other is probably true, too);
h) I can pretend to not be a total psychopath, high-maintenance idiot for a couple of months at least (or at least hide it semi decently till playoff time when I need to start looking for a reason to break up, but realistically the real me will probably have started to leak out, so break-up ensured!).
I just don't see any problem with the boyfriend for football season plan. So, like above, if you know of an appropriate candidate, contact me.

3) I need to get my life together. I am freaking 29 years old. I should not be this big of a mess. I need to be a mature adult and productive member of society.

Phone Calls

Anyone with a baby will acknowledge that their lives have significantly changed. Even though I don't have a baby of my own, I have found one way my life has changed having a nephew.

The last couple of times I have talked to my sister have been pretty funny. The topics range from new teeth to doggie antics. My sister has no shortage of stories with the two doggies and little boy.

I usually know how the conversation is going to go based on what I hear in the background. If Derek is happy screaming, we will talk for a while with me repeatedly asking my sister what. If Derek is unhappy screaming, Jen and I will talk while she ever so often tells Derek, "You need to go to bed, monkey." If there is barking in the background, the topic will go to what the doggies are barking about. If my sister says, "Oh, this is just not right," I know that our conversation will soon be ending because Derek has an especially disgusting diaper. If Mike is talking to Jen in the background and laughing, he is probably trying to give another perspective on the conversation. And if Mike is repeated calling my sister, it isn't because he is trying to interrupt her call as much as he needs her help because he is bleeding,

Thus, when I call my sister, I never know what I am going to hear about, and when I hear nothing in the background, I start to worry until Jen tells me Derek is taking a nap.

Great Quotes

"It's interesting that the less I see him the more I like him" (Rutka 34).

I got this quote a while back when I was reading a book. It went into my list of things to blog about . . . an ever growing list since I have been a total slacker lately. It can back to the forefront when I recently ran into someone.

Anyways, ever so often I read something in a book, and it feels like I could have written it or at least it is something I can totally relate to. This is obviously one of those quotes. Looking back, I realize how many times this has been true of the various crushes I have had over the years. I remember thinking how great that person was when they weren't around, and then I can remember seeing that person again and wondering what I was thinking.

Is it really that absence makes the heart grow fonder or that absense makes one forget what the other person is really like. Maybe it is somewhere in between the trite saying and the cynical thought above. Either way, props to yet another writer who has capture my thoughts perfectly.

I'm a Winner, Again

I have a serious problem. I am sometimes a little bit too focused, or my mind is too one-tracked. My latest compulsion has been reading the Princess Diaries series. I was seriously starting to get mad at the library for making me wait so long for the book. Now in retrospect, I know this was unreasonable to get frustrated that the library made me wait a little while for the 6th book in the series. But what was I supposed to do? I had already read the first five books, including the supplemental materials. When I start a book series I just want to finish the whole thing. This is problematic when a) you don't want to pay for the books and b)the books only take hours to read. (I have to admit that since yesterday was a slow work day, I went home once I learned I finally got the sixth book. Four books later I went to bed). The thing that really bothers me is that I will probably finish the already published books in the series by this weekend, meaning I will then have to wait to January for what I think is the last one.

As I left the library yesterday I was thinking that I didn't know how people survived before public libraries, and then I realized that when there weren't public libraries that I probably would have been up to my eyeballs in kids and illiterate.

Okay, as I write this, the library has redeemed itself. Actually, it isn't their fault that other people take too long reading a book, but I want my books faster. They called as I was writing to say I won the reading lottery this week. I have no idea what the movie I won is about, but hey, I am totally cool with free stuff. I have had pretty good luck with winning raffles this year ($500 and a dvd). But in reality, any one of us is a winner who has a library card.

What Can I Say?

Shooooot. (I cleaned up the profanity of what I am actually currently thinking and what will probably be the ongoing commentary in my head whenever I think of the upcoming season or this situation).

http://www.620wtmj.com/news/local/24503869.html

http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=3483521

I don't know what to believe. Did he really divorce us here in WI, or did Thompson make him believe it was the only way out?

I just don't know what to say. Just a few months ago I was lamenting the loss. http://unlisted-al.blogspot.com/2008/03/is-it-true.html

If he goes to another team, it just really makes me sad. I know he doesn't owe Wisconsin anything, but I would like him to feel like he does.

Of all the times to announce this, doesn't he know I am sugar free this month and can't drown my sorrows in cookies, ice cream, and chocolate?

Sugar Free July

I have decided to give up sugar for the month of July. For anyone who knows me, this is a huge deal: I live in the land of custard cooling you off on a hot summer day, I have a freezer full of chocolate (both at home and work), and I love lemonade. But what is done is done.

The first few days were so gruesome and the head aches so horrible, I contemplated drinking coffee to get my caffeine fix. But I have weathered the storm of the first few days and find myself enduring (I only have had two slip-ups, both restaurant related) and looking for creative alternatives.

I will be honest – I am totally looking forward to my birthday cake in August, but surprisingly enough, I am even contemplating tweaking the recipe so that is has less sugar!

Lessons in Caulking

1. Before you start caulking, make sure you take a shower, you never know how long your simple project is going to take. Plus, you can only asked to use your friend's shower so many times before you feel like a loser and asking the new neighbors is just awkward.

2. Make sure, especially if you decide to caulk on a whim because you find it under your sink, that the caulk is pliable.

3. Invest in a couple of things: caulk remover, your favorite alcohol, and the books Caulking for Dummies, How I Caulked and Lived to Talk About It, and When Caulk Goes Bad: How to Heal when Silicone Hurts.

4. Be aware that when you go to the hardware store, you will feel like a complete idiot. Thankfully you can make yourself feel better by buying ice cream and sunglasses.

Paranoid Daydreams

I have been going to a different church for the last few months. It has been an adjustment since I struggle to concentrate before I started attending the two hour services. Yesterday, in one of my moments of drifting off, I noticed a reddish blemish on my arm. I started inspecting it and couldn't figure it out.

I had never noticed it before, and since I had totally fried my body in the sun the day before, I started to wonder if it could be cancer. My next thoughts were naturally wondering about if I should go to the doctor. But I don't have a doctor, and realistically, my insurance is crap. I mean it basically just is catastrophe insurance, which cancer would be, but was the blemish really cancerous? While all of this was flying at a high pace and bouncing off the walls of my head, I realized that now on top of being cancerous, the blemish itched. The itch became unbearable, I really had no idea what was going on in the sermon. I just needed to scratch it, so I could contemplate having a horrible itchy cancer another day. Having scratched it, I began to refocus on the sermon, but then I looked back to my arm - the cancer was growing. I then realized that instead of having cancer, I was just a paranoid, unfocused person with one of the first signs of summer: a mosquito bite.

This Weekend

First of all I was incredibly daring - I went swimming outside on June 7th in Wisconsin. Along with being really cold, I managed to get a vibrant new red hue also. I guess it might have been a good thing that we have had non-stop rain since so I am not tempted to be outside.

Mother/daughter bonding

The countdown to my sister and nephew coming is in neon lights at my parents' house. Preparations are well under way. It is a good thing royalty will never come to our house, I can't imagine how we all could be on higher alert.

Since I had a gap between subbing and my other job, I went to my parents' house to say hi. My mom told me she would be right down, but I figured it would be a good daughterly/sisterly move to go upstairs and help. I found my mother among wood, screws, casters and tons of instructions. Super Alli to the rescue.

I have a little known fetish - I love putting things together. I remember my sister and I putting her whole library together - all 9 book shelves. Last fall I had the joy of creating a dresser for my spare room from a bunch of pieces of wood and a sheet of instructions. Maybe this love goes back to the first day I stepped in IKEA and saw that the world was filled with possibilities if you are only willing to read instructions and invest in a screwdriver.

Less than an hour later my mom and I were done with the assembly. All that needs to be done is to put the sheets on and Derek has his very own Wisconsin crib. My next baby related tasks are to clean my car enough so that Derek won't be exposed to every known germ in the tri-state area and install the car seat (my sister even got a black-and-white cow cover in honor of all our neighbors).

Chicken Pot, Chicken Pot, Chicken Pot Pie

My sister called me today and told me that we hadn't talked in so long. She said it probably was because even though we talked a week ago, I haven't been posting anything recently. So here I go.

Last night about 6:30 I decided that I really wanted chicken pot pie. I don't know why I love it so much, but for me it is a total comfort food. It is just so yummy, and realistically it is the only time I eat carrots, peas or green beans with any sort of relish. I am laughing right now at how ambiguous that last sentence was . . . you know because relish is a food product, but I didn't mean it that way. I know you are laughing to, just probably at how dumb I am. It also reminds me of college and Lynn and I saying, "Chicken pot, chicken pot, chicken pot pie," because it was used on one of the shows we watched.

So, at 6:32 I realize that all but two of the ingredients that I need for the chicken pot pie are in the freezer, which is good since I want to clean out the freezer, but bad because it means they are frozen. What a weird connection things in the freezer being frozen. Mind boggling.

Now comes one of my pet peeves in making food: I hate defrosting meat in the microwave. It just bothers me that it doesn't equally defrost and then some of the chicken starts to cook even though parts are still frozen; it just majorly weirds me out.

I turn on the oven and place the pie crust and the cream cheese on the stove top to defrost (my back burner is the vent for the oven or something, so it gets warm, so I figured that would be good for the cream cheese, while the stove top gets warm whenever I use a burner which would hopefully work for the pie crust).

I trek downstairs. Let me explain, well over a year ago I decided to remove my microwave from my kitchen for four reasons: I love my toaster oven, making things in the microwave isn't the best nutritionally, I rarely used the microwave, and the microwave took up a whole counter! I make the basement journey probably once a week, so it really doesn't bother me, and whenever I have a twinge of thinking I am crazy, I just think about the extra exercise I am getting due to my idiosyncrasies and all the extra counter space I have. I plug in the micro (do you know how much extra electricity is used by appliances that are just plugged in?), and start to defrost the chicken.

To avoid the play by play of the next 30 minutes, I'll just tell you that I was enjoying my chicken pot pie at 8:00. Is it bad that since 8 o'clock last night I have eaten half of a 9 inch pie? I mean having chicken pot pie for breakfast is atypical, but it's so yummy. And realistically it is better than my usual breakfast of chocolate.

Piety, Here I Come

I have decided that my freezer needs to be completely emptied, I just feel like some of the stuff has been in there too long. Plus, I really just want to reorganize my freezer and it is easiest to do when there is nothing in there. Thus, my chocolate stash has been drastically reduced. In order to clean my freezer, I needed a plan that would eradicate the chocolate, which takes a considerable chunk of my freezer, but also not lead to total (only partial) gluttony. I decided that I can only eat half a candy bar at a time. This has been going pretty well, especially since I have not felt the deprivation since I began with the super-sized bars. Thus, the candy bar that myself and four friends would snack on while playing cards, is consumed just by me in two sittings :) My chocolate store is down to about 5 pounds! My hips are slightly up, but hey, I need to be a good housekeeper.

I am well on my way to clean freezer. They do say that cleanliness is next to godliness. And if what is keeping my freezer unclean or at least unorganized is chocolate, then it stands to reason that the chocolate needs to be dealt with in a proper manner. It would not be proper to throw it away, because that would be wasteful; so, it must be consumed. Leading me to believe that maybe consuming chocolate is next to godliness. That being the case, I think I am going to work extra hard on my piety. Anyone want to join me?

Portion Control

I have a new method of controlling what I eat: I keep the ice cream at my parents' house. It actually works out quite well. In order to get ice cream, I have to make a special trip to see my parents; this makes them and me happy. The half gallon took me 2-3 weeks to eat, and that was with help from my parents. The only problem is that the half gallon is now gone. What flavor to choose next?

Reasons why I should move into an old age home

Reason #1: After exercising I realize that I am old, everything hurts, so I think I could commiserate with my fellow housemates.

Reason #2: I was finished with dinner at 4:25 P.M. today. It wasn't a snack time, it was my dinner.

Reason #3: Really good rent? Don't you get special deals or something at that age?

Reason #4: Maybe I could actually get some Social Security in my lifetime if I start living there. You know maybe they would just start sending the checks due to the location.

Reason #5: I could finally be considered the lively one.

Reason #6: I would have an excuse for telling the same stories over and over again.

Reason #7, 8, & 9: These are for you to fill in, I know you have something to add.

Update

I mentioned a few weeks ago about the strange looks that I got regarding my attire when I went grocery shopping. The story gets, in my mind, funnier. I rarely go to that grocery store, and while there, I thought I recognized one of the checkers, but I never know why I recognize people. Anyway, I was subbing last week and a student asked me if I was in that grocery store. I asked him if I was looking totally disheveled. He looked like he didn't know what the word meant, or maybe he thought I was trying to trick him. Either way I got a good laugh.

A Good Quote

"Experience is what you get when you didn't get what you wanted" (Pausch 148).

Considering the last few years, I have tons of experience.

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble, Fore

I saw a really funny sight this morning on my way to work. I love Wisconsin because there is wildlife and civilization close at hand, and today was no exception. As I drove past the golf course, I saw a lone golfer out on the course getting some practice. The thing I saw next made me laugh out loud for the next few minutes. Golfer on one part of the course, a turkey madly running on the other part. It was just so odd to see both. I have seen golfers and turkeys there, but never co-existing. Maybe turkeys are into life-long sports.

Classic Bill

I arrived at my parents on Sunday to begin our Mother's Day activities. As we drove out of the garage, my dad goes, "Did you see the crabs?" My mom gasped, and I just kind of laughed. "What?"

"That just wasn't the right way to put it," my mom advised.

"Dad, the crab apple trees look great."

Given this and other events, maybe our yard should be a PSA for STDs.

Happy Mother's Day

My gift to my mom this Mother's Day is to tell the world how great she is. What follows are memories and reflections on who my mom is.

My mom believed it to be very important to teach my sister and I about responsibility. However, she also realized that Jen and I were different and would best learn the lesson in different ways. She choose to teach my sister, who loved to read, with library books, and she choose to teach me, who loved chocolate, with candy bars.

My mom made it my sister's responsibility to return the books on time, if she didn't return them on time, she was responsible for the fines. My sister had been slacking in being responsible, and multiple times my mom had to take my sister at the last minute to avoid the dreaded 10 cent fine (that is a lot of money for a 10 year old in the 80s). Finally, my sister missed the due date, my mom was ecstatic, not because she wanted Jen to have to pay the money, but because she wanted my sister to learn responsibility and consequences. My mom was waiting in the car as my sister went in to pay the fine, returning to the car with a skip in her step, my sister informed my mom that the library had a two day grace period. My mom was a little annoyed, but she figured Jen had had a sufficient time in the car fretting about the fine due to her irresponsibility. She also got a mini-lesson in grace.

For me, the responsibility lesson also involved money, but instead of library books my conduit of learning was, ever so appropriate, chocolate. I had just finished helping my sister clean my dad's office building. Like any 10 year old, the 50 cents I had earned was burning a hole in my pocket as we went to Target. At the checkout, I asked my mom if I could buy a candy bar with my money. She first asked me how much I needed to tithe from my earnings. I did the math and realized that a nickel would go to God, leaving me with 45 cents. Since the candy bar, was 33 cents, I would still be able to get it, even with the government getting involved. The candy bar was gone before we even got in the car, but the sugary jolt probably lasted to my mother's dismay for the 15 minute ride home. At home I went off to play without a care in the world, however, a few hours later I remembered my 50 cents and asked my mom for my money. She told me she had put my tithe in my tithe bank and then handed me a dime. "But where is my 50 cents?" I whined. What next ensued was a lesson in economy: If you have 50 cents and give 5 to God, 35 to your chocolate addition, how much do you have left? A dime. My mom still attributes this lesson to the aversion I have for spending money - probably the reason why she buys me all of my chocolate these days.

Another great thing about my mom is our birthday cakes - really not everything is food related for me. To this day, I always get my favorite type of cake (and meal) on my birthday. When August rolls around, I am craving chocolate chip zucchini cake. However, she did not just make birthday cakes for Jen and me, every January she makes carrot cake with cream cheese frosting for my dad. Her is where her brilliance truly shines, she would have Jen and I help make the cake for my dad. I think every kid remembers licking off the beaters while making a cake, but mom was smart enough to realize that that probably wouldn't be enough for two little kids who would then have to wait for their dad to come home to enjoy the dessert. Thus, she always made extra frosting, and while we waited to celebrate my dad's birthday later that night, we would snack on graham crackers and frosting. To this day, I still associate graham crackers with cream cheese frosting.

I might as well continue by telling you how my mom made the ordinary seem like a treat. She had my sister convinced that Ritz crackers were cookies. She would give us water in the car when we were really really thirsty by telling us to hand us our cups (both water and cup were imaginary), and wouldn't stop pouring until we were satisfied.

My mom taught us to be crazy and have fun. I never was in need of a playmate as a kid, because she was more than willing to play whatever crazy game I thought would be fun. She even bought roller blades when I did so we could learn together - an endeavor from which her wrist has never recovered.

Not only was my mom great when I was young, she still takes care of me. The other day I was sick. Somehow, between my mom and dad, they decided that I was too sick to take care of myself. So, they kidnapped their 28 year old daughter to spoil while she was feeling sick. It recalled to me what I used to do on sick days, my mom would allow me to watch my favorite movies - the Beverly Hills Cop trilogy. To this day I associate being sick with watching those movies.

I really can't recall a single game that my mother didn't attend. The snow may have just melted, but she was still there in her shorts and headband cheering me on. She also made sure that my dad came to my games even though he would have to leave work early. When I went on to coaching, she also came to my games to cheer me and the girls on.

I knew my mom would always build me up and never shame me in public. The other day while I was working a mom said to her daughter that she smelled really bad and that her sister wasn't like that. I know she probably didn't think that their conversation was any of my business, but she said it loud enough that had I been twice the distance away I would have heard her. My heart ached for the little girl who felt so bad that she apologized to her mom. Her mom told her that she didn't need to apologize for smelling, but the damage was done. That little girl now thinks there is something wrong with her and that she doesn't measure up to her sister. I never felt that my mom thought I was a failure or disappointment.

I don't love my mom because she takes care of me or because she buys me chocolate, I love her because of how she has taught me that even if loving and caring for someone is a sacrifice, you can still do it with grace, patience, and laughter. In many ways, I think the major complaint I have is that she made being a mother look easy. If you don't think my mom is a rock star by the end of this, read here.

Strange Looks

Last Saturday, I went to a movie night with some of my girlfriends. It was a semi-impromptu affair, so I decided to stop and get some pizzas at the grocery on my way to watching the movies. Since it was only girls and at one of our houses, I went sans makeup, in velvet pajama pants, and wearing an old baseball jersey. In addition, my face was totally breaking out.

I grabbed the pizzas, jalapeno poppers, and a chocolate cake. Arriving at the checkout lane, I had a couple in their 40s or 50s in front of me. The guy looked back at me, looked at my food, gave a look of utter shock and then proceeded to act like he didn't react to my food as his eyes started darting all around trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

Ode to the Next Generation

I subbed today. It is slowly leading to my demise. It is sometimes so disillusioning to see the next generation in action.

Gym Chutzpah

After subbing today, I decided that I was going to quit the gym. I just am not a gym sort of girl. I mean if it is actually warm here in WI, I want to be outside, and if not, I need an extra layer of fat to keep me warm in the snow.

I parked at the gym and headed towards the door. Now my gym isn't always staffed, but I knew that the trainer often was there in the early afternoon. I also have seen him interact with other quitters, so I thought I might have a chance. So, as I was walking past the doors, I was sneaking a peak inside to see if he was there. I saw him, and only then realized that it probably looked like I was checking him out. Which in all honesty I have done while I have been there exercising.

I used my card to enter, and strode right over to him passing a person who actually uses the gym and was hot - both in the sweaty sense and physical attractiveness. I stayed focused, who cares if this hot guy I just passed works out here, to foster a relationship, I would have to work out. Eyes on the prize I stepped up to the trainer and in a fashion totally atypical of me, I said exactly what I wanted to say, "Can I talk to you about quitting?"

He just smiled, making me recall the other times he has been there while I was working out. I think his smile was repressing his inner thought of: Yeah, I've seen you work out a couple of times, it really wasn't going well. Maybe you just aren't cut out to exercise. Maybe you should move to Alaska where a parka would be every day wear. It might at least mask your colossal thighs. Instead, he got up and handed me a form of termination.

"So, if I sign this today, I will be done as of May 31st?"

"Yeah, but make sure you hold on to your card."

"Because then I can just rejoin in September if I want to without paying the extra fee?"

"Exactly."

After signing with an extra bit of flourish, I handed him my form, "I just couldn't find a time that worked out for me."

"It's really hard in winter to want to leave your house."

I could've done a quick workout before heading to my other job, but I figured that I shouldn't bother, I just got everything I wanted, why would I ruin it. Plus, I had to contemplate why I can't just tell people what I want in my every day life. Really, why can't I just stride in with confidence in other situations? Why does my non-existent confidence only surface to help me quit?

Oh What a Beautiful Morning

My lack of sleep of late hasn't been due to the 4 month old upstairs, but due to the 12 and 4 year old.  The latter two have been sharing my bed.  Not only do they take up a lot of space, they are hairy and make me so hot.  Plus, they lick my face all the time.

  

Utterly exhausted, I went upstairs to find my sister in bed with the baby, so I just threw myself on the end of the bed and asked if maybe I took a W if they would leave me alone.   I put on swishy pants and the dogs went crazy.  We headed out and took a long walk.  Once home, all three of us felt better.

Derek had started chatting while his mommy was vacuuming, so I went in to pick him up from his nap.  I noticed he was substantially heavier than usual.  I asked his mommy if he needed a change and she said yes.  So, we went to the changing table as Jen came in.  I opened up the diaper and Jen told me I would probably just want to leave because it was disgusting.  All week we have been planning a bath, so now seemed like a perfect time since he was covered.  So, since we put the diaper in the pail, I grabbed the naked one and headed for the sink.  Jen told me all week that I was being brave in my lack of covering Derek while changing him, I thought she was just supporting the urban myth that babies pee on you.  

Derek and I were patiently waiting by the sink when I all of a sudden was feeling warmth on my tummy.  I stuck Derek over the sink, and he stopped peeing.  So, I held him close again while telling Jen that I had been peed on.  Derek thought it was so cute, he went for Round 2.  I was soaked, but I couldn't put him down, we weren't ready with the bath!

Japanese Gardens

Jen, Derek and I went to the Japanese Gardens on Wednesday.  I did pretty good photography for not having a long arm.  

My Day - By Lucky Diamond

Auntie Alli has been a slacker and hasn't been blogging.  Thus, I guess I have to use my little paws and write about what I have been doing.  Auntie Alli came on Saturday.  The very first thing  I did when I saw her was start crying and give her tons of kisses.  I even kissed her before sticking my nose towards the cinnamon rolls she had in her other hand, rather noble of me I thought.

So, I have been playing a fun game with Auntie Alli.  Every morning between 5:30 and 6:30 I come to see her.  The first day she wasn't prepared for my visit, so she left her door closed.  There was nothing I could do but cry outside her door until she let me in for kisses.  She got smarter and started leaving her door open for my morning visits.  Now all I do is lean up beside her bed and she drags herself somewhat out of her stupor so that she can crawl to the side of her bed for kisses.  Then, she has been lifting me into bed (while she nearly falls out!) so we can take a morning nap.  The funny thing is, I can get into bed on my own, but I have been acting like I can't so she picks me up!  I am so sneaky, but she figured it out, so now I have to jump up or at least try a couple of times before she picks me up.

But I got away with my story, I wanted to tell you what I did yesterday.  My special bonding time with Mommy has always been while she is cooking.  We really bond while she is in the kitchen.  Plus, if she drops something, I can be a good little helper by cleaning it up.  I am willing to do my part.  Well, yesterday while she was cooking we weren't bonding.  She was busy making Indian food, and Aunt Alli was talking to the little one like Mommy does, telling him that he has a little butt, and that he is so cute.  

What the heck!?!  I am the cute one with the little butt, so maybe I am carrying my winter weight and my butt isn't the chicken butt it used to be.  But Mommy and Daddy don't take me on as many walks, and I am an emotional eater, regardless of the emotion.  But what got me really mad was that Auntie Alli is so impressed with what Derek does.  I do more than that little melon head - all he does he eat, sleep and occasionally poop, actually, I think we do about the same amount, but I have been here longer!  It's not like he can walk or anything.  Mommy says we are going to be great friends, I don't know, he is no Marty.

But again, I got sidetracked.  So, Mommy was cooking and not letting me help, so I decided I would help clean up while showing her that I could do more than Derek.  So I jumped.  I easily got the frozen garlic naan that was on the counter.  I then showed Mommy how fast I can move - Derek can't even roll over yet - although Auntie Alli does tell him that she will give him a dollar if he rolls over while she is here.  She has never given me a dollar, I really don't know what a dollar is, but that isn't the point.  Run, run, run while I munch, munch, munch.  I heard Mommy calling Auntie Alli to help, but she had Derek in her arms, I knew that I could outwit and outrun them easily.  So, I ate the whole piece of frozen naan.  Mommy and Auntie Alli were a little annoyed, but they were still laughing, affectionately calling me the little devil.  They decided not to tell Daddy (he doesn't find my athletic helping as cute), but I was really proud, so when Daddy came home, I demonstrated my feat again and took a piece of the cooked naan.  Daddy slapped my butt, and Mommy grabbed it out of my mouth.  This time when the word little devil was used, it wasn't as kind.  It kind of hurt, like the expanding naan in my tummy.  All night I had to take it easy, I might have overdone it with having that extra bite of naan.  

I included a picture of me after the naan, as you can see, I am trying to stretch out to accommodate the naan while trying to not succumb to the naan coma.    I also included one of me rolled over, and Derek not rolling over.

I am the meanest person ever

While I was flying to Portland, I was sitting next to someone who had a Scientific American magazine.  I looked at the magazine, I looked at the guy, and based on nothing other than the magazine, I decided that he was a total nerd.  As the flight went on, I realized that he probably looked at me, looked at my Finnish book, noticed me doing the crossword puzzle and Suduku and thought what a geek.  I guess it is easy to pick and choose what you determine is geeky.

Saving Creation One Squirrel at a Time

Before I get to my heroism, I wanted to make a quick comment about deer which I neglected. Prior to the cold/snow snap ushered in on Good Friday, I had started to notice deer everywhere. Now living in Wisconsin, this seems like I am making a big deal of this, but the deer weren't dead, and they were just hanging out, and I saw them all of the time. To be honest, it was kind of eerie.

Now, to saving the squirrels. I take a lovely, winding scenic route along the lake every day. Yesterday, on my way to work, I saw a squirrel contemplating crossing the street. So, I was intent on watching the squirrel to make sure that I didn't run him over. He decided to stay perched on the curb. Unfortunately, by watching the squirrel, this meant that I wasn't watching the road ahead of me, or the turkeys who actually were crossing the street. Thankfully, I had abandoned my watchful vigilance of the squirrel in enough time to successfully avoid killing the turkeys though they did feel I cut it too close due to their glares. Let me tell you, it is intimidating looking a scared and ticked off turkey in the eye.

RED

Sometimes in life, something so great happens, that you feel as if all of the stars are aligned just for you. This is the sensation I had yesterday at the grocery store. I headed to the grocery after work to pick up some chicken, a roll and oranges; I quickly got my items and started scanning for the shortest line. I ended up having to go to the line the farthest away, but while the last few items of the customer in front of me were being scanned, I took in my surroundings. And what an incredible site I saw.

“When did we get a red box?” I loudly exclaimed with ecstasy.

The cashier nonchalantly replied, “It has been here for a week.”

Thus ensued a conversation with the bagger, cashier, fellow customer and myself about how beautiful a thing the red box is. Since you might not have been introduced to this gem, let me acquaint you.

Red Box is a DVD rental vending machine. It makes me remember back to the days when Red Owl had a video vending machine, back when the Red Owl was pretty much the only thing Hartland had. I first was introduced to Red (my pet name for her) in Portland while visiting my sister. The concept is brilliant. This lovely little red box has 200 different movies in her. You go to her screen, pick a movie, scan your credit card, and you have a date with a new (or older) release until 9 P.M. the next night. And let me tell you, she is a cheap date at only $1. But, it gets better. Let’s say you really want a certain movie, you just go online, and reserve it at your respective Red and it’s waiting for you.

Now I am sure that some of you soothsayers are trumpeting the drawbacks and hidden pitfalls. Let me assuage your fears. Fear #1: Late fees – There are none, if you keep it another night, you just get charged another dollar. No worries, you have paid more to rent a DVD than $2 before. Fear #2: You don’t watch the movie, and your money is wasted – Let us be realistic, you have thrown away a dollar for less. Fear #3: It is inconvenient – Not for me, I just take a 1 minute jaunt to the grocery store; however, where my sister lives, Red gets around and hangs out at every McDonalds. Plus, you don’t have to return the movie to the same Red. Fear #4: This is an attempt at world domination - Okay, possibly, but the movies are only a dollar! Fears #5, #6, & #7 – Give me a break, you know this is wonderful. I went to the website today and got a free rental.

I glided out of the grocery and within minutes had alerted both my mother and sister to the joyous news. As I drove home, I knew that at least for this moment, all was well.

World's Cutest Nephew

Let me prove it, and can I just say his baptism picture with his sweater vest is even cuter!

I'll be there in 19 days!

Welcome to Wisconsin

Only here, when spring is just around the corner, will there be a snowstorm on the first day of spring break!

Another Crappy Morning

I subbed today. So, after the call just before 6, I started getting ready for the day. I was totally prepared – snacks, books, all my letters of recommendation and job search info. I placed them all in my bag and headed out.

I got to the school and was ready to go for the first class. Once I got them started on their assignment, I decided to grab one of my books to read and my extra special morning drink. I pulled the book out of my bag and after placing it on the podium, realized that the book was wet. I thought it was just a fluke, so I wiped down the podium. However, I then realized that it was too much liquid and stickiness for a fluke. I looked at my nalgene and realized that there was 2 ounces missing, the cap was wet, and recalled I had only taken a single sip.

Crap! I headed back to my bag to see the damage. I took out everything from my bag and began wiping off the liquid that wasn’t absorbed. I became more and more annoyed as I looked at the results. I know you are probably wondering what the big deal was, I mean, come on, it wasn’t that much liquid. The problem wasn’t the amount, the problem was my extra special liquid – pomegranate and blueberry juice. Purple was everywhere. Let me remind you what I had in my bag. 1) All my letters of recommendation for my never ending job search. B) Two library books.

I now was faced with the agony that I have to go to the library (let me remind you of my issues with the library regarding internet users and the librarian who hates me) and ask what I should do about their purple books – one was on loan from another library. If I wanted to purchase the books, I would not have gone to the library. I am not going to even start on the letters of recommendation except to say that I just decided I wouldn't take a day off from filling out applications.

With everything taken out of the bag and wiped down, I took a deep breath and looked down – at my white shirt. The joy never ends.

How I Woke Up This Morning

First of all I need to start with a brief history. Marty came to our family the summer of '94. Having been harassed by a crow, we found Marty in a tree. He hissed at us when we grabbed him, but soon found our front porch equipped with a milk crate for a home. He was just a kitten, and a cute, incredibly soft one at that. He had meandered his way from the farm, and despite my dad telling us not to feed it, we did. He also told us not to bring the little guy in the house, but we did; and, after giving fleas to our dogs, it was decided that he needed to become an official part of the family to prevent another outbreak. Next, he was stretching and scratching upon the couch, so he got declawed; then, finding him in a compromising position, he got neutered. The cat acts like a prince, even more so since the princess has left. He makes my dad look like he isn't spoiled.

My mom and Marty have a good relationship. He knows to leave her alone. If he comes up by her head while she is sleeping, she throws him to the bottom of the bed; if he is sleeping by her feet, she kicks him. My dad and Marty have become incredibly tight, especially after the other hairy beast left for Portland. Marty will sit all night in my dad's lap, and he often lays on my dad's chest while in bed. Likewise, the two begin the morning together in the bathroom getting ready for the day and then have breakfast together. My dad is like clockwork, and Marty truly appreciates his consistency.

My parents are gone for the week, so I am taking care of the hairy guy. Since Marty is used to having a lot of attention, I now have to provide it. One problem, however, is the fact that I am mildly allergic to the little terror, which I think makes him love me more. The last time I spent the night at my parents, he slept with me, on the small of my back! On Sunday, he spent the whole afternoon and night laying in my lap or on my chest (I was in my dad's chair) and pawing/petting my face to show his love. Last night, he wasn't nearly as affectionate, so I figured I had given him sufficient love or given him enough attitude that he knew I shouldn't be messed with - I get crabby when my allergies act up. So, we went to bed, like the night and morning before, I could always feel him hovering around me, but he thankfully nestled in and we went to sleep.

Marty obviously thought that he had given me a significant amount of time to realize that in addition to giving him food, water, pepperoni, and my complete attention, I needed to provide those on his time frame. When my dad is home, he gets up at 6 and begins his morning immediately by giving Marty a ton of affection. Marty, I think, thought he was being benevolent when he waited till 6:10 to start pawing/poking my face. Who needs an alarm clock when you have a cat from hell? I uncovered my head and told him no. I went back to sleep, but every time my snooze went off or I woke to check the time, that little bastard was just staring at me. He is cute, but I don't want to wake up to that face staring a hole into my head as he glares at me, telling me I need to get up, feed him, and love him.

It's Coming

I heard birds chirping on Sunday, and then I heard them again on Wednesday. There is hope that spring is on its way, even if the snow piles still abound.

Is it True? Addendum: I guess it is

I know there is talk of dirty bombs in South America and missiles in the Middle East. But Wisconsin is dealing with its own explosion right now; and, sadly, it will garner way more news coverage here. News agencies are reporting that Brett Favre has retired. For those who aren't football fans and Wisconsinites, you probably won't understand how colossal this is. Wisconsin loves Brett Favre. Every year, the news is broken down into four seasons: talking about the upcoming season, football season, rehashing the season and wondering if Brett Favre is retiring, and the dead time between when no one really watches the news because it has nothing to do with the Packers.

At the last game I attended, I was talking to a Vikings fan, he made it explicitly clear: Many Wisconsinites see Brett Favre as a deity. I don't mean to be sacrilegious - even though the football game has become the key aspect of Sundays for many a family, but Brett Favre has been in Green Bay for 16 years. Most of my life has occurred while Brett Favre has been the leading quarterback of the Packers. In addition, Brett Favre is the only quarterback that people 20 or under know; and, probably for some, the only quarterback that people under 30 want to acknowledge.

So, we wait to find out if it is true. We wait to find out if it is because of Randy Moss. We wait to find out if he will go out like a hero. We wait.

Addendum: I guess the waiting is over, Ted Thompson has announced that Favre intends to retire. So, now it is just the crap of poorly handled news.

Injured Proving Yourself Wrong

Actually I wasn't injured proving myself wrong as much as being stupid, but I really wanted to use the movie quote. The other day I was happily watching a movie on the couch when I suddenly realized that it was time to switch activities - naturally to go to bed. Thus, being really happy about the prospect of my bed, I jumped up exuberantly.

Somehow, and I am not quite sure on the details, I got a little stab of pain in my frantic activity and noticed that I had somehow cut my heel. First thought: wow, I am an idiot. Second thought: How did it happen? Third thought: Because you're an idiot. Fourth thought: I wonder if this means that I won't have to workout due to my new injury. I probably can't wear shoes. So maybe I'll have to go on the Pilates circuit for a bit. Fifth thought: Maybe I should check out how bad this is.

I went to the bathroom to wash off the blood, which by this point is doing an unhealthy stream. I clean it up and then hobble downstairs for a band-aid. The key thing that I realized though while trying to bend my body to take care of the heel is that Pilates is probably out of the question, but really needed, since taking care of the injury has led to a high level of discomfort in twisting and contorting my body.

The injury wasn't so bad once it had the padding of the band-aid. And I am happy to report that either by the fact that I have gone to work out a few times in the last week or I just have gotten used to contorting my body, I can now take care of my heel wound with no discomfort.

Two Quick Book Reviews, As Requested

Gatsby's Girl by Preston

Summary: The novel looks at the life of Ginerva, Fitzergerald's muse for many of his characters. The story spans her jilting Fitzgerald to their deaths.

Drawbacks: I struggle with historical fiction because I always feel that as a genre it is really broad; you can have one histotical truth and a lot of fiction or tons of history and not a lot of fiction. At the end of the book, the author does list the facts.

Kudos: The book takes an interesting look on the idea of not wanting illusions to die. I think the book would have been better if read concurrently with one of Fitzgerald's works.

Me and Mr. Darcy by Potter

Summary: The novel follows a bookstore manager as she chooses an Austen book tour instead of singles vacation.

Drawbacks: The book at times is gimmicky in paralleling the Austen favorite; sometimes it mirrors the book too much, sometimes it doesn't seem close enough, making it both predictable and wanting.

Kudos: An poignant look at the idea of fantasy versus reality. Some of the methods used to modernize P&P were impressive, as were some of the plot twists.

Undecided Comment: The author implies that Darcy is not real, but a fictional character. As a true Darcy lover, this grates on my nerves; as a realist, I acknowlege the truth of the statement.

My Life

Yesterday morning began in a way typical of my life; I was angry at the alarm. Rolling over, I decided to face the day as best I could while feeling under the weather. After getting ready and putting on a cute outfit (my mother told me that my job for the day was to take the baby, aka my dad, out to eat since she was out of town), I decided to check my mail. As has been noted before, I do this rarely. Due to late nights and weekends away, I haven't checked my mail since early February. In all actuality, I only checked because I thought I might be getting some information about a class I am taking.

I grabbed my key, and upon opening my garage door saw that it was raining. My whole parking lot was filling up with puddles. I am not the smartest girl in the world, so even though I was wearing slip ons, I decided to try and navigate the puddles without getting my socks wet. Balancing on my tiptoes and doing quick little jumps to the mailbox resulted in favorable results. So, with my arms now full of mail (and the book for my class), I began the dash back. Not even half way to my garage door I slipped. Evidently, which I had slightly noticed on my way to the mailbox, the puddles of water only managed to cover and not melt the patches of ice underneath. My neighbor asked me if I was okay (add to the humilation), with a quick jump up I said, "Yes, I just have to change." I got inside my house and surveyed the damage. One whole side of me (the part that had decided to take a quick dip in the lake of my parking lot) was soaking wet. I had absorbed so much water that my fleece jacket had soaked thru to the sweater underneath it. Off went the cute outfit, while I quickly surveyed for blood, and on went a cuter outfit.

Just another typical day and reason why I don't check my mail.

Strap on your clogs, Joost, we’re getting married!

Background: February 10-12 was Girl’s Weekend in Grand Rapids

Disclaimer: Names have been changed to protect identities; in addition, I used names that although they don’t seen appropriate, I was told by the internet (and how could that be wrong?) that they are Dutch names.

Disclaimer #2: The Dutch are great. I mean, if you're not Dutch, you're not much, right?

From various people in ministry or regarding life in general, I have heard it said that you should never say that you’d never do something. It just sets you up for the potential of having to eat crow. I remember saying I would never step foot in a certain building, only to find myself teaching there four years later.

Thus, when Titi said she would never marry a Dutch person, we graciously let it slide the first time. Second time though was asking for trouble, and we pounced. Before we knew it, we were planning the bachlorette party and how clogs would look under a wedding dress (while of course wearing the appropriate bonnet and taking pictures in front of a windmill). Before long, we were bent over laughing at all the possible last names Titi could acquire: VanDynHoven, Van Dyke, Dykstra, DeHoop, Vandenhousen, DeVoss, and countless other Vans and names ending in sma or stra. Then of course was the tragedy of marrying a man of Dutch descent with a hyphenated name leading to Titi Dykstra-Vandenhousen. We were besides ourselves as we tried to think up the most outrageous names and other results of marrying Dutch. Titi’s only recourse was to assert that Elsa was also going to marry Dutch since she was moving up to the GR area. Looking back on the conversation, I realize how impacted it was by lack of sleep. More importantly, the conversation was impacted by the chance to spend time with true friends and reflect on the early years of our friendship, the memories we were currently making, and the possible, albeit, wooden possibilities of the future as our friendship cries and laughs through another decade.

Why I Don't Watch News

I rarely watch the news. Last night I remembered one of the reasons why.

We have had a lot of snow this winter, and I wanted to find out how much snow the news said had fallen in the previous snow storm. I watched the first ten minutes of the news; it was all snow related: how to shovel correctly, people getting plowed into parking spots, how much snow had fallen in the area, and the kindness of people during the latest snow epidemic. All I can say is it is obvious that we are out of football season and the Bucks suck (though I heard they are encountering an injury malaise).

So, what finally made me stop watching? I have decided that the news makes me paranoid, or more realistically, makes me aware that I am a paranoid person. They were providing a community service by warning people to make sure their furnace vent wasn't covered by snow due to the risk of carbon monoxide. The fireman glibly said, "If you don't uncover it, you probably won't wake up." My mind went into panic mode, and I ran to my front door, which incidently really seems to be my back door. I ripped the door open and looked around. Where was my furnace vent? Was it covered by snow? Was I going to die tonight? My eyes scanned the wall, where was it? My furnace vent was gone! Who took it? I was completely mystified. Should I call the police or the glib fireman? Do I have a furnace vent? Yes, I think so. And if I do, it is definitely covered in snow. Do the groundskeepers know not to kill me by covering the vent? Maybe it was a plot to encourage my demise.

What do I do? Obviously, I do the only thing to do. I lock the door, and instead of digging out the furnace vent, I dig out the carbon monoxide detector. I put in new batteries and test it. It works; but, unfortunately, the beeping is so loud and high pitched that I am now partially deaf, so I might end up not waking up for the simple fact that when the carbon monoxide detector goes off, I won't hear it.

I guess I'll just stay uninformed, I mean did I really need to know we got 16" of snow? Not really, people had been telling me that all day.

I'm taking a Snow Day

Yesterday, I decided that I deserved a snow day - all the schools were off, why not me? So, I put in three hours of work and headed to Target. After looking at curtains, cameras, and movies, I headed home. Vehicles were fishtailing all around me, a SUV had plowed a light signal, and the world was covered in white.

What ensued was a relaxing day, typical of what this month has been. Last weekend I went up to the Twin Cities to visit Tom and Katy (Gnorizo and Theophilus) and took Monday to drive back. I had to see the Giants beat the Patriots. I had a great time. I received some book suggestions which I thoroughly enjoyed. The introduction to A Ticket to Ride:Europe was fun. And, although we didn't get to snowshoe, we had a great time catching up. On Saturday, I am flying out to Grand Rapids to see friends. All said and done, it would appear that work is not a priority this month, good thing it is a short one.

Hunt for the Red Cell Phone

Okay, it's a pathetic blog topic, but you probably already think I am a loser.

I lost my cell phone on Saturday. I was ticked. I hate losing things, especially when I have to pay for the things that I lose because I was careless. Rachel helped me look for 30 minutes, but I dislike when my irresponsibility affects others, so we headed our respective directions.

Sunday, after a night of thinking about my lost cell phone and where it could be, I strapped on my snowshoes and decided to hunt. I figured that if I didn't find the phone, at least I was getting some extra exercise. Thankfully, it has been too cold for either snow or meltage, so I was able to walk in our tracks from the day before. Plus, after my night of thinking, I had a couple of places that I wanted to look for specifically. I checked the first area with no luck, but I hadn't had high hopes because it was the same place Rachel and I had focused on the day before. I continued my exercise pausing along our tracks to see if there were any marks beside our snowshoes or dogs' prints. Sporadically I paused and using my mom's cell phone called mine to see if I might hear it somehow (note: the vibe then ring mode sucks when you lose the phone). I got to my top place that I thought it would be, and there she was, just a quarter-size visible in the snow, waiting for rescue. With exuberance I called Rachel and screamed, "Guess what I am calling you on?" It was sheer exhilaration, catapulting me into a snowshoeing jog to my car. I know it is such a small thing to experience sadness and happiness about, but losing and finding the cell phone was representative of so much more, it was highly symbolic of my life in general.

Author's note: Alternate blog title - A Beautiful Day. I found my cell phone, it was a balmy 30 degrees - so hot and sunny that I drove home from my treasure hunt in a tank top, and my garage door opened when I pushed the button (he had refused to work for the last week because it was so cold here).

Wisconsin the Morning After

Last night as I traveled to a friend's for the game, I drove past the bank tower that always flashes between the temperature in Celsius, the time, and the temperature in Fahrenheit. It is a mainstay on my drive around my town. Today, I was in shock as it registered -12. Now -12 is cold, but the more disappointing fact was that the clock was frozen, all it would say was -12. First that disappointment, and then the game. It was unfortunate, not earth-shattering, but unfortunate. It is hard to see your team lose, even if no one ever expected them to go as far as they did.

The World is Off My Back

I finally finished Atlas Shurgged, what a huge relief. After I finished, I made sure to go to the library. Instead of mind-throbbingly intellectual and boring, I decided to go for easy reads. I had a great weekend, taking each day to read one of the Sisterhood books. They were really good. I haven't enjoyed reading that much and been moved so greatly in many months. Now my only problem is waiting for three and four to come back to the library. Read people, read.

Closet Confession

Every time I walk into my closet, I feel relief and a little bit of hope. It is an odd sensation, but looking at my closet makes me feel like everything is going to be all right. With a little bit of work and baby steps, things will become orderly and make sense.

Let me explain. My house is a mess. Slovenly comes to mind. It creeps up on me, and I get overwhelmed. Suddenly the dish in the sink becomes twenty. The two or three letters on the table become three weeks of unopened mail (Note: USPS is not a reliable way of reaching me). The shoes on the rug by my front door become a heap representing the amount of footwear for a small village. And then there is the table – along with the mail is a collage of scarves, gloves, books and DVDs to return to the library, and all sizes and colors of purses surrounded by chairs enveloped with all the coats I own. The task of cleaning becomes seemingly insurmountable.

The next difficulty comes when I actually start the cleaning. The previous paragraph of battle zones diverts me. Before I can vacuum, I need to pick up the shoes; before I can clean the table, I need to open and file away all of the mail, reorganize my wall of purses (yeah, I said wall - socks, purses, and underwear are my favorite things to collect with fourth prize going to shoes, have you seen my blue, rhinestone, Chinese heels?), and hang up my jackets and stack the scarves and gloves in their cubbies while wondering if I should just start using paper plates. So stage one of cleaning becomes organizing, filing, and putting back everything to its right place. I get stuck in stage one.

This weekend I started upstairs, avoiding the pitfalls of the table downstairs from the start. I unpacked my suitcases from my trip out to Portland and redistributed the proper travel accoutrements to their specific travel bags. Next I cleaned off my bathroom counter by throwing, shelving and stuffing the cosmetic arsenal. Moving rooms, I filed away all the bills I had on my computer desk. Then I packed away all of the clean clothes. The whole time I was packing away my clothes, I was wondering if I should organize them. I knew it would be a huge diversion, so I just stuffed the socks into their drawer without separating them according to holiday and then arranging them by color.

Scanning the floor and rods, I grabbed every unemployed hanger, throwing them into the now barren basket and delaying only minutes dividing the pants from the skirts and separating the shirts by sleeve length. Straying a bit more, I stripped the mattress, comforter and pillows of their covers, smothering the hangers. Back on task, I began folding the clothing bags and boxes for removal and shoveling the clothes on the closet floor into the now engorged basket. Then, I saw something weird and noticed something uncanny: my closet has carpeting.

Utterly in shock at the development, I had to take a break and re-orientate myself. Later, I opened my closet door, and the sigh of accomplishment and relief was probably heard down the road. Yes, I knew the socks and underwear were all heaped together in their respective drawers; I understand bras really aren’t meant for tie rack hooks; I acknowledge not all of the clothes fit; and, I know I still have work to do, but I had carpeting. It was unperfect (excuse the term), but after closing the door and jumping into a newly made bed, I realized it was a start, a step in the right direction of cleaning up my life.

To Join or Not?

I am in a quandary. I don't know if I should join a health club or not. Let me be more honest. I should join a health club or at least make an attempt at exercising, but I wonder if I will follow through and make it worthwhile.

I am thinking that by joining the club, I will at least be more prone to exercise for two major reasons. 1) The exercise facility is indoors, but has variety of the type that is not exercise videos. 2) I will be guilted into exercising because the thought of throwing my money away on something I am not using will really annoy me.

Reasons why I am not prone to exercise at the club or exercise in general: 1) I would probably want to wear shorts, and shaving is such a chore. Plus, I believe there is such a thing known as indecent exposure in a public place. 2) Sitting on my couch eating cookies or ice cream or candy bars is a lot more fun. 3) It isn't that I don't have time, but what time would be best? If I sub, I can't do morning, if I work at UPS, night would be too late. 4) Working out may make me think that I should curb my chocolate consumption to less than a pound a week. That sacrifice would be way too huge. 5) Why should I pay to exercise?

The last question is always the reason why I resist joining. I mean, if I am not motivated to do something healthy, will the guilt really get me to the gym, or will it just make me feel like a failure with a little less money to spend on chocolate? Any suggestions?

Tonight

I made my favorite cookies tonight. This time I actually made them correctly. It shocked me how much better they tasted and cooked when I made them according to the directions, it must have been a fluke.

I had made the cookies a few days earlier, but gave them away at various stops during New Year's Eve. I ended up coming home realizing I had only saved two for myself, and that was just not sufficient. The other reason I made cookies was getting over the terror of being yelled at by the librarian.

Let me explain. You might have read my tirade about the library and the man who was asking too many questions and being too noisy. The library is a quiet, safe refuge - or at least it should be. It is not a place where I should be made to feel stupid and like I am a huge burden.

I have been struggling with Atlas Shrugged; it is long (1170 pages). Usually length isn't necessarily a deterrent, but it is also incredibly hard to get interested in. I just am struggling connecting with it. So, I checked out the book in early November with another book. Naturally, I started the smaller book first and returned it once I finished it. When I returned the book, I naturally renewed Atlas a little early since I hadn't even started it. However, before I got to starting it, I picked up two different books about gender and boys and completed them. Then, I read a historical fiction book while I summoned courage to attack Rand. I actually started reading it about a week before it was due for the second time. At that point I knew that the book would take me longer than a week, so I waited to the very last day and renewed it again.

So yesterday, after being diligent over the whole Christmas holiday, I went to the library, I was just about to start the Part III of the book (still around 300 pages to go). I had decided that since you can only renew a book twice, I would return the book and then check it back out. I handed the book in, went on the internet, looked at movies, looked at new releases and then back up to the desk. Seeing that she had scanned the book back in, I asked for it. She told me I could have it if there was no hold on it, then she handed me the book and says snidely, "You better finish it this time." I was shocked, and not happy at all. Needless to say, all I could think was, I should've paid the overdue fee and just kept it until I was done. Which made me recall my mom and her story about my sister . . . but I will leave my mom's token stories for another day.