Christmas 2007

Since Derek was born Christmas Eve, we delayed celebrating Christmas till today.  

I really wanted a food scale for Christmas, my sister got me what I wanted.  I weighed all of my various presents.  Then, since Derek has been losing weight, we decided to weigh him.  He looks pretty cute.

 

Mike, Jen and Derek

All right, it goes against all of our instincts, but we bought a Raiders outfit for Derek.  Mike is a huge fan, so we decided to be generous due to the Christmas season; however, Derek is a Packers fan first.

Lucky doesn't quite know what to do with the newest addition. 

Okay, my whole family laughed about this picture, apparently, I was the one who had the baby, I look huge!  We took another picture, it ended up looking like I wasn't 7 months pregnant.

I'm an auntie!

Michael Derek!

December 24th, 2007 @ 2:37 P.M.

19 1/2 inches

6 pounds, 7 ounces

A Different Sort of Christmas Eve

Luckers woke me up at 2 A.M.  Like any good aunt, I took her out, while upstairs I was utterly bewildered to see that Mike and Jen's door was open.  The little one tinkled, then we headed back downstairs to my bed.  A few hours later, she woke up again, so we headed back upstairs. While Lucky was out, I headed towards the bathroom, on my way there, I see that my parents' bedroom door is open.  My dad starts talking to me, so I head into his room.  There where my mom should be is an empty space.  "Where's mom?" 

"Oh, they went to the hospital in the middle of the night, but they woke you up to see if you wanted to go."  Now, I know that I am a sound sleeper, but I thought that I would at least remember to wake up and recognize or at least recall a few hours later that my sister was in labor.  I mean, really, what kind of a sister am I that just doesn't even recall her sister going into labor.  

After feeding the doggies and taking them on an extra long walk (I code named the walk operation exhaust the doggies so that they don't get into trouble while Jen is in labor), my dad and I headed in the minivan to the hospital.  Next conquest, the GPS program, I was told by my mother that it was programmed into the system . . . it wasn't.  Mike and Jen had previously pointed to the hospital on one of our expeditions, so I just winged it and got to the hospital - and the right entrance - with no wrong turns.

After a couple of hours and some cards, that little boy is a little bit too big, so my sister is having a C-section.  I have experienced my mom and dad having major surgeries, but never my sister, it isn't a cool feeling at all.  I hate the feeling of not being in control and being unable to "do" anything.  The anticipation and queasy feeling every time the door opens is discombobulating.  Just waiting as the minutes tick by, with no one telling you anything, just frustrates me.

So, I guess Multnomah Falls is off of the itinerary for the day.  Pray for my sister, Mike, the baby, the recovery and that the doggies (who am I kidding, I mean Lucky) are extra good during the next few weeks as everyone adjusts. 

Cannon Beach

We headed to the beach today.  For me, the beach means swimsuit and warm weather; here, beach means water and sand.  We drove to the beach and took a quick walk on the sand.  We then went for fish and chips.  After lunch we headed back to Portland, but right before we got on the main highway back, we got a extra special surprise, elk!  At first we thought they were fake because they were so perfectly aligned and still, but they were real so we all poured out of the mini van and took some pictures.  

Still no baby . . . 

Portland

I got to Portland at 4 a.m. on Friday.  After sleeping in a little bit, I headed out with my sister for a walk with the doggies.  It was great! I have missed my little Lucky so much.  She assaulted all of us when we got to the house with her kisses - I even got kisses from Alex.

This morning I woke up to Lucky crying outside of my room, she had just gone on a walk, and apparently spending twenty minutes away from me was a little bit too much.  

Newborn

I held a newborn baby yesterday. I haven't had a ton of experience with newborns. To be honest, they scare me a little bit, they are so tiny and fragile and mysterious. Plus, I really don't think babies like me that much.

She was adorable though, I couldn't believe that less than 24 hours before she was still in her mommy's tummy. The thing that was really amazing is I visited with one of my friends who had a baby in April. Her little girl was crawling around, pulling herself up to a standing position, and just looking wide-eyed at the baby. How can all that happen in less than a year? It is miraculous.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

The world (at least around me) looks like a Winter Wonderland. It has been snowing all day, not a blinding and bustling type of snow, but a slow, steady encroachment on the ground. Earlier when I looked outside, there were the biggest flakes I had ever seen. Now, outside of my window looks like a snow globe or a stereotypical picture of what snow is supposed to look like. It is beautiful. The pine trees’ boughs are laden, everything is newly white, and mounds of snow awaiting children in hats, mittens and scarves abound everywhere one looks.

Two Notes from the Day

I was subbing today. It always amazes me at some of the conversations I hear during the day. For instance, a couple of girls were talking about going overseas this coming summer. They were basically shopping the different churches or organizations in the area to see what group was going to the best spot. Besides how disturbing the idea of shopping for a mission trip like it was a new pair of jeans was, I was amazed at how these girls were planning to go/had gone to Africa, but they didn't know if one could drive to Menomonee Falls. I was flabbergasted. It is as if the pendulum has swung the opposite direction, instead of not knowing important global issues and places, these girls didn't even know their backyard. It seemed like a farce to me.

Secondly, I went to my parents' house after subbing. After chatting for a few minutes with my mom about my father's latest antics and me attacking the chocolate stash, we decided to play speed Scrabble. I was first introduced to the game by Meg's family. The first time I played I remember being a little bit overwhelmed, but having a lot of fun. We all quietly worked on our various boards with an occasional GO or quick question on spelling. Playing the game with my mom is different - and always hilarious. I end up feeling like I spend as much time looking at her board as I do looking at my own. She is continually asking questions or making comments- How do you spell *enter various word*? Is ** a real word? I think you rigged the game. But you just said go. With each of her interjections, I look over at her board, spell a word, tell her that ** isn't a real word, but ** is, and try to figure out how we can improve her words to better her board. After what seems like a few minutes, but probably is just a quarter of a minute, I realize that I should probably get back to my own part of the game. She cracks me up. The thing that amazes me is that she hates speed Scrabble, but she plays. I don't know how mothers can be so unselfish.

Hunkering Down

Today we received our first big snowstorm and advice to not go anywhere unless you have to. I kind of laughed at the warning. I mean, I live in WI, it isn't like it is DE or FL or WA or other places that shut down with a couple of inches of snow.

I dragged myself out of bed this morning to watch the snow as I made myself food. On days like these, I actually don't mind the warning telling me not to go anywhere. It gives me an excuse for what I really want to do: hunker down in a big sweatshirt, wrap myself in a down comforter and only move to make more hot chocolate.

Internet User from Hell and Other Random Notes

I have been doing my Internet stuff from the library of late for various reasons. I am currently checking e-mails, blogs, and catching up. The guy next to me though is trying to kill me. In the last 14 minutes, I have heard at least twenty questions from his mouth to the library lady about all sorts of what I consider asinine questions. She really doesn't have control over the American Airlines website. The great thing about the library is that it should be quiet. All one should hear is the tapping of computer keys and the flipping of pages, not the, "Oh, shoot, " and mumbling that is exiting this man's mouth! Sorry, I know this is a bit of a tirade, but really.

This Thanksgiving weekend was good. We played the annual football game. Not to toot my own horn, but I actually represented myself well on the field - even if I am still sore. I think the older I get the more important I realize stretching is, but the less inclined I am to do it because it makes me feel old. The game was small, but it always amazes me how ten years can change so many things, while a lot of things remain the same. Part of me wonders why we haven't changed, while I am happy that it is like old times.

Quick Internet note: the librarian is now using the other side of the library in a quest to avoid the annoying guy next to me.

For those who wish to know, winter has come to Wisconsin. Although I am not going to soliloquize as long on winter as I long as I have on other seasons, I would like to share that I am excited that winter is here. I feel that it is official since we had the first snow that stuck last Wednesday. In addition, I have always decided, regardless of the weather, that winter commences when the flannel sheets go on the bed. Wednesday night found me eagerly jumping into a bed with flannel sheets.

Winter in Wisconsin I feel is like a contest. I have tried to make this contest one that I can endure with the greatest of ease. This means that I can only do certain things when certain conditions exist. First condition, no flannel sheets to Thanksgiving. Then, a slew of other methods to beat the cold ensue along a marked path: implementation of electronic blanket, use of hot water bottle, and piling of extra down comforter on the bed. Only the coldest nights find all in use, but shivering, I make it through.

My dad the other day (Saturday) asked me if I thought we were going to have one last warm up. I looked at him with incredulously, I don't understand how he didn't get the memo that winter is here. I mean my flannel sheets are on the bed, what more is there to say?

Internet update: Dang it! She got sucked in again. I have to get out of here.

Total Boredom

I am currently working. Since this week has been slow at the store, I knew Saturday (a day we don't do a lot of business) was also going to be slow. So, I bought a lot of stuff to work on to keep me entertained. I have currently been here for just over two hours and have managed to get pretty close to caught up on journaling, have purchased Christmas presents for my sister and brother-in-law, and also found what my dad mentioned he wanted for Christmas (just waiting to receive a call from my mom to confirm his really wanting it - he still hasn't used the Ove Glove I got him last Christmas? or two years ago - another present he said he wanted).


The boredom has also spread to eating. I have been subbing a lot lately; thus, my body thinks it is normal to eat lunch at 10.30. I avoided heating up my pork chop, noodles and apricots by eating a chocolate chip cookie.

So, three and a half hours to go.

Is it Wierd?

My sister and I have a special way to buy presents for one another. Our birthdays are eleven days apart; thus, starting a couple of years ago, we came to the agreement of "We will call it even," saving us the trouble of trying to figure out what to get the other.

Regarding Christmas, we usually do something very sneaky. This is how this Christmas purchases have gone thus far. She called me, and we talked for about forty minutes, catching up on job stuff, dog stories, her expanding belly, and life in general. After a little bit, she inquires, "You need to start thinking what you want for Christmas, have you any ideas?"

"Well, actually Bonnie and Kyle were laughing at me the other day because when Bonnie asked me what I wanted, I told her that the only thing I knew I wanted for sure was a food scale."

Side note: When I told Bonnie, she first of all commented that I must be such a fun person to buy things for, but hey I am all about practicality, and it really annoys me when a recipe calls for so many ounces of pasta and I don't know how to measure it. I mean 8 oz to a cup, but how do you cram spaghetti into a cup. I know it is sad, but I had already gone to Target and figured that at $5, it was a realistic gift idea for me. I purposely avoided buying it for myself so someone else could give it to me, and I wouldn't get yelled at by another family member for being so hard to buy for.

"I am going to IKEA tonight, do you want to me to get you one?"

"If it looks cool and is about $5."

"Okay."

The next day I found something that I thought Mike might like. I actually found it a couple of months ago and put it on the "things to consider buying for Christmas" list. Wanting to make sure he liked it, I sent a quick e-mail to my sister asking her to check it out. At the same time, I asked her what she wanted.

I received an e-mail back saying the gift looked good for Mike, and a list of a couple of things my sister wanted. A few minutes later, I had everything ordered. Plus, to save myself carting it out to Portland, I sent it to my sister's right away so if there is any baby related stuff we need to bring, I will have that much extra room. So, head's up Jen, your presents are on the way the label says to hold them for me.

I don't know when this exactly started. I remember the clearest example a couple of Christmases ago (how do you pluralize that?) where I told my sister a few requirements for what I wanted. 1. I wanted a pair of slip on shoes. 2. They had to be unique and funky looking. 3. I didn't want them to cost more than $20-25. A week later, I ended up giving her the exact pair of shoes that I had managed to find on a website. It wasn't much of a surprise, but it was exactly what I wanted. Besides everyone comments about how cool the shoes are.

Recent Readings

I haven't written about what I have read in quite a while, so I thought I would make a couple quick comments.

First of all, on the cusp of finishing Three Weeks with My Brother, I have a whole new appreciation for Sparks as a person and a writer. I am so impressed, that I am contemplating reading some of the stuff that he is better known for: A Walk to Remember, The Notebook, The Guardian, and Message in a Bottle.

I would recommend this book to anyone, especially if you tend to find the movies spun off from his books as cheesy and unrealistic as I do.

A Thousand Splendid Suns was good. I am in no way dismissing it; however, if you are torn between this and Kiterunner, there is no contest, Kiterunner is, by far, the better novel.

Oh, if you have any recommendations, I would love to know what you think is good to read. In all honesty, I am procrastinating, Atlas Shrugged is a little daunting due to the fact I could kill a man with how big it is.

Mars, Venus and Jupiter, too.

It has been a couple of weeks now since I got some news. I think that is the main reason I haven't posted in so long. I still just don't know what to say, what to think, what to do. I have just been processing through all of the information, my thoughts, feelings, life ramifications.

And after weeks of thinking, I haven't come to a conclusion about the whole thing. I don't think I ever will. While Truth is never mercurial, truth is sometimes difficult to find, buried under people's perspectives - both mental and geographical. Also, truths are sometimes difficult to reconcile with one another. Can a and b both be true when they seem to be utterly contradictory? When does experience color and change truth?

I don't know.

Addendum - especially for Tommy

I just wanted to clear something up since Tommy thinks I am a skank. I was going to write and assure you all that Megan wasn't the one with the mug shot, but she took care of that in the comment section, though I had a great laugh at her comment's lack of clarity. Let me give a little bit of background, due to multiple jobs, and always being in transit, I could, at some times in my life, live out of my car.

So, I guess everyone doesn't know my bra, panties and officer story. I was on my way to work one day when I passed a police officer pulled over to the side, watching a four-way stop. At the stop sign, I gave significant pause. (I have no luck at all with the police. In fact, for the longest time, just as my ticket and points would clear for the year, I would get pulled over again.) As I pull through the intersection, the lights go on. About 20 yards after the intersection, I pull over and get out my license, totally not understanding what I could have done wrong. Did I pause too long? The officer comes up and I hand him my license. He asks me if I know why he pulled me over, and I said no. "Your plates are expired. Can I see your registration?"

"Officer, my plates aren't expired, I just forgot to put the sticker on." Like I am going to freeze my butt off in December putting on a little sticker? No way, granted I should have gotten around to it before August. I reach for my glove compartment and pull out my registration and the little sticker that should have been put on my plate 8 months ago. The thing is, my glove compartment is like my mother's purse - you can find everything in there. So, before I can get to the registration, I have dig out sunglasses, deodorant, and the infamous bra and panties.

As I hand the officer my registration, he grins at me. It suddenly dawns on me that I have sent a pair of undies and my bra flying, a little embarrassed at his smile, I am further humiliated by his comment, "You're prepared." (Or it was something to that extent, it was over a year ago, and I try to suppress embarrassing moments. Jen, do you remember what I told you he said?)

He goes to his squad car, and I shove everything back in my glove compartment. He returns, "You're plates are registered, you are fine to go, only if you promise me you will put on the sticker."

"I will put the sticker on as soon as I get to work."

I got to work, unscrewed the plastic cover, and put on the sticker.

Horrible Pictures

I have had some horrible pictures in my day. For instance, I am thrilled that my passport is to expire next year because my picture looks as if someone blew my face up with a bellows. I have had to use that passport for nearly a decade now, and every time I go anywhere I am dismayed at how tragic a photo it truly is. I mean all over the world I have been seen as "that girl with the obnoxiously fat face, you know, the one who looks like she was an animated character in a sinus commercial."

I don't know if it was how I did my hair that day (I will admit to being vain, I had intentionally curled my hair that day in hopes of having a good picture, maybe my vanity was the reason the universe gave me a horrible picture), the shirt I wore, my fat face or what weird mixture of the above made the photo so horrendous. But there it is, thankfully it will be rectified next year.

Then there is my dmv photo. My hair in uncurled, but somehow, my face is still fat. In addition, my head is tilted, like Lucky would do when we used a high voice. So, not only is it bad enough that they ask you your weight, but then as you are still reflecting whether you should have lied or not, snap, your fate is determined for the next 8 years. 8 years. 2014 - maybe I'll mysteriously lose my license (no, I am way too cheap to pay for a replacement). Quickie marriage? I should probably just deal with the bad photo. Compounded with that, you only have to show your license in some really uncool situations i.e. when the police officer pulls you over and before you know it, he has seen your bra, panties, and horrible picture.

All these thoughts on bad pictures began when I saw the mug shot of someone I knew. Why is it that like the dmv and passport photos, one needs to be totally demoralized at this juncture? Like getting arrested isn't bad enough, you also have to get a picture for the whole world to see that makes you look like you don't know where the camera is. I mean what do the police do, wake you up in the middle of the night for your picture, hoping to get you looking like you are stoned? Or maybe they say, "One, Two, Look Lost and Don't Smile." Click.

How can you make a leader board without any points?

My friend Matty just sent me this link.

http://www.milwaukeelawnbowls.org/results.php

In it, it reflects the leader board for the various standings of tournaments and other lawnbowling competitions. The sport was a little harder than anticipated, similar to bocce ball, but with a twist - the ball curls as you bowl it.

Inititally, I thought it was pretty cool to have my name there, but now I just feel like a loser. Sadly, not only do I have zero points (they misspelled my last name, too), but I have negative "Plus Points."

Up Nort'

This weekend I had the chance to have a girl's weekend in a wonderful cabin. We began Friday afternoon and I was reminded how much I love driving up towards the Twin Cities; the area around Eau Claire just stuns me with its beauty - especially now with the vibrant fall colors. All of us were awestruck as we peered out the windows and just let our eyes absorb the rolling hills and colors. It was truly beautiful to see the reds, oranges, yellows and browns.

Anyways, it was a great weekend, even if I do need a break from Jane Austen (we watched Pride and Prejudice (the 5 hour version), Emma, and Sense and Sensibility. I love the chance to be in a place where there is no sound except your footsteps and the jingle of the dogs' collars. It was just so relaxing and beautiful.

Free Time

I am currently subbing for a teacher with a student teacher. This means that I basically have nothing to do all day while the student teacher teaches the class. So I guess I am being paid to catch up on my blog.

3 weeks ago was a pretty stressful time. It was a fun time though since my sister was here and we had baby showers, went to the Packer game, decorated my place a little bit more and just enjoyed being together as a family (we were, however, incomplete since Lucky, Mike and Mike's dog were still in Portland). This is why there was such a huge gap in my blog.

I have, however, finished the really long blog that had kept me from posting so long. It involves customers from hell, it is really long, it took me almost the whole three weeks to get to and type. If you are really bored. I posted it the date of the day after it occured, September 21.

Where is fall?

I am really bitter about the weather. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am. My sister called to complain the other day that it was in the 40’s and 50’s. I long for those temperatures. I am sorry, but it is not right to have 80-degree days in October. Now is the time when I should be happy that I only have to wear a long sleeve shirt instead of the impending long sleeve shirt and sweater. I should be in eager anticipation of the leaves changing color instead of contemplating putting on the air conditioning. I should be waking up shivering as a cool breeze flows over my bed instead of hoping my fan will keep me from sweating under a thin sheet. I really want to start wearing my fall wardrobe, I am sick of my short sleeve shirts. My mother was incredulous the other day when I was in a cardigan on the nearly 90-degree day. But really, what else can I do when the weather is being so obstinate? I wanted to wear a sweater.

Slacker

My sister called me the other day to tell me that I have been a slacker in regards to posting. I must admit I am a little disappointed in myself. I got totally overwhelmed with customers from hell (an über long blog to come in the upcoming days). I apologize, I hate when a blog isn’t updated in a timely manner. And here I am, guilty of the same faux pas.

Piping Travesty Averted

My condo has issues. It started as some water in the basement. The end result was re-plumbing all of the pipes in two bathrooms. Every day I learn of another leak or issue. Every day I came home to a new hole in my bathroom wall. All said and done, I was lucky. I found the leak before it became a huge issue, and the repairs were handled in a speedy manner and the plumber was a Godsend. I don’t know why I am so blessed; it really could have been a plumbing tragedy instead of a plumbing mishap. So, now my biggest issue is deciding what color to paint my bathroom.

Customers from Hell

What follows is not a dramatized and exaggerated story. It is told as closely as possible to what truly occurred, no matter how it makes either party look. It is to a large extent a tirade that I just need to get off of my chest. If you skip the following story (I actually advise it), the moral is don't be a jerk.

Working retail has its shares of ups and downs. I have become used to disgruntled, unhappy, and just rude people. I usually can shake off what they dish out by realizing that they are just rude idiots. I couldn't shake off the following interaction that left me crying in a store full of customers. Talk about awkward - what do you say to the cashier who is crying when you ask for a couple of copies. It was amazing how many people were gracious and how many just wouldn't make eye contact.

A customer walked in the store with his packages. I greeted him and told him that I hadn't seen him in the store lately. He shared that he hadn't been in for a couple of months, because he recently had hip replacement (the guy is college age). I asked him if his packages were going to Canada (as he had shipped multiple packages there in the past). He replied no and commented that I had a good memory. The interaction was going well.

I began by asking if the packages were going to a business or a residence. He replied a home business. I then said, OK, I will plug in the address and see what UPS determines the address to be. The customer then asked what the best way to ship two packages to one location would be. I looked at the packages and asked if they could be combined into the box he currently had. He replied no. I said then we could sell you a box that is bigger. I measured the box, and as I said the measurements he told me that the box would have to be bigger than the current box. I told him that the box would be $8.25. He said, "And that would be the shipping charge?". I replied that that was just the boxing charge. He made a comment to the extent that that was ridiculous. He then asked about the shipping charge. I replied it would be $36 (I can't remember the exact numbers). He then complained that that was different than what the internet said it would be. We then began to talk about what shipping estimate form he used (as Ebay is legendary for being way off), and he replied that he used the UPS website. I explained to him that it could be because he didn't measure properly or didn't have the correct weight.

At some point in the conversation, another customer had walked in the store with something to be packaged and sent. I had her begin filling out her paperwork while I continued to work with the current customer. The customer asked how much his other package would cost. After measuring the box, I told him it would be $12. He said that wasn't the price he was quoted on the internet. At this point he asked if we had the internet and if we could check the UPS rates. I told him we did and plugged in all of the numbers. The internet price came up as two dollars less. He asked if I was going to give him that price. I said I was unable to give him that price because I couldn't give him any other price then what was in our system.

He then asked why I put in the estimate that the package was 4 pounds when it was 3.85. I explained to him that UPS always rounds up to the next pound. He told me that what I was doing was illegal because I wasn't giving him the advertised price. The women in the store pipes up that it is illegal. I explain to the customer that UPS and the UPS Store are not the same company, and that although, the prices ought to be the same, I could do nothing about the prices that were advertised by another company. He was not happy with that explanation. The women in the store says that she is Bonnie's (my boss) friend and that my boss is nice (my inference - you (employee who won't give this price) then are a *itch). He then asks about the postal rate. She follows up his comment with, "Yes, you should give him that price." I told the man that it was $15 to go through USPS. She then follows that quickly up with, "If I was you, I would be calling Bonnie." She might have included a young lady in her address.

I explained to them that Bonnie was on vacation but I would give her a call. I explain to Bonnie that a customer was in the store and was complaining about the discrepancy between the prices. She explained to me that she could not charge anything other than the computer (what I had already explained to the customer). I asked her if she would explain this to him. I thanked Bonnie when I got the phone back and figured the problem was handled. He looked at me and said, "I just don't understand why the prices are different."


A little taken aback because Bonnie had just explained, I said, "As I was saying before ..." only to be interrupted by the lady in the store saying I was being sarcastic. I told her I was not being sarcastic. (Brief side point: In all honesty, I wasn't being sarcastic. For those who know me, I know I can be sarcastic, but I know its time and place in retail (pretty much never). I may have been condescending while having to explain the same thing for the third time, but that is not the same as sarcasm.)

So, after a few more minutes and Bonnie calling to ask if everything is okay (I couldn't answer since he was still there), the end result is the customer didn't want to spend that much, so he left. After looking up the other customer's number to ensure that we had the address in the computer, I headed towards the packaging area, she told me that she wanted change once I got a chance and she still had a card to put in the package. I began wrapping everything in bubble wrap, since everything (with the exception of two bags of candy) was breakable, and then measured for the correct box size once I had added on for peanuts. The box was big, I brought the box to the front and she commented in a skeptical voice, "That it was an awfully big box." I explained to her that since everything was breakable, I had to bubble wrap and peanut everything. She snottily replied, "Candy is not breakable, and I still need change."

Taking it in stride, I said, "You are correct, the candy wasn't breakable, so I put it in the candy packages in the candy dish to save on space." I then gave her two tens, so she could put those in the card for her granddaughters (My justification: if you had told me earlier that we were waiting for the change to put in the card, I would have done it right away, I can't read your mind, and my job is not to give you change because you don't have two tens for your granddaughters). Bonnie calls again, I tell her I am still unable to talk.

I then gave her the price for the shipping and boxing. "That costs more than the present."

I replied, "Unfortunately, that often ends up being the case." I saved the estimate for the shipping charges and began to ring up her charges. She interrupts me and asks that we make sure the address is correct. I go into the other part of the computer system and re-look up the address and ensure her that it is the correct address (Note: why wouldn't you have me check last time I looked up the address for you???)

She looks at me and tells me that I need to be more patient. I explained to her that I was sorry, that no one had ever complained about me being impatient with them. She continues to tell me that she wouldn't tell me this, except there are no other customers in the store (I guess calling me out on doing something illegal and sarcastic is okay). I continue to ring her up as she continues to talk; at my wit's end of her berating my service and character, I begin to cry (if you are reading this, you know how often people see me cry). As I hand back the change, she says, "I didn't mean to make you cry."

In a matter of what voice I reply, "Well, it is too late now."

"There you go again with that sharp tongue." Another customer enters the store. Now, (probably feeling guilty that I am crying now with an additional customer in the store), she takes my left wrist with her right hand, and uses her left hand to pat my left hand and starts saying things to try and comfort me. She is acting all grandmotherly by patting my hand, but at the same time, she is holding on to me and basically telling me (with her body language), "You will listen to me."

Another customer comes in. The customer from hell leaves. While handling the next customer, yet another customer comes in. Bonnie calls again, she asks if I am okay, I say no, and she hears the distress in my voice. So there are three people in the store and the thing I find so amazing is how different personalities react to seeing someone cry. As alluded to before, one women wouldn't even look me in the face, another one asks if I was okay, the other just looks bewildered, like what do you do when the cashier is crying. Eventually everyone is out of the store, and I take a minute to compose myself. I look behind me and there is a mound of packages around me that I need to finish (when we get busy in the store, we estimate the shipping charges on every package and then go back and actually ship the packages as soon as there is time).

After a few minutes of no one in the store, the back door opens and Bob walks in the store. I sounded so bad on the phone, Bonnie called her husband to come for moral support. I briefly explain the situation, and he begins to tape packages and do anything he can to help me out. The flow of customers continues to come, he just looks at me amazed and asks, "Where are all these people coming from?"

After a little while, Bob sees that I am all caught up and looks at me, tells me to keep on doing a good job (since the customer from hell left, one customer had come in gushed to Bob about how helpful I was), and he heads out. I leave twenty minutes after we close, I head to coffee with my sister and Dave. I am so keyed up, I can't even talk about how stressful and frustrating the situation was until two hours into coffee, and then only in wide, sweeping generalizations.

I go home only to remain with my stomach churning for the next 4 and 1/2 hours keeping me up till 2:30, which makes me even more annoyed since I know I have to open the store tomorrow morning

If you read this whole thing, Wow! Thanks for listening to my tirade and sorry for the poor writing. You should really get back to work now.

Shoot Me Now

I have a nasty little habit – I get sucked in by love stories. I am such a sap. As unrealistic as it is, I love the idea of happily ever after. Yesterday morning I started a romance (Thank God I haven’t descended into the abyss as far as Danielle Steele; and, to my credit, I didn’t realize it was a romance when I got it), and I continued it when I returned home after work. I kept on reading, despite the clichés, despite the fact that I shouldn’t be reading that late into the night, and despite the fact that it was horribly edited.

The last despite is the one that gets me the most. I know my blogs are probably plagued with typographical and grammatical errors (please feel free, actually, I ask, no implore you to point them out to me), but my blogs aren’t in hardcover. I know that doesn’t excuse my poor grammar, spelling and punctuation; but, I also wasn’t paid, and I definitely can say that I have never been published. I just can’t imagine missing that many things in a published book that people are actually purchasing (I got mine from the library, making it even more tragic). Plus, I am not talking about ending sentences with a preposition or other grammatical rules that are being phased out in our cultural idiocy and desire for ease. I am talking about screwing up tenses, forgetting words, not acknowledging that something is in question form, and just not using commas. Every time I found a mistake, it just grated on my nerves, but somehow, I was drawn into the vortex of wanting to know how the love story ended. How ridiculous is that? (I contemplated not putting a question mark at the end of the last sentence in hopes that someone might publish me.) I knew how it would end, because romances always follow the same path – girl and boy meet, girl and boy hurdle obstacles with the greatest of ease, and girl and boy end up together. And like a cow being herded, this one followed the pack.

During college I swore off romantic comedies for a while. They were just too depressing in the sense that they elevated my expectations while revealing that there was no knight in shining armor – at least not for me in Upland, Indiana. Els and I were just reflecting on Sense and Sensibility (typical love story), and how we love how Elinor has no hope of being with Edward, but in the end, they get together. Why do I love the fact that she suffers? I remember when I first watched S&S someone mentioned that most girls fit the type of one of the three daughters. I was horrified that my sister said I was an Elinor. Who would ever want to be the one who suffers silently, the one who has no hope, the one who only cares for making others happy, the one who has to befriend the usurper of her happiness, and the one who makes it possible for someone else’s dream to come true while her dream is squashed? I don’t think that it was so much the fact that it was true that I was an Elinor that bothered me, but the ramifications of what that meant.

Is there a difference between truth and its ramifications?

Fall is Here!!

I know I commented about loving summer, but fall in Wisconsin is pretty great, too.

For instance, jumping out of bed into your slippers and running to close all of the windows before your body freezes in your 56 degree house. Slithering back under the covers with a book after the previous sub-Arctic run. Standing in the sunshine for just a few extra seconds to warm up. The anticipation of fall colors. Finally getting to football season and subs. Laughing so hard you cry from stories about football read on Bob and Brian. Knowing when you look outside that the sun shining means nothing regarding temperature. A rainbow of autumnal colors and foliage reports (Tom and Katy, according to Wisconsin foliage reports, I think late September to early October will be best for Fall camping). Knowing that everything green is in transition. Take a hike today so that in a few weeks you really appreciated the changing temperature and colors.

1st grade memories

My favorite memory by far was finding the silver egg in the wooden tool box during our Easter egg hunt. I also loved looking into the cookie jar to see if today was a snack day because our teacher decided to make us treats. Of course, there was the tooth chart where you got to put your name every time you lost a tooth. (I think my greatest academic failure was never getting a chance to put my name on the chart - my teeth were late bloomers.) Hunkering down for story time on bean bags also tops the list. Plus, there was the store you created to learn about economics. Pancakes and syrup in the fall as Pilgrims and Indians. And finally, going out into the hallway to read with a friend's mom in the cardboard enclosed reading area. But all of those memories were created and facilitated by my teacher, Mrs. Graham.

I was working today when my 1st grade teacher walked into the store. I have two comments regarding this encounter. First, I am old. When I asked her if she taught at Swallow, she replied that she retired back in '92 (fifteen years ago!). I was not in her last class, actually, I graduated from Swallow as an 8th grader the next year. Secondly, I was looking at her as a woman who is slightly taller than I, as you all know then, she is short. The thing is, as a six year old, I thought she was a giant.

No longer invincible

I am not going to say much, mainly because I don't feel like I could write anything to really capture my feelings, but it has been ten years. I can't believe how much has occurred since I was sobbing in my dorm room ten years ago, yet it seems like I can remember the pain clearly and time has sped by so fast. It was a moment that changed my thinking, we were no longer invincible, we were no longer living in a golden age. It was a moment that changed friendships and memories and lives.

Dreamweaver

Last night I had the weirdest dream. I hardly ever remember my dreams, so when I do, I take note.

I was back in high school and was a student director of a show. I was in turmoil because one of my students had been arrested for some reason right before the big show and another of the girls was having a hard time in life and was crying. Typical high school, right?

Well, the curtain rises and the police bring my one student back. It wasn't because he was wrongfully accused, but because apparently there is a clause that allows minors to leave jail to sing in musical performances. In an weird, God works all things for good kind of way (this is what I as a director was thinking), the juvenile delinquent now takes the main singing role of the boy who just got stage fright. But the j.d. can do this because he has no fears since he will be in jail and won't have the scorn of his friends. So the curtain rises, and I tell the crying girl as she and I are lounging on a couch, if this is too much for her, to just tell me. She assures me she will be okay as we listen to the opening act which happens to be in Spanish. Now my Spanish is a little rusty, but my key lines of translation are, "I am going to spend all of my money at the mall," and "I love Keanu Reeves."

That's all.

Two down, one to go

I finished Season Two of 24 yesterday. No complaints.

Gotta Love those Swedes

Mecca, the Promised Land, whatever you call it, I was there Friday.

The blue and yellow just beckon to me and invite me in.

Although I am neither pregnant, a foreigner nor a college student, I still love IKEA.

Where else can you and a friend eat well for $2.50?
Where else can you get a vegetable/parmesan peeler that is life changing?
(I got one in China as a memento of my trip, but I had to get another because I always use mine! What if it would break? How could I survive?)
Where else can you go that reminds you of so many happy memories?

As soon as I got home, I began to assemble my purchases. I don’t know why, but there is something so empowering and fulfilling about putting together a piece of furniture. I know that probably makes me completely unrealistic and a nerd, but it gives me a sense of accomplishment. I remember when Jen and I put together her whole library; every time I went in I thought about how I was part of it.

A Flurry of Activity

I have Els coming into town this weekend. I have been in a flurry of activity to get my place clean enough to be inhabitable (sorry Els, it still isn't perfect). Last night I decided that, without a doubt, making the bed is my least favorite endeavor. If I ever get married, he will definitely be in charge of that.

I have also been busy decorating. I decided that after 3 1/2 years at my place that I should maybe hang something besides a calendar on my walls (incidentally, the calendar has at times been two months behind). The various pictures are all along the floor where they might go, I have huge commitment issues, and putting a nail in the wall is a type of permanence that sometimes scares me. What if I don't like it? There will be this huge hole (because it will take me forever to spackle it) demonstrating my failure and/or indecisiveness.

Party Like it is 1999

Earlier this year my Sudoku calendar broke. I was left with a huge chunk attached to the stand and a huge pack of puzzles. As I looked at the date, I thought August 24 was forever away, and now it is here. How does time move so fast and so slow at the same time?

I remember thinking about how 1999 was so far away. The concept of partying like it was 1999 was so ridiculous. Now it is ridiculous because the turn of the century seems like ages ago.

Am I the only one who is grappling with the concept of time?

Free Boxes

Okay, I think I just discovered one of the coolest things ever. Thinking it is so cool highlights how strapped I have been for joy and happy moments of late.

Let me begin by giving some background. Almost a year ago my sister moved cross-country. Since I had read on some of my friends' blogs about the trouble they had finding boxes, I immediately began the hunt. A restaurant was moving in next to where I work, so I went to the restaurant (after seeing tons of boxes in the garbage) and asked them to hold all of their boxes for me.

Since another one of my friends is moving, I went to the restaurant again. He won't have as many boxes as he did when stocking a whole bar, so he gave me a call to tell me that the nearby grocery store had a ton in the foyer. I went over and asked if I could take the boxes. After a call, a customer service rep came to me and directed me to the customer service desk where I can order boxes. I gave them my name and asked for 25 small-to-medium boxes. Not only is it free, but I can pick up the boxes tomorrow. In all the stress of moving, how nice to just go to your local grocery and order the boxes. It is a win-win, they don't throw them away, and my friends can move in boxes that are free.

Long and short of this blog: Do I just leave in a Wonderland or do other grocery stores do this? I have never heard of it.

Jeopardy

Okay, last week was celebrity jeopardy week. Along with college and teen week, celebrity jeopardy makes me feel smart. It also really irritates me that they are making so much money (from their celebrity status) and can't even answer some simple questions. I know I am not the smartest person in the world, and intelligence can't be gauged by trivia, but come on.

I think it was the fact that I watched two episodes in a row (yeah, I tape them, I know I am a geek), but I was really ticked during the second one when the Secretary of Education was participating. She just made me feel like I understand why we aren't doing so well in comparison to other countries in regards to education. Plus, it just really annoys me that I am not passing on my knowledge. I want a teaching job!

Update on 24

Okay, we finished the first season of 24. It was pretty incredible. I thought Terry would survive until at least season 2. Guess not.


I must admit that 7 episodes was a little much. The real problem was when Rachel and I realized that we also had 4 more episodes on the DVD. After a panicky call to Els (she first recommended the show to me), we learned that we had the beginnings of season 2. So, what else was there to do but watch the first two episodes and make it a total of 9 for the day?

Thus, I have watched season 1, 4, 5, 6. The real question is if Rachel and I can get in seasons 2 and 3 (Rachel also has to get in 4) before January.

An Exciting New Blog

I have been telling my sister since she became preggers that she had to get a blog to keep us updated on the little bambino. She finally did! One of my girlfriend's from college has one that she updates with her adorable kids, and now, I'll get to see my sister's little one, too!

So, here is their blog if you want to check it out.
http://www.mikeandjensnews.blogspot.com/
And check it often, because I already know if it is a boy or a girl, and they will soon be posting the news. Oh, FYI, it will also be listed on the left.

24

Rachel and I have been watching the first season of 24. After the first night, we decided four episodes in a row might be a little too much. So, instead of watching less than four in a row, we adjusted our schedule. We watch one, eat during the second, lounge and digest during the third, take a walk between three and four, dessert during number four, and one night we even went for number five. So, we have 7 episodes left - bringing us to deciding we need to complete it this Sunday. We figure we could get 2 episodes in if we skip church, but thought that might be taking our desire for 24 a little too far.

On a sort of side note, every episode in the first season we see someone who is on a different t.v show now. Eli is on Prison Break as the psycho guy. Bob? is a guard on Prison Break and kills the psycho. Random girl driver is Abi on NCIS. Rick's girlfriend/roommate is Ameda from Numbers. Senator Palmer is obviously on The Unit. Oh, and the guy who says there is a conspiracy and gets killed giving the key card to Jack is on The Unit. I like crossover, like how so many from Felicity ended up on Alias. It cracks me up that Alex from Grey's was Mossimo in The Wedding Planner. Wow, I watch way too much t.v. and too many movies.

Side note number two is the fact that Jack/Keifer looks so young on the first season. Rachel and I crack up on the beginning of each episode where Jack says that this is the longest day of his life, because we know that there are 6 seasons so far, so he has at least five more longest days of his life.

How much for the protractor?

I think I should be banned from OfficeMax during the next month. I just came from there and ended up getting 10 folders and 3 packs of crayons. Now, if I had a teaching job, it wouldn't phase me because these are all things that I should have in my classroom to be prepared for any scenario (i.e. student threatens to slap you, "Would you like a red or yellow crayon?"). It wasn't even the whopping 13 cents that I spent, it is the fact that I don't have a teaching job. Thus, the folders will get added to the artist set I recently bought for my non-existent classroom.

I don't know how I managed it, but the last two times I was in OfficeMax I successfully avoided the filler paper trap - though every fiber of my being was aching for college rule. I love school supplies. I love being in school. I know that makes me a nerd, but I love buying binders, sheet protectors, and pens of all colors for note taking. I still have every single note that I took during my college classes. I hate to admit it, but I have my high school notes.

The school schedule just makes me happy. Weeks off during the summer and Christmas, random days throughout the year for you to connect and re-cooperate. I just wasn't made to work full-time in summer, it is killing me.

Pride Rears Its Ugly Head Again

I don't know how I manage it. I mean you would think that someone who doesn't have a full-time job by the age of 28, is totally out of shape, and has little to no social life couldn't have anything to be prideful about, but it still manages to surprise me when it pops up.

I spent last week in Colorado. It was a major kick in the butt - both physically and spiritually. Every day I think I had a little (and sometimes big) battle with pride. Why is it so hard to put me aside? I am not that great, so it should be easier, shouldn't it?

I wanted to be a great example to the students, I love outdoorsy stuff. I feel like it is my element, I pride myself on being able to climb mountains, carry a canoe, rock climb and camp. But somehow, everything I tried to do, I failed at - even the simple stuff. It really annoyed me. I wanted to do better, not so much for them, I realized, but for me. Laying in the bottom of the cave, I realized it wasn't about me, that I could be an example without successfully navigating the bottomless pit. I think leadership is one of the places that you can quickly see how selfish you are.

I think I needed to fail, yet again, just to realize that I can't do the things that I have always depended on being able to do. I think the best way to get me to listen was for God to let me just miserably fail at every possible athletic attempt. I completely realize that I am out-of-shape, but even the things that didn't require anything but not being stupid, I failed at.

So, why after all the failures and rejections can I still be prideful? How can that be possible?

I ate my weight in wings

I knew I would regret the decision, but they were really good, and the boys just kept on ordering more. I have decided that when I go back (when being the key word), I will keep track of how many I can eat before realizing I have gone too far. Overall, besides the fact that I was in a crabby mood, it was a good time. Plus, I feel like it was an accomplishment to have two baskets of fries, 150 wings and drinks consumed in such a fine manner.

Not really writer's block

I have been pretty busy this week trying to get ready for the trip to Colorado next week while going on blind dates, lawnbowling, Bible study and general craziness. So, best case scenario is the 25th for the next blog.

Is it semantics?

I have become what I can only refer to as a teaching whore; I think the rest of the world refers to it as networking.

I work part-time in a retail store and see many customers each day. As someone who is desperate to have a teaching job, it is amazing how many people I have talked to in an attempt to get leads on jobs. My boss (her husband is in education) started it all. While talking to customers, who she has found out are teachers, she says, "Oh, Alli is a English teacher who is looking for a job. Are there any positions opening up at your school?" It sounds intrusive, but the way she does it is just so natural that it doesn't (anymore) seem weird at all. She probably knows half the town, and uses any contact she has in an attempt to get me an interview. The other day I had a question about following up on an interview. She picked up her phone, called her husband (who was in CA at the time), said, "Alli has a question," and handed me the phone.

My boss also told me about a regular customer who is doing a career change to education. Every time the customer comes in now we talk education, I rejoiced with her when I heard she passed her Praxis tests (I am hoping she will be a good contact in the future).

A teacher in the area comes to ship things for her school. I have had many conversations with her and her husband (a teacher at a school farther away) about upcoming positions at their respective schools.

Since it takes customers some time to fill out paperwork, I have become observant. I struck up a conversation the other day with a guy after seeing his school badge. Similarly, after swiping a customer's credit card (NEA issued), I asked her where she taught. Slightly taken aback at my impressive knowledge, she told me she was retired. We then talked about how hard of an area this is to get teaching jobs. She was kind enough to tell me to move somewhere else because it was basically hopeless to get a job with my certification in this area.

All this because I just struck up a conversation (NEA card again, though he was a dentist, his brother was the teacher) with someone who was a friend of a board member at my old school. He suggested I check out a school in the area once he heard of my background; he has a golfing buddy with the school and thinks they might be hiring. He also told me that he thought NEA stood for National Extortion Association, I chuckled.

Anyone who knows me, knows that besides the observation part, this is totally uncharacteristic of me. I hate networking and the whole concept of needing to know someone to get a job instead of being judged by one's own merit. Heck, I actually even dislike talking to people I don't know well, especially about something that I really want.

So, am I a whore or someone zealously pursuing networking connections to get a job?

Blind Date 101

I have a blind date on Tuesday. So, how do I be me, without being too much of me?

Warning Signs

I have decided that when you meet somebody, they should come with a sign. I feel this way about boys especially. For instance, possible signs

"I am dating someone."
"I am happily dating someone."
"I'll break your heart."
"I am a commitment freak."
"I drink too much."
"I am too young."
"I'll lie to you."
"I see you as a sister."
"Not interested."
"Interested, but shy."
"Wow, this is awkward."
"You're not my type."
"I'm not myself today."

It would make it so much easier. You would know automatically if the interesting and cute guy is also taken. The chief drawback I see with this is my own signage, "Warning: Highly neurotic. If still interested see attached bookcase for full reference."

10 Year Reunion

I just got an evite for my 10 year reunion. Only a school that graduated 69 would attempt an evite. I actually laughed because this is the second try at a reunion. The first reunion was going to be July 21st, and it was changed because (I assume) not many of us check the website under alumni relations to find out if we are having a reunion. I only heard about it when a friend sent me a message expressing her lack of enthusiasm for such a blessed gathering of old friends.

I mean have you ever heard of not sending invitations to a reunion? Other people who graduated from public schools had their invitations months ago. Plus, only like 30 names are on the list for the reunion as far as I could see. I know we had some marriages in our class, but come on. The funny thing is, I can think of at least 12 people with little effort who have a close connection with school in the last 3 years (sibling still attends school, family member works there, he or she worked there). There are 40% of the names on the list. Okay, I need to just breathe before I really get worked up at this asinine attempt at a reunion.

Inventory

We are currently counting inventory. Fun times. Counting thousands of parts just to make all of the changes in the computer. I don't know how a company manages to lose hundreds of things over the course of 6 months - although I did manage to lose two nalgenes last year. At least the days of counting orings are gone.

Fun Aunt Alli?

I have been an aunt now for over three years, Lucky is the cutest little beagle in the world, I would seriously take a bullet for her. I never thought I could love something so much. I hate the fact that she is halfway across the country; plus, she is so bad about e-mail and talking on the phone.

But now that I am going to be an aunt to a human, I just don't know if I could still be fun Aunt Alli. Lucky loved me for throwing toys, playing hide-and-go seek and tag, and all the time I spent with her. I won't be able to do that with a baby for years. So, am I doomed to just be Aunt Alli? Is there any way I can make it that babies don't hate me? These questions become more haunting as Jen is here, and I can see with my own eyes that she is pregnant. I guess I don't have to start stressing too much, I have until December. Besides, even after being gone from Lucky for 2 whole months (friends willingly allowed me to smother their dogs with affection to help me cope), she still greeted me like she loved me.

Interviews

I hate interviews. I wish they would give you a grade as you left relative to how you did, a comparison to the person before you, and if there was a chance they might be calling you. I leave interviews thinking (sometimes) that they went fine, but I never know if the person before me was great and they just did extra fine. I hate taking time off to go to an interview only to hear absolutely nothing, not even a "thanks for applying, but compared to the other candidates you pretty much sucked. Good luck."

Plus, interviews go so against my nature. I am not a look at me and I will tell you all the great things I do and how great I am kind of girl. I like to have my work stand for itself. However, you need to do the wow-the-audience thing and totally sell yourself in order to get the chance to actually prove yourself. I know countless people who can sell themselves and then just can't do the job.

Mainly this is a tirade. I had an interview today, and I have another one tomorrow.

Roman Holiday

I watched Roman Holiday last night. Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn are amazing. Rome is the perfect setting with the Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountain, and the Colisseum (for probably one of the best short stories read "Roman Fever" http://classiclit.about.com/library/bl-etexts/ewharton/bl-ewhar-roman.htm). I even love the ending, which says a lot since it is so atypical of movies today. I enjoyed the movie so much that I dragged Els to the mouth of truth (not so easy to find) when we were in Rome. So, if you are looking for a movie to watch this weekend, it may not have made the AFI's Top 100 (What were they thinking?). Otherwise, if you want to stick to the list, try Some Like it Hot.

It's purplely and makes me itch

I have been procrastinating on writing this post for a while because I know it just makes my family just seem so odd. But since, I included why my dad makes me laugh, I decided to talk about a fun family joke. We are truly a unique bunch that jokes about things that probably half of the world would deem as inappropriate. Nonetheless, every spring and summer the same joke reoccurs.

We have a trellis is the backyard and climbing up the trellis is a purple variety of clematis. I don't know how it started, if one of us misspoke or just made some snide comment or what, but somehow chlamydia got substituted for clematis. Our appropriate comments range widely including things like, "Did you see the chlamydia is blooming," and "Wow, the chlamydia is really spreading." We have gotten to the point, or at least I have, that whenever we talk about the plant, we act like it is really called chlamydia.

Here is where my concern comes in, I fear that one of us is going to make a similar comment - but in public. A visitor comes to our house, and we point out the chlamydia and how beautiful it is. I mean I have gotten to the point where the word clematis hasn't left my mouth in years, and we talk about it multiple times a year. So, if anyone ever slips in my family about how beautiful chlamydia is, please understand what we are saying.

My daddy makes me laugh

The memorable and laughable comment of the day comes from him telling someone over the phone the company's e-mail address. Only he would describe @ as "an a with a swirl" :)

Oh, to be a writer

I am reading E.M Forester's A Passage to India. I am early in the book, but if he keeps on wowing me with quotes similar to the following, I will be more than pleased.

"But she did not take the disappointment as seriously ... [she] had learnt that life never gives us what we want at the moment that we consider appropriate. Adventures do occur, but not punctually" (25).

Austen Week

I just finished what will now be known as Austen Week. You may ask yourself, what is Austen Week? Austen Week, though it may never happen again (I don’t know if my cynical and romantic heart could bear it), entailed reading Pride and Prejudice followed by watching the BBC version of the movie with Colin Firth and then reading Sense and Sensibility followed by watching the Emma Thompson/Kate Winslet/Hugh Grant version of the movie.

First of all, although I think Pride and Prejudice is the better book (in theme, character development, great quotes, and plot line), parts of me feel that Sense and Sensibility makes the better movie or maybe the screenplay was better written. It is the only movie that I was fine with Kate Winslet being an actress, and the movie for which I forgive many of Hugh Grant’s indiscretions. Maybe I love P & P too much for it to be made into a movie that does not perfectly do it justice; I don’t believe my sister has yet forgiven me for my diatribes during the Keira Knightly version.

Secondly, I love Elizabeth Bennet. If there were any character I could be in real life, I think it would be her (although, Franny Glass is a close number two). Elizabeth gives me hope that someone who is so moronic at times can be really reflective and end up happy. Plus, I love how much her ideas change and she changes while remaining who she is.

Thirdly, P & P raises the most questions. Sometimes I still wonder if the book is going to end up like I remember it. Every time, to a certain extent, I doubt the ending and read only to be reassured and cast aside my doubt. I struggle and ask myself if I only read it because I know the ending (for I couldn’t bear the story any other way).

In closing if you haven’t read P & P, do it. I have purposely been vague in the plot line as not to spoil it (curses on books that tell major plot points on the back cover like how Dimmesdale is the father and take away the shocking discovery for students). This book is now on my list of pre-requisites for the perfect man. It is also a book that if I have my own daughter, I will read to her and look forward to seeing it through her eyes with the freshness and angst of not knowing the ending.

Happy cows live in Wisconsin

I just had the sharpest cheese ever. It was fine, Wisconsin quality that still is stimulating my taste buds. As a true Wisconsin girl, I love cheese. The commercials citing that "Great cheese comes from happy cows" and implies that cows can only be happy in California, really get me mad. One problem I have with the commercials is that they tend to be really funny, and I swing violently from hysterical laughter to bitterness and frustration (for example at http://www.realcaliforniacheese.com/; then choose Happy Cow TV and Alarm Clock). Thankfully, I may laugh all I want while I continue to buy Wisconsin cheese. Besides, since I have for almost the entirety of my life lived by a farm, I know that the cows never look sad to me and always cause me to smile.

Movies and Memories

I recently purchased what Tom said was the greatest movie of all time; yet, it remains on my living room floor still in the cellophane. It isn't that I don't love the movie, but I can't bring myself to watch it.

Movies for me are so closely related to memories. And that movie, RocketMan, means summer and the Boundary Waters. Just like the Star Wars movies bring to mind making homemade pizzas, Peter's basement, going to the re-releases my senior year, and watching one of the new ones in Sweden with all the Norweigans. Monsters Inc. reminds me of England and Spontan. The Usual Suspects is Matty's attic. Jerry Maquire is first date (not the best choice due to the opening scene). Rattle and Hum means philosophy papers on Saturday night. Monty Python evokes countless memories, foremost being Jill and Gery Niess. Spaceballs means taking notes just so the boys would think we were cool. Anything with Sandler or Farley reminds me of Dave and Kristy. Moulin Rouge is Steve telling us it's the greatest movie that we had to watch. The Godfather is Isler family Christmas bonding. Shrek is dining room two on Brad's computer after playing cards, unable to understand Eddie Murphy's accent. The Lord of the Rings is returning home for Christmas break to go with old friends. Sense and Sensibility is Jen.

There are other memories that I associate with movies, though I long forget what movie Els and I saw together on our double date in Muncie. Or the movies we watched at the drive-in every year as celebration upon returning to Taylor. Then there were the trips to the drive-in in Jefferson where tip-it and cards were precursors to the movies I no longer remember or movies I couldn't hear because people were sucking face so loudly.

Sometimes movies can transport me back to an earlier time . . . that is why I still love some, others cause bittersweet reflection, and some I just avoid.

Officially Summer

Although there are differing opinions as to when summer starts, I have decided that it is officially summer in Wisconsin. Why? It wasn't having corn on the cob on Memorial Day or the recent warm days we have had, but the fact that I experienced my first mosquito bite last night.

Summer is here. I love summer in Wisconsin - brats, the drive-in, corn, camping, Bocce ball and croquet, the Fourth of July at the lakefront, lakes and boats in every direction, sleeping with a fan on and the windows open, the sudden appearance of people everywhere out on bikes or walking, the different pace of life, the long days, and lightning bugs dancing on the corn stalks in a farmer's field. Enjoy!

Blog Length

Anyone who knows me, knows that I used to journal religiously. My room in my parents' house is filled with journals. However, the older I got, the less I wrote. I don't think it is because I had less important things happening in my life, but rather I did not have the same pressing need to document my life.

As I reflect, I think the main reason I still continue to journal is that it is therapeutic. It is not that I have more going on in my head or life then most people, actually it is probably less; but, rather it is the way I process through everything that is going on in my life. I come to the point where the only way I can remain sane is if I get all of my thoughts out of my head, if only for one brief moment.

So, as one who needs to write out my thoughts, what is the appropriate length for a blog entry? Is there some sort of etiquette in regards to length? Or is there just the realistic knowledge that people will tune out after a few paragraphs?

Ripples

Lately I have been surrounded by many people who have all types of good news: babies and pregnancies, new or better jobs, incredible days of growth, or passing a big test. I have genuinely been happy for everyone as they enter into new and better stages of life. Their joy has been a pebble or rock dropped in the lake, and I have felt and participated in the ripples of their happiness.

The problem is that I no longer just want to be moved due to the ripples of other people’s happiness. I want to experience a joy of my own, I want my good news to be the cause of ripples. I don’t need a rock thrown into my lake, just a pebble. I need a bit of joy that is all mine – though I am willing to share. I want other people to feel and participate in the ripples of my happiness.

I have felt incredibly selfish about this feeling, as if desiring my own happiness means that I am not happy for others. I truly want our lake to be one where pebbles and rocks are continually dropped, where I live in a community that can daily be encouraged by one another as we feel the ripples – the ripples of joy and sadness.

Closure?

Closure. The word is pregnant with meaning. It is referenced in all sorts of situations as the balm of woe. How many times do we hear, I just need closure? What is that? But upon finishing The Lord of the Rings trilogy, I find that closure isn’t at all times what we want. What we want is everything to be neatly sewed up and to end the way we want it to end, not the way it does. The trilogy ended. All questions were answered to a large part – except the one that is most glaring in my mind, the one that leaves a gaping hole. Why didn’t Frodo live out his days in the Shire? I know a smarter person could explain this to me, but although there was ample closure to the books, it wasn’t what I wanted. Why did Sam and Frodo have to part? Why did Sam move on to a normal life while Frodo did not or could not? Why did Frodo receive so little respect and acclaim compared to Merry and Pippin? Was it merely the clothes they wore? Or is it that some of the greatest achievements in life aren’t recognized and acknowledged? Does that change their greatness?

The more I think about it, the more I wonder about what happens the first time Aragorn comes to the Shire and Frodo is not there. What will he think? Will he understand? I guess the closure isn’t really there. More questions spawn as I think on it. Rob Bell would probably be thrilled (if you wonder about this or the next comment, just reference Velvet Elvis). He and Sean Penn would celebrate the mystery.

This whole idea just makes me think of literature in general. I have been asking a lot of questions about literature of late. Maybe it is because I have been thinking a lot of late. The whole reason I started the trilogy was I decided that I needed to read a great story. I outlined a plan of Austen and Tolkien. Two weeks ago I started with The Hobbit, jumped to Austen’s Mansfield Park, and then without taking the intended breaks to revisit other Austen works between the books of the trilogy (due to the fact that I was quite unsettled with Mansfield Park – I can’t even start that diatribe), I finished the trilogy last night. I needed a great story. I needed to run into a world and lose myself, instead of being lost in the world that surrounds me.

Sorry for that digression, back to my questions. If you have an answer, please tell me.

Who is writing the great stories of our time?

Are we living in a time of great stories?

Are there any great stories left or have they all been written?

I would especially like an answer to the last one as it dates back to a conversation Peter and I had years ago.

Welcome

Although there isn’t a title for my blog yet, I decided to finally start. I am hoping the title will come as an epiphany as the blog takes shape, right now it seems to just be spurred by what I am reading and thinking. Undoubtedly, since I have so much on my mind, my entries will be long and frequent in the beginning; they will then fade like the length of day in the winter.

I will be upfront in the beginning. I am not going to pay super close attention to grammar. The two-fold reason is that this blog is not for you, it’s, in all my selfishness, for me. Secondly, I don’t want to focus on the end product and get caught in the trappings of trying to obtain that which is beyond my reach – perfection (though I hope it will be readable. Should the readability be suspect, please leave a note).

Finally, besides commenting that I think Doogie Howser was the first blogger, please don’t use my blog as an excuse to think you know what is going on in my life. Don’t just read a script and cast it aside when done.