Hoth

Yesterday, after church, when my siblings and I were putting on our coats and waiting for our parents to exit, I saw an older lady with her back to us in an enormous, shaggy white fur coat. (It wasn’t mink…frankly I’m not sure what it was...I've never seen one like that before.) “Yikes, look at that coat.” I whispered to my brother and sister. (We’re obviously such kind and sweet people.) My sister made a face and then my brother calmly said, “She looks like a Wampa!” And you know, she…um…actually kind of did. :-D



P.S. If you’re not Star Wars nuts like me and my siblings, then you might not know that, “Wampa ice creatures were carnivorous predatory reptomammals indigenous to the Outer Rim Territories ice planet Hoth.” (According to http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Wampa anyway... And what in heck is a reptomammal? :-D Who comes up with this stuff?)


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The Wedding

My cousin’s wedding is over… and now I’m a little let down. *sob* :-( But it was a lovely wedding…they’re two really great people and the whole thing went beautifully. Of course, there were a few hitches.... First, my sister and I were the guest book attendants (it’s a very important job) and at the beginning of the seating, the ushers were missing and nobody knew where they were! And I discovered that ushers really are important because people expect someone to be there to guide them. If no ushers are standing at the door, the guests are completely helpless about knowing where to sit. :-) But the ushers finally did appear and all was well…for a time…. As the bridesmaids were going up the steps to the platform, each one tripped on her dress but thankfully, they were hanging onto a groomsman and so none of them went headlong into the pastor. Then, during the vows, one of the bridesmaids calmly knelt and put her head down and then, after a moment, she stood up and slipped out a back door. (I don’t even think the bride and groom noticed…they were into their vows so….) The bridesmaid did come back after a bit, resumed her position, and walked out with the others. Later, she said that she felt like she was going to faint. (It was rather warm in the sanctuary of the church and she had to stand up for a long time…so that was understandable.) So other than a few small things, and one near crisis, the wedding went beautifully. "I love weddings. Drinks all around!" (Don't worry, I only had one sip of champagne and one sip of chocolate raspberry wine and they were both very nasty. I've decided that I really don't like alcoholic beverages at all.) :-) I didn’t get to sleep until 11:45 last night…and I had to get up at 7:00 for church this morning… so I’ve been walking into doors and dropping things and mixing up words like I usually do when I’m sleep deprived. :-) (It’s dangerous!) And, then, last night, at 11:30, I remembered that I’d forgotten to sign the guestbook. :-D

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That Matchmaking Gleam

Okay, so the ceremony was over, and there was a little cake and punch reception at the church before the dinner reception somewhere else, and one of my Mom’s old friends came over to talk to my sister and I. She asked about our ages and school situations and then she said, “Do you have beaus?” I wanted to laugh but held it together enough to reply that no, I don’t have a boyfriend and exchanged a look of amusement with my sister as she said she didn’t have a boyfriend either. “Well, you know, there’s plenty of time for that…let me tell you how my sister met her husband at a hospital.” (Remember my sister is a nurse.) So she told us the story and it was a nice one and I liked it…but then, she said sorrowfully, “But, she lost him five years ago, in his sleep, and now she’s dying of cancer…so it wasn’t a happily ever after story.” I was completely stunned but managed to gasp “I’m…so…sorry.” My mom’s friend is very matter of fact and a Christian so she wasn’t being morbid but, yikes! She moved on then and a gleam came into her eyes, “Now, I do have three nephews and two of them are about your ages…” “Horrors! A matchmaker!” I groaned inwardly and exchanged another look with my sister. So, then she told us about her nephews and how they want to go to Med. School and how they don’t have girlfriends and all their good points and ages…. Sounded like she was trying to start a clinic or build a bridge or something. Such a nice lady but, oh, for pity’s sake, I don’t want to buy your nephews! :-D When we politely got away, I dragged my sister out to the hall and groaned, “Wasn’t that just awful?!” And then we practically collapsed laughing...it was all so ridiculous…we just couldn’t help it. :-)

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I Could Have Danced All Night

At the wedding reception last night, I danced. No really, I did―I grabbed my brother and pulled him out to the dance floor and discovered that I love dancing. I always thought I would like it but I’ve never really had the chance to try. My sister had already asked my grandpa to dance and my great aunt and uncle were swing dancing―they were really good and I never knew they could dance like that! Before long, we had my first cousins (ages 9 & 13) in on the act and were doing what I’d call demi-swing because we knew a few things and then made up the rest. :-) (Unfortunately, only one song out of three was worth dancing to―that’s the way it goes these days―and not many songs were exactly the swing type. :-/) It was great…especially because the boys soon figured out how much fun it is (and they were really good) and kept asking my sister and I (and my grandma and aunt) to dance. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen my brother demi-swing dancing with my great aunt! (Check out the introverted, un-socialized home-educated kids! :-D) We also did line dancing and waltzing. Towards the end, I was waltzing with my nine-year-old cousin (so fun!) and then, I nearly fell over in a heap. Why? Because my parents were on the dance floor and, get this, they had never danced before last night. Never. My dad hates it so much that they didn’t even have dancing at their wedding. It was truly a miracle. As we were leaving, Thriller came on and we all started groaning because we didn’t get to dance to it…even the boys were sad. :-)

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Ducklings in Suits

About a month ago, when my sister came home from her job as a nurse, she told us that all the new med students had been on her floor. (We have a large med-school near us and she works at a large hospital so I’m sure there were quite a few students.) Apparently, their senior doctor was giving them a tour of the hospital and as they processed down the hall after him like little ducklings in black suits, they passed the nurse’s station. My sister (who is rather young) was sitting there, charting and she said that each guy in the group turned and gave her a full-on stare as he passed. So picture all the med students in their little duckling line making sheep-eyes at little blond nurse―who then spent the whole time trying not to laugh at them. :-) When she told me I said, that she should have looked up very seriously and said, “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s impolite to stare?”





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Skate Laces

My new ice-skates finally came! (The UPS man was very late today…why is it that when you really want something, he’s several hours behind schedule?) Though I’m not sure why I’m happy about it…. I still have to take them somewhere to be sharpened and attempt to find skate-guards since the stores don’t seem to be carrying them and then find a place to skate…. *sigh* Anyway, I was trying to lace them and I have to say, one of my least favorite things to do is put new laces in footwear. I don’t do it often enough and forget how they go and then they don’t look right to me and I have to rip them out. Poor Mom was trying to talk to me as I sat on the floor with four pounds of ice-skates on my lap and I think all she got out of me was, “I’m…very hot…how does this work…they’re not right! *rip* ...hate lacing…diagram would be helpful…they look funny! *rip* ...don’t talk to me right now….” :-) (Granted I was very hot because it’s been freezing cold in the house for days and I’ve been so cold lately that today I wore a turtleneck and thick sweater…and then it was 42 outside and the house heated up. Now (4:45pm) I’m cold again.) I wasn’t very happy…and they still aren’t laced to my satisfaction. *groan/sigh* In the meantime, I think I’ll try to track down some orange skate guards.

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Starting a Panic

As I was typing in my room, Mom called “dryer,” from downstairs because I washed my sheets today and was drying them. “What did she say?” asked my brother from the next room. “Dryer,” I said. “Oh, I thought she said ‘fire’.” When I went downstairs, I told Mom that she could have started a panic. Dad once told me that it’s illegal to yell “fire!” because it might start a panic and someone could get squashed. After Dad said this, my brother said, “Then we should yell “No fire!” :-D

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Evil Cookware

I had just fried an egg for lunch and was turning to get something else when I heard a loud hissing noise and my brother went, “Ahhh!” “Something wrong?” I asked, turning back to him. He had a kind of creeped out look on his face and said, “I was reaching over the pan and it hissed at me.” “Pans don’t like you.” I said. Maybe they don’t because he smashed one finger and burned another (not badly) while he was making his lunch.

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Things I Don’t Want to See in Your Christmas Letter

We’re being slowly flooded with Christmas epistles…from family and friends…and the boasters abound. Why is it that Christmas is used as an excuse to send out boastful letters? I don’t get it. Christmas is completely about humility―I mean, God came to earth and was born as an ordinary man in a common place―that’s about as humble as you can get.
So here’s what I don’t want to read or see in Christmas letters…I’m sure many of you will agree with me...and maybe I'll even add more things when more letters come. :-)

1. That your teenage daughter went to Japan with her “friend” Joe. (That actually makes me kinda sick. :-D)

2. That you managed to find a house in one of the fashionable parts of town. (We’re all real impressed.)

3. “I’m being tutored in Biblical Greek!” (At sixteen?! I like Greek but good grief!)

4. About your son or daughter’s new girl/boy friend. (Here today, gone tomorrow…tell me when they get engaged.)

5. Detailed lists of each child’s personal activities, hobbies, aspirations, and college perspectives. (Thank you…but we’re not looking to hire them for upper management.)

6. How you spent the past year in the car driving kids to various activities. (That’s actually rather sad…)

7. Brand-names. (We’re all so happy that you can afford a Lexus, Mac, or Coach bag and told us so.)

8. A list of places you went, what you did, and how great, great, great it was. (Never fails to be nauseating.)

9. Lots of posed pictures, edited on Photoshop, and strategically placed around the 2-3 page letter. (This isn’t a bloody catalogue cover…just tuck in one nice picture for us to put on the fridge!)

10. And in the last paragraph, tell us about your high-blood pressure problem or palpitating heart issue or breathing concern…and how the doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong. (We all know what’s wrong and how we know has something to do with how out of breath we felt just by reading about your life.)

I like hearing from people but why can’t they be honest and real? You’re supposed to be sending letters to people who care about you…so tell us what really happened and skip the bragging. Being blessed does not give you an excuse to boast.

P.S. Mom read this before you send out our Christmas greetings. :-)

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Take a Sad Song and Make It Better

Last night we were on the way home from dinner (just me, my mom, and my brother…my sister had to work and my dad had a meeting―on my birthday! Miscreants! :-D) and were listening to my new Beatles CD. No, I didn’t get the re-mastered mono box set *sob* *sob* but I did get #1 which has all of their number one hits. (Can you believe that Twist and Shout, I am the Walrus, and Sergeant Pepper weren’t #1 hits?) Anyway, Hey Jude came on and Mom, who had been singing along with nearly every song (I never knew that she knows the lyrics to so many Beatles songs!) told us how her swing choir danced to Hey Jude at the junior high to recruit the kids who would be moving up to high school. Apparently, they had to go out into the audience of 6th, 7th and 8th graders and try to get them to dance too. My brother and I thought this was extremely funny…I mean, Hey Jude is one of my favourite Beatles songs but it’s not the first one I’d pick to dance to…. We had trouble breathing when Mom said, “But they didn’t really want to dance and so it was like being in a Brady Bunch episode where nobody else had the script.” (That really does sound like a Brady Bunch episode from the later seasons…. :-D) By that point, I was laughing hysterically but managed to say, “Is that your memory of Hey Jude?” “Yes, I guess it is.” Mom laughed. “That’s really sad.” My brother said. “Take a sad song and make it better,” Mom said, which only made us laugh harder. “And, it’s kind of a slow song so you can only do a few moves to it…” Then, while driving, she demonstrated the dance…kind of grooving her shoulders and then clapping her hands together… which made my brother and I laugh so hard that we didn’t even care that her hands weren’t on the steering wheel. Though…I did have a vague feeling that we were driving on the wrong side of the road…. :-D (Just kidding…we weren’t.) Ah, Beatles music. It brings out the best (I hope) in all of us. :-)

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Today

Right now…I’m going to focus on the annoying things that happened to me today…which are almost always funnier than the nice things...right? :-)
This morning, I awoke from a dream that it was next week and the day of my cousin’s wedding. I’d miscalculated the time and was running around trying to get ready but kept getting hung up somehow. My hair wouldn’t obey or I lost my skirt or my top had a rip…and so on. Very annoying. (Next week though, I will remember to start getting ready way ahead of time. :-) ) I also had a dream that I could play the guitar…which I want to learn so I was mad when I woke up from that one and found that I still can’t play the guitar. How typical!
The book I inter-library loaned though Ick, by one of my favourite biography authors, was an utter waste of time. I skimmed though part of it last night and first, it’s supposed to be in Tudor times but the characters don’t speak with “thee” and “thou”… they speak like they just came out of the supermarket in Ohio. Second, (and much worse) it’s all mushy and kissy. Blecck! I hate mushy books! So now, I’m reading Wind in the Willows to soothe my injured feelings and the other book is going to be returned. I’m really quite surprised at this author…I expected better…especially since she wrote in the 50’s and 60’s. If she were still alive, I’d write her a letter expressing my sentiments.
We cleaned the entire house today (because the family is coming tomorrow for my birthday and oh my goodness! The house absolutely must be clean, clean, clean or they might slonk over dust bunnies and sue us! :-D) and moved the tree into the living room. We went out in the frozen cold yesterday to buy it but it wasn’t that cold and I do love real trees (you can’t make a fake tree smell real). I cleaned the bathroom (my job around here―yeah, fun, I know, but I keep them in top order) and asked everyone to not slime up the sink before tomorrow but we’ll see how well they do.
Tonight, when I took off the band-aid that I'd had on my finger since last night, the place where the band-aid had been looked all weird and shriveled like a corpse. (In short, the rest of me is alive but I think my finger died.) It was helpful though because later when my sister grabbed my hand and cooed, “Your hands are so soft!” I held out my middle finger and said, “Doesn’t this look like a corpse?” She let go quickly and I don’t know what she was squealing about…. :-)
My brother and I played Lego Star Wars (my one decidedly “non-academic” weakness) and he kept cheating me… I don’t know how he does it but he always steals my points! I build something and he takes all the studs or he hops in front of me and grabs the blue studs (1,000 points) before I can get there. *grrr* And worse, we have invincibility so my character can’t shoot his! When we get too mad at each other or bored, we turn off invincibility and have duels. Mouse droid races are also fun. If you don’t have a knowledge of Lego Star Wars you’re probably lost by now…so I’ll move on. :-)
I found old pictures of me at nine years old in a Bible study folder and oh my goodness, I looked fat! I have never been fat but people always manage to snap pictures of me looking like I’ve eaten nothing but pop tarts my whole life. *sigh* *groan* And, I wanted to throw the photos away but Mom wouldn’t let me and said they were cute. Cute!!? Oh well.
Lastly, something I’ve always noticed… when your birthday’s coming up people yell things at you like, “Don’t come in here!” and do things like stop talking when you walk into the room and then stare strangely at you. Happy Birthday. I guess the presents make up for the shunning beforehand…well...mostly.

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If Santa Really Existed...

He'd have given me this misfit toy by now....

*sigh* I say this every year when we watch Rudolph. :-)

P.S. This elephant is impossible to find... I can't figure out why no one makes stuffed toys of the classic Rudolph characters. *sob*

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The Forest and the Trees

The interview is over… (it went well but that’s the first time I’ve ever been asked to summarize Descartes Meditations in 3-4 sentences) three of my exams are done and only one short paper to go… so I can now resume more frequent posts! (Aren’t you happy? :-D) It’s amazing what you have the time and patience to do when your semester is nearly over. The air seems fresher…the sun shines brighter…just kidding, school isn’t that bad and I mostly like it…but a break is always good. :-) You do see things that you barely noticed during the semester…. Like I just realized that I should tidy up my trunk which could/should be a place to sit but can’t since I leave things on top of it. Since fall break ended (the last time I actually noticed my room) the top of my trunk’s been a hopeless sea of French verb note cards, old to-do lists, bookmarks, drawing pencils, pens (of varying ink levels…some don’t work at all), books, Altoids tins―in short, there are places in my room which look like a refuse tip. I’m also realizing that hey, it’s December and my birthday is in three days (yay!), my cousin’s wedding is only a week away, and Christmas is only 14 days away. (Not all my shopping’s done…eek!) I think somehow I missed the fact that December began over 10 days ago. :-D

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Strange Tastes

I’m in the middle of finals work (talk about nightmares for final exams you have taken!) and thus, my creative ability has been significantly diminished of late. I have a phone interview with the college that I really want to go to tomorrow night. I’m sure it’ll be fine…. *gulp* (Pray for me…please.) Anyway, as I drove home from Ick today and was trying not to think about finals, I remembered something I did back in the day which amuses me now. When I was three or four, Mom had a small Christmas tree on a card table (I think to keep the presents off the floor and away from little fingers) and I think there was a tablecloth over the table too. In any case, I remember taking a fresh package of cream cheese out of the fridge, getting a knife, and crawling under the card table to eat it. I know I got the foil package open and ate some of it with the knife…but I don’t remember how much I managed to eat before Mom looked under the table and found me. :-D As if that isn’t all… I used to eat frozen raw bacon from the butcher shop too. (I guess it is cured or smoked…but still….) My sister and I actually got away with that a few times before Mom caught us. My brother is also known to have tried to eat a stick of butter in a similar way to my cream cheese episode…. My poor mother… :-) (Don’t worry we weren’t habitually rotten. :-D) Ah, childhood. It’s a wonder anyone survives it.

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Dinner in the Hills

Last spring, we took a family trip and to do so, we passed though a heavily wooded and mountainous state. (which shall be nameless) At Olive Garden the first night, we had to wait at least 15-20 minutes for a table and when we finally got to one, my Dad says, “Where do all these people come from? I haven’t seen any houses.” “They come out of the hills after dark.” I said and then Dad said, “You'd better not say that too loud...these people probably have guns...big, big guns.” We were joking of course...but thankfully, I didn’t see any guns.

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100 Things That Should Not Exist

I found these at Sparknotes a few months ago--they're really funny. (And because I spent the afternoon working on a paper...I'm going to be lazy and not write anything new today. :-) )

http://community.sparknotes.com/2009/09/10/50-things-that-should-not-exist

http://community.sparknotes.com/2009/09/11/50-more-things-that-should-not-exist

I really like this one... 68. Nightmares about final exams for classes you've never taken. :-D

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Star Wars in the Desk Drawer

One summer, while on vacation with my two cousins, my siblings and I introduced them to Star Wars. (Episodes IV-VI…not the prequels.) At one point when we stopped for lunch (we were watching them in the car on the long ride there and back) and had this conversation. (We were testing to see how well they were paying attention.)
Me: “Who is Luke related to?”
Cousin Tyler: “I don’t know, Obi Wan?” (This from the kid who stopped watching New Hope during the escape from the Death Star and doesn’t even know what happens to Obi Wan…. *sigh*)
Me: “Josh, who is Luke related to?”
Cousin Josh: “C3-P0!”
(Entire table dissolves into hysterical laughter)
Me: “No!”
Josh: “Leia?”
Tyler: “Is Leia his aunt?”
(This conversation went on and on…)

Josh’s speech (he was eight at the time) was especially startling/amusing since he was completely enthralled by both New Hope and Empire Strikes Back―we have rather amusing pictures of him staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the TV during both of them. However, about fifteen minutes into Return of the Jedi, during the Jabba’s Palace scenes, he got a very funny look on his face and said, “This is Star Wars??!!” :-D But…don’t we all think that during the Jabba the Hut scenes? (and for most of the prequels?)

What it was… was Hockey

My brother and I went to a pro-hockey game last night and I have to say it was pretty entertaining. I like hockey―though I prefer to watch the highlights on TV―but it is fun to go to a game once in awhile―especially since our team won. :-) However, I was very amused by the behavior of the season ticket holders seated nearby. (We know someone with season tickets and they got us seats about five rows from the ice. Sweet huh? :-) ) Its strange how the fans think that the players can 1: hear them and 2: care about what they say/yell. At one point, our team had a power play but they weren’t doing anything with it, and this one huge jersey wearing season ticket holder, who heretofore had been quiet, yells at the top of his lungs, “IT’S A POWER PLAY!” If I’d been holding anything at that moment I certainly would have dropped it but thankfully I wasn’t so I just giggled to myself. Our team finally scored and everyone jumped to their feet; then, the season ticket holders went around and high-fived each other and even embraced―I mean, you’d think that they’d been the ones to score and not the players. It was really funny. :-D So then, we’re in the 3rd period, a player swings a little too close to the referee, and jersey guy decides that it’s imperative to yell, “HIT THE REF!” And I’m sure the ref. heard it…the season ticket holders seem to hate the refs. Other season ticket holders yell at the players, and some of the things they say are kind of nasty…. I think the players must decide to be deaf or are so into the game that they don’t hear the things people yell at them. Though it was amusing when the jersey guy yelled, “THE PUCK IS RIGHT THERE!” and I’m thinking, “Yes, I’m sure the player is well aware of that since he's the one pushing the puck along with his stick.” Oh and having people yell “SHOOT! SHOOT!” as if the players need their advice is extremely funny too. The mascot came down by us―I detest mascots―and my brother and I sat there whispering, “Don’t come near us, don’t come near us…” (He didn’t come near us.) We also saw a fight…and the season ticket holders were yelling “FIGHT! FIGHT!” You know…I wonder why the players beat each other up… if I were them… I’d go after those season ticket holders. *evil smile*

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Plink!

On Wednesday night, (the 25th) I had gone with Mom to the jeweler to have her rings appraised. Once there, I remembered that I’d been meaning to bring in a loose cut stone that I’ve had for years so I can ask the jeweler to examine it. It looks like a white opal and I’ve always wondered if it’s real. I found the opal in a bag of old jewelry that my great aunt gave me—she used to run an antique shop and gave me whatever didn’t sell. Anyway, I decide to hunt around online and see if there is a way to determine if an opal is real. One site informed me that if an opal is fake, then a hot needle will be able to penetrate it and if it’s real, the needle can’t go through the stone. That sounds easy enough, so I get the stone from my jewelry box and go to the kitchen to find a lighter. Now, my sister is cooking dinner and I prefer not to be asked what I’m doing, so I go into the bathroom with the lighter and shut the door. (Can you tell what’s about to happen?) I heat the needle and pull the opal out of my pocket and.... The next thing I know, I’ve dropped the opal and it’s spinning around the sink like a penny in one of those plastic circles at the zoo. I try to grab it but then, clink, clatter, plink! It’s fallen down the drain. When something like this happens, you tend to stare at the drain for a few moments, with sort of a sick feeling in your stomach, before you even begin to react. And thinking, “Why didn’t I shut the drain?” is perfectly useless at this point. (Besides, the drain cover for that sink doesn’t work.) Once I manage to move, I know I can’t leave the opal in the pipe...I’ve had it for too long (sentimental value) and it could be real (monetary value). So, I open the lower cupboard and examine the pipe; it’s thick and will require a large wrench to remove the catch. I summon Mom—who groans and tells me to find a wrench—so I go to the basement and look in Dad’s wrench drawer. Unfortunately, Dad doesn’t really have a large plumber’s wrench—like the one in the Clue game—and I take another kind upstairs. Mom and I try that one for a while and it doesn’t work―it won’t lock to the right size―and I have to go back down and bring up another one. That one doesn’t work either and I go back down to find a third...my nerves are getting pretty strung out by now but I find one that locks and take it upstairs. This one works... finally. The catch slowly unscrews, we take it off, and the opal (real or not) appears as soon as we dump the water from the catch into a pan. So now I’ve got it back but we have to put the piping, back together…we screw the catch back on as tight as it will go and run the water. It leaks…but only a little. We don’t have any of the putty that plumbers put on pipes to make a watertight seal so we placed a little dish underneath to catch the drips. The plumber is coming in a week or two (he was already coming for something else) so we’ll have him putty it when he comes. I think it’s a racket that they can’t make the plumbing plumber free but oh well… at least I got my opal back. And after it went through all that, I tried to stick a hot needle in it―I was well away from any sinks this time. It wouldn’t go in...which means that it is likely a real opal. So, I’m really glad that we rescued it. :-)

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Grey Sky’s Blue

As I was driving home today from Ick, under the cloudy sky, it began to rain. It’s done that a lot this year. And at times, I wonder, “Is it raining in space?” :-) But then I remembered something. I noticed this in 2005, when I was flying home from Florida. It was a beautiful, clear day but as the plane landed, we went through many layers of grey clouds. By the time we were on the runway, it was misting and the clouds were so low they nearly touched the ground. But above the clouds… I knew that the sky was still blue. It had some kind of effect upon me because when it’s nasty outside I often remember that experience. The sky is always blue above the clouds and the stars still shine even when you can’t see them.

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April Day

My siblings and I deliver May Baskets every May Day to friends and neighbors; we’re way too old now but the people around town would miss them if we didn’t so I’m never going to stop. :-) Anyway, this note is dated May 1, 2007 and is something that my younger brother said: “We could have April Day! Only instead of flowers we could use ants… and we’d only give them to people we don’t like!" I wonder how well that would go over? :-)


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Why I Like Cats

I’ve always liked cats better than dogs… perhaps for these reasons: 1: Dogs bark (cats can yowl but only about half of them actually do) 2: Dogs lick you and breathe on you. (I mean, come on, it’s really gross when you think about it. Now, a cat will never lick you unless it’s deranged.) 3: Dogs require grooming. (Cats are self-washing.) Besides, a good cat will sit quietly on your lap for a long time and purr…dogs can’t purr. :-) Don’t get me wrong, I don’t detest all dogs―I’ve known some very nice and well-behaved dogs (but not many). And there’s always Snoopy…. However, here’s why I hate dogs right now. I live in a small town and some of my neighbors have dogs―normally, these are well-loved and well cared for animals that don’t bark very often. However, in the summer, I think, “Farfel” moved in across the street. (I’ve nicknamed him Farfel in reference to the Seinfeld episode, “The Dog,”) I don’t know what kind of dog he is because I’ve never been able to see him―but I suspect he’s medium to full size. But I can hear him. Farfel barks at odd times all through the day (and maybe all through the night, thank heavens I have a white noisemaker!). He’s got to be the most annoying dog in the whole world. "I'm not sure this is a dog." He tends to bark right as I’m working on homework―thus, I turn on my iPod and drown him out with music. I hate that dog so much. Yes, I know. I should feel sorry for it and I sort of do―I mean, who lets their dog bark all day long?? But hey, I’d be really happy if God sent a random lightning bolt to strike Farfel. I’ve thought about dieffenbachia sap―which temporarily freezes the vocal cords―but dismissed that idea. (What if it tried to eat me instead of the sap? Or the owners caught me?) I asked my Dad what happens if you call animal control about a barking dog but I think he forgot to ask around. I’ve vowed that I don’t want to have a dog ever―unless, I find a mutt who is quiet and peaceful. (I detest purebreds―they have two traits: 1: weird health and behaviour problems due to over breeding and 2: bragging rights. I was talking to a former friend of mine―who is big into purebreds―once about the Peanuts comic strip and I said, “Snoopy is so funny,” and then my friend sniffed, “Isn’t Snoopy a Beagle? I don’t like Beagles.” No wonder we aren’t friends anymore. :-D) Meanwhile, Farfel is barking as I type. Losing mind… turning up Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers to restore sanity….


I thought these quotes from Seinfeld were particularly amusing since they reflect how I feel right now….
New scene.
Jerry's apartment, he's got all of his furniture up and there's a loud incessant barking coming from the bedroom. Jerry and Farfel are playing 'tug of war' with one of Jerry's sneakers. Elaine is in the kitchen.
Jerry: Let go, Farfel! Let go, gimme that! Gimme the sneaker you stupid idiot! Shut up!
Jerry: (to Farfel) STOP IT! SHUT UUUUUUP!!! (to Elaine) Do you believe this?
Do you believe what I'm dealing with here; I've got a wild animal in the house!
He's deranged, maybe he's got rabies. I can get lockjaw.
Elaine: If only.

Later...
Jerry hangs up the phone and begins singing and dancing.
Jerry: Going to the dog pound, everybody! Going to the dog pound, come on down. (To Elaine) What?
Elaine: Do you have to?
Jerry: What am I supposed to do? I don't want to do it. I like dogs. I'm not sure this is a dog.
Elaine: You know, the guy might have just lost your number.
Jerry: I'm in the book and I have a machine.
Elaine: Jerry, do you know what they do to dogs at the pound? They keep themthere for a week and then if nobody claims them, they kill them.
Jerry: Really? How late are they open?

New scene.
Elaine and Farfel are playing 'tug of war' with a jacket.
Elaine: Gimme the jacket, furface, this is not Seinfeld you're dealing with!
When I get through with you, you'll be begging to go to the pound!
The phone rings, Farfel begins barking.
Elaine: Shut up. Shut up! (Answers phone) Hello? No, who's calling? Oh my, the dog guy. Where have *you* been? Yeah, well you better pick up your dog tonight or he has humped his last leg.

http://www.seinfeldscripts.com/TheDog.htm

Hehehehe

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The Magically Evolving Sauce

I spent most of today doing homework―that’s what comes from spending two days at your grandma’s house…but it was a fun two days so that makes up for the homework. Anyway, rather than work on my research paper anymore, I think I will tell the tale of my Eggs Benedict experiment. Now, Eggs Benedict is basically an Egg McMuffin (the McDonalds breakfast sandwich) with hollandaise sauce poured over it. I’ve always wanted to try Eggs Benedict so; I gathered the ingredients for making the sandwich (English muffins, Canadian bacon, American cheese, and eggs.) Now, the first day I decided to attempt this experiment was a Saturday and my Dad decided that since I’d acquired all the ingredients for Egg McMuffins that he had to have one. I was a little annoyed since I had to make it for him and this delayed my breakfast. (I can become rather cranky if I don’t eat…and/or I get all shaky and weird from low blood sugar.) He did help though and the next thing I know, he’s taken the American cheese from the refrigerator and said, “Looks like this is the last piece.” Now, these sandwiches are worthless without cheese and I know it. So, I’m frying the egg for his sandwich, biting my tongue, and wanting to say a few choice words about putting American cheese on the shopping list…but I don’t. After all, it’s not Dad’s fault and I know that―it’s just a very irritating circumstance. And, at least I hadn’t made the hollandaise yet. So Dad gets his sandwich and I go upstairs and vent in private.
Attempt #2…. A few days later, with American cheese in the fridge, I decided to try again. In a double boiler, I mix butter, egg yolks, hot water, pepper, and lemon juice. (I had to run down to my grandma’s to find the lemon juice and thankfully, she had some.) Once it’s mixed, I taste the sauce and make a face. Don’t let anyone fool you; hollandaise sauce is one of the nastiest concoctions on earth. I made it correctly and it was smooth and just as it was supposed to be but ugh! It tasted like melted butter, with egg yolks, and lemon juice. No, there is no magic in the recipe―it tastes just like its ingredients. Double yuck, yuck. There I am, with half a recipe of hollandaise sauce and I hate it. Enter Mom. “You know, it’s basically a custard with the egg yolks and butter…why don’t you add sugar and make it into lemon custard?” Okay, that sounds reasonable. I pull out the old cookbook and find custard recipes―it is very similar―and mix in the right amount of sugar. It’s palatable as custard and except for the few grains of pepper; you’d never know it used to be hollandaise sauce. I tasted it and probably could have eaten it if I hadn’t made it and smelled it when it was in its prior state. My brother ate it and said it was good. I still had egg whites left over and under the custard recipes; I see a recipe for “Floating Island” which is mentioned in the Betsy-Tacy books and is basically soft custard with meringue topping. Aha! Something to do with the egg whites! So I whisk up the meringue and now I have Floating Island. When my sister got home from work I said, “I made floating island, you know like in Betsy-Tacy.” What I didn’t tell her was that the Floating Island was once hollandaise sauce… at least, not until um...now. :-D


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The Door

Our back door has been acting up. We installed it three years ago and the hinges are basically useless. I mean, when they work, they work but they don’t, they don’t. And right now, they don’t. Basically, the door is not hanging right and gets stuck. We can barely open or close it right now. Mom made me use the front door when I got home from Ick yesterday. This can be quite a feat, since the front door is old and you have to pull it towards you while un-locking...and if you’re holding thirty pounds in books and swatting away Asian beetles... you deserve a medal for reaching the interior. I thought the key was going to break off in the lock...I really did. Anyway, the miscreant back door is from a well-known company with the bonus of terrible customer service. Mom called and it’ll take 2 weeks for them to even consider doing anything about it. (And it’s under warranty too.) I wonder if the darn thing were to fall off and smash someone if they’d even care.
Oh, and on top of all that, our e-mail’s been acting up and sending duplicate e-mails at weird times. It’s kind of embarrassing. Oh well... all these things make good material for writing and they can be rather funny if put in the proper prospective. That’s why I started this blog... because "It takes time to be funny. It takes time to extract joy from life." - Hollie Baylor, Elizabethtown, 2005. And it really does.

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Notes from the Desk Drawer

I inherited a writing desk from my great-grandmother and it has quaint little drawers in the fold-down part. When I write bits of things down, I stuff them in one of the little drawers―waiting for the right moment to use them, of course. Well, as the Walrus said, “The time has come!” So here’s something I’ve pulled from the drawer…expect more of these from time to time.

A conversation with my younger brother… dated 3/11/07.
Me – “Your face is always dirty…why don’t you wash it?”
My brother – (In a highly offended/dignified tone) “Just what do you think I am?”
Me – “A slob.”
As I recall, he tried to look offended―but cracked up laughing and gave himself away. He’s older now so he’s not a slob anymore.

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The Pink Duck

Today when I went to Ick, it was raining (rather hard) and was very windy (I’d like to talk to whoever decided to build Ick on a river bluff) and was extremely cold. As I trek to the main building from my car (it’s a very long way), I’m wearing this pink raincoat with a hood and I’m thinking, “I look like a 5 foot three pink duck.” Then, I argue with myself, “Who cares what I look like? It’s pouring down rain and no one cares if I look like a pink duck!” Other side of my brain, “I do! I’ll just keep my head down and then no one will see my face.” But by the time I’m halfway to the building I’ve forgotten all about such things and am just trying to keep my hands from resembling icicles. So now you all know that I argue with myself sometimes and that when I use the hood on my raincoat I look like a pink duck.

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My Life… Reduced to Paper

About 10 days ago, I mailed off an application for another college and it’s the one that I really, really, really, want to attend. Inside the envelope was a form, an essay, recommendations from two highly educated people, a check, and various transcripts. As I watched the postmistress stamp the envelope, I kept thinking, “My entire life… reduced to paper. *sob*” I’m too young to die, I’m too nice to die, I’m too me to die! (As you can see, I’m more than a little nervous about it.) This college process is highly over-rated.

(By the way, the “I’m too such and such to die” is something Snoopy think/speaks in Peanuts.)

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‘Tis Pity, ‘Tis True

So last week, I ran into someone I used to know in the library at Ick. She’s about the last person I would have expected to see in the library because she used to pick on me for being studious. We didn’t always get along in the old days...I’m not sure exactly why…but I’ve always suspected that she was jealous about something. (Wish I knew what I have that was worth being jealous about… :-D) While she was talking to me, I spent most of the time inwardly laughing at myself. Why? Because I’d forgotten something that morning that I never forget on school days. But yes… it’s true. I forgot my make-up. So now, she’s probably telling all of our old “friends” how young/pale/blotchy/etc. I look. Oh well. I don’t like wearing make-up anyway and so it normally has lost its effect by that time of day because I forget about touching it up. (I know, I’m a regular Jo March…I’d probably fry my own hair with a curling iron if I wasn’t careful. :-D) And I’m pale no matter what I do unless I’m embarrassed and then I look like a lobster. At least I didn’t look like a lobster. Right?

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Conversation with Mom

“I set up a blog today...you know about random tidbits.”

“Hmm.” (Looking through the fridge)

“Guess what I called it?”

“Umm…little pieces of crap?”

“No!!!” (gasping between spasms of laughter)

Mom can be startlingly wacky.

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Where to Begin

To begin…I suppose I should explain about the design of the site and my penname. In 1994, when I was four-years-old, I was dying to see a certain movie. It had recently been released and my older sister had gone to see it―I think everyone thought I was too young to appreciate this film. But, a kind soul took pity on me and took me to the theatre in the next small town…and the rest is history. The picture was Little Women and it’s the first movie that I remember seeing in a theatre. I was completely entranced by Little Women―especially Jo and the scenes where she was writing in the attic. Although I know that writing was already in my blood, I suspect that Little Women had a cementing influence upon my always knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Fast-forward, 11 years….

When I told some family members I wanted to be a writer, at the age of fifteen, I was stunned at being immediately told, “You’ll starve.” I mean, come on, I’m fifteen! Leave the girl some hope for the future! :-D

But, who do you suppose said this?

Could it be?

Yes, it came from the person who took me to see Little Women back in 1994.

How weird is that?

*Laugh* I guess this writing business is all their fault....

So that’s why I’m Jo... now, enough of this and on to the anecdotes.

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