Showing posts with label Ick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ick. Show all posts

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Farewell Ick... but not the in the way you might think...

I must confess something…. I like Ick now. This will be the last time I ever refer to it as Ick. My change in feeling probably has something to do with being interviewed for another school last December and a stuffy dean asking me in hauteur-type voice, “So, why did you choose the community college route?” and a few other questions dripping with snobbery. I didn’t let it make me mad until afterwards but then, I tell you it made me so mad I wanted to wring his neck. I’m NOT going to his school and I intend to stay at my community college next year and I LIKE MY COLLEGE!! And my education is NOT inferior to anyone else's!! Ahem… rant over… mostly. :-) Strange how you don’t realize how much you like something until someone else picks on it.

:-)

Monday, December 7, 2009

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.

:-)

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

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.

:-)

Monday, November 16, 2009

‘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?

:-)