I think I've discussed on here that I lost my Grampa this year. It has hit me very hard, because he was my number 1 man (shared spot with The Husband). He was my father figure, someone I loved more than I love myself, someone I truly admire and absolutely my hero. It would take a book to describe him, but anyone who has met him was charmed by him. He was graceful, charming, intelligent, and very, VERY funny in ways you didn't always expect. When coworkers would pass around pictures of their adorable children at work, I passed around pictures of my Grampa and Gramma.
This is the first time I have lost somebody very dear to me. I am having trouble accepting it and moving on, so I'm trying to find positive outlets to process this and charge ahead.
The good thing about strong emotions is that they inspire writers to write.
This isn't a particularly fantastic poem or anything, but I liked the idea behind it. I got the idea from a movie I was watching. A mom was buying an old van that had a CB radio and her child asked what the radio was. The salesman gave a quick answer saying that you just grab the walkie-talkie part, hit a button and talk to the heavens and the boy took him literally. He tried talking to the heavens to try to find answers.
It made me think about what I would happen if I could talk to Grampa and I wrote this. Again, not publish-worthy. Just something I wrote a few minutes ago.
If I Could Call Heaven
~Meghan D'Souza
If I could call Heaven
And talk to Grampa again,
I'd squeal with delight,
Ask how he's been.
He'd talk of reuniting
with his daughter and mother.
He'd say he's free of pain,
His legs and feet are not a bother.
He plays golf, still,
With friends, old and new.
He and his family watch us.
He'd say, "Especially you."
I'd hear the twinkle in his eyes
That I miss most of all.
"I love you, you Cute Fixin'," He'd say.
If I could given Heaven a call.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
Where does 10 years go?
I turned 27 this week. I can't figure out where time has gone since I was a senior in high school. I put my shirt on today thinking about how I recently bought it... then I remembered it was the summer before I turned 20.
On my actual birthday, I was thinking about how I swear I was just 17. A nerd in high school, involved in all sorts of activities, worrying about whether it was okay to stay home and go to community college like I really wanted or if I really should start at the university like my dad said... wondering why boys treated me like their sister and certain I would end up a cat lady. Working 35 hours a week, schooling 40 hours a week, sleeping 5, extracurriculars, volunteering and socializing the rest. I was always tired, but it didn't matter. I was always stressed, but my friends felt the same way. Seventeen was tough, but fun. The worst part was worrying about my future and if I was making the right choices and whether I was being judged by my decisions.
I learned quickly that you don't plan life. Life happens. And most importantly, who cares about someone judging. If I'm happy, I'm happy.
Ten years ago, I planned everything I did and it all basically happened. That's sort of how high school works. Once out of high school... life takes over. I got sick and had to work around that. It's hard to let go of the control I thought I had and let life take over. I learned to stop caring what people thought and care about my health. With this in mind, I received my BA, I interned as a journalist, I got married, I got a certificate to work as a medical transcriptionist, I moved to a new town, I worked in the WAY back of television, then I worked in television production, I left television, and now I find myself in the library.
When I was 17, I told myself I was going to study overseas and then work in television and then get married to a Scottish man when I was 17... or be a cat lady, despite my allergies and ill-feelings towards cats.
Turns out, I met my sweetheart right after high school and I prefer writing to television.
Who knows what curveballs life will throw at me in the next 10 years? I only know that 10 years feels like a blink of the eye.
On my actual birthday, I was thinking about how I swear I was just 17. A nerd in high school, involved in all sorts of activities, worrying about whether it was okay to stay home and go to community college like I really wanted or if I really should start at the university like my dad said... wondering why boys treated me like their sister and certain I would end up a cat lady. Working 35 hours a week, schooling 40 hours a week, sleeping 5, extracurriculars, volunteering and socializing the rest. I was always tired, but it didn't matter. I was always stressed, but my friends felt the same way. Seventeen was tough, but fun. The worst part was worrying about my future and if I was making the right choices and whether I was being judged by my decisions.
I learned quickly that you don't plan life. Life happens. And most importantly, who cares about someone judging. If I'm happy, I'm happy.
Ten years ago, I planned everything I did and it all basically happened. That's sort of how high school works. Once out of high school... life takes over. I got sick and had to work around that. It's hard to let go of the control I thought I had and let life take over. I learned to stop caring what people thought and care about my health. With this in mind, I received my BA, I interned as a journalist, I got married, I got a certificate to work as a medical transcriptionist, I moved to a new town, I worked in the WAY back of television, then I worked in television production, I left television, and now I find myself in the library.
When I was 17, I told myself I was going to study overseas and then work in television and then get married to a Scottish man when I was 17... or be a cat lady, despite my allergies and ill-feelings towards cats.
Turns out, I met my sweetheart right after high school and I prefer writing to television.
Who knows what curveballs life will throw at me in the next 10 years? I only know that 10 years feels like a blink of the eye.
Vacation: Summarized
Okay, so... if there isn't someone hovering over me with a deadline, I'm not good at writing my stories.
Here is my summer vacation in a quick summary.... good golly.
*I was brave and used the restroom with The World's Largest Spider watching me. I even stayed to wash my hands in there instead of the kitchen without screaming. I calmly left and told Jessica about the spider. She attacked with spray and handed me a Swiffer to jump on it as back up in case it came at us. When it looked like it was morphing into a something with greater strength, I hugged the Swiffer and ran. She was Batman, but I will never be a good Robin.
* Jessica has a humongous television. It's great because everyone is about my size, so I got up to the TV and "booty danced" with the people, waiting for Jessica to notice from the kitchen. Before she noticed, her fiance (who had only met me twice before this) walked into the room. He asked what I was doing. I told him I meant for Jessica to discover me.
Later, my phone rang, and he did my booty dance to my phone.
*Jessica told me that her weird neighbor was in the yard talking to her fiance. I wanted to know what the neighbor looked like, and I thought only the three of us were home. So I walked on my tip toes with my shoulders scrunched and slowly made my way to the window. Jessica left the room to do her hair. Before I got to the window, the door flew open and Jessica's future brother-in-law caught me being creepy and sneaky... all by myself.
I felt bad that I was all Jessica had to represent the family.
*Jessica had a wonderful rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. The dinner was at an awesome Texas BBQ restaurant, like nothing we'd find in Iowa. The Husband always has debates with Jessica about Pop vs Coke. At dinner, he discovered the waitress was from Michigan, so when she took drink orders, he said, "I'll have a POP and you know what I mean!!!" I couldn't believe him. The waitress thought he was a crack up and delivered his Dr. Pepper, then she turned to a young waitress and said, "Now, you make sure his POP is always filled, okay?? Don't let his POP get low!!" And the poor young waitress was so confused. She was looking all over and asked, "What's a pop?? What is pop???" And I leaned over all embarrassed and said, "It's coke." So she thought her coworker was serious and didn't let Kevin's soda get anywhere near empty.
*Jessica got married. She honestly looked like she came out of a Disney Princess story, she was so beautiful, with her hair down in curls and her make up done just right. Her dad and her groom were sooooooo handsome in their tuxes. The four flower girls were precious in their dresses. And I felt so pretty in the bridesmaid dress she picked out. Everything took place outside by a lake, under a beautifully decorated gazebo. Something I used to dream about, but was too paranoid to try... I was certain if I did that, it would rain. Everyone was hot but me, because it was at least 100 degrees. I must have a high tolerance. My robotic tendencies kicked in and I didn't cry. I just took in the beauty of their love and felt so happy for my cousin to find love and glad that she found someone who appreciates everything about her. There is so much to appreciate!
*The husband of my cousin Nicole tried to tell The Husband how to get into Dallas as part of our trip home. He said there are 8,000 ways in. As Kevin put it, we discovered all of the ways to stay out. We tried for a very long time to get IN to Dallas, but we got frustrated after an embarassing amount of time and decided it was just time to go to Arkansas.
*We intended to camp, but as it always goes, it rained. So we actually accidentally saw Bill Clinton's boyhood home. By "saw" I mean we drove by it quickly and then went to a place called Hot Springs, found a cool hotel suite for $50 and intended to experience the hot springs in the morning.
*We couldn't find any springs the next day. We drove up a mountain, had lunch and went to Memphis.
*In Memphis, I became a star in my own mind. We went to BB King's Club and watched an awesome blues band perform. I got all involved and danced while I ate, so they spotted me and asked me to come up and dance with them. I was like, "Hmm... This is scary... but fun... but...." Kevin told me, "GO!!" So I did. I thought I was a big deal
*I had made a pact with myself that I would karaoke alone this year. We were walking down the major street at found a (quiet) karaoke bar and I decided it was time. To make it feel safe, I sang "Hit Me Baby" in Britney Spears voice. THEN I got all confident and sang "Hopelessly Devoted" from Grease. The few people who were there were just as scared as me and we formed a bond from the singing and fright. It was fun.
*We walked down the street more that time and were stopped three times by people who knew me from karaoke or the dancing. One of the times was from the bassist in the band at BB King's. THEN Kevin and I were like, "We made it! We're a big deal!" ha
*We watched ducks at a hotel who line up every morning and every night in a single line, go to the elevator, ride down it, and waddle to the hotel's pond. It was cute!
*We went to the Civil Rights Museum located where Martin Luther King was assassinated. It was heart wrenching. To know that just in my parents' lifetime, people were treated inappropriately simply because their skin color was different is sickening. Abraham Lincoln's time wasn't the end, it was just the beginning. Segregated schools, separate drinking fountains, segregating the bus. Starting violence during their nonviolent walks for equality. It's upsetting. And actually seeing where MLK sat before he was shot and the spot where he was shot AND the spot were the assasin was.... ah!
On to something happier!!
*We went to Sun Studio, where Elvis started his career... and Johnny Cash recorded.... and even Maroon 5 has recorded!! I just couldn't get over the fact that I stood where Elvis had been. I love that man. love him. love.
*We ended our trip in MO where we spent the day at a water park being children. I was only brave enough for a waterslide once. I hate feeling like I'm going to fall off the slide. So we spent most of the day on the lazy river and the waaaave pooooool!!! I love the wave pool.
And that concludes my summary of the vacation.
Next up... thoughts about my birthday.
Here is my summer vacation in a quick summary.... good golly.
*I was brave and used the restroom with The World's Largest Spider watching me. I even stayed to wash my hands in there instead of the kitchen without screaming. I calmly left and told Jessica about the spider. She attacked with spray and handed me a Swiffer to jump on it as back up in case it came at us. When it looked like it was morphing into a something with greater strength, I hugged the Swiffer and ran. She was Batman, but I will never be a good Robin.
* Jessica has a humongous television. It's great because everyone is about my size, so I got up to the TV and "booty danced" with the people, waiting for Jessica to notice from the kitchen. Before she noticed, her fiance (who had only met me twice before this) walked into the room. He asked what I was doing. I told him I meant for Jessica to discover me.
Later, my phone rang, and he did my booty dance to my phone.
*Jessica told me that her weird neighbor was in the yard talking to her fiance. I wanted to know what the neighbor looked like, and I thought only the three of us were home. So I walked on my tip toes with my shoulders scrunched and slowly made my way to the window. Jessica left the room to do her hair. Before I got to the window, the door flew open and Jessica's future brother-in-law caught me being creepy and sneaky... all by myself.
I felt bad that I was all Jessica had to represent the family.
*Jessica had a wonderful rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. The dinner was at an awesome Texas BBQ restaurant, like nothing we'd find in Iowa. The Husband always has debates with Jessica about Pop vs Coke. At dinner, he discovered the waitress was from Michigan, so when she took drink orders, he said, "I'll have a POP and you know what I mean!!!" I couldn't believe him. The waitress thought he was a crack up and delivered his Dr. Pepper, then she turned to a young waitress and said, "Now, you make sure his POP is always filled, okay?? Don't let his POP get low!!" And the poor young waitress was so confused. She was looking all over and asked, "What's a pop?? What is pop???" And I leaned over all embarrassed and said, "It's coke." So she thought her coworker was serious and didn't let Kevin's soda get anywhere near empty.
*Jessica got married. She honestly looked like she came out of a Disney Princess story, she was so beautiful, with her hair down in curls and her make up done just right. Her dad and her groom were sooooooo handsome in their tuxes. The four flower girls were precious in their dresses. And I felt so pretty in the bridesmaid dress she picked out. Everything took place outside by a lake, under a beautifully decorated gazebo. Something I used to dream about, but was too paranoid to try... I was certain if I did that, it would rain. Everyone was hot but me, because it was at least 100 degrees. I must have a high tolerance. My robotic tendencies kicked in and I didn't cry. I just took in the beauty of their love and felt so happy for my cousin to find love and glad that she found someone who appreciates everything about her. There is so much to appreciate!
*The husband of my cousin Nicole tried to tell The Husband how to get into Dallas as part of our trip home. He said there are 8,000 ways in. As Kevin put it, we discovered all of the ways to stay out. We tried for a very long time to get IN to Dallas, but we got frustrated after an embarassing amount of time and decided it was just time to go to Arkansas.
*We intended to camp, but as it always goes, it rained. So we actually accidentally saw Bill Clinton's boyhood home. By "saw" I mean we drove by it quickly and then went to a place called Hot Springs, found a cool hotel suite for $50 and intended to experience the hot springs in the morning.
*We couldn't find any springs the next day. We drove up a mountain, had lunch and went to Memphis.
*In Memphis, I became a star in my own mind. We went to BB King's Club and watched an awesome blues band perform. I got all involved and danced while I ate, so they spotted me and asked me to come up and dance with them. I was like, "Hmm... This is scary... but fun... but...." Kevin told me, "GO!!" So I did. I thought I was a big deal
*I had made a pact with myself that I would karaoke alone this year. We were walking down the major street at found a (quiet) karaoke bar and I decided it was time. To make it feel safe, I sang "Hit Me Baby" in Britney Spears voice. THEN I got all confident and sang "Hopelessly Devoted" from Grease. The few people who were there were just as scared as me and we formed a bond from the singing and fright. It was fun.
*We walked down the street more that time and were stopped three times by people who knew me from karaoke or the dancing. One of the times was from the bassist in the band at BB King's. THEN Kevin and I were like, "We made it! We're a big deal!" ha
*We watched ducks at a hotel who line up every morning and every night in a single line, go to the elevator, ride down it, and waddle to the hotel's pond. It was cute!
*We went to the Civil Rights Museum located where Martin Luther King was assassinated. It was heart wrenching. To know that just in my parents' lifetime, people were treated inappropriately simply because their skin color was different is sickening. Abraham Lincoln's time wasn't the end, it was just the beginning. Segregated schools, separate drinking fountains, segregating the bus. Starting violence during their nonviolent walks for equality. It's upsetting. And actually seeing where MLK sat before he was shot and the spot where he was shot AND the spot were the assasin was.... ah!
On to something happier!!
*We went to Sun Studio, where Elvis started his career... and Johnny Cash recorded.... and even Maroon 5 has recorded!! I just couldn't get over the fact that I stood where Elvis had been. I love that man. love him. love.
*We ended our trip in MO where we spent the day at a water park being children. I was only brave enough for a waterslide once. I hate feeling like I'm going to fall off the slide. So we spent most of the day on the lazy river and the waaaave pooooool!!! I love the wave pool.
And that concludes my summary of the vacation.
Next up... thoughts about my birthday.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Summer Vacation- Pt 1: Getting to Texas
I need to start spillin' about my summer vacation before I forget what happened!
First of all, you need to know that I flew to Texas to prepare for and be in my cousin Jessica's wedding. My husband K drove down the day before the wedding, enjoyed the wedding, then we had a road trip home. I will get into the details of the road trip as I type about those days.
So my flight itinerary was to leave Iowa at 9:30 am, quick stop in Chicago, quickly stop in Houston and be in Dallas by 5 pm. Sort of a long day of travel, but I was excited to be there in time for dinner, slip on my PJs and laze it up with my cousin. Though we had last minute things to do, I mostly wanted to make sure she got a lot of laziness in... we're pretty good at that when we're together.
In reality, I got from Iowa to Chicago just fine. My flight to Chicago left twenty minutes late... Meaning I just missed my flight to Houston. MAYBE if Houston's airport was the size of downtown Iowa City, I would have been good. But no. I had to do one of those fast walks where your hips sway all fast and your elbows and shoulders move all funny all the way to an escalator that took me to some tunnel that told me to wait for five minutes for a train that took ten minutes to take me to terminals B, C, the Marriot, D and finally terminal E when I started to wonder if we were going to make pit stops and grab lunch. That took me out of the airport so I had to go through security where the guard thought it'd be great to try to flirt with me for five minutes while I basically shouted back at his flirtatious advances, "NO, I'M NOT 22! YES I LOOK YOUNG!! NO, MY TICKET DOESN'T SAY JOHANNESBURG!" until he'd let me leave and by the time I found my gate, the attendants sadly shook their heads and said plane was long gone.
I called Jessica before I even got to my gate, because I knew the plane would be gone and that she'd be on her way to pick me up. I was incredibly grumpy because I had not slept well, but she always makes me smile. So she fixed my mood right up. I easily got a ticket and discovered that I wouldn't be leaving for Dallas until 6:30 and by Jessica's side until 8. I emotionally ate an overpriced sandwich, sat at my gate, grumbled about how my iPod wasn't recieving a wifi signal and shut my eyes by 4 o'clock.
I was just half asleep, sort of dreaming, but aware of my surroundings. I heard a boarding call for a flight to Orange County and kept my eyes closed while I heard people board. After about five calls for boarding, a man lightly touched my arm to ask if I was going to Orange County. I sighed, smiled and said no, but genuinely thanked him for asking. In my half sleep, I was grumpily thinking, "Are these people just going to let me sleep and possibly miss my flight?? Or do I just look that together, like I totally know what I'm doing??"
He felt bad for waking me up, but I genuinely thanked him again, because, seriously, what if it was my flight? And he said that he had slept through his boarding call before and didn't want that to happen. Not me. I just had an unexpected three hours to kill.
I closed my eyes and suddenly a family appeared next to me. It felt like there were hundreds of them. Things multiply and are way exaggerated when you are sleepy and grumpy. These dozens of siblings were speaking a combination of Spanish and English. At first, I thought it was pretty cool. In one sentence they would say, "Do you want a..." and then... "burrito."
Ha, kidding.
No, in one conversation they would say something like, "Tiene perro! Y el perro es so cute and fluffy!" But it got old fast, because I couldn't tell if I was awake or dreaming and they were cramping my sprawling space. So I moved to a quieter space. I had four empty seats around me. I quickly got annoyed, however, because I could feels eyes on me. They were the eyes of a dude sitting with his legs pointing towards me, chomping on food, and talking endlessly on his phone. And by phone, I mean blue tooth. You know, the phone that's hidden in his ear, so it looked like he was talking to himself. Only, in his annoying slang and with his legs pointed towards me, it looked like he was shouting at me for the rest of our stay at the gate.
I was not having fun. I wanted to be with Jessica.
The flight prepared me for my stay in Texas. I sat next to a couple with a very strong accent. My family has a cute little twang. I felt like these folks were planted to sit by me just because I was easily annoyed on this day. The man had to complain about everything and his wife had to whine back.
"Whah, dontchoo caawl yer day-ad?" he'd bark
"Cuz Ah dun feel lahk ee-it." She'd whine in a cartoony voice.
"But I just wanted quiet neighbors so I could sleep," I'd bark in my head.
FINALLY, after half of a can of soda --remember the days when you got two full cans of soda AND a snack??-- we landed in Dallas. I wanted to fall to the ground and kiss it. I was going to see my Jessica in just minutes! Get to her house in an hour, put on our jammies, talk for a while and.... SLEEP!!
Fortunately, despite my problems with the plane, my luggage was fine. I was bursting with excitement, all grumpiness forgotten (until now), as soon as I saw Jessica. We fell into our usually goofy ways as we grabbed my luggage (I nearly left with someone else's... then didn't believe that mine belonged to me even though my name was on the flight sticker, so I opened it, baring my unmentionables to the world) and got to her car.
We happily headed to her house... realizing too late that we were heading an hour out of her way, so we actually got there TWO hours after I landed. But at least we got there. This just gave us an extra hour to jam to New Kids on the Block.
Then I was greeted at the door by her charming now-husband with a hunting gun in his hands.
First of all, you need to know that I flew to Texas to prepare for and be in my cousin Jessica's wedding. My husband K drove down the day before the wedding, enjoyed the wedding, then we had a road trip home. I will get into the details of the road trip as I type about those days.
So my flight itinerary was to leave Iowa at 9:30 am, quick stop in Chicago, quickly stop in Houston and be in Dallas by 5 pm. Sort of a long day of travel, but I was excited to be there in time for dinner, slip on my PJs and laze it up with my cousin. Though we had last minute things to do, I mostly wanted to make sure she got a lot of laziness in... we're pretty good at that when we're together.
In reality, I got from Iowa to Chicago just fine. My flight to Chicago left twenty minutes late... Meaning I just missed my flight to Houston. MAYBE if Houston's airport was the size of downtown Iowa City, I would have been good. But no. I had to do one of those fast walks where your hips sway all fast and your elbows and shoulders move all funny all the way to an escalator that took me to some tunnel that told me to wait for five minutes for a train that took ten minutes to take me to terminals B, C, the Marriot, D and finally terminal E when I started to wonder if we were going to make pit stops and grab lunch. That took me out of the airport so I had to go through security where the guard thought it'd be great to try to flirt with me for five minutes while I basically shouted back at his flirtatious advances, "NO, I'M NOT 22! YES I LOOK YOUNG!! NO, MY TICKET DOESN'T SAY JOHANNESBURG!" until he'd let me leave and by the time I found my gate, the attendants sadly shook their heads and said plane was long gone.
I called Jessica before I even got to my gate, because I knew the plane would be gone and that she'd be on her way to pick me up. I was incredibly grumpy because I had not slept well, but she always makes me smile. So she fixed my mood right up. I easily got a ticket and discovered that I wouldn't be leaving for Dallas until 6:30 and by Jessica's side until 8. I emotionally ate an overpriced sandwich, sat at my gate, grumbled about how my iPod wasn't recieving a wifi signal and shut my eyes by 4 o'clock.
I was just half asleep, sort of dreaming, but aware of my surroundings. I heard a boarding call for a flight to Orange County and kept my eyes closed while I heard people board. After about five calls for boarding, a man lightly touched my arm to ask if I was going to Orange County. I sighed, smiled and said no, but genuinely thanked him for asking. In my half sleep, I was grumpily thinking, "Are these people just going to let me sleep and possibly miss my flight?? Or do I just look that together, like I totally know what I'm doing??"
He felt bad for waking me up, but I genuinely thanked him again, because, seriously, what if it was my flight? And he said that he had slept through his boarding call before and didn't want that to happen. Not me. I just had an unexpected three hours to kill.
I closed my eyes and suddenly a family appeared next to me. It felt like there were hundreds of them. Things multiply and are way exaggerated when you are sleepy and grumpy. These dozens of siblings were speaking a combination of Spanish and English. At first, I thought it was pretty cool. In one sentence they would say, "Do you want a..." and then... "burrito."
Ha, kidding.
No, in one conversation they would say something like, "Tiene perro! Y el perro es so cute and fluffy!" But it got old fast, because I couldn't tell if I was awake or dreaming and they were cramping my sprawling space. So I moved to a quieter space. I had four empty seats around me. I quickly got annoyed, however, because I could feels eyes on me. They were the eyes of a dude sitting with his legs pointing towards me, chomping on food, and talking endlessly on his phone. And by phone, I mean blue tooth. You know, the phone that's hidden in his ear, so it looked like he was talking to himself. Only, in his annoying slang and with his legs pointed towards me, it looked like he was shouting at me for the rest of our stay at the gate.
I was not having fun. I wanted to be with Jessica.
The flight prepared me for my stay in Texas. I sat next to a couple with a very strong accent. My family has a cute little twang. I felt like these folks were planted to sit by me just because I was easily annoyed on this day. The man had to complain about everything and his wife had to whine back.
"Whah, dontchoo caawl yer day-ad?" he'd bark
"Cuz Ah dun feel lahk ee-it." She'd whine in a cartoony voice.
"But I just wanted quiet neighbors so I could sleep," I'd bark in my head.
FINALLY, after half of a can of soda --remember the days when you got two full cans of soda AND a snack??-- we landed in Dallas. I wanted to fall to the ground and kiss it. I was going to see my Jessica in just minutes! Get to her house in an hour, put on our jammies, talk for a while and.... SLEEP!!
Fortunately, despite my problems with the plane, my luggage was fine. I was bursting with excitement, all grumpiness forgotten (until now), as soon as I saw Jessica. We fell into our usually goofy ways as we grabbed my luggage (I nearly left with someone else's... then didn't believe that mine belonged to me even though my name was on the flight sticker, so I opened it, baring my unmentionables to the world) and got to her car.
We happily headed to her house... realizing too late that we were heading an hour out of her way, so we actually got there TWO hours after I landed. But at least we got there. This just gave us an extra hour to jam to New Kids on the Block.
Then I was greeted at the door by her charming now-husband with a hunting gun in his hands.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Aging
I wanted to jazz my page up a bit, because I go to other blogger sites and see that their pages are all decked out with cute photos on the top. I can usually figure out how to fancy up my business within about ten minutes or so. Since this blog is supposed to be about ME, MY thoughts and hopefully some sort of representation of MY strange life, I decided to pick a few pictures of ME and wanted to have them border the top of MY blog.
But it isn't working quite right. I've spent at least an hour trying to figure out how to make my page look unique and now I've ended up making it so you have to scroll to see large, deformed photos of myself. Could this inability to figure out how to just center a few photos of myself on a webpage mean... that I am getting old?
I really think the first sign of aging is that you become out of touch with the latest in technology. Then you lose track of the latest singers and bands. Then People Magazine doesn't make sense because you don't recognize any of the actors in the pages. Then... you don't understand what anyone is saying because the darn lingo is so silly. People are "LOL"ing and "WTF"ing with their "BFF"s in the hippest "swag." How are we supposed to get around with this chatter?
How am I supposed to have an eye-catching webpage if I can't figure out how to make it look like ME after an hour of tinkering?
This is what I get for turning 27 next month.
In other quick news, I want to prove that I DID fish after my last blog. I touched worms AND I touched a fish. Just have a look for yourself:
I know. That sucker is HUGE. I'm da man.
But it isn't working quite right. I've spent at least an hour trying to figure out how to make my page look unique and now I've ended up making it so you have to scroll to see large, deformed photos of myself. Could this inability to figure out how to just center a few photos of myself on a webpage mean... that I am getting old?
I really think the first sign of aging is that you become out of touch with the latest in technology. Then you lose track of the latest singers and bands. Then People Magazine doesn't make sense because you don't recognize any of the actors in the pages. Then... you don't understand what anyone is saying because the darn lingo is so silly. People are "LOL"ing and "WTF"ing with their "BFF"s in the hippest "swag." How are we supposed to get around with this chatter?
How am I supposed to have an eye-catching webpage if I can't figure out how to make it look like ME after an hour of tinkering?
This is what I get for turning 27 next month.
In other quick news, I want to prove that I DID fish after my last blog. I touched worms AND I touched a fish. Just have a look for yourself:
I know. That sucker is HUGE. I'm da man.
Friday, June 12, 2009
I like to think I'm outdoorsy
I have a fun day ahead of me tomorrow. My cousin who is my best friend, her fiance, and I are heading to our family's big farm and livin' the outdoor life.
First, we are fishing. Now, The Fiance is an actual fisherman. In face, he recently caught a catfish who truly looked to be about 4 ft tall. No joke. The picture both amazed and frighten me. The good part for him and my cousin is that they will be eating well... probably until their 5th wedding anniversary. Anyway, I always get excited about the idea of fishing. Being out in nature, under the sun, surrounded by trees, hearing nothing by birds and the occasional splash of a fish. It's all so serene. I love it. Then I get the ol' fishin' pole in my hand and my stomach jumps a little when I notice just how sharp the hook is on the end of the stringy thingy at the end of the pole. But I still get a little confident when it comes to casting. My uncle, my cousin who is a nature enthusiast and my Grampa all gave me lessons when I was a little girl. Start with my arm behind me, stick my thumb on the button thing at 11 o'clock and let 'er loose at 2 o'clock. When I was 10, I rocked out at casting.
Of course, before casting comes baiting. But, uh, well, The Cousin and I aren't really crazy about worms. Lucky for us, she learned in elementary school that hot dogs are the perfect bait. It's a little known but true fact, as we used this as bait last year and The Cousin and our Grampa both caught fish with it.
So, I bait my terrifyingly sharp hook with a tasty hot dog, resisting the urge to take a bite of it myself. Then my stomach jumps when I toss the pole back, because I'm always so certain the sharp hook is going to get stuck on my leg somehow, I push the button deal, I release at 2 o'clock waiting for the magic and!
The hook falls two feet in front of me.
I don't get how I did this so impressively when I was 10 and then when I do this now, I can't get the line (Oh yeah! That's what the stringy thing is called!) to go way out in the water. So it's good that we'll have a real fisherman with us. We might have to use worms, but I'm challenging myself to step across my comfort zone more often, so I'll try the worm thing this year if I must. I'm not promising that I will do it without squealing, but at least I'm going to try.
After that, we will cruise around the farm on a mule. Back when we got the mule and the family was raving about it, I thought they were talking about the actual animal. I was imagining my Grampa and three others from the family galloping around the farm on a mule to "make it easier for him to get around." I mean, it sounded fun, but I didn't really get why we needed a mule. And how could it possibly fit four of us? And wouldn't it get tired? I always forget how many acres this farm is, but it's pretty impressive. The mule would get tired going from one side, through the woods, and to the open field. I don't know how it would carry four people back in by lunch. I don't know how it would even get to the other side of the farm by lunch.
It turns out a mule is a vehicle. Ours is something like this picture on the left. It seats for and you can carry things in the back. My Grampa would take us on tours of the farm, then randomly stop without telling us what he was doing, go to the back, grab a saw, walk up to a tree, saw off a vine, return the saw, and continue the tour, acting like he never left the mule.
In my lifetime, a vehicle like the mule never existed at the farm. We would go to the farm in Grampa's truck, drive it as close to the timber as we could, and tromp around through the woods. There are streams to walk through, paths to search for arrowheads in, a cave to explore. The cave has carvings in it that date back to the 1800s. It's an amazing place and when there has been enough rain, it is the site of a beautiful, but modest, waterfall.
Now, we still experience these beautiful sites. We just get to them by bumpin' in the mule instead of the truck. Sometimes... it's possible that TWO of the THREE of us going tomorrow have made fools of ourselves and have had to make a fast escape in the mule, driving at a quick 20 MPH. We feel like we're alone out there in all of those acres, but there is a farmer who keeps the fields up for us. You heard me. 20 of them.
Driving in the mule (not riding on one) does add to the experience. Having the summer air blowing around you is an amazing feeling. It makes you untouchable. And to me, nothing quite reaches the smell of a summer evening in the country. It's heavy, it's fresh, it has hints of grass and flowers. It reminds me of the carefree nights playing outside as a kid. Combine that with riding around on the mule at sunset with someone I love more than myself, The Cousin, and it feels like life can't get any better.
After an evening drive, we are going camping. Well, sort of. The Husband is camping this weekend by Lake Michigan. He is using his tent. He will build a fire from scratch and have his dinner made over the fire. He will hear raccoons quarrel when he's sleeping. That's camping. The Cousin, The Fiance and I are sleeping in a lodge. We're cooking our dinner on a grill because we want to, not because we have to. We might build a fire from scratch, also because it sounds like fun. But our bathroom has only been used by family members and friends. Families of daddy long legs won't be watching us when we need to take care of business in there. In fact, the bathroom looks better than my very own restroom at home. It was built and decorated by Amish neighbors. There are three bedrooms, eight (?) beds, a living room with a television and a kitchen with all of the appliances we could possibly need, including a George Foreman grill, in case we didn't want to use the outdoor grill. The only thing missing is air conditioning. Yes, we even have heated water.
That's how we camp. That's how outdoorsy I am.
First, we are fishing. Now, The Fiance is an actual fisherman. In face, he recently caught a catfish who truly looked to be about 4 ft tall. No joke. The picture both amazed and frighten me. The good part for him and my cousin is that they will be eating well... probably until their 5th wedding anniversary. Anyway, I always get excited about the idea of fishing. Being out in nature, under the sun, surrounded by trees, hearing nothing by birds and the occasional splash of a fish. It's all so serene. I love it. Then I get the ol' fishin' pole in my hand and my stomach jumps a little when I notice just how sharp the hook is on the end of the stringy thingy at the end of the pole. But I still get a little confident when it comes to casting. My uncle, my cousin who is a nature enthusiast and my Grampa all gave me lessons when I was a little girl. Start with my arm behind me, stick my thumb on the button thing at 11 o'clock and let 'er loose at 2 o'clock. When I was 10, I rocked out at casting.
Of course, before casting comes baiting. But, uh, well, The Cousin and I aren't really crazy about worms. Lucky for us, she learned in elementary school that hot dogs are the perfect bait. It's a little known but true fact, as we used this as bait last year and The Cousin and our Grampa both caught fish with it.
So, I bait my terrifyingly sharp hook with a tasty hot dog, resisting the urge to take a bite of it myself. Then my stomach jumps when I toss the pole back, because I'm always so certain the sharp hook is going to get stuck on my leg somehow, I push the button deal, I release at 2 o'clock waiting for the magic and!
The hook falls two feet in front of me.
I don't get how I did this so impressively when I was 10 and then when I do this now, I can't get the line (Oh yeah! That's what the stringy thing is called!) to go way out in the water. So it's good that we'll have a real fisherman with us. We might have to use worms, but I'm challenging myself to step across my comfort zone more often, so I'll try the worm thing this year if I must. I'm not promising that I will do it without squealing, but at least I'm going to try.
After that, we will cruise around the farm on a mule. Back when we got the mule and the family was raving about it, I thought they were talking about the actual animal. I was imagining my Grampa and three others from the family galloping around the farm on a mule to "make it easier for him to get around." I mean, it sounded fun, but I didn't really get why we needed a mule. And how could it possibly fit four of us? And wouldn't it get tired? I always forget how many acres this farm is, but it's pretty impressive. The mule would get tired going from one side, through the woods, and to the open field. I don't know how it would carry four people back in by lunch. I don't know how it would even get to the other side of the farm by lunch.
It turns out a mule is a vehicle. Ours is something like this picture on the left. It seats for and you can carry things in the back. My Grampa would take us on tours of the farm, then randomly stop without telling us what he was doing, go to the back, grab a saw, walk up to a tree, saw off a vine, return the saw, and continue the tour, acting like he never left the mule.
In my lifetime, a vehicle like the mule never existed at the farm. We would go to the farm in Grampa's truck, drive it as close to the timber as we could, and tromp around through the woods. There are streams to walk through, paths to search for arrowheads in, a cave to explore. The cave has carvings in it that date back to the 1800s. It's an amazing place and when there has been enough rain, it is the site of a beautiful, but modest, waterfall.
Now, we still experience these beautiful sites. We just get to them by bumpin' in the mule instead of the truck. Sometimes... it's possible that TWO of the THREE of us going tomorrow have made fools of ourselves and have had to make a fast escape in the mule, driving at a quick 20 MPH. We feel like we're alone out there in all of those acres, but there is a farmer who keeps the fields up for us. You heard me. 20 of them.
Driving in the mule (not riding on one) does add to the experience. Having the summer air blowing around you is an amazing feeling. It makes you untouchable. And to me, nothing quite reaches the smell of a summer evening in the country. It's heavy, it's fresh, it has hints of grass and flowers. It reminds me of the carefree nights playing outside as a kid. Combine that with riding around on the mule at sunset with someone I love more than myself, The Cousin, and it feels like life can't get any better.
After an evening drive, we are going camping. Well, sort of. The Husband is camping this weekend by Lake Michigan. He is using his tent. He will build a fire from scratch and have his dinner made over the fire. He will hear raccoons quarrel when he's sleeping. That's camping. The Cousin, The Fiance and I are sleeping in a lodge. We're cooking our dinner on a grill because we want to, not because we have to. We might build a fire from scratch, also because it sounds like fun. But our bathroom has only been used by family members and friends. Families of daddy long legs won't be watching us when we need to take care of business in there. In fact, the bathroom looks better than my very own restroom at home. It was built and decorated by Amish neighbors. There are three bedrooms, eight (?) beds, a living room with a television and a kitchen with all of the appliances we could possibly need, including a George Foreman grill, in case we didn't want to use the outdoor grill. The only thing missing is air conditioning. Yes, we even have heated water.
That's how we camp. That's how outdoorsy I am.
Monday, June 8, 2009
I just wanted a hot dog
I've been on a hot dog kick lately. I don't know why, but I've been craving 'em and one dog does the trick.
So it was no surprise during work this evening that I began to crave a hot dog and promised myself a quick bite during my break. Seeing as how I work right downtown in a city with all sorts of food carts, I thought it would be no problem to find a hot dog stand. We have a grilled cheese stand here. A gyro stand. You can run into the pizza shop connected to my workplace and grab a really tasty slice in just one minute. Much to my dismay, though, there was no hot dog stand. A gyro stand, for crying out loud, but no hot dog stand.
So I decided to check out the market across the ped mall and see what they had to offer. They have a little bakery and like to tempt me with their cheesecakes and cookies. I often sneak over there for their super sugary coffees. I also happened to notice they had a little deli and thought maybe, if luck was on my side, that little deli might have a hot dog just for me.
So I tried to look inconspicuous and search the menu for "hot dog," but I wasn't inconspicuous enough. The deli dude spotted me right away and asked how he could help me. At that same moment, something caught my eye. I failed to mention that this market likes to put weird names for their items on their menus. For instance, my favorite coffee is sadly called something like cardiac attack or something totally grim like that. So, anyway, the moment the guy found me and asked how he could help me, my eyes landed on something called, "Hot Butt." Hot butt, hot dog... I don't know where hot dogs come from, so I thought maybe this was a funny name for the "gross meat" that goes into my hot dog.
So I approached the counter, set my arms on it and asked, "Could you tell me... exactly what is a hot butt?"
There was a moment of silence and he asked me to repeat myself. I looked back up at the sign, because my vision is a little blurry and I wanted to make sure it really was two separate "t's" and not an "n" at the end. It was, so I said, "What is a hot butt??"
He looked at me like I was kidding. He asked me where I saw that and I said it was on his menu, under "Premium Meats."
He said he had no clue what "it" was... I guess he didn't want to be so bold as to say, "a hot butt." I told him that I had been hoping it was a hot dog, slumped my shoulders over and walked away, grabbing a chicken sandwich on my way out.
Later it occurred to me that I could have avoided the whole odd conversation by just asking if they served hot dogs. I don't know why I don't just say what I want, sometimes, instead of ending up having these strange exchanges.
So it was no surprise during work this evening that I began to crave a hot dog and promised myself a quick bite during my break. Seeing as how I work right downtown in a city with all sorts of food carts, I thought it would be no problem to find a hot dog stand. We have a grilled cheese stand here. A gyro stand. You can run into the pizza shop connected to my workplace and grab a really tasty slice in just one minute. Much to my dismay, though, there was no hot dog stand. A gyro stand, for crying out loud, but no hot dog stand.
So I decided to check out the market across the ped mall and see what they had to offer. They have a little bakery and like to tempt me with their cheesecakes and cookies. I often sneak over there for their super sugary coffees. I also happened to notice they had a little deli and thought maybe, if luck was on my side, that little deli might have a hot dog just for me.
So I tried to look inconspicuous and search the menu for "hot dog," but I wasn't inconspicuous enough. The deli dude spotted me right away and asked how he could help me. At that same moment, something caught my eye. I failed to mention that this market likes to put weird names for their items on their menus. For instance, my favorite coffee is sadly called something like cardiac attack or something totally grim like that. So, anyway, the moment the guy found me and asked how he could help me, my eyes landed on something called, "Hot Butt." Hot butt, hot dog... I don't know where hot dogs come from, so I thought maybe this was a funny name for the "gross meat" that goes into my hot dog.
So I approached the counter, set my arms on it and asked, "Could you tell me... exactly what is a hot butt?"
There was a moment of silence and he asked me to repeat myself. I looked back up at the sign, because my vision is a little blurry and I wanted to make sure it really was two separate "t's" and not an "n" at the end. It was, so I said, "What is a hot butt??"
He looked at me like I was kidding. He asked me where I saw that and I said it was on his menu, under "Premium Meats."
He said he had no clue what "it" was... I guess he didn't want to be so bold as to say, "a hot butt." I told him that I had been hoping it was a hot dog, slumped my shoulders over and walked away, grabbing a chicken sandwich on my way out.
Later it occurred to me that I could have avoided the whole odd conversation by just asking if they served hot dogs. I don't know why I don't just say what I want, sometimes, instead of ending up having these strange exchanges.
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