A few days before my twenty-second birthday, I found myself in a date rape situation. A bad combination of a recently prescribed antidepressant and a few shots of vodka with a girlfriend and two guys that I trusted resulted in a night that to this very day I can only remember in very short flashes.
I'm not going to share the details of the night, because they're not important anymore. But I did want to tell you what happened in the following days. The next morning, I woke up in my own bed in my dad's apartment undressed from the waist down. I walked over to my girlfriend's apartment to check on her because I genuinely believed at that point I'd been drugged. We had coffee and I eventually went home to shower and go to work. I ran into him in the cafeteria at lunchtime and when I asked him what happened he lied to me. When I called him out on his lie, he back-tracked and lied again in a different direction. I stopped listening. After work, I called my ex - the one person around me I thought could point me in the right direction - and we went out to dinner. He expected to hear a story about some silly boy troubles. When I told him what happened, he turned six shades of white and was the first one to say the "R"-word.
The next morning, after the girlfriend and I went to the apartment gym to jog on the treadmill and talk things through, I called my mom and told her. Then I went home and told my dad. The rest of the day was sort of a blur of witness statements, interviews, a pelvic exam, and uncomfortable drives.
I didn't want to press charges. The guy had a young kid and I couldn't bear the idea of the kid losing his dad, or the dad losing his job, because of me. I only wanted to tell my story in case it happened to someone else; maybe that person would have a stronger case.
They said it didn't work like that.
While trying to verify the name I had given them, they found a mug shot and showed it to me. It was the same guy, a few years earlier, charged with domestic battery. There's nothing quite so jarring as seeing the mug shot of someone you once viewed as a potential boyfriend and finding out the guy has a history of (at the very least) disrespecting women.
So I pressed charges.
As it so often happens, it turns out I went through all of that only to be on the wrong side of a very weak he-said-she-said situation. After the detective spoke with both of us, he was never even charged. I wasn't surprised. To this day, I sometimes question whether I was more responsible for his actions than I believed at the time. Obviously the guy was a scumbag, and in retrospect I missed some pretty obvious tells. Plus, I'm the one who didn't bother reading the alcohol warning on my prescription pills.
Anyway, why bring all this up now? Well, the same quote keeps coming up in the comments on stories about the Penn State incidents: "all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." Today I came across stories of multiple survivors of childhood sexual abuse who say that the acts against them were witnessed, and that the other adult did not intervene.
And while it's easy to point the finger at everyone who looked the other way and say "I would have intervened/called 911/beat the shit out of the guy," I wonder how many people really would have done any of those things. Doing the right thing is hard. Had it not been for one strong voice of reason in my life, I doubt I would have even reported an attack against me.
I lack courage. There are a lot of points in my life I could point to and say not just "I should have handled that differently," but simply "I should have handled that." (If that movie "Defending Your Life" is real, I am definitely coming back to Earth the next time around!) I have seen so many wrongs in my life and I don't think I've ever really stood up to any of them. The job Scott has? I never even pursued that career path because I didn't think I could handle people being fired or arrested because I caught them doing something wrong. I knew I'd blame myself.
But in place of courage, I've got an amazing ability to see the good where others don't. I think that people deserve a second chance. And I'd like to believe that Joe, misguided though he was, thought his friend of half a lifetime deserved a second chance. And until I hear something that changes my mind, I'm going to continue to believe that his legacy, while obviously tarnished, still shows a man deserving of the respect of the Penn State community. Let's not forget that that quote involves "good men." I'm not ready to give up on the idea that Joe is, for the most part, a good man.
Of course, the story seems to keep getting worse. If he was part of a cover-up that spanned three decades in order to save the University (or himself) from embarrassment... if he really did know about the allegations and continued to let Sandusky bring children to University-sponsored events... then maybe he wasn't a good man after all. But right now, as someone who knows how hard it is to report a crime - to stand up and say to a friend "what you did is NOT okay" - I'm going to continue to believe the best of him a little while longer.
10 November, 2011
09 November, 2011
Blue
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| Photo Credit |
Assuming that the allegations against Jerry Sandusky are true, there was a monster in our midst and none of us knew it. Assuming the reports are correct, Sandusky was caught doing horrible things to children at least twice by Penn State employees on the Penn State campus and the University failed to investigate. And now an attempt by the University to look the other way and pretend that nothing bad had happened has backfired in a way that none of those involved had anticipated.
This is probably a good time for me to make abundantly clear that I find Sandusky's alleged behavior disgusting and deplorable. There is nothing ok about using your position of power and authority to abuse children. There is nothing ok about a sexual predator being allowed to continue work with at-risk youth after the first allegation was raised.
And while I am sickened by Jerry Sandusky's decades of abuse, I find myself sad that Joe Paterno's career is ending because he only did what he had to and not what he should have done. Because Joe didn't stand up to his boss and his boss's boss based on the word of a graduate assistant, his entire legacy is tarnished.
Let's remember that Joe did not commit a crime. Frankly, if the coach at a school like Miami or Auburn found himself in the exact same situation, no one would be rounding up a lynch mob or even raising an eyebrow. Joe's big crime here is not living up to his own high standards.
And to those like Piers Morgan who think that Joe doesn't deserve to be remembered as anything but "a guy who helped cover up sickening child abuse," I ask you to consider whether you think you should be remembered by your biggest mistake. Do you think you should be forced out of a job you have done (and done well) for most of your life because you went along with the decisions of the person responsible for your employment? Have you ever looked back and thought, "yeah, I could have handled _____ better. I'm glad I got a second chance?"
Unfortunately, Penn State's failure to act in the first place changed the story from "former PSU assistant coach abused a child" to "Penn State Sex Scandal Cover-Up Involves Coach, Administration." I think Joe's decision to retire is what's best for the University community at this point. I think that Graham Spanier, Mike McQueary (who, amazingly, is exactly as "guilty" as Joe and possibly more considering he parlayed an assistant job to a coaching job at the exact time of these allegations), and whomever was running The Second Mile nine years ago should step down.
In the statement he released today, Joe said:
“I am absolutely devastated by the developments in this case. I grieve for the children and their families, and I pray for their comfort and relief...
This is a tragedy. It is one of the great sorrows of my life. With the benefit of hindsight, I wish I had done more."
To me as a once and future Penn State student, Joe Paterno will always be more than just a football coach with a lot of wins. He'll be the man whose personal donations doubled the size of the Penn State library. He'll be a class act - the coach with higher standards of conduct than anyone else coaching today. He'll be the ultimate Penn Stater. He's larger than life...a living legend. He is Penn State.
25 October, 2011
Fresh? Not So...
After last summer's near-death experience with a car air-freshener, it should come as no surprise to you that I'm not really fond of scented anything. Even before that, I've always found most fragrances overwhelming.
Cinnamon brooms at Publix? Sorry Scott, you'll have to do that corner of the store yourself.
Powdered carpet cleaner? I'll just avoid that room for a few days.
I even remember trying to hold my breath in the "stinky aisle" of cleaning products as a kid. (of course, I also remember freezing to death in the freezer aisles. it's possible the only part of the store I did like was the free cookie part!)
Cinnamon brooms at Publix? Sorry Scott, you'll have to do that corner of the store yourself.
Powdered carpet cleaner? I'll just avoid that room for a few days.
I even remember trying to hold my breath in the "stinky aisle" of cleaning products as a kid. (of course, I also remember freezing to death in the freezer aisles. it's possible the only part of the store I did like was the free cookie part!)
20 October, 2011
Before the Afterbirth
At last count, I have about a half-dozen friends and acquaintances on Facebook who are pregnant (or the male equivalent). In the past few months I've seen ultrasound pictures and videos, status updates from cribs to cravings, and everything inbetween.
And for the most part, I've been uncharacteristically quiet. These little social media baby booms are always sort of tough on me emotionally. Scott and I decided many moons ago to take the "if it happens, it happens" approach to parenthood, knowing that more than likely it wouldn't just happen. And more and more the idea of having a kid alternately terrifies and annoys me (have you SEEN the cost of a family healthcare plan? clothes? furniture? daycare?). But every time it comes up I'm hit with pangs of jealousy, bitterness and a little bit of "what if?" Don't get me wrong - I've done enough soul searching to know that I am already a complete person who doesn't need a baby to feel whole. (not that I'm saying any of you "need" a baby - I'm just rather clumsily saying don't worry about me)
But this post is only partly about me. It's a cautionary heads-up to those of you who fall into the "expecting" category. I love you all. And I already love your babies. Even when I can't say it out loud, know that I'm overwhelmingly happy for you. I can't wait to see the 8,000 pictures of every milestone of your precious angel's early years. But I'm going to let you in on a secret that your other friends might not tell you:
The miracle of childbirth? It's gross. It's awe-inspiring to the people involved (even just as a spectator), but to the people outside that room, it's bloody and there's a lot of ick involved. And most of your co-workers, your college drinking buddies, and maybe even your own family members just don't want to see what you might be tempted to share on Facebook.
So here's my sincere request: if you are at all tempted to post pictures of the following:
And for the most part, I've been uncharacteristically quiet. These little social media baby booms are always sort of tough on me emotionally. Scott and I decided many moons ago to take the "if it happens, it happens" approach to parenthood, knowing that more than likely it wouldn't just happen. And more and more the idea of having a kid alternately terrifies and annoys me (have you SEEN the cost of a family healthcare plan? clothes? furniture? daycare?). But every time it comes up I'm hit with pangs of jealousy, bitterness and a little bit of "what if?" Don't get me wrong - I've done enough soul searching to know that I am already a complete person who doesn't need a baby to feel whole. (not that I'm saying any of you "need" a baby - I'm just rather clumsily saying don't worry about me)
But this post is only partly about me. It's a cautionary heads-up to those of you who fall into the "expecting" category. I love you all. And I already love your babies. Even when I can't say it out loud, know that I'm overwhelmingly happy for you. I can't wait to see the 8,000 pictures of every milestone of your precious angel's early years. But I'm going to let you in on a secret that your other friends might not tell you:
The miracle of childbirth? It's gross. It's awe-inspiring to the people involved (even just as a spectator), but to the people outside that room, it's bloody and there's a lot of ick involved. And most of your co-workers, your college drinking buddies, and maybe even your own family members just don't want to see what you might be tempted to share on Facebook.
So here's my sincere request: if you are at all tempted to post pictures of the following:
- the placenta (or any mention that you're planning on doing anything with it besides letting the hospital dispose of it)
- anything on mommy that would usually be covered by a bikini
- naked baby pictures that include genitalia
- poop
10 October, 2011
More Culinary Adventures
We're in a bit of a money crunch right now. Between paying off my college debt (you know, so I can accrue new college debt), my new car, and last month's road trip, our savings are way lower than I'm comfortable with and my credit card debt is way higher. All in all, not an ideal situation.
So we're eating out a lot less.
And I've gotten really sick of the same chicken breast/pork chop with brown rice and veggies. Blahhhh...
I'm also watching (but not completely avoiding) sodium, which rules out most easy foods that come frozen, boxed, or bagged. I should also be avoiding red meat and butter, but I've slipped off that wagon.
And since we're attempting to be thrifty, I've started reading the weekly sale flyers from Publix. I'm looking for whatever random cut of meat is on sale, and then searching the Food Network website for a recipe to go along with it.
Inspired by a restaurant at Downtown Disney, I first tired my hand at pork ragu. The recipe was moderately successful, considering I substituted the dutch oven for a crock pot. The veggies, even after 6 hours of cooking, still weren't soft enough to dissolve in the sauce the way I wanted. I loved starting a recipe at 10 am and then having it for dinner that night, and for a while we were contemplating buying a new crock pot. We haven't though, so this recipe is bookmarked to return to another time.
Short ribs were next. Scott expected to be disappointed by this recipe, since it's from the lady who only uses 5 ingredients. No celery/carrots/onion? Are you mad? I guess the vegetable stock makes a huge impact. The depth of flavor was impressive, the meat actually fell right off the bones (I thought it was just an expression!), and the second time I made it we used the leftover braising liquid for shepherd's pie. The last time the meat was on sale, I actually made a mid-week trip back to the store to get more to freeze.
This week I had a craving for chicken & dumplings. I grew up on Sweet Sue, and occasionally get them from Cracker Barrel. This recipe was nothing like either of those. Unlike the chicken and thick noodles in slime from the can (which, by the way, I still super-puffy-heart love), this was a creamy chicken stew with veggies. The dumplings looked like giant puffy matzoh balls, but were ridiculously airy, tasted like the chicken stock they were poached in, and melted in your mouth. Of course, with both buttermilk and heavy cream, this recipe can't go in heavy rotation!
Here are some things I've learned from my recent culinary exploration:
So we're eating out a lot less.
And I've gotten really sick of the same chicken breast/pork chop with brown rice and veggies. Blahhhh...
I'm also watching (but not completely avoiding) sodium, which rules out most easy foods that come frozen, boxed, or bagged. I should also be avoiding red meat and butter, but I've slipped off that wagon.
And since we're attempting to be thrifty, I've started reading the weekly sale flyers from Publix. I'm looking for whatever random cut of meat is on sale, and then searching the Food Network website for a recipe to go along with it.
Inspired by a restaurant at Downtown Disney, I first tired my hand at pork ragu. The recipe was moderately successful, considering I substituted the dutch oven for a crock pot. The veggies, even after 6 hours of cooking, still weren't soft enough to dissolve in the sauce the way I wanted. I loved starting a recipe at 10 am and then having it for dinner that night, and for a while we were contemplating buying a new crock pot. We haven't though, so this recipe is bookmarked to return to another time.
Short ribs were next. Scott expected to be disappointed by this recipe, since it's from the lady who only uses 5 ingredients. No celery/carrots/onion? Are you mad? I guess the vegetable stock makes a huge impact. The depth of flavor was impressive, the meat actually fell right off the bones (I thought it was just an expression!), and the second time I made it we used the leftover braising liquid for shepherd's pie. The last time the meat was on sale, I actually made a mid-week trip back to the store to get more to freeze.
This week I had a craving for chicken & dumplings. I grew up on Sweet Sue, and occasionally get them from Cracker Barrel. This recipe was nothing like either of those. Unlike the chicken and thick noodles in slime from the can (which, by the way, I still super-puffy-heart love), this was a creamy chicken stew with veggies. The dumplings looked like giant puffy matzoh balls, but were ridiculously airy, tasted like the chicken stock they were poached in, and melted in your mouth. Of course, with both buttermilk and heavy cream, this recipe can't go in heavy rotation!
Here are some things I've learned from my recent culinary exploration:
- The dutch oven is my favorite cooking vessel...but probably wouldn't be if I was the one who had to hand-wash it every time.
- A 3.5 lb. chicken will not completely submerge in said vessel for poaching unless chopped up.
- I am emotionally strong enough to butcher a raw whole chicken (not neatly, but well enough)
- You can really make chicken stock from scratch
- I make awesome chicken stock!
- You could simmer a shoe in red wine and vegetable stock and it'll be delicious and tender
- I'm getting better at dicing vegetables
- If the house smells delicious when he comes home, Scott might not notice that I haven't showered yet
- I really enjoy cooking, but only when I haven't worked 8 hours first
04 September, 2011
Tasty, Tasty Murder
Preface:You may have seen this t-shirt or at least heard the comment before. It's a concept Scott and I laugh about a lot. Watch enough food/travel shows, and you're going to see all sorts of animals - from cows to fish - killed and cooked. Everyone knows that meat used to breathe and think.
I, of course, am more of a supermarket murderer. By the time I get my food, it's long-dead. I never saw its face, never watched it breathe, and certainly didn't help kill it. Heck, I've never even caught a fish that didn't get released back into the water!
The Story:
Scott and I were told a perishable food-related thank you gift was to be delivered to us yesterday morning. We were expecting an edible arrangement. After all, the thank-you was for something we genuinely didn't expect to be thanked for! And so, imagine my surprise when the doorbell rang and I opened the door to find a very large box under the welcome mat. (about that: the UPS driver often "hides" our packages under our doormat. it's always obvious - even a small package makes the mat look like a cat is hiding under it - but yesterday's was just-plain comical. the box was at least a foot tall, and about the same other dimensions as the mat that was covering it!) The box had a big logo on the side - LobsterGram!
No way!
Yes, way!
So I hauled the box into the house and put it up on the dining room table, grabbed Scott's pocket knife and pulled out the shipping manifest. Now having some clue about the contents, I though I should probably open the box. So I did. And inside was a giant styrofoam cooler. I opened that lid, pulled off a layer of bubble wrap, and saw a wax paper sort of thing. I picked up the corner, enough to see a rubber-banded claw that was definitely not bright red. I put everything back in, closed the cooler, backed away slowly, and took the shipping paper upstairs to Scott (who had been in the shower).
He came back downstairs with me and agreed that yes, there were two lobsters in the box. That were moving. In our house!
In retrospect, I think we both probably made the face new parents make the first time their precious miracle has an explosive poo. You know you should DO something, and quickly, but all you can really do is stand there frozen and staring. It was really a "umm...what do we do now" moment. Scott then covered the lobsters back up and closed the cooler. I should mention that neither of us really has a humanitarian hang-up about lobster. Like all sorts of other creatures of the sea, they also fall into the "tasty, tasty murder" category. But I think maybe because I had fish tanks growing up, the sight of a lobster in a tank at the grocery store is really no different to me than the sight of fish waiting to come home with you and live in your house.
We of course knew right away that we weren't going to look a gift-lobster in the mouth, and started reading their enclosed cooking manual (how's that for a "To Serve Man" type fate?). The paper that was on top of the cooler suggested that we pose our lobsters for fun pictures before cooking them. I thought that was pretty mean-spirited, though did have a momentary flash of "Mary and Richard playing with lobsters?" that quickly passed. Scott also read in the manual that sometimes the lobster tails will splash boiling water when you put them in the pot. Yikes! So we followed the sage advice of Alton Brown and put them in the freezer to stupefy them while the water came to a boil.
When the time came, I held the pot lid, Scott deposited them into the water, and I put the lid back on. And the worst was officially behind us. I guess the freezer trick really worked, because this scene from "Julie & Julia" certainly didn't happen to us...
(coincidentally enough, I just saw this movie for the first time this morning. oh how I laughed!)
Nine minutes after the water came back to a boil, they were cooked. Scott did the ripping and rinsing, and I got the clarified butter, a few glasses of chardonnay, and all the appropriate tools together at the table. While Scott was still working on cleaning his lobster, I grabbed one of the legs off my plate and sucked the meat out of it. And in that moment, I had a food-piphany. Lobster is so good that it gives you lobster-prep amnesia!
The parts of the meal where we were able to extract actual big chunks of lobster meat from the shells were even more amazing. I might have shattered-claw-shell shrapnel buried in my face (came close to getting my safety classes out of my work bag...for real), but that's half the fun of eating crustaceans. I barely touched the butter. The meat was just so perfect without it!
I get it now - why foodies are so willing to kill and eat lobsters in their own homes. I don't think I'm at the point emotionally where I could go to the store and pick one out of a tank... but I could probably give someone else the money to go buy one for me!
Epilogue:
We had sort of a weird schedule yesterday, and actually ate the lobsters for lunch. Tonight, we're having the rest of the stuff that came in the cooler with the lobsters. It's the gift that keeps on giving! And now I can add lobster to the list of things I can cook...with a little (ok, a lot of) help from my hubby!
Between Vacations
I spent August 24-27 in a whirlwind of family fun. Of course, I'm a terrible blogger and didn't bother to record anything of note at the time. Now on the eve of another "memory maker," I'm going to throw up a random list of things I want to remember about how wonderful it was to be with everyone again.
August 24 - evening - dinner at Downtown Disney with Rose, Gary, Mark, Dawn, and Scott. Good food and wine, followed by a trip to Goodings to pick up ponchos for the tourists!
August 25 - Magic Kingdom with a ton of people!
Our original plan was to meet up with Dawn and Naomi and their respective spouses and children, sign them in, and go off with just Dawn and Mark. Then 7 others showed up, including Jenn and her family, so we stuck with the crew long enough to ride Pirates (not a good idea with a tiny baby...she wailed through the whole thing, and everyone on the boat was throwing me the "bad mommy" look because I was holding her!), Hall of Presidents, and Haunted Mansion. By the way, the new and improved Hitchhiking Ghosts at the end of Haunted Mansion blew my freaking mind! I want to go back again and again and again! After that, we bailed on the family fun and headed home... with a Dole Whip pit stop. Mmm...magical Magic Kingdom treat...
The evening was spent in celebration of Aunt Mary and Uncle Richard's 50th anniversary. In addition to the planned activities - dinner, musical performances by some grand kids, and a DVD of 1950's home movies that made me laugh and cry - we brought a little entertainment of our own.
I bought these 2 11x17 picture frames on clearance a few months ago, for the purpose of using them as silly photo props. I brought them with me and stashed them in a corner until I saw a photo op. As soon as the frames came out, they were like catnip for the kids, even the camera-shy ones. People were squeezing as many faces as they could, going 3D and popping out of the frames, and generally laughing and having a good time. I got major brownie points for bringing them along!
I was also a (small) part of the night's most fun surprise: "Flat Mary" and "Flat Richard" - customized masks of their faces, perfect for taking even more ridiculous pictures!
After the evening's fun and frolic, we asked everyone to take a pair of masks home with them, and to take pictures where they live. Our plan is to create a travel diary of The Adventures of Richard and Mary. I hope people remember to take pictures!
August 27 - Another day of Park Hopping, this time with Rose and Gary, Laura and Richard, Alicia, Alex, and Megumi. We did almost all the "E-Ticket" rides at the Studios and at Magic Kingdom, got caught in a monsoon, and had lunch at Prime Time Cafe. Some of the highlights for me:
Laura and Richard's 10th Anniversary Hoop-La! We got them bride and groom mouse ears and anniversary buttons. Everywhere we went, people congratulated them. They got up on stage for the Indiana Jones show, got shout-outs from parade performers, and generally got a lot more attention than they were probably comfortable with. It was awesome!
The new Star Tours was so much better than I expected it to be! There were 9 of us, which apparently qualified us for our own private ride. I was the "rebel spy," (you'll understand when you ride it) and Alex was yelling back at the screen that he wanted to turn me in. Our tour saw Chewbacca, Yoda, and JarJar Binks. The 3D is great, and the simulator motion matches the image on the screen pretty seamlessly.
Riding Big Thunder Mountain with Alicia and literally laughing until I started to sob. Because the lap bar was set to my legs and she's so much skinnier than I am, she got tossed around a lot. The first dip, I thought she might fall out. From then on, I just couldn't stop laughing. By the time we pulled into the station, I had tears streaming down my face. When I recounted the story to Scott, people were looking at me to see who the sobbing freak was!
Laughing to tears again on Space Mountain. I was in the front of our rocket, and every time we went through a jarring turn on sharp drop Alex would yell "woah, Space," as though he was trying to get a horse to stop. It just got funnier and funnier. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I had so much fun on Space Mountain!
Having great seats for both the Electric Light Parade and Wishes. Thanks to this, I was able to learn about what I'm now calling the "shaky shaky" feature on my camera and get some killer pictures of both without a flash.
And of course, we brought Flat Mary & Rich along for some killer photos "where Magic lives," but I won't be previewing those quite yet.
Driving home after a marathon day in the parks, with sore wet feet and total exhaustion setting in, it was hard for me to not get emotional. I miss them all already - not just the ones I had a chance to "play" with, but the ones I only saw at the anniversary party. I met some new extended family members, made a baby cry in terror, and took a zillion pictures (of which, about 50 came out). We had a fabulous time - even better than we were anticipating - and look forward to seeing everyone again.
August 24 - evening - dinner at Downtown Disney with Rose, Gary, Mark, Dawn, and Scott. Good food and wine, followed by a trip to Goodings to pick up ponchos for the tourists!
August 25 - Magic Kingdom with a ton of people! Our original plan was to meet up with Dawn and Naomi and their respective spouses and children, sign them in, and go off with just Dawn and Mark. Then 7 others showed up, including Jenn and her family, so we stuck with the crew long enough to ride Pirates (not a good idea with a tiny baby...she wailed through the whole thing, and everyone on the boat was throwing me the "bad mommy" look because I was holding her!), Hall of Presidents, and Haunted Mansion. By the way, the new and improved Hitchhiking Ghosts at the end of Haunted Mansion blew my freaking mind! I want to go back again and again and again! After that, we bailed on the family fun and headed home... with a Dole Whip pit stop. Mmm...magical Magic Kingdom treat...
August 26 - Happy Birthday Scott!
The day started with a little birthday brunch for my halfway-to-70-year-old. Actually, it started as a little brunch and ended up being me feeding 11 people and trying to keep the stress away from Scott. Note: I've never even really participated in Thanksgiving dinner (besides the pies). I was so proud of myself - sticky buns, a bread casserole (with pancetta...that I fried...with splattering oil), individual chicken pot pies... and the only thing we didn't do from scratch was mashed sweet potatoes from our local favorite BBQ place.
Then we napped. I needed it!
The evening was spent in celebration of Aunt Mary and Uncle Richard's 50th anniversary. In addition to the planned activities - dinner, musical performances by some grand kids, and a DVD of 1950's home movies that made me laugh and cry - we brought a little entertainment of our own.I bought these 2 11x17 picture frames on clearance a few months ago, for the purpose of using them as silly photo props. I brought them with me and stashed them in a corner until I saw a photo op. As soon as the frames came out, they were like catnip for the kids, even the camera-shy ones. People were squeezing as many faces as they could, going 3D and popping out of the frames, and generally laughing and having a good time. I got major brownie points for bringing them along!
 |
| Alicia as Richard, and Richard as Mary |
After the evening's fun and frolic, we asked everyone to take a pair of masks home with them, and to take pictures where they live. Our plan is to create a travel diary of The Adventures of Richard and Mary. I hope people remember to take pictures!
August 27 - Another day of Park Hopping, this time with Rose and Gary, Laura and Richard, Alicia, Alex, and Megumi. We did almost all the "E-Ticket" rides at the Studios and at Magic Kingdom, got caught in a monsoon, and had lunch at Prime Time Cafe. Some of the highlights for me:
Laura and Richard's 10th Anniversary Hoop-La! We got them bride and groom mouse ears and anniversary buttons. Everywhere we went, people congratulated them. They got up on stage for the Indiana Jones show, got shout-outs from parade performers, and generally got a lot more attention than they were probably comfortable with. It was awesome!The new Star Tours was so much better than I expected it to be! There were 9 of us, which apparently qualified us for our own private ride. I was the "rebel spy," (you'll understand when you ride it) and Alex was yelling back at the screen that he wanted to turn me in. Our tour saw Chewbacca, Yoda, and JarJar Binks. The 3D is great, and the simulator motion matches the image on the screen pretty seamlessly.
Riding Big Thunder Mountain with Alicia and literally laughing until I started to sob. Because the lap bar was set to my legs and she's so much skinnier than I am, she got tossed around a lot. The first dip, I thought she might fall out. From then on, I just couldn't stop laughing. By the time we pulled into the station, I had tears streaming down my face. When I recounted the story to Scott, people were looking at me to see who the sobbing freak was!
Laughing to tears again on Space Mountain. I was in the front of our rocket, and every time we went through a jarring turn on sharp drop Alex would yell "woah, Space," as though he was trying to get a horse to stop. It just got funnier and funnier. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I had so much fun on Space Mountain!
Having great seats for both the Electric Light Parade and Wishes. Thanks to this, I was able to learn about what I'm now calling the "shaky shaky" feature on my camera and get some killer pictures of both without a flash.And of course, we brought Flat Mary & Rich along for some killer photos "where Magic lives," but I won't be previewing those quite yet.
Driving home after a marathon day in the parks, with sore wet feet and total exhaustion setting in, it was hard for me to not get emotional. I miss them all already - not just the ones I had a chance to "play" with, but the ones I only saw at the anniversary party. I met some new extended family members, made a baby cry in terror, and took a zillion pictures (of which, about 50 came out). We had a fabulous time - even better than we were anticipating - and look forward to seeing everyone again.
23 August, 2011
Murderer
I killed a bird this morning on my way to work. Scott and I talked about filming a dramatization, but we're probably going to be too busy for the next few days so you'll just have to rely on your imagination.
There I am driving down the road when a little bird swoops down from the other side of the road and hits the front of my car with an echoing thud that actually resonated a bit like a gong. I did what I always do in this situation (this is the 3rd bird, and 4th animal, I've hit in my driving career): I immediately craned my neck to get a good look in my rearview mirror to see the damage.
No bird behind me. Did it bounce off onto the shoulder? But before I even had a chance to consider that perhaps I had a new hood ornament, the bird must have dislodged from my bumper. While I was still focused on the view behind the car, the bird rolled up the hood and thud thud thud up and over my windshield.
I actually yelled "oh my GOD!" and in retrospect am shocked I didn't crash the car. I was stunned and freaked the heck out. The resulting adrenaline dump got me to work, but the mental crash was awful. I hope that never happens to me (or another bird) again... but if they don't stop swooping in front of me I guess we don't have much of a choice!
There I am driving down the road when a little bird swoops down from the other side of the road and hits the front of my car with an echoing thud that actually resonated a bit like a gong. I did what I always do in this situation (this is the 3rd bird, and 4th animal, I've hit in my driving career): I immediately craned my neck to get a good look in my rearview mirror to see the damage.
No bird behind me. Did it bounce off onto the shoulder? But before I even had a chance to consider that perhaps I had a new hood ornament, the bird must have dislodged from my bumper. While I was still focused on the view behind the car, the bird rolled up the hood and thud thud thud up and over my windshield.
I actually yelled "oh my GOD!" and in retrospect am shocked I didn't crash the car. I was stunned and freaked the heck out. The resulting adrenaline dump got me to work, but the mental crash was awful. I hope that never happens to me (or another bird) again... but if they don't stop swooping in front of me I guess we don't have much of a choice!
12 August, 2011
The Never-Ending Tooth Problem
I've got what can best be described as a "problem tooth." The first problem with this tooth was back in January 2007. That's when my dentist saw a small cavity. According to this blog post from March of that year, the small cavity wasn't filled in time (through no fault of my own) and needed a root canal, which took 2 appointments to complete and then got infected. Ironically, at that time I was referring to this as the never ending cavity. If only I had known...
Right after the crown was put on, I was convinced there was a problem. I kept cutting my tongue on a sharp spot on the inside, but the dentist poked, x-rayed, and otherwise inspected and said there was no problem with the crown.
Fast-forward to August of 2010. The crown on the problem tooth had cracked and was starting to crumble away. I returned to the dentist, and he decided to have a new lab-made crown made. He put a temporary seal on top of the tooth, and sent me on my way. I was supposed to return the following Monday to have the new crown put on, and took the day off to accomplish this. They called me Monday morning to cancel because the lab hadn't returned the new crown. The woman who called me was rude, didn't apologize, and didn't call back to reschedule once the crown came in. When I e-mailed and brought the terrible customer service to the attention of the dentist, he e-mailed me back and basically said "don't come back."
So I didn't.
And unfortunately I waited until early this year to finally make an appointment with another dentist. And then it took until April for the new crown to be made and cemented into place. It hurt the day he put it in. When the assistant dry-fitted the crown, it felt like it was too big. The dentist just jammed it in and said it was fine. It felt like the crown had little barbs on the bottom that were digging into my gums.
It was sensitive, but I sort of shrugged and figured it was all part of the healing process. Then I started to notice that occasionally when I bit down on that side that there was some sort of "old man denture breath" liquid squeezing out. After the first two wisdom teeth were removed (on the opposite side of my mouth), that tooth got super sensitive. My dentist took a look and said "crown looks good," but perhaps there was a secondary infection under the tooth that would require an endodontist to re-drill the tooth. When he suggested we wait a few weeks, I was happy to oblige.
When I had the other two wisdom teeth removed, I mentioned that the tooth was no better. He said maybe it's just crowded in my (small) mouth and that removing the wisdom teeth would help. It didn't. So finally I got a referral to an endodontist.
Two weeks ago I went to the endo, who took a look at the x-ray and said the root canal was beautiful and that the problem was with the crown. After talking to me, and sensing my displeasure at the idea of being sent back to my dentist, he recommended a course of treatment that would rely solely on a periodontist. (at this point I encourage you to look into the term "tooth lengthening" or "crown lengthening," but not to click on wikipedia) I got a call from the endo's office on my way home, and she said that my regular dentist said he could do that procedure in office. Yeah. Right.
I got a referral to the periodontist for this morning, and went for a combo consultation & treatment appointment. Imagine my lack of surprise when he removed my crown and asked, "was that temporarily cemented, or was it supposed to be permanent?" I laughed out loud. Well, I guess that explains the smell!
So after today's procedure (which really wasn't bad at all), my crown was temporarily cemented back into place. I go back in 10 days for a post-op appointment (oh - haha - I'm not allowed to brush or floss that tooth until then. thanks for the special mouthwash, doc!), and the crown isn't going to be permanently cemented back into place for "a few months."
Four years, four dentists, and well over $1,000 out-of-pocket later, I am ready to be done with this process. My jaw is still numb, but I have a good feeling that perhaps this time will be the beginning of the end of this saga. (and yes, Scott just brought me a chair to knock on) I'm hoping to be able to chew on both sides of my mouth again in a few weeks. For now, nothing sharp like chips or popcorn (or cereal, I guess), and a few days without a straw or hot drinks or spicy food. Gee...it's like having another wisdom tooth removed!
Right after the crown was put on, I was convinced there was a problem. I kept cutting my tongue on a sharp spot on the inside, but the dentist poked, x-rayed, and otherwise inspected and said there was no problem with the crown.
Fast-forward to August of 2010. The crown on the problem tooth had cracked and was starting to crumble away. I returned to the dentist, and he decided to have a new lab-made crown made. He put a temporary seal on top of the tooth, and sent me on my way. I was supposed to return the following Monday to have the new crown put on, and took the day off to accomplish this. They called me Monday morning to cancel because the lab hadn't returned the new crown. The woman who called me was rude, didn't apologize, and didn't call back to reschedule once the crown came in. When I e-mailed and brought the terrible customer service to the attention of the dentist, he e-mailed me back and basically said "don't come back."
So I didn't.
And unfortunately I waited until early this year to finally make an appointment with another dentist. And then it took until April for the new crown to be made and cemented into place. It hurt the day he put it in. When the assistant dry-fitted the crown, it felt like it was too big. The dentist just jammed it in and said it was fine. It felt like the crown had little barbs on the bottom that were digging into my gums.
It was sensitive, but I sort of shrugged and figured it was all part of the healing process. Then I started to notice that occasionally when I bit down on that side that there was some sort of "old man denture breath" liquid squeezing out. After the first two wisdom teeth were removed (on the opposite side of my mouth), that tooth got super sensitive. My dentist took a look and said "crown looks good," but perhaps there was a secondary infection under the tooth that would require an endodontist to re-drill the tooth. When he suggested we wait a few weeks, I was happy to oblige.
When I had the other two wisdom teeth removed, I mentioned that the tooth was no better. He said maybe it's just crowded in my (small) mouth and that removing the wisdom teeth would help. It didn't. So finally I got a referral to an endodontist.
Two weeks ago I went to the endo, who took a look at the x-ray and said the root canal was beautiful and that the problem was with the crown. After talking to me, and sensing my displeasure at the idea of being sent back to my dentist, he recommended a course of treatment that would rely solely on a periodontist. (at this point I encourage you to look into the term "tooth lengthening" or "crown lengthening," but not to click on wikipedia) I got a call from the endo's office on my way home, and she said that my regular dentist said he could do that procedure in office. Yeah. Right.
I got a referral to the periodontist for this morning, and went for a combo consultation & treatment appointment. Imagine my lack of surprise when he removed my crown and asked, "was that temporarily cemented, or was it supposed to be permanent?" I laughed out loud. Well, I guess that explains the smell!
So after today's procedure (which really wasn't bad at all), my crown was temporarily cemented back into place. I go back in 10 days for a post-op appointment (oh - haha - I'm not allowed to brush or floss that tooth until then. thanks for the special mouthwash, doc!), and the crown isn't going to be permanently cemented back into place for "a few months."
Four years, four dentists, and well over $1,000 out-of-pocket later, I am ready to be done with this process. My jaw is still numb, but I have a good feeling that perhaps this time will be the beginning of the end of this saga. (and yes, Scott just brought me a chair to knock on) I'm hoping to be able to chew on both sides of my mouth again in a few weeks. For now, nothing sharp like chips or popcorn (or cereal, I guess), and a few days without a straw or hot drinks or spicy food. Gee...it's like having another wisdom tooth removed!
01 August, 2011
Putting the "Trip" in Road Trip
Scott and I have an event to attend in New Jersey this fall. No matter how we sliced it, plane tickets were going to end up costing us more that I felt we could spend (and that was before I got my transcript out of hock). So we decided to take a little more time off from work and make the drive. Even if gas was $4/gallon by then, we'd still be spending less than the airfare and rental car would cost. But really, anyone who has ever driven up I-95 knows how miserable the DC to Philly leg is. No matter what, the traffic is terrible and the drivers are hostile. So today I had a crazy idea that might not be so crazy after all. Working with the following parameters: Work on Monday, event on Saturday morning, home on Tuesday here's what I'm thinking:
Monday afternoon: leave immediately after work and get at least an hour into Georgia before finding a place to spend the night
Tuesday: arrive in Atlanta by noon at the latest, spend 4-5 hours at Scott's Happy Place (the Georgia Aquarium), and then spend 3-4 hours headed North before finding a bed.
Wednesday: driving day! 9-10 hours to reach State College and spend the night some place walking distance from the PSU campus
Thursday: spend a couple of hours exploring Penn State and showing Scott the interesting touristy places and things. And getting ice cream. Leave State College and drive 4 hours to Philly, hopefully early enough to see my Grandpop.
Friday: something touristy in Philly before heading to the Jersey Shore.
Saturday morning: The Event. We'll be on the road southbound by 4 pm, and hope to make it south of DC before crashing for the night.
Sunday: drive straight down I-95 to Hilton Head, SC in time to go to dinner at Red Fish (no lie, we went there in 2008 and Scott is still talking about this place!) and crash at the Disney resort there.
Monday: drive home and get ready to go back to work on Tuesday.
I'm not deluding myself - it's A LOT of driving. Google tells me the route above is just over 2,500 miles, but the Orlando-Philly trip would be 2,000 miles round-trip. And this way the whole trip feels like a vacation instead of 2 long days in the car on I-95 with a few relaxing days in between. It also gives us the chance to revisit the "best of"our other out-of-state trips and hit some places Scott has never been.
Of course, we still have a fair amount of time between now and then. Lots could change. Heck, this vacation is on version 4.2 already! Still, these plans are really exciting to both of us start to finish, which definitely makes the extra miles worth it.
Anyone want to play devil's advocate?
Tuesday: arrive in Atlanta by noon at the latest, spend 4-5 hours at Scott's Happy Place (the Georgia Aquarium), and then spend 3-4 hours headed North before finding a bed.
Wednesday: driving day! 9-10 hours to reach State College and spend the night some place walking distance from the PSU campus
Thursday: spend a couple of hours exploring Penn State and showing Scott the interesting touristy places and things. And getting ice cream. Leave State College and drive 4 hours to Philly, hopefully early enough to see my Grandpop.
Friday: something touristy in Philly before heading to the Jersey Shore.
Saturday morning: The Event. We'll be on the road southbound by 4 pm, and hope to make it south of DC before crashing for the night.
Sunday: drive straight down I-95 to Hilton Head, SC in time to go to dinner at Red Fish (no lie, we went there in 2008 and Scott is still talking about this place!) and crash at the Disney resort there.
Monday: drive home and get ready to go back to work on Tuesday.
I'm not deluding myself - it's A LOT of driving. Google tells me the route above is just over 2,500 miles, but the Orlando-Philly trip would be 2,000 miles round-trip. And this way the whole trip feels like a vacation instead of 2 long days in the car on I-95 with a few relaxing days in between. It also gives us the chance to revisit the "best of"our other out-of-state trips and hit some places Scott has never been.
Of course, we still have a fair amount of time between now and then. Lots could change. Heck, this vacation is on version 4.2 already! Still, these plans are really exciting to both of us start to finish, which definitely makes the extra miles worth it.
Anyone want to play devil's advocate?
27 July, 2011
Laughing at the Past
Guess what I got today! OK, don't really guess. I got an official copy of my transcript. The news contained, while not great, was actually better than I'd expected. My last two semesters didn't count at all (Fall because I got a "trauma drop" of all my classes because of the bus accident...and I think I would've failed them all anyway, and Spring because my Dad never paid the tuition and I was never officially enrolled in any classes). Financially that sucked, but it's a lucky break because I don't have two straight semesters of F's on there. Even with that "good" news, I still left with a pretty dismal 2.2 GPA, and only 82 credits completed.
But the transcript provided some good laughs for Scott and me this afternoon. I mean, I don't remember taking Arthurian Legend (D) or Astronomy (B-), but apparently I did. I vaguely remember Genetics, Ecology and Evolution (B), which was basically a re-hash of AP Bio. Scott was dismayed to learn that I got a D in Criminology, but I did get a B+ in Intro to American Criminal Justice 2 years earlier (which I also don't remember). Honors Freshman Comp? B+ Three semesters of Italian? C, C+, C+. My proudest semester was the last one I passed: Summer of '99, when I got a B+ and an A in two 400-level communications classes and an A- in nutrition.
Mostly, looking at the transcript just makes me sad. My priorities were never what they should have been, and that I passed any classes at all after my Freshman year shows how damn smart I was, because I almost never went. And having taken 11 years to dig out of the financial catastrophuck I left behind, I wish that I could go back and smack some sense into my 18-year-old self and also go back and (while not blaming them) tell my parents to force me to show them my grades at the end of the semester.
But that's enough of looking backwards. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll be able to start taking classes again in January, though thinking about it for more than two minutes at a time makes me nauseous. I'm hoping that the re-applying process is quick and painless so that I can actually make plans (and find out how much more I have to go) instead of this purgatory I'm in now.
But the transcript provided some good laughs for Scott and me this afternoon. I mean, I don't remember taking Arthurian Legend (D) or Astronomy (B-), but apparently I did. I vaguely remember Genetics, Ecology and Evolution (B), which was basically a re-hash of AP Bio. Scott was dismayed to learn that I got a D in Criminology, but I did get a B+ in Intro to American Criminal Justice 2 years earlier (which I also don't remember). Honors Freshman Comp? B+ Three semesters of Italian? C, C+, C+. My proudest semester was the last one I passed: Summer of '99, when I got a B+ and an A in two 400-level communications classes and an A- in nutrition.
Mostly, looking at the transcript just makes me sad. My priorities were never what they should have been, and that I passed any classes at all after my Freshman year shows how damn smart I was, because I almost never went. And having taken 11 years to dig out of the financial catastrophuck I left behind, I wish that I could go back and smack some sense into my 18-year-old self and also go back and (while not blaming them) tell my parents to force me to show them my grades at the end of the semester.
But that's enough of looking backwards. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll be able to start taking classes again in January, though thinking about it for more than two minutes at a time makes me nauseous. I'm hoping that the re-applying process is quick and painless so that I can actually make plans (and find out how much more I have to go) instead of this purgatory I'm in now.
26 July, 2011
Definitely Not Free, but Clear
So...I spent $2,520 today and am having a bit of buyer's remorse. Perhaps because I don't have anything to show for it. Literally nothing, not even a receipt!
Actually, more than buyer's remorse, I have a little bit of pride and a lot of cautious optimism. Pride, because I have officially paid off every last cent of college debt (two years after I found out about the last 252,000 cents I owed) (and not counting the personal loan that I got two years ago, which still has almost three years left on it). Cautious optimism because I no longer have any financial holds on my transcript, which means I'm free to continue my education. There is a hold on there, but I just needed a note from the DoE that said my Perkins loans were paid off. They said they'd fax it over to Penn State in two business days.
Would you like to hear the ironic part?
After a few hours of Google searching (that's how one picks a school nowadays, right?), the most intriguing degree program I found is from Penn Freaking State's online campus! At least most of my credits would transfer... theoretically... if I were to be accepted... and get some more lovely student loans that I promise not to default on as long as I live, so help me God. Anyway, I'm still looking, and I'm not going to talk more about the degree or anything until I have a plan in place. You know, a plan that will cost more money and take more time and brainpower than I've put in to anything in about... umm... ever.
But, you know, cautious optimism.
*vomit*
Actually, more than buyer's remorse, I have a little bit of pride and a lot of cautious optimism. Pride, because I have officially paid off every last cent of college debt (two years after I found out about the last 252,000 cents I owed) (and not counting the personal loan that I got two years ago, which still has almost three years left on it). Cautious optimism because I no longer have any financial holds on my transcript, which means I'm free to continue my education. There is a hold on there, but I just needed a note from the DoE that said my Perkins loans were paid off. They said they'd fax it over to Penn State in two business days.
Would you like to hear the ironic part?
After a few hours of Google searching (that's how one picks a school nowadays, right?), the most intriguing degree program I found is from Penn Freaking State's online campus! At least most of my credits would transfer... theoretically... if I were to be accepted... and get some more lovely student loans that I promise not to default on as long as I live, so help me God. Anyway, I'm still looking, and I'm not going to talk more about the degree or anything until I have a plan in place. You know, a plan that will cost more money and take more time and brainpower than I've put in to anything in about... umm... ever.
But, you know, cautious optimism.
*vomit*
14 July, 2011
Slippery When Wet (with blood)
The dentist had trouble removing my last wisdom tooth. The top-left one pretty much popped right out (along with the filling on the tooth in front of it. see you again Monday morning, Doc!), but the bottom-left one was holding on for dear life. This was the least "erupted" of all of them, and the one I was dreading the most, so I wasn't entirely surprised.
I was, however, surprised when he stuck the large fancy dental pliers in my mouth one more time and the tooth popped out like a watermelon seed at a spittin' contest (too... much... time... in... Florida!). I laughed, a hearty single "HA!" at the sight of the dentist recoiling in horror and the click click as it bounced on the floor. It also felt it hit my hair on the way down, and checked for a bloody toothprint when I got home, but there was none.
Anyway, I'm home now, most of the numbness having worn off. I still hate the taste of blood (remedy: lots of water drinking - but not swishing), and am still grossed out by the same things that grossed me out last time. Luckily for me, the tooth I'm having the most trouble with is also on the left side, so I'm thinking I'll be on solid food on the right side faster than I was last time.
For now, bring on the yogurt and pudding! (whilst I enjoy the smell of Scott's lunch)
I was, however, surprised when he stuck the large fancy dental pliers in my mouth one more time and the tooth popped out like a watermelon seed at a spittin' contest (too... much... time... in... Florida!). I laughed, a hearty single "HA!" at the sight of the dentist recoiling in horror and the click click as it bounced on the floor. It also felt it hit my hair on the way down, and checked for a bloody toothprint when I got home, but there was none.
Anyway, I'm home now, most of the numbness having worn off. I still hate the taste of blood (remedy: lots of water drinking - but not swishing), and am still grossed out by the same things that grossed me out last time. Luckily for me, the tooth I'm having the most trouble with is also on the left side, so I'm thinking I'll be on solid food on the right side faster than I was last time.
For now, bring on the yogurt and pudding! (whilst I enjoy the smell of Scott's lunch)
12 July, 2011
One of Those Days
The following happened between 7:00 and 8:00 this morning:
* I walked out of the house, locking the door behind me, only to discover the my keys (house and car) were still inside. This, ladies and gentlemen, is why we have a key stashed in the garage.
* I narrowly avoided being hit head-on by a speeding dirt truck who was in my lane "sharing the road" with a bicyclist.
* I narrowly avoided being side-swiped by a convertible BMW merging onto my road off of the local toll road. I recognized this car because he zoomed past me a few days ago on my way in. Apparently road rules don't apply to BMW convertibles. I know where he works...considered leaving a note, but couldn't come up with wording that wouldn't get me fired.
The following happened between 8:00 and 8:30 this morning:
* I found out that the trainer I had scheduled for a class with 6 learners called in, and that I would need to cancel the class.
* The new guy who started yesterday had parked himself in my office waiting for something to do. His stuff was on my desk when I got in, and he literally hovered over my shoulder while I got logged in. He's a nice guy. I blame this morning's little incident on the fact that he is brand new to the company and his manager likes to pawn off work on other people. "Just see Jamie in the morning - she'll get you set up" doesn't fly when his regulatory training is done. OJT is out of my jurisdiction.
While none of these individually were such a big deal, my defenses were down *cough*PMS*cough* and everything together was more than I wanted to handle.
I did have some bright spots, including well-meaning co-workers bringing me some pretzel m&m's, a lunch to celebrate something awesome that happened yesterday (which gave me indigestion...sigh...), and a new electric stapler by the copy machine that has a red light on the front (which I have named K.I.T.T.).
Still, now I'm home with no desire to go back and do it all tomorrow. I'm tired and defeated, and the only thing stopping me from crying my eyes out is the knowledge that I have no good reason to cry my eyes out (tell that to my sad gland though).
And thus concludes my whine. Sorry if you tuned in expecting something interesting or non-pathetic. I hear I'm having my left wisdom teeth removed on Thursday...perhaps that will yield something interesting.
* I walked out of the house, locking the door behind me, only to discover the my keys (house and car) were still inside. This, ladies and gentlemen, is why we have a key stashed in the garage.
* I narrowly avoided being hit head-on by a speeding dirt truck who was in my lane "sharing the road" with a bicyclist.
* I narrowly avoided being side-swiped by a convertible BMW merging onto my road off of the local toll road. I recognized this car because he zoomed past me a few days ago on my way in. Apparently road rules don't apply to BMW convertibles. I know where he works...considered leaving a note, but couldn't come up with wording that wouldn't get me fired.
The following happened between 8:00 and 8:30 this morning:
* I found out that the trainer I had scheduled for a class with 6 learners called in, and that I would need to cancel the class.
* The new guy who started yesterday had parked himself in my office waiting for something to do. His stuff was on my desk when I got in, and he literally hovered over my shoulder while I got logged in. He's a nice guy. I blame this morning's little incident on the fact that he is brand new to the company and his manager likes to pawn off work on other people. "Just see Jamie in the morning - she'll get you set up" doesn't fly when his regulatory training is done. OJT is out of my jurisdiction.
While none of these individually were such a big deal, my defenses were down *cough*PMS*cough* and everything together was more than I wanted to handle.
I did have some bright spots, including well-meaning co-workers bringing me some pretzel m&m's, a lunch to celebrate something awesome that happened yesterday (which gave me indigestion...sigh...), and a new electric stapler by the copy machine that has a red light on the front (which I have named K.I.T.T.).
Still, now I'm home with no desire to go back and do it all tomorrow. I'm tired and defeated, and the only thing stopping me from crying my eyes out is the knowledge that I have no good reason to cry my eyes out (tell that to my sad gland though).
And thus concludes my whine. Sorry if you tuned in expecting something interesting or non-pathetic. I hear I'm having my left wisdom teeth removed on Thursday...perhaps that will yield something interesting.
13 June, 2011
Extracted
A few months back, the first time I visited our new dentist, 'removal of wisdom teeth' was once again added to my treatment plan. (With my last dentist, I went so far as to visit an oral surgeon for the initial consult, but with our HMO they had to submit the paperwork to the insurance before the insurance would approve the procedure. The paperwork got screwed up, and I wasn't in any hurry to have this done, so I just pretended the whole thing never happened rather than follow up. Scott's paperwork went through just fine a few months later, and he survived having his taken out just fine. That still didn't inspire me to go through it all.)
Anyway, the new dentist said he could take them out in-office, under novocaine but not anesthesia, two at a time. And so I asked Facebook if anyone could think of a reason why I shouldn't go this route and save myself $500 or more. Aside from a few people with "ooh - dentist - scary" reactions, there really weren't any. So the next time I went in, I scheduled the first two to be pulled - #1 and #32 on the right side.
And now I'm going to attempt to post the juicy part of the story behind a "jump break" to spare anyone who can't bear the horror of what goes on when most people are asleep in the chair. I personally don't think it's so bad, but Scott seemed to get a little squirmy when I told him parts of it.
Anyway, the new dentist said he could take them out in-office, under novocaine but not anesthesia, two at a time. And so I asked Facebook if anyone could think of a reason why I shouldn't go this route and save myself $500 or more. Aside from a few people with "ooh - dentist - scary" reactions, there really weren't any. So the next time I went in, I scheduled the first two to be pulled - #1 and #32 on the right side.
And now I'm going to attempt to post the juicy part of the story behind a "jump break" to spare anyone who can't bear the horror of what goes on when most people are asleep in the chair. I personally don't think it's so bad, but Scott seemed to get a little squirmy when I told him parts of it.
07 June, 2011
All Jamie All the Time
(a book-end post)
Well, it took me about a zillion refreshes over multiple days (during which I found out a connect-seven of Scott pictures isn't nearly as uncommon as I originally suspected), but I finally got an all-Jamie banner:
And because I know you're dying to know, these pictures are from a pretty good variety of places: 10-year Disney party, our room on the Disney Dream, 10-year Disney party, Disney Magic character breakfast, Animal Kingdom (by the hippo viewing window at Pangani), FL Aquarium, and Castaway Cay/Disney Dream.
And now I can stop endlessly refreshing my own blog!
Well, it took me about a zillion refreshes over multiple days (during which I found out a connect-seven of Scott pictures isn't nearly as uncommon as I originally suspected), but I finally got an all-Jamie banner:
And because I know you're dying to know, these pictures are from a pretty good variety of places: 10-year Disney party, our room on the Disney Dream, 10-year Disney party, Disney Magic character breakfast, Animal Kingdom (by the hippo viewing window at Pangani), FL Aquarium, and Castaway Cay/Disney Dream.
And now I can stop endlessly refreshing my own blog!
03 June, 2011
All Scott, All the Time
I just noticed that all of the pictures in the gallery at the top of the blog currently contain Scott. I can definitively say that I have never seen this happen before!
Also of note: only one picture contains any sort of booze. It seems most of the time when there is a camera-worthy occasion, there is also beer and wine. Or a mojito. Or a margarita. Refresh the screen a few times and you'll see what I mean. I guess we're both special occasion photographers and special occasion drinkers!
And in case you were wondering, the photos would be labeled "cruise, cruise, cruise, Epcot, Sea World, Studios, cruise." Or more specifically, "Disney Wonder emergency drill, Castaway Cay/Disney Dream, Castaway Cay/Disney Dream, Epcot parking tram, Sea World penguin building, Mama Melrose's at the Studios, Disney Magic atrium."
I often find myself refreshing the blog whenever I'm blue or bored and wanting to jog happy times back into my brain, so that's why I'm so sure I've never seen this happen before. It's like I won the Flickr slot machine or something!
24 May, 2011
PotD: Almost Empty Nest
All grown up and flying away...sigh...
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
13 May, 2011
Repressed
A quick read through the updates on my favorite blogs last night brought up a long-repressed memory. The blog post in question was about the world's most awkward date, college dorm style. And I'd like to share my own awkward date with you, but first two caveats:
* Yes, I was young and stupid. Not all young and stupid girls end up on the business end of a bloody scimitar. Some of us were also lucky.
* I acknowledge that this might not be funny to you. I was drifting off to sleep last night when my eyes popped open and I started laughing out loud. I told Scott the story, more of the story than I'm going to include here, through laughter-induced tears. He wasn't laughing along. Maybe it's just not funny?
The story takes place very early in my Freshman fall semester at Penn State. I know that because it wasn't yet jacket weather, and because the story starts in the dining hall at breakfast time and I was alone. Breakfast quickly became a social-or-skipped event for me. So anyway, there I am alone eating my breakfast when I am approached by a pair of guys who want to share my table. One is a generic fleshy white guy (picture the guy next to me in this picture. for example only. it wasn't actually him. I can't stress that enough as the story goes on!) and the other is a scrawny Indian guy. They're friends or roommates or something, computer science or math geeks, and the white guy is incredibly chatty.
Somehow, in some details I continue to repress, I end up accepting an invitation to a concert from the generic fleshy guy. And to be clear, when I say "concert," I actually mean Glee Club concert. The Penn State Glee Club, as I'd discover my sophomore year, is an incredibly talented, and mostly gay, group of guys who throw a really fun party. That night, however, I was simply impressed with their talent.
There was rain. I don't know if it was raining the whole time, or if it started to rain as we left the concert. All I know is that "Guy" and I were soaked to the skin. The logical thing to do, apparently, was for us to go to his dorm, because it was closer than mine. And he decided to get changed.
He got changed right in front of me.
And didn't do the gym class shuffle either.
He got completely naked, in all his white fleshy glory.
And so I did what any Jamie in this situation would do: pretend it wasn't happening. Keep talking and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, don't look! Naked guy? What naked guy? No naked guy here! And so, while he's all naked in front of me (you couldn't open the closet and use the door as a shield???), he's talking about being naked. He's talking about nature and how nudity is normal and natural and I'm all "uh huh...mm hmm...HOLY SHIT DO ALL GUYS IN COLLEGE JUST GET NAKED AT THE DROP OF A HAT?" I'm descended from actual Quakers, guys. The good, decent people of my heritage do not think that there is anything normal about stripping in front of strangers. We have a healthy dose of prude, and we think full-body covering is completely natural.
Obviously, there was no reciprocal nakedness from me. Though the remaining details of the evening have been blissfully removed from my memory, I can assure you of that. "Sweet Seventeen and never been naked in front of a stranger," as the song goes.
I do remember him implying, either that night or some time after, that we were dating. (perhaps he didn't just drop his drawers for just any Glee Club groupie after all?) I kindly set the record straight, telling him that I wasn't ready to commit to just one person, that I was young and still finding my way around school and blah blah blah...
About a month later (maybe less?), I was in the company of Guy - please don't ask me to recall the remaining details - and the subject of my boyfriend Evan came up. Guy looked completely heart-broken. "I guess you're ready to commit now?" Umm...well...you see...when a girl isn't interested in a boy, she says she's not ready to be in a relationship. She doesn't just come out and tell him that his nakedness traumatized her to an extent that she won't fully realize until she's in her 30's.
I guess all boys don't know this?
* Yes, I was young and stupid. Not all young and stupid girls end up on the business end of a bloody scimitar. Some of us were also lucky.
* I acknowledge that this might not be funny to you. I was drifting off to sleep last night when my eyes popped open and I started laughing out loud. I told Scott the story, more of the story than I'm going to include here, through laughter-induced tears. He wasn't laughing along. Maybe it's just not funny?
The story takes place very early in my Freshman fall semester at Penn State. I know that because it wasn't yet jacket weather, and because the story starts in the dining hall at breakfast time and I was alone. Breakfast quickly became a social-or-skipped event for me. So anyway, there I am alone eating my breakfast when I am approached by a pair of guys who want to share my table. One is a generic fleshy white guy (picture the guy next to me in this picture. for example only. it wasn't actually him. I can't stress that enough as the story goes on!) and the other is a scrawny Indian guy. They're friends or roommates or something, computer science or math geeks, and the white guy is incredibly chatty.
Somehow, in some details I continue to repress, I end up accepting an invitation to a concert from the generic fleshy guy. And to be clear, when I say "concert," I actually mean Glee Club concert. The Penn State Glee Club, as I'd discover my sophomore year, is an incredibly talented, and mostly gay, group of guys who throw a really fun party. That night, however, I was simply impressed with their talent.
There was rain. I don't know if it was raining the whole time, or if it started to rain as we left the concert. All I know is that "Guy" and I were soaked to the skin. The logical thing to do, apparently, was for us to go to his dorm, because it was closer than mine. And he decided to get changed.
He got changed right in front of me.
And didn't do the gym class shuffle either.
He got completely naked, in all his white fleshy glory.
And so I did what any Jamie in this situation would do: pretend it wasn't happening. Keep talking and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, don't look! Naked guy? What naked guy? No naked guy here! And so, while he's all naked in front of me (you couldn't open the closet and use the door as a shield???), he's talking about being naked. He's talking about nature and how nudity is normal and natural and I'm all "uh huh...mm hmm...HOLY SHIT DO ALL GUYS IN COLLEGE JUST GET NAKED AT THE DROP OF A HAT?" I'm descended from actual Quakers, guys. The good, decent people of my heritage do not think that there is anything normal about stripping in front of strangers. We have a healthy dose of prude, and we think full-body covering is completely natural.
Obviously, there was no reciprocal nakedness from me. Though the remaining details of the evening have been blissfully removed from my memory, I can assure you of that. "Sweet Seventeen and never been naked in front of a stranger," as the song goes.
I do remember him implying, either that night or some time after, that we were dating. (perhaps he didn't just drop his drawers for just any Glee Club groupie after all?) I kindly set the record straight, telling him that I wasn't ready to commit to just one person, that I was young and still finding my way around school and blah blah blah...
About a month later (maybe less?), I was in the company of Guy - please don't ask me to recall the remaining details - and the subject of my boyfriend Evan came up. Guy looked completely heart-broken. "I guess you're ready to commit now?" Umm...well...you see...when a girl isn't interested in a boy, she says she's not ready to be in a relationship. She doesn't just come out and tell him that his nakedness traumatized her to an extent that she won't fully realize until she's in her 30's.
I guess all boys don't know this?
11 May, 2011
PotD: Sword Not Included
Sometimes the jokes just write themselves...which is a good thing, because mine aren't very witty!
Above is an actual vending machine from an actual women's room I visited today. I decided to file this image on the blog, since yesterday I shared a picture of a weird ad on a tampon box (plus my own stellar commentary) on Facebook and didn't get one single "like." Anyway, on to the bad jokes:
- For the unprepared knight
- "They were all out of scabbards...I hope this will work"
- (Sword not included)
- Now made with 0% absorbent steel!
- Won't clash with your chastity belt!
- Probably won't prevent stabbing, but at least no one will see you bleed!
08 May, 2011
Driving Queen
How long does a ride in the car have to be to qualify as a road trip? For me and Scott, I believe the answer is the distance between Orlando and Tampa. Including the stop & go traffic at 'malfunction junction,' (if you've been there, you know where I mean) we're in the car for well over an hour. That's plenty of time to sing along with the radio, drive fast, and get silly. On a recent trip to Tampa we learned the following:
* I still know every word to Debbie Gibson's "Only in my Dreams," yet can't remember what I wore three days ago.
* "The Music and the Mirror" from A Chorus Line is a car-dance-a-palooza! I was driving down I-4 when the song came on, and during the lyric-less portions of the song I launched into some crazy one-handed dancing (the other hand on the wheel of course). There were jazz hands, Vogue poses, and all sorts of ridiculousness. Scott says the guy in front of us probably thought I was waving at him. I think I looked more like I was having a rhythmic seizure!
* Scott knows most of the words to "The Humpty Dance." I know two lines, besides the chorus: "my name is Humpty, pronounced with an umpty," and "my nose is big, big like a pickle."
* Thanks to my free trial of XM radio, we had plenty of commercial-free radio to choose from. Since I made Scott my "music navigator," I also let him program the last 12 pre-set buttons. I can almost completely skip the second page of pre-sets, since they include Bollywood, Greatful Dead, and Margaritaville (where, by the way, I have yet to hear a Buffett song).
We were down in Tampa to see Shrek the Musical at the Straz Center. It was pretty good. The caliber of the performers was top-notch, as were the staging and sets/effects. The show was amusing, and didn't rely on the jokes from the movie as much as I'd expected (but still included the "Welcome to Duloc" song, which cracked me up). It got long-winded in Act Two though, and I found myself wondering how much longer it would be. And of course, I should mention that children who are too young to sit through the 90-minute movie without talking probably shouldn't be going to the two-hour live show. Especially when tickets in the cheap seats are $50 or more. I had a small child directly behind me, and two - including one who couldn't have been 3 - to my left. The whining and talking was almost too much to bear.
* I still know every word to Debbie Gibson's "Only in my Dreams," yet can't remember what I wore three days ago.
* "The Music and the Mirror" from A Chorus Line is a car-dance-a-palooza! I was driving down I-4 when the song came on, and during the lyric-less portions of the song I launched into some crazy one-handed dancing (the other hand on the wheel of course). There were jazz hands, Vogue poses, and all sorts of ridiculousness. Scott says the guy in front of us probably thought I was waving at him. I think I looked more like I was having a rhythmic seizure!
* Scott knows most of the words to "The Humpty Dance." I know two lines, besides the chorus: "my name is Humpty, pronounced with an umpty," and "my nose is big, big like a pickle."
* Thanks to my free trial of XM radio, we had plenty of commercial-free radio to choose from. Since I made Scott my "music navigator," I also let him program the last 12 pre-set buttons. I can almost completely skip the second page of pre-sets, since they include Bollywood, Greatful Dead, and Margaritaville (where, by the way, I have yet to hear a Buffett song).
We were down in Tampa to see Shrek the Musical at the Straz Center. It was pretty good. The caliber of the performers was top-notch, as were the staging and sets/effects. The show was amusing, and didn't rely on the jokes from the movie as much as I'd expected (but still included the "Welcome to Duloc" song, which cracked me up). It got long-winded in Act Two though, and I found myself wondering how much longer it would be. And of course, I should mention that children who are too young to sit through the 90-minute movie without talking probably shouldn't be going to the two-hour live show. Especially when tickets in the cheap seats are $50 or more. I had a small child directly behind me, and two - including one who couldn't have been 3 - to my left. The whining and talking was almost too much to bear.
For the Birds
Here's a bit of randomness for you on a Sunday morning:
(and if the video doesn't embed, which the preview suggests it won't, here's the link)
(and if the video doesn't embed, which the preview suggests it won't, here's the link)
03 May, 2011
Where Were You When...
The bathroom.
Both times.
September 11, 2001: I was in the bathtub shaving my legs (yes, two momentous events at once. shut up!) when my dad knocked on the bathroom door and said he thought something big was happening, and that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. “Was it an accident?” “I don’t think so.” He had that tone of voice that said “I’m remaining calm on the outside but freaking the f--- out on the inside.” I don’t for sure remember the words – or even whether he mentioned the Pentagon or the second plane in New York – but I’ll always remember the voice.
May 1, 2011 May 2, 2011: I was on the toilet reading my e-mails. It’s my morning ritual – I stagger out of our bedroom and down the hall to “my” bathroom and pet Elphie while I pee. Then I sit there and read my e-mails and sometimes Facebook on my phone before I get in the shower. Scott had sent me two e-mails, and I got the second one first – “no French toast, up late watching the news” or something like that. And then the first e-mail actually explained what was going on. Most of my Facebook stream was updates from ABC News, with a few friends’ reactions scattered through. I’m still not quite sure why Scott sent the two e-mails (while laying in bed right next to me) rather than wake me up, but there you have it.
Anyone else have a bare-bottom story involving bin Laden? On second thought, never mind. I’d rather not know!
Both times.
September 11, 2001: I was in the bathtub shaving my legs (yes, two momentous events at once. shut up!) when my dad knocked on the bathroom door and said he thought something big was happening, and that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. “Was it an accident?” “I don’t think so.” He had that tone of voice that said “I’m remaining calm on the outside but freaking the f--- out on the inside.” I don’t for sure remember the words – or even whether he mentioned the Pentagon or the second plane in New York – but I’ll always remember the voice.
Anyone else have a bare-bottom story involving bin Laden? On second thought, never mind. I’d rather not know!
02 May, 2011
Statutory
This is one of those stories Scott just won't see the charm/humor in. Below is a conversation between me and one of the guys who work in my building. He's probably 20 years older than me and is one of those people who do a tight-rope walk on the line between friendly/flirty and harassment.
Him: you *really* look great in that! 20 years ago you'd be in trouble.
Me: 20 years ago you'd be in jail. I was 12!
Him: oh...huh!
I'll take my flattery with a side of dirty old man, please!
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
Him: you *really* look great in that! 20 years ago you'd be in trouble.
Me: 20 years ago you'd be in jail. I was 12!
Him: oh...huh!
I'll take my flattery with a side of dirty old man, please!
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
Not to be a Buzz Kill...
I awoke this morning to the news that Osama bin Laden is dead.
Kind of shocking, no?
Even more shocking is that he was living in a mansion, and not in a mountainous cave. I guess we lost that bet!
I also awoke to the news of the American reaction: partying at Ground Zero and the White House. They don't think this is over, do they? I'm pretty sure bin Laden wasn't controlling his people with a Jafar-like magical staff, hypnotizing them to do his evil bidding. This isn't the end, and in the short-term I worry that there's going to be a lot of hatred and violent intentions pointed straight at us. I'm betting they had a contingency plan for an event like this.
...I just hope that we know what's coming before it actually hits us.
So congratulations Navy Seals on your awesome job yesterday. Let's all keep our eyes on the ball and hope they got some good intel out of that "cave" in "Afghanistan" and that this really does mean the end of this war is significantly closer than it was this time yesterday. But remember, we're not there yet.
Kind of shocking, no?
Even more shocking is that he was living in a mansion, and not in a mountainous cave. I guess we lost that bet!
I also awoke to the news of the American reaction: partying at Ground Zero and the White House. They don't think this is over, do they? I'm pretty sure bin Laden wasn't controlling his people with a Jafar-like magical staff, hypnotizing them to do his evil bidding. This isn't the end, and in the short-term I worry that there's going to be a lot of hatred and violent intentions pointed straight at us. I'm betting they had a contingency plan for an event like this.
 |
| Not actually Osama bin Laden |
So congratulations Navy Seals on your awesome job yesterday. Let's all keep our eyes on the ball and hope they got some good intel out of that "cave" in "Afghanistan" and that this really does mean the end of this war is significantly closer than it was this time yesterday. But remember, we're not there yet.
01 May, 2011
Thought for Food
The oven timer has about 45 minutes left on it, though dinner certainly isn't going to be before 5, since that's when Scott gets home from work. I'm trying my hand at making Sunday pork ragout (a.k.a. my attempt at being an Italian grandmother, which is difficult, since I'm neither Italian nor have a grandmother to teach me how to make recipes from the old country!) again. The last time I tried it, the pork was tasty, but not tender enough to shred, and the vegetables hadn't turned mushy enough even after a whirr with the stick blender.
Flavor: B+, texture: C-, from-scratch potato gnocchi: D-
The recipe calls for a slow cooker, which I don't have. So I found out what temperature "low" is on a slow cooker and cooked dinner in the oven in a heavy pot with a lid. I read that "low" is 150-175, so last time I cooked the meat on 150, and then raised the temperature at the end to get it to safe eating temperature. This time, I'm cooking it on 175 and not even thinking about testing for done-ness until 7 hours in. I also cut my vegetables into smaller pieces - not quite a dice, but closer to that that the stew-worthy chunks I did last time.
It's a strange feeling for me, setting my alarm for 8 am on a Sunday to get up and chop veggies, brown an enormous chunk of meat, and stick dinner in the oven...and then to do morning things like shower and have breakfast. I doubt I'd ever do this stuff regularly, but I do enjoy it occasionally.
When the timer goes off, I'm going to check the temperature of my meat and check the tenderness of my veggies. And unlike last time, I'm not going to rush this. If the stuff in the pot isn't ready, I'll stick it back in for another 45 minutes and not check again until then.
...but I hope it's ready, because it smells really good and I'm already getting sort of hungry!
Flavor: B+, texture: C-, from-scratch potato gnocchi: D-
The recipe calls for a slow cooker, which I don't have. So I found out what temperature "low" is on a slow cooker and cooked dinner in the oven in a heavy pot with a lid. I read that "low" is 150-175, so last time I cooked the meat on 150, and then raised the temperature at the end to get it to safe eating temperature. This time, I'm cooking it on 175 and not even thinking about testing for done-ness until 7 hours in. I also cut my vegetables into smaller pieces - not quite a dice, but closer to that that the stew-worthy chunks I did last time.
It's a strange feeling for me, setting my alarm for 8 am on a Sunday to get up and chop veggies, brown an enormous chunk of meat, and stick dinner in the oven...and then to do morning things like shower and have breakfast. I doubt I'd ever do this stuff regularly, but I do enjoy it occasionally.
When the timer goes off, I'm going to check the temperature of my meat and check the tenderness of my veggies. And unlike last time, I'm not going to rush this. If the stuff in the pot isn't ready, I'll stick it back in for another 45 minutes and not check again until then.
...but I hope it's ready, because it smells really good and I'm already getting sort of hungry!
29 April, 2011
A Post That's Not About the Birds...But Does Include a Bird...Sort Of...
Do you ever have one of those moments where you look around and feel like you have stopped on the side of the highway of life and everyone else is flying past you in a shiny new car? Oh no? Me neither...
I had one of those moments earlier this week, and Scott and I agreed that I could have 24 hours to wallow ("it's like quicksand," I tried to explain to him, "you have to just be still. if you try to force yourself out of it you'll drown."). It turns out I needed just about exactly 24 hours. My rescue came in the form of 3 guys from China - ok, 2 from Hong Kong and 1 from Shanghai - and a strange and fun lunch.
There's a whole van full of the guys in town this week, taking a class from the training manager in my building (whose only connection to me and my job is a shared boss - it's a weird department!). (guys, I WISH I could spill all about the class...and the classroom... it's so cool I wish I'd studied engineering or electronics or something in school. dang!) The training manager invited me out to lunch "with the Hong Kong guys," and I figured I might as well go, if for no other reason than to pick on the baby-faced naive intern. (Fridays are traditionally "Poke the Intern Day," but I had today off)
So I ended up at lunch at a table with the manager, the intern, and 3 guys from the other side of the planet. The conversation ranged from their love of barbeque and Mexican food to geography and population density. You know, just your average smalltalk! Some highlights:
Also of possible interest to some of you, the 5-year pin from HKDL is the same as the domestic parks, but the opening team pin (they got them for the 5th anniversary celebration this year or last) and the nametag were very new and different to me. Very cool!
I had one of those moments earlier this week, and Scott and I agreed that I could have 24 hours to wallow ("it's like quicksand," I tried to explain to him, "you have to just be still. if you try to force yourself out of it you'll drown."). It turns out I needed just about exactly 24 hours. My rescue came in the form of 3 guys from China - ok, 2 from Hong Kong and 1 from Shanghai - and a strange and fun lunch.
There's a whole van full of the guys in town this week, taking a class from the training manager in my building (whose only connection to me and my job is a shared boss - it's a weird department!). (guys, I WISH I could spill all about the class...and the classroom... it's so cool I wish I'd studied engineering or electronics or something in school. dang!) The training manager invited me out to lunch "with the Hong Kong guys," and I figured I might as well go, if for no other reason than to pick on the baby-faced naive intern. (Fridays are traditionally "Poke the Intern Day," but I had today off)
So I ended up at lunch at a table with the manager, the intern, and 3 guys from the other side of the planet. The conversation ranged from their love of barbeque and Mexican food to geography and population density. You know, just your average smalltalk! Some highlights:
- In Hong Kong, they use bamboo scaffolding when building high-rise buildings. 25 stories tall! And there's no OSHA requirements for fall protection harnesses either!
- The Hong Kong $10 bill isn't paper. It's paper-thin plastic that's sturdier than your average shopping bag, and it has a see-through spot on it. The other bills are paper.
- These guys must have learned their English from The Wizard of Oz. Our conversation about the terrible storms north of us included the word "twisters."
- China is shaped like a cock. (see the title of this post - I always get there eventually!) The guy who currently lives in Shanghai was originally from Shandong Province. We asked where that was and he said "China is shaped like a cock. Shandong is in the chest of the cock." I, thank the Lord, did NOT say "so is Florida!" And also? I couldn't remember the name of the province just now, only that it started with S, so I pulled up this map and was able to find it based on his description. What do you know?!?
- China has a desert. (this might be the part where I got to be the stereotypical ignorant American. "there's desert in China?") Apparently it's up near Russia.
- China has 31 provinces, and has 5 stars on its flag. This came up because they said that they heard most Americans traveling abroad didn't know how many stars are on the US flag.
Also of possible interest to some of you, the 5-year pin from HKDL is the same as the domestic parks, but the opening team pin (they got them for the 5th anniversary celebration this year or last) and the nametag were very new and different to me. Very cool!
19 April, 2011
Full Circle
It was November when I spotted this pair of bald eagles together for the first time. In December, I realized that they were nesting. The hatching probably happened in January, completely hidden from those of us on the ground. I saw the chicks for the first time in February, and watched their fuzzy little heads sticking up more and more over the nest in March. In the beginning of April, they all of a sudden looked like full-grown hawks. And now, my baby birds are leaving the nest. Today I saw both of them sitting on the tree where I met their parents.
I also saw something pretty awesome yesterday morning. One of the eaglets was on the "daddy tree," and while I was watching took off on a short flight around the clump of trees. In another few weeks, after they've learned to hunt and their wings get accustomed to longer flights, they'll leave the nest and never return. Adults re-use the same nests fairly often, so maybe we'll get to do it all over again next year. I hope so - I'm already lamenting the empty nest!
PotD: Triple Digits
Small favors, right?
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
17 April, 2011
Poacher!
The dog next door was barking like mad a little while ago. She's not a barker by nature, so I figured there was somebody outside. When I looked, there was Harley walking along with a fish in his beak that was about the size of my hand. Harley's head, as you probably remember, is about the size of a ping pong ball.
I was upstairs and immediately galloped downstairs (yeah, about as graceful as you're picturing) to grab the camera. When I got to the side window and opened the blinds, Harley was there but had put down the fish. There was no way he was going to swallow this thing whole, so I guess he was going to pick at the flesh? And so I focused the camera as well as I could through the screen and waited. Before I could get a single picture, he flew away. Without the fish.
What the...?
...and then an eagle landed on top of the fish! That son of a gun is poaching fish from other birds! OK, I get that he has two increasingly large mouths to feed that can't quite leave the nest to hunt for themselves, but it just seems such a cruel way to make a living.
I was upstairs and immediately galloped downstairs (yeah, about as graceful as you're picturing) to grab the camera. When I got to the side window and opened the blinds, Harley was there but had put down the fish. There was no way he was going to swallow this thing whole, so I guess he was going to pick at the flesh? And so I focused the camera as well as I could through the screen and waited. Before I could get a single picture, he flew away. Without the fish.
What the...?
...and then an eagle landed on top of the fish! That son of a gun is poaching fish from other birds! OK, I get that he has two increasingly large mouths to feed that can't quite leave the nest to hunt for themselves, but it just seems such a cruel way to make a living.(at this point I will refrain from pointing out how interesting it is that our forefathers chose the bald eagle as the symbol of our country - the predator that sees something it wants and takes that thing away from the 'lesser' creature that did all the work in the first place)
Anyway, I did manage to get two other pictures before lunch flew back to the nest. Hope you enjoy them!
09 April, 2011
PotD: Ready
In our defense, we buy it when it's BOGO, and it's been BOGO a lot recently! 21 cans of tuna? Yeah, I'd say that's excessive!
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
08 April, 2011
Vultures? Hawks? No, Eagles!
05 April, 2011
PotD: Hidden Mickey
We painted over the X.
And last night, on his first backing-in attempt, he hit my bike!
This Hidden Mickey is just a temporary fix, but one I have faith in. Fingers crossed...
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
04 April, 2011
Happy Birthday Christina
I realized this morning that today is my baby sister's 10th birthday.
I haven't seen her since she was two.
This is the last picture I have with her.
I think we'd all agree that I don't casually toss around the word 'hate.' Like most hateful words, I think it's a little stronger than is generally appropriate. But today Christina kept drifting into my mind, and every time I had to make a conscious effort to not hate her mother.
This isn't the first time I've asked for strength to stop hating her. See most of March 2006, or this extra-special entry from April of the same year for past examples.
But unlike my fiery-hot rage of five years ago, this is different. This is the quiet defeat of someone who has quite literally lost her family. It's heart-break. It's knowing that, in being the bigger person and not complaining to my dad about her back-stabbing and manipulation when I had the chance, I let her win.
This afternoon, I read a painfully beautiful account of how one of my favorite bloggers said goodbye to her dying father. I cried for her, and then I found myself crying for me. Honestly (and it's my own blog, so screw anyone who calls me selfish for this) I was jealous of her. I was jealous that she had that kind of relationship with her dad. And I was jealous that she was able to say goodbye. I'm pretty sure that if my dad died tomorrow, I wouldn't be on the list of people who'd be notified. Whenever I run into him, I find myself overwhelmingly grateful just to know that he's ok. It's a pretty crappy way to go through life.
I don't know what Christina looks like now, how tall she is or whether her hair is still curly. The last time I asked about her, Dad said she was on the honor roll. Maybe she still is. I hope that she's happy, and that she turns out ok, despite living in Mother Gothel's alternate universe.
Happy birthday, baby sister.
I haven't seen her since she was two.I think we'd all agree that I don't casually toss around the word 'hate.' Like most hateful words, I think it's a little stronger than is generally appropriate. But today Christina kept drifting into my mind, and every time I had to make a conscious effort to not hate her mother.
This isn't the first time I've asked for strength to stop hating her. See most of March 2006, or this extra-special entry from April of the same year for past examples.
But unlike my fiery-hot rage of five years ago, this is different. This is the quiet defeat of someone who has quite literally lost her family. It's heart-break. It's knowing that, in being the bigger person and not complaining to my dad about her back-stabbing and manipulation when I had the chance, I let her win.
This afternoon, I read a painfully beautiful account of how one of my favorite bloggers said goodbye to her dying father. I cried for her, and then I found myself crying for me. Honestly (and it's my own blog, so screw anyone who calls me selfish for this) I was jealous of her. I was jealous that she had that kind of relationship with her dad. And I was jealous that she was able to say goodbye. I'm pretty sure that if my dad died tomorrow, I wouldn't be on the list of people who'd be notified. Whenever I run into him, I find myself overwhelmingly grateful just to know that he's ok. It's a pretty crappy way to go through life.
I don't know what Christina looks like now, how tall she is or whether her hair is still curly. The last time I asked about her, Dad said she was on the honor roll. Maybe she still is. I hope that she's happy, and that she turns out ok, despite living in Mother Gothel's alternate universe.
Happy birthday, baby sister.
PotD: Halfway There
Can't wait!
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
03 April, 2011
PotD: Work in Progress
What do you think so far?
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
31 March, 2011
PotD: Flooded
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
11 March, 2011
Sammiches
I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast yesterday morning. There were only 3 slices of bread (plus the end pieces, which neither Scott nor I will eat), so I made it a double-decker. I ate it at my desk, and it was delicious.
Last night, I dreamt that I wanted another PB&J sandwich, but remembered that we were out of bread. And lo, I turned my head and saw a previously unseen full beautiful loaf of bread on the counter. "Now I can make a sandwich!"
I woke up this morning, eagerly anticipating that creamy rich peanut butter and delicious sweet grape jam, only to remember that there was, in fact, no bread in the house. And I was sad.
I repeated the story at work, and nearly cried over my peanut butter deprivation.
I repeated the story to Scott when I got home, the sandwich-shaped hole in my heart still gaping.
And now I'm telling you.
Damn, I miss that sandwich.
Last night, I dreamt that I wanted another PB&J sandwich, but remembered that we were out of bread. And lo, I turned my head and saw a previously unseen full beautiful loaf of bread on the counter. "Now I can make a sandwich!"
I woke up this morning, eagerly anticipating that creamy rich peanut butter and delicious sweet grape jam, only to remember that there was, in fact, no bread in the house. And I was sad.
I repeated the story at work, and nearly cried over my peanut butter deprivation.
I repeated the story to Scott when I got home, the sandwich-shaped hole in my heart still gaping.
And now I'm telling you.
Damn, I miss that sandwich.
Playing Games
Currently, Scott and I are sitting in the living room together, he playing some sort of shoot-'em-up game, and me playing Tetris Battle on Facebook (WHY are the rest of you not playing this game???). His game has a steady stream of background dialog that I believe is supposed to be radio chatter, but I don't know because I generally tune it out.
Me: "I could've sworn your game just said 'Panko's been hit!' and all I could think was 'not the breadcrumbs!'
Scott: ---
Nothing, not a snort or a grunt of acknowledgement, not even a 'shut up.' I'm not sure whether he is actively ignoring me, or genuinely didn't hear due to an XBox coma. In case it's the former, I think I'll just sit here quietly and talk to you nice folks.
So...
If you're overwhelmed by the magnitude of the disaster in Japan, might I recommend two of the funniest blog posts* I've read in ages...
But Wait! Breaking News! Scott's phone just beeped and he immediately looked at it. He's definitely not in an XBox coma...must just be ignoring me. Good to know! (and no, Scott, I don't think you're being rude, so don't be offended. I just think it's funny that I'm currently conversing with you in this fashion)
The Drawer of Shame and Other Assorted Oddities, over at Jennsylvania is a brilliant piece of writing about what happens when your cat eats a meat-flavored piece of string. I dedicate this link to Mr. French and the great turkey string incident of my childhood.
Ribbed...for Her Pleasure, from A Little Pregnant has a hysterical grouping of comments from her previous blog post. They're mostly about assvice and other stupid things people were told when pregnant or trying to become so. The comments start about halfway down the post, and you can skip the first half if you're not interested in the context.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to Tetris.
*granted, I tend to laugh a little harder when I'm trying to not be overwhelmed by sadness, but I still think these would be funny otherwise.
Me: "I could've sworn your game just said 'Panko's been hit!' and all I could think was 'not the breadcrumbs!'
Scott: ---
Nothing, not a snort or a grunt of acknowledgement, not even a 'shut up.' I'm not sure whether he is actively ignoring me, or genuinely didn't hear due to an XBox coma. In case it's the former, I think I'll just sit here quietly and talk to you nice folks.
So...
If you're overwhelmed by the magnitude of the disaster in Japan, might I recommend two of the funniest blog posts* I've read in ages...
But Wait! Breaking News! Scott's phone just beeped and he immediately looked at it. He's definitely not in an XBox coma...must just be ignoring me. Good to know! (and no, Scott, I don't think you're being rude, so don't be offended. I just think it's funny that I'm currently conversing with you in this fashion)
The Drawer of Shame and Other Assorted Oddities, over at Jennsylvania is a brilliant piece of writing about what happens when your cat eats a meat-flavored piece of string. I dedicate this link to Mr. French and the great turkey string incident of my childhood.
Ribbed...for Her Pleasure, from A Little Pregnant has a hysterical grouping of comments from her previous blog post. They're mostly about assvice and other stupid things people were told when pregnant or trying to become so. The comments start about halfway down the post, and you can skip the first half if you're not interested in the context.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to Tetris.
*granted, I tend to laugh a little harder when I'm trying to not be overwhelmed by sadness, but I still think these would be funny otherwise.
10 March, 2011
PotD: Might Rain!
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
07 March, 2011
Just Because
Recycling: great for bottles and cans, less great for blogs. That said, I feel that the previous post contained possibly the greatest run-on sentence ever and deserves another chance at the spotlight:
Too late!
This project hasn't been easy so far - the carpet is fo' shizzle on the to-do list, since it's got some blue spots that'll probably never come out even with the use of the Kilo Memorial Steam Cleaner; Scott can barely lift his arms (apparently paint-rolling the ceiling uses muscles that he doesn't usually use); and I, as the designated cutter-inner, took so many trips up and down the ladder that my thighs are still burning.It has urban slang, a reference to cat pee, and burning thighs. I should've been an English major - this could be Beowulf for the 2010's, people! Now leave me a damn comment before I start posting YouTube videos of my childhood.
Too late!
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