Belated Birthday Lunch Triathlon

Fella bought me a belated birthday lunch yesterday. Actually, he bought me several belated lunches yesterday. This was number two and three. For some reason (I don't remember what it was, but then I guess we were never the kind to need one), we decided it would be a good idea to have a lunch triathlon. First stop: Trenary's, the Irish restaurant famous for The Matador, but famous to us for The Halibut Sandwich. Second stop: Hoagieville. Third stop: Dairy Queen. We pooped out on the 3rd leg of the race, but only because we discovered that Hoagieville had giant (Oreo) shakes which negated the need (yes, need) for DQ. So it isn't really pooping out, per se. It's more like getting off your bike and deciding not to finish the race. So, instead of running the course, you run back to your car which happens to be parked 3.1 miles away, or 26.2 miles, if you're an ironman. Am I right, Fella? It's been a while. We were comparing it to the Nap's challenge which is still on the agenda ('though Fella has already conquered), and Fella says we're probably only 60% there. This is bad news considering how excited I was at the idea of having a missions fundraising hot dog/Oreo eating competition between #1 Sister, LaFalda and I. Fella and I deliberated over whether gambling and gluttony would be an offensive way to raise funds for missions, but decided it was all for a good cause. Possibly a moot point now.

Fella in a "real" triathlon

Thanks for the lunches, Fella. It just occurred to me that you probably hate that name. It sounds like a horse's name. That's funny. Love you, kid. Always will.

All You Can Eat

Yesterday I met with Twin and Rocket for dinner at everyone's favorite greasy spoon. Gene wasn't there, but we think maybe Christy was. Sadly, she left before we could all decide on what to order. I think we went through quite a few waitresses that way, actually. And yes. It was all my fault.

Rocket's decision was made easy by the All-You-Can-Eat-Shrimp challenge. I believe his exact words were, "Oh yeah. I could eat like a million of these". Sorry, Rocket, but I only counted like 50 and half of those were tails. Still, it's good to know they will refill your shrimp if you need it--and apparently your Coke as well. Although they (or certain unnamed parties) may not let you write a check for $1.

Twin, you know I can't resist a challenge. Rocket, you may hate me now, but you'll change your tune when the ladies come-a-knockin'. Well, I'm out. Gonna go say hello to Rocket downtown before I enter arch nemesis territory. Then I get to eat all I can eat with Fella. Hooray!

Yesterday

Yesterday was a good day. Boy let me listen to MO-DO as we drove to Wal-Mart to turn in our film. I believe the phrase "I hope you're happy" was breathed more than a few times. And I was. Sehr, sehr happy. Is there anyone on earth who wouldn't be at the apparent sound of Arnold doing techno? We later walked down by the river and read. Boy finished one of his many Nero Wolfe books and I read some S.J. Perelman stories. We also discussed various get-rich-quick schemes. I don't want to be rich; I just want to get rich quickly so I can give it away to go to Africa. We're thinking we should do something with all these photos we take. And of course, stop spending money. This is where the $1-a-day diet comes in, but more on that later. Or not. That would be a pretty boring blog. I actually stumbled across a blog last night that was nothing but the writer's food consumption and exercise regimen. It depressed me for so many reasons. Twin and I hung out in the evening. She bought me Dairy Queen and we laughed and talked for hours on end about The Inexhaustible Topic. I love my cousins.

Wilderness Family

Friday morning I got off work and went home to pack for a weekend of backpacking with my family. I met up with my sisters and dog-nieces. We drove to the town of Drummond, about 50 or 60 miles away, where we met my dad. My mom was unable to come since she had too much work to do. I rode with my dad for another 20 or 30 miles to the town of Phillipsburg (Home of The Sweet Palace). We made candy store & malt shop stops before heading out into the wilds.

It was in the 90's (temperature-wise) when we began our trek through the Anaconda-Pintlar Wilderness. We hiked for a few hours before stopping to read the map and make some dinner in a mosquito infested swamp meadow. Once settled into our meal of rehydrated spaghetti and peanut butter pie (pretty good for a powdered meal in a bag), Dad and #2 Sister began to discuss the possibility that we were lost. It was decided that we should pitch our tents in the swamp meadow before trying to move on or find our way. The news of our wrong turn which led us on the path to current nowhere was broken gently to #1 Sister and I. I suggested that when we backtrack in the morning, we just backtrack all the way to The Sweet Palace. #1 Sister suggested the lake we had passed on the road to the trailhead. We weren't poor sports, really, just a couple of tuckered out kids who'd been eaten alive by vampire mosquitoes. Dad said we'd discuss the matter later.

Somehow we never got around to voting on our backtrack destination that next morning. A few minutes into our backward detour, someone suggested that getting back on the right trail would best be achieved by climbing straight up the side of a fallen tree strewn mountain. Several hours and a few pant-rips later, we found our trail, where 10,000 bloodsucking insects were kind enough to wait for our arrival. My sisters and I fantasized about meeting strangers armed with DEET. #2 Sister had come prepared with lots of pleasant smelling natural insect repellents at the smell of which, every mosquito in the forest promptly erupted in laughter. #2 Sister said she would offer $10 for real bug spray. I said I would barter my digital camera, and as the afternoon progressed, my soul. (I was only kidding about my soul).

Meanwhile, Dad had been promising us for 2 dank, steep miles that "The Meadow" was just another 300 yards away. The Meadow was where we would stop and rest. He made good on his last promise all right, but someone had beat us to it. Further investigation revealed 2 friendly faces with horses (and horses with faces) bearing gifts: AN INDUSTRIAL-SIZED CAN OF BUG SPRAY. We invited ourselves into their camp and sat down for cheese, sausage and cracker lunch with our new friends for life. It turns out that our new friends for life may have lied to us, but I didn't really care because, for a few blissful hours, the mosquitoes flew in another direction.

Eventually we got back on the trail and still more eventually, we reached our destination:
Hoodwink Lake*, at the base of Swindle Peak* in the Anaconda-Pintlar Wilderness

We camped there overnight. Dad and #2 Sister went fishing. Dad lost part of his collapsible fishing pole in the lake, but caught a little Mr. Fishy. #1 Sister and I napped and made Mad Libs. The next morning, Dad made blueberry griddlecakes with strawberry syrup and we packed up and headed for home. Home (the car) was further away than we thought, but we made it. Dad took us out for lunch. We were all excited to use the bathrooms. When it came my turn, there was one toilet on the verge of overflow and one occupied. While I waited for the occupied one to clear, another lady came in and used the on the verge toilet. As I was finishing up my business in the next stall, the on the verge toilet was flushed and was no longer on the verge, but in full on overflow mode. The lady screamed and ran. I dodged the flood and even managed to wash my hands.

Another hour or so's drive brought us home, where all I wanted to do was shower and shave. Sadly, I ran out of body wash mid-shower. Well, half clean & shaven is better than not, I reckon. Now it's off to work, but tomorrow I'm turning my film in to be developed! You have not heard (or seen) the end of this journey, I'm afraid.

I had to show you a picture so you wouldn't think I was just being a
whiney baby. I look like an ad for acne arm...or armne.

I think that, if you ask me in a few days--when the swelling goes down and the hunchback disappears and the happy feet return--I will say it was definitely all worth it. If nothing else, it is worth it to have stories to tell the children I would have had before being rendered barren by one too many log-straddles.

*The real names of these locations are of course, Tamarack Lake and Warren Peak. But after cheating my sisters out of a hot-day swim (I forgot to tell you it rained) and myself out of no less than 3 s'mores, I thought they deserved to be rechristened.

Saturday Part III: Palling Around

Pal, I know you'll hate this, but I just wanted to relive the memory.

I only get to see my friend Pal about once or twice a year. There is never enough time to do and say all the things we want to, but for seven happy hours on Saturday evening, we were able to share some Pal & Ed traditions.

1. A much-needed couch session. This is what we call our catching up sessions and talk therapy.
2. A stroll downtown.
3. Banana Pepper Pizza from Little Caesar's. Nothing better. Fella turned me over to the dark side of pepperoni, but I am beginning (again) to see the light.
4. Shopping for old movies at Hastings. I bought Bedtime for Bonzo. Highly recommended.
5. Staying up late watching Stage Door (another great old movie) and eating Red Vines, jelly beans and Reese's Pieces (a member of the nut family). Further decaying our teeth with Huckleberry Flathead Monster soda. Not so much recommended.

Pal, I miss you and I'm praying for you. I'm so happy you're my friend.

Saturday Part II: Just Like Grandma

Grandma with a daisy in her hair.

After shopping on Saturday, my mom and I met up with Dad, # 1 Sister and Grandma for lunch. Now I try not to throw this around too much because nobody likes a braggart, but I have the best Grandma in the whole world. I hope to be like her when I'm her age. Or even now. She's so quick. You may think she's all sweet and innocent, but then out comes the sass and mischief.

We all met at one of my favorite places. We were a little nervous that Grandma might not like it (when you're a good cook, you get the luxury of being nonenthused at restaurants), but she totally did. She even got my favorite item. Just like me. She got the giggles when she saw what she thought was a girl that looked just like my sister, only to have "her" turn around and have a beard.

I think the only time I had a beer (in a shot glass) was at one of these places. It came after a long year of hilarious nagging by a fellow bank employee. They had a little going-away dinner for me there and I happily caved. Not bad. Apparently his daughter is this girl's roommate. Tis a small world indeed.

The Worst Way to Start the Day

My morning at work has made me a little nervous to let this day unfold. I forgot to set the alarm and I slept in til 6:35. "At least that still gives me time to shower," I thought. So I turned on the hot water and in my haste, knocked my comb off the sink into the unflushed toilet. I didn't have wits enough to get gloves, which would have required getting dressed, so I just reached my hand in and grabbed it out. Needless to say, I spent most of the morning washing my hands and sterilizing my comb. At least I have my own toilet at work. At home I'd just have to kiss that comb good-bye. Now there's a mental picture.

Saturday Part I: Antiquing

I know. My posts are all mixed up. But I figured I'd better get that 4th of July post up there before Twin and Rocket decided to take me out.


Mom's pretty desperate for grandkids.

On Saturday, my mom and I went birthday shopping. I guess where they live, there are no presents to be had. Well, not really. The shopping itself was actually part of her present to me. I never go shopping these days. My shopping life takes place in a 3 mile radius which is further limited by how much I want to carry home on foot. Besides that, no one will shop with me because I'm such a nuisance. Poor Fella. This was his life for three years:

Me: I just need to grab one thing really quick...
(2 hours later)
Me: Oh, I don't know. Which one do you think I should get?
Fella: (ever so patiently) Get that one. It's much cooler.
Me: Okay...yeah...but...hmmm...
(I'd eventually buy whichever one he didn't suggest, or worse, buy nothing at all)

It continually amazes me that he never just lost it. Well, now you know how that went. But today's post is not about that. So yes. Shopping with my mom, for better or for worse, is very much like shopping with myself. When she says, "I just need to grab one thing really quick," we all just pretty much laugh. And she laughs too. So Saturday we went to The Antique Mall to try to find some kitchen chairs. (That's the other half of the Fella story--ha ha). I didn't find any, but we had fun just looking around. And then mom saw...




...IT! Green glitter naugahyde with a magazine rack underneath! That's me! A sparkly poodle and this?? What more could a girl want?








Now I have a new place for the magnetic magic to occur...

A Happy 4th

Last night Twin and Rocket kidnapped me from work so that I could watch fireworks with them. It is tradition for Twin's family and mine to go to "The Brown Church" by our old houses and watch the mall's display. Out of both of our families, only Twin and I were able to keep the tradition alive, but we made a convert of Rocket, so I think that counts double. (For what, I'm not sure). It's a good thing too, because we lost points in forgetting to bring chocolate licorice, Bugles and...



sparklers!



















We didn't forget to call out wedding color predictions, though. Hmm...pink and blue? Must be Rocket's!















After "The Grannnd Finnnalleee...", it was back to work for me (where neighborhood fireworks ensued). I tried to sleep but, for some reason I had Mr. Roboto and the image of a man with confetti eyes hopelessly stuck in my head.

Bugs, Hobos and Cake

On Friday I went to the County Health Department to get all my Africa shots. I met with an awesome nurse who explained to me all the different ways I could die. There's a lot of nasty diseases riding around on the backs of African mosquitoes. As it turned out, I was too broke and perhaps too much of a pansy to get all my shots/pills in one day. Thankfully I have a little time, so I can take advantage of the pay/pain-as-you-go method. Oddly enough, I'm even more excited to go now. And nobody hates bugs more than me. Many a friend has come to my door, only to find me paralyzed in a spider staredown. I'm always afraid of losing sight of them, so I watch and wait until a bugslayer comes to rescue me. Whenever I think that I'll just stay an old maid, a bug comes along to remind me I can't. I once had an arrangement with a friend of mine. I'd marry him for his bugslaying abilities and he'd marry me for my dishwashing skills. Maybe I should just learn to like cats.

My sister works in the basement of the County Health Department, so she was kind enough to wait for me to get needled and warned and then walked home with me. We met later at my Grandma's house for my dream meal of hobo dinners and Williamsburg Orange Cake. It was a late birthday celebration since my parents couldn't come to town till Friday. Hobo dinners are hamburger patties with carrots, celery and potatoes sealed in tinfoil and grilled. It's my traditional birthday dinner, courtesy of dad. It's a good thing my birthday is in the summer. I would feel guilty watching him barbecue in the snow. Williamsburg Orange Cake is a recent birthday tradition in our family. It always comes courtesy of #1 Sister--except on her birthday when #2 Sister takes over.


I cut the cake.

Guess whose piece that is??
















Dad, Grandma and #2 Sister's boyfriend are all good storytellers, so it made for some good table talk. I love hearing about the mischief they got into when they were little. Come to think of it, they were all little red-headed kids. There's nothing cuter than the mental image of a little redheaded mischief-maker.

I love my family.

The Best Way to End the Day

Okay, so it's a little late, but afterall, I couldn't just leave you hanging, could I?

Thursday, June 30, 2005

11:30pm-3pm ish Blog posting. Cutest e-card from the cutest aunt ever. Nap-ish. Clean-ish.
4:30 pm #2 Sister calls to say she'll be at my apartment in 8 minutes and to watch for her walking over the H Bridge so I can meet her downstairs.
4:35 pm Supermom calls to wish me a happy birthday. She had tried earlier, but I was out galavanting. I try to change clothes while talking on the phone and tell Supermom that #2 Sister is on her way.
4:37 pm Superdad wants to wish me happy birthday too. He asks if I prefer the musical or spoken version. I leave the choice with him and get the spoken version.
4:37:30 pm Supermom has one last thing to add:

"Oh...really really quick...Tell [#1 Sister] that I met Mrs. H's cabinet maker. He's tall and beautiful and Russian and he escaped from the KGB. So, if there's a lull in the conversation, you can talk about that"

4:39 pm I don't see #2 Sister crossing the bridge, so I just go downstairs. She is engaged (perhaps trapped) in conversation. Introductions, birthday wishes, sunglasses fall apart in my hands.
4:42 pm Finally leave when #2 Sister gets trapped in yet another conversation. (She's a local celebrity).
5:05 pm Reach #2 Sister's house at the time we are to meet #1 Sister at The Birthday Place*.
5:15 pm Leave #2 Sister's house. Get stuck in construction traffic.
5:35 pm Arrive at The Birthday Place to hear #1 Sister declare, "Where have you guys been?!"
Apologies. Cutest birthday gift ever from #1 Sister**. Oohs, aahs, smiles and hearty gratitude.
6:00 pm Give #1 Sister mom's message. She is not amused.
6:10 pm Best pizza ever.


Rocket said I should have a birthday picture of myself on here. Here's us at The Birthday Place. (L to R: #2 Sister, me, #1 Sister)

6:40 pm Go with #2 Sister to visit little old friend in the hospital.
6:45 pm See Fella driving, but he doesn't see me. He looks very happy and it makes me very happy.
7:40 pm Walk by LaFalda in her darkened booth.
8:00 pm Ice cream with #2 Sister around the corner from my apartment. She drops her cone but eats it anyway.
8:30 pm Work. Huge bouquet of roses in the office when I get there. The Big Secret leaks out.
9:00 pm Surprise cake and birthday song from Sweetie Guest. Strangest but greatest birthday party with whoever wanders in the house kitchen.
11:00 pm Birthday visit from LaFalda.
11:15 pm Greatest ocarina birthday serenade from Sweetie Guest's Cutie Son.
11:20 pm Much needed conversation with my old friend and cousin, LaFalda. Just 'cuz.

Hooray! God, friends and life never cease to blow me away. Happy Birthday to me, indeed.

*In my family, birthdays are just an excuse to go to The Birthday Place, aka Tower Pizza. It's the best pizza ever. (Get the wheat crust). Just don't ask Fella or LaFalda because they are crazy. Fella eats ketchup on his mac-n-cheese, but hot dogs and mac-n-cheese make him cry. LaFalda hates chocolate. I just don't think we can trust their food judgments.



**Tell me if this is not the cutest thing you've ever seen. For some reason, I have a reputation for loving all things pink, poodly, Eiffel Tower-y and foofy. What can I say?

The Best Way to Start the Day

Thanks for the birthday wishes, everyone. Here's my day so far.

5:30 am Woke up at work
5:45 am Got ready for work...at work
6:20 am Got the paper. Turned off the porch lights. Started the dishwasher.
6:30 am Drank morning tea. Recalled dreams. Contemplated future meals.
7:00 am Faced the breakfast crowd--a lively group from whom I thankfully managed to keep The Big Secret.
8:30 am Birthday wishes from Wonderboss. Officially off work.
8:45 am Breakfast destination suggested by me, chosen by LaFalda and phoned in to the Rocket household.
9:00 am Accidental birthday wishes from random strangers at neighboring tables.
9:10 am Intentional birthday wishes from a sassy waitress.
9:15 am Two plus hours of giant cinnamon rolls (though I have to say I've seen bigger), two and three egg omelette controversies, ketchup floods, and the best darn conversation in the West. (For proof, just check out LaFalda's quote book--something about cysts tasting better than you'd think and young looking 60 year olds being mighty expensive).


(L to R: LaFalda, Rocket and P.)

This picture looks like poo. I mean the picture quality, not the subjects, of course. You can click on it to make it look better. Really, how many things can you say that about? I wish you could do that with mirrors sometimes. Notice the giant griz paw/claw behind LaFalda's head? In Missoula, that equals classy joint. You may recognize the guy on the right from the Dating Game. Or you may not, and that would probably make him happy.

My Life on the D.L.

...is back on the D.L..

The Challenge

This post is in response to a Friday night challenge from my friend Rocket. These faces belong to some people we know, but the names have been withheld to protect my innocence.

Rocket, I hope you're satisfied...I hope you got my back if any of these people come to hunt me down.



This here, as you can see, is The Ultimate Challenge. I must say, I'm rather pleased with the results. Can you tell who it is?



This could turn out to be quite a game! I think I just might use The Portrait Illustration Maker to make a challenge face every week. Then you all can guess who it's supposed to be. Ooh, thanks, Rocket!

Blessed

Thanks for being so supportive on the whole age-assault thing, everyone. I'm getting along just fine without my striped shirt and vagabond cyclist. In my haste to invite you all to my pity party, I forgot to mention some really good things about that morning. The first thing is that my bird is back!!! He's been trying to tease me by having his friends perch in his spot, and then he'll either be hiding behind them or fly up at the last minute for a quick 'hello'. People driving by must think I'm nutty for beaming so widely at 8:30ish am. I'll try to hold off on the talking for now.

The second good thing that morning--really awesome, special, sweet thing--was that, as I was getting ready to leave work, one of our guests approached my boss and I with a bundle in hand. She's Mexican, I believe, and doesn't speak very much English. When she got close, she smiled and opened her arms to reveal two ponchos that she had crocheted while sitting in her son's hospital room. So beautiful (the thought, the gift AND her)! I am still blown away. Here she is, in the middle of nowhere, under some of the worst circumstances possible, and she is actively seeking to bless us. It's truly humbling. I think of all the times that I say to myself, "Oh, I should do such and such for so and so" and I let it go at that. I'm either too "tired", or "busy", or "broke", or "shy" or afraid it won't be good enough, or won't be well received. I hate it! Good intentions be damned! I mean that quite literally. I want to live and love and not look back!

Okay, soapbox dismounted. More from me later...

Happy Birthday, Twin (LaFalda)!!

This should make you feel young. I look like your proud mama!

P.S. I love you, too!!!

I Scream, You Scream

Do you like my volunteer badge? It's not half as cool as Lance's nerd badge.

It's high time for a new post. There hasn't been much to write about, but I guess that never stopped me before. Yesterday was fairly eventful (by my standards). Every third Tuesday of the month (starting yesterday), the new(ish) ice cream place in town is donating 30% of proceeds between 4 and 7 to the house where I work. The owners visited the house, fell in love with it and the work we do, and scheduled fundraisers for the rest of the year. Hot Dog! So anyway, my boss, our on-call girl, 2 volunteers, a secretary, a board member, a doctor and I showed up for the event. I'm really bad at those kinds of things (ice cream socializing), but it was nice to get to know "the team" better since we don't see each other much...Especially our newer on-call girl. She's a dollie. But then again, I think all Virginians are dollies. Something about the non-Southern ("country") way they say y'all--especially when trying not to. Our on-call girl did face painting (on herself, my boss, and one kid) and I handed out stickers (to myself and two kids). The helium balloons were, of course, a team effort. (I did not inhale). On one occasion, I was called upon to chase down some runaway balloons and I saw Fella's roommate who pretended not to see me (okay maybe it was genuine, but I couldn't blame him if it weren't). So anyway, big fun had by few. Next time maybe I'll see the rest of you there. Y'all can have your faces painted and if you're real nice-like, I'll let you pick out your own sticker.

I told you there wasn't much happening. Oh, BUT WAIT! Tell me if this is not the most brutal story you've heard today. I was walking home from work yesterday morning and I came to a stoplight. I was just standing there waiting for it to change colors when I hear this sultry sounding, "Hey. Were you the girl in the striped shirt last night?". I looked over to see this slightly vagabondish fellow on a bike with his eyebrows raised in my direction. As soon as I turned to him, the eyebrows lowered into more of a furrow and he said, "Oh. You're too old." Then there was a "Well...no...???...hmm..." while he sat there reevaluating me and his words. So yeah, not exactly the words a girl likes to hear when she's on the verge of putting another year under her already tight belt. The worst part is that he had to be at least 45. Shizzouch. That's what I say.

Rainy Day View

My apologies for the rain, everyone. It's all my fault. I jinxed it the other day when I was crossing the H bridge and thinking "Summer is officially here and with it the bug battered pucker I deserve for wearing lipgloss near water at dusk".

It used to be (and by "used to be" I mean 3 days ago) that every morning when walking home from work, I would come to a certain point on the H bridge and a chubby little bird would be sitting there waiting for me. As soon as I got near, he would fly off, but he would always wait until I saw him first. I recently began to take greater notice of him. I decided I would keep a bread crumb in my pocket so we could be friends. He doesn't come anymore. I guess he preferred distance to friendship and a passing glance to a linty pocket crumb.

Story of my life.

Hip Additions

I'm glad to see you're all as crazy for the Portrait Illustration Maker as I am. Welcome these new additions to our hip and happy family.



Reading clockwise, we have: Rocket, the new kid on the blog--well, my blog anyway, my sleepy friend Pal, who is not an official blog member (YET!), but pops in on Knit 'N Play from time to time, Japanijustin The Artist and frequent commenter and Boy, who should be making his first appearance on freelance poedry any day now. Hooray!

Incidentally, I am only responsible for the Rocket and Pal creations. Boy and Justin made their own, which I stole. Rocket, I'm just going off of your profile picture and my regrettably limited knowledge of you. Pal, we'll talk later. That's supposed to be bedhair, not windmill hair. Don't ask me why you're waking up in Holland.

Happy Birthday, Ken-Doll!

Twinkle Twinkle punk-rockstar
Wonder how the heck you are
Up above my world so high
It's a wonder I don't cry

Twinkle Twinkle punk-rockstar
Happy Birthday from afar

Happy Birthday, lost and found Ken-Doll!

From: Your dorky friend in the West who is extremely sorry for the incredibly poor likeness she made of you while working and wishing that you were there to toast cocoa dreams and melt magic candy canes with her. Love ya. Miss ya.

One Hip Family

Have you ever wondered what we would look like as Japanimation characters? I know I have.




Well, enter the Portrait Illustration Maker. It's the coolest thing since mug shots and infinitely hipper than the National Geographic Channel's Face Generator*. (It is Asian, afterall). It's worth it just to scroll over the images and read the cutely distorted English (for instance, the ever popular "baldness father" and "splashes the top primly" hairstyles). I think you may even be able to use the images as your cellphone background...but I wouldn't really know.


*Slightly more believable but not nearly as hip, I'm thinking of using this guy as my backup-plan-emergency-only-decoy-husband.

Mug Shots

Have you seen this man?




Is it just me or does he bear a striking to resemblance to Boy in his high-school years? Suspicious. Okay, I'll confess. It's my day off and I spent it finding more fun timewasters for all of you. This one is pretty cool. It creates police-like sketches by allowing you to select and alter various facial features. The tagline for the website is: "An online facility which helps you to remember somebody's face", but I'll let you be the judge. Bear witness to the following desparate criminals:

Fella (in training season), Fella (out of training season)
Tot the Folk Rocker, Rasta Tot and New Wave Tot
Señor Ed

My apologies to Fella and Tot. I can only imagine how you must feel about me right now. Something like this, perhaps? Well, don't blame me. I guess you guys just don't have the faces for criminal activity.

(Oh, and apparently this site is geared strictly toward committing male faces to "memory", which is why Tot and I are repeatedly shown in drag. I am not trying to make a statement about the inability of women to commit desperate crimes.)

Public Enema Number Two

Okay, first off, I apologize for that title. You can take it as a warning, since this post is only going to go downhill from there. Last night at work, one of our little old guests got really stopped up and sick. I was going to have to walk to the grocery store nearby to purchase said product and I was trying to figure out where the most prominent place to wear my badge would be so that the checkers would know it wasn't for me. I guess it's lucky I ended the tiny crush I had on that one checker...or rather, Boy ended it for me when he told me he once witnessed this checker chasing a cat with apparent intent to harm. I don't really like cats. I only liked this guy because he seemed like someone who never got angry. Anyway, I never ended up having to go to the store, thank goodness, but all night long it made me think about something...

Does it ever seem to anyone else like life is just deliberately cruel sometimes? I'm not talking tragedy here. I can understand how we learn and grow from life's hardships. I'm talking about random, senseless cruelty...like an old man with embarrassing bowel troubles needing to ask a young girl for help...or like the time when Twin and I were innocently sitting outside our building and an old professor-ly looking fellow came up to us and said, "They've got some nice antiques in that window", and proceeded to expose us to umm...his antique. I mean...Come on. What purpose do those things serve? It seems to me like they have no other design than to humiliate or degrade. I don't know. Maybe it's only that I can't see the whole picture. Maybe God wanted me to show that old man that I cared (I'm speaking about the first one--the stopped up one--of course). Maybe the policeman who responded to Twin and my frantic call about Professor Pervert just needed a good belly laugh. Maybe it's just that we live in a fallen world.

First Grade Legends

Can you find me? I'd offer a prize but I don't think it's too much of a challenge. Just look for the saddest, most frightened looking one. Can you find anyone else you know in there?

• #2 was my neighbor. He taught me to play baseball.
• #3 worked in the hospital kitchen with Twin, Fella, Tot and I.
• #4 never had a name. I just called him Wolf-Boy. Teachers used to make me sit next to him because they said I was a peacemaker.
• #5 made fun of me when I was learning to ride a bike. He said he learned to ride when he was 2...without training wheels.
• #8 was later reunited with me in high school. He claimed I liked him in first grade because I let him use my fat crayon.
• #10 liked to kiss girls. I think he was German.
• #13 signed my cast when I broke my arm tightroping the fence. I thought I was soo cool.
• #15 was my very first love. He called me an a**hole and I refused to eat for weeks. My mom was really worried.
• #16 had a swimming pool at her house. She used to vacation at beaches and bring back seashells for us. She told us to take our vitamins every day. One time we had a substitute teacher and I was too scared to ask to use the bathroom so I peed at my desk and they had to call my mom to pick me up.
• #18 just graduated with Tot. I heard he used to pee on his bathroom walls.

The Unveiling

I have been so inspired by the feedback I've received from my recent attempts to cheer up Blogworld that I have decided to open wide the doors to the secret funhouse of my mind. I want all of you, my nearest and dearest, to be the first to enter. There are a few things you should know before taking the plunge. (1) It is still, and will always be, in various stages of construction. Tread lightly upon those boards and don't look too deeply into those mirrors. (2) Funhouses can be frightening. I recommend bringing a friend or singing outloud. (3) Don't believe everything you see. Just try to find the humor in it with me.

Please direct all comments to ed. For any questions or concerns, see this guy, who once told me I should be a writer and that I am just the person to spread a little blogshine, or this guy, whose own funhouse (aka portfolio) inspired mine.
Thanks...and enjoy!

Ready, set, GO!

Re: Miss America Fan Mail

Justin: Imagine no longer.

Tot: Don't worry about the world catching a glimpse of these photos. Knit 'N Play's readership is as limited as the shelf life of these photos. Rest assured that they will be promptly removed once their cheering-up duties have been completed. I happen to know that you could do some serious damage in the payback department (M-U-L-L-E-T) and I am eager to steer clear of your bad list.

Miss Americas

Well, since I've been in a blog-slump, I thought I'd start up where I left off with my countdown to Tot's departure. No. I didn't run out of reasons to miss her after Day Two. I just preferred to spend the time making more reasons to miss her. So here goes...

Day Three (plus 22): We will miss...Beauty pageant parties complete with Dorito-eating contests and fights for the crown.


(L to R: Tot, Twin, #1 Sister et moi)

You know the expression "I've got money burning a hole in my pocket". Yeah, me neither. But I do have a certain Miss Universe recording burning a hole in my VCR. #1 Sister and I made a pact not to watch it without each other, which means we'll have to wait until the weekend. It's killing us...but not as much as the fact that Tot isn't here to make a real party of it.

Just Call Me Grandma

Yeah, me too. I'm in a slump--blog-wise, project-wise, life-wise...I think it may have something to do with the fact that everyone's gone. Twin, Boy (temporary), Tot, Pal (permanent--or so they think, gosh darnit) and pretty much everyone I meet, 'cause that's my job. Speaking of my job...

My last weekend shift was so so nice. I couldn't have asked for a better one. Old friends returning. New ones made. Each night I had someone wanting to stay up past midnight to chat...So I think I left that shift on a signature ed note. The first night I visited with my old friend K., a frequent house guest with her husband, P. Do you ever come across people in your life who just get you? For me, it's pretty rare. She's in her late 50's, I'm guessin', but I get her too. We have so many interests in common. I found out the next night that this is because I have the hobbies of a "grandma"...or so said the gentleman I was visiting with. When asked the dreaded "What do you do in your free time" question (second only to the dreaded "What kind of music do you like" question), I explained that I like to do homey-girly things like sew and knit. "And do crossword puzzles? You mean grandma things?" was his response. Hey, if that makes me a grandma, then that's cool. I'm only sorry I didn't get a chance at that Scrabble challenge, N. You'd be sorry you cracked wise about The Grandma.

Say, incidentally...I finished the hail-dance costume with much less drama than expected. I didn't get to try it on her one last time, though, and they are off to NJ today. If anyone is in the area, it might be the show of the century. Ripping seams, flying jewels, static cling and fling. That's what I call a hailstorm. Hopefully they will give me pictures to post.

All right. I'm out. I must make my days productive since I actually have to work at night now.

Countdown to a Normal Life

I'm heading in for my last weekend shift at work. Hooray! I've been promoted...sort of.

A few celebratory Bad Libs before I hit the road...

Lost and Found

LOST: A solid-gold tinker toy with a tragically carved wooden devastation hanging from it. Reward of 50 Peeps for the return of this dusty heirloom.

Instructions for the Baby Sitter

The baby gets his warm spittle around six o'clock. If the baby starts to stutter in his deep voice, be sure to change his diaper before you put him back in his buttpatter. If you have any winsome questions or fragile problems, please page us on our male ego. Good luck!

Happy Weekend, All! I know I'm pumped!

THE END of My Love Life

Bo lost American Idol. Boo for Bo. And for me. Boo Hiss.

My friend brought her daughter over this evening for the hail-suit fitting. It looked much better than I expected, but there will have to be some adjustments made. I don't think that will be too rough, but the material looks like it could be a nightmare. Must. Get. Motivated.

I don't know why it is, but every time I'm working on a project where I'm up against a deadline, I say to myself, "Oh...When this is over...I'm totally gonna make something for myself", but I never do. Odd, because each time I sew/knit, etc. I remember how much I love it. If nothing else, you'd think I'd feel the need to live up to my blogname. (There's probably some ANGRY knitters out there who have disappointedly stumbled across my non-project related rantings).
All play and no knit makes ed a LOSER! Just kidding...about the all play part, that is. Anywho.

Here's my 'M' tale of the day. Last Wednesday I went for my hike and as I got toward the end, I could hear someone coming up behind me. I paused and scooted to let them pass. He apologized and then proceeded to engage in a conversation which ended in asking me out to lunch. Luckily, I already had a previous engagement with Fella. (I Freudianslippedly called it a "date" which sent The Passer running). I'm not saying "luckily" to be mean. He seemed like a nice guy and I think I was nice back. I just don't know how not to panic in those situations. (And yes, I am being rather liberal with the plural usage of the word). Besides, thinking back on it, The Passer followed behind me for who knows how long, but when he actually got beside me and was talking to me, he never once looked at my face. Basically his opinion of me was 90% backside and 10% voice. As I told my mom and Fella...Nice to know that my heinie can get a date, even if the rest of me can't. I don't know whether I should be flattered or insulted. So, I guess I'm neither. As I was thinking these things over on my way back home, I wondered if I'd have to worry about seeing him again. Then I said to myself, "Well. At least I know he wouldn't recognize my face!" when who do you think comes running toward me? Point proven. No sign of recognition...Or maybe he was just embarrassed. I guess I'll never know...At least, not until the next sighting. One of these days he's gonna see me comin' and he'll think to himself, "Hmm...She seems familiar". Then, after I've passed and I'm walking away, he'll turn around and say "Ohhh Yeahhh...NOW I know who she is". THE END. (No pun intended).

Monday vs. Tuesday

Dad says you can't say you've climbed the 'M' until you've CLIMBED THE 'M'. So, when he joined me on my late morning trek on Monday, he made sure we slippered our way up the giant letter. It was worth it to be able to enjoy a rare long uninterrupted chat...Well, that is, if you don't count the rowdies down below us. Incidentally, can I just say that I had forgotten how brutal childhood and growing up can be? It's a wonder any of us ever survived. Hmm...I think that statement officially makes me old. Anyway, I know I wouldn't have survived without my parents. I was thankful for the chance to spend some time with them away from work! (They usually come on the weekends). I got to have a nice long chat with my Momma too. We had lunch at FFT (they sell my favoritest food item in the entirest universe) and I saw cuchillo and Rocket who gave me an update on Twin and company. Neat! My mom and I went to B&N to look at nerdy computer books and then my Gramma made dinner. It doesn't get any better than that!

Today was a little less...um...nice. Not bad, but it's midnight and I have yet to leave the house. I spent the whole day watching Freaks and Geeks while sewing, unsewing and resewing a costume for my friend's daughter's senior dance recital in New Jersey. She's supposed to be hail...and no, not covered in cotton balls hail. Pretty interpretive flowy hail. I hope she doesn't mind looking like pregnant hail. This thing looks HUGE! I also (re)realized that I have peanut butter issues. I bought a jar last night and already I touched bottom. I thought I could control myself if it was au naturel. Au contraire, mon frère, Pierre.

G'nighty tighty whitey.

Golden Boys

Well, here I am after a loong weekend at work. This time around it felt sort of like living with the Golden Girls...if they were 15 years older, male and temporarily made single by the fact that their wives were in the hospital. On Friday night, I got trapped in the office when two of the Golden Boys entered a lively kitchen table discussion on life, or the disappearance thereof. Sitting there, trying not to listen too closely, a poem fell off my pen. (I prefer to call it a song that I can't sing). It goes a little something like this...

I came upon a table set
By someone else's fate
And two old friends
At two dead ends
For whom time wouldn't wait...

It is much longer of course, but I'll spare you since I was in there for hours. It was strangely fun, though. One of the old men (the uncomfortably frisky one...I guess that'd be Blanche) said that if he had it to do over again, he'd never marry. Then, when he went to check out of his room, he asked if I could (help) make the bed for him. Does anyone else see the irony in that? Well, it made me chuckle. And of course I made the bed...after he was safely gone. Well, that's the life and times of ed...and this makes it all worthwhile!

R-Rated Pictionary

As a general rule, I try to keep my blog G-Rated, but I just couldn't resist posting the fruits of last night's accidentally dirty pictionary game. These are two different takes on the word penthouse: mine (left) and #1 Sister's (right). After both failing to draw an actual penthouse (we don't really have any in Montana...unless maybe you count the top floors of the Wilma or Millenium Buildings), we resorted to drawing the other Penthouse. S. (cuchillo's wife) managed to get it right, thanks in no part to my drawing, and both drawings were passed around to much disturbed delight. Incidentally...everyone was creeped out by my "dirty old man" enjoying his read (to which I protested that he's not old, I just didn't have time to draw hair), but COME ON...my sister's drawing is waaay the heck sicker. SICK!

Vintage Montagnes

Boy finished the raspberry mead today. Looks pretty jazzy, eh? I like to think I played a role in the making...perhaps in the publicity department (who could forget the hamburger floaties stunt?). Anyway, it was enough to score me a free bottle which I intend to save long enough so that I can whip it out in discerning company and say "Ah, 2005. That was a good year." Maybe if you're really nice, Boy will give you some from his cellar (aka bookshelf in his apartment).

Google Talk

I put this thing at the bottom of my page. It's kind of fun to play with. You just start a sentence with three or four words and it finishes it for you. Sometimes it just goes on and on and on. I think what it does is search the words you put in and generates words to follow and then keeps removing the first word searched, etc. Actually, I'm not sure, you could probably ask cuchillo. He's the technical whiz. I just think it's funny.

I tried typing in my friends' names followed by "is" with mediocre results (Fella is a very nice guy and I have a dream that this nation will rise up and walk around the Moscow Kremlin), but my favorite use for it is as a funny fortune teller. Here goes...(my words in pink)

1. The man for me is a way of life for the elderly and disabled. The question is whether the government has a right to children.
2. My boyfriend is a twat. He is a man of his word by his spirit-the spirit of the West Indies.
3. My husband is a big fat stupid white man.

Well, have fun all. I hope your futures look as blindingly bright as mine!

Live from Slovakia: Twin and Scott

Everyone needs to check out this audioblog that cuchillo put together for the Chi Alpha missions trip to Slovakia. It even has a link to a slideshow! Way cool! I can't wait to read/hear(see?) all the latest news!

Trying to Run

I suppose it's just the nature of my work or perhaps the nature of me, but in my life, it seems that people come and go but seldom stay. You may remember this post, where I likened my life to a bus station. I have to say that I tend to resent this, and more often than not, take it personally. You start to wonder if there's something wrong with you--if you chase people away. In any case, I am learning to see that life is a path we walk along (or rather, a race we run) and that sometimes we are just blessed to have others share a little piece of the road with us. Until now, I guess I viewed life as a rollercoaster and I would try to pick one friend to be stuck with in all the ups and downs. The trouble with this is that roller coasters don't really go anywhere. And lets face it, a lifetime of carnival rides? No wonder I always felt a little queasy at heart. My personal challenge is to love every person who comes along, but not hold on so tightly that I keep them (and myself) from the race.

On that note, I'd just like to mention that I did receive an answer to the Letter to a Long Lost Friend. I love that kid. I wish I could keep him in my life forever but I know he's got to get on. I suppose that I do too. I'm just so lucky that he walked beside me for a moment. I hope our paths will cross again--next time under happier circumstances. Take care, K-Bar. If the road ever gets too long or lonely, just yell my name. I'll find you.

Soundtrack of a Goodbye

It seems I may finally get around to that To-Do list afterall...well, the last item anyway. I just said good-bye to Tot and as I write, we are having a synchronized listening of the Goodbye CD that we made for her. Right now it's still in the funny 80's songs (ie Cruel Summer), but I know that when tracks 15-17 (17 being cuchillo's pick) come, the tears are gonna fall.

Tot, in the immortal words of the Waterboys...I will (and do) cry when you (ye) go away.

I love you.

My Cup of Tea

I've taken up my morning 'M' climbing again. It's such a great way to clear the head. Well, maybe clear isn't the right word for me (instead of the hamster on the wheel, I've got Robin Williams with the cameras rolling). Perhaps 'stir' is a better word. Yes, hiking is a great way to stir the head. You wouldn't believe some of the mental cocktails my creative juices can mix. Never fear, I'm sure I will be posting lots of them. Today, however, I want to share something less random. You can call it the tea that brews only in hot water and forces us to pause and sip...if you are so inclined. Lately I've been stressing about where and what I'm supposed to be. I guess I've sort of been reminding God that the clock is ticking and I ain't gettin' any younger (to which He would probably respond...'Whose clock?'...if I gave Him the chance). Following the zigzag trail up the mountain, looking down at my feet, I pleaded for direction (step-by-step instructions would be nice) for myself as well as my friends. When I got to the 'M' I looked up from my feet. As I stood there, overlooking the city, I was reminded how much bigger life is than any one of us and how many different paths we take on our way through. Then out of somewhere/nowhere/everywhere, my worry's answer came: 'You're asking to see My footsteps. I want to show you My face.'

It's astounding really, this relationship we're invited into. So often we dismiss it as religion or rules to live by (that often seem to cramp our style), but the offer is for so much more. If we keep our eyes on the ground, always looking for God's footsteps, we will miss the love in His face and the beauty all around us. But if we keep our eyes on Him, always looking to His face, there's no way we'll miss that path He has for us. We will walk it together.

Ants and other Significants

Goodness! It's 3:30 am! I really should go to bed since we are having a farewell-Tot breakfast at 8am tomorrow. I actually just came back from a farewell-Tot Happy Hour (translation: mud pie and raspberry lemonade). It was so much fun. I hope she enjoyed it as much as we all did.

This weekend at work I played den mother to a bunch of characters. I knew things would be interesting when the first person I met said that mine was a good job because it allowed me the "perk" of bringing a significant other to stay overnight. I have no idea where she got that from. If by "significant other" she meant one in the endless parade of stuffed animals that get donated to the house then, you know, true that. Funnily enough, it could very well be this job and its perceived perks that keeps me out of the realm of others, significant or otherwise. Well, that and the fact that I'm mean and nasty. Other characters included James Earl Jones' voice double and Tom Selleck's aged-face double. I know I can't pick favorites, but the latter was way up there. I'll tell a little story about him later when I'm not so tired.

Here's a sad little story, though. Another of our guests discovered a giant ant colony out by the garbage bins. She pointed it out to me and asked if she could borrow some bleach to take care of the problem. We sprinkled some in the sidewalk cracks and near the nest. Almost instantly, the ants started workin' the grapevine and scattering themselves out; but when I came back to take out the trash it was a sad sight indeed. Just two little ants surveying the massacre. I watched them walking among their dead and imagined them getting a body count. I felt sorry for them and a little guilty, so I stepped on them to end their pain. THE END.

Good night, everyone. Good morning, as it were. I'd better sleep now so I can get back to Friday the 13th's To Do list.

Re: Friday the 13th

You know you're having a crap day when you've got a to-do list a mile long and the last thing on it is 'cry your eyes out'. Ah well. Perhaps I'll get around to it someday. Back to work now.

Movie Night

Day Two: We will miss...$4 movie night at the Wilma...even if one of us should've gotten in free...



Tonight I went with Tot and Twin to see Born into Brothels at our pretty (if rundown) Wilma theater. I almost didn't go because I was being a lazyhead and it seemed like it could be a downer. I am sooo glad I went! That movie was so...well...moving. I don't usually cry at movies (unless I'm by myself and feeling sappy), but I just fell in love with those kids. It breaks my heart to think of all the opportunities I take for granted (and waste) that they would probably give an arm for. It inspired me to the point of desperation. I also love the fact that the filmmaker set out to document a horrible life but refused to leave it the way she found it. Isn't that the way it should be? I want to leave my piece of the world better than when I found it.

Photo Shoot

Day One: We will miss...car-singing to our heart's content...road trips to little worlds found only in Montana...capturing our souls on film...making DQ runs in the pouring rain...

In just one week, our darling friend Tot will be trading the big skies of Montana for the rainy ones of Oregon. This week is officially dedicated to exploring the many reasons why we will miss her (and vice versa, we hope). This evening we went on a photo shoot to Lolo, a "suburb" of Missoula, which was somewhat appropriate since Tot and Twin each spent some time growing up there. I guess #1 Sister and I did too if you count all the time we spent playing Mad Libs, listening to the Monkees, remaking Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, giving each other miracle cure apricot face scrubs and building wilderness houses near the abandoned household appliances in the forest by Twin's house.

Here we all are looking longingly in the window of the restaurant that Twin has cleverly dubbed the China Barn. It used to be this family restaurant that always had signs like "Come in and eat. Grandkids need braces." Now it's all painted to "match" the scenery and has been converted to serve Chinese food, which is apparently pretty good. Who knew?

Happy Mother's Day?

Happy Grab-the-Nearest-Child-You-Can-Find-and-Head-to-Dairy-Queen-to-Make-Them-Believe-You're-a-Mother-and-Get-a-Free-Sundae Day!! Oops. Did I say that outloud? No, I'm only kidding, of course...a small sundae would NEVER fill me up!

But seriously kids. It is the day for honoring the people who made our lives possible, and apparently in my family this means letting them prepare a big meal for us all. Shoot, I wasn't even there and I reaped the benefits via mom's curbside delivery. (Before you go thinking I'm the worst daughter ever, can I at least say in my defense that I had to work?)

So...Mom, Grandma and mothers at large, I hope somewhere in all of this you were blessed. If not, you can always cling to the hope that, in a very distant (and in my poor mom's case, perhaps not so inevitable) someday, the ancient curse, "I hope your kids are just like you" will come true. I love you bunches!

May Day II - I'm Not Crazy

All right, critics (myself included). I totally did NOT make this up. May Day is a real holiday--and a pretty serious one at that--which is odd since we always celebrated it this way. I guess my 2nd grade teacher was Irish. Actually, come to think of it, she probably just didn't want to say "Good Morning, kids. Today we celebrate International Stick It To The Man For Screwing Us Over Day. Now, who wants to go outside and protest?". Well, in any case, I like the anonymous flower giving idea. And heck, it beats World Phone In Sick Day (also May 1st). What kind of message would that have sent to the kiddies?

Hey, did you know that it is generally believed that the distress signal "Mayday! Mayday!" is derived from the French expression venez m'aider which means "come help me"? Let's think about this. I mean, granted, "Mayday! Mayday!" might sound better in distress than "HELP! HELP!", but I think that if I were in imminent danger these days, I probably wouldn't go straight to the French for help.

Sorry, mes amis. I love you AND the Statue of Liberty you gave us, but we're all pretty certain you hate our big American guts.

May Day

It's weird to think that as I go to work tonight, it's April, but when I get off it will be May. So, happy May Day everyone! I wish I could put flowers on all your doorsteps, ring your doorbells and run away. I guess I'll have to post this picture instead.

Tot bought me these flowers 2 weeks ago and they're still hangin' on! Crazy!

Room With a View

Did you all catch that sunset last night?

Shopping Woes

Boy and I went to Super Wal-Mart today. He desperately needed to pick up the World Poker Tour on DVD and I had been promising M.E. that I would buy some toilet paper for work. I think that store must be strategically designed to get you lost and make you forget what it was that you needed. I know those big aisle markers are supposed to help and all, but come on, who calls it "bath tissue"? Then they stash it in the total opposite corner from all the other bathroom supplies--way back with the orange juice and cheese. I guess that makes a fair amount of twisted sense, but personally I think it's done so you have to walk by all those other things you forgot that you needed--like tootsie rolls and onesies. Anyway, at one point, Boy and I got separated and when I found him again, he was pointing gape-mouthed toward a display. When I fixed my eyes on the object of his attention, I saw shelves of hydrocortisone cream with a handwritten sign reading, "GOT RASH?". Beautiful.

So, sometimes getting separated from your shopping partner in the jungles of Wal-Mart is a good thing...but one time Fella and I got separated in the old Wal-Mart and missed the bus twice and his brother had to come pick us up because the Corsica was out of order and WOW...It's the closest I'd ever seen him come to being downright angry. Fear the Red Fury...that's all I'm sayin'...Incidentally...Boy never did find his DVD...and does anyone know where the heck they hide the non-Chapstick chapstick in that store?

Letter to a Long Lost Friend

Dear Long Lost Friend,

I know I promised myself that I would stop writing to you, but when, in my online wanderings, I stumble upon those words which echo in my head and remind me of a friendship lost, how can I not respond? Besides, you yourself made the challenge (although perhaps not to me) to be more honest and carefree in ourselves like children who don't know enough to care what others think is cool. I'm tired of holding back when that voice inside says, "Stop now, before you make a fool of yourself". Whose voice is that anyway? Whoever it is must be friendless and bitter and crippled from fear. If we could see it, would we ever listen to it? I lost too many people I loved last year to waste any more time on that voice. I'm so thankful for the chances I had to love them, but man, if I could go back, I'd say and do so much more. So what about now? What about you? (That pesky voice is at it again, but I have temporarily silenced it with the thought that you will probably never read this anyway). So, brace yourself. I'm about to go Hallmark...

I want you to know how special you are to me. Not because you have aspirations toward fame, and I have your autograph (ha!) and not just because you happened to come along when my world was turning upside down, but because there is a depth and intensity to you that's so rare. Ironically, those qualities you say you lack--honesty and the ability to move people--are the very ones I admired in you. Maybe it's the loss of those qualities which concerns you. If so, then it concerns me too.

There's another quality, however, which I can tell by your words that you haven't lost: a curiosity toward life..an eagerness to know and understand it. You made it easy to stay up late chasing random thoughts and dreams...even when the buttcrack of dawn loomed large. You had this strange mix of innocence and worldy wisdom which I've yet to find twice. Others might possess one and imitate the other, but with you it seemed genuine..and honest. I would so hate to see you force ignorance upon yourself in the name of "true love" and bliss. I can see why you might argue that knowledge (and the neverending pursuit thereof) takes us further away from the ability to move and be moved by others, but I think this is only true when learning ceases to be the means to an end and becomes the end itself. If you're simply hoarding knowledge for knowledge's sake, then you're right, it's useless. If, on the other hand, your pursuit of knowledge stems from passion, then it seems it could only enhance your ability to move others. Maybe knowledge is only useful in so far as it affects the heart. Maybe learning is just the way we feed our lives and too much unexercised knowledge just makes our minds fat. Maybe some people numb themselves with knowledge buffets and develop mental eating disorders that mask a deeper problem. Maybe these food analogies are just a result of me being hungry...

I don't know what I hope to accomplish by saying all of this, but it's been on my mind for a long long time and things keep coming up which remind me. Maybe there's hope in knowing what you meant to me--a practical stranger. Maybe if I can just make you see that there is love in your life that will always be there--of family and friends and practical strangers...of a God you may or may not believe in--then it would free you up to take the risks that living honestly requires. Maybe kids are more apt to take these risks because they trust in the love that they have--love which doesn't depend on image or first impressions..which doesn't threaten rejection..which they know will still be there at the end of the day. I don't know. Maybe kids just don't know what looking foolish really looks like. But do any of us...really? This everyday love is what makes us complete and teaches us who we are. If you can accept and develop it, then you'll be ready to take a risk when true love comes along. Of course, I'm only guessing here because I've yet to find it, but I think that true love begins where the need for it leaves off. Necessity leaves little room for choice and the "love" it produces is at best gratitude and at worst resentment (not unlike the "machine love" you spoke of).

Well K-Doll, that's all I've got for now. Except another attempt to say good-bye. You're loved and missed and even though you've heard it a thousand times, I'm here for you (albeit a few thousand miles away). Love to dad and grandma as well.

E

P.S. If I may be allowed to wax Dr. Phil (hmm)...Determine what really matters to you and chase after it. Spreading yourself thin is okay at times, but don't give the world a watered-down you...Oh, and I was only requesting to "wax Dr. Phil" the way one requests permission to "wax poetic". I'm just trying to cover my backside for the inevitable moment when someone says, "Who does she think she is? Dr. Phil??"...which is perhaps not so inevitable considering the slim odds that someone will read to the end of this letter. Just for the record, I have no designs on Dr. Phil's body hair.

P.S. x 2 You should totally consider me for that guitar position in the band. I play a mean Black Sabbath. You can just ask my one-time teacher who shares your first name and is making an RVA stop on his whirlwind tour. No. Seriously. He rocks. I don't.

Anyone else care to join a one-sided conversation on love and life--and Dr. Phil?

Gone is The Hip(pie) Strip?

Sightings of girls in jeans and stilettos have certainly skyrocketed since Jules Modeling and Talent Agency moved in downstairs. If being hot means caving to that trend, then for once I'm glad I'm me. The road to righteous-babe-dom may well be paved and unpaved with the mini pot holes of local "It" girls, but frankly, I'm all about the sneaks.

Incidentally, did anyone else read that article in the Independent? This is my favorite part. "..their mission is, according to their brochure, 'to provide aspiring talent with the tools to further their personal presentation. Whether they go on to be famous, land that dream job, or become a politician, we believe that beauty radiates from the inside out.' To that end, the sisters incorporate nutrition, fitness, skin care and makeup advice into their services."

And in regards to this whole The "It" Girl show...I love my job, but man, I miss out on all the good stuff!

Say It Ain't So!

Wouldn't you know that the one day I skip the results show is the day my boy, Anwar, gets booted off of Idol. I suppose it's just as well because I was having a pretty hard day and that just might have done me in. I can't help feeling somewhat responsible for the man's demise. I only voted 20 times instead of the usual 80. Now to console myself, I'll just have to play a little Earth, Wind and Fire and get #1 Anwar-lookalike-dancealike Sister to come over...or else roll out the Anwar archives...heh heh...wha-at?

I must say, in defense of the day, that the time spent not watching Anwar get the boot was well spent indeed. Tot and I went to the middle school band concert of the 6th grader that she does therapy with. G.'s band opened their set with La Cucaracha (Beware: audiolink), which of course rocked, but the highlight for me was a lively choral tribute to Aretha Franklin, complete with one lone brainy-looking little boy who good-sport-edly sang "You make me feel like a natural woman" with the best of 'em. The only thing louder than the music heard that night was the tick tick ticking of my biological clock.

Moonshine

All right, quitters. No, I'm kidding. Those were some pretty fabulous guesses (at my expense). The answer is...

I spent the afternoon making raspberry mead with the ghost of Boy! I think this step is called racking the mead. We were trying to siphon out the raspberry (aka hamburger) floaties with some contraband surgical tubing. Word on the street is, this batch might be pretty good. If all goes well in the aging department, we may be toasting the Oscar Party 2006 with a bit of the bubbly (okay, maybe not technically "the bubbly", but it's pinkish, sweet and sparkling, so split not the hairs). Cheers!

Ewwwie!

Anyone care to guess how I spent my day? (No cheating if you know already).

Deep Thoughts II: Mixing My Metaphors

Today I had the daunting task of seeking out a veritable stranger and saying, "If the offer still stands, I'll take that moon". Pretty scary, but worth it. I may never see that haphazard promise fulfilled, but at least I can look myself in the mirror (and Tot in the eye) and say that for once, I took a risk, seized the day, and made a little room in my life for one crazy opportunity. I have a feeling that this is only the beginning of the limb-crawling fear-facing life God is calling me to...and that's okay by me. Life is so much better when He is in the driver's seat.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

I'm so lucky to have you for my dad. I hope that I age as well as you--which is to say, not at all. Keep telling those "dad" jokes that show your canines and your dimple--the one I didn't steal. I love you.

Hi-Ho! Hi-Ho! And All That Rot

Can it really be Friday already? Someone rescue me from this Groundhogs Day..er Week (Month...Year) that is my life. Yesterday I choked so hard on my morning tea that what didn't go straight up my nose spewed out of my mouth in a fine little puddle on my floor. Today my throat is sore and coughy. I've been having trouble swallowing lately. Perhaps it has something to do with the midnight jumproping sessions that Boy and I have started. No. It started before then. Rats. I'm always looking for a chance to blame life's troubles on my come-and-go good habits.

Well, I guess I'd better pack for a weekend of work-fun. If anyone feels like visiting me.............Oh, and YES! YOU KNOW I'M DOWN FOR A PAGEANT DRESS-UP PARTY ON MONDAY!!

The Simpler Life

I am terribly excited. Tonight my friend B, who I haven't seen since her "bachelorette party" that turned into an intervention for me waaay back when I was a workaholic, is coming over for homemade pizza and some good old "reality" tv. By "reality" I mean, American Idol with bits of The Simple Life and America's Top Model thrown in. Whose reality is that? Certainly not ours, which is why it's worth watching, I guess.

Here's hopin' Anwar steers clear of the bottom three and Paris and Nicole don't come down with a flesh-eating bacteria.

Note from Tot: Beauty pageant alert on Monday!!

The Saddest Thing

I had hoped it was just a lousy April Fool's prank, but I guess not.

You're Hot, Tot

I just spent the better (best) part of the evening exchanging stories and hatching schemes with my good friend Tot. She only thinks I'm going to let her move away in May.

Lose Anything Lately?

I convinced #1 Sister to take a late night walk with me after an I Love Lucy marathon. It was pretty cold and drizzly, but I think she'd agree that it was worth it.



Now, I don't want to diminish the work of any Good Samaritans, but really, if those were your teeth, would YOU want them back?

Deep Thoughts

Sometimes I get tired of people who promise the moon. Then someone comes along who stands poised to deliver and I think, "Where the crap am I going to put this moon".

If Blog I Must, then Blog I Shall

Well, it's been a spell, hasn't it? I apologize. The old man (better known--but only slightly--as my computer) has had it in for me the last few days. Perhaps he has heard rumors of a replacement. It's just as well, since there's not a whole lot going on. At the moment, my life is consumed with catsitting my furry little nieces and doing the Idol (idle) countdown. Yup. Everyone but Boy and I seems to be Spring Breakin' it down in Mexico, Portland and Alabama. Yesterday Boy and I toured Rome and Canada...also known as Hoagieville and Dairy Queen...which leads me to the question:

Does anyone else see something terribly wrong with this picture?


Well, gotta go. Miss Bliss is stuck in the broom closet. AGAIN.

Thank God I'm a Country Girl

So this is what happens when there are no guests staying at the house where you work. For 48 hours, it's just you, the kitchen cupboards, a dancing broom and Christian radio. Strange things happen. Puzzles accidentally get put together, dust bunnies come out of the closet, coatracks start to look like people and chocolate marshmallow volcanoes erupt on conveniently located graham crackers. About the latter, my banking lady from New Jersey said her daughter has never known anything but microwaved versions of the tasty campfire treats--or N'mores, as I like to call them. Poor city child. You know it's bad when even I couldn't eat it.

Coming up: The Final 12

So, here's an embarrassing confession. Boy and I watched the girls duke it out on American Idol last night (that's not it) and, for the first time in my A.I. addicted history, I voted. Well, that's not entirely true. I tried to vote once last season but the line was busy and I gave up. This time we were able to vote and vote until my phone battery died, which (before you laugh yourselves silly with mock-pity at our pathetic-ness) doesn't take long these days. I'm thinking between the two of us we must've voted upwards of...I don't know...80 times. We didn't get a busy signal once either, so I'm thinking our girl needed us. What makes Lindsey our girl, you say? Well, Boy thinks she's cute, and I like the fact that her voice is nice and low, so if she ever did become famous and her songs were on the radio, I could sing along. Actually, the voting was all just fun and games. When it comes right down to it, I'm all about the Anwar.

Tim

Somehow you understood in a way that others didn't. We were unlikely friends in that Alienation known as high school. You were the first guy I ever hugged voluntarily. The last thing I remember you saying to me was that I would be the last girl in class to marry. At the time, I thought you were just doing that teasing thing you did so well--the one that made your whole face curl up into a smile. Now I wonder if you weren't a prophet. In any case, I have a bone to pick with you when I see you again. I can hardly wait. I miss you.

Tot, I'm so glad we're friends. I love you and I'm praying for you!

And the Oscar Goes To

Each year, come late February or early March, my friends and I host an Oscar Party. What initially began as an excuse for Twin and I to take a day off from work to don fancy clothes and consume mass quantities of gold foil-wrapped candy has developed into a tradition with a life all its own. Some things have changed. We have since forsaken the idea of taking the day off and have been known to record the ceremony to watch days later (which means turning our ballots in early and sequestering ourselves so as not to spoil the show). The fancy clothes have given way to movie-themed costumes. The candy, however, is still gold foil-wrapped and abundant and is now housed in an Oscar pinata. Even though every party seems like the last--the end of an era--the tradition somehow lives on and in fact, keeps getting better. Don't take my word for it. Check out these winners...

BEST COSTUME for her gender-bending portrayal of The Phan-Tot of the Opera


BEST SPORT for giving up a Sunday night in the life of Jude Cuchil-Law