the rising price of gas has forced me forced my feet to walking. I have always wanted to live in a place where dominant forms of transportation are public or pedestrian. I felt like I was doing something to help the environment by walking everywhere in Australia. I never once lamented over not having a car while living abroad. Combined with green canvas-like grocery bags and lots of walking, I came back a changed woman.
However, upon my return to the states, I immediately got back into my car and cruised around town. I used plastic bags for my groceries and never looked back. Until now! well, until last July, when Ryan and I moved into our apartments, just across the street from the main strip of stores and restaurants. Half the time we walk, the other half, we drive the short distance. I don't feel too too bad driving b/c it's less than a mile to get to where we need to be, as opposed to a few miles each way. It hit me today though, that we really should be walking to those same stores A LOT more often. It's healthier, gas-friendly and money-saving. If we have to walk to the restaurant, we'll probably be too lazy at least half the time. And if we walk to get groceries, we'll buy less b/c we won't want to carry it all home, in theory.
I walked to publix today and filled my green bag with fresh fruit, deli-turkey and cereal. As I walked home, I felt rather proud of my eco-friendly conscience. If only I could apply that to other places in my life. I do intend to invest in a hybrid car at first opportunity and as soon as I can find a home where there is a recycling route, you can bet your bottom dollar I will have a paper bin and a plastic/metal recycling bin! Til then, I slowly bring the paper goods to work to recycle (admittedly not very regularly, but i'm working on it...) and die a little on the inside with every can I throw away.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Monday, May 21, 2007
weekends
because i like to make lists:
1. Ryan and I watched "The Ex" this weekend. I thought it was a bit inappropriately tilted because there was no real emphasis on the fact that Jason Bates was Amanda Peet's ex-anything. At most, he was a fling to her and an unattainable dream for him. Also, i think Zach Braff is a very talented actor, but that he also seems limited to his one kind of acting: the awkward, hopeless romantic who makes puffy lip faces (okay, the puffy lip thing is more of a facial expression and less of an acting thing, but i felt it was important to add). In general, i liked the movie but it was painful to watch. I seriously have trouble liking a movie that shits on the main character for an hour and a half in every way possible and then clears it all up in the last 15 minutes. That is why I don't like Meet the Fockers.
2. I feel like i had one of those weekends where I was really busy and all over the place, when in reality, i was not very busy (no car) I just didn't have a reasonable schedule of sleep and Monday at 6am is kicking my arse, mercilessly. Friday night, Ryan went to work at 6 or so and after he left, I decided to treat myself to a nap. At about 10:15 PM! i finally dragged myself out of bed long enough to sleepily stumble around the apartment until I realized i was FAMISHED! and made myself a lovely bowl of fruity pebbles. Then, I tried to go back to sleep b/c I felt incapable of doing anything else and proceeded to roll around in bed until 1:45 AM! Ryan came home to find me knocked out sleeping upside down and tangled in the blanket.
3. I heart Cinotti's cookies. I heart them so much, i sat down in front of the computer and ate an entire frosted piece of cookie heaven so fast I gave myself a horrible tummy ache. But, friends, I did not stop there. I waited for the tummy ache to subside and then took a bite of yet another yummy cookie, not once, not twice, but three times. I had to wait in between bites to let the sugar settle before I could sneak another bite.
4. i like even numbers
5. i also like numbers that are divisible by 5.
6. It's hard to be in a relationship sometimes. It's always completely worth it, but it is still hard sometimes.
1. Ryan and I watched "The Ex" this weekend. I thought it was a bit inappropriately tilted because there was no real emphasis on the fact that Jason Bates was Amanda Peet's ex-anything. At most, he was a fling to her and an unattainable dream for him. Also, i think Zach Braff is a very talented actor, but that he also seems limited to his one kind of acting: the awkward, hopeless romantic who makes puffy lip faces (okay, the puffy lip thing is more of a facial expression and less of an acting thing, but i felt it was important to add). In general, i liked the movie but it was painful to watch. I seriously have trouble liking a movie that shits on the main character for an hour and a half in every way possible and then clears it all up in the last 15 minutes. That is why I don't like Meet the Fockers.
2. I feel like i had one of those weekends where I was really busy and all over the place, when in reality, i was not very busy (no car) I just didn't have a reasonable schedule of sleep and Monday at 6am is kicking my arse, mercilessly. Friday night, Ryan went to work at 6 or so and after he left, I decided to treat myself to a nap. At about 10:15 PM! i finally dragged myself out of bed long enough to sleepily stumble around the apartment until I realized i was FAMISHED! and made myself a lovely bowl of fruity pebbles. Then, I tried to go back to sleep b/c I felt incapable of doing anything else and proceeded to roll around in bed until 1:45 AM! Ryan came home to find me knocked out sleeping upside down and tangled in the blanket.
3. I heart Cinotti's cookies. I heart them so much, i sat down in front of the computer and ate an entire frosted piece of cookie heaven so fast I gave myself a horrible tummy ache. But, friends, I did not stop there. I waited for the tummy ache to subside and then took a bite of yet another yummy cookie, not once, not twice, but three times. I had to wait in between bites to let the sugar settle before I could sneak another bite.
4. i like even numbers
5. i also like numbers that are divisible by 5.
6. It's hard to be in a relationship sometimes. It's always completely worth it, but it is still hard sometimes.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
color me FAB-ulous!
tonight, I am sitting on the couch eating ice cream in a wine glass while watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. i heart saturdays.
Friday, May 18, 2007
card files
I received an email from my sister in law today. It was a compelling story that prompted me to think about my time and my faith. Here's the story:
THE ROOM
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote.." It also was the last. Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School . Brian had been dead only hours , but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.
Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life.. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted. The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay: The Room...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.
A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I kne w that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick t o thin k that such a moment ha d been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long , self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.
No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bri ng myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.
He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoev er believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." - John 3: 16
The reaction:
Stepping away from the religous aspect of the story for a moment, I stop and think about what kinds of cards would be in my file. Would there be a file for evil thoughts I've had? Daydreams? Thoughts in hindsight? Road rage comments? Dreams I've had while napping? Nightmares? Baby-sitting experiences? Job interviews? What about some of the files I wouldn't want anyone to know could ever exist?
Awhile ago, Ryan and I watched this movie with Robin Williams called The Final Cut. In the movie, a small chip or something like that could be purchased for a newborn child. The chip would be placed in the memory area of the brain and capture, like a movie, every memory that a person experiences. Robin Williams plays a "cutter" who cuts the memories of people who have passed away. Once he has made a final product, the "movie" is shown at the funeral. The movie contains all the happy, heart warming memories that a family would want to see after their loved one has passed away. Consequently, Robin Williams has to sift through hundreds of hours of people's lives, through all the mundane toothbrushing, sleeping, dreams, embarassing moments, secret times and all. The chip is inaccessible to anyone, until the person has passed away.
Throughout the movie he is haunted by a horrible graphic memory from his childhood. Throughout his work, he searches for a file that will help him to see the past as it happened. It is an interesting movie because you get to see some memories first, how the person percieved it and then when they die, you get to see the event as it actually happened. The chip does not record perception, it records what is seen.
I have many times wished that I could go back through my memories and see what I've seen as everyone else saw it. I also always wish that I could go through the archives of my memories to relive my travels and my dreams. I would love to visit the dreams that are not recalled in waking moments.
THE ROOM
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote.." It also was the last. Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School . Brian had been dead only hours , but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.
Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life.. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted. The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay: The Room...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.
A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I kne w that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick t o thin k that such a moment ha d been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long , self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.
No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bri ng myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.
He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoev er believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." - John 3: 16
The reaction:
Stepping away from the religous aspect of the story for a moment, I stop and think about what kinds of cards would be in my file. Would there be a file for evil thoughts I've had? Daydreams? Thoughts in hindsight? Road rage comments? Dreams I've had while napping? Nightmares? Baby-sitting experiences? Job interviews? What about some of the files I wouldn't want anyone to know could ever exist?
Awhile ago, Ryan and I watched this movie with Robin Williams called The Final Cut. In the movie, a small chip or something like that could be purchased for a newborn child. The chip would be placed in the memory area of the brain and capture, like a movie, every memory that a person experiences. Robin Williams plays a "cutter" who cuts the memories of people who have passed away. Once he has made a final product, the "movie" is shown at the funeral. The movie contains all the happy, heart warming memories that a family would want to see after their loved one has passed away. Consequently, Robin Williams has to sift through hundreds of hours of people's lives, through all the mundane toothbrushing, sleeping, dreams, embarassing moments, secret times and all. The chip is inaccessible to anyone, until the person has passed away.
Throughout the movie he is haunted by a horrible graphic memory from his childhood. Throughout his work, he searches for a file that will help him to see the past as it happened. It is an interesting movie because you get to see some memories first, how the person percieved it and then when they die, you get to see the event as it actually happened. The chip does not record perception, it records what is seen.
I have many times wished that I could go back through my memories and see what I've seen as everyone else saw it. I also always wish that I could go through the archives of my memories to relive my travels and my dreams. I would love to visit the dreams that are not recalled in waking moments.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
walk all over me..
Over the years, I have noticed a general trend of people bombarding me with information that I am already aware of. Perhaps I just have some sort of personal issue, as if I take it as a personal attack when people try to tell me very obvious things. Back in high school I had a friend who always dumbed down things for me all of the time. I always wondered if that was just her personality and never paid any attention to whether or not she did it to other people, too.
Then, I had a roommate a couple of years ago who literally thought she knew exactly how everything works. She once explained to me that I should try shoes on before I buy, wiggle my toes around and then if I felt like they fit me well, I could buy them. The most insulting time was when I was in Target buying a printer cartridge and I had forgotten to look at the printer type before I left. I called to ask her to find out what printer I had and she explained to me that printers have "special numbers" that correspond to the printer cartridge so that you know which cartridge is compatible to the computer. Obviously I knew about these "special numbers", I just had forgotten to write it down.
Now, there is this kid at work who yells over any conversation that I am having with another person, to say pretty much the exact same thing I am saying, just louder and in different words/order. This kid tries to intercept every phone call they're present for and snatches things out of my hand to take over whatever task it is that I'm working on. The problem is that if i try to tell this person that they are stating the obvious or are annoyingly overbearing, they will take it way to personally and never help me again.
I wish I had a way of watching myself to see my body language, facial expressions and demeanor. I would like to figure out how I can stop letting these kinds of people walk all over me all of the time. I know that I have a more passive personality and that I ask questions, but why does that combination lead to people negating the idea that I have any knowledge at all?
I despise people who are masters of the obvious. They are the ones who not only tell you to bring an umbrella, but explain that if you don't have an umbrella, you'll get wet in the rain. I can't stand that. There are times when I need help, and I appreciate it, but there are also things that I am capable of doing and don't need my hand held to accomplish every little thing I do.
Then, I had a roommate a couple of years ago who literally thought she knew exactly how everything works. She once explained to me that I should try shoes on before I buy, wiggle my toes around and then if I felt like they fit me well, I could buy them. The most insulting time was when I was in Target buying a printer cartridge and I had forgotten to look at the printer type before I left. I called to ask her to find out what printer I had and she explained to me that printers have "special numbers" that correspond to the printer cartridge so that you know which cartridge is compatible to the computer. Obviously I knew about these "special numbers", I just had forgotten to write it down.
Now, there is this kid at work who yells over any conversation that I am having with another person, to say pretty much the exact same thing I am saying, just louder and in different words/order. This kid tries to intercept every phone call they're present for and snatches things out of my hand to take over whatever task it is that I'm working on. The problem is that if i try to tell this person that they are stating the obvious or are annoyingly overbearing, they will take it way to personally and never help me again.
I wish I had a way of watching myself to see my body language, facial expressions and demeanor. I would like to figure out how I can stop letting these kinds of people walk all over me all of the time. I know that I have a more passive personality and that I ask questions, but why does that combination lead to people negating the idea that I have any knowledge at all?
I despise people who are masters of the obvious. They are the ones who not only tell you to bring an umbrella, but explain that if you don't have an umbrella, you'll get wet in the rain. I can't stand that. There are times when I need help, and I appreciate it, but there are also things that I am capable of doing and don't need my hand held to accomplish every little thing I do.
Monday, May 7, 2007
weekends
On Friday, one of the doctors asked me if I had big plans for the weekend and I told him "no" because my weekend plans consisted of basically nothing. However, my weekend was nowhere near having nothing to do.
Friday afternoon, Ryan and I found out that his parents were coming in town. So, Friday afternoon, I came home from work, took a nice nap and then straightened up the apartment. His parents came in around 7:00ish and I left to bring Ryan dinner. The theater was so busy because of Spiderman 3 that I didn't find a parking space and he never had a moment to sit down to eat with me anyway. So, on my way home, I called Nina (who was already at my apartment to play Mario Party) and we made plans to go to Coldstone. Nina and I chatted with Ryan's mom for awhile and then treated ourselves to yummy ice cream. Afterward we played Mario Party until Ryan came home.
I was in serious need of snuggle, so I all but pushed Nina and Mike out the door and immediately ran to bed for some good ild fashioned super-snuggle. We played our new MMORPG follwoing the snuggle time.
The rest of the weekend was a blur of people and food. Laney and I laid by the pool for awhile, where we ran into the D & D guys, and met up with Mary, Charlie, Nana, the Cheese, and the boys. It was a BLAST. We had a lovely little dinner. Laney, Nana and I sat on the couches for about 4hours and talked until our eyes were closing. Ryan and I ended the evening with more L.O.T.R game-playing.
Sunday was even more fun and games. The day started like this:
10:00am - sleep in and have enthusiastic cuddling.
11:00am - the Great Hunt for food
11:30am - "Breakfast" at Zaxby's
11:30 - 1:00pm - The Great Hunt for the Passat registration: My dad called to ask where my car registration was. I called my sister to have her search my car and my mom's car (b/c I knew my dad did not search very well). My dad was completely convinced he gave it to me, I was certain he did not. Called my dad to say I definitely did not have it and if it ever was in my possesion, it was lost forever and I would arrange (and pay) for a new one. My dad called me a little while later to say that my mom found it and that she was sorry. Got my mom on the phone, apologized for any crankiness she had to endure. The entire time, my dad was freaking out on my mom and sister, but was completely calm with me. I'm sure it was madness at the house as they tore everything apart trying to find the damn registration. Several hours later, I was going through my wallet and I found both copies of my insurance cards. My first thought was "oh shit". I called my dad to let him and had to fax them to him today before he blew a gasket.
1:00pm - 5:00pm - LOTR mmorpg
5:00pm - walk to PJ's
6:00pm Food, fun and madness
We sat around playing online for several hours. Took a walk to PJ's coffee and had an even bigger dinner. BTW, I did not enjoy PJ's Toffee Velvet Ice. It lacked in flavor completely. Ryan's Chai left a lot to be desired. We ( and by "we" I mean Charlie) used our grill for the first time ever for steaks and brat-yuckies. The best part is, I didn'thave to show off my less-than-fabulous cooking skills or my OCD cleaning habits. The most work I did was sweep the porch, supervise the cleaning of the grill and start a load of laundry.
The weekend was busy and fun. There is no left-over cleaning to do, my lunch today was leftovers from yesterday (yummy!) and everyone is happy. It's not so much fun to be back in the office. I'm quite exhausted b/c we ended up playing online much later than I planned. My wonderful plan to find a new game for Ryan and I to play together worked out marvelously. I love learning the new game and hanging out with him. We even have new game cube games, though we haven't indulged much time in them, mostly due to the fact that we have very little spare time after work, meals, family, LOTR mmorpg and sleep.
Looking forward to a nap this afternoon.
Friday afternoon, Ryan and I found out that his parents were coming in town. So, Friday afternoon, I came home from work, took a nice nap and then straightened up the apartment. His parents came in around 7:00ish and I left to bring Ryan dinner. The theater was so busy because of Spiderman 3 that I didn't find a parking space and he never had a moment to sit down to eat with me anyway. So, on my way home, I called Nina (who was already at my apartment to play Mario Party) and we made plans to go to Coldstone. Nina and I chatted with Ryan's mom for awhile and then treated ourselves to yummy ice cream. Afterward we played Mario Party until Ryan came home.
I was in serious need of snuggle, so I all but pushed Nina and Mike out the door and immediately ran to bed for some good ild fashioned super-snuggle. We played our new MMORPG follwoing the snuggle time.
The rest of the weekend was a blur of people and food. Laney and I laid by the pool for awhile, where we ran into the D & D guys, and met up with Mary, Charlie, Nana, the Cheese, and the boys. It was a BLAST. We had a lovely little dinner. Laney, Nana and I sat on the couches for about 4hours and talked until our eyes were closing. Ryan and I ended the evening with more L.O.T.R game-playing.
Sunday was even more fun and games. The day started like this:
10:00am - sleep in and have enthusiastic cuddling.
11:00am - the Great Hunt for food
11:30am - "Breakfast" at Zaxby's
11:30 - 1:00pm - The Great Hunt for the Passat registration: My dad called to ask where my car registration was. I called my sister to have her search my car and my mom's car (b/c I knew my dad did not search very well). My dad was completely convinced he gave it to me, I was certain he did not. Called my dad to say I definitely did not have it and if it ever was in my possesion, it was lost forever and I would arrange (and pay) for a new one. My dad called me a little while later to say that my mom found it and that she was sorry. Got my mom on the phone, apologized for any crankiness she had to endure. The entire time, my dad was freaking out on my mom and sister, but was completely calm with me. I'm sure it was madness at the house as they tore everything apart trying to find the damn registration. Several hours later, I was going through my wallet and I found both copies of my insurance cards. My first thought was "oh shit". I called my dad to let him and had to fax them to him today before he blew a gasket.
1:00pm - 5:00pm - LOTR mmorpg
5:00pm - walk to PJ's
6:00pm Food, fun and madness
We sat around playing online for several hours. Took a walk to PJ's coffee and had an even bigger dinner. BTW, I did not enjoy PJ's Toffee Velvet Ice. It lacked in flavor completely. Ryan's Chai left a lot to be desired. We ( and by "we" I mean Charlie) used our grill for the first time ever for steaks and brat-yuckies. The best part is, I didn'thave to show off my less-than-fabulous cooking skills or my OCD cleaning habits. The most work I did was sweep the porch, supervise the cleaning of the grill and start a load of laundry.
The weekend was busy and fun. There is no left-over cleaning to do, my lunch today was leftovers from yesterday (yummy!) and everyone is happy. It's not so much fun to be back in the office. I'm quite exhausted b/c we ended up playing online much later than I planned. My wonderful plan to find a new game for Ryan and I to play together worked out marvelously. I love learning the new game and hanging out with him. We even have new game cube games, though we haven't indulged much time in them, mostly due to the fact that we have very little spare time after work, meals, family, LOTR mmorpg and sleep.
Looking forward to a nap this afternoon.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
I want a garden
I want a garden and all the goodies that come with it. And by goodies, I don't just mean the fruits of my labor, I mean, I want the yard, the dog for the yard, the house, in short, the life. I might even go so far as to put a little picket fence around my garden, to keep the dog out of my tomatos, of course. I am infinitely jealous of Jacqui's garden. It's so cute and fruitful (or will be eventually).
I love my apartment, don't get me wrong. It's starting to come together slowly into a homey-cute place. You see, Ryan's mom has taken me under her wing and is attempting to teach me to sew. I am not a very good student because I don't practice very often, but soon I'll get my act together and make time for sewing projects. When that happens, there will be curtains and matching bedsheets and pillowcases in my rooms. I would like to one day make a slipcover for each of the couches and duvet covers because I love to change out my bed decor often. I have big dreams.
Another reason why I would like to have a yard is so that I can just step outside my back door and lay out. I like the pool atmosphere, but if i have my own yard, I can layout whenever I want, listen to music, watch TV, etc.
I love my apartment, don't get me wrong. It's starting to come together slowly into a homey-cute place. You see, Ryan's mom has taken me under her wing and is attempting to teach me to sew. I am not a very good student because I don't practice very often, but soon I'll get my act together and make time for sewing projects. When that happens, there will be curtains and matching bedsheets and pillowcases in my rooms. I would like to one day make a slipcover for each of the couches and duvet covers because I love to change out my bed decor often. I have big dreams.
Another reason why I would like to have a yard is so that I can just step outside my back door and lay out. I like the pool atmosphere, but if i have my own yard, I can layout whenever I want, listen to music, watch TV, etc.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
some girls have all the luck...
..and some girls just don't. I am so grateful for the way my mother raised me. Thanks to her, I am frugal, I love sweets/candy/yummies, I'm not terribly pretty, but iI'm not terribly ugly, I attempt daily to "kill 'em with kindness", and I am chronically late. There are a million other wonderful and character building things that my mother passed onto me in all her wisdom, but they are countless and not always noticeable.
I love my mom. I think she could actually be my hero.
I love my mom. I think she could actually be my hero.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)