Gin Straight from the Cat Dish

8:58AM - New Blog

I've decided to try a new blog out! The address is
http://ginfromthecatdish.blogspot.com/

2:16PM - That Darn Cat

I grew up in a house that was kept chilly in the summer. My parents were farmers and spent a lot of hot days outside in the summer. When my dad came inside he wanted some respite from the Nebraska sun. So our house was chilly. Walking out into the day was like the inside of a car and the inside of a car was like....really hot. 
    The winter was much the same. After being out in the freezing snow and wind, Dad wanted to be warm. Not only that, he had some fancy wood stove connected to the center heater, so he also like to demonstrate the power of wood heat. "Nothing beats wood heat" he'd say, the rest of us lounging around in shorts, barely moving, appearing to the outside world what might look like if there was a carbon monoxide leak. Creating the opposite environment inside our house felt natural and safe. 
     Now here I am in Seattle, where I have been snowed in for the last two days. My thermastat is at 72 and I'm just freezing! I just can't turn the heat up any more, my pocketbook would certainly jump out the junk drawer and slap me across the face. I have survived winters with blizzards producing house sized drifts and our electricity going off during them. I've seen 6 feet of snow appear in a weekend. I have swam in oceans with waves much too big for me to handle. I have walked across a country and hitchhiked through another. I have carried 12 groceries bags into the house at once.  But it is the 3 inches here on Phinney Ridge that is going to bring me to my knees. It's like getting Al Capone on tax evasion.

One of my roommates has a cat. A really really naughty cat. She attacks the tree, eats my pants, scratches everything, and drives me absolutely insane. When i'm home I carry around a squirt bottle. She's sees me coming and runs away. Usually after a couple naughty things she learns her lesson and goes somewhere else and plays. But this morning as I was knitting away, she was so annoying. I wanted to  throw her in the snow or stab her with a knitting needle-and knitting is supposed to be relaxing for me! But I just felt so violent towards this stupid little fluffy cute animal. It made me feel like such a monster. So i threw her into the laundry room where her cat food and litter is. Why is it, the more defenseless creatures bring out the most rage inside of me? Kids can do it too. I suppose it's that awful confrontation of feeling defenseless myself. Seeing something else defenseless brings out the anger of my own situation. Which is profound and even helpful, but why does it produce such destruction? Neither the anger nor the profundities seem to move me somewhere helpful. Instead they move me to yelling at kittens and small children and smacking my head later with "oh yeah, it's not you it's me!" 

    Although my Grandma Lindgren doesn't like cats either. And she's one of the nicest women I know. So...maybe it's not me, it's the cat.

2:11PM

After watching one of those "you're wearing all the wrong clothes" shows where the woman in question was wearing clothes too tight for her, I couldn't help but wonder, "How did I get on this show?" Now I do like to wear clothes that are busty and to get this, often I have to sacrifice other proprieties. Basically i live my life like I only own a mirror that shows the middle of my stomach and up. Which is true. It's actually been awhile since I've seen what i look like from top to bottom-which I'm usually ok with.
    So what they made this girl do, was shop at a store for bigger girls. It hurt her feelings and blah blah blah, but she found some really cute things. Meanwhile, little ole me sitting on the couch eating a mexican quiche was like, "What?! They have stores for us?" I have not bought clothes, especially pants that fit me well and I've liked in 2 years. At least.

The other day I sat across from Emily eating a dinner of pork (Emily's just recently an ex-vegetarian) I told her about the fact that there are stores for people like me. And she thoughtfully said, "you know? I think i've heard of them." We only had one name in mind: Lane Bryant. I told her I was going to go there. Hopefully I would fit right in, but if not, then it would be a relief to have clothes too big. So today we both cut class and after watching the godfather we went to the mall. Even though neither of us really like malls we both happy to be somewhere that reminded us of the midwest. We got whipped cream on our coffee and ate food court food. Over a handful of onion rings emily said, "Whenever we miss the midwest we need to come here."

After getting lost in JC Penny's for what seemed like an unreasonable amount of time, we found our way into the mall and to Lane Bryant. First thing I tried on was the smallest size shirt and it was too big! in the bust! If you know me at all you know i have huge knockers, so this is sort of a surprise. A really really pleasant surprise. Emily was my plucky sidekick. She even found something teal that I love.

I don't know if you've ever been in a Lane Bryant before, but they have 3 different fits of their jeans. Yellow, Red, and Blue. On a huge sign over the jeans is a description of what might be happening to you in your jeans "jeans fit in the thighs but gap in the back?" or "jeans fit on your thighs but you have to unbutton the waist? Or they fit the waist but not the thighs?" I was this one, which is a yellow. As I was looking at the sizes in the yellow area, I realized the sizes only go up to 8. I was like, "SO even in the fat girl store I can't get a pair of jeans?" I was about to sit down and cry when the sales person came over and explained that the numbers started at a 14. I looked over at Emily and we both wiped a tear from our eyes.

So Emily and I began an exodus of clothing into the dressing room. I tried so many things on.  Several shirts were too big (too big!!) but let me tell you. The jeans fit. They fit good. Emily told me to turn around so she could look at my butt and when i turned back around she was nodding in her, "Damn girl!" nod. It's not to be confused with the "Melissa! How cute!" tilt of the head. At one point I turned the reigns over to her with the instructions of "think color" and just tried clothes on left and right. If you've ever been shopping with me...this is not how I usually roll. I usually pick out about 10 things and if something worked out great, if not well, there's always next time. Never do I look someone in the eye and say, "bring everything in my size."
    One of the sales reps hovered outside and everytime I came out she would explain, "OH! Now there you go! I like that one!"  Sometimes it would be a fit that was really unflattering and she would still exclaim, "Now I really like the way that one fits on you!" Emily and I would wait until she was finished and then look at each other and either give the nod or the scrunched nose shake of the head. 

I decided on two pairs of jeans (as I didn't actually own ANY pants jeans or otherwise), 3 tops, and a plum little jacket-the kind that just has a couple buttons at the top and sort of bells out. As she was ringing me up I looked over at Emily and gave her the "I might be spending too much" look and she frowned at me very seriously and mouthed, "YOU DESERVE THIS!" Which was so touching that she and I both almost cried. But instead we giggled a little too loudly and high pitched. When we were done, the sales woman touched my hand and said, "It was great working with you today." That, too, would have been really touching but I had just heard her say that to the woman before me.  
       But I highly recommend the store. Even if it's clothes that won't fit on you, it's such a positive atmosphere. I plan on going once a month just to breath in the magic. I'll close my eyes and feel all the woman who have felt terrible about there bodies and have hated going to stores where the biggest article of clothing still rolls up to her chin like the fat little mouse's shirt in Cinderella. All the woman who have settled for clothing too small for her with the promise of "Well when i lose a couple pounds this will fit perfectly" and then it sits expensively in her drawer whispering what a loser she is. And with my eyes closed I'll hear in the distance their happy rejoicing at finding clothes that fit them, and fit them well. And then I'll raise my hand in victory and the closing credits will start with Eliza Minelli singing, "For the First Time" with cute baby photos of me slowly flashing by.



Yesterday it was clothes and today it's going to be a hair cut. Mama's getting a whole new look. (I told Shaughn that if I ever have kids they are calling me "mama" and he looked at me and frowned, "But what am I going to call you then?") I even got green contacts. They are a little more olive-y then i was hoping but they are pretty fun anyhow. It's so fun getting to spruce up my outsides. Inside it's been a tough winter. My best friend and I broke up, I had to move out of my house-two very grounding things in my life that just caved in under me. But I have a beautiful new house, a roommate and friend who cried with me at finding jeans that fit, and another roommate who's biggest complaint is that she doesn't get to see me enough. I have to say, even though the leaves are falling outside, inside the spring is blooming.
 

12:59PM

       I watched Starting Out in the Evening this morning. This old writer is interviewed by this red-headed hottie who's not as smart as her pretty eyes tell you. She's asking him about his process and if he ever has a story in mind before he writes and he tells her no, that he wishes it was that simple, but that he starts out with one character and he follows that character around until the character does something interesting. After the movie was over I was like, "do I have any characters I want to follow?" And i was reminded of this idea of a story i had last summer of a woman who officiates weddings as a profession in somewhere other than vegas. It can't be vegas because all those lights already give me a headache and the only reason you should put a story in vegas is if your writing about a librarian come prostitute who finds love unexpectedly or you like to write about people on drugs because Vegas architecturally is on drugs and it makes a poetic albiet obvious backdrop. 
      So I promptly packed my computer and bought a pot of tea and sat down in a quiet corner in a nearby coffee shop. Then I spent 15 minutes making a background for my wordperfect so it would enable thoughtful writing. And then I got going. But I couldn't think of a name for my character. I tried to get her to tell me but she was in a freeze frame in a cute chapel at twilight-i'm not sure what she's about to do but she's there empty and peaceful there. But what is her name? And so i looked for the patron saint of marriages and found Renene and only later realized that Renene was the woman who asked the question and not the actual saint. But too late. I like it. done. 
  
THEN I wrote. a whole paragraph. 

It was going really well but then i got hungry so i went across the street for a panini and ended up also buying a bottle of honey. I think to celebrate my up-coming book tour. 

When i came back I ate my sandwhich while surfing the net, and then....wrote another entire sentence. 

Now i'm breaking to blog. I feel like I started too far away from Ranine in the chapel and i'm already bored at trying to arrive to my character. I guess that means i should skip to it, huh?

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In other news, Sineady asked me the other day if i wanted to hear a joke i've never heard before. And i did:
"Two little girls sitting on the porch and one little girl says, 'phew! it's getting hot out.' and the other little girl says, 'AGH! MY LEG FELL OFF!'"

 It's reminiscent of her earlier muffin work but it's brilliant.

 [ In case you haven't heard the muffin joke: 
Two muffins sitting in the oven (or toaster, she likes to change it up) and one says "phew! it's sure getting hot in here" and the other says, "AGH!!! A TALKING MUFFIN!"]

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Jen, Fiona and Sinead and I went to Richmond Beach other day and it was lovely. Fiona wasn't feeling very well though. She came and laid her head on my lap and so i wrapped her up in my red/orange wrap and set her on my lap. She dozed and drooled on my chest. It was amazing. 
     She told Jen she wanted to go home and Jen said we would in 15 minutes. After a bit Jen asked me if I wanted to go. I shrugged and nodded sure. Fiona who didn't see this interaction said, "Mom's talking to you, Mis." I explained that I heard and had nodded yes. Fiona said, "Okay." For some reason it was a really cute and familial moment between she and I. 

_____________

OK. I'm going to spend a little more time finding my character. 

7:15PM - Cheyenne or Arco

We left nebraska today. Six hours later we were out of nebraska. We stopped on the outskirts of Cheyenne. We paid 60 bucks for a motel room where the lady messed up the credit card transaction and didn't have change. Amanda got pretty annoyed and then i thought about it and I got a annoyed too. When we finally got to our rooms Amanda took the bed I wanted so I was also annoyed with her too. I had all my stuff there and she just kept putting her stuff on the bed. It was such a passive aggressive bullshit move that I kicked myself for not thinking of it earlier. After pointing out how passive agressive she was I went to get some food. I bought pringles while I waited for my food. That's how hungry I was. When I got back to the room my bed was in the direct light and the whole room was muggy from Amanda's shower. I tried to open a beer but I didn't have an opener and I couldn't find a counter with a straight edge, except this little ledge and i tried and tried and almost got it and impulsively decided to use my teeth. I can't even tell you what a bad idea this is. i've yelled at people who've done this. And that's what Amanda did. Except she didn't yell. She used a patronizing voice which was almost as bad. So I handed it to her and sat down pretending to read. I felt like i was going to cry. I felt so pathetic being grouchy and practically pacing because I couldn't get my beer opened. Who does that? And then I ate some of my pizza and felt a little better even though it was one of the most tasteless things I've ever eaten. I'm serious. At first i thought i just wasn't paying attention but then I smelled it, chewed slowly, and nothing. Zilch. It doesn't taste like anything. It has all the right texture though, so I asked my imagination to please kick in but it was pretty busy pretending the tv was interesting and that I didn't really want that silly ole beer anyway. 

I remembered though that we have a wine/bottle opener in the car for daily bottle of wine. After I got that and opened my beer Amand went to go get herself some food. Last night was the first night we haven't slept together. We slept in Jen and Paul's RV and had so many bed choices it was almost dizzying. After so much space in Spencer to roam around in, I think spending mutliple hours in the car together is somewhat of a transition. Just having the door close behind her calmed my nerves. I don't think it's necessarily about Amanda as much as it's just the fact that breathing the same air and having each other's brain waves constantly bouncing off each other affects a person. And as a somewhat claustrophobic person, it can sometimes make me want to swing a ten foot pole around in a circle and yell, "THIS IS HOW MUCH SPACE I NEED!" But you know, don't leave. 


Now that I'm finally on my way I don't really want to stop. I just keep thinking of my boyfriend Shaughn and how happy we will be to see each other, bounding into each other's embrace like a Disney movie. It sucks dating people long distance. It's just hard missing someone so much and maintaining a connection. It would be easier to not care as much, to let some of the affection calm down, but then I lose Shaughn. So I have to just stay in the difficulty. 

Also, I'm unsure why NPR thinks it's acceptable to just play irish music instead of having interesting news programs about things like The Gays, floods, and tame explanations of how hip hop is transforming Arkansas. I don't come this close to donating, for them to play scottish ballards back to back with irish ballads and then ask if I could tell the difference. 

Well my battery is about to die and since the only outlet is next to the ceiling clear across the room I'm just going to close this whinefest.

6:17PM - Sitting with Hope

I'm actually sitting with Hope, my cousin's baby daughter. What does that make us? Second cousins? First cousins once removed? I don't usually say this because it might hurt people's feelings but aside from my nieces and nephews, Hope is the cutest baby I've ever seen. She is a little blondy whose hair is beginning to curl in the back. She has this captivating pale skin and these bright eyes that I just beg to look at me. But more than that, Hope has the chunkiest little legs. Oh the rolls! I have become that aunt who pinches. All because of Hope. I just looked down and she was reaching at the sunlight coming in the window. I've met the baby Jesus, and her name is Hope.

Every evening I think about how I'm going to write in my blog the next morning, but it just doesn't seem to get done the next day. But there has been so much to write about. So many small beautiful moments. 

Sunday morning my brother, Jacob, mentioned that he was going to take his youngest son on the four-wheeler for a drive. I went along and sat behind my brother whose strong back, shoulders, arms and grab-able love handles are about the most comforting thing I can think of. Just thinking about my brother makes me a little sleepy, like when you've done something fun all day and you plop down on something soft and fall instantly asleep. Jacob has always been someone calming to be around, but it's been the last few years of visits that I've realized that I really like sitting next to him. Even just sitting next to him, I feel like I'm being hugged. Does this even make sense? Or is it starting to sound a little creepy?
        Anyhow, I'm sitting behind Jacob on the four-wheeler and Alex is sitting in front of his dad yelling "COW! MOO! COW!" We went on an old country dirt road we used to take to get to the country school all my siblings but me attended. I looked out at the rolling hills which were both familiar and new to me. I come from a land of green and blond. Each hill had a new shade of green carpet with tall wheat colored brome grass that seemed to make a halo of each hill. When it's windy the brome falls and rises like the waves of an ocean. Wild flowers of orange, yellow, puprle, and burgundy spot the country side like paint drops flung off a brush. I've soaked in many a country side but that Sunday morning drive will go down as one of the most beautiful sites I've ever seen.

This has been a month of ping pong and dominos.  Amanda asked Matt, my cousin, the other day, "What's the motto here again? Nebraska: You'll have a better time here?"  (It's "The Good Life") Matt and I have played countless cames of ping pong. The goal when we first started was to be able to beat Jacob. Which I did eventually. But then I played dad. And lost. We only go to play 3 times but he one each time. Matt beat dad though, but I don't think he beat Jacob. It's a web. Personally I believe Matt and i are the best-we played each other so much before my parents and jacob came that when we started to  play against other people Matt and I felt quite loyal to each other. We'd watch each other play and give each other cute little winks when things went out way.
       The morning before they left, Mom beat me 3 games in a row in ping-pong. I had watched Coke say goodbye to them earlier and my heart was beginning to break. 

When I say goodbye to people, it's often sad, but I feel like an adult about it. When I say goodbye Mom I feel much younger and my heart rips open. I just hate saying goodbye to her. After she left I went and laid on my bed and just cried and cried. Amanda eventually found me and patted me back to life.  Ugh. It's just so hard having big parts of me not with me. 

In many ways Nebraska is this huge part of me that is not carried around in my pocket. I've completely forgotten how to say dinner instead of lunch, supper instead of dinner. It's green and blond colors do not linger as they should but are too easily forgotten in Seattle's shroud of gray. Its summery hot mugginess that melts into perfect star filled evenings is cooled by wet streets with puddles that dampen my pants up to my shins. That vast feeling that there is enough even though there is nothing gets crowded out in Seattle's empty plenty. 

Whenever I write or talk in metaphors Mom asks "But what do you mean?" 

Tomorrow I leave Aunt Coke's to spend the weekend with Jacob and his family in Lincoln. Amanda and I are going to walk around and see if we can live there. I've been uncomfortable and pessimistic at the thought of writing a book. And then I've had moments of unbelieveable peace and excitement about it. Part of that came about deciding to live in Lincoln and not Spencer (though by no fault of my awesome family here), and the other part came about in deciding to write in the first person. So I'm excited to visit with Lincoln a little and see if we can be roommates. 

Until then, I'm going to play with Hope-alicious some more.

9:25AM - The Knitting Circle

Last night talking with Ranessa and Jennifer I was talking about what i was going to do for the an Independent Study in school this fall. I have been planning to try to connect with the Boys and Girls club and do an afterschool story telling program for jr high/high school aged kids. But as I was talking with my special lady friends I said out loud, "I wish I could just start a knitting group for credit when I get home." I've been thinking about starting a knitting group a LOT for the last week. Right after I said it I got so excited. What if I did a research project about what happenes in craft circles? And what the story telling looks like in that situations? I can't explain it fully here but I'm super excited about it. I'll have to talk to some advisors when I get home. I've already told a few people I want to start a knitting cirlce and they've been excited about it....so that for sure will happen when I get home. Oh  man, the wheels are spinning too fast for me to explain what I'm thinking. 



I just spend the last 10 minutes in the Village Variet bathroom. It started out as a routine visit but after flushing and washing my hands it got a little more complicated. The toilet hadn't flushed. Amanda, my cousin, and i had recently gone to a party where one of the bathrooms wasn't working and  was explained to us as, "NO DOOKIES IN THE FIRST TOILET!" And as i looked accusingly at the toilet at Village Variety, that's what I kept thinking. I waited. Flushed again. No helped. I plunged a bit. I waited a little longer. I wasn't sure what was worse. Being in there such a long time or leaving a dookie for the next person. It was a hard decision. I decided the second was the worse. Because this is a small town. Everyone would know it was me. If I was in Seattle, the first one would have been worse. So i hung in there until everything finally flushed down. And then i marched out with my head held high. 

       Just a little anthropology lesson for you. 



I was talking to my boyfriend, Shaughn, on the phone the other day. I had just asked him how his day was and he began his little monologue of events. My phone cut out in the middle. But he kept on talking and for some reason his phone didn't disconnect. So when I called him back, he said to the empty line, "hold on babe, I've got another call." And clicked over. When I answered he said, "What? how can this be you? Who've I been talking to?" hahaha. isn't that awesome? It's happened to everyone in some fashion but I just love that he said, "hold on babe, i've got another call." 



I had a nice talk with my Uncle Steve yesterday. He and my Aunt Jo and my other aunt and uncle came over for the afternoon. It was so fun to see them. Steve and I talked about storytelling, S. Africa, and school. He's a really good listener and he asked really great questions that I really enjoyed answering. We didn't get to really finish out conversation and before long they were heading home. He gave me a hug in Aunt Coke's garage and I was surprised that I was about cry. It just swelled out of nowhere and I had to take a minute before talking again. 

     I miss my family a lot but sometimes I feel so disconnected from them that I wonder what kind of connection we still have. And then moments like saying goodbye to Uncle Steve happened and I discover such a reservoir of emotions for my extended family. Even though it was sad, it was really nice to experience that. 



It's been really fun to be with Ranessa and Danae again. As kids we would spend weeks with each other, spending a couple nights at one house and then moving on to the other's house. It was so much fun. Ranessa has been so helpful and fun. She helped Amanda try to find salamanders. And today she volunteered to watch Sinead and Fiona while jen paul and I went into town. I told her Fiona's been wanting to find some frogs and turtles and so she's talking the girls down to the pond to find them. It's so sweet. there aren't that many people who are that accommodating to fun. I might have to take her back to Seattle with me. OOh! that's a good idea...



 

12:58PM

 I'm sitting in Village Variety right now in their breakroom drinking their coffee and using their wi-fi. I wasn't sure we would find any place that had wi-fi in town but lo and behold the town catch all store indeed has some. I'm also purchasing some yarn and hair bands and am thinking about a car air freshener-something in the shape of a tree or knowing Nebraska, in the shape of some deer antlers or a Huskers Football helmet (yes I did just capitalize the words "Husker Football"). 

It was one week ago that I left Seattle. We've been at my Aunt's house since Wednesday.  We were greeted with the kind of hugs that squeeze you, pull back look into your face, and squeeze you again. Amanda explained it as "It was a little awkward at first, but when the hug was over, i thought, 'man! that was a good hug.'" It's been fun to see how the family responds to Amanda. They laugh at her jokes and sometimes smile perplexed at something she's excited about (like frogs and deer). Everyone calls her "Manda" Grandpa refers to her as "how's your little friend doin? What she think of this country?" 

Mostly I've been wanting a little more twiddling my thumbs time, but I can hardly say I've wanted it more than I've wanted to sit and visit with Ranessa or Coke and Fred or even play 6 games of pingpong with Matt (We both won about 3 I think. I was kind of kicking his ass for while). There are times though, where my mind feels empty of what else to chat about. Being in school is sort of a lonely existence for me. Class/studying/commuting are all solitary events for  me and there were plenty of days were night would fall and i would realized I hadn't actually shot the shit with anyone. Or I would start talking to Rachael or Shaughn and would find it hard to stop talking and I'd think back to when it was that I last talked to someone just for fun and it would have been awhile. So I've looked forward to visiting with people...but I'm a shade out of practice at times. There's a pause in the conversation and I hope that they'll fill it, because I can't think of anything to say. 

Aunt Coke has given Amanda and I the royal treatment of lots of food, snacks, the comfy-est bed ever, a trip to Sioux Falls-lunch and dinner there-and taking us fishing last night with Uncle Fred and Ranessa and Matt. We didn't catch anything but we roasted hotdogs on a fire and drank Mountain Dew. 

I'm not quite in the blogging mode so my ideas are all over the place. I just bought some more yarn and to be honest, all i really want to do is rush home so I can finish the scarf i'm working on and make another for amanda. And I bought some really cool yarn for a hat. Oh man, the possibilities. I'm hoping to hone my skills so my friend Emily and I can go commercial. What's the point of a hobby if you can't capitalize on it? ("Christmas is run by a big eastern syndicate" after all--name that movie and you'll win a postcard).
 

5:17PM - GreyBull, Wyoming

 Amanda and I have just  landed ourselves in a little motel in Greybull, Wyoming. All of the thriftstore pictures on the wall have price tags. There was a Lipton Iced Tea hand towel in the bathroom and a showercap, sans pricetag as far as I could tell. Amanda promptly put it on and began to rock back and forth on the little wooden rocking horse yelling, "take my picture!" I can't even tell you what it smells like in here. It's a cross between my grandparents home and a secondhand shop, which it kind of is. They do have wi-fi, however, and Amanda and i haven't actually spoken to each other since we've connected. It's a little like making out in nearby beds....with the same person, if you can imagine.

We've been in the car for two days now. We've listened to miles of music and David Sedaris on cd. Even though we've stopped moving, i still feel like we are. It's like people who've been on a ship forever and they haven't their "land-legs" just yet. 

We started The Artists Way this morning writing our "Morning Pages". No offense but the words Morning Pages has the same kind of connotation to me as "contemporary christian music". It's nice but you kind of want to inflict a small amount of pain on a cute animal just to prove you're alive. I mean it has all these phrases like, "Welcome to Morning Pages. They will change you."  and "Morning Pages bring our hopes, dreams, fears and confusion into focus." And "Morning pages will make you wealthy and skinny" ok i made that last one up. 
    It's not that they aren't a great idea, it's just that i have a bad attitude. Especially about things that are supposed to "change me." I get defensive by the language thinking, "Who says I even need to change? huh buddy?" So pushy.

We had every intention of making it to yellowstone last night but after 10 hours of driving we were kind of tired and wanted to just find a motel and go to bed. So that's what we did. We went out to eat and we watched tv and fell asleep. It was nice. This morning we made it to Yellowstone but the campground we wanted to camp in was full, so we decided maybe we would just drive through the park and keep on our way East . So we made a small dent into tomorrow's travels. 
       Yellowstone was everything everyone has ever said. Completely magnificent. I was in a trance of beauty. Yesterday i came across the thought of how beauty makes me feel. It makes me feel sort of lonely and compelled to do something. Lonely because even if I'm with someone, my experience is still different. Compelled because, well I'm not sure, but I wondered if it's because that's what beautiful things do to people. We usually use words like, "inspired" and "moved"...and I don't think it really dawned on me that these words are action words. That we see things and then we feel like we have to respond somehow. I think i've always considered beauty something that came after being inspired. Like I wanted to draw something so I used this picture of the mountains. Which is a different thing than saying, "I saw the mountains and wanted to draw something." 
      Well today I saw snow on the mountains, and a forest of dying trees and even though they were near lifeless and I swear I'm not emo-they were beautiful. And I felt this overwhelming urge to do something. Write. Travel. Accomplish. But I also just felt so stuck. I don't know if I'm coming or going right now. And seeing the mountains today made me feel so sad. I was propelled foward without the legs to run on just yet. So i just sort of stuttered and fell. Amanda took pictures of her little finger puppet against a backdrop of cliffs and rivers. That helped me feel a little better.

Last night I texted Jen saying I was homesick but I wasn't sure what for. She said it was because i just left a home that isn't really home to go back to a home that isn't home anymore. It was pretty deep and not just for a text. 

Well this has been a good make out session, internet. But you need to slow down. I'm a good girl. I write the Morning Pages, for godsake.

7:43PM

Today I came home after work and after having a cigarette and a beer with Amanda, we cleaned the house together. It was like we were a family on a Saturday.

________________

There’s an old saying that says you can never go home. In a week Amanda and I will pack up my little car with a tent, shorts, and some snacks and head to sunny Nebraska where I grew up. The farm and the farmhouse I was raised in is still there though it doesn’t belong to us anymore. It’s just as well for my parents, but for me it sometimes feels like they sold my childhood from under my feet. Or like going to a closet for something that brings comfort and safety only to find that you had got rid of it during a time where you felt older and no longer needed the past. It’s as though I might be a culmination of my past and I am now missing part of myself.

I don’t think I’ve ever taken anyone home before. It’s just never come up. Partly because I seldom return myself. I’m not sure why she wants to go except that I’ve promised her sunshine, heat, and lawns to mow. I used to think I would visit anywhere, everything was an adventure and I was above needing flashy commercial entertainment. But it’s not like that for me anymore. I’ve slowed down some. I’ve realized there are things that I need in a destination. I need to feel like I can explore by myself and I need to have supportive company. I don’t know what Amanda needs in a vacation or why she wants to go home with me.

But I’m glad for the open space and I’m glad for the company.

I don’t really remember what it’s like to be around Amanda for a long period of time. We have altered in our habits, in what comforts us, in who we want to spend time with, and in what makes us feel independent and alive. We used to move in a rhythmic motion of inhaling and exhaling each other in small constant ways. A dance of sorts. But our synchronicity has lurched and what binds us is pulled and stretched in what are sometimes painful directions. Sometimes I’ve thought that what keeps us together would surely break. And it would be like selling my childhood.

But for reasons I’m not sure of, we have not faltered in our plans to go to the tiny rural community in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes it has felt comforting to know that there was at least that. And sometimes it has felt a little frightening-that she might decide not to go or even, that she would go.

I’m stealing her away. We will be miles from anything and frankly she has no where to go. She will have to be with me, and I possessively want to drink her in, to breath in a deep breath of her.

-Oh! I really wish I was in my childhood home. In the living room with the brown carpet and all those windows. What ever happened to that big tree outside the house where Mom and I saw that opossum. And our black fridge with the ice maker and water dispenser. And the kitchen tile. Oh god the kitchen tile. My room with the mauve carpet and a bunk-bed. Stuffed animals in a corner hammock thing.

But when we go back we will not stay in my old room, or watch movies in the living room with all those windows, or sit in wooden chairs on that kitchen tile. We’ll stay in my Aunt’s house that is new and open and soft and comfortable. Like my Aunt. And if we visit my old house, it will be for the duration of a glass of iced tea from the people who own it now. Because you can never go home. And Amanda and I might not learn how to dance again.

__________________

We make each other laugh. And we can still cry in front of each other. I stared at her for a moment and I didn’t know what she was thinking. And maybe she has changed and I’ve changed and things between us aren’t the same. But as I looked at her I recognized something so very familiar. Like when you actually find what you were looking for in that closet.

5:20PM

        About a week and half ago I woke up with some problems down yonder. So instead of a fun day with my boyfriend, I spent the morning at the dr's learning that I had a urinary track infection AND a yeast infection. Later that day, I got my period and surrendered to the absolute shittiness of the situation. I basically cried for the rest of the night and sent my boyfriend home so he and I could cut our losses before I accidentally died.

Things got better in the sense that my va-j-j recovered. But I'm still weepy. I leave for Africa in a week and two days and every time I say the words, "crying" or "weepy" as in "I feel a little weepy" I just automatically start crying. 

I've been trying to find a sub-leaser and haven't had that much luck. I met one girl who flaked out early last week. Last night since both of my roommates were gone so I asked my friend Aida to interview with me since I was nervous interviewing men by myself alone in the house. She came over, like the trouper she is (when she asked what time he was coming I said in about half an hour. She said, "Ok, i just wanted to know how quickly I needed to put on some pants). 
      So we  met with this guy, David. After jib-jabbering on about himself basically sounding like a singles ad he asked why there were so many oriental bars in Seattle. (Aida wondered out loud after he left, "bars with rugs?")  And when we suggested he check out capitol hill for bars he said he wasn't going to go there because it was just a bunch of gays who would hit on him. I tensed. Aida tensed. He said he had enough of "normal looking guys" hitting on him in prison. I just stared at him. I don't know what to stay to strangers who say things like this. If it was a friend, I would feel more propelled to say something like, "I beg your pardon?" with a raised eyebrow.  
      I looked at Aida. She said to David, "Do you like music?" David said he did. And Aida said, "Well you will miss out on a pretty cool music scene by worrying you are going to get hit on." Isn't she so great? All I could think of was, "You have a bad attitude David, and I don't really like you." 
     There was another guy who was supposed to call and come over last night. When the scheduled calling time came and went, I called him. He was like, 
"Well Hey melissa! How's it going? what are you doing?" 
"Uh well, Ty, not much. How was christmas shopping?" 
"Man, it was stressful. I'm at the bar now."
"Oh ok. Well I was just calling to tell you that whether or not you were still interested in seeing the place tonight I'm calling it a night."
"No yeah. that's fine. I'm probably not going to be getting out of here for awhile." 

hahaha

he told me to call HIM on Sunday to schedule a time to meet. Fat chance. This is the type of person you doesn't pay you on time and borrows things saying, "I'll get you the next time." Next time being something akin to seeing a unicorn or winning the lottery.

But I meet with more people on Sunday. I reposted my ad and I feel hopeful about the people who have responded so far. 

______________________
Today was my last day as Fiona and Sineady's nanny. They are both going to pre-school when I leave and will remain there when I get back. I'm more than a little taken aback about this. I cried about it earlier. And since I just wrote out the word "cried" i'm crying again. 

The girls have really been torn up about it. In fact Sinead threw a really fantastic fit earlier about whether or not the big stuffed dog she takes naps on should be in her room or not. Then Fiona told me, "I DON'T WANT TO BE WITH YOU! I WANT MOM!!!"  let it out girls, let it out. It was almost our own little Good Will Hunting moment. "It's not your fault, Fiona. It's not your fault." 
________________________

This might be a little dramatic but last night I woke up with diarrhea and this morning the button on my pants popped off. 

I have the sneaking suspicion that I'm going to get a second degree burn in a freak christmas tree fire or I'm going to grow a third nipple in my armpit. A stress nipple. 

8:11PM

 So last night I went dancing with Amanda. With armsful of ladies, we carpooled to the Lo-Fi and broke it down to funk music. It was pretty amazing. Before we even went to the Lo Fi we met at Skye's house. After Amanda said something rather brilliant I asked her if we could please be "just roommates". She choked on my vodka which I took to mean "yes." 

At the Lo Fi Annie, Kamala, Amanda and I exchanged glances every now and again and then made our way to the bar to have a shot of jager. It was intense. At some point amanda and I switched to $2 pbr. Amanda offered to buy mine, she was really excited about this because she had exactly $4 left. After she ordered she paused, laughed and said, "uh wait.." I cut her off to say, "yeah I got the tip." We giggled hysterically at the pleasure of finishing each other's sentences. I dropped my purse and she picked it up for me and said, "count your change, I think I got it all." I looked at her as if she was crazy because who knows how much change is in their purse? Something between 39 cents in pennies and $42 in quarters.

So we danced. And danced. I danced with everyone in my group. One woman and I took turns leading which basically made me willing to have her children. I danced with one guy and he was fabulous. I fell but recovered quickly into a lovely spin saying too loudly, "I'M OK!" 

Amanda wore a beautiful emerald green dress. Amanda doesn't really do dresses, which has always been a bit of a shame because she's really so lovely in them. Last night it became apparent why she's shied away from them. She can't help but hold her skirt up so nonchalantly like a 5 year old revealing her navy blue undies. There are pictures of this. Lots of pictures, I'm afraid. You might even be able to google them.

Some time around 2 am, right before last call, Amanda and i went to get another pbr. She stood next to the condiment tray and started popping olives like the thieving little monkey she is. I mean sometimes it was just blatantly in front of the bartenders. She asked if I wanted some and of course I did. So she started passing them to me. We moved on to the maraschino cherries. Sometimes she would pass them under the bar but not really. I laughed so much I was a little afraid I was going to throw up. 

In the trunk/back of our DD's car one girl had a mini break down and we all gave her really wonderful drunken advice. "NOooooo! You don't need to change! WE love you! you have to love you!" "That's right. you have to love you." "that's what ladies night is about!"




So the moral of the story is simple. More ladies nights.

6:21PM

well I'm a little depressed that my last entry only generated one comment of encouragement. What's that? It's just a blog not a therapist? Whatever. 

I'm not that excited about my South Africa class yet. It's weird. I'm excited about South Africa though! I just learned today that we might get to swim with penguins. 

Being busy has always come and gone for me. I can never really tell which I want--or if it's all about the pendulum swinging to somewhere inbetween. When I have nothing going on, I watch a lot of movies and tv shows on dvd. I feel mildly guilty about this. I don't go on nearly enough walks. I drink coffee and clean the house. Write a bit. Read a bit. Hang out with friends a lot. I shave my legs once a week and remember to moisturize and floss my teeth.  When I'm busy with school, well I'm whirled from here to there. My room gets really messy and starts to leak out into the living room. I feel sort of important. I get tired and realize how much I love to sleep-and i will do it at 9pm. I take short cuts. I miss out on my people's lives. I take in a lot information. I feel empowered to change the world. I feel depressed that my time is not my own. I smoke a lot of cigarettes. I ask for alcohol and money for my birthday because those are the only two things I can imagine wanting. I put body soap in my bathwater and read hoping just sitting there counts as getting clean. I deeply resent people with free time. I write really bad papers. I write really awesome papers. 

it's hard to say

Last week in class, my English prof said something brilliant (as she's often known to do) and I whispered to Emily, "that's a really good point." Seeing me move my mouth, the professor asked what I had to say. I looked at her with deer in the headlight eyes. "Uh. well I was just telling Emily here that that was a really good point." everyone laughed and I blushed. It was terrible. Whenever I'm put on the spot I have no option but to say what was just in my head. But the next class I said approximately 3 brilliant things and wrote an amazing paper. Redemption is so sweet. I've been trying to think of a reason to go talk to my professor because I think she's just so incredible. Major intellectual crush. 

Well I've skipped out on reading for my paper to write this. I'm going to get back to work. My writing is improving being back in school. I promise that it is. Hopefully over thanksgiving break I'll polish up the short story I wrote this summer and post it. :-) In the meantime, try to be a little more prompt on your responses kids. I'm fragile. Well fragile-ish. 

5:47PM - South Africa with the jocks

 Well so I have a lot of reading to do for tomorrow and a paper I could write. We get to chose about writing one for tuesday or thursday. I might go ahead and wait for thursday. Meh. Foucault is hard to read, i say. I always have trouble reading the required reading in my English classes. I'm not sure I will ever be an English academic. 

So I had my first class today with the people I will be traveling to South Africa with. It was sort of scary. We had to introduce ourselves and I feel like I gave myself the most boring introduction ever. "Hi my name is melissa. I'm from Nebraska originally, but I've lived in Seattle for the last 3 years. I came here via the east coast and florida. I'm a junior English major, I'm interested in South Africa because I want to gain a new perspective and travel is really important to me. hmmm let's see. I also like to watch movies and i have a roommate who works at a video store so she's like my own private Netflix. I don't know what else to say...i think that's it." 
lame
And then the leader explained that this was a bit of an experiment of mixing scholarship athletes with regular students. And you should see these athletes. I mean for one, they are huge and really tall. And they all know each other which is also intimidating. They listen to rap and have smart-allecky things to say all the time. I hate that. I mean for one, I used the word, "via" in my introduction and I can guartan-goddamn-tee you that did not win me any social brownie points. There's so much testosterone in the air I think I sprouted chest hair. Where are my emo hippy people? The lanky nerdy types who smell? The funny loud mouths who on occasion drink too much? I mean these are my kind of people. 
I'm going to stick with it but I have to alter my vision of being one of the "cool" kids. Instead I'm hoping for-at best-to be one of the funny fringe girls. Not the first one you sit by, or the one you hope to sleep with, but the girl you cry to and ask info about the other people. And I'll just say it, the one who writes the best essays. Because she has no friends to hang out with!!


Alright. Let's hear some pep talk people!

8:29PM

Well I start school on Wednesday. I will be taking three classes. 

The first is Spanish which is exciting. I'm a little nervous as it's been at least two years since I've spoken bad Spanish and I can't imagine that it's gotten any better no matter how much Corona I drank this summer. 

The second class is Critical Practice. Which as the name would imply is where I learn how to criticize properly. And we will practice until we get it right. We only read two books for the whole quarter so I can just imagine that we're going to be reading loads of criticism on these two books and somewhere at the very end of the class we'll be allowed to form an opinion of our own. Although most likely I won't have one. I'll just spend large portions of these papers explaining what my opinion isn't. 

The third class is a Port Elizabeth, South Africa pre-departure seminar. It's pre-departure meaning before I depart to SOUTH AFRICA!!!!! There is a winter quarter program there through UW. It's centered around cultural identity. It's writing intensive with a lot of touchy feely assignments like "Write about who you are..." so basically everything I could want in a program. I get to write about myself and spend 10 weeks living in a beach front flat in South Africa. We will be volunteering at different places and writing about our experiences. A lot of our work is on our own which is also enticing as I'm almost 25 and too old to be told what to do. It's not unlike the last 10 years of my life. 
    But seriously, it's really exciting. I'll leave in January and be back mid-march. There's a lot of details to iron out. Like, I need a subleaser and a plane ticket and a big bag to pack Amanda in. These things don't just work themselves out. You have to pack enough worry on it, until the weight makes them flat. And wrinkle free. 

In other news. Well I don't have any. I've been laughing out of control the last couple days. Even mildly funny things sent me into guffaws of hard-to-breathe proportions. It's a little annoying. And today I finally finished Stranger Than Fiction and basically sobbed through the last twenty minutes. And then got really really mad that I couldn't find my cumin while making taco meat. Like throwing things around mad. Well soon after I got a headache which I figured was because I had popped a vessel in the brain or something. Instead shortly after I started bleeding from a much lower venue. And I'm awfully tired today. 

I'm drinking that airborne stuff and generally taking it easy before school starts and I can't be whiny and lazy. As much.

3:51PM

"Mom-Dad, I don't know how to tell you this, but I've got six months to live." 

*Pause* 

"Just kidding! I'm only gay." 


-Steel Magnolias


I've been trying an approach similiar with the girls. 
Fiona: Can I see mom?
Me: Yes--as soon as she's out of the shower.
Fiona: WAAAAAIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
Me: Stop that or you won't get to see your mom at all!!
___________________


We've been potty training Sineady and when I think it's about time for her to be pooping somewhere I sit her on the potty and i read her stories. Today Fiona asked me to do something right as Sinead was getting on the potty. I told Sinead I would be right back and just as I was coming back she said, "Mis! YOU GET IN HERE AND HELP ME POOP IN THE POTTY!"

__________

Two blocks away from the car, the girls were both too tired to walk. I didn't want to carry them. So I sat them down and over a handful of cat cookies I asked what some possible solutions could be. Sinead yelled, "NOOOOOoooo!" and put her head down. I said, "So sinead's solution is yelling no. What's yours fiona?
       After Fiona and I talked out what we wanted to do, I asked Sinead again if she had an idea she wanted to share. She said, "My so-WOO-tion is yewWING NO!" 
_________

I met Bobby, Annie, and Brad (?) at my old local bar, Clever Dunnes, for trivia night. I wore my t-shirt with the periodic table of the elements. It's my "smart" shirt. And lo and behold one of the questions was which element's symbol is Fe. Iron. I already knew it was iron, everyone knew it was iron. But everyone also want to touch iron. It was like the game where the gophers pop up and you have to keep knocking them down. There were all these pointing fingers edging in. Whap whap whap. 

_________

Fiona asked me to read her a story and I asked if maybe she wanted to watch me dance to Sinead O'Connor instead. 
"No mis."
I kept dancing and turned around shaking my booty in what I can only imagine as a sight to behold. I looked back at her and she was looking at me with her eyes half closed in a look of pathetic boredom--as in Melissa you are pathetic and it bores me. 
I stopped dancing and went to get a book. She yelled after me, "Why were you shaking your booty at me!!!!!" 
I yelled back, "I was DANCING!" 
and she gave her Marge Simpson disappointed growl. 

tough crowd.

9:50PM - a quick note on basketball

Before I tuck into bed and watch my newest impulse purchase-Hoosiers--I thought I would write a little note about my brother, Jacob. What, Jacob? not the b-ball playa natedog? No, this one's about my biggest brother, Jacob. 

Now the story is a little hazy as I was probably 11 when it happened. In the small town of Spencer, NE there were certain things that went on but you didn't talk about them too loudly less the holy rollers heard about them. Or the police. Or in this case, the school board. For some reason, a person I don't remember took with them a video camera to a party. Not a small digital camera because those weren't even invented yet. it would have had to have been a big honking camera that had a big padded black bag that went with it and you recorded onto vhs tapes. And for another reason I was never told, the vhs with the party footage was shown to some school official. Four of the five starters on the boys basketball team were seen on this camera drinking. Lots of people in my small town drank but you weren't really allowed to talk about it. A rule so strictly adhered that the same person who bought you beer would be the same person saying drinking was foolish behavior among highschoolers and if he ever caught one of them drinking he'd kick their ass into the next county (we are a loyal bunch so being in another county was seen as a really bad thing). Anyway, my point is, 4 of the starters got put on probation for 21 days which is a lot of time to miss in a basketball season. My brother, Jacob, not being one of those 4 got a big promotion, if you will (see how this story couldn't have been about Nate?). 

Jacob was a star. I mean it. He was about the most amazing player ever. Of course I only ever paid attention to him but my ability to focus on more than one person was and always will be a bit shoddy (in fact I always dated a football player during football season just so I could have someone specific to look at). 

Even without four of their starters the team was having a really great season. One game and I think it was a really important one, the game went into overtime. Three times. It was tense. I was 11 and holding hands with some kid I hardly knew. My voice was horse. My veins were bulging. Many of the players had fouled out. Jacob, somehow hadn't (I mean he knew how to throw a good elbow around--"no fouls means no defense" that's what he always said). During the third overtime, my brother got fouled at the buzzer. The game was tied. When a player is fouled at the buzzer, he has to take his freethrows by himself because there's no hope for a rebound. So there he was, standing all alone at the freethrow line. Everyone else was past the half court line. Staring. Everyone was staring at Jacob. I could hardly stand it. He got two shots. The first shot arched in the air and looked like money. I was cheering as soon as it left it hands because it just had to be. But it bricked and bounced dramatically away. Last shot. He shoots, he leans to the left, the ball bounces first on the right side of the rim, and then the left, and the back, kisses the backboard and swooshes threw the net. Game won. 


Isn't that a great story? Seriously, I wish you all could have been there. It was about the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me at 11. And probably was the most exciting until 17. 

______________

on another note: no one makes me laugh like Rachael. 
and another: what is a Hoosier?

1:40PM

I just licked my thumb and smudged something off of 2 year old Sinead's face. When I was finished I looked up in thought and made the kind of face that suggests something that just happened was a little off. Then I shrugged like, "yeah I just licked my finger and rubbed it on someones face." Sinead just said, "ugh!"
       I remember when I was probably around 7 I had something on my face and for some reason I asked Jen to get it off. Actually I'm not sure if I asked or if I was even troubled by it. Maybe Jacob or Nate told Jen to take care of it. Either way-something was on my face that shouldn't be there. Jennifer (she was Jennifer back then) took a paper towel and spit on it! As she moved the saliva soaked Bounty toward my face I remembered thinking, "No big deal she's my sister," but right before it touched my skin I jerked away and said, "EWH! NO!! DON'T DO IT!" 
       Jennifer's face sort of slackened into the disgusted "You've got to be kidding/" face (which later became the "Honestly Paul" face.) Usually I was up for any sort of intimacy my siblings would give: lighting small, harmless fires in the basement; pet names like doorknob and tub-o; throwing dust busters and slapping each other; tickling until my stomach bled.  But for some reason Jennifer's spit just seemed too far. Not that I hadn't on several occasions licked my own skin rearranging the hair on my arm pretending I was a cat. I knew I had a high tolerance for gross and this made me feel bad that I didn't want Jennifer's spittle smeared on my face. Jennifer said something to the effect of you'll let me do this and you'll like it or i'll slay you with my 2 inch nails. I nodded like "Sure! I don't know what came over me, forgive me" but said, "ugh!" 
_________

In our little bungalow our bathroom window is level with our neighbors' kitchen window. When we first moved in sometimes, while brushing my teeth or washing my hands, I'd look out to see what new picture our neighbors had on their fridge but would instead see one of my neighbors. They never directly look at me but they startled me nonetheless. Several times I've almost thrown my toothbrush in the air and ducked down yelling "AGHHHH!!! DON'T LOOK!!"  which of course would have made them stare.  And I would have to wave my hand above the window and yell, "No no! it's fine!"
      Eventually I got used to seeing them go in and out of their kitchen. And I took a few more risks. Forgetting a towel and jumping out of the bathtub to grab one. Going number 2 with the window down. They became something more like the Truman Show or two people at a red light in their separate cars. We can see each other but it's okay to pretend we can't.
      The neighbors have invited us over to barbecue several times. We've returned the invites. But neither of us have ever actually gone over to the other's house. Last Saturday, with one of the neighbors gone, Rachael mentioned that we should barbecue with them sometime. Then she subtly suggested it to the remaining neighbor. "Hey! Are you going to start the grill up tonight?" He said he wasn't and after chatting awhile he changed his mind. He even offered to make us hamburgers. Rachael and I said we'd contribute some things to the meal and we had an impromptu picnic on his garage roof. Later we invited him to play cards with us and our friend Bobby (who also partook of the meal). 
      We had a fine time with our neighbor, Cole. 
      The next day as I got up from the toilet and was about to wash my hands I saw Cole in the kitchen. This time I think he saw me! I gasped and leaned against the wall until I was sure he was gone. Then I lowered the shades and washed my hands. Now that I sort of know Cole, it's too weird to pretend I don't see him in the kitchen making a sand which while I brush my teeth or defuse my hair. We're no longer in our own car we are something else. Like on the same bus. I like that we know him, but as the shades flopped down with a sound that makes me think of "middle age" I quietly muttered, "Ugh."

1:04PM

     So I can receive calls, I just can't do anything else. Including read texts. I can see that i have 6 texts. But no one's left a message for me since Sunday. Isn't that a little weird? Amanda said she just didn't believe it and wasn't going to try.

      I drove by a man with a sign today that said something like, "I never thought I would be here but God humbles every man." It made me think of sort of wanting to be humbled in highschool and this man from church made a scary noise like, "oh you don't want that." But I did. In the sense that I wanted to experience something awesome that was outside of myself. But this guy made it sound like humility was simply feeling like shit after you thought you were really great. I'm not sure why, but a lot of Christians I knew growing up saw it as a bad sign if you were feeling good. Like feeling good was some sort of hubris and we all knew that "pride goeth before the fall." So if we could avoid feeling good maybe we could avoid falling, i suppose was the idea.
      My physic professor this last quarter said that it is important to go through life with exuberance and humility. This is more what i had in mind when i hoped for humility as a teenager. Not sitting on the side of a road with a sign. (Not that i mean anything snarky about this man's sign.)

I saw the video of Rachael and Per's wedding the other day. It was about the most unnerving thing in the world to watch myself talk. My friend, Christin, once told me that my stumbling phrases and mispronounced words were part of my charm. At that time, I was so humiliated thinking that it happened so often to be called a trait of mine. Watching the video I heard myself say, "misunderstoods" Amanda had asked me later if that was what she wrote down and i said I had no idea because remembered nothing. I wish I could have kept it that way. But no, here I was, on tape, saying misunderstoods. It makes me want to get all new friends who know nothing about this.  

1:20PM

I had just made a hot cup of tea and set it next to the couch. I was watching my newest obsession, The Sopranos. I shuffled around to get comfortable when I heard something fall off the couch. I looked down at the floor and saw nothing out of the ordinary. I looked back at the tv but thought, "no i swear something fell" and looked down again. My cup of tea looked funny. Something was in it. Something rectangular. MY PHONE! Luckily I had been drinking wine all afternoon so I was only slightly disappointed by the whole thing. I fished it out, dried it off, took out the battery and sim card and set it out to dry. My attitude was something like, "Well damn. Huh." I drank the tea vaguely wondering if I could be electrocuted and pushed play on the Sopranos. Tony Soprano wouldn't freak out over a broken phone and neither would I. Tony would probably just kill someone who had a better phone.

I took the nieces to the zoo today. Some little kid was loudly telling everyone that the little elephant had died. Fiona and I talked about it wondering how it might have died. She thought maybe it had ate too much and some of the hays were bad. Or he drowned at the water hole. I told her those were good guesses. Every few minutes she would bring up the elephant "I'm just so sad it's dead, mis. I miss it" and "I can't stop thinking about that poor elephant. can we talk about how it died?" and we'd guess the same things.
As we left she said, "I just wish nothing would die."
I told her everything dies and she said, "I KNOW! I just WISH everything wouldn't."
"Yeah," I told her, "I hear ya."

Yesterday for the duration of a cigarette it rained really hard. I sat on the porch and puffed away enjoying everything about the rain. Its smell, its bouncibility, its sound. I thought about going out and running in it and splashing in the puddles on the street. I've done this thing before and what happens is nothing like the Shawshank Redemption scene i have in mind. I usually get wet, cold, and sort of bored. It's like when I go out to eat by myself and bring a book. I imagine it being so fun and relaxing. So mature. It's perfect while i'm waiting but when my food comes it's always uncomfortable trying to keep my book open and read while eating. I end up abandoning the book and just looking around bored and listless like a girl who's trying to hide the fact that she's been stood up.
I've become someone who needs to be entertained 98% of the time. I go to fold my 10 articles of clothing and think, "oh man. what am i going to listen to or watch while I'm doing this? I better go get something."
It's not the fear of being alone or trying to avoid thinking about something painful...it's just, well, the fear of keeling over in boredom. It's silly and makes me feel a little gross but there it is. dance monkey dance!!!

Not this past Easter but the Easter before we had a gathering at Jen and Paul's in the old MTLK. Rachelle and Paul C brought a fancy egg dying kit where you, well i don't know, burn on designs with the juice of a fig and a splinter of the original cross (the OC if you will). Paul C made a fancy one and left it for us. It's still in our library on a shelf. It was a regular fresh egg, i'm not ever sure we boiled it. So. Why doesn't it smell? Has the white and yolk been replaced with something in the dyeing process? IS it full of holiness now? I mean it weighs about the same...