seasons greetings!

dear family, friends, and other interested parties:

did you know that in england they say, "happy christmas?" i know that because i've seen the harry potter movies. to those of you who only see the movies but don't read the books: i am so far ahead of you in the story ... i totally could ruin it right now, but i won't ... because it's christmas.

anyway! because i'm not british i'll go with a simple: merry christmas! i hope this holiday season is everything you're wishing for and more. i also hope you're able to celebrate this incredibly cold time of year with your loved ones ... opening presents, drinking eggnog, and getting in those stupid little arguments with your family over things that happened on previous christmases that no one really remembers anyway because of all the vodka. ah, tradition ...

we've been through a lot this year ... weddings, babies, funerals, relocations, spa days, happy hours, reunions, road trips, resignations. on second thought, you've been through a lot this year. in most cases, i was merely a casual observer and may have offered commentary. what have i done this year? that's a good question.

i have no major life events to report at this time. things have been relatively quiet. i didn't buy another house or another car. nor did i move again or change job roles as much as i have in the past. however, i did get my oil changed so many times this summer that john from firestone stopped trying to convince me to apply for a credit card. also, i stripped the wallpaper from my office walls, leaving only the frog ... for now ... and i watched the olympics. a lot.

2004 provided me with a lot of life lessons that i have no intentions of sharing because i'm so much younger than you are, and you should know them by now.

ok, i just realized that i have absolutely nothing to write about if i don't share what i've learned ...

• you don't have to get your hair done for every formal event you attend; however, it's necessary if you're in a wedding. also, small-town stylists typically do the best job and for half the price of what it'll cost you in the city.
• cooking a turkey is a cinch.
• don't make eye contact.
• if you're going on a road trip with zoey, put your luggage in the back of the truck and let her have the back seat. this way, she's most likely to sit for longer periods of time, making you less nervous. also, go with two dramamine tablets and the short leash.
• you might think glasses are fine, but ... seriously ... get contacts. otherwise, you’ll be pouring those five years right down the drain.
• everyone likes "the apprentice." people who say they don't just haven't given it a chance.
• it's always better when aaron flies up to go to the movie opening with you.
• wow. i really need to wash my car.
• some people just suck, and there's nothing you can do about it.
• if you don't live in the snow belt, there's really no reason to put your sunglasses away in the winter.

and there you have them ... my 2004 highlights. please feel free to peruse the archives to learn even more of the details from the year. there's some funny stuff in there, if i do say so myself. (have you read the santa poem?) there's also some less funny stuff.

in closing, i'd like to again wish you the best this holiday season ... and don't forget that if you want to give the gift of convenience and excellent customer service, everyone on your list is sure to love a Wawa gift certificate. is there a more perfect present? it's really all you need.

be good!

-jody :)

my relationship with carbohydrates

in the beginning, there were peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches. you're going to eat them both anyway. why not just put them together? besides, the chips help to alleviate some of the sticky mouth issues related to peanut butter while at the same time provide a little crunch and texture.

then there were mashed potatoes with both lunch and dinner every day of the week. on the rare occasion that they were excluded from the menu, there was a baked potato bar. and a pasta bar. with accompanying bread. for the sauce, you know.

then there were things like tuna noodle casserole, hamburger helper, chinese takeout, chocolate chip cookies, lipton italian sides, and red robin.

last week, there was soup. lots and lots of soup. you might call it "oodles." there was also turkey soup (guess where that came from). but it wasn't frozen with noodles, so you had to make them separately. there was a loaf of toast. and one bagel.

why are we afraid of carbohydrates? here's your answer:

oprah.

that's right, oprah.

what other media mogul has captured our attention and our hearts as much as oprah? this is the woman who is the model of all charity. her favorite things are expensive trinkets that you'll get as your next hostess gift. and, as much as it makes my skin crawl (which is a lot, by the way), her name is emblazened on the cover of "East of Eden" ... above steinbeck's.

hang on ... i need to regroup.

she's the voice of women across the country. poor women, famous women, sexually molested women, women with poor decorating taste, mothers, daughters, friends, heroes, singers, marathon runners, john travolta. she made jury duty famous and probably has some pretty serious political views, but i don't know anything about them because one of our primary fascinations with oprah is her weight.

for years we've watched her own personal struggle with yo-yo diets. but look at her now! smiling on the cover of every month's edition of "O" magazine. how can she do that? she probably cut out the carbs. and if it's good enough for oprah, it's good enough for everyone else. she's a beacon, for crying out loud!

is her name on the cover of atkins' diet book? how 'bout the south beach diet? dunno ... i've been busy reading other things. and eating popcorn.

credit where credit is due

[the following poem is based on actual events. i'd like to thank mandy for being a constant source of inspiration and denise for her unswerving devotion to making things rhyme.]


christmas in the suburbs

a position of quiet dignity,
you travel to the ends each year and back.
your legend lingers through infinity;
devoted fans are nothing that you lack.

a tribute to you stands next door to mine.
they hung their christmas lights way back in june,
the neighbors are a clan of tacky swine.
who else around dec'rates with a spittoon?

your sculpture's meant to stand fully upright,
with head held high and proud above the sleigh.
alas! your eyes are low to a termite!
a pump with air your troubles would allay.

tol'rate such abuse you shouldn't hafta.
my heart goes out. oh, deflated santa!

i'm a star!

i'd officially like to welcome debi's multimedia class to the mix. from what i've gathered, they were forced on board sometime after my incredibly accurate explanation of the origination of thanksgiving.

i'm about 87% sure that none of you are still reading, but to those of you who decided to stick around for just one more minute: you rock! i can't say that you rock more than mandy and the newly-converted patriot-loving brad (how can you blame him, really?), but there's plenty of time to prove yourselves.

i'll even do my part and step up to the plate a little more often. you might not be reading, but a 13% chance that you are is a ... mild ... motivator.

anyway! welcome! do you even believe that the title and first three paragraphs start with the same letter? have you ever met such a narcissist? damn.

oh! check out debi's new blog. :)

in the news

ok ... here's the headline that makes you consider pawning ... or simply trashing ... all of your lava lamps (oh, come on, don't act like you don't have one. no one believes it.):

Exploding Lava Lamp Kills Washington Man

... and here's the subhead that clears your worries and reminds you that people are inherently stupid:

Shard of glass pierces victim's heart after lava lamp heated on stove.

here's the whole story. it's a short one, but definitely worth the read. the police, too, are baffled. imagine that.

a short commentary on the regenerative powers of my thumb

you know ... given the opportunity, i think i could eat twice zoey's weight in mashed potatoes and gravy.

so, this is thanksgiving, huh? it's not so bad. frankly, i don't think i would have noticed it if not for the parade and the 37-cent/pound turkey. and the house guests. had it not been for those hints, i might have jumped directly into the christmas season with a quick nod to halloween and no regard for autumn whatsoever. kind of like target.

however, the constant reminders to buy turkey and bread kept me mostly on track. mina told me to go home early wednesday and enjoy the nice, long weekend. it wasn't until the next day that i remembered why all that was happening. oh, yeah ...

why do we celebrate thanksgiving, anyway? well, i'll tell you.

a long, long time ago, a species of humans known as "pilgrims" who were infamous for wearing black clothes, big hats, and belt buckles decided they were better off sailing over the edge of the earth than they were in england. i've never been there, but i've heard things about the food.

as it turns out, they did not sail over the edge. nor did they land in texas ... although they could have because texas was really, really big back then. but, no ... they hit some other state.

anyway! after an exceptionally slow disembarkation that caused most pilgrims to miss their flights to warmer climates, they built a football stadium for their world championship football team and then began spreading out and settling more colonies along the east coast because, really, what's the point if you're not within two hours of a beach?

cozy now, and with professional football, the pilgrims decided they were in as good a position as any to begin giving thanks to someone ... maybe god ... maybe bob kraft ... certainly not gary bettman ... for sports and turkey. they also thanked whoever it was for allowing them to live in a country that was far from tyranny seeing as they could now sue anyone at will for any minor incident, thereby severely watering down the term used in most countries as "law."

and then, after discovering the art of twisting meanings for the good of the one, they ran all of the american indians off their native land because they wanted to build malls in which they could run up billions of dollars of credit card debt all in the name of christmas. soon enough, the american indians recognized the brilliance in the plan and established shops of their own that eventually flourished because they didn't charge tax. talk about fulfilling the american dream.

so, as you can see, the true meaning of thanksgiving is still very much alive ... thanks mostly to retailers, lawyers, john madden, and paul prudhomme. how can we not give most of the thanks to the man who invented the turducken?

if it can be bought online, you are so getting one for christmas.

p.s. i cut my thumb while i was washing dishes yesterday and it still stings like hell. it wasn't even that bad a cut.

*sigh*

i've lost you, haven't i? you've given up on me.

of course i'm not mad ... after all, it's my own fault. i've shot myself in the foot once again. i'm my own foreshadowing joan osborne song. how ironic.

maybe someday you'll find your way back. somehow, i have.

but the good news is that i've bought nothing today.

enough is enough is enough

i don't know where i heard it. it was either the voice in my head that i've been trying to shut out, or my LaunchCast player. regardless, the voice, which was deeper than usual and that leads me to believe it was not "the" voice, said, "november 23rd is Buy Nothing Day."

you know what? it was LaunchCast. "Buy Nothing Day" is also the name of a song.

god, that takes a weight off.

so, what a great idea, huh? Buy Nothing Day. because that's pretty much what it takes to keep me from spending money. actually, here's a list of things that can contribute to keeping me from spending money:

• self restraint. obviously, this is unreliable.
• a conscious decision, which is marginally more reliable because it leads to...
• guilt. this will keep me from doing absolutely anything. always a powerful tool against me if you know how to wield it properly. many people do not.
• decrees by chumbawumba. this is a new category. initial results are pending.

by the time i wake up tomorrow morning, i will have made up rules about the day (see the bit about self restraint) in order to compensate for "what-ifs."

what if that's the day my car payment is due? well, it's not so i don't have to worry about it. mortgage either. and i can schedule my online payments for the 22nd or 24th.

what if i want a snickers bar from the vending machine? remember when i was in brownies for like 4 days? i made a pin cushion that said "be prepared." so i guess i can get a snickers ahead of time and lock it in the cabinet. i guess that also means i have to either not eat lunch, get someone who isn't celebrating Buy Nothing Day to pay, or bring it with me. *gasp!*

what if kohl's is having a one day only sale? i guess i'm just going to have to suck that one up.

what if denise wants to go to happy hour? tomorrow’s a tuesday, so i don't exactly see that happening. but if it does, i guess we just make sure the folks who pay on wednesday are there early.

now i’m all psyched up about it. it’s good to have goals, right? that’s what they tell me at work. i don’t actually have any … that are documented … or have anything to do with my job … which is why i wake up with pink slip expectation every morning; therefore, Buy Nothing Day may actually start a healthy pattern: save money for the day the expectation is met.

yay me!

had to be there

i was at my grandmother's house and for some reason zoey couldn't be anywhere but in the middle of the street. i threw buckets and buckets of water on her and she still wanted to jump on grandma.

the next thing i knew, i was in a classroom full of 7-year-olds, waiting for my turn to give a presentation. all the kids were phenomenal and i was at my wit's end with nervousness. finally, it was my turn. i stood up (as i'd been sitting in one of those miniature plastic chairs that 7-year-olds sit in ... you know what i'm talking about) and went to the front of the class.

boy, were they small. the moment i noticed a microphone in my hand was the moment i decided to do a stand-up routine. i don't remember what my first joke was, but a kid in the front had a question. i answered it. everyone laughed.

another question. i answered that one, too. i was on a popularity roll.

then a hand went up in the back and the guy dressed like an indian started, i'm not kidding, grilling me about "brine on the floor of the school busses." suddenly i'm the school board? i tried to answer ... really tried ... everyone had stopped laughing and having fun. i couldn't come up with a satisfying answer. i was drowning.

it was that dream again where i jump in the pool and, as i'm swimming to the surface, realize something has my ankle. i'm close enough that my hands are in the air, but i just can't go any further.

panic set in then i heard the national anthem.

see, what happened was the phone rang at 5.30 and ended the peaceful sleep i'd been enjoying. for a moment, i thought it was rob actually being serious, and he was going to hear about it ... but it turned out to be a wrong number, and, apparently, i didn't quite recover.

damn that brenda! and i'm not george chapman either ... so if you work for student loan services, please give it a rest.

on the rocks

are you serious? it's been a week since i wrote anything? wow. i suck at this.

but while i'm here, i'll give you a quick update on my work of art whose title only mandy and i know because she's the only one checking up on me. actually, she probably doesn't remember the title either. luckily, i have a general idea.

so, after a dedicated week of working by day and hanging out at bailey's, friday's, and sharky's by eve, i've managed to produce just over a thousand words. this leaves me with 22 days to write 49,000 more.

i am so ... far behind.

it's sad really. it's like getting all psyched to climb a mountain, buying all the gear, getting trained, notarizing the will, and then deciding after 15 feet that you're afraid of heights.

i'll hang where i am for a while longer ... maybe i'll make a little progress in the next few days. there's still time.

right?

let's try that again

you're not safe.

and neither are scores of unsuspecting, random strangers.

remember that kid at o'charley's last week who was making that noise and staring at denise? he's included.

i wasn't going to say anything about it, but if i'm going to crash and burn, why not do it semi-publicly? it's that whole "if a tree falls in the woods" kind of thing. if it doesn't make a sound, then that poor tree has wasted its time and energy in falling flat on its face and will end up all alone in a quiet forest with no one to either help it back up or to taunt its downfall. (no pun intended.)

soooooooo …

it's national novel writing month! and i’d like to take this opportunity to let you know that as of today i’m considering every interaction i've ever had as well as every interaction you’ve ever had that you’ve told me about, even in passing, as fodder for my novel.

that funny thing that happened to you on that trip that one time all those years ago with those people and then that other thing happened? yeah. it's as good as documented.

don’t worry … all names and significant details will be changed … not so much to protect us all, but mostly so i can easily fictionalize things and make them end the way i want.

because it’s all about me.

ha!

anyway! as no one other than myself recalls, i failed miserably last year. of the 50,000 words, i managed to fall embarrassingly short. 30K? come on ... i can do better ... i will do better.

look at me being all optimistic. that'll change.

ok, i’m off to stare at a blank screen for a few minutes before diving in. at least this time i’ve already thought up more than one primary character. if you have any inclination to check on me, you may do so here. keep those expectations in check ...

the message i just sent to XM ... i'll never get a response

hello!

i love my XM radio. i take it with me everywhere. how i used to go on long road trips without it, i have no idea.

however, while i was listening yesterday afternoon, during a quick "station identification," channel 22 played a mcdonald's commercial. sure, it was maybe 2 seconds long, but it was clearly a plug for mcdonald's ... and it clearly cut in to XM's "100% commercial free music" promise.

i don't like mcdonald's, and i don't associate anything positive with that company. it probably paid a hell of a lot of money to get even a short ad on an XM station, but as an XM listener, i couldn't help but feel ripped off. don't XM customers pay a hell of a lot of money to listen to commercial-free music? i guess we don't pay quite as much. i don't plan on cancelling my service or anything, but now i'm not so excited about paying even more for XM Online.

maybe it was a fluke. maybe XM is selling out. maybe i'm just pissed off that the patriots lost to the fucking steelers ... the steelers! what kind of a world do we live in? i don't know. i just wanted to express my disappointment in a short note that i'm sure no one will read. but it makes me feel better nonetheless. :)

thanks!
-jody

frankly, i don't enjoy being this close to you

i can't eat while i'm driving. that's why driving thru isn't an option when you're in my car ... well, that's one of the reasons why. the other is that you're messy with ketchup and greasy food. yes, you.

i also can't sleep on a plane, which explains ... well, absolutely nothing. now i know that i can't read in airports either. why? i'll tell you:

a.) i might see someone i know. i could be in AMA, CHS, FPO, OGG, MEM, RFC ... hell, it could be TKK (ha!) ... regardless, location doesn't matter. there's a familiar face somewhere, and i'm not going to miss it. for example: there goes larry the contractor. i know you don't believe me, but it's true. onward ...

b.) just about everyone is attractive from a distance and i want to know if they still look that good at fifteen feet ... 93% of the time they don't. it really is an amazing phenomenon, tho. that guy back there? totally hot. up here? eh. it's mostly disappointing, but if you spend an extended period of time looking at people who are far away, you'll convince yourself that this is a damn beautiful city ... except for that woman who's trying to run in those shoes ... and that guy, who ... come on ... how can anyone possibly be that goofy?

c.) andrew stone, please report to doorway B3.

d.) andrew stone, please report to doorway B3. this is your final call.

e.) delta flight 5738 paging passenger andrew stone. your flight is ready for departure. please report to doorway B3 immediately.

f.) people are watching me. i'm sure of it. if i'm passing the time looking at them, then there's no way i'm invisible. i can't be ignorant to that. i once read that everyone is someone else's weirdo. i can't be ignorant to that either.

g.) here i come! hold on! i'm here!

h.) sorry, mr. stone. you're too late.

i.) what?

j.) your plane is gone. i'll help you make other arrangements ... and i'm going to personally walk you to the gate.

k.) as aaron always points out, standby is a game. i'm just glad i beat the bald guy in flip flops and don't have to spend the nite in EWR. marc says it smells like feet there ... denise doesn't have much to say about it beyond, "i know, i know ... aaron told me so." (she often speaks in rhyme ... or when she shouldn't. hi denise!)

looks like we're boarding. this is the best part. i especially like watching over-traveled people stand in the passengers-traveling-with-small-children-can-board-first line. who's surprised that the guy wearing the texas flag is going to IAH?

yeah, me either.

a pox on us all

contaminated. that's what they say. the british makers of vaccinations managed to either sneeze in a lab they shouldn't have been allowed admittance to in the first place or they brought their kids to work, and ruined it for the rest of us.

i never got a flu shot until i moved to virginia. i let my co-workers talk me into it because they'd pretty well proven that everyone who's transplanted into the commonwealth develops serious allergies ... so when they said, "you need to get a flu shot," i went with it. in the first 6 months that i knew finetta, she went from allergy-free to being allergic to everything from dander to cockroaches.

when spring hits, everything develops a nasty, powdery, yellow film. eugene once said, "you wake up one morning and have to wipe the plant sperm off your car." nice. then he moved to california.

it took a little convincing, but i finally gave in. i will not get a flu shot this year. i'll be a good citizen and somewhat happily step aside so the old people and babies can be vaccinated. that ought to get me some good karma points, right? i'd like to avoid being a dung beetle in my next life if at all possible.

but before i do so, i just want to point out what happened to me two years ago when i didn't get a shot. (i know ... what the heck was i thinking?) without getting into the details, what happened was i got the flu twice ... within three weeks. and the day i started feeling better, i got food poisoning. my manager at the time totally didn't believe me until i came back from texas, and he told me to go home.

experts advise us to wash our hands, cover our faces when we sneeze or cough, and hope against hope that everyone else does the same thing.

i advise us to avoid crowds, work from home, and don't answer the door when the neighbor kids come knocking. actually, i advise us to do that regardless of flu season. it's just good practice.

things we should have been paying attention to all along

“I think a hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.”

-Christopher Reeve

wildfire

ok boys and girls ... get out your #2 pencils. if you use pen, your test won't be graded and 25% of your grade will go straight down the drain.

ready? here we go. question #1:

what's the fastest way to bring estranged college alums back together?

a.) homecoming weekend
b.) class reunion weekend
c.) the announcement that the college president is a complete pedophile.

this isn't intended to be tricky, so don't read too much into it.

got it? great! pencils down.

rumors are so much fun, don't you think? some people don't believe them ... can't believe them ... are totally in shock. others have been waiting for them ... saw them coming at least a summer away ... can't believe how the people who can't believe them didn't see them.

there's a story for each side ... both of them are decades old ...

first you have the abused basketball player, his brother, and at least five other men who live in california and have kept their mouths shut for years. to come to terms with his past, the basketball player writes a book detailing his youth, which is categorized as "fiction."

next is the coach who is an upstanding member of society. he's been the college president for at least two decades and otherwise affiliated with the school for an additional two. he raises money. he builds classrooms. capitalists like him. he keeps to himself and seems to have a fear of women, especially outspoken ones. maybe he's just shy.

wow. it's a good thing i'm not a journalist anymore ... vickie would have fired me by now.

but what do i know? i've also been affiliated with the college for at least two decades. i've heard lots of stories. maybe they're comparable to the egan hall ghost stories. who knows. besides, the board of directors is behind him 100% ... "in the long run, the truth will prevail." how can you not trust someone who has so much to lose? they must be on the right side.

i just hope that during the two full days the board and the president took to respond initially they considered the foundation, heritage, and history of the school rather than their own political and social reputations. maybe they adjourned to the serenity of the chapel to think things through before coming out with, "[The allegations] are not true."

what would sister damien say? you're absolutely right ... forgiveness. she would. but that would be the second thing she'd say.

stuck at work

the experts at about.com have this to tell us about the IAC valve:

The purpose of the Idle Control Valve (IAC) valve assembly is to control engine idle speed, while preventing stalls due to changes in engine load. The IAC valve, mounted in the throttle body, controls bypass air around the throttle valve.

what practical experience tells us is that a stuck IAC valve causes your car to not run in a manner that is consistent with an exploded fuel pump. it also tells us that it is impossible to diagnose a stuck IAC valve until it leaves you stranded in the parking lot of an office building you occupy only twice a week whose address you don't know because your permanent desk is in the highwoods complex, which is 15 miles away and has an address that you know.

i've already noted it, but i'm going back because it's a very important point. when your IAC valve is working improperly, everyone is going to tell you that the fault is with the fuel pump. even Gene, the tow truck guy with the tattoo on his neck and party lite catalog in his truck, turns the key and says, "yeah. that's the fuel pump." you're actually going to be glad that the car doesn't start when Gene tries it because until that point, no one believed you when you told them your car was having ignition issues.

only moments later, Gene will prove himself to be slightly less helpful when he tells you that the ride to the dealership might jostle the car enough that it'll start when you get there.

fortunately, and you'll find it somewhat disturbing, when you arrive at universal and John the service manager is trying to leave for the day, your car continues to not start. this is when you try to persuade Gene and John to sign your roadside assistance envelope. they don't, but John assures you that if the car starts the following morning, he won't refuse to fix anything and send you on your way only to be stranded another day. you give him the look that agnes used to give you when you were a kid, but suspect it isn't as intimidating without the glasses. he gives you his card and says, "it's probably the fuel pump."

you're fine with it being the fuel pump because the fuel pump is covered in your extended warranty. so is the ignition switch. unfortunately, the IAC valve isn't listed, and John, who also promised to handle your account personally, has his teammate Lance tell you.

oh well. now you just have to wait a little longer to buy that camera you've been eyeing for the last month. but it's all good ... peace of mind. and there's still plenty of time for the fuel pump to go.

frappe

the power was out and the super bowl was on. i was the only one not running room service. well, me and the random maintenance guy.

by the time it was all over, it wasn't clear whether the rams had won or lost, and we couldn't go home. there was only one thing to do.

"you want to jump on the bed? fine! we'll jump on the bed!"

alicia and i made sure it wasn't a serious head wound before we started making fun of him.

don't even get me started on the trip to boston.

to hell with late comers

the latter day saints stopped by today. i lied to them. but in a pleasant way.

what is the deal with people bugging me on the day i get to come home early? it started with a picnic in the park and eased into a short nap through dr. phil. then the next thing i knew, zoey was flipping out at the top of the stairs and there was a knock at the door. i knew it wasn't the neighbor kid because he would have rung the doorbell, which is something we'll cover later.

the nervous gentlemen at the door had the right to be nervous. by the time zoey and i'd made it down the stairs, she'd worked herself into an excited and jumping froth. i had to haul her away from the glass so i could open the door an inch. even tho her energy had only good intentions (come on, look at that face), 70 pounds of jumping and barking dog might put you on guard.

i was so proud of her. it totally reminded me of the time we still lived on state road and had dusty, a 90-pound retriever/lab mix. he was a lot more laid back than zoey, but definitely got worked up in the presence of strangers. those poor jehovah's rang the wrong bell that day.

knowing they were bad news, i watched them walk up to the house. i posed dusty just behind the front door, grabbed his collar, and braced myself. when they'd gotten his attention, i opened the door, and he jumped forward ... all dog spit and floppy ears.

it was beautiful. i told the jehovah's i didn't know how long i could hold him. they tried to pass me some "literature" over him, but were unsuccessful.

today's adventure was pretty much the opposite of that in that the dog was behind me. i set one foot on the porch, kept the other inside, and looked like i was having trouble keeping my balance due to the crazy snapping and potential biting behind me.

turns out they wanted to chat for a while, but i told them, while i repeatedly pushed zoey back, that this wasn't a good time. when would be a better time? i looked at her, back out at them and shook my head. they didn't argue.

and then! not ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. neighbor kid. i wasn't quite as pleasant. when will it end?

oh well. at least i was fully awake for the family feud.

"this is my darling sister marie, who's stuck in 1972."

so i was thinking

there can't possibly be enough change in the world.

more.

cardboard

this is very telling.

the stir fry experiment

the good news

• the microwave is a good chicken defroster.
• there wasn't enough smoke to be detected.
• the kitchen floor is incredibly clean.
• my french knife doesn't need to be sharpened.
• there's an aloe plant on the counter.
• the kettle needed to be washed anyway.
• nothing sticks to a stir fry pan.
• bag-o-salad.

the bad news

• my hands still smell like garlic.
• the fan above the stove is as loud as a tornado.
• the hair on my forearms is gone. (this one might be in the wrong category.)
• how long until you know if you have salmonella?
• those poor snow peas.
• what do you do with that much leftover rice?

eureka!

by 8.30 a.m., today was a big day. media relations was shooting random video to use in random video clips either at a town hall or a road show or something like that. they weren't looking for audio, and i was having a good hair day, so i went.

the location? panera. not the newest one. the one next to the first chipotle. yeah, that one.
at 8, it wasn't crowded. neil said he would be there, but i didn't see him. he might have been hiding behind a screen somewhere. my hot chocolate and i took a seat at a small table in the back and i fired up my laptop. i didn't even think to put my wireless card in. it wasn't like i was actually going to do any work.

as i sat there and was ultimately videotaped ("pretend i'm not even here" said the guy with the giant camera who sat down next to me. i was suddenly nervous, so he got a good two minutes of me mostly hitting backspace.) i had an epiphany. it was very cool because i so rarely have epiphanies. the last really good one i had was when i was looking down the barrel of a deadline with not even a hint of a story idea. that evening, i'd just smeared cold cream all over my face when it hit me. i looked myself in the eye and said, "reg is a woman!"

then i proceeded to write an awesome script that no one else understood and were assigned to read again because dr. schiff loved it.

this morning's epiphany was a little different, tho: i realized what i want to be when i grow up.
i want to be one of those people who sit in a coffeehouse all day writing and watching people ... and i don't even like coffee! before i knew it, my panera hour was up, and i'd just hit a good stride. we'll revisit this career path again in december ... after the results of this year's NaNoWriMo have been tallied.

at that point, i may be taking applications for a benefactor. don't worry, i won't ask for your identity ... just your money.

it's gonna be great ... you'll see ...

and another thing

thank god for rain, wind, and other such natural destructors of human technological advancements. can you believe the number of hurricanes cropping up this season? florida must have done something truly evil to deserve the pounding it's taking. i hope it has enough bottled water.

but that's not my concern right now. i'd rather talk about a minor cloud burst and a fire drill.
if you've been keeping up, you've noticed that i spent what seems like a majority of my summer in north central and northwestern pennsylvania. if you haven't been keeping up, what you've missed are a few of my escapades in north central and northwestern pennsylvania.

now that we're all on the same page, i'd like to share with you the route you must travel to get from wilcox, PA to richmond, VA (avoiding DC traffic because interstate 95 is a bitch if you hit it between 6 a.m. and 8 p.m., pardon my french): 219, 153, 80, 970, 350, 322, 99, 76, 70, 522, 37, 81, 66, 17, 95, 295.

actually, 295 takes you around richmond, so if you're aiming for 64 and the city's west end, you have to pretend that the signs for "295 to 64" don't exist. otherwise, you'll end up in charlottesville, making the lady in the leasing office really, really mad, which in turn means you get an apartment filled with cockroaches. and bugs. trust me, 95 eventually intersects with 64 directly.

although each of those roads is memorable ... especially 80, since it's where i got lost the first time and had to call mom, the maker of maps, to find out where i was and she didn't have a map handy ... interstate 99 holds a special place in my heart because it's where my heart actually stopped for the longest period of time that my heart has ever stopped without the result being my death. not that dying is common for me ... i think i had sleep apnea when i was a freshman. is that something that just goes away? i have no idea.

so, you walk unsuspectingly into a friend's house on a day that isn't your birthday or anniversary and a group of 20 people "surprises" you because maybe it's a few days before or a few days after. or! you wander onto a porch to take candy from a seemingly fake gorilla and it grabs your hand. or! you wake up and ... no, that's not a good one ... anyway! minor heart stoppage. for a second or two, you've lost complete control and your body thinks it's best to handle the situation by shutting down momentarily. it happens to everyone, right?

the rain hit in philipsburg. it was the kind of rain that makes motorcyclists and native virginians stop under bridges. being a native pennsylvanian driving through pennsylvania, i trudged on and found I-99 on the other side of the clouds. naturally, the road was wet with some puddling here and there, but mostly on bridges. have you ever noticed that pennsylvania has "bridge may be icy" signs all over the place? that's because it's freezing there 75% of the year. it rains thru the other 25%.

i was driving one of approximately four cars traveling south. all 937 northbound cars were stopped because an upside-down SUV was blocking both lanes at the 350 merger. the only cars that actually made any headway to the north for about a 6-mile stretch were emergency vehicles. nothing was on fire, but i saw two stretchers and a sign that said "slow down. save a life." i wasn't in a hurry to get home, nor was i in a hurry to be the next flipped SUV on 99 regardless of how short a trip it would be for the ambulances. i could live with 70 in a 65. sacrifices.

unfortunately, the lexus that came out of nowhere a few miles later was completely oblivious to the situation and to my plan. going about 80, he passed me on a bridge.

the sound that 20 gallons of water makes when it hits a windshield at 70 mph made my heart stop for the first second. the other two stopped seconds are attributable to the facts that 20 gallons of water had just hit my windshield, that i was blind to everything outside the car, and that my heart had stopped beating a second ago.

somehow, i managed to turn on the wipers and not die. a few minutes later, i was back to breathing normally. a few more minutes later i wasn't shaking quite as much.

it's funny. in the summer of '97, i worked in the college library. it was under serious renovation, so i spent the first month moving art books and "new fiction" to the makeshift satellite library on the other side of campus, and the next two months reading "new fiction" and doing as much astronomy homework as one can do in the daylight.

jen also worked at the library and was taking astronomy. we lived in the same town and would be roommates in the fall, if that matters. one afternoon we were quietly working/studying in the two-room library that no one ever visited because, duh, it was summer vacation, when the fire alarm went off. holy loud.

in the split second that followed, jen and i made brief, meaningless eye contact and with absolutely no regard for anything whatsoever, fled. if you can get a good sprint going in 40 feet, that's what we did.

it wasn't until we were let back inside that i realized i'd left my book bag, my books, my purse, my wallet, and my car keys behind ... and i hadn't even checked to see if anyone else was in the building. it was a moment when my life should have been flashing before my eyes, and all i could think to do was run away.

when that water hit my car, and my life should have been flashing before my eyes again, here's what i thought in that crucial moment: "fuck!" i may have even yelled it. then i braced for death.

what kind of person am i?? certainly not a helpful one when danger looms. i may have to start purposely putting myself in life-threatening situations to develop my reaction skills. i'd much rather be the person who's calm and collected under pressure than the one who wigs out, immediately causing another accident and getting more people killed. maybe i'll even condition myself to have meaningful flashbacks in times of crisis rather than panic-induced tourettes.

the next time i almost die, i want to be thinking about that time i gave mandy a shoebox full of oreo's and orange M&Ms for her birthday. at the very least, i want to think about how much zoey will love texas.

finally ... the end of this topic

some people (mostly men) will tell you that they love yard work because at the end of the day they look at what they've done with a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment. they may not say that exactly, simply because men who use the word "fulfillment" are rare. or they're dr. phil. come to think of it, actually being dr. phil is rare, too.

i, on the other hand, am not a man. thank god. i don't think i could deal with the social pressures. throughout my last two years, which conveniently happen to also be my only two years, of home ownership, yard work has been my bane. much to my own chagrin, i've mowed and mowed and mowed, never really improving the look of the place. apparently half-hearted dedication doesn't quite make the grade and i'm sure the neighbors never fully appreciated the resemblance my yard bore to a wheat field. i thought it was charming, but i have no intention of asking them what they thought.

then it happened. i pulled into my driveway late wednesday nite, and the weed next to the mailbox that was nearly as tall as me was gone. used to seeing it every day, i wondered if i was in the right place. not only that, but i also had no problem spotting the driveway because the grass growing in it was gone. well, maybe not entirely gone ... that's a job for another day ... but gone enough that i could see gravel.

and the backyard? the random grove of sumac trees was gone. 'nuff said.

a couple weeks ago my dad asked mike if he knew how to mow a lawn and mike said, "i know how to hire a lawn service."

did i know how to hire a lawn service? well, no. but my neighbor did. i don't typically have the propensity to ask for help, but i do have an impressive knack for looking pathetic, so it all evens out.
lewis stopped by yesterday to collect a check. he'll be back every two weeks until it's too cold for grass to grow. he likes my yard because it doesn't have a lot of obstacles and it's bigger than what you usually see in suburbia.

talk about a sense of accomplishment. sure, it took a long and painful time, but now i can read on the porch whenever i want knowing the neighbors are outside, too. i may finally fit in.

lewis and i are going to get along just fine.

why i cried in altoona

there are a lot of reasons ... but it's hard to really nail them down.

i get the feeling that it had something to do with the day we dropped aaron off at case. sure, we were there for a couple days of orientation and roommate, clark, and dan introduction ... but after all that. when his bed was made and his clothes were unpacked and all the guys were grouping up to go to the quad or something ... he went through one door and we went through another.

it was uncomfortable for a minute. actually, it was uncomfortable for more than a minute. how could he just turn and walk away? how could we? it wasn't like i was never going to see him again. i knew i would ... probably before thanksgiving. but what would it be like? would it be the same? would he be the same? would i?

i'd grown to love normal.

part of it was jealousy. you can't watch someone you love take such a big step in his life without wondering when or if you're going to take a similar step. think of what he's going to experience and who he's going to experience it with. how can you not want to do that, too?

another part was excitement. you can't watch someone you love take such a big step in his life without wondering what he's going to learn, where he's going to go, who he's going to meet, who he's going to become, and what he's going to teach you.

normal would be redefined, but it would remain normal.

so i cried. on interstate 90 from cleveland to albion. growing pains do that to you no matter how grown up you think you are. perfectly and naturally healthy, they pass eventually, but always manage to leave a mark ... a soft spot or a scar or a callous ... maybe something breaks.
it's all for the better. can't you see how far you've come?

head trauma

today was my 4th trip down the aisle. or was it the 5th? i don't remember anymore. sure sounds like i have a lot of baggage, tho, doesn't it?

turns out i do ... but not that kind of baggage. other random baggage. i even have a set of luggage ... but not a full set. most of a set ... the important pieces.

anyway! alicia got married today and i have the mosquito bites and lump on the head to prove it. wouldn't it be fun if i could tell you that i got hit in the head with a champagne bottle, or took a header on the dance floor, or even ran into the top of the door getting out of the limo? sadly, however, i've learned that when you get poked in the head with a bobby pin and then add 80 more bobby pins and then let everything sit there for 15 hours, that one little spot gets sore. and swollen. and you can't brush your hair the way you want to for at least 5 days.

but the itching and the scalp pain as well as the discomfort that comes from wearing a dress that the seamstress took in a little too much on the top, thank you very much, was all worth it for the opportunities to be there for the stupid questions; to be there before, during, and after the rain; to be there for, as silly as it may have seemed at the time, the exchange of peace after they said "i do" ...

... to be there to share such pure happiness with your best friend and 250 of the closest strangers you'd ever met.

by the end of the night, you couldn't tell which family was which or who wasn't related at all.

i don't know anything about it ... but that's gotta be how it's supposed to work.

cake, anyone?

on august 22, the Mare will start its second year of life. who would have guessed this would have gone on so long? certainly not me. my attention span typically doesn't last more than 23 minutes. when i'm at work, tho, it's more like 45 seconds. seriously, i think i have some kind of adult attention deficit disorder. have you seen that commercial where the woman is sitting in a meeting thinking about what her kids are doing and where her husband is and a convo she had earlier that day and then someone calls on her? that's a lot like me. except without the kids. and the husband. and no one ever calls on me in meetings. until today! in a staff meeting, i was sitting next to my manager's manager and he turned to me with, "is there anything you'd like to add here?" wow! there really wasn't, but i went with it and said 1/30 of a minute worth of nothing. it was impressive, just ask neil.

also impressive is the CD i bought last week. it's full of wonderful angry music - very work appropriate. my new favorite song is called "out of control." it has a lot of yelling in it, especially at the end. it's totally going in the car on my next road trip. one of these days, i'm going to unplug my headphones and let the yelling and screaming and head banging fill the executive wing, which is where they moved me at the beginning of the month. they'll regret it by the end.

but no, i could never do that. i have a mortgage to pay and a dog to support. someone else might have to support her very shortly if she keeps getting up at 3 a.m. because she's hungry. the humane society maybe. or mom. i think mom would be happy with a dog. and even if she isn't, her landlord would love it. zoey could become the edinboro community's mascot. she could go to work with the hobb's boys where she'd find fame for being afraid of everything from the automatic door to the cash register to the forklifts. of course, if she lived with mandy, she could be afraid of ethan, and buster would finally have someone to boss around (besides brad when he visits).

anyway! so, yeah ... that anniversary is still a few days away.

a year of this, eh? and you're still around? wow.

The Straggler

The desert horizon encompassed April as she stood in the faint light of the fire examining the backs of her hands. The paramedics had called them defensive wounds when they delicately wrapped her in gauze. She decided that was a good explanation and repeated it to the police, condemning some poor black and white to at least two fruitless weeks.

The waning flames illuminated her forehead, nose, cheeks and neck, and begot soft shadow dances across the webbing on her hands. Everything had been fine a week ago. Hell, three days ago. She might as well have had a lobotomy within the last 48 hours. At least that would shed some light.

April picked at the gauze and a dark red splotch slowly grew lighter. She hadn't felt pain for months. Only the emotions that linger when it's passed. Four lights blazed in the distance. She could feel more bearing down from behind, but she wasn't interested anymore. If only she could be content where she was with her bleeding hands and quaint fire. Other people did it all the time. But she belonged to the lights. Maybe if she stayed, the lights would come to her and finally settle this.

But April new better than to wait. She tore the bandages from her hands and dropped them into the coals before stomping out the remaining flames. Tiny embers wedged themselves under her sandal straps, a final grasp for life. Later, she would remember the heat and wish for it.

Darkness engulfed her and she exhaled her content. A thankful smile. Sand crunched under her feet with every step and Orion looked down on her, as had so many others before him.

"Which one?" she asked. But he remained silent. April knew she didn't have to decide yet anyway. The lights were lifetimes away and seemed to be moving against her. She'd ask again later. For now, she'd let the open air lick her wounds and sting her eyes while she walked the distance, thinking up nonsense to pass the time.

one word to describe mandy on reunion weekend

show-stopping

(i figure the hyphen brings it all together.)

the class reunion in one word:

dramatic.

for brad: one last dialog

never to be forgotten: the corn maze

mandy [wearing designer boots and matching coat]: shawn, slow down! jody's getting scared.
shawn [testing the wind]: stop a minute. i think we need to turn around.
mandy: don't anyone panic. shawn rolled a 20 in wilderness lore.
shawn: wait ...
mandy: who elected you the leader anyway?
shawn: i'm the only logical choice. you don't want to follow slackers like brad and jody, do you
mandy: you're right. i don't. so get us the hell out of here.
shawn: would you stop dancing like that? you're embarrassing me.
man dressed as monster [leaping from the corn stalks]: boo!
mandy: go away!
[man leaves]
mandy: that was close.
shawn: there's the exit!
mandy: it's about damn time.
brad: i wonder if shawn will be able to find the car.
jody: i can't feel my hands.

snapshots

because the last "mandy and jody" dialogue was so much fun (for me), i've written more. the series that follows stems from a conversation i had in a bar last friday evening with matt, a seemingly devout mandy and jody fan and overall good guy.

he was under the impression that she and i are related due to the fact that, well, we act like we are. you know, the insults and the bickering and stuff ... here's the history ...

the early days: low income pre-school
mandy [wearing a pretty new pink sweater]: look at my pretty new pink sweater!
jody [wearing jeans and a sweatshirt]: i wish i was as pretty as you.
mandy: don't worry, i'll teach you.
jody: look! mom's showing us how popcorn pops.
mandy: eew! it's on the floor! there's no way i'm eating that!

a little later: junior high
mandy [with her bangs sticking straight up]: do you want to hear my pee-wee herman impersonation?
jody [with a perm]: not particularly.
mandy: ok, let's go to lunch and see if we can get owens and gail to fight about religion.
jody: i'm all for it.
mandy: would you like a spoon for your cheese popcorn?
jody: yes, please.mandy: good answer. cheesy fingers are not pretty.

later still: high school
mandy [whispering in 4th period world cultures]: did you see the guy in the gillette commercial on channel one this morning? he was hot!
jody: oh my god, he was! i hope that one's on again tomorrow.
mr. palo [trying to teach world cultures]: i'm going to put your names on the board to keep you from talking. next time, it's detention.
mandy: if we talk again, we won't be able to get bonus bonus points on the next test.
jody: the horror. it's a good thing we know how to tie square knots.

another world cultures moment
mr. palo [again, trying]: i said the pacific ocean. i meant the sea of japan.
class: *snickers*
mr. palo: i hope you're all using the cornell system of note-taking.

us in college
mandy [dressed up for no apparent reason]: do i know you?
jody [jeans and a sweatshirt]: i don't think so. i like your shoes.
mandy: thanks.

just the other day in email
mandy: i don't think jenna and i are going to the reunion.
jody: like hell you're not. i took time off from work.
mandy: ok, i guess i'll go ... because it's you.
jody: you're damn right. and thanks. you've always been considerate of others' feelings.
mandy: and i'm pretty, too.
jody: that goes without saying.
mandy: this story makes it seem like i think i'm the pretty one and i don't want the readers to think i'm that self-absorbed.

girlie girl

that's what denise sometimes calls me when she's trying to get my attention, expressing disappointment, or just being silly. because of it, i'm proud to say i find her neither insulting or homophobic. it makes me laugh ... and that's exactly what i did when i read about what arnold said about lawmakers:

"If they don’t have the guts to come up here in front of you and say, 'I don’t want to represent you, I want to represent those special interests, the unions, the trial lawyers ... if they don’t have the guts, I call them girlie men,' Schwarzenegger said to the cheering crowd at a mall food court in Ontario."

boy, did that piss some people off:

"Democrats said Schwarzenegger’s remarks were insulting to women and gays and distracted from budget negotiations. State Sen. Sheila Kuehl said the governor had resorted to “blatant homophobia."

further ...

"'It uses an image that is associated with gay men in an insulting way, and it was supposed to be an insult. That’s very troubling that he would use such a homophobic way of trying to put down legislative leadership,' said Kuehl, one of five members of the Legislature’s five-member Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Caucus."

of course it's an insult! most likely intended to get lawmakers to re-evaluate what the heck they're doing. people do it all the time. negative reinforcement. it's like that scene in "miracle" (my new favorite movie) where herb calls mcclanahan a candy ass to get everyone fired up. and arnold's not even trying to win a gold medal.

i wonder if the cheering crowd in the food court received similar criticism from the democrats for encouraging an elected official to not only have a personality but also attempt to relate to his constituency by referencing pop culture.

maybe the democrats are right. maybe arnold really meant to insult the entire LGBT community (he's the governor of california, right? just checking.) while at the same time standing up for school and employee rights. maybe i should be offended, too, because i'm a woman.

or! maybe the democrats shouldn't worry so much about arnold's unintentional homophobic denunciation and go back to their desks in washington to re-read that memo from bush ... the one about legalizing discrimination against gays and lesbians? yeah, that's right.

wow ... where did that come from? i never pay attention to the government.

back to business

i love how my hair behaves right after it's cut ... unless were talking about that day when i went to the hair cuttery on a whim and the stylist of the hour eliminated my bangs almost completely. yes ... it was sixteen months ago.

in other news, i hope everyone read the comments from july that indicate brad's return from months of silent meditation high in the cold of the alps. his return was marked with an excellent idea ... mandy and me on "the amazing race." i love that. we're totally there. i've even taken the liberty of scripting an episode:

day 17: a stroll thru a vietnamese rice paddy
[censored for sensitive viewers]

mandy [furiously dialing her cell phone, which has been dead for days]: why doesn't this damn thing work?

jody [lugging all the baggage except for one bag of shoes]: because it's been dead for days. i don't know why you can't accept that.

mandy: *bleep*

jody: i don't understand how rice grows.

mandy: i don't give a *bleep* how *bleep*ing rice grows. i just want to find a *bleep*ing cab and get the *bleep* out of here!

jody [passing out from heat exhaustion]: ...

mandy: i hate my hair.

CBS executive 1: this is the greatest episode ever.

CBS executive 2: we should hire brad.

the shape of my world

i read so many things today that were composed of such obviously self-indulgent words that i started removing random phrases from the parts i was allowed to edit.

in my own, flat style, i'd just like to say that not 45 seconds ago i accidentally swallowed an ice cube. at first i thought i might die, but once it was down, i realized that everything was ok. what did i think about in that brief moment of panic? emily dickinson. "after great pain." not that swallowing an ice cube is painful ... or deadly. you might choke for a few seconds, but soon it would melt and the episode would be over. hopefully no one was around to see. i have a sore throat, but that's not related at all. why do you think i had ice in my mouth in the first place?

i was in ihop this afternoon when someone tripped the fire alarm. business as usual. when the alarm went off at work last week, it had barley gotten through the first buzz when all the women had grabbed their purses and headed for the stair cases where they were shoved around by the fleeing men. chivalry is dead. every man for himself. in the restaurant, tho, not one head was lifted. not one plate of pancakes had failed to be served, not one order was interrupted. even the bus boy continued picking up empty coffee cups. i guess if i had to work there, i wouldn't mind being burned alive, either.

the middle man is lonely. he passes the document from the author to the publisher and back again. and again. but even he gets complimented on his timing every now and then. it doesn't mean much.
i saw the greatest thing today. the guy in the polo shirt, khaki pants, and white saturn stopped two lanes of traffic to carry a sizeable turtle to safety. then the guy behind me honked and i had to flip him off. get over it. the light will turn green again. i promise.

pretty in pink

good news! in a merchandising ploy 50 years in the making, mattel has announced the launch of a real-person line of barbie clothing sure to please girls of all ages and make buying a swimsuit even more annoying.

"this doesn't make me look like barbie."

soon, for prices that would probably make donald trump think twice, you'll be able to fill your closet with everything that's pink and skimpy and frilly and can only be worn with high heels. i know what you're thinking: why would donald trump want to dress like barbie? well, who are you to judge anyone?

personally, i think it's a great idea. i already spend close to $200 every year on jeans [that actually fit], and i hope all clothing prices spike to compete with mattel. maybe then i'll finally be able to spend thousands of dollars a year on my wardrobe. another benefit? all of the clothing will probably have that big, red mattel logo on it somewhere. how trendy! if barbie were here right now, she'd be almost clapping her hands in excitement. we all know her arms don't bend that way.

i just hope that the clothing is well made and fastens at the back with more than just a giant strip of velcro or a solitary enormous snap or a ribbon tied at the waist. i remember the first (and last) pair of barbie sneakers i owned. barbie is constantly on her toes, so i didn't see the point. was there traction anywhere but on the balls of her feet? if so, why? so i gave up on those and usually went with the boots because they stayed on better than all the strappy heels and they were hard to lose in the carpeting ... or god forbid we were outside.

barbie sure looked good in her valentine's day gown and those streamlined white boots. ken was always embarrassed. maybe that's why they broke up.

thilly, thilly girlth

so i was at debi's a couple weeks ago and we were going through one of her old scrapbooks (that might be redundant). as luck would have it, she saved the last five or six columns that val and i had written as 17-year-olds for the albion news.

somehow (i have no idea how) we were chosen to be the northwestern high school reporters for the '93-'94 school year. maybe it was our wit ... our charm ... our good looks. but probably it was because our mothers were best friends with the editor ... who, in another twist of fate, gave me my first real job after i graduated from college and once yelled at me at work for not helping my mother around the house more.

our column was widely known for being particularly silly and packed with inside jokes that hardly anyone outside the school community (and, often, outside our own little clique) could have understood. but still, i think we had good readership ... and we were damn good that the occasional interviews with school personnel. we asked tough questions like, if louise the lunch lady could be in the winter olympics, what event would she want to compete in? we totally had the elementary school reporters beat.

i'm pretty sure we were the last set of reporters to write an extensive yet unbelievably ingenious christmas poem, and the first to ever submit our column written on toilet paper. we were also the first to write an article completely with a lisp. by the time i got to this one in the scrapbook, debi had disappeared upstairs. she should definitely go back and read it.

i clearly remember the day val and i wrote it. we were at my house. it was a sunny day after graduation. and my aunt grace was visiting. val and i were on the back deck sounding out 300-ish words, carefully replacing every "s" (and "s" sound) with a "th." i swear it took us two hours to finish. nearing the end we asked grace how to spell "auf weidersehen" with a lisp. turns out it's "auf weiderthehen."

"are you making fun of one person in particular or everyone with a speech impediment in general?" grace asked.

hmmmm ... everyone.

somehow we lucked out and never got a letter to the editor for anything we wrote ... at least not that i remember. even tho i'm sure some things deserved it. that must be how you know you're good at something.

last week i wrote about stupid high school girls ... thanks to mandy and val, i'm remembering just how stupid we were and how we paraded it in front of a town week after week after week. but at least we were clever. and by senior year i wasn't wearing a headband anymore ... well, not regularly.

my trip to target

all i needed was a box of envelopes. what i got was a box of envelopes, nail polish, mouthwash, a card, and "the big lebowski." come on, it was only $7.50. you would have done the same thing. i could have gotten "snatch" for $10, but i had to draw the line somewhere. who do i think i am? aaron?

so, what was fun was following the mini-gaggle of obviously high school girls into the store. if the requirements were height and weight, i could have fit in. but as it turns out my hair wasn't brown with blonde highlights, i didn't have it pulled into a pony tail and tied with a claire's bow, and i wasn't wearing a short jean skirt, exercise shorts, or a tank top. and i wasn't completely unaware of my surroundings.

i was, however, wearing sandals ... but they weren't black flip flops. and when i was driving, i used my turn signals. and i didn't stop where there wasn't a stop sign. and i didn't walk up to the non-automatic door and stand there for a second expecting it to open.

apparently they were there to check out coolers in the only way a high school girl knows how. "let's hang on to this one and see if we can find anything prettier." fortunately a lot of coolers were near the entrance, so i could get around them quickly.

now i'm left wondering. was i ever really like that? i mean, sure, i did a lot of giggling in my formative years. hell, i do a lot of giggling now ... depending on who's around ... and these days it's plainly called "laughing," thank you very much. i spoke with a lisp in public every now and then for no apparent reason ... participated in synchronized midnite bowling a lot ... made prank calls ... stuff like that. but at least it wasn't stupid. and i didn't have a bow in my hair.

flight 2564

leaving newark, i could have sworn i was looking at the New York skyline. how many empire state building look-a-likes could there possibly be outside new jersey? then i saw the statue of liberty.

her size (from take-off) paled in comparison to the already seemingly small skyscrapers, yet she appeared so big. so striking.

i couldn't help but think of 9/11. how could i not? this was physically the closest i'd come to it. and i was in a plane.

suddenly i didn't feel like reading skymall magazine anymore.

amanda

mandy's visit was so full of fun and excitement that it's taken me two days to calm down enough to be able to write about it.

i could tell you all about how we ordered pizza when she first got here and how we stayed up until 3 a.m. just talking and how we went shopping saturday and how she discovered long island iced tea saturday nite and how matt lauer jr. waited on us sunday morning. but you're not interested in that, are you? i didn't think so.

it's much more interesting to tell you all the things she taught me while she was here:

• diet coke is the breakfast of champions.
• pizza reheated in the oven is infinitely better than pizza reheated in the microwave.
• you can get french onion soup without the onions.
• sometimes one twin gets more nutrients than the other.
• there's a reason men don't wear k-swiss shoes.
• good christian girls finish last.
• there really are no good christian girls.
• it's possible to buy something you like at pottery barn for 31 cents.
• what is that woman thinking wearing that?
• 20 + 20 = 40

i feel smarter and cultured. she should visit more often.

why i love jeopardy

i don't know what the deal was yesterday, but i spent the afternoon doing nothing but watching movies. ya just can't watch "the patriot" too many times.

by the time evening rolled around, i was ready for something different. i was ready for something to help solidify my turned-to-mush brain. "extreme makeover home edition" wasn't the answer. and, sadly, neither was "super millionaire."

here's the premise of the show: to be an actual contestant, you have to first answer a silly question like, "put these presidents in the order starting with the most recent: jefferson, clinton." ok, there are supposed to be four options, but it's such a silly thing to have to do, i stopped with two.

if you win this contest, you get to sit in the hot seat where you face your greatest challenge of the whole show: sitting in close proximity to a condescending and oily regis philbin, whose wit proves only how much ABC spent on "laugh" and "applause" signs.

next, you're faced with a series of questions that were in previous lives rejected from teen jeopardy. but they're worth $1,000 to $5,000. the questions grow progressively more challenging, which means the audience spends more and more time watching you sweat while you cluelessly stare at the giant monitor in front of you. there's no chance to actually think because regis is being paid by the word, and he can't seem to stop describing your husband's reactions as he sits patiently in the audience ... rolling his eyes.

so let's say you make it to the $100,000 question. this is where the lighting changes and regis grandiosely announces that you're in a new dimension or something. then there's dramatic music, the camera shoots up to the ceiling (again), and the audience feigns awe. regis explains the new rules, which consist of only two new life lines. i'm sure you're familiar with the originals, so i won't bore you with them. [note to the audience: the pig in "animal farm" isn't named "mussolini." moron.]

now you get "double dip," which means you can answer again if your first guess is wrong, and "three wise men," which, from what i can tell, consists of three non-descript pseudo celebrities/self-proclaimed smart people sitting at a table trying not to embarrass themselves in front of a nation.

i've seen this life line used twice, and both times none of the people had a clue as to what the answer was. they couldn't even produce an educated guess. helpful!

but the best part is that when you use one of the extra life lines, you have to confirm that's what you want to do.

"regis, i'd like to ask the three wise men."

and then regis says, "ok. you've decided to ask the three wise men. do you confirm your decision?"

"yes, i confirm it."

"ok, we're going with the three wise men. let's turn on the audio and video feed."

what a waste of time. you already wasted 5 minutes deciding that you didn't know the answer. now you wasted 5 more convincing regis that you wanted help from three other people who don't know the answer either. and your family at home has managed to fall asleep on the couch.

i love jeopardy because it's fast. because it's challenging. because it doesn't chronicle the history of each contestant. because it's not a vehicle for regis to inflate his already unbelievable ego. because instead of learning 8 things in 60 minutes, you can learn, what, 61-ish things in 30. granted, i say "who is henry the 8th?!" about 20 times per episode, but that's down from 35 last year.

so i'm learning. is that my final answer? wait ... maybe i should phone a friend.

blondie

... is old. that was pretty much the consensus last nite in innsbrook. and apparently she's a lot older than most of our mothers. wow!

but that's not important right now. what's important is that the radio people say today is the first day of cicada weeks 2004. cnn.com told me that every 17 years all of the cicadas who've been quite content to live in a hole in the ground all that time think it's fun to spring forth, mate, and cause humans to completely freak out. i'm really looking forward to it.

in order to prepare for what's been portrayed as "the end" for the mid-atlantic states, we've been advised to ensure our screens are intact, keep our doors closed as much as possible, limit our pets' time outside, and generally become neighborhoods of recluses during the last few weeks of spring, which features mild temperatures that are perfect for outside lounging. but, no. there will be too many bugs. and the temptation to eat them will be great ... for animals, at least. cicadas are reported to be slow, low-flying big bugs (a.k.a., flying poisonous dog toys).

i actually have a lot of faith that zoey won't eat a cicada. she went thru an extensive bug-eating phase, sure ... who doesn't? it all ended three labor days ago when we were in the holiday tourist trap that is north central pennsylvania and she snatched a yellow jacket out of the air. i didn't see the adventure first-hand, but i did hear the resulting rasping cough. when i turned around, she was frozen in place with her mouth wide open and tongue hanging out. scared to death. i can't imagine a bee sting on the back of the tongue is a pleasant feeling.

just as i got the number of a local vet, she started moving again. slowly. then she drank a gallon of water and within 15 minutes was back to her normal self. but without all the bug-eating. nowadays she'll sniff at a spider or an ant. or a wasp. or a lady bug. or a salamander (i know ... not a bug!) but she rarely ingests them.

so i'm not worried about the cicadas. my house is only 13-years-old. i trust that such modern-day construction is solid enough to keep everything from crumpling under the weight of the cicada plague. but we'll see. if i end up being wrong, maybe you have a comfortable couch?

ironic

it's a tragedy. and a surprise.

for real.

in the not so distant past, the CEO of McDonald's died of a sudden heart attack.

wait ... did i say surprise? that can't be the right word. what is the right word? i'll think of it.

in honor ... er, sorry ... in memoriam of the late, great jim cantalupo, the fast food behemoth (don't i sound like a journalist? only journalists use that word.) has introduced the adult happy meal under the pretense that an adult's love of salad, water, and a step-o-meter is equal to a child's love of cheeseburgers, fries, and harmful if swallowed plastic.

wow. who did the research on that one?

it looks like the meal probably comes in a fancy little box like happy meals come in ... i mean ... like happy meals used to come in ... before the accounting department successfully completed "project paper bag."

enticed? i can tell. you're wondering how much this miracle meal will cost you at the drive-thru. wonder no longer: $5.99. holy hell. you can go to ruby tuesday's and get the salad bar and a glass of water for like $1.99. but i digress. i'm sure the price will drop as soon as the accounting department is consulted again. those people are full of great ideas. fingers crossed, they'll go back to styrofoam.

how many step-o-meters do you need anyway?

lucky you

highland springs elementary. or is it high school? i'm not sure, but i pass it once every day. since my stalker hasn't been around in a few months (that i know of ... maybe he's just doing a better job) i've gotten brave enough to include the stretch of road that goes by the gas station where we first met in my afternoon commute. somehow i've convinced myself that this route is improving my gas mileage.

what is the deal with people on the same floor who talk to each other via speaker phone? cripe.
wow. that guy's fired up.

so, the sign at the entrance to the highland springs mystery school currently says, "SOL Testing." see? i've managed to weed out the northerners ... i know you ... you're snickering.

where i come from, SOL doesn't mean "standards of learning," and it doesn't require a test. SOL is more like the condition of showing up to the test without a pencil ... and no one will lend you one ... not even the teacher. i remember going to take the SAT (probably the first time because i wasn't nauseous), being corralled into a tiny, public erie school classroom, and seeing kids come in with pens. they didn't qualify just then as SOL because they could have cared less. the difference between them and the kids who were begging writing implements from other kids was fear.

as soon as the pen kids realized that they couldn't take the SAT with a purple pen and suffered that initial twinge of panic, they became SOL. you can't be totally SOL until you're conscious that you're SOL. other people might recognize you as SOL before you acknowledge it, but at that point, you're just "potentially SOL." it's doesn't take complete effect until you are fully aware of your situation.

why does virginia test for SOL? i guess down here it's harder to tell. there must be different SOL rules if you can't just know by looking at them which kids are potentially SOL and which kids aren't at any given moment. i blame their parents. if your kid is living in a constant, virtual SOL state, what kind of example are you setting? even if they're not, what kind of example is teaching them to appear to be SOL?

the only thing i can figure is that it's a blood test.

thinking of bob

i passed dan on the stairs today and he asked how i was.
"pretty good."
how was he?
"excellent."
i think about bob almost every day because almost every day is pretty good.

excellent.
how did he do it?
it's not about outside influences.
raining? it happens.
rough nite? it's over.
fail a test? study next time.

how do i get to excellent?
responsibility.
embrace it.
be accountable for yourself.
be a positive influence.
sometimes that's all it takes.
attitude.
attitude.
attitude.
i'm infinitely lucky to have his guidance,
but i miss him.

"poise, gentlemen, poise."

pancakes

what is it about colonials and outlet malls that gives people, namely tourists, a hankering for batter-based breakfast foods? no, really, i'm asking.

mom and i spent saturday afternoon shopping in williamsburg and not once did she say to me, "you know, i could really go for a syrup drenched belgian waffle. and eggs." even when we both finally admitted to each other how extremely hungry we were, we agreed on a popular non-breakfast-oriented chain instead of the pancake and waffle house, the waffle and pancake house, and IHOP. and gazebo pancakes.

here's my theory: when america was still in the midst of its grand opening celebration (a.k.a., the revolutionary war) it was too dangerous to just hop on your horse and trot down to the local burger king for an order of onion rings ... especially if you were wearing blue or gray. there was probably also a tariff on french fries. so, everyone ended up having to eat at home all the time.

and what meal is most often eaten at home? breakfast! and what did colonial america not have enough of? chickens! but what they did have a lot of was flour because there was a lot of dirt. and the dirt, as we all know, is where flour comes from.

so, they mixed the flour with water and out came pancakes and sometimes waffles ... and they ate them in their houses, safe from enemy fire.

because pancakes and waffles are so filling, there really wasn't a need to hit the local BK or bullets on the way to or from the battlefields. eventually those melted out of existence until the early 1920s when the revolutionary war came mostly to an end and people had eaten enough pancakes to satisfy future generations and now all they wanted was a small, greasy meat patty that contained meat from between 10 and 100 cows and was slopped between soggy bread and, get this, "american" cheese.

but the point is, clearly the revolutionary war lives on in williamsburg (but with relatively less open shooting). you don't have to visit "colonial williamsburg" to experience it. just drive down 60 and have some pancakes. there are about a bazillion pancake houses within one square mile to choose from. it'll be great. you'll see. the family will love it.

where grilled cheese came from

there's now a suggestion box in the cafeteria. i'd tell you the name of the cafeteria, but you'd think it's much too silly and i must be making it up.

ok, it's capital yum.

told ya. maybe i should make a suggestion.

anyway ... it's time for a story!

when was processed meat invented? i don't know ... probably in the 40s during "the war." that's when everything else was invented. so that'll be when our story takes place.

where was it invented? i'm going with oscartown on this one because the company info portion of the oscar mayer website says it a lot.

picture this: it's march, 1942 in oscartown. you're a cute blonde girl, about 27-ish years old. you're a desk jockey, and a damn good one. against your own best judgment (and your new year's resolution), you have to eat lunch in the company cafeteria every now and then. maybe it's because your best friend is on a cruise, or because neil wasn't at his desk at 12.30, or because everyone else shot down your offer. (you really need to start bringing lunch with you.)

from pork and pasta to salad and stir fry, you've methodically tried and ruled out the gamut of sodhexo offerings. lately, you've been getting sandwiches. they seem safe. salami, roast beef, chicken salad. then one fateful day it's turkey. slimy, shiny, processed turkey. how bad can it be?

your fourth bite finds something crunchy. and it's not lettuce - you already took that off because it tasted like dirt. so, out from between the slices of bread comes the gelatinous substance, leaving you with only cheese. with the enthusiasm of a clam, you work on choking down what's left of the sandwich. it's then that a random fellow employee wanders by and notices your pathetic lunch.

"cheese sandwich, huh?" reminding you how boring it is. "maybe you should cook it or something."
i know it doesn't fit the setting, but by some miracle there happens to be a george foreman grill in the galley. it fades into thin air after you finish making your sandwich.

there you have it! the grilled cheese sandwich is invented. like most artists, you go on to live a life of absolutely no fame or fortune, but your contribution to future generations of desk jockeys who have to eat in crummy cafeterias is immense ... and we thank you.

an interesting challenge

gonna build a doghouse this summer. hopefully. mom's working on the plans. i have the spot all picked out. it's gonna be great.

construction hasn't even begun and i'm already learning things about building dog houses. for example:

in order to determine the size of the house, you must first determine the size of the dog.

mom pointed this out to me last week. "you need to find out her height, width, and length." what followed was a fit of laughter that wasn't just mine. finetta joined in and asked if mom was serious.
so, what were my options?

1. measuring tape. not likely. i might get one measurement out of it, but as soon as it retracted, zoey would flee to the upstairs never to come down again.
2. yard stick. even less likely. she's afraid of the broom. 'nuff said.

i weighed the options carefully and decided to go with option #2 primarily because it didn't require digging through cabinets and toolboxes, which are things that don't appeal to us lazy folk. who knows why i thought the yard would be the best setting for this, but i did. i'm cracked.

fortunately, for every time zoey ran away, she ran back to the porch, close enough for me to grab her collar. after about a dozen attempts, i had three of the four measurements that we needed. the last one, "how about when she's curled in a ball" just isn't going to happen. mom's good at math. it's like star trek 4 ... she'll have to make a guess. and i'll trust it.