A woman from my hometown - Moscow, PA - received the Newbury Honor Award this year for Children's Literature. I'm a big fan of kids' lit. so when I saw her book on the ALA website, I read it, and then sent her a note to congratulate her. I probably haven't talked to this woman since she was my eighth grade homeroom teacher. However, her family went to my church and her son graduated with me. His and my circles also intersected once in a while. I knew that she would recognize me, and it wouldn't be outrageous for her to receive a card from me.
I didn't know the address, but I only had to fill out her name and the zip code and I knew it would reach her. How can one not love small towns? The mailman has four boys. My mom used to baby-sit them until the fourth was born. She said she wouldn't be able to handle that manyboys under 6! The mailman's father went rafting with me in the Grand Canyon a few years ago. He's a cool guy. I'm not sure what he did for a living, but it involved the government's relationship with the public. His biggest project over the years was Centralia, PA. That the town, under which the coal mines have been burning for decades. Slowly the government has been buying people's houses before they fall into the burning inferno (literally). However, there are still some die hard Centralians who refuse to move. Most of them are old, so now we're just waiting for them to die.
But I digress, which is easy to do when one talks about the politics of small town America.
I sent a card. I received a reply. My card was pleasant, maybe even funny. Her reply heartfelt and properly punctuated. But I question the last line. What am I supposed to imply from it? It reads: "What a crew we had in homeroom that year...that was the year that made me decide I wanted to write full time!"
While I appreciate the thought that I played a pivotal role in her celebrated career. I'm not sure if I want that role.
Tuesday, February 28
Job Hunt
All good blogs have at least one Fart Post. This will be mine.
If...whom am I kidding...When I look for my next job, I will look for one at which I can fart. Cubicles are not fart-friendly. The neighbors can hear you. The half-walls, while good for ventilation, do not keep the scent from people walking by. And it's far too easy for one's boss (or Cute Girl) to walk into the cube moments after an SBD has been launched. I don't know if I can continue to digest food in this environment. I eat healthily. A lot of green vegetables. Beans. Maybe it's the lactose. But for whatever the reason, I dread the afternoon because of the somersaults my stomach turns after lunch.
I want a job where bodily noises aren't noticed, like on a airport run-way. Or I need a job out in the open, like in a forest preserve. Or perhaps where strange smells are not out of the ordinary, like a laboratory. Or I could look for a job at the trifecta of these characteristics - the landfill.
Confession time: now that I live in a strange city, a city in which I don't plan to spend the rest of my life, sometimes I just let one rip in public. Sometime I figure the guy walking down the street will just assume the sound was the scuffing of my shoe. Or I'll be in the mall and just assume that if I keep a straight face, noone will think it's me. If they figure it out...so what. It's not like they've never had to do it.
As my Aunt Janine says, "It's better to bear the shame, than to bear the pain." How true.
If...whom am I kidding...When I look for my next job, I will look for one at which I can fart. Cubicles are not fart-friendly. The neighbors can hear you. The half-walls, while good for ventilation, do not keep the scent from people walking by. And it's far too easy for one's boss (or Cute Girl) to walk into the cube moments after an SBD has been launched. I don't know if I can continue to digest food in this environment. I eat healthily. A lot of green vegetables. Beans. Maybe it's the lactose. But for whatever the reason, I dread the afternoon because of the somersaults my stomach turns after lunch.
I want a job where bodily noises aren't noticed, like on a airport run-way. Or I need a job out in the open, like in a forest preserve. Or perhaps where strange smells are not out of the ordinary, like a laboratory. Or I could look for a job at the trifecta of these characteristics - the landfill.
Confession time: now that I live in a strange city, a city in which I don't plan to spend the rest of my life, sometimes I just let one rip in public. Sometime I figure the guy walking down the street will just assume the sound was the scuffing of my shoe. Or I'll be in the mall and just assume that if I keep a straight face, noone will think it's me. If they figure it out...so what. It's not like they've never had to do it.
As my Aunt Janine says, "It's better to bear the shame, than to bear the pain." How true.
Monday, February 27
Holey Bread
Can I return a loaf of bread to the supermarket because it has too large of a hole in the center of it? Seriously, the hole is as big as fist. Making sandwiches or toast would be ridiculous. There is no bread - just crust. I would feel silly returning it. But the supermarket manager might get a kick out of it.
Thursday, February 23
A Cup of Tchai
I had one of my most pleasant evenings tonight.
Jake, Christie, and I went to the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra after work. The concert hall is only a few blocks down the street from us. We bought tickets at the door and they were relatively cheap.
This weekend the MSO is playing a Tchaikovsky concert, but on the Thursdays they play a shorter version of the weekend program. We heard a little bit of an opera, the "March Slav," a piano concerto, and the "1812 Overture." The concert was just long enough. There was a commentator onstage during the performance and before each song, he would give little facts about the upcoming piece. It was great. And who doesn't like Tchaikovsky? I think he's my favorite composer.
After the show, they had complimentary desserts and coffee at the hotel across the street. We helped ourselves twice. My dinner tonight consisted mostly of cannoli and chocolate-covered strawberries. And I washed them down with Jack and Coke. The hotel is classy and as we were still in our business casual dress, we felt like actual adults.
We had some funny stories and decided that Thursday nights at the Symphony should become a new tradition. Especially because the next concert is titled "Barbara Streisand's Songbook." Eh, maybe we'll skip next week.
Jake, Christie, and I went to the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra after work. The concert hall is only a few blocks down the street from us. We bought tickets at the door and they were relatively cheap.
This weekend the MSO is playing a Tchaikovsky concert, but on the Thursdays they play a shorter version of the weekend program. We heard a little bit of an opera, the "March Slav," a piano concerto, and the "1812 Overture." The concert was just long enough. There was a commentator onstage during the performance and before each song, he would give little facts about the upcoming piece. It was great. And who doesn't like Tchaikovsky? I think he's my favorite composer.
After the show, they had complimentary desserts and coffee at the hotel across the street. We helped ourselves twice. My dinner tonight consisted mostly of cannoli and chocolate-covered strawberries. And I washed them down with Jack and Coke. The hotel is classy and as we were still in our business casual dress, we felt like actual adults.
We had some funny stories and decided that Thursday nights at the Symphony should become a new tradition. Especially because the next concert is titled "Barbara Streisand's Songbook." Eh, maybe we'll skip next week.
Monday, February 20
Dear Abby
My roommate, "Drake," and I get along great. We didn't know each other before we moved in together, but things have worked out swimmingly. For example, I had enough stuff to furnish the entire apartment (except for his bedroom) and he had nothing except for bedroom furniture when he moved to the city. We haven't had any fights yet and I know I would feel comfortible approaching him with any problems that I had about our living arrangements.
Four months ago, for Drake's birthday, his girlfriend, "Sadie," gave him twelve martini glasses. They are very nice and he uses them often because he usually drinks cocktails in the evening. (He lives in Milwaukee but doesn't like beer!) When he first received them we joked about not having any room to store them in the cupboard, but not to worry about it because we were sure to break some of them soon. This weekend, after four months, the first glass was broken.
And I was the one to break it. while I was washing dishes. his dishes. Well, they're actually my dishes, except for the broken glass, but it was his dirty dishes. But I was washing them. And one broke. He wasn't home at the time but I told him afterwards. He laughed and said he was surprised it hadn't happened earlier.
Do I replace the broken glass? Or give him money for it? Would I give him one-twelfth of the price of the entire set? I just thought about this today. I hadn't even considered giving him money. I hadn't even offered. It just seems like we share the household stuff and I wouldn't expect him to pay me if he broke something like a dish or a glass. But I feel differently about single ticket items, like a TV or a book.
Which leads me to the next twist. A month ago, Sadie borrowed a book of mine. She spilled something on it or dropped in the sink - she got it wet - and instead of returning it damaged, she bought me a new one. I wish she hadn't done that though, because, really, I'm not going to read it again.
So, I feel that a precident has been set. But a book, easily found and purchased, is different than one of a dozen martini glasses.
Four months ago, for Drake's birthday, his girlfriend, "Sadie," gave him twelve martini glasses. They are very nice and he uses them often because he usually drinks cocktails in the evening. (He lives in Milwaukee but doesn't like beer!) When he first received them we joked about not having any room to store them in the cupboard, but not to worry about it because we were sure to break some of them soon. This weekend, after four months, the first glass was broken.
And I was the one to break it. while I was washing dishes. his dishes. Well, they're actually my dishes, except for the broken glass, but it was his dirty dishes. But I was washing them. And one broke. He wasn't home at the time but I told him afterwards. He laughed and said he was surprised it hadn't happened earlier.
Do I replace the broken glass? Or give him money for it? Would I give him one-twelfth of the price of the entire set? I just thought about this today. I hadn't even considered giving him money. I hadn't even offered. It just seems like we share the household stuff and I wouldn't expect him to pay me if he broke something like a dish or a glass. But I feel differently about single ticket items, like a TV or a book.
Which leads me to the next twist. A month ago, Sadie borrowed a book of mine. She spilled something on it or dropped in the sink - she got it wet - and instead of returning it damaged, she bought me a new one. I wish she hadn't done that though, because, really, I'm not going to read it again.
So, I feel that a precident has been set. But a book, easily found and purchased, is different than one of a dozen martini glasses.
Tuesday, February 14
Not a defeat, nor an embarassment
Last Friday I slept in a church.
Jake and Katie are trying to start a Youth Group in their church for high school kids. They organized a Lock-In. They were going to go Midnight Bowling - despite the "lock-in" name they would be going out. They planned this for weeks. But then, at the last minute, actually the last 8 hours, Katie became sick. They needed another adult to chaperone, so they asked me. Of course, I said Yes, otherwise, this would be a pointless posting going nowhere. (When I was little, I had so much trouble with that last word. I wanted to read it as "now here." Secretly I still do.)
Jake and I arrived at the church early. I scoped out the place so that I would feel comfortable. Then the kids started to arrive. All three of them. Three. And one was technically not in the proper age group. He's 19 but not in college and Jake just wants to be a positive influence for him. So, we sort of had 2-1/2 kids. And 2 chaperones. Jake wanted to cancel, but I asked him to stick with it. We have no idea what sort of positive influence we might have on these kids.
We all talked. We ordered pizza. I went to pick it up. I lost Jake's credit card along the way. Oops. I went looking for the lost credit card. I didn't find it. We decided to go for a drive. We drove around until the bowling began. We ended up singing along with the radio including the Four Non-Blondes. Bowling was fun but I was tired. The night went well. We watched Office Space until everyone fell asleep. I'm not sure if we changed any lives this weekend, but I certainly don't think anyone is worse off than when they woke up on Friday morning.
Jake and Katie are trying to start a Youth Group in their church for high school kids. They organized a Lock-In. They were going to go Midnight Bowling - despite the "lock-in" name they would be going out. They planned this for weeks. But then, at the last minute, actually the last 8 hours, Katie became sick. They needed another adult to chaperone, so they asked me. Of course, I said Yes, otherwise, this would be a pointless posting going nowhere. (When I was little, I had so much trouble with that last word. I wanted to read it as "now here." Secretly I still do.)
Jake and I arrived at the church early. I scoped out the place so that I would feel comfortable. Then the kids started to arrive. All three of them. Three. And one was technically not in the proper age group. He's 19 but not in college and Jake just wants to be a positive influence for him. So, we sort of had 2-1/2 kids. And 2 chaperones. Jake wanted to cancel, but I asked him to stick with it. We have no idea what sort of positive influence we might have on these kids.
We all talked. We ordered pizza. I went to pick it up. I lost Jake's credit card along the way. Oops. I went looking for the lost credit card. I didn't find it. We decided to go for a drive. We drove around until the bowling began. We ended up singing along with the radio including the Four Non-Blondes. Bowling was fun but I was tired. The night went well. We watched Office Space until everyone fell asleep. I'm not sure if we changed any lives this weekend, but I certainly don't think anyone is worse off than when they woke up on Friday morning.
Monday, February 13
Stood Up
I was supposed to go out for lunch with my boss today. But he stood me up for a marketing meeting. But that was ok. We'll go some other time. And this gave me a chance to catch up on some work during that lunch hour.
Tuesday, February 7
They made me do it.
Four Jobs I've Had:
1. Book store clerk / Calendar Man
2. French Fry Artist at the BK Lounge
3. Upward Bound Tutor to the stars
4. Deli Clerk (and sometimes Lobster handler when the seafood lady was on lunch)
Four Movies I Can Watch Over And Over
1. LOTR
2. The Blues Brothers
3. Austin Powers
4. Love, Actually
Four Places I Have Lived
1. Jessup, PA
2. Moscow, PA
3. Boston, MA
4. Milwaukee, WI (no more commonwealths for me!)
Four TV Shows I Love ("Love" is a strong word)
1. Law & Order (when the cast included Benjamin, Jerry, Stephen, Angie, Sam, and Epatha)
2. Ducktales
3. M*A*S*H
4. The West Wing (Seasons I - III)
Four Places I've Vacationed
1. Greece - Athens, Santorini, Delphi, Rhodes, Mykonos, Istanbul (not in Greece)
2. Myrtle Beach
3. Alaska
4. Grand Canyon
Four Of My Favorite Dishes
1. Frank (Mexican Lasagna? It needed a name. Cory thought "Frank" sounded good.)
2. Mom's Christmas Eggs
3. Turkey on white toast w/ lettuce and mayo
4. Sushi is good
Four Sites I Visit Daily
1. Guaranty Bank (just to be sure my money is still there)
2. Our firm's client interface
3. milwaukee.craigslist.org
4. Tom's Blog (because he links to everyone else's)
Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now
1. Camping at the old Hunting Cabin
2. 18A's table in the dining hall
3. The Olympic Countess
4. Dancing with my friends
Monday, February 6
Friday, February 3
Sushi
Jake and I went for a sushi dinner last night at the local tres chic Japanese/Korean bar. We had a great time. I don't think I've ever been so full on sushi. The highlight of the evening for Jake was the four transvestites that were also dining there. My back was to the room so I didn't get to see them. We also enjoyed watching our cute waitress work her magic on all of the guys in the room. I have to admit though: we also tipped her more than we should have.
Wednesday, February 1
Treat Day
Yesterday was my Treat Day at work. Every Tuesday we all take turns to bring in a treat for everyone else in the office. With about 30 coworkers, one's Treat Day occurs a little over twice a year. Treats are usually bagels, donuts, or homemade baked goods.
This week, it was my turn. I had hoped to design a treat that would coincide with the State of the Union Address. You know, little telephone-shaped cookies or gingerbread men with large ears. However, I could not come up with something clever, so I fell back on the old safety - N&N Cookies (names have been changed for trademark reasons).
Sunday evening I went to the grocery store and picked up my supplies. I prepared two batches. It took me at least 2 hours and I ate quite a few cookies during the process. I messed up the recipe by mixing the ingredients in the wrong order. They didn't look right and when they were baking they began to burn. So, I took them out of the oven earlier than the recipe called for. They looked a little funny, as I earlier wrote, but they tasted fine. I went to bed - no problem. I almost left a note for Jake and Katie to try them in the morning, but thank heavens I didn't.
I woke up on Monday morning just fine. I trudged over to the gym and did my 36 laps (My new minimum - Hurrah!) However, during my final lap I had an incredible urge to get to the bathroom. Right. Then. Immediately. I hopped out of the pool - literally. I skipped a shower. I'm also going to skip the next part of the story with only the comment that gyms with pools should develop "water friendly toilet paper."
I continued along with my morning ritual. Dry off, contacts, avoid the naked old men, try not to sing along with the radio - you know, the usual. Ten minutes later I was back at home. And I immediately made my way to the bathroom. Ok. Something was wrong. I decided not to go to work as I didn't like the idea of running to the men's room at random times. And I have never used a sick day before, so it would be somewhat of an adventure.
The strange thing was, though, that I didn't feel sick. I was already wide awake, so I wasn't going back to bed. I took the opportunity to clean my bathroom. And then the kitchen. And then my room. I talked to Jake and Katie, who had eaten dinner with me the night before but they were fine. So, I figured that it must have been the undercooked cookies. I'm glad that I didn't serve them to the whole office. Well, sort of glad. It would have been a funny experience, especially because it wasn't painful and I never felt sick.
I'm only comfortable telling you this story because everyone at work already knows it. I had ended up going in to the office in the afternoon and my coworkers were nervous about me spreading my germs. So, to keep them from ostracizing me, I had to explain that it was something I made. I then had to promise them that I would buy my treat and not bake for Treat Day.
This week, it was my turn. I had hoped to design a treat that would coincide with the State of the Union Address. You know, little telephone-shaped cookies or gingerbread men with large ears. However, I could not come up with something clever, so I fell back on the old safety - N&N Cookies (names have been changed for trademark reasons).
Sunday evening I went to the grocery store and picked up my supplies. I prepared two batches. It took me at least 2 hours and I ate quite a few cookies during the process. I messed up the recipe by mixing the ingredients in the wrong order. They didn't look right and when they were baking they began to burn. So, I took them out of the oven earlier than the recipe called for. They looked a little funny, as I earlier wrote, but they tasted fine. I went to bed - no problem. I almost left a note for Jake and Katie to try them in the morning, but thank heavens I didn't.
I woke up on Monday morning just fine. I trudged over to the gym and did my 36 laps (My new minimum - Hurrah!) However, during my final lap I had an incredible urge to get to the bathroom. Right. Then. Immediately. I hopped out of the pool - literally. I skipped a shower. I'm also going to skip the next part of the story with only the comment that gyms with pools should develop "water friendly toilet paper."
I continued along with my morning ritual. Dry off, contacts, avoid the naked old men, try not to sing along with the radio - you know, the usual. Ten minutes later I was back at home. And I immediately made my way to the bathroom. Ok. Something was wrong. I decided not to go to work as I didn't like the idea of running to the men's room at random times. And I have never used a sick day before, so it would be somewhat of an adventure.
The strange thing was, though, that I didn't feel sick. I was already wide awake, so I wasn't going back to bed. I took the opportunity to clean my bathroom. And then the kitchen. And then my room. I talked to Jake and Katie, who had eaten dinner with me the night before but they were fine. So, I figured that it must have been the undercooked cookies. I'm glad that I didn't serve them to the whole office. Well, sort of glad. It would have been a funny experience, especially because it wasn't painful and I never felt sick.
I'm only comfortable telling you this story because everyone at work already knows it. I had ended up going in to the office in the afternoon and my coworkers were nervous about me spreading my germs. So, to keep them from ostracizing me, I had to explain that it was something I made. I then had to promise them that I would buy my treat and not bake for Treat Day.
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