There are reasons I'm looking forward to Girls' Camp this next week, and reasons I'm not. I'm super-excited to using my new tent and sleeping bag for the first time, but not looking forward to the muggy weather. Although I can't wait to get outside and just enjoy nature, I'll miss hot showers. Bed bugs surely won't follow me all the way to camp - but ticks, mosquitoes, and spiders will gladly take their place in eating me alive. Also, I'm not sure how I'll survive without my computer for a week. Or my husband.
I leave in 30 minutes - here's to hoping I make it back alive. :)
Monday, July 09, 2007
Friday, June 08, 2007
Long-Lost
"Hey. This is Jessica, your - with all sarcasm set aside - long-lost best friend. I'm really really tired of hearing about your life through a mass email. So call me, so we can talk...or something. 'K bye."
With the accident having happened earlier that evening (see post below), I had gotten more phone calls than usual - which is never very many. "Wow, I'm suddenly popular," I said to my husband as I realized there was yet another missed call and voice message. I dialed my voice mail and started walking to the kitchen to get some food. When I heard Jessica's voice, though, I stopped dead in my tracks. I couldn't believe it.
Jessica and I had become best friends right away, as far as I can remember. I can't think of a time when I knew her that we weren't. We were like all best friends should be. Rarely apart, Jessica and I never ran out of things to talk about. We knew how to push one another's buttons, which facial expression meant what, how to cheer each other up, and when we shouldn't try. I trusted her with nearly everything. We were there for each other through some of the most difficult times in our lives. We cried on each other's shoulders - perhaps as often as not. Those days when I couldn't stand being home anymore, Jessica was the person whose house I would go to. I would show up on her doorstep, tears streaming down my face, and she would let me stay. Sometimes my stepfather would try to keep me from going, but I would push past him, citing my mother's permission. I always paid for it the next morning though, and sometimes for days afterwards. My stepfather did not like being crossed.
When I left for BYU Jessica and I kept in touch at first, but as I have never been good at that sort of thing, I quickly fell behind in my communication. I know I made her angry, and hurt - and after a while I assumed she never wanted to speak to me again. I figured that if I was wrong, she would contact me. Apparently we were both figuring the same thing for 2 years. But it was she who took the first step and called me, and I'm so glad she did. I'd missed her.
With the accident having happened earlier that evening (see post below), I had gotten more phone calls than usual - which is never very many. "Wow, I'm suddenly popular," I said to my husband as I realized there was yet another missed call and voice message. I dialed my voice mail and started walking to the kitchen to get some food. When I heard Jessica's voice, though, I stopped dead in my tracks. I couldn't believe it.
Jessica and I had become best friends right away, as far as I can remember. I can't think of a time when I knew her that we weren't. We were like all best friends should be. Rarely apart, Jessica and I never ran out of things to talk about. We knew how to push one another's buttons, which facial expression meant what, how to cheer each other up, and when we shouldn't try. I trusted her with nearly everything. We were there for each other through some of the most difficult times in our lives. We cried on each other's shoulders - perhaps as often as not. Those days when I couldn't stand being home anymore, Jessica was the person whose house I would go to. I would show up on her doorstep, tears streaming down my face, and she would let me stay. Sometimes my stepfather would try to keep me from going, but I would push past him, citing my mother's permission. I always paid for it the next morning though, and sometimes for days afterwards. My stepfather did not like being crossed.
When I left for BYU Jessica and I kept in touch at first, but as I have never been good at that sort of thing, I quickly fell behind in my communication. I know I made her angry, and hurt - and after a while I assumed she never wanted to speak to me again. I figured that if I was wrong, she would contact me. Apparently we were both figuring the same thing for 2 years. But it was she who took the first step and called me, and I'm so glad she did. I'd missed her.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
On the Way to the Gym
The evening started out great, and actually ended pretty well too - but there was a slight disturbance somewhere in the middle. Around 5:30, to be specific.
I-270 is never a fun road to be on, from what I hear, especially in the evenings. But I was on it, during rush hour, heading up to Rockville to the climbing gym to try out rock climbing for the first time. (side note: it's FANTASTIC.) I passed an accident on the side of the road, and as I glanced over at it a second accident (a pretty bad one too) occured 2 cars in front of me. The man right in front of me slammed on his brakes, as did I - only I couldn't stop in time, and I hit him. Not very hard, but hard enough to roll him a few inches forward. I swore. Two minutes later we heard another accident happen nearby, and one of the police officers on the scene swore. A lot. It looked to be a long night for him. The gentleman I had hit and I were lucky enough to be the only 2 involved in our little portion of the chain reaction, so we could exchange information and be on our way. Simple enough. Neither of us were hurt, but were both a little shaken - it was both my first accident and his.
Now I can never again say proudly that I've never been the driver in an accident. Sad. It was kind of like losing my virginity - only not as much fun.
I-270 is never a fun road to be on, from what I hear, especially in the evenings. But I was on it, during rush hour, heading up to Rockville to the climbing gym to try out rock climbing for the first time. (side note: it's FANTASTIC.) I passed an accident on the side of the road, and as I glanced over at it a second accident (a pretty bad one too) occured 2 cars in front of me. The man right in front of me slammed on his brakes, as did I - only I couldn't stop in time, and I hit him. Not very hard, but hard enough to roll him a few inches forward. I swore. Two minutes later we heard another accident happen nearby, and one of the police officers on the scene swore. A lot. It looked to be a long night for him. The gentleman I had hit and I were lucky enough to be the only 2 involved in our little portion of the chain reaction, so we could exchange information and be on our way. Simple enough. Neither of us were hurt, but were both a little shaken - it was both my first accident and his.
Now I can never again say proudly that I've never been the driver in an accident. Sad. It was kind of like losing my virginity - only not as much fun.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
PDL
I don't mind PDA. I think it's lovely when people display their affection publicly - with a kiss, a kind word, or a service such as holding the door. I smile when I see a man leading a woman by the small of her back, helping her out of the car, or giving her the larger piece of cake even though she pretends to not want it (citing excuses about her almost non-existant waist). I laugh merrily when I see a woman being oh-so-patient when her husband has gotten them lost, or graciously acknowledging and accepting a man's act of chivalry. I think to myself that I hope they are as happy with their loved one as I am with mine.
When Public Displays of Affection turn into Public Displays of Lust, however, my stomach turns and I wonder what the world is coming to.
Woman #1 got onto the plane first and sat down next to me. We made eye contact and exhanged hello's. Woman #2 boarded the plane about 10 minutes later, and, upon seeing Woman #1, said, "Well hello pretty lady. What's your name?" This sent Woman #1 into fits of giggles - but I failed to see what was quite so funny. (She used this joke 6 more times during the flight, and Woman #1 dissolved into giggling hysterics each time. Unbeknownst to me, this joke doesn't get old.) It quickly became obvious that the two 40-year-old women were more than just friends, and it seemed as though they were both on heavy doses of Viagra for women - because they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. The biggest tip-off of their relationship, though, was when they started feeding fruit pieces to each other and sucking on one another's fingers in the process (complete with sound effects). Only a part of my intense nausea was due to the bumpy flight - it was 5 hours of illness and awkwardnes.
Where was I when the word "decency" got cut from the English language?
When Public Displays of Affection turn into Public Displays of Lust, however, my stomach turns and I wonder what the world is coming to.
Woman #1 got onto the plane first and sat down next to me. We made eye contact and exhanged hello's. Woman #2 boarded the plane about 10 minutes later, and, upon seeing Woman #1, said, "Well hello pretty lady. What's your name?" This sent Woman #1 into fits of giggles - but I failed to see what was quite so funny. (She used this joke 6 more times during the flight, and Woman #1 dissolved into giggling hysterics each time. Unbeknownst to me, this joke doesn't get old.) It quickly became obvious that the two 40-year-old women were more than just friends, and it seemed as though they were both on heavy doses of Viagra for women - because they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. The biggest tip-off of their relationship, though, was when they started feeding fruit pieces to each other and sucking on one another's fingers in the process (complete with sound effects). Only a part of my intense nausea was due to the bumpy flight - it was 5 hours of illness and awkwardnes.
Where was I when the word "decency" got cut from the English language?
Friday, April 27, 2007
Going hungry
Normally, I don't have a weak stomach. I have heard many a repulsive topic discussed at the dinner table and not flinched. I grew up with my father's friends, after all. I suppose I pride myself on this somewhat - I enjoy my qualities that make me less than 100% girl. But right now my stomach is churning and I don't think I can eat anything, though my belly is also growling for want of food.
I have few problems with bugs, snakes and spiders - as long as they stay out of my house. The exception is cockroaches. Unfortunately for me, they thrive in DC - especially in apartment buildings like mine - and at first I would gasp and freeze every time I saw one in my kitchen. Scott would come to my rescue as I squealed and closed my eyes (not some of my prouder moments). I grew used to seeing them, though, often more than one at a time and of greatly varying sizes. I became ferocious in my attempt to eliminate every bug that I saw, setting out homemade traps (none of which have worked so far, but I'm not done trying) and squishing every visible insect with great zeal. I'm pretty sure I growled sometimes too.
This morning didn't start out being the best morning ever, but it was decent. I got my Nutrition homework finished, emptied the shower water with a bucket (our bathtub won't drain), and went to get breakfast. I was really excited to eat my bowl of Frosted Flakes and banana. I picked up the bag of cereal and emptied some of the contents into my bowl, which I then picked up. Before I could even get the milk out of the refrigerator, 2 cockroaches came crawling out of my cereal bowl!!! I screamed and dropped the bowl on the floor, spilling cereal and more cockroaches all over the floor. I think there were about 8 of them. After a couple of minutes of panting in the corner, afraid to move, I cleaned up the cereal off the floor and threw the rest of the bag away - but I refuse to go back into the kitchen.
I also don't think I'll be eating anything soon.
I have few problems with bugs, snakes and spiders - as long as they stay out of my house. The exception is cockroaches. Unfortunately for me, they thrive in DC - especially in apartment buildings like mine - and at first I would gasp and freeze every time I saw one in my kitchen. Scott would come to my rescue as I squealed and closed my eyes (not some of my prouder moments). I grew used to seeing them, though, often more than one at a time and of greatly varying sizes. I became ferocious in my attempt to eliminate every bug that I saw, setting out homemade traps (none of which have worked so far, but I'm not done trying) and squishing every visible insect with great zeal. I'm pretty sure I growled sometimes too.
This morning didn't start out being the best morning ever, but it was decent. I got my Nutrition homework finished, emptied the shower water with a bucket (our bathtub won't drain), and went to get breakfast. I was really excited to eat my bowl of Frosted Flakes and banana. I picked up the bag of cereal and emptied some of the contents into my bowl, which I then picked up. Before I could even get the milk out of the refrigerator, 2 cockroaches came crawling out of my cereal bowl!!! I screamed and dropped the bowl on the floor, spilling cereal and more cockroaches all over the floor. I think there were about 8 of them. After a couple of minutes of panting in the corner, afraid to move, I cleaned up the cereal off the floor and threw the rest of the bag away - but I refuse to go back into the kitchen.
I also don't think I'll be eating anything soon.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Maddening
In my profession, politeness is a must. Smiling is a constant, care and understanding the expectation. In my profession, the "extra mile" isn't extra. In my profession, the customer is always right. But...what if they're not???
I wasn't supposed to be working the registers today - but Chris Wallace needed a lunch break, so I agreed to cover for him. The man whom I will call Ali (his real name is much longer and I can't even pronounce it, much less remember it - but 'Ali' is in there somewhere) walked into the store and inwardly I groaned. "Not again," I thought. I tried to keep a grimace off my face.
"What are we returning today?" I asked, with as much politeness as I could muster. This man returns *everything*. He has bought thousands of dollars worth of stuff and returned almost all of it. After he's done using it, of course. Ali is meticulous about keeping all of his receipts, but everything he brings back is very used or broken in some way. He complains about the quality of the products and, since he has his receipts, gets back the full amount he paid for it. That's the thing - REI has an exceptional return policy that unfortunately leaves us vulnerable to people such as Ali. And there's nothing I can do about it.
"Is there anything our sales staff can do better for you? It would seem that nothing we recommend works out for you." He mumbled something in reply about how he's just looking for quality products, and that his stepmother buys everything from Germany and it lasts for 12+ years. I really wanted to tell him that from now on he, too, should buy everything from Germany and never come back to REI - obviously he's not finding the "quality" that he's looking for here. I also wanted to mention that none of our other customers seem to have a problem with everything they buy breaking on them - we do sell quality products.
"Do you guys have an employee of the month award?" he inquired, out of the blue. I replied that we did. He had the nerve to suggest, "Maybe you should have a returner-of-the-year-award." "You'd certainly be winning," I quipped, frustrated that I couldn't say more. He knows we know what he's doing, and knows we can't do anything about it!!! We've been tracking his returns in a logbook (perhaps, when we gather enough documentation, there *will* be something we can do), and when I was finally finished with him I logged another $150 worth of stuff. That jerk. He gave me another 20 minutes of work, recording his returns and tagging all 8 items with "Damaged" and a description of the problem.
The next time I see him, I'm going to tell him that he can take his sorry butt somewhere else and never step foot in my store again.
Well, I would - but we don't say things like that in my profession.
I wasn't supposed to be working the registers today - but Chris Wallace needed a lunch break, so I agreed to cover for him. The man whom I will call Ali (his real name is much longer and I can't even pronounce it, much less remember it - but 'Ali' is in there somewhere) walked into the store and inwardly I groaned. "Not again," I thought. I tried to keep a grimace off my face.
"What are we returning today?" I asked, with as much politeness as I could muster. This man returns *everything*. He has bought thousands of dollars worth of stuff and returned almost all of it. After he's done using it, of course. Ali is meticulous about keeping all of his receipts, but everything he brings back is very used or broken in some way. He complains about the quality of the products and, since he has his receipts, gets back the full amount he paid for it. That's the thing - REI has an exceptional return policy that unfortunately leaves us vulnerable to people such as Ali. And there's nothing I can do about it.
"Is there anything our sales staff can do better for you? It would seem that nothing we recommend works out for you." He mumbled something in reply about how he's just looking for quality products, and that his stepmother buys everything from Germany and it lasts for 12+ years. I really wanted to tell him that from now on he, too, should buy everything from Germany and never come back to REI - obviously he's not finding the "quality" that he's looking for here. I also wanted to mention that none of our other customers seem to have a problem with everything they buy breaking on them - we do sell quality products.
"Do you guys have an employee of the month award?" he inquired, out of the blue. I replied that we did. He had the nerve to suggest, "Maybe you should have a returner-of-the-year-award." "You'd certainly be winning," I quipped, frustrated that I couldn't say more. He knows we know what he's doing, and knows we can't do anything about it!!! We've been tracking his returns in a logbook (perhaps, when we gather enough documentation, there *will* be something we can do), and when I was finally finished with him I logged another $150 worth of stuff. That jerk. He gave me another 20 minutes of work, recording his returns and tagging all 8 items with "Damaged" and a description of the problem.
The next time I see him, I'm going to tell him that he can take his sorry butt somewhere else and never step foot in my store again.
Well, I would - but we don't say things like that in my profession.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Last Day
I was happily working two part-time jobs until an opportunity came up at REI that I couldn't pass up. A higher-paying, specialized, full-time position with great health benefits and paid training in Seattle and Boston. A nice side perk is the 7-minute (as opposed to the 45 that it takes me to get to Baltimore) drive to work every day. Although I love the Maryland Science Center, I just couldn't refuse REI's offer and gave my two weeks notice exactly two weeks ago. Today was my last day.
Things I will miss: my colleagues, Science on a Sphere shows, lunch in the office with Wendy, Dave, and Janine, conversations with Christian.
Things I won't miss: bratty children who think they don't need a chaperone, the tempermental SpaceLink closet door, exhibits that break.
Things I will miss: my colleagues, Science on a Sphere shows, lunch in the office with Wendy, Dave, and Janine, conversations with Christian.
Things I won't miss: bratty children who think they don't need a chaperone, the tempermental SpaceLink closet door, exhibits that break.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Piano
Here she is...my new love. It took Scott and I months to save and find a piano that we really liked, and finally we did. I play Phantom of the Opera or Les Miserables, and Scott fills our home with beautfiul classical music. I'm so happy.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Mispronounced
It started out as an okay day. It wasn't great, but I had little choice but to live it. A couple of nights before I had fallen ill - my body's way of reminding me (in case I'd forgotten) that I am a woman and not pregnant. I was still feeling the effects two days later.
I clocked in at the Maryland Science Center at 9:15 - the usual time - and was met with a frazzled boss, who began, by way of greeting, telling me that some school groups had scheduled science programs for next week at the last minute, and that Lauren wouldn't be back by then, and that Chris would be busy with something else, so could I please please please substitute for her? I agreed, but only because for once she had said please. Shortly thereafter I ran into Joel, who informed me that his dying mother had eaten applesauce and had a Pepsi yesterday but refused to take her medication, while the day before she had taken her medication but eaten nothing, and how he was going to sue the rest home for their lack of caretaking ability.
The day continued with both its ups and downs. And while some of the day was tolerable, for the most part the minutes crawled by like years, in much the same way that Tortoise did toward the finish line. I couldn't wait to get home - I had an evening of REI shopping and basketball watching planned, which I knew would take my mind off of my pounding head and aching body. Oh, how I wish that my body reacted kindly to drugs! I was glad to reach 2:30 and the beginning of my Science on a Sphere show - I enjoy doing the shows and knew that when it was over I would only have 2 more hours of work. I began my show with a small audience of four: a 4-year-old boy and a 6-year-old girl, and two adults that I correctly assumed were their parents. The children were very interested in the information I had for them about Earth, our moon, and Mars. I cut my show a little bit short, though, making sure that they would have time to get to the Planetarium show at 3. We ended with questions about whether or not humans would ever live on Mars - an interesting prospect, but not a feasible one anytime soon. Either we need to give Mars an atmosphere, or we ourselves have to evolve into a non-oxygen-breathing species.
I turned off my microphone and turned around, ready to reset the Sphere and lock up, when I felt a little hand tugging on my shirt. "Excuse me," the 4-year-old boy said. I turned back around, saw the little boy looking up at me, and bent forward, expecting a question about space and hoping it was something that I could answer.
"Grassy-ass."
He said this very determinedly and distinctly; he was obviously pleased with himself. He watied for a response. I blanched, and tried to formulate a sentence with which to respond. My efforts proved in vain. My mind was instead occupied wondering if I had heard him correctly, what precisely he was implying about my derriere, and how exactly I was meant to handle that comment. I tried to look for help in his mother's direction but my neck muscles failed me and I stayed staring at the boy. Despite all of those thoughts racing through my mind at once, each vying for attention equally voraciously, my face must have looked blank, because the boy said, "It means 'thank you'."
Suddenly a light with the brightness of Alpha Centauri went on in my brain, and understanding dawned. The little boy was speaking Spanish! I laughed, very much aloud, and was grateful to now know what the appropriate response was for his comment. "De nada!" I replied, and the little boy beamed.
My afternoon was definitely made better by that exchange of words, and judging by the brightness of the boy's smile as he walked away, so was his.
I clocked in at the Maryland Science Center at 9:15 - the usual time - and was met with a frazzled boss, who began, by way of greeting, telling me that some school groups had scheduled science programs for next week at the last minute, and that Lauren wouldn't be back by then, and that Chris would be busy with something else, so could I please please please substitute for her? I agreed, but only because for once she had said please. Shortly thereafter I ran into Joel, who informed me that his dying mother had eaten applesauce and had a Pepsi yesterday but refused to take her medication, while the day before she had taken her medication but eaten nothing, and how he was going to sue the rest home for their lack of caretaking ability.
The day continued with both its ups and downs. And while some of the day was tolerable, for the most part the minutes crawled by like years, in much the same way that Tortoise did toward the finish line. I couldn't wait to get home - I had an evening of REI shopping and basketball watching planned, which I knew would take my mind off of my pounding head and aching body. Oh, how I wish that my body reacted kindly to drugs! I was glad to reach 2:30 and the beginning of my Science on a Sphere show - I enjoy doing the shows and knew that when it was over I would only have 2 more hours of work. I began my show with a small audience of four: a 4-year-old boy and a 6-year-old girl, and two adults that I correctly assumed were their parents. The children were very interested in the information I had for them about Earth, our moon, and Mars. I cut my show a little bit short, though, making sure that they would have time to get to the Planetarium show at 3. We ended with questions about whether or not humans would ever live on Mars - an interesting prospect, but not a feasible one anytime soon. Either we need to give Mars an atmosphere, or we ourselves have to evolve into a non-oxygen-breathing species.
I turned off my microphone and turned around, ready to reset the Sphere and lock up, when I felt a little hand tugging on my shirt. "Excuse me," the 4-year-old boy said. I turned back around, saw the little boy looking up at me, and bent forward, expecting a question about space and hoping it was something that I could answer.
"Grassy-ass."
He said this very determinedly and distinctly; he was obviously pleased with himself. He watied for a response. I blanched, and tried to formulate a sentence with which to respond. My efforts proved in vain. My mind was instead occupied wondering if I had heard him correctly, what precisely he was implying about my derriere, and how exactly I was meant to handle that comment. I tried to look for help in his mother's direction but my neck muscles failed me and I stayed staring at the boy. Despite all of those thoughts racing through my mind at once, each vying for attention equally voraciously, my face must have looked blank, because the boy said, "It means 'thank you'."
Suddenly a light with the brightness of Alpha Centauri went on in my brain, and understanding dawned. The little boy was speaking Spanish! I laughed, very much aloud, and was grateful to now know what the appropriate response was for his comment. "De nada!" I replied, and the little boy beamed.
My afternoon was definitely made better by that exchange of words, and judging by the brightness of the boy's smile as he walked away, so was his.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Comb-over Over Done
It's hard to tell in this picture, but April and I saw the most wonderful (and when I say that I mean the worst) comb-over in the history of comb-overs. We were walking along in the National Air and Space museum, laughing at Ted as he ran from space shuttle to Russian missile to the Hubble like a kid in a candy store - wide-eyed and giggling - when into our vision sauntered an Asian man who hadn't taken his Rogaine that morning. The odd thing was that his hair was missing only from one side of his head - the other side seemed to have no problem growing hair, since he had tucked back behind his left ear the hair growing out of the right side of his head. It came loose a couple of times, and he flipped his hair back (reminiscent of a blond cheerleader with a sultry look on her face), carefully tucking it back safely and securely behind his left ear.
I turned to April, grinning, and saw immediately that she had noticed him too and was just fascinated as I was. "I want a picture of that!" I whispered. She laughed, "Me too!" and off we went in search of a good photo opportunity. Unfortunately, the man never seemed to turn around at the right moment and walked away from us very quickly. We eventually lost him in the throng of people and gave up, but not before April had snapped this one picture, to be cherished forever.
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