I get the best birthday presents ever. Last year my husband gave me a LoveSac, and this year I got the Primary Songbook and....
A Dwight Shrute bobble head!!! It's a lot of fun and has provided minutes upon minutes of entertainment so far.
Everyone has my permission to be jealous.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
It's not really a fire
One of the things I'm looking forward to the most about moving to a new apartment is the likelihood of getting my peaceful Sunday afternoons back. I haven't had them for a while. Most weeks it's the guy downstairs blasting his deluge of random music (I've heard both Reggae and ABBA) at wall-shaking volumes, but yesterday something else woke me from my attempt to catch up on sleep lost at Girls' Camp.
It was the (very loud and obnoxious) fire alarm.
"Oh, no" I moaned, as I slowly rolled out of bed. Scott checked the hallways but there was no sign of smoke, so we decided it was a punk kid pulling the alarm for fun. I called 911, explained the situation, and the volunteer fire department came out to turn it off. Unfortunately, the guy had broken the alarm when he'd pulled it, so it took the firemen 40 minutes to disable it. Stupid kid.
Prank alarm-pulling happens a lot in this complex (not a single person evacuated the building quickly, they only left after about 20 minutes when they couldn't take the noise anymore) - but then again so does arson. There has been a rash of fires recently, and the sign in my stairwell put up by management asking for information about the arsonist has been burned at the edges by a lighter. Someone thinks they're funny, apparently.
I don't.
It was the (very loud and obnoxious) fire alarm.
"Oh, no" I moaned, as I slowly rolled out of bed. Scott checked the hallways but there was no sign of smoke, so we decided it was a punk kid pulling the alarm for fun. I called 911, explained the situation, and the volunteer fire department came out to turn it off. Unfortunately, the guy had broken the alarm when he'd pulled it, so it took the firemen 40 minutes to disable it. Stupid kid.
Prank alarm-pulling happens a lot in this complex (not a single person evacuated the building quickly, they only left after about 20 minutes when they couldn't take the noise anymore) - but then again so does arson. There has been a rash of fires recently, and the sign in my stairwell put up by management asking for information about the arsonist has been burned at the edges by a lighter. Someone thinks they're funny, apparently.
I don't.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Off to Camp
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. :)
I leave in 30 minutes - here's to hoping I make it back alive. :)
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.
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