Just a post to let everyone know that the Nashville Predators are really looking great this year! If you haven't been to a game yet this season, go for it!
I've been to the first two regular-season games. So far (and I do realize that it's only two games' worth of observation) I have been really impressed by their energy, their passing skills, and their defense around their own net. These are three things that I've thought they needed to improve upon in the past years (note that "shoot the puck!" isn't one of my three) and I'm so glad to see how well they're doing.
I have to admit that I was pretty nervous about this year. We got rid of some star players and I was wondering how the leftover guys and any new guys they might sign would do. The leftover guys would have to step up their game and be able to handle a lot more ice time and the new guys would have to try and gel with their new team. I really thought this season was going to start out rough... but get better as the year went on. Hopefully.
So, I was thrilled to see how great the team looked right out of the gate! It looks like our guys from last year are ready to show their stuff with their additional ice time, and I feel like our new guys are really trying to make a name for themselves with their new fan base.
Players I like so far, based on the two games I've seen: Zanon (a.k.a., Shotty McBlockblock), Legwand (he is looking GREAT this year!), Arnott (I've always liked him and am happy to see him get more ice time and recognition), Gelinas (I think he'll bring a lot to our team this year), and Radulov (loved him last year, too -- he's really working for it!).
Also, Mason looks like a total stud out there. I was nervous based on the pre-season stuff I had heard, but he pulled it all together for the regular-season games and looks at least as good as Vokoun. I am so excited for him!
Les and I will probably buy a 13-game pack. Les travels so much and so randomly that it's hard plan ahead and find games that we know he'll be home for. We've bought our tickets opportunistically so far and will probably continue to do that for a lot of the games. But we are loving all the excitement of having a team that's doing great and looking good, despite their off-season drama (I think Barry Trotz looks like he has aged 10 years over the summer)!
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Nintendo DS Addiction
As if I needed another technological addiction, Les has gotten me hooked on playing Brain Age and Brain Age II on his Nintendo DS. The games are a series of training sessions designed to develop various parts of your brain, followed by a test that tells you what age your brain is functioning at. There's a lot of math and counting, but also some word stuff like reading aloud or unscrambling rotating letters. The games also have a Sudoku feature (I think I never fully understood Sudoku until I tried it electronically) and a "relaxing" game that's similar to Tetris.
Aside from tracking your own progress in the training games from day-to-day, you can also compare yourself to others who are playing on the same memory card, and that adds a fun level of competition. It's been interesting to see how Les is good at some training games (he's waaaay better than I am at the syllable count and rock-paper-scissors) and how I am good at others (I am better at the word blend and calendar count training).
The game also has little side "conversation-starters" -- both of you draw a firetruck and then can compare drawings, for instance. Les and I have had fun noticing that his drawings always have some kind of action going on in them, whereas mine seem to be a still-life of some sort (boy - girl differences?); and that I usually draw things facing to the left, whereas he faces everything to the right.
It seems that our brain age levels vary from day to day. Les's lowest brain age has been 21 (that's 17 years younger than his actual brain age, for those who are keeping track!) and my lowest brain age has been 26 (not as dramatic a difference from my actual brain age, but still good).
The only bad thing is that I don't get to practice up when he's on the road because he takes the Nintendo DS with him. The interesting thing is that he seems to be a lot "younger" when he's NOT around me. He says I make him "stupid with love." I just think he can focus more. But "stupid with love" is a cute idea!
Aside from tracking your own progress in the training games from day-to-day, you can also compare yourself to others who are playing on the same memory card, and that adds a fun level of competition. It's been interesting to see how Les is good at some training games (he's waaaay better than I am at the syllable count and rock-paper-scissors) and how I am good at others (I am better at the word blend and calendar count training).
The game also has little side "conversation-starters" -- both of you draw a firetruck and then can compare drawings, for instance. Les and I have had fun noticing that his drawings always have some kind of action going on in them, whereas mine seem to be a still-life of some sort (boy - girl differences?); and that I usually draw things facing to the left, whereas he faces everything to the right.
It seems that our brain age levels vary from day to day. Les's lowest brain age has been 21 (that's 17 years younger than his actual brain age, for those who are keeping track!) and my lowest brain age has been 26 (not as dramatic a difference from my actual brain age, but still good).
The only bad thing is that I don't get to practice up when he's on the road because he takes the Nintendo DS with him. The interesting thing is that he seems to be a lot "younger" when he's NOT around me. He says I make him "stupid with love." I just think he can focus more. But "stupid with love" is a cute idea!
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Officially on vacation!
Greetings from Seattle! It has been quite a long day, but I wanted to post a quick update on our vacation while I wait for the Tylenol PM (known as "mother's little helper" -- even if I'm not a mother) to kick in, ensuring me a very good night's rest tonight! I don't know how often we'll have internet access on this trip, so I thought I had better take advantage of it while I can.
We left home at 3:30 a.m. today and have been up for 20 hours so far, with a long night's rest of four hours last night to keep us going. Needless to say, we've gone beyond tired into "punchy" and we're all being silly and goofy but have a tendency to fall asleep randomly mid-sentence. It's actually a lot of fun, and it's totally different to be really, really tired when you don't have to get up and go to work the next morning. All we have to do tomorrow is get on our tour bus at 9 a.m., ride to Vancouver, BC, and then get onto our Celebrity cruise ship. Should be easy, even if we're half-asleep.
To that end, we decided to see a bit of Seattle today instead of caving into our urge to take a five-hour nap this afternoon. We rented a car and then took Les's mom and his aunt and uncle downtown, stopping to get our National Parks Passports stamped at the Klondike Gold Rush site. The NP site was really well-done, but we didn't have too much time to spend there because Les couldn't find parking and was circling the block. The NP site is right near the Seahawks stadium and parking was $30 everywhere because there was a game that evening (love you, Matty!).
We then got a call from the other half of the family (we met up with three relatives who live locally) and we went up to the top of the Space Needle. The floor of the observation deck actually slopes downward toward the edge so that rainwater can drain off it easily, but it also gives you the impression that you're drawn uncontrollably towards the ledge of a very tall building. It's a bit unnerving, especially if you are afraid of heights. We had a very clear day (we saw four different mountain peaks on the plane ride in!) so we really got to see a lot of the city from the top of Space Needle.
For dinner, the party-of-13 family all went to Old Spaghetti Factory, where my parents treated us to dinner.
As Les's Aunt Dolores said, "We've had such an adventure today and we haven't even started cruising yet!"
It was a great day and we're looking forward to a good night's rest and a great day tomorrow.
p.s. It is SUNNY in Seattle -- how awesome is that? And the weather is about 75 degrees. We are in heaven!
We left home at 3:30 a.m. today and have been up for 20 hours so far, with a long night's rest of four hours last night to keep us going. Needless to say, we've gone beyond tired into "punchy" and we're all being silly and goofy but have a tendency to fall asleep randomly mid-sentence. It's actually a lot of fun, and it's totally different to be really, really tired when you don't have to get up and go to work the next morning. All we have to do tomorrow is get on our tour bus at 9 a.m., ride to Vancouver, BC, and then get onto our Celebrity cruise ship. Should be easy, even if we're half-asleep.
To that end, we decided to see a bit of Seattle today instead of caving into our urge to take a five-hour nap this afternoon. We rented a car and then took Les's mom and his aunt and uncle downtown, stopping to get our National Parks Passports stamped at the Klondike Gold Rush site. The NP site was really well-done, but we didn't have too much time to spend there because Les couldn't find parking and was circling the block. The NP site is right near the Seahawks stadium and parking was $30 everywhere because there was a game that evening (love you, Matty!).
We then got a call from the other half of the family (we met up with three relatives who live locally) and we went up to the top of the Space Needle. The floor of the observation deck actually slopes downward toward the edge so that rainwater can drain off it easily, but it also gives you the impression that you're drawn uncontrollably towards the ledge of a very tall building. It's a bit unnerving, especially if you are afraid of heights. We had a very clear day (we saw four different mountain peaks on the plane ride in!) so we really got to see a lot of the city from the top of Space Needle.
For dinner, the party-of-13 family all went to Old Spaghetti Factory, where my parents treated us to dinner.
As Les's Aunt Dolores said, "We've had such an adventure today and we haven't even started cruising yet!"
It was a great day and we're looking forward to a good night's rest and a great day tomorrow.
p.s. It is SUNNY in Seattle -- how awesome is that? And the weather is about 75 degrees. We are in heaven!
Saturday, August 18, 2007
What you really wear
I won't go into too much detail about this link because I'm referencing a blog post by someone I don't know that Les posted on his Facebook page, and I'm so far removed from this idea being in any way connected to me that I don't want to take any credit even finding it. All I did was think this blog post was great enough to post it here so that some of you could enjoy it.
Follow this link and you'll be connected to a blog called 43 folders. The post I've linked to is about determining what clothes in your closet you really do wear and what clothes you don't. It's aimed at simplifying your life and clearing out clutter. These are concepts I love, but don't necessarily practice, so I try to put myself in the way of exposure to these types of ideas as frequently as possible in the hope that they'll sink in and I'll start being more zen, less cluttered, and more practical.
Follow this link and you'll be connected to a blog called 43 folders. The post I've linked to is about determining what clothes in your closet you really do wear and what clothes you don't. It's aimed at simplifying your life and clearing out clutter. These are concepts I love, but don't necessarily practice, so I try to put myself in the way of exposure to these types of ideas as frequently as possible in the hope that they'll sink in and I'll start being more zen, less cluttered, and more practical.
Potato Peelers
Les and I have tried the tricky Japanese shirt-folding technique with quite a bit of success, so this easy potato-peeling technique from Japan seems appealing (get it? a-PEEL-ing!), too. I am not a big fan of peeling potatoes because I'm afraid of somehow nicking my potato-holding hand with the peeler (although this has never actually happened <--- irrational fear!). Also, it seems like I've never been in a situation that required fewer than 25 peeled potatoes, so its always a long and tedious process. The end reward of creamy, delicious mashed potatoes makes it worth while, of course, but what if there was a better way?
Unfortunately, I do not have any potatoes on-hand because they're just not a very summery food to me. I guess I'm just posting this with the hopes that someone out there will try it and tell me if it works. Any research assistants out there?
One of the commentors on the potato peeling page said that this Japanese process takes longer than peeling potatoes with a knife. He or she may be correct, but it seems so much more rewarding to see the skin come off in one swoosh. I mean, would you rather sit at a stop light if it meant that you could drive 5 miles without being in stop-and-go traffic, or would you rather just inch along for the 5 miles because it meant that you were constantly in motion? Wait! I may have come up with the universal question that defines our personalities and divides us up into two diverse groups! Potato-rific!
Unfortunately, I do not have any potatoes on-hand because they're just not a very summery food to me. I guess I'm just posting this with the hopes that someone out there will try it and tell me if it works. Any research assistants out there?
One of the commentors on the potato peeling page said that this Japanese process takes longer than peeling potatoes with a knife. He or she may be correct, but it seems so much more rewarding to see the skin come off in one swoosh. I mean, would you rather sit at a stop light if it meant that you could drive 5 miles without being in stop-and-go traffic, or would you rather just inch along for the 5 miles because it meant that you were constantly in motion? Wait! I may have come up with the universal question that defines our personalities and divides us up into two diverse groups! Potato-rific!
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Working Ahead
I would not consider myself a deliberate, plan-ahead type of person, but my job (admin assistant) requires that I work at least a few weeks into the future in my boss's calendar -- making appointments, rearranging meetings, and planning for travel. As a result, I often find myself unaware of what the actual date is, and sometimes even have a hard time keeping track of the current month. On very rare occasions, the year somehow escapes me, although those moments are usually in December or January -- the transitory months between years when everyone else is confused, too.
One such time-warp event occurred tonight, as I was brushing my teeth, and I honestly lost my head for about 10 intense minutes.
Here's the scenario: We are a few weeks away from a long vacation to Alaska, and because we will be crossing into Canada on our trip, we need to have current passports. As I was brushing my teeth (brush, brush, brush), this little Q&A was playing out in my mind:
Q: Hmmm. How long are passports actually valid?
A: I think they're valid for ten years, if I remember correctly.
Q: And how long ago did we actually get our passports?
A: Maybe a year or two after we got married. It's probably been about ten years now...
At this point, you must imagine a small choke, some spitting, a clatter of a toothbrush in the sink (unhygienic, I know, but emergencies are emergencies!), and a rush of bare feet on carpeted floors (in other words, insert no sound effects here). I dug out my passport from its secret hiding place (yeah, you wish you knew!) and stared at the date. My passport reads: Date of expiration 20 AUG / 08.
20 August! Why, that's (gasp, gasp, gasp) six days from now! Already I am calculating how long it might take to get a passport renewed. I'm instantly sitting at the computer, typing "renew US passport" into Google. I'm reading government web pages frantically, looking for timelines, expedition costs, and online applications. I'm planning my Wednesday: I'll go to our local passport office as soon as possible in the morning. Nothing else matters. Nothing else!
Then, slowly, I have the calming realization that "08" means next year. We are in fact living in what is popularly known as "07." The tingling sensation slowly drains from my arms. My eyes blink. I take a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay. Really.
Based on current passport issuance trends, I should actually be freaked out now if I am planning a trip out of the country any time after August 20 of next year, but for the moment I'm going to stay focused on this month and this trip and put off worrying about next year until a later date. Hopefully, I'll still be at least three months ahead of schedule anyway.
One such time-warp event occurred tonight, as I was brushing my teeth, and I honestly lost my head for about 10 intense minutes.
Here's the scenario: We are a few weeks away from a long vacation to Alaska, and because we will be crossing into Canada on our trip, we need to have current passports. As I was brushing my teeth (brush, brush, brush), this little Q&A was playing out in my mind:
Q: Hmmm. How long are passports actually valid?
A: I think they're valid for ten years, if I remember correctly.
Q: And how long ago did we actually get our passports?
A: Maybe a year or two after we got married. It's probably been about ten years now...
At this point, you must imagine a small choke, some spitting, a clatter of a toothbrush in the sink (unhygienic, I know, but emergencies are emergencies!), and a rush of bare feet on carpeted floors (in other words, insert no sound effects here). I dug out my passport from its secret hiding place (yeah, you wish you knew!) and stared at the date. My passport reads: Date of expiration 20 AUG / 08.
20 August! Why, that's (gasp, gasp, gasp) six days from now! Already I am calculating how long it might take to get a passport renewed. I'm instantly sitting at the computer, typing "renew US passport" into Google. I'm reading government web pages frantically, looking for timelines, expedition costs, and online applications. I'm planning my Wednesday: I'll go to our local passport office as soon as possible in the morning. Nothing else matters. Nothing else!
Then, slowly, I have the calming realization that "08" means next year. We are in fact living in what is popularly known as "07." The tingling sensation slowly drains from my arms. My eyes blink. I take a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay. Really.
Based on current passport issuance trends, I should actually be freaked out now if I am planning a trip out of the country any time after August 20 of next year, but for the moment I'm going to stay focused on this month and this trip and put off worrying about next year until a later date. Hopefully, I'll still be at least three months ahead of schedule anyway.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Construction Complete!
I left on Friday and my world was construction-encrusted. When I returned home today, my world was nearly construction-free! It's a summer miracle!
It seems that most of the Briley Parkway/Elm Hill Pike construction is truly done, and the construction crews somehow managed to knock it out while I was away for the weekend. This created a "how long have I been gone?" sensation as I unexpectedly found myself driving on orange-barrel-free, newly paved roads on the way to my house this Sunday evening.
Although I barely remember what the roads were like before the days of construction, and although I never really hated all the construction messing up the traffic flow near my house, I do have to say that the current status is like driving through a paradise. It's so smooth, so roomy, so efficient. I am totally loving life now!
It seems that most of the Briley Parkway/Elm Hill Pike construction is truly done, and the construction crews somehow managed to knock it out while I was away for the weekend. This created a "how long have I been gone?" sensation as I unexpectedly found myself driving on orange-barrel-free, newly paved roads on the way to my house this Sunday evening.
Although I barely remember what the roads were like before the days of construction, and although I never really hated all the construction messing up the traffic flow near my house, I do have to say that the current status is like driving through a paradise. It's so smooth, so roomy, so efficient. I am totally loving life now!
Friday, July 20, 2007
Viva la Manifesto!
First, let me start by saying that a person can never use the phrase "Viva la ______" too many times. I just had that realization (many of you cleverer people probably have known this for years) when I started typing the title of this post. I thought, "Oh, I probably have used 'Viva la ______' already at some point. I should search my blog for it before I use it again. I don't want to be redundant." Then I thought, "No, you can never use 'Viva la ______' too many times. It's a classic!" I just want you to know where I stand on this issue before we go any further.
Now, on to the actual topic of this post: An Incomplete Manifesto. I love the ideology of this piece of writing and, after losing it for about two years, I was happy to stumble on to it again (okay, I actually just thought of it tonight, and then googled it, and here it is -- deliberate stumbling). I used to have this Incomplete Manifesto posted in my cubicle at work at Borders. When I changed companies, I thought it was a bit too radical to post at my new job, so it didn't make the transition with me to my current cubicle. Some people would say that I shouldn't let things like where I work and who I work with determine the "flags I fly," but I beg to differ. Although I do admire people who are who they are all the time regardless of the situation they're in, I am more intrigued by people who manage to keep their work personas and home personas at least a little bit separate. I think it helps to define the mental space between work-life and home-life, but it also allows some flexibility to be who you need to be for that particular moment.
At any rate, I thought I would post it here for some others to enjoy. That way I'll know right where it is when I need it again.
Viva la repetition!
Now, on to the actual topic of this post: An Incomplete Manifesto. I love the ideology of this piece of writing and, after losing it for about two years, I was happy to stumble on to it again (okay, I actually just thought of it tonight, and then googled it, and here it is -- deliberate stumbling). I used to have this Incomplete Manifesto posted in my cubicle at work at Borders. When I changed companies, I thought it was a bit too radical to post at my new job, so it didn't make the transition with me to my current cubicle. Some people would say that I shouldn't let things like where I work and who I work with determine the "flags I fly," but I beg to differ. Although I do admire people who are who they are all the time regardless of the situation they're in, I am more intrigued by people who manage to keep their work personas and home personas at least a little bit separate. I think it helps to define the mental space between work-life and home-life, but it also allows some flexibility to be who you need to be for that particular moment.
At any rate, I thought I would post it here for some others to enjoy. That way I'll know right where it is when I need it again.
Viva la repetition!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Scooting Around
Through zaadz.com's newsletter, I read about this woman who is traveling around the US on her scooter (she's only a few months younger than me, so it was even more interesting to read about her). I knew I would just lose track of her website if I saved it to my Favorites, so I thought I'd post about it here on my blog.
Although I'm quite overwhelmed by the idea of planning for an adventure like the one she is about to go on, I have to say that a sense of excitement coursed through me as I read about her prep work and experiments. At heart, I long to be the wild adventurer, heading out into the unknown wilderness. In reality, I've grown practical and more cautious as I've gotten older. I wouldn't consider myself "dug in" (as my friend Den likes to call folks who won't move houses or change jobs for the rest of their lives), but I'm walking more down that path than the path of wild abandonment.
I think I'm okay with that at the moment. In truth, I'm a really great cheerleader and I can happily live vicariously through other people's experiences. But someday I may run free again, and then I'll be having too much fun to blog about it.
Although I'm quite overwhelmed by the idea of planning for an adventure like the one she is about to go on, I have to say that a sense of excitement coursed through me as I read about her prep work and experiments. At heart, I long to be the wild adventurer, heading out into the unknown wilderness. In reality, I've grown practical and more cautious as I've gotten older. I wouldn't consider myself "dug in" (as my friend Den likes to call folks who won't move houses or change jobs for the rest of their lives), but I'm walking more down that path than the path of wild abandonment.
I think I'm okay with that at the moment. In truth, I'm a really great cheerleader and I can happily live vicariously through other people's experiences. But someday I may run free again, and then I'll be having too much fun to blog about it.
Added an RSS Feed Option
Sick of wondering when I actually get around to posting something on my blog? Well, scroll to the bottom of this page and hit my RSS feed option and you'll never need to wonder. Updates will come to your door (sort of).
First, you'll need to get an RSS reader set up. Les recommended Google's RSS reader, which you can find here. Or you can download FireFox (another internet browser system) and read about their "live bookmarks" option here.
If you're like, "What's RSS?" then you should read this wiki entry about it here. Actually, I need to read it as well, because I am totally clueless. This post could be titled "the blind leading the blind" for all that I know about RSS.
Let me know how it goes. I've also linked my blog to my Facebook account, so if you're a Facebook friend, you can keep up with things online that way.
Remember that I'm a total non-techie, so these are giant steps for me. Gulp.
First, you'll need to get an RSS reader set up. Les recommended Google's RSS reader, which you can find here. Or you can download FireFox (another internet browser system) and read about their "live bookmarks" option here.
If you're like, "What's RSS?" then you should read this wiki entry about it here. Actually, I need to read it as well, because I am totally clueless. This post could be titled "the blind leading the blind" for all that I know about RSS.
Let me know how it goes. I've also linked my blog to my Facebook account, so if you're a Facebook friend, you can keep up with things online that way.
Remember that I'm a total non-techie, so these are giant steps for me. Gulp.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Clapicap
After years of trying to be a rhythmicly-inclined, participating audience member, I have finally come to terms with the fact that I just can't clap when I'm supposed to. I consistently find myself clapping to a different beat as everyone else in the venue, and when I notice it, I have to stop, watch everyone else for a few claps to see when they're clapping, and then jump back in, on-beat. It feels a little like trying to jump in between twirling double-dutch ropes. I was never particularly good at that either.
It could be worse, I suppose. I am at least clapping rhythmically, if off-beat, exactly opposite of everyone else. I could be unable to keep any rhythm at all, meaning that I could never get back on beat with people at any point. As it is now, if I really focus, I can eventually get to the point of blending in with the crowd. I think there is some sort of life symbolism here...
I don't know what to blame this opposite-clapping tendency on. Is it because I sang a lot of spirituals at vespers in high school and people at the sing-a-long were often trying to set themselves apart by clapping in interesting ways? Did I just develop a unique clapping style at that formative age, by association? Or is it because of "Dub Sundays" at our house, where I hear a whole four or five hours of dub music, which emphasizes the off-beat? Or is it just because I'm so unique that I have a hard time going along with the crowd?
I realized half way through this post that I could have actually called this problem that I have a "handicap" since it involves my hands misfiring. People might not have gotten the pun, but I would have laughed about it to myself every time I re-read this post. Instead, I broke out the word "clapicap" (which came to me one night as I was laying in bed, half-asleep), which probably no one will get until they get to this paragraph, but I became obsessed with the perceived cleverness of it and then couldn't walk away from it. "Clapicap" doesn't hold up as well in the light of day, but I'm comitted to it now and have decided to try and work it into today's vernacular.
Let that be a lesson to you all -- the words you think up half-asleep may not be the best tools on your workbench. Clap on!
It could be worse, I suppose. I am at least clapping rhythmically, if off-beat, exactly opposite of everyone else. I could be unable to keep any rhythm at all, meaning that I could never get back on beat with people at any point. As it is now, if I really focus, I can eventually get to the point of blending in with the crowd. I think there is some sort of life symbolism here...
I don't know what to blame this opposite-clapping tendency on. Is it because I sang a lot of spirituals at vespers in high school and people at the sing-a-long were often trying to set themselves apart by clapping in interesting ways? Did I just develop a unique clapping style at that formative age, by association? Or is it because of "Dub Sundays" at our house, where I hear a whole four or five hours of dub music, which emphasizes the off-beat? Or is it just because I'm so unique that I have a hard time going along with the crowd?
I realized half way through this post that I could have actually called this problem that I have a "handicap" since it involves my hands misfiring. People might not have gotten the pun, but I would have laughed about it to myself every time I re-read this post. Instead, I broke out the word "clapicap" (which came to me one night as I was laying in bed, half-asleep), which probably no one will get until they get to this paragraph, but I became obsessed with the perceived cleverness of it and then couldn't walk away from it. "Clapicap" doesn't hold up as well in the light of day, but I'm comitted to it now and have decided to try and work it into today's vernacular.
Let that be a lesson to you all -- the words you think up half-asleep may not be the best tools on your workbench. Clap on!
I guess I'm the only one impressed...
After my June 1 (2007) post on the great progress I've seen the construction crews making on Briley Parkway, my husband sent me this Tennessean article. Obviously, I am the only person in the state of TN who is impressed with how quickly this project is moving along.
I've only lived here two years, so I just must not have reached the same level of critical mass of impatience with this project that people who have lived here since the beginning of this mess have reached.
I still say that it's really coming along, so my kudos remain in effect. I just wanted to give my blog readers the other side of the story.
I've only lived here two years, so I just must not have reached the same level of critical mass of impatience with this project that people who have lived here since the beginning of this mess have reached.
I still say that it's really coming along, so my kudos remain in effect. I just wanted to give my blog readers the other side of the story.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Well, at least I'm better off than these guys...
I had to laugh when I read this article on Reuters Oddly Enough this morning:
ATLANTA (Reuters) - Two U.S. car thieves failed to make their getaway in a car they had just stolen because they couldn't figure out how to use its manual transmission, a witness said on Wednesday.
The teenagers armed with a gun approached a man outside a pizza restaurant in Marietta, Georgia, late on Monday. They stole his wallet and the keys to his Honda Accord, got into the car but couldn't make it start because it had stick shift, according to John Williamson, 18, a restaurant employee.
"The kid was just sitting in the car trying to start it but he had no idea what to do. He looked dumbfounded. The only thing he had going was the radio," said Williamson who witnessed the scene.
While the thief was trying to start the car, restaurant employees called the police who arrived and caught the teenagers as they tried to escape into nearby woods.
Unlike many parts of the world, the majority of cars in the United States are automatic and many drivers are unused to driving "stick shift" vehicles, in which a clutch pedal must be depressed to change gear.
ATLANTA (Reuters) - Two U.S. car thieves failed to make their getaway in a car they had just stolen because they couldn't figure out how to use its manual transmission, a witness said on Wednesday.
The teenagers armed with a gun approached a man outside a pizza restaurant in Marietta, Georgia, late on Monday. They stole his wallet and the keys to his Honda Accord, got into the car but couldn't make it start because it had stick shift, according to John Williamson, 18, a restaurant employee.
"The kid was just sitting in the car trying to start it but he had no idea what to do. He looked dumbfounded. The only thing he had going was the radio," said Williamson who witnessed the scene.
While the thief was trying to start the car, restaurant employees called the police who arrived and caught the teenagers as they tried to escape into nearby woods.
Unlike many parts of the world, the majority of cars in the United States are automatic and many drivers are unused to driving "stick shift" vehicles, in which a clutch pedal must be depressed to change gear.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Movies in the Park
I went to "Movies in the Park" tonight at Centennial Park. If you have never been to this family-friendly event under the stars, I highly recommend it. I have only been one time before tonight (to see Grease), but it was such a lovely experience two weeks ago that I knew I had to go at least once more before the summer season ended.
I got there around 6:45 p.m. (which is late, if you're trying to get a good seat, even though the movie doesn't start till 8:15 or so), so I didn't have too many blanket-spot options. It was a choice between either far to one side, waaaay in the back, or right up front. I went with right up front because although I knew the sound would be loud (it's turned up to concert volume levels so that all the people waaaay in the back can hear, too), I also knew that I'd be able to see well and that the loud sound would cut down on any crowd distractions.
Last time I went, I didn't bring any pillows and regretted it, as the grass is quite level and once you lay down on the blanket, you can see the stars really well, but you have to crane your neck weirdly to see the screen and even then it looks all distorted because of the angle. This time, I had an extra blanket for my head, so I was all set.
My friend Kenzie came with me and got to the park in time to grab a Rotier's sandwich and an ice cream cone (I'd had pizza earlier, but joined her for the ice cream experience), and then we settled in and got ready for the movie.
Tonight's feature was Singing in the Rain, a movie that I'd seen a few years ago, but couldn't remember the plot of at all . . . so it was basically like seeing a whole new movie. Of course, by the end of the first scene I was completely in love with the dashing Gene Kelly, and our on-screen / off-screen romance continued until the credits were rolling at the end. The American Film Institute rated this movie #10 of their Top 100 movies, and if you ever see it, you'll know why. Unlike some musicals, which have at least one somber, downer scene, this musical is light and fun and entertaining the whole way through. Great dancing and great songs! I'll be tapping my way to work tomorrow, while humming "Good morning, good morning..."
The highlight of my week so far.
I got there around 6:45 p.m. (which is late, if you're trying to get a good seat, even though the movie doesn't start till 8:15 or so), so I didn't have too many blanket-spot options. It was a choice between either far to one side, waaaay in the back, or right up front. I went with right up front because although I knew the sound would be loud (it's turned up to concert volume levels so that all the people waaaay in the back can hear, too), I also knew that I'd be able to see well and that the loud sound would cut down on any crowd distractions.
Last time I went, I didn't bring any pillows and regretted it, as the grass is quite level and once you lay down on the blanket, you can see the stars really well, but you have to crane your neck weirdly to see the screen and even then it looks all distorted because of the angle. This time, I had an extra blanket for my head, so I was all set.
My friend Kenzie came with me and got to the park in time to grab a Rotier's sandwich and an ice cream cone (I'd had pizza earlier, but joined her for the ice cream experience), and then we settled in and got ready for the movie.
Tonight's feature was Singing in the Rain, a movie that I'd seen a few years ago, but couldn't remember the plot of at all . . . so it was basically like seeing a whole new movie. Of course, by the end of the first scene I was completely in love with the dashing Gene Kelly, and our on-screen / off-screen romance continued until the credits were rolling at the end. The American Film Institute rated this movie #10 of their Top 100 movies, and if you ever see it, you'll know why. Unlike some musicals, which have at least one somber, downer scene, this musical is light and fun and entertaining the whole way through. Great dancing and great songs! I'll be tapping my way to work tomorrow, while humming "Good morning, good morning..."
The highlight of my week so far.
Monday, June 18, 2007
A new ipod
Well, I took my little sad-faced ipod into the Mac store in Green Hills (yes, aren't you impressed that I'm driving a stick shift in Green Hills?!) after making an appointment online. I tried the drop-in method at the Mac store on Saturday night which just didn't work out well. So back I went today.
The upshot is that it looks like I'll be getting a new ipod. This one is fried, and he didn't think they could even save what's on the hard drive. Thank goodness for having a warranty that still has three more months on it. Now, I have to find the Keane CD (Under the Iron Sea) that I've been craving. It's not on our Mac right now because Les accidentally erased our entire iTunes library a few months ago, and I had downloaded the Keane CD before the Great iTunes Disaster of 2007. I guess I'll be digging through some boxes. Wish me luck!
The upshot is that it looks like I'll be getting a new ipod. This one is fried, and he didn't think they could even save what's on the hard drive. Thank goodness for having a warranty that still has three more months on it. Now, I have to find the Keane CD (Under the Iron Sea) that I've been craving. It's not on our Mac right now because Les accidentally erased our entire iTunes library a few months ago, and I had downloaded the Keane CD before the Great iTunes Disaster of 2007. I guess I'll be digging through some boxes. Wish me luck!
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Father's Day (my sister's perspective)
My sister is totally creative when it comes to cards and presents. She always makes her own cards out of family photos and then makes up her own funny captions (based on my other post about the difficulty I have finding Father's Day cards for my dad, it seems that I could learn something from my sister!). Sometimes she draws pictures or uses construction paper. I have not gotten any glue-and-macaroni cards yet, but I wouldn't be surprised to see one arrive in the mail from her.
For Father's Day, my sister got my dad his favorite thing EVER -- chocolate! She got him one candy bar for each year that he's been her dad. For those of you who don't know my sister, that's 30 candy bars! Around each bar, she wrapped a piece of paper with a memory of my dad written on it. When I read the list, I laughed out loud a few times and got a little teary by the end. Although I know some of these items are "you had to be there" moments, I am posting the list here for folks to see because I feel that it's such a great snapshot of the way my dad is and what a fun and interesting person we have as a father.
(1) Red wagon rides from the top of the hill all the way to the house
(2) Convincing Mom to let me go visit Jonathan (my sister's husband) in CA before we were married
(3) Getting the joke about 20 seconds later than everyone else and bursting out laughing, spitting tea all over me and the table in Russia
(4) Your Russian dances at your daughters' weddings
(5) Going to the Farm Show
(6) Hiking the Appalachian Trail with us in several states
(7) Making jokes when Lisa’s head got pooped on by a seagull at Sea World
(8) Saying that the huge Saint Bernard in a nearby yard would clean up after me when I got threw up on our road trip out west
(9) Waking me up with a drum made out of a Quaker Oatmeal container after a nap
(10) Rescuing a wild and weak stray cat (Twinkie) from the farm
(11) Going along with my great idea to vacuum Twinkie to reduce the cat hair around the house, then getting scratched by Twinkie as I operated the vacuum
(12) Asking if I needed money (деньги) in Russian
(13) Hiking up to Katadin with us to finish the Appalachian Trail
(14) Never making it through a whole movie without falling asleep, but talking about it as if you had watched the whole thing
(15) Cleaning up Twinkie’s puke for all those years
(16) Joking about sending Uncle Chauncey a video of stunt bike tricks after he fell off his bike and broke his hip
(17) Trying to keep Lisa and I in line during family prayers when we would always start laughing
(18) Staying up late to put all our Christmas presents together
(19) Stacking up change on the table to get me to eat my veggies
(20) Making me cry at every meal before we went to Russia, because whatever we were having was the only thing that they served in Russia, and if I couldn’t finish my plate, I would never survive in Russia. Interestingly enough it worked, and I ate everything in Russia while Lisa lived off Tootsie Rolls
(21) For always asking “What’s for dessert?”
(22) Helping me to get a clear version of Mona Lisa
(23) Taking care of Charlie (our dog) and making him fat and happy
(24) Being supportive of whatever it was that I was interested in or wanted to do
(25) For cursing when you found the moldy spaghetti sauce I had thrown out in the trash ("We can just eat around the mold...")
(26) Picking us up almost every night when we hiked the AT through PA
(27) Making sure the house is stocked with my favorite foods when we come home to visit
(28) Hiding in corners around your office to scare me when I was walking around
(29) Warming up the car for Mom and I in the winter time, so we wouldn’t be cold
(30) Cleaning off the porch of dead animal parts that the cats had left for us as presents before we went to school so that we never even knew about it
Dad, I hope you can feel the love, even if you don't read about it here!
For Father's Day, my sister got my dad his favorite thing EVER -- chocolate! She got him one candy bar for each year that he's been her dad. For those of you who don't know my sister, that's 30 candy bars! Around each bar, she wrapped a piece of paper with a memory of my dad written on it. When I read the list, I laughed out loud a few times and got a little teary by the end. Although I know some of these items are "you had to be there" moments, I am posting the list here for folks to see because I feel that it's such a great snapshot of the way my dad is and what a fun and interesting person we have as a father.
(1) Red wagon rides from the top of the hill all the way to the house
(2) Convincing Mom to let me go visit Jonathan (my sister's husband) in CA before we were married
(3) Getting the joke about 20 seconds later than everyone else and bursting out laughing, spitting tea all over me and the table in Russia
(4) Your Russian dances at your daughters' weddings
(5) Going to the Farm Show
(6) Hiking the Appalachian Trail with us in several states
(7) Making jokes when Lisa’s head got pooped on by a seagull at Sea World
(8) Saying that the huge Saint Bernard in a nearby yard would clean up after me when I got threw up on our road trip out west
(9) Waking me up with a drum made out of a Quaker Oatmeal container after a nap
(10) Rescuing a wild and weak stray cat (Twinkie) from the farm
(11) Going along with my great idea to vacuum Twinkie to reduce the cat hair around the house, then getting scratched by Twinkie as I operated the vacuum
(12) Asking if I needed money (деньги) in Russian
(13) Hiking up to Katadin with us to finish the Appalachian Trail
(14) Never making it through a whole movie without falling asleep, but talking about it as if you had watched the whole thing
(15) Cleaning up Twinkie’s puke for all those years
(16) Joking about sending Uncle Chauncey a video of stunt bike tricks after he fell off his bike and broke his hip
(17) Trying to keep Lisa and I in line during family prayers when we would always start laughing
(18) Staying up late to put all our Christmas presents together
(19) Stacking up change on the table to get me to eat my veggies
(20) Making me cry at every meal before we went to Russia, because whatever we were having was the only thing that they served in Russia, and if I couldn’t finish my plate, I would never survive in Russia. Interestingly enough it worked, and I ate everything in Russia while Lisa lived off Tootsie Rolls
(21) For always asking “What’s for dessert?”
(22) Helping me to get a clear version of Mona Lisa
(23) Taking care of Charlie (our dog) and making him fat and happy
(24) Being supportive of whatever it was that I was interested in or wanted to do
(25) For cursing when you found the moldy spaghetti sauce I had thrown out in the trash ("We can just eat around the mold...")
(26) Picking us up almost every night when we hiked the AT through PA
(27) Making sure the house is stocked with my favorite foods when we come home to visit
(28) Hiding in corners around your office to scare me when I was walking around
(29) Warming up the car for Mom and I in the winter time, so we wouldn’t be cold
(30) Cleaning off the porch of dead animal parts that the cats had left for us as presents before we went to school so that we never even knew about it
Dad, I hope you can feel the love, even if you don't read about it here!
Father's Day (a.k.a., I love you, Dad!)
Well, a person really can't let a Father's Day go by without posting a little something about their dad (even though my dad doesn't use the internet and may never see this).
My dad is a very unique individual. I am reminded of this every time I go to buy him a Father's Day card. He's not into normal dad things, or at least what it appears that normal dads are into based on the Father's Day cards available. He doesn't read The Wall Street Journal. He doesn't drink beer. He doesn't oogle at sexy ladies. He doesn't sleep on the sofa in a shirk-my-honey-do-list sort of way. He doesn't obsess about his yard, driving around on his riding lawn mower. He doesn't wear a lot of ties. He doesn't go hunting. He isn't into fixing cars or other stuff around the house. He doesn't grill. He's not into sports. He doesn't use duct tape to repair things. He's not really known for loving to burp and fart. When you have a father like my dad, buying a Father's Day card can be quite challenging.
Here, then, are the topics for Father's Day cards that would work for a guy like my dad (Hallmark, I hope you're listening):
(1) A picture of a dad sitting at a table with all kinds of empty dishes around him (my dad loves to eat).
(2) A picture of a dad cuddling with his kids, reading a book (my dad was the sweetest guy when we were litle -- and he still is today).
(3) A picture of a dad having fun with a dog (my dad is great with pets).
(4) A picture of a dad out in an open field (my dad grew up on a farm and loves nature).
(5) A picture of a dad holding up an empty wallet and smiling in a "yep, that's how it is" kind of way (my dad will always give his girls all the dollars in his wallet before you head back home).
(6) A picture of a dad wearing a funny hat and glasses (my dad loves attention and loves to ham it up).
(7) A picture of a dad riding down a hill on a sled or in a little red wagon (my dad was just a big kid when we were little and loved to play with us).
(8) A picture of a dad shaving with a little girl (not just a little boy) looking up at him (my dad loved to chase us around the house asking us for kisses, with a shaving cream filled face).
(9) A picture of a dad carrying kids on his shoulders or piggy-back or both at once (my dad was a jungle-gym in human form when we were kids).
(10) A picture of a dad tossing a little kid up in the air (dads just know how to have the most fun ever).
Even though I am reminded at least once a year on Father's Day that my dad isn't a "normal" dad, I am so glad to have someone as unique and funny and creative and special in my life. I love you, Dad!
My dad is a very unique individual. I am reminded of this every time I go to buy him a Father's Day card. He's not into normal dad things, or at least what it appears that normal dads are into based on the Father's Day cards available. He doesn't read The Wall Street Journal. He doesn't drink beer. He doesn't oogle at sexy ladies. He doesn't sleep on the sofa in a shirk-my-honey-do-list sort of way. He doesn't obsess about his yard, driving around on his riding lawn mower. He doesn't wear a lot of ties. He doesn't go hunting. He isn't into fixing cars or other stuff around the house. He doesn't grill. He's not into sports. He doesn't use duct tape to repair things. He's not really known for loving to burp and fart. When you have a father like my dad, buying a Father's Day card can be quite challenging.
Here, then, are the topics for Father's Day cards that would work for a guy like my dad (Hallmark, I hope you're listening):
(1) A picture of a dad sitting at a table with all kinds of empty dishes around him (my dad loves to eat).
(2) A picture of a dad cuddling with his kids, reading a book (my dad was the sweetest guy when we were litle -- and he still is today).
(3) A picture of a dad having fun with a dog (my dad is great with pets).
(4) A picture of a dad out in an open field (my dad grew up on a farm and loves nature).
(5) A picture of a dad holding up an empty wallet and smiling in a "yep, that's how it is" kind of way (my dad will always give his girls all the dollars in his wallet before you head back home).
(6) A picture of a dad wearing a funny hat and glasses (my dad loves attention and loves to ham it up).
(7) A picture of a dad riding down a hill on a sled or in a little red wagon (my dad was just a big kid when we were little and loved to play with us).
(8) A picture of a dad shaving with a little girl (not just a little boy) looking up at him (my dad loved to chase us around the house asking us for kisses, with a shaving cream filled face).
(9) A picture of a dad carrying kids on his shoulders or piggy-back or both at once (my dad was a jungle-gym in human form when we were kids).
(10) A picture of a dad tossing a little kid up in the air (dads just know how to have the most fun ever).
Even though I am reminded at least once a year on Father's Day that my dad isn't a "normal" dad, I am so glad to have someone as unique and funny and creative and special in my life. I love you, Dad!
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Money for Nuthin'
My friend Lisa (not me, another Lisa) and I have decided to do some walking after work to get a few extra steps on the ol' step counter. We're supposed to be doing this to burn calories, but on our first trip we walked to Sonic for root beer floats and on the second trip (today) we walked to get Mexican food, so I think it's really more for fun than for dieting thus far. We usually walk about four miles each outing, but I don't know that four miles is enough to burn off a large root beer float and some onion rings, though I must confess that I haven't actually done the math.
As we were walking back from the restaurant, I suggested that we cut through an vacant lot just for the sake of adventure (in general, Lisas love adventure). As we stepped off the road, Lisa (not me, the other Lisa) said, "Maybe we'll find some MONEY!" Just then, I looked down to see a crisp $1 bill on the grass right near her feet. I said, "Look! Money!" Lisa (not me, the other Lisa) was so shocked that she fell down on the ground and started laughing hysterically. "Quick," I said, "Say something about finding a husband out here!" Lisa (not me, the other Lisa) has determined that this is the year she's going to get married, but she isn't even dating anyone at the moment so I thought this magical vacant lot wish fulfillment was worth a try. She said, "I hope I find a husband out here," and we looked around on the ground but didn't see anything that seemed promising.
A friend later pointed out that you probably shouldn't consider a guy laying around in a vacant lot good husband material. I think that's a pretty safe guideline to live by, but you never know...
As we were walking back from the restaurant, I suggested that we cut through an vacant lot just for the sake of adventure (in general, Lisas love adventure). As we stepped off the road, Lisa (not me, the other Lisa) said, "Maybe we'll find some MONEY!" Just then, I looked down to see a crisp $1 bill on the grass right near her feet. I said, "Look! Money!" Lisa (not me, the other Lisa) was so shocked that she fell down on the ground and started laughing hysterically. "Quick," I said, "Say something about finding a husband out here!" Lisa (not me, the other Lisa) has determined that this is the year she's going to get married, but she isn't even dating anyone at the moment so I thought this magical vacant lot wish fulfillment was worth a try. She said, "I hope I find a husband out here," and we looked around on the ground but didn't see anything that seemed promising.
A friend later pointed out that you probably shouldn't consider a guy laying around in a vacant lot good husband material. I think that's a pretty safe guideline to live by, but you never know...
Friday, June 15, 2007
Postcards Post
I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I have a postcard collection. I can't really remember how it started other than I've always loved sending postcards (on road trips I usually send 50-100 postcards a week . . . while Les drives, of course!) because they're just the perfect amount of space (even though I do try to cram a lot in) to say a few things and then be done and on to the next one.
Because I've always enjoyed sending postcards, I guess I just collected free or artsy ones as I traveled to have a ready supply. Slowly my collection grew. Then I inherited the postcard collections of my grandmas and Les's grandmas after they passed away. In just a few years, my collection grew from 100 postcards to 700+! Of course, not all of them are cool postcards, but sometimes that's just the fun of postcards -- a small snapshot of cheesy Americana.
Because I've always enjoyed sending postcards, I guess I just collected free or artsy ones as I traveled to have a ready supply. Slowly my collection grew. Then I inherited the postcard collections of my grandmas and Les's grandmas after they passed away. In just a few years, my collection grew from 100 postcards to 700+! Of course, not all of them are cool postcards, but sometimes that's just the fun of postcards -- a small snapshot of cheesy Americana.
The cool thing about inheriting postcard collections is that some of them were already written on, sometimes sent to and sent from people none of us had ever heard of. It was interesting to see how much it cost to send a postcard back in the days when my Grandma A was still single (1 cent) and to see how vague some of the old addresses were on these cards (Mr. & Mrs. Karpenko, Kief, ND), although I must add that all of my family members have always lived in small towns, so that kind of addressing would probably still work today!
Here are a few excerpts from my collection...
From my Grandpa Laubach to my Grandma Laubach, dated June 6, 1992, from Heidelberg: "Honey, I wish you were here. I miss you. I'm on their fine train, but got a wrong ticket and I wound up in Switzerland!"
From my Grandma Laubach to their employees at the Stihl Chain Saw Shop, no date, but the stamp cost 13 cents, from Los Angeles Airport, probably on their way to Hawaii: "It better be great weather where we are going -- cause we just got here by 9. This is to be a hard day -- just like work or probably a little worse. The crew says the isles are great cause they were there 2 weeks ago."
From someone named Ruth to my Grandma and Grandpa Karpenko, dated October 13, 1940, from Sidney, MT: "Yes, I landed way over here for a change. Yesterday we visited the sugar factory. My, it's wonderful to watch them make the sugar. Well, we must be going to church now. Will see you soon. Nice scenery."
From my Great Uncle George to his sister (my Grandma) Anne before she was married, dated July 7, 1935, from Twin Falls, ID: "Dear Sister Anne, Your both letters are received. The one was addressed to Boise got here about 5 days sooner than the last one. I ain't working yet but may in a short time as I just got in touch with some people around here. Everything is okay with me and was glad to hear that all is fine and well at thome. I may write a letter in a few days or after I'll be someplace else, but you can use the same address yet."
Right now my postcards are organized by state (my favorite state postcards are the ones that show a drawing of the state with all of the regional exports or activities drawn on the map), and then the non-US postcards are together with some other miscellaneous ones. It's been great to live in another part of the US because I've gotten postcards from new areas as we have traveled around a bit down here. And now Les is traveling quite regularly, so my postcard collection continues to grow. It's so much fun to look through them and see all the interesting places people I know have been. I really does give you an urge to shake the dust off your shoes and head out to do some of your own exploring.
On one of Les's recent trips, he bought some funny postcards made by a company called Duckboy. I checked them out online and laughed out loud at a couple of them. My favorite is "Row vs. Wade: The Great American Fishing Controversy." It shows a man fishing in a rowboat and another fishing in waders. To me, this is postcard humor at its finest.
As I've been looking through these old postcards, I've been motivated to write more to people. It's a great way to jot a line to someone and then perhaps leave a snapshot of your life for future generations.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Stuck in Neutral
As an anniversary present, Les took my Honda down to Florida to get it painted. Its original "eggplant" clearcoat has been eaten off by both the Florida and the Tennessee sun rays, and it's only getting worse. Fearing that rust is next, we decided to invest in a new paint job before it was a total crisis situation. Les had a little time off and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to be sweet to me and also visit his mom and sister in Florida in one trip.
The bad news for me is that this leaves me driving our other car, which is a stick shift. I hate driving stick shift. I'm passable at it, but not good, and I don't feel like I'm getting any better. Getting into first is the worst. Getting into first on a hill is the worst of the worst. As a result, the sight of a red light strikes fear into my heart. The sight of a red light where I'm on a slight hill is even worse, and if a car pulls up behind me and inches ever closer to my bumper . . . well, my hands start sweating, my left knee starts shaking violently, and I am convinced I might spend the rest of my life stuck at this light, coasting back ever closer to the car foolishly hugging my rear bumper. Due to stress, I either stall out or totally squeal my tires in these situations, which only makes me more nervous and more likely to stall out again.
To make it worse, my car is the SVT model (although no one outside of Detroit probably knows what that means) so theoretically the driver of my car (me, in this case) has purchased this particular car for its low-pro tires, six-speed transmission, premium gasoline guzzling engine with 178 hp worth of performance . . . not because it's a good "learner car." It's the equivalent of seeing a muscled-out mustang with a blower, two tailpipes emitting flames, and a bumper sticker that says "Born to drag race" stalling out in front of you. Or to put it in Music City terms, it's the equivalent of going to a singer-songwriter performance and noticing that the next performer doesn't know how to tune his guitar.
Although everyone has told me that if I just drive a stick shift for two weeks, I'll become a pro before I know it, I don't know if that's really true for me. I don't feel like I'm making any improvement. Besides, maybe I'm just not meant to drive a stick shift. Maybe my body just isn't made for it (annoyingly weak left leg!).
What if this is just like playing the piano for me? I took lessons for eight years, practiced, did recitals, and at the end of the day, I'm just not good at it. Sure, I can read music and plonk things out, but I still don't understand the general concept of how chords work, how progressions progress, or what makes some notes sound better together than others. Because I'm not technically good (as in, my technique is poor) at it and I also don't understand the theory behind it, I'm just not a lover of playing the piano even this many years later. There's no joy in it for me.
So, I have to accept that I may never be good at driving a stick shift, no matter how long or how often I drive it. I am thinking about becoming a mechanic so I can at least enjoy the technical side of things. But someone might have to drive the stick shift cars I work on into the garage for me.
The bad news for me is that this leaves me driving our other car, which is a stick shift. I hate driving stick shift. I'm passable at it, but not good, and I don't feel like I'm getting any better. Getting into first is the worst. Getting into first on a hill is the worst of the worst. As a result, the sight of a red light strikes fear into my heart. The sight of a red light where I'm on a slight hill is even worse, and if a car pulls up behind me and inches ever closer to my bumper . . . well, my hands start sweating, my left knee starts shaking violently, and I am convinced I might spend the rest of my life stuck at this light, coasting back ever closer to the car foolishly hugging my rear bumper. Due to stress, I either stall out or totally squeal my tires in these situations, which only makes me more nervous and more likely to stall out again.
To make it worse, my car is the SVT model (although no one outside of Detroit probably knows what that means) so theoretically the driver of my car (me, in this case) has purchased this particular car for its low-pro tires, six-speed transmission, premium gasoline guzzling engine with 178 hp worth of performance . . . not because it's a good "learner car." It's the equivalent of seeing a muscled-out mustang with a blower, two tailpipes emitting flames, and a bumper sticker that says "Born to drag race" stalling out in front of you. Or to put it in Music City terms, it's the equivalent of going to a singer-songwriter performance and noticing that the next performer doesn't know how to tune his guitar.
Although everyone has told me that if I just drive a stick shift for two weeks, I'll become a pro before I know it, I don't know if that's really true for me. I don't feel like I'm making any improvement. Besides, maybe I'm just not meant to drive a stick shift. Maybe my body just isn't made for it (annoyingly weak left leg!).
What if this is just like playing the piano for me? I took lessons for eight years, practiced, did recitals, and at the end of the day, I'm just not good at it. Sure, I can read music and plonk things out, but I still don't understand the general concept of how chords work, how progressions progress, or what makes some notes sound better together than others. Because I'm not technically good (as in, my technique is poor) at it and I also don't understand the theory behind it, I'm just not a lover of playing the piano even this many years later. There's no joy in it for me.
So, I have to accept that I may never be good at driving a stick shift, no matter how long or how often I drive it. I am thinking about becoming a mechanic so I can at least enjoy the technical side of things. But someone might have to drive the stick shift cars I work on into the garage for me.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Technological Meltdown
I hesitate to even spend any time typing on this computer at the moment, worried that something may happen to it, thereby shutting me off from the modern age completely. We are experiencing what appears to be some severe technological meltdown in our household, and I feel that it's a miracle that I still have a CD player and a computer (with its multitude of parts) that work.
It started on Friday when we had a brief thunderstorm that wiped out our power for 0.3 seconds, but destroyed our router forever. It was an old router that needed to be replaced anyway, so Les rolled with it and ran out and got a new one and had us back up and running by the end of the work day (I was working from home that day so it mattered a little more than normal, but I still had a lot to do offline, so it was no biggie). After he got the new router installed, he couldn't get it to communicate with our wireless printer unless there was no encryption on our network whatsoever (not a workable solution). After spending three hours on the phone with technical support and another hour or two just messing around, he gave up and went to bed.
Meanwhile, our DVD player also stopped opening or playing, although it was on and pretending to try to open or play. I took it apart to get out the disc that was stuck in there and finally pried the CD out, just barely. Even after taking out all the screws, there were parts that seemed to be melted together or something. Thank goodness for slightly-bendable plastic.
We tried fixing the network again the next day to no avail. On Sunday we dropped in at the Apple store to see if they had any advice for us. They suggested that we purchase the Apple router, saying that it's really easy to set up and we should be up and running in 20 minutes or less. Personally, we would have been happy with anything under five hours, so our expectations were low. It couldn't successfully communicate with our printer either (which is under two years old and an HP and not particularly tricky or anything, but it does have a built-in wireless card that we paid extra for -- hence the drive to try and get the wireless thing to work). Now, we had two new routers that didn't work and no printer unless we connected up wired, which doesn't work great for our crowded house.
Les decided to take the printer down to his mom in FL who doesn't actually need a wireless printer (in case we can never get it to work wirelessly again), and we'll return one router and buy a new printer and a new DVD player.
Then today my ipod stopped working. I got the dreaded (so I hear) "sad ipod" face on my screen. Fortunately, we bought the extended warranty and it's covered until September, but it feels like a close call. I'm actually pretty careful with my ipod (okay, I have dropped it a few times at the gym, and actually fell on it on cement another time . . . so maybe I'm not exactly that careful with it), but I did unplug it from the charger without disconnecting it from the computer first, so Les thought that's maybe what happened.
We're beginning to wonder if there's a message here. I grew up in PA around the Amish, but didn't actually learn much about living "off the grid" other than the fact that many Amish horses are retired racers and if you're an unmarried man there is some flexibility about how much technology you can own and use. Les is basically out of luck there, but maybe that's how he would like it anyway after this past weekend.
If you don't hear from me again, you'll know what happened at least.
It started on Friday when we had a brief thunderstorm that wiped out our power for 0.3 seconds, but destroyed our router forever. It was an old router that needed to be replaced anyway, so Les rolled with it and ran out and got a new one and had us back up and running by the end of the work day (I was working from home that day so it mattered a little more than normal, but I still had a lot to do offline, so it was no biggie). After he got the new router installed, he couldn't get it to communicate with our wireless printer unless there was no encryption on our network whatsoever (not a workable solution). After spending three hours on the phone with technical support and another hour or two just messing around, he gave up and went to bed.
Meanwhile, our DVD player also stopped opening or playing, although it was on and pretending to try to open or play. I took it apart to get out the disc that was stuck in there and finally pried the CD out, just barely. Even after taking out all the screws, there were parts that seemed to be melted together or something. Thank goodness for slightly-bendable plastic.
We tried fixing the network again the next day to no avail. On Sunday we dropped in at the Apple store to see if they had any advice for us. They suggested that we purchase the Apple router, saying that it's really easy to set up and we should be up and running in 20 minutes or less. Personally, we would have been happy with anything under five hours, so our expectations were low. It couldn't successfully communicate with our printer either (which is under two years old and an HP and not particularly tricky or anything, but it does have a built-in wireless card that we paid extra for -- hence the drive to try and get the wireless thing to work). Now, we had two new routers that didn't work and no printer unless we connected up wired, which doesn't work great for our crowded house.
Les decided to take the printer down to his mom in FL who doesn't actually need a wireless printer (in case we can never get it to work wirelessly again), and we'll return one router and buy a new printer and a new DVD player.
Then today my ipod stopped working. I got the dreaded (so I hear) "sad ipod" face on my screen. Fortunately, we bought the extended warranty and it's covered until September, but it feels like a close call. I'm actually pretty careful with my ipod (okay, I have dropped it a few times at the gym, and actually fell on it on cement another time . . . so maybe I'm not exactly that careful with it), but I did unplug it from the charger without disconnecting it from the computer first, so Les thought that's maybe what happened.
We're beginning to wonder if there's a message here. I grew up in PA around the Amish, but didn't actually learn much about living "off the grid" other than the fact that many Amish horses are retired racers and if you're an unmarried man there is some flexibility about how much technology you can own and use. Les is basically out of luck there, but maybe that's how he would like it anyway after this past weekend.
If you don't hear from me again, you'll know what happened at least.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Wee Willie Winkie
Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town, upstairs and downstairs, in his nightgown. Rapping at the windows, crying through the lock, "Are all the children in their beds for now it's 8 o'clock."
This nosey, bossy, peeping-Tom character from a nursery rhyme book that I used to read as a child at my Grandma A's house (I had a Grandma named Anne and a Grandma named Beatrice -- also known as "Grandma A" and "Grandma B") was one of the answers to a clue in my crossword puzzle book last night. I hadn't thought of this little guy in years, but the more that I pondered the poem, the more that I think he and I have quite a bit in common.
Although I don't wear nightgowns, obsess about bedtimes, or yell outside of people's doors, I too take nightly walks through my neighborhood, peering in at the well-lit interiors of apartments, curious to see who has big screen TVs, well-decorated living rooms (people hang things on the walls as if committed to living here for the rest of their lives), toys scattered all over the floor, a crowd hanging out at their place, or bored pets peering out at the exciting outdoor life just beyond their grasp. In these moments, the rooms are a collection of movie screens, lined up on a museum wall, and I march past, peering at each of the snapshots of human existence, piecing together random stories about the characters in the scenes.
Every once in a while, however, someone peers back at me and our eyes meet. The gig is up! They've looked at me looking at them, and I speed up to move quickly on to the next tableau, while they wonder about my story and wait for the next passerby to break up the monotony of the view from their sofa.
This nosey, bossy, peeping-Tom character from a nursery rhyme book that I used to read as a child at my Grandma A's house (I had a Grandma named Anne and a Grandma named Beatrice -- also known as "Grandma A" and "Grandma B") was one of the answers to a clue in my crossword puzzle book last night. I hadn't thought of this little guy in years, but the more that I pondered the poem, the more that I think he and I have quite a bit in common.
Although I don't wear nightgowns, obsess about bedtimes, or yell outside of people's doors, I too take nightly walks through my neighborhood, peering in at the well-lit interiors of apartments, curious to see who has big screen TVs, well-decorated living rooms (people hang things on the walls as if committed to living here for the rest of their lives), toys scattered all over the floor, a crowd hanging out at their place, or bored pets peering out at the exciting outdoor life just beyond their grasp. In these moments, the rooms are a collection of movie screens, lined up on a museum wall, and I march past, peering at each of the snapshots of human existence, piecing together random stories about the characters in the scenes.
Every once in a while, however, someone peers back at me and our eyes meet. The gig is up! They've looked at me looking at them, and I speed up to move quickly on to the next tableau, while they wonder about my story and wait for the next passerby to break up the monotony of the view from their sofa.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
The songs of our youth
I don't mean to over-sentimentalize "the greatest generation" but it does seem that at least the songs of their youth had some style and panache. Think of the Big Bands, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby. Think of the lyrics to God Bless America, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, or even All Shook Up. These are songs you could hear as an 80 year old and think back fondly to the glory days of happy times, a unified America, and a world that seemed a little more simple and predictable than the one you're living in now.
This sentimentality about childhood is harder drum up for those of us who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s, and this fact came home to me this evening while driving home from the grocery store. A song came on the radio that immediately took me back to the year 1983. I was instantly transported into the darkened recesses of my small-town roller rink, cruising along (crossing-over around the corners, of course) to My Angel is a Centerfold. Now that's a classy song (thank you, The J. Geils Band!).
At the age of 9 I had no idea what the lyrics meant and, in fact, remember singing along and kind of muttering through the "centerfold" part in the chorus because I didn't understand what they were saying. Ironically, the song is kind of about lost innocence and about people not being who they appear to be. These were the themes of our age, and it's hard to get sentimental about that.
Well, at least we'll always have the innocence of Puff the Magic Dragon to cling to. Nothing can tarnish that! Right?
This sentimentality about childhood is harder drum up for those of us who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s, and this fact came home to me this evening while driving home from the grocery store. A song came on the radio that immediately took me back to the year 1983. I was instantly transported into the darkened recesses of my small-town roller rink, cruising along (crossing-over around the corners, of course) to My Angel is a Centerfold. Now that's a classy song (thank you, The J. Geils Band!).
At the age of 9 I had no idea what the lyrics meant and, in fact, remember singing along and kind of muttering through the "centerfold" part in the chorus because I didn't understand what they were saying. Ironically, the song is kind of about lost innocence and about people not being who they appear to be. These were the themes of our age, and it's hard to get sentimental about that.
Well, at least we'll always have the innocence of Puff the Magic Dragon to cling to. Nothing can tarnish that! Right?
Do I know you?
I wouldn't call myself an optimist, per se, but I do go through life expecting to be pleasantly surprised at any moment. I am, of course, often disappointed and am not pleasantly surprised, or sometimes I am even unpleasantly surprised, but I still believe deep down that these few moments of unpleasant-surprise-ness are the exception of my life instead of the rule. At any moment, something totally awesome could happen. I can just feel it.
One of the more extreme ways that this belief comes out is that I am constantly thinking that I see someone I know. Not someone I know from work or from church or from my neighborhood, however, but someone who lives across the US or even in another country, someone who has utterly no business being in my city. Yet, I could swear that I just saw them pulling away from the gas pump next to mine, or turning down an aisle in the grocery store, or on the jumbotron cheering at a hockey game. When this happens, the "expecting surprises" part of me is convinced that friends or relations who do not in fact live anywhere near me have made a special trip to Nashville and are driving around in cars past the intersection where I am sitting at a red light or walking down the road in front of my office to subtly surprise me with their presence . . . if I would just so happen to look up and notice that they're there.
Now, I do know that the chances of this actually happening are very unlikely. What friend would travel all the way across the country and spend the day following you around in a rented car, hoping that you'll look up and go, "Oh my goodness! Is that Stacy? Wow! It is!" Most people don't have time for this kind of tomfoolery and would instead call ahead to make sure you'll be in town when they visit, have you pick them up at the airport, make plans to stay at your house, and then go home when the weekend is over. Yet for some reason I hang on to the notion that one day I will walking into the post office to get my mail and I'll pass one of my friends coming out of the building, seemingly engaged in conversation on their cell phone, wondering if I've figured out yet that it's them.
Oddly, when I just coincidentally run into someone I know at the airport or at Disney World or at the Grand Ole Opry, I never think they've spent the whole day walking around just on the edge of my vision, waiting for me to turn my head and catch them in the act. It seems like a true coincidence that I'm there and they're there and we ran into each other.
Hmmm... Maybe I'm not giving people enough credit for their cleverness. Maybe they're so clever that their "I'm surprised to see you, too!" act has had me totally fooled. I may have more pleasant surprises in my life than I originally thought. What a pleasant surprise!
One of the more extreme ways that this belief comes out is that I am constantly thinking that I see someone I know. Not someone I know from work or from church or from my neighborhood, however, but someone who lives across the US or even in another country, someone who has utterly no business being in my city. Yet, I could swear that I just saw them pulling away from the gas pump next to mine, or turning down an aisle in the grocery store, or on the jumbotron cheering at a hockey game. When this happens, the "expecting surprises" part of me is convinced that friends or relations who do not in fact live anywhere near me have made a special trip to Nashville and are driving around in cars past the intersection where I am sitting at a red light or walking down the road in front of my office to subtly surprise me with their presence . . . if I would just so happen to look up and notice that they're there.
Now, I do know that the chances of this actually happening are very unlikely. What friend would travel all the way across the country and spend the day following you around in a rented car, hoping that you'll look up and go, "Oh my goodness! Is that Stacy? Wow! It is!" Most people don't have time for this kind of tomfoolery and would instead call ahead to make sure you'll be in town when they visit, have you pick them up at the airport, make plans to stay at your house, and then go home when the weekend is over. Yet for some reason I hang on to the notion that one day I will walking into the post office to get my mail and I'll pass one of my friends coming out of the building, seemingly engaged in conversation on their cell phone, wondering if I've figured out yet that it's them.
Oddly, when I just coincidentally run into someone I know at the airport or at Disney World or at the Grand Ole Opry, I never think they've spent the whole day walking around just on the edge of my vision, waiting for me to turn my head and catch them in the act. It seems like a true coincidence that I'm there and they're there and we ran into each other.
Hmmm... Maybe I'm not giving people enough credit for their cleverness. Maybe they're so clever that their "I'm surprised to see you, too!" act has had me totally fooled. I may have more pleasant surprises in my life than I originally thought. What a pleasant surprise!
Monday, June 04, 2007
Walking the dog
Today I was eating lunch with some friends on the patio in front of the Panera at the Green Hills Mall. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something moving across the ground and then I saw someone walking along, seemingly behind whatever object I had just seen moving. My first thought (my first thought!) was, "Is that man walking one of those 'invisible dogs'?" and I craned my neck to see.
Note: I haven't actually seen one of those stiff leashes that are supposed to be "invisible dogs" since I was about 13 years old.
Why would I think that a grown man would suddenly be walking around with one now, here (far from the seaside boardwalks where invisible dogs are bred), at the Green Hills Mall? The idea that I thought someone had an invisible dog suddenly seemed more ridiculous to me than if he had actually been walking an invisible dog. Whose mind jumps to invisible dog before real dog, bird, napkin (which is what I really saw), strangely-visible wind, or even hole in the fabric of time?
But it had been a surreal day at the Panera even before this happened. Just moments before, a 60 year old man wearing bright green shorts, a bright pink shirt, and matching pink crocs had strode past our table. I was so distracted by his loudly-hued outfit that I did not even notice if he was walking an invisible dog. And maybe that was his clever strategy.
Note: I haven't actually seen one of those stiff leashes that are supposed to be "invisible dogs" since I was about 13 years old.
Why would I think that a grown man would suddenly be walking around with one now, here (far from the seaside boardwalks where invisible dogs are bred), at the Green Hills Mall? The idea that I thought someone had an invisible dog suddenly seemed more ridiculous to me than if he had actually been walking an invisible dog. Whose mind jumps to invisible dog before real dog, bird, napkin (which is what I really saw), strangely-visible wind, or even hole in the fabric of time?
But it had been a surreal day at the Panera even before this happened. Just moments before, a 60 year old man wearing bright green shorts, a bright pink shirt, and matching pink crocs had strode past our table. I was so distracted by his loudly-hued outfit that I did not even notice if he was walking an invisible dog. And maybe that was his clever strategy.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
My other favorite topic: Shoes
After living in Nashville for two years, I have finally stumbled upon the thing I will really miss if we ever move away -- the Marti and Liz shoe store in Cool Springs. It's in the same shopping center as the Kroger on Mallory Lane. If you have not yet visited this store (assuming that you love shoe shopping), please make a trip down there as soon as is humanly possible.
I first visited Marti and Liz after my birthday in January. With birthday money burning a hole in my pocket, Les and I found this legendary store and I spent a good hour there, trying on shoes and working to narrow down my purchases to a less outrageous quantity than every pair on the shelf in my size. I walked out the door with (only) five pairs of shoes, and it was a struggle for me to hold myself back to that number. Still, I only spent $120 dollars on five pairs, and I thought that was a great bargain.
In case I haven't explained it before, my mother created what I consider to be an ingenious system for rationalizing spending money on things. The system is this: Will you use/wear this item one time for every dollar you spend on it?
You can quickly see the wisdom in this system through the following examples:
1. A pair of sneakers for $90. Will I wear them 90 times? Yes, I'll probably wear them at least twice a week for a year. Okay, then I can rationalize buying them.
2. A dress for $80. Will I wear this dress 80 times? No way! Then I really need to think long and hard about buying it.
You can see where this system breaks down for things like cars or houses and other extremely high-dollar items, but otherwise this is a fantastic guideline for determining whether or not to buy something, no matter how expensive or inexpensive it seems.
But if you're going to spend money, just give Marti and Liz a try.
I first visited Marti and Liz after my birthday in January. With birthday money burning a hole in my pocket, Les and I found this legendary store and I spent a good hour there, trying on shoes and working to narrow down my purchases to a less outrageous quantity than every pair on the shelf in my size. I walked out the door with (only) five pairs of shoes, and it was a struggle for me to hold myself back to that number. Still, I only spent $120 dollars on five pairs, and I thought that was a great bargain.
In case I haven't explained it before, my mother created what I consider to be an ingenious system for rationalizing spending money on things. The system is this: Will you use/wear this item one time for every dollar you spend on it?
You can quickly see the wisdom in this system through the following examples:
1. A pair of sneakers for $90. Will I wear them 90 times? Yes, I'll probably wear them at least twice a week for a year. Okay, then I can rationalize buying them.
2. A dress for $80. Will I wear this dress 80 times? No way! Then I really need to think long and hard about buying it.
You can see where this system breaks down for things like cars or houses and other extremely high-dollar items, but otherwise this is a fantastic guideline for determining whether or not to buy something, no matter how expensive or inexpensive it seems.
But if you're going to spend money, just give Marti and Liz a try.
One of my favorite topics: Hair
One of my favorite topics to talk about with anyone is what they're planning to do with their hair, style-wise. My husband says that my sister and I are all about "hair and shoes" and, indeed, when the two of us are together, those two items usually come up in conversation within the first ten minutes. He suggests that talking about shoes made out of hair or a hair-style shaped like a shoe would be our ultimate bliss, but I fear that it would probably be too much of a good thing and we'd both implode as a result.
Right now I'm "growing my hair out." That is the official "girl phrase" used to describe the act of only letting your hairdresser cut off the minimum amount each time you sit in the beauty salon chair. Currently, it almost touches my shoulders, which is actually pretty long for me. If I tip my head way back, I can grab about an inch of my hair with my hand behind my back. I know that tipping your head way back is cheating when it comes to judging hair length, but every girl who has grown her hair out knows that you have to cheat a little bit to encourage yourself along down the long and arduous path of growing your hair into a longer style. Draping a towel on your head like hair and flipping it around is another good way to cheat and make yourself feel like you have really long hair. Not that I've actually done this. I'm just saying I've heard about such things. You know, from friends. Crazy friends.
There are many moments during the course of growing your hair out that you consider chopping it all off. Sometimes it gets in your mouth when you bend over to pick something up. Annoying! Sometimes you see a girl with a super-cute short haircut and you think, "Ooooh! I want that!" Or sometimes you just feel an overwhelming sense of futility about the whole thing -- "My hair will NEVER get long! What's the point of torturing myself?" But then you'll see someone with lovely, long hair and, even if your hair has never been long or lovely or long and lovely, you'll think, "I will also look that beautiful one day when my hair is long and lovely and swooshy!" And so you persist.
In high school, we used to actually wash our hair with some sort of horrible-smelling horse shampoo to make it grow faster. These days I know more people who are taking pre-natal vitamins (never mind the nausea!) for the same results. I am fortunate to have a very good hairdresser (Nikki at the Tip Top Salon) who just somehow arranges things in a magical way to enable me to have a good-looking haircut all the way through this challenging process.
Today I wore my hair in a ponytail all day and was so excited that it was long enough to do that. Next . . . braids. I can hardly handle the anticipation!
Right now I'm "growing my hair out." That is the official "girl phrase" used to describe the act of only letting your hairdresser cut off the minimum amount each time you sit in the beauty salon chair. Currently, it almost touches my shoulders, which is actually pretty long for me. If I tip my head way back, I can grab about an inch of my hair with my hand behind my back. I know that tipping your head way back is cheating when it comes to judging hair length, but every girl who has grown her hair out knows that you have to cheat a little bit to encourage yourself along down the long and arduous path of growing your hair into a longer style. Draping a towel on your head like hair and flipping it around is another good way to cheat and make yourself feel like you have really long hair. Not that I've actually done this. I'm just saying I've heard about such things. You know, from friends. Crazy friends.
There are many moments during the course of growing your hair out that you consider chopping it all off. Sometimes it gets in your mouth when you bend over to pick something up. Annoying! Sometimes you see a girl with a super-cute short haircut and you think, "Ooooh! I want that!" Or sometimes you just feel an overwhelming sense of futility about the whole thing -- "My hair will NEVER get long! What's the point of torturing myself?" But then you'll see someone with lovely, long hair and, even if your hair has never been long or lovely or long and lovely, you'll think, "I will also look that beautiful one day when my hair is long and lovely and swooshy!" And so you persist.
In high school, we used to actually wash our hair with some sort of horrible-smelling horse shampoo to make it grow faster. These days I know more people who are taking pre-natal vitamins (never mind the nausea!) for the same results. I am fortunate to have a very good hairdresser (Nikki at the Tip Top Salon) who just somehow arranges things in a magical way to enable me to have a good-looking haircut all the way through this challenging process.
Today I wore my hair in a ponytail all day and was so excited that it was long enough to do that. Next . . . braids. I can hardly handle the anticipation!
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Bible Belt Bumpers
Something that has been fun about living in The South is that people tend to wear their religious beliefs on their sleeves a lot more than in non-Southern areas. This leads to a few interesting discussions with strangers, a lot of in-your-face t-shirts (that you have to read quickly and secretly to not get engaged in a conversation on the topic of the t-shirt), and some though-provoking experiences. This post is about my two favorite bumper stickers (so far...), but I'll veer down the tangential path of Christian subculture in general as well.
But first, the bumper stickers!
Favorite bumper sticker #1: Are you following Jesus as closely as you're following me?
Favorite bumper sticker #2: Try Jesus. If you don't like Him, the Devil will take you back.
Before I moved to The South and before I worked at a Christian company, I had no idea of the humor-filled (yet pointed) subculture that exists within the Christian community. Case in point, this music video by Sir Readsalot. I love it, but I had never heard of it before I started mixing with the Christians. What else have I been missing?
Similarly, someone just emailed me these "Christian vs. Christ-follower" parodies of the Mac vs. PC commercials. Well-done, and they do make a point.
Churches here advertise on bulletin boards, our free paper has a section on where to worship, and they even have a "Church of the Week" feature on the local news. It's so different from our experience in Michigan, and I have to say that I'm more thoughtful about my faith since I've been submersed into a culture (both at work and around town) that focuses on religion and spirituality so much.
If you weren't a Christian, I could see how this would really get on your nerves, or make you feel like an outsider here. But, that's the interesting thing about Nashville . . . there's the honky-tonkin', partyin', livin'-it-up side of the city as well. Although sometimes you'll find the same people at Tootsie's on Saturday night and in the pew next to you on Sunday, so you never can tell...
But first, the bumper stickers!
Favorite bumper sticker #1: Are you following Jesus as closely as you're following me?
Favorite bumper sticker #2: Try Jesus. If you don't like Him, the Devil will take you back.
Before I moved to The South and before I worked at a Christian company, I had no idea of the humor-filled (yet pointed) subculture that exists within the Christian community. Case in point, this music video by Sir Readsalot. I love it, but I had never heard of it before I started mixing with the Christians. What else have I been missing?
Similarly, someone just emailed me these "Christian vs. Christ-follower" parodies of the Mac vs. PC commercials. Well-done, and they do make a point.
Churches here advertise on bulletin boards, our free paper has a section on where to worship, and they even have a "Church of the Week" feature on the local news. It's so different from our experience in Michigan, and I have to say that I'm more thoughtful about my faith since I've been submersed into a culture (both at work and around town) that focuses on religion and spirituality so much.
If you weren't a Christian, I could see how this would really get on your nerves, or make you feel like an outsider here. But, that's the interesting thing about Nashville . . . there's the honky-tonkin', partyin', livin'-it-up side of the city as well. Although sometimes you'll find the same people at Tootsie's on Saturday night and in the pew next to you on Sunday, so you never can tell...
Construction Worker Kudos
Now, I know that giving props to construction workers is not exactly "up there" in the realm of popular things to do, but I just can't help it. I drive on Elm Hill Pike and under Briley Parkway every day on my way to and from work. I have been making this commute ever since I moved to Nashville, and construction on this intersection basically started as soon as I moved here (had I known, I would have looked for a place of residence on the same side of Briley as my office, but that's water under the bridge now), so I feel that I have seen the whole project from start to almost-finish. And I have to say, that things are really coming along!
When it comes to construction, I'm pretty much a six year old boy's brain in a 33 year old woman's body. I love all the various construction equipment, and could sit and watch them move earth around, break up concrete, and load rocks into trucks all day long. The power! The mobility! The excitement!
Every day is a surprise. One day I drove to work and the road was curving one way, and then I drove home after work and they had shifted the lanes over and things were totally different. I got on Briley by accident because I veered where I used to veer and it was an on-ramp instead of just a jog in the road!
But I back to the praise for the construction workers. They're really working hard and getting this project done. They work on Saturdays. They work early and late. They work at night with lights that are as bright as the sun. They hang from harnesses and balance on beams and eat dust for lunch and still keep plugging away at this big project that 98% of the people who drive on Elm Hill Pike every day would tell you will never be completed.
But I'm really seeing progress. I got on Briley Southbound and was on a whole new part of the road. They're pouring cement for the edge-of-road barriers so you can really see where the road will be, how the on- and off-ramps will work, and how they'll shift all the traffic on to the new bridge.
Maybe I'm a geek for being so excited about all of this. In fact, I'm almost sad to think that they're almost done. Erm, okay, maybe not. As much as I love construction, I love quickly flowing traffic even more.
When it comes to construction, I'm pretty much a six year old boy's brain in a 33 year old woman's body. I love all the various construction equipment, and could sit and watch them move earth around, break up concrete, and load rocks into trucks all day long. The power! The mobility! The excitement!
Every day is a surprise. One day I drove to work and the road was curving one way, and then I drove home after work and they had shifted the lanes over and things were totally different. I got on Briley by accident because I veered where I used to veer and it was an on-ramp instead of just a jog in the road!
But I back to the praise for the construction workers. They're really working hard and getting this project done. They work on Saturdays. They work early and late. They work at night with lights that are as bright as the sun. They hang from harnesses and balance on beams and eat dust for lunch and still keep plugging away at this big project that 98% of the people who drive on Elm Hill Pike every day would tell you will never be completed.
But I'm really seeing progress. I got on Briley Southbound and was on a whole new part of the road. They're pouring cement for the edge-of-road barriers so you can really see where the road will be, how the on- and off-ramps will work, and how they'll shift all the traffic on to the new bridge.
Maybe I'm a geek for being so excited about all of this. In fact, I'm almost sad to think that they're almost done. Erm, okay, maybe not. As much as I love construction, I love quickly flowing traffic even more.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
That's SO meta!
I have a "Quote of the Day" box on my Google homepage and I am continually amused by the quotes that appear. Some are extremely funny, some are wrist-slitting depressing, and some are brain-stretching, like this quote from Jacques Derrida:
To pretend, I actually do the thing. Therefore, I have only pretended to pretend.
Best quote ever! Now this is the way I like to think! I printed it off and stuck it up in my cubicle, upside-down of course!
To pretend, I actually do the thing. Therefore, I have only pretended to pretend.
Best quote ever! Now this is the way I like to think! I printed it off and stuck it up in my cubicle, upside-down of course!
Friday, May 25, 2007
Drinking Problem
Whenever I fill up a glass, I fill it all the way up, to the point where it's almost overflowing and I have to slurp up some of the liquid in it before I can even pick it up. I am particularly bad about this with water and with coffee (though my need for extreme amounts of creamer is partially to blame).
You know how they describe optimists as people who see the glass as half full, and pessimists as people who see the glass as half empty? What's it mean when you see the glass as never full enough?
You know how they describe optimists as people who see the glass as half full, and pessimists as people who see the glass as half empty? What's it mean when you see the glass as never full enough?
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Snow's a-comin'!
Here is the official forecast for Nashville as it stands right now:
Tonight
Light snow developing after midnight. Accumulation around 1 inch. Lows in the mid 20s. Southeast winds 5 to 10 mph. Chance of snow 90 percent.
Thursday
Light snow in the morning...then a mix of light rain...snow and sleet in the afternoon. Additional snow and sleet accumulation around 1 inch. Storm total accumulation around 2 inches. Highs in the mid to upper 30s. East winds around 5 mph. Chance of precipitation near 100 percent.
As a former Michigander, I must admit that I am having quite a bit of fun watching everyone freak out over a potential 2 inches of snow. People were taking work out the door with them in case they had to work from home tomorrow. People with 4-wheel-drives were commenting how nervous they were about how bad the roads might be. And when I drove up the hill into my apartment complex today, the driveway had already been pre-salted . . . just in case.
Now, I assure you that I have already heard all the usual commentary about snow in Nashville: (1) people here don’t know how to drive in snow, (2) we don’t have the equipment down here to handle snow, (3) you may know how to drive in snow, but ice is a whole different situation, and (4) remember that terrible snowstorm in 2004 when it took us all 8 hours to make the normally 30-minute drive home!?
I’m all for being “better safe than sorry” when it comes to bad weather (which is why I always had a blanket, boots, a small shovel, snacks, and a candle in my car during the winter months in Michigan), but this much excitement and concern seems a little disproportionate to the amount of snow predicted, and honestly seems to border on irrational behavior.
But, since I don’t think I can really do much to reassure people that it is honestly going to be alright, I thought I would – at best – share some factoids of truly amazing Nashville weather, or – at worst – just feed the paranoia.
Here’s my personal highlight:
Most snowfall in 24 hours: 17.0", March 17, 1892
Now that’s something to freak out about!
Tonight
Light snow developing after midnight. Accumulation around 1 inch. Lows in the mid 20s. Southeast winds 5 to 10 mph. Chance of snow 90 percent.
Thursday
Light snow in the morning...then a mix of light rain...snow and sleet in the afternoon. Additional snow and sleet accumulation around 1 inch. Storm total accumulation around 2 inches. Highs in the mid to upper 30s. East winds around 5 mph. Chance of precipitation near 100 percent.
As a former Michigander, I must admit that I am having quite a bit of fun watching everyone freak out over a potential 2 inches of snow. People were taking work out the door with them in case they had to work from home tomorrow. People with 4-wheel-drives were commenting how nervous they were about how bad the roads might be. And when I drove up the hill into my apartment complex today, the driveway had already been pre-salted . . . just in case.
Now, I assure you that I have already heard all the usual commentary about snow in Nashville: (1) people here don’t know how to drive in snow, (2) we don’t have the equipment down here to handle snow, (3) you may know how to drive in snow, but ice is a whole different situation, and (4) remember that terrible snowstorm in 2004 when it took us all 8 hours to make the normally 30-minute drive home!?
I’m all for being “better safe than sorry” when it comes to bad weather (which is why I always had a blanket, boots, a small shovel, snacks, and a candle in my car during the winter months in Michigan), but this much excitement and concern seems a little disproportionate to the amount of snow predicted, and honestly seems to border on irrational behavior.
But, since I don’t think I can really do much to reassure people that it is honestly going to be alright, I thought I would – at best – share some factoids of truly amazing Nashville weather, or – at worst – just feed the paranoia.
Here’s my personal highlight:
Most snowfall in 24 hours: 17.0", March 17, 1892
Now that’s something to freak out about!
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