Closer to Fine

Huzzah for Huzzah!!!

2006-07-28T09:52:00.000-05:00

Alright folks, I hope you've been doing your work on getting the word out with "grody," because I'm about to double your workload if you haven't finished that job yet.

That's right, we're bringing back HUZZAH!

Pronunciation: huh-ZAAAAAAAAH!

Use: an expression of joy, approval, happiness (much like hooray, but cooler to say)

Use it. Liberally. Already I have begun the spread in Boston, when I used it last night after I enjoyed the free performance of The Taming of the Shrew on the Boston Common.

As I said in the grody post, get on board now and use it before everyone does and you're just a bandwagon-jumper.

Feeling Endeared Yet?

2006-07-14T19:25:00.000-05:00

OK, I think the posting thing is fixed. No idea what happened there...I'm going to blame it on the blog gnomes.

So, I'm reading this really interesting research article the other day about professional boundaries, which is a hot topic in the helping professions. It's not a far stretch - any profession that involves you working with others to improve their lives could easily spark some issues where the line between the professional and personal relationships begin to blur. When you work to improve the lives of others, you give a little piece of yourself to make things happen, and if you don't then you come across as insincere or you don't do a good job. But by giving away that little piece of yourself, you've allowed the boundaries between your life and the lives of those you are helping to blur a little bit. This isn't a problem until you start working with someone who requires a lot of yourself, or someone whose problem becomes so meaningful to you that you can't help but give a lot of yourself. They teach you a lot about setting your professional boundaries in schools that teach to the helping professions, and it's heavily emphasized in any practical experience you get during your education.

Anyway, this article was addressing what people in helping professions define as actions that are acceptable (within professional boundaries), and what these same people actually do in their practice. I wasn't surprised to find that many people said certain activities (say, hugging a client) were unacceptable but still had themselves crossed the line. That's the thing about boundaries - they're great in the abstract, but when you get in the moment it's hard to put them into practice...and sometimes if you put them into practice you might not be doing the best job you can be. Imagine you're a doctor and you've just told a child they have cancer. Do you hug them and tell them you're going to fight it with them? Or, if that one doesn't get you, what if you just told that same child they're now in remission and their face lights up and they jump at you? Can you hug them now? But a hug can be a really touchy thing. Now add into the equation that kid's mother. You're a female doctor. Is it OK to hug her when she reaches out to you? Now, still a female doctor, can you hug that child's dad? It gets stickier and stickier.

One of the activities specifically in question in this research article was using terms of endearment. I know a lot of women find it derrogatory when men they don't know well call them "Honey." I used to hate it in high school when my friend's dads would do it. But here's the thing: I use that word like it's a pronoun. That and "Sweetie." I didn't realize how much I did it until one day in college when my friend Robin pointed it out to the group of new members in my sorority. "Hi, I'm Kristy," I said, "and I'm really bad with names. If I don't remember your name right away, it's not because I don't like you, it's because names go in one ear and out the other." "Don't worry about it girls," Robin said with a laugh, "Even if she does remember your name, she'll probably call you 'Honey' or 'Sweetie' anyway." I was shocked by her statement, but then found myself calling everyone, including people whose names I knew well, Honey and Sweetie.

I still do this today. Jay and I rarely call each other by our first names - Honey usually suffices. But on a recent vacation together I found myself talking to my friend Laura and addressing her as "Honey"...and Jay called out from the other room to see what I needed. Whoops! How does this happen? I'd attribute it to being raised in the South, but both of my parents come from the Northeast and so many of the traditional Southern colloquialisms were not used in my house on a regular basis. On the other hand, there is something to be said for environment - I obviously didn't live exclusively in my house, so perhaps I picked these things up from school/the mall/my friends. I do still say "Y'all," after all.

But I'm reading this article and I'm wondering...do I offend people with my terms of endearment, or do I get away with it by sliding in a little bit of a twang and being a girl? Is it motherly when I do it or disrespectful? And how often do I still do it? I began to want to carry around a microphone to record my daily interactions so that I could play them back at a later time (when I could be more conscious of my speech) and check how often I use terms of endearment as pronouns. Then, of course, I remembered how much I hate the sound of my recorded voice, and I backed out of that plan.

Recently my car had a fight with an unexpected large chunk of concrete on the interstate and lost. I pulled off of of the highway as soon as possible and right into the first place available - a car dealership. Getting out of the car in my work clothes, I muttered to myself that I could probably expect a swarm of men in just a few minutes, either trying to sell me a car since my current one was in disrepair, or trying to help me change my tire (which I already know how to do). Sure enough, as soon as I sat on the ground with the jack and started lifting the car, a man stopped by to ask if I needed help, and then (jokingly) suggested that I trade my car in and not worry about the whole changing the tire thing but instead get a new car. I obligingly laughed and let him know that I was already trying to figure out how how I was going to pay for a new rim and tire, much less a new car. I then continued to change the tire as he got paged for a phone call. Almost immediately after he left, a man came up behind me, said "Here, honey" and grabbed the jack handle out of my hand and continued to change my tire for me. I was monumentally offended - not because I thought he thought I didn't know how to change a tire, but because he called me "Honey." (Hey, if you want to change my tire for me in the heat and humidity while I watch and my nice clothes remain unmessed all in the name of chivalry, I'm not going to argue.) I felt belittled. It's almost as if, to me, the "Honey" implied that I didn't know how to change a tire...because I'm a woman who needs taking care of. Now, of course, I don't mean that implication when I call other people "Honey," so I can't imagine why I would think others are implying that to me when they use that term towards me.

I use terms of endearment like "Honey" and "Sweetie" at work all the time with the kids. When you see a large number of people in a short time, it's difficult to remember what name matches what face. Terms of endearment help cover up any uncertainty you might have. I'm careful to whom I apply them though - anything goes with girls, but with boys it's a little tougher. "Buddy" works well with little boys, or sometimes if I need to get them to smile I'll make a joke and ask them if I can call them "Love Poodle" or "Schmoopie." But any sort of term of endearment to a teenage boy and things start to get a little inappropriate, so I monitor that pretty closely. I guess this could be a sign that, over the years, I've unconsciously developed an internal monitoring system that prevents me from using terms of endearment in inappropriate ways. That's a bit of a relief.

In the end, I suppose one of the reasons I use these terms so ubiquitously is because - as a general rule - I'm a fairly friendly gal. I really do feel a fondness for my friends - both very close friends with whom I share everything and those I see on a more infrequent and impersonal basis. In my book, everyone's good until they prove otherwise, and forgiveness is doled out fairly easily. Thus, everyone is in one way or another endeared to me, and thus everyone gets a little bit of love here and there via my own special version of pronouns. And ultimately, isn't that what the world needs now? Love, sweet love? =)

Guess I'm just doing my part to spread world peace.

Trying to fix it....

2006-07-13T17:48:00.000-05:00

Apparently my blog has been MIA. I'm hoping this post fixes it. And then I'm hoping I'll be inspired/have the time to write a new one soon. But let's fix the old one first, OK?

=)

Rockin' Tha Suburbz

2006-06-29T14:22:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I know. I've been MIA for a while. This is mostly because I have relocated myself from the hip Davis Square area of Somerville to Suburbia, aka Norwood, MA.

Wait, having a hard time finding Boston on that second map? Look up in the top right corner. Oooooooooohhhh...there it is. Yeah, Somerville is just north of Boston. Right on the T and everything. Norwood is a fair distance south and west. We still have the commuter rail where I live, so I could get into town without a car if needed, but most people drive.

So many of my friends have commented on my "selling out" and moving to the 'burbz. But LET ME TELL YOU, my friends, suburbia is the place for me. Behold, the top 5 list why I love (at least my little segment of) suburbia:

5. The post office is open until 7 every night, except Saturdays when it's open until 3.

4. My neighbors are all really friendly and nice, and are not 19-year-old college students who will throw "ragers" every weekend. It's a family neighborhood. (Yes, I recognize that listing this makes me sound
old.)

3. My commute is 3 miles shorter and 15 minutes faster; PLUS it's mostly highway...no more of this stop-and-go crap through town.

2. My car insurance got cut in HALF when I moved. No lie.

1. 24-hour, DRIVE-THROUGH Starbucks. (That's right, the only one in the Northeast except for one in Long Island. And yes, it's not in Boston, it's in my little suburban town.)

I recognize that this is a top 5 list, not a top 10 list...but gimme a few months, I've only been here 4 weeks and 90% of my time there has either been in my new place painting, or at the Starbucks getting a chai so I can continue to paint late into the evening.

The real reason I think I like it so much there is because I was raised in the suburbs. This is where I wanted to end up anyway - this is what feels like home to me. I had a friend ask me if I'd miss being walking distance to so many bars. But here's the thing - I totally loved Davis Square. It had tons of great restaurants, and a really unusual vibe to it, but I paid a lot of money to be walking distance from it, and I very rarely went there.

I totally get that there are people my age that would kill to be where I was. I totally get that it makes me sound old to want to live in a neighborhood and sort of "nest." But that's who I am. I'm a nester. I don't go out drinking too too often anymore.

And I've decided it's OK to be that way. It's also OK to be like my friends who love to live near all the bars. It's OK to go out all the time. I just don't. If you think that makes me boring, fine. I didn't say you had to move to Norwood with me. But for my life, and the way I live, it's so much better to live in the suburbs, and take the train in when I want to get all crazy and then crash on someone's couch. It's nice having the balance of being young enough to do that, but being old enough to want to live in a nice town with nice neighbors and save money on insurance and groceries and gas.

And guess what? There are some fun bars and restaurants within walking distance of my house. Yes, that's right folks, even suburban towns have bars. And they can be fun. No, I won't get the culture exposure I did in Davis Square (not even close), but that's why I plan on being back in Boston on a regular basis. I do own a car, after all. And with the money I'm saving on insurance and gas, I can afford to pay for parking now. =)

So, that's what I've been up to. Rockin' Tha Suburbz. And it has been a GOOD TIME. Feel free to come and visit!

Schlubs, Slurpees, and Scrubbers

2006-04-20T13:13:00.000-05:00

(Alternatively titled: The hodge-podge post of small things I've been thinking about lately, joined into one humongoid post.)

Monday, April 17, was Patriot's Day here in Boston. I *love* this holiday. It honors the battles fought in Lexington and Concord that began the fight for independence in this country, but what it really means is that (almost) everyone in the Boston area gets the day off (sorry, Jay). It's such a fun day, especially because you feel like you're getting away with something...having the day off when the rest of the country (even the rest of the state) is working. It is something TRULY unique to Boston, and I totally dig that. Probably the biggest reason people in Boston get the day off is because the run the Boston Marathon on this day. The Boston Marathon is an event that is unique in its own right, besides creating a holiday for our great city. Most marathons begin early in the morning because they take several hours to finish and it gets too hot by midday and too dark by evening for the runners to be able to finish. The Boston Marathon, however, starts at 11am. That's because it's still winter here, usually, and it's actually not the right temp for a marathon run until mid-day. (Side story: two years ago it was 80 degrees on Marathon Monday, and they had to fly in the person who heads up the Ironman Triathalon in Hawaii to help the planners figure out how to not have all the runners die from heat stroke...because the Ironman was the only other race run in conditions like we had that day. Craziness.) It's especially fun to watch the Boston Marathon, because it is the oldest marathon in the country, and because the last mile of the marathon begins in Kenmore Square, just outside of Fenway Park. In recent years, the Red Sox have purposely planned a home game starting about the same time as the marathon...and many people (the lucky ones) get tickets to the game, go to that, and then when it's over they empty into Kenmore just as the bulk of the marathon runners are starting to come through. It's a fun time - all along the marathon course people line up to cheer on the runners, and often they bring signs to update the runners on the Sox score. The marathon also runs right by Wellesley Collge, and the Wellesley girls and faculty line the streets in THRONGS and cheer the runners on all day. This part is called the Wellesley "Scream Tunnel," and I've heard from actual marathoners that they thought they'd go deaf while running through it, but it was also the biggest rush of the race. The Scream Tunnel, by the way, often prompts strapping young men running the marathon to write on their chests in permanent markers things like "I love Wellesley girls. Call me! " SO funny. Also, one year, the Sox played the Yankees and I saw many people running with things written on their arms/chests like "Jeter Sucks" and other such Yankee-hating quips. It's just funny - the Boston Marathon definitely has a personality all its own.

In any case, taking public transportation on this day is a MESS. Many portions of bus routes and T stations are shut down for the marathon, and the system runs very slowly due to packed cars from both the game and the marathon. I happened to be on the T trying to get to South Boston to watch a Little League game (Jay coaches), and timed it just right so that I was next to people boarding the T coming straight from having run the marathon. Now, I've been at the Sox game (well, OK, not at the Sox game, per se, but at the ballpark in the bar attached to Fenway watching the game on TV), and I may or may not have had a few beers (probably the one day a year I drink in the middle of the day), and then I had some ice cream and indulged in the largest soy chai Starbucks has to offer. And I'm sitting in a seat on the T (a rarity when it's full), and these people get on wrapped in foil. I look at these people, who just ran 26.2 miles, and I immediately get up and offer them my seat. They decline. Are you kidding me? I haven't been to the gym on a regular basis in more than 2 months, and they just ran 26.2 miles and they don't want to sit down? I can hardly stand up to offer them my seat! I refuse to sit down, however, because I realize what a schlub I'd feel like if I sat while they stood. Anyway, it was pretty cool to be so close to people who have accomplished something I'm sure I'll never get to in my life (no, really. My doctor says that I'll be in traction for at least a month if I try it - damned arthritis). I have a few friends who have run a marathon, and a few who have walked, and to all of them I take off my hat. Well done, folks - being close to these foil-wrapped people here in Boston reminded me of all the hard work you guys put forth, and I'm just proud to say I know you. Even though I'm a schlub right now. =)

On to the next topic! Because of the fickle nature of the weather here in Beantown, I have had some ups and downs with seasonal allergies. Now, I don't care where you live, I bet you've experienced this "Joy of Spring" as well. You wake up with a sore throat from post-nasal drip, you walk around feeling like your head is a balloon about to detach from your body, and the only thing you can do is overdose on Tylenol Allergy Sinus (my miracle drug of choice) and pray for the best. Mmmmmm....FUN. Recently, I had the pain in my throat (usually fixed by the aforementioned miracle drug of choice) move to the back of my mouth, so that anytime I swallowed there was a sharp pain at the base of my tongue. This could not be fixed by my miracle drug, and I was absolutely miserable. Until I re-visited an old philosophy of mine: Slurpees fix everything! That's right, the good old 7-11 Slurpee became my new miracle drug of choice, and I recommend it to all of you. The beauty of treating allergy symptoms with a Slurpee is this: the spoon-straw. You can spot-treat any sore areas of your mouth by scooping up a bit of Slurpee and placing it directly in the affected area. If it is your throat that hurts, the Slurpee slides down smoothly and soothes the entire area, and it is my belief that the carbonation in the Slurpee-goodness helps to erode the offending mucus that is making your throat hurt in the first place. I've found that the Slurpee miracle drug has long-lasting effects, and is far tastier than any other solution. For those of you lucky enough not to be affected by allergy symptoms, FEAR NOT! The Slurpee has other amazing benefits for you! The Slurpee can make a hot summer day 10 degrees cooler, and it can make your mouth a fun color as well. For those on a diet, the Slurpee is a fat-free dessert option. Need a kick of energy but trying to give up caffeine? The sugar in the Slurpee will give you a nice jolt. Trying to become an alcoholic but just don't like the taste? Mix some rum in your Slurpee (making a Rumee, if you will) and drink it down like water! (OK, just kididng on the last one. I mean, you can still make that delicious concoction, but don't try to become an alcoholic or anything. Seriously.) Anyway, my point is, Slurpees make everything better. Try one today!

My final point today is about my new toothbrush. Now, I've always been an Oral-B or Crest girl when it came to toothbrushes, because Oral-B is what my dentist gave me and Crest has always been my toothpaste of choice. But I was swayed by a commercial for a Reach brand toothbrush that included a tongue-scraper on the back of the head. I'm big into tongue-scraping, as it is a key element in preventing bad breath and is just an all-around good idea...but I'm totally unwilling to spend extra money on a separate-tongue scraping device. I don't care how cheap they are, it's a matter of principle - you can accomplish the same thing with your toothbrush bristles, and I find it to be a waste of money. The issue was, every single time I scraped my tongue with the toothbrush bristles, I'd gag. Not pleasant. But still a matter of principle, so I stuck to my toothbrush-bristles-gagging plan. Until now. Ladies, and gentlemen, I am a convert. The first time I used the Reach toothbrush the scraper side on the back of the toothbrush head rubbed against my cheek, and I thought I wasn't going to like it. But, on the plus side, when I used the scraper tool, there was no gagging, so I decided to give it another day or so to see if I got used to it. Guess what? I did. And now I love my toothbrush so much that I tell EVERYONE I possibly can about it. If you're into tongue scraping, and have a gagging problem with the bristles, and have a moral issue with buying a separate tool, this is the brush for you. Of course, if you have that much OCD (like I do), maybe you should have that checked out. =)

(And yes, I'm joking about the OCD, but it is not a funny disease. Please don't get mad at me.)

You Down Wit' OCD? Yeah You Know...er....Everybody?

2006-03-30T21:30:00.000-05:00

(Alternatively Titled: The Blog Brought to you by Jay. No, Literally. Jay wrote it. Enjoy.)

First off, let me introduce myself as Jay, Kristy’s boyfriend, who she has previously written about in only a few blogs… but I’m sure she raves about me in private. OK, now that we have the proper introduction, here’s my beef .

Remember a few years back, when parents, looking for the easiest excuse as to why their child was a stark mad raving lunatic, who did everything but bark at the moon, decided their child or children (remember genetics) was ADD, ADHD or even HDTV? They took to the airwaves, it was on all the news shows, I’m sure Matt Lauer debated its merits with some real famous jackass – ADD was hip, the IN thing, and we all thought we had it. It became popular culture. It took on a life of its own.

*Why did you leave the stove on? ADD

*Oh my God, I forgot to pay the heating bill - ADD

*That report you needed yesterday boss? Have I told you I’m ADD – Hey, it could be worse, I used to be HD too! I’ll have it to you by…what were we talking about again?

*Why did you forget your child was in the backseat when you went to the bar? ADD

Those were the days, we didn’t need excuses. We only needed ADD. Then people got wise. Society figured out if everyone has ADD, wouldn’t that make ADD the default behavior and only the superior should be identified and worshiped? You know, the ASI – the Attention Superior Intellectuals. People like Tom Cruise…er…I’m sorry he’s ASS (please don’t sue me Tom, I’m soooooo scared of your 5’2” {in heels}, scrawny, buck-oh-five ASS).

Well folks, now we have another malady sweeping across the nation. No, not the bird flu. It’s not SARS. You guessed it, it’s OCD.

Yes, now our friends, co-workers and loved ones - as well as ourselves, can be absolved of all annoying habits and stubborness just by throwing out those three little letters you all know so well. O is for obsessive, C is for compulsive… the last letter, weeellll that’s not so simple. Is it D for disorder?

*Why won’t you move that chair I keep stubbing my toe on? OCD! It has to stay there!

*Why do we have to have a plan all the time? OCD

*Sorry boss about being late, I had to check the iron, then the stove, then the iron then the stove, then the door didn’t close right, so I had to check it again…my OCD just kicked in.

*You can’t sit in that seat. I watch every Red Sox game in that seat. It’s my OCD.

*Listen, I don’t mean to be an ass, but I have OCD – can you clean up your mess NOW, or I’ll just, just, just … {No, I get it, you’ll just keep nagging me.}

Personally, I think D may as well stand for DICK, as in it’s an excuse we use when we want to be a flaming Dick. Saying you (or I) have OCD is just a hellava lot nicer than saying “Hey, I’m an inflexible Dick.”

So people of the world, we must fight this OCD phenomenon at all costs, because we don’t want the default behavior to become OCD. Save it for all the poor souls who really do have it, like those who take an hour-and-a-half just to turn off a light switch. However, Tom Cruise can be OCD because he really is an inflexible Dick.

My whole point is people don’t need to put acronyms behind their behavior. I like to think a little bit more the old fashioned way and use words like accountable, responsible, or, more simply, human. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, and we all have to live with them. So let’s go about making ourselves acronym free, unless you really have the paperwork, or scripts, to prove it.

A post brought to you by Debbbbbbbbbbbbb

2006-03-06T15:35:00.000-05:00

Last week it was something ridiculous like 8 degrees outside, and I ran into Target to grab a few items for work, and there were bikinis - TONS of bikinis - for sale in the clothing section. Sick, sick, sick.

But that's not the point of this post. I have a funny anecdote for y'all. Ready?

So, the road that runs from my hospital to the highway (or anywhere, really) is one of those 2 lanes per side (so 4 lanes total) roads that really ought to be a highway but instead is actually a local road. Roads like this are common up here, because one road will become the most direct (or the only) way to get from point A to point B, so everyone uses it, but there's no way to widen the road to meet growing traffic because there are crazy amounts of residential homes surrounding it. There's not even a way to build a by-pass without mowing down some homes as you ruin neighborhood upon neighborhood. It's part of the reason Boston traffic sucks so much (the other part being the drivers, but that's actually another post for another time).

In any case, this road is heavily congested at peak "rush-hour" times - both hospital rush hour times (7am, 3pm - this is when most of the hospital staff's shifts begin or end) and regular working stiffs' rush hour times (8/9am, 4/5/6 pm). And because it doesn't merit any status above a local road, it is often difficult to access it from other local roads. I see people all the time, sitting at an intersection with no stoplight, blinker on, looking sad and forlorn. "Won't anyone let me in? I want to play too!" they seem to say with their desperate eyes. It's especially sad at the end of the day, when you know they've worked a full day and just want to get home.

So, for whatever reason, I feel bad for these people and I let them in. Usually one or two during a commute - I operate under the theory of driver karma (in which if you let others into the flow of traffic, others will do the same for you when you need in). It doesn't really alter the time it takes me to get home, and these poor people can get on with their day. To the end of practicing driver karma, I often will leave space at one of these stoplight-less intersections when traffic is backed up and halted. Technically, it's the law. But nobody gets tickets for blocking an intersection unless it's one with a stoplight (or at least, up here they don't).

Last week I was driving home after coming into work WHILST I WAS SICK to facilitate a program I'm a part of (the beauty of being a one-person program is you can set your hours and do your own thing, but the thing that sucks is you can't call someone else to do the stuff you signed up for when you're sick). So I'm exhausted, having worked while sick, and in no mood to deal with your typical "Boston driver." And I'm travelling on this road; this really-should-be-a-highway-but-instead-is-a-clogged-local-road-that-causes-nothing-but-headaches-for-all-who-travel-it; and traffic is, of course, backed up. We're inching along to an actual stoplight (one of the few), and I leave space in front of me in the stopped traffic line for any car that might want to turn onto my road from a street intersecting with my road to the left.

Let me set the stage for you again: traffic is stopped. I have left perhaps one car-length between me and the next car. There is a street that intersects with the road I'm on to the left of me. I have left space for a car from that road to join us in our traffic misery on my road.

Now, this HUGE van comes up behind me, and stops, leaving a reasonable distance between our vehicles. But then said van must have noticed the space in front of me, and begins inching towards me, getting dangerously close to my rear bumper, clearly trying to encourage me to move forward and fill in the gap I've left.

At this moment, a car comes up on the side street, puts on its blinker, and turns into the space in front of me. I feel good about having helped that person get where they need without any hassle. Until the light changes and we start to move.

Apparently the van driver has decided that, by letting in the one solitary car in front of me, I have significantly increased his travel time and he's mad, so he stays right on my bumper.

REALLY?!?!?

Really you're going to sit on my ass for ONE TINY CAR? C'mon, dude. You need anger counseling.

So I decide to have some fun.

(This is where I blow the karma I built up by letting the car into my lane in the first place. But oh, was it worth it!)

We're still not going forward at any sort of rapid pace; in fact I think we were moving at a speed that could be very well classified as "inching." And I'm irritated that this guy won't get off my bumper, so I do what they tell you to do in driving school to get tailgaters off your bumper - I slow down.

Well, OK, I stopped short. (But when you're inching along, stopping short really is the next step down!) =) I stopped short for maybe two seconds, not even long enough to make a car-length gap between me and the car in front of me, and began inching forward again.

To put it nicely, this did not sit well with the driver of the van.

He promptly turned on his brights, honked his horn, and leaned out the window to yell at me. He then cut off someone in the lane next to us so he could get beside me, leaned out his window some more, and yelled at me some more, turning around to face me even after he'd passed me. He's getting mad at me for stopping short (presumably because he could have hit me and it would have been his fault for following too closely) and he's DRIVING FORWARD IN TRAFFIC WHILE LEANING OUT THE WINDOW AND LOOKING BACKWARDS. Yeah, buddy, I'm the one with the problem.

In any case, here's the part brought to you by Debbbbbbbbbbbbbb:

As he's looking at me, all mad and squinchy-faced, I looked back at him, flashed him my friendliest, happiest, most-girl-next-door-thanks-for-waving-at-me SMILE and waved.

Debb once told me she did that to someone who was driving recklessly and cutting people off and then flicked her off, and it brought her great satisfaction.

And I can tell you from first-hand experience, it does indeed bring a great deal of satisfaction. Acting like you're happy to see someone wave at you in traffic and returning the favor is so fun in this situation. I highly recommend it.

I realize that by writing this my mother will probably have a small coronary attack as she imagines all sorts of inner-city road-rage-related gang violence happening to me from doing something like this...but mom, I'm OK. I don't do this all the time, this was a one time thing. Besides, I was in Newton, safest city in America.

And anyway, I can't keep doing things like this or I'll ruin all my good driver karma, and I'll never get to turn onto a major road from a minor road ever again!

=)

Fodder for you until I can finish brewing the next blog...

2006-02-03T15:26:00.000-05:00

As a nod to one of my all-time favorite people, Toma, I will respond to the challenge:

Seven things to do before I die:
1. Have kids.
2. Ride in a hot air balloon.
3. Travel more - Italy, New Zeland, the world.
4. Learn to speak fluent Spanish and Portuguese (and brush up on my French).
5. Center my faith more firmly.
6. Hug my friends and family a hundred thousand times more - each.
7. Live at least one full day completely (financially) debt-free.

Seven things I cannot do:
1. Kiss my elbow.
2. A cartwheel.
3. Pass up good chocolate or cheese.
4. Root for the Yankees.
5. Whistle with my fingers.
6. Touch my tongue to my nose.
7. Say the names of Billy Joel or Elton John without having to think about it, REALLY hard, so I don't mix 'em up (a la: Billy John and Elton Joel)

Seven things that attract me to blogging:
1. Uhhhhh..who makes these things up anyway? I'm not coming up with seven, but I will say this: I like getting some of my random thoughts out there, I like being funny most of the time and sharing that with whoever wants to know it, and I like the comments I get back. Also, it makes me laugh when my friends communicate via my blog (EMILY AND LAURA). =)

Seven things I say most often:
1. I'm just saying....
2. Fa schizzle!
3. Hi, my name is Kristy, and I'm the child life specialist here. Have you ever heard of a child life specialist before? No? That's OK, most people haven't.
4. OCD
5. like (this is an unfortunate one, I use it in the Valley-Girl sense wherein I insert it in gramatically inappropriate places as useless space-filler)
6. Absosmurfly
7. Y'all

Seven books that I love:
1. The Little Prince
2. The Giving Tree
3. The Velveteen Rabbit
4. The Sound and the Fury
5. Any of the "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" series
6. Where the Wild Things Are
7. The Great Gilly Hopkins

Seven movies that I can watch over and over again (shout out to Toma with the quotes idea):
1. Notting Hill "Did you just say 'whoopsie-daisy?' Because nobody says 'whoopsie-daisy' anymore, except little girls with yellow ringlets."
2. Pretty Woman "Slippery little suckers."
3. Contact "Did you love your dad? Prove it."
4. Annie "Ohmygoodness ohmygoodness!"
5. The Wizard of Oz "Oh Scarecrow, I think I'll miss you most of all."
6. Swingers "What am I going to say? Mom, Dad - I didn't get that pilot. By the way I'm Goofy. Send more money."
7. Robin Hood (Disney cartoon version) "Oh, he's so handsome... just like his reward posters. "

Seven people I want to join the fun:
1. Terence
2. Em (you can do it in the comments if you want)
3. Mom (again, comments)
4. Dad (I know it's a stretch, but it was worth a shot!)
5. Laura
6. Chebra
7. Audra
(and anyone else who wants to!)

Enjoy! I got another one cookin' for ya. Check back soon (ish).

I am my mother's daughter.

2006-01-15T18:11:00.000-05:00

It’s one of those cold New England days outside – the ones where the temperature is so low that even penguins think it’s too cold and the wind is sharp and cuts through your soul like a hot knife through butter.

I’m actually kind of glad, though. I was beginning to think winter had forgotten us altogether. We’ve been really fortunate and had mild temperatures (read: 30’s and 40’s), and I was worried that we wouldn’t have anything to complain about. But now that both the Sox and the Pats have betrayed our love (and don’t get me wrong – I don’t think either of those teams deserved to win the way they were playing), and we’ve had a miserably cold day, I think we’re on track to be able to keep that surly demeanor that New Englanders are so famous for in the winter time. =)

But that’s not the subject of this blog, really. I just thought I’d let you know we’d finally hit winter here. (PS – snow does not make it winter. It’s snowed here a couple times, but that doesn’t make it winter. It snows in May here. I wouldn’t really be shocked if it snowed in June sometime. The windy cold days like today are the ones that make it winter.)

In any case, speaking of the Pats losing….last night I confirmed what I have long held as a deep and sneaking suspicion: I have inherited my mother’s genetic makeup when it comes to sports-watching behavior.

An inherent part of our family’s lore is the story of my mother and the neighbors and the ball game. My parents lived in a house in Charlottesville that had a decent-sized yard, with some neighbors that also had a decent-sized yard. Now, the neighbors weren’t so far from us as our neighbors are now – we live in the country now and have good space, but for the city, these houses had a good 50 yards between them, I’d guess. Not bad, really. In any case, my parents were watching some sort of University of Virginia sporting event (a basketball game, most likely) and things were either very close or not going well for the ‘Hoos. In any case, much to their surprise, the doorbell rang. Turns out, the neighbors (who were friends with my folks) had heard my mother yelling and were concerned for my family’s safety. That’s how passionate my mom is when she watches sports: she gets so worked up and yells like she’s at the game, like she’s on the sidelines and the players can hear her, even when she’s in her own house, miles away. =) My dad loves to tell this story with a snicker, and I have to admit I’ve always loved it too.

Until last night, when I became my mother. I, too, have always been passionate about sports. I was that kid you see on TV at college games decked out in full team colors with the tattoos on her cheeks screaming and yelling at the ref to get some glasses. But I’m not sure I’ve done anything worthy of “disturbing the peace” when watching sports at home, until recently. Or, at least, I’ve ignored the fact that I’ve been a loudmouth. But last night, as I watched the Pats game with Jay and his roommate and his roommate’s girlfriend, I drew some stares from the folks in the room as I yelled out instructions to the players and expletives at the refs. And the funny thing is, I caught myself doing this, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from doing it. When I realized that the Pats didn’t deserve to win the game because they were playing atrociously (although I do believe that pass interference call on Asante Samuel was bulls**t), I decided watching the game was bad for my blood pressure and I decided to read a magazine and take a nap rather than work myself up for a lost cause. And again, I realized that this is what my mom does now – she’ll watch a game and if it’s not too exciting or stressful she’ll continue, but the moment she gets too worked up for too long, she’ll go read a book and take a nap.

I’m proud to continue such a fine family tradition of passion for our sports teams. I’m also proud to continue the tradition of naps. In the end, when I took a nap, I was ultimately not giving up on my team, but paying homage to Tom Brady, who himself took a nap before his first super bowl. =) And, of course, I was paying homage to my mother, who has taught me a great deal about passion, and also about when to know your limits.

Thanks, Mom. =)

I am the King, I wish for bacon!

2006-01-06T17:47:00.000-05:00

Confession #3: I am a music geek. I love music. Now, I'm not geeky enough that I know everything about every genre and/or every artist. To be honest, I don't even really investigate too heavily into the artists I like...at least, not beyond their albums and tour dates. But when I like a song, I want to know the words to it. I can still remember (and this is where the embarassing part of the confession comes in) sitting up late one night with my friend Beth, listening to a tape of C&C Music Factory, learning the words to "Gonna Make You Sweat" (better know as the "Everybody Dance Now" song). We'd listen, rewind, listen, rewind, write down some lyrics, then repeat endlessly. Once we had all the lyrics written down, we listened to the song without stopping it and sang (or rapped, if you will) along.

That's right. I loved C&C Music Factory, and I'm not ashamed of it.

I'd like to take a moment here and acknowledge Laura, who was the first to bring this topic to light. I'm going to start where she started, and then take it to a broader scale.

So, sometimes I'm not lucky enough to own the song I want the lyrics to. Sadly, I'm often not lucky enough to even like the song I want to know the lyrics to, but it keeps getting stuck in my head from the radio and the only way to get it out is to sing it correctly; otherwise I'm walking around all day singing what I *know* to be the wrong words to the song, trying to figure out how to change the wrong words into something that makes sense. Example:

The Killers have a song called "Somebody Told Me." It's on my workout mix...I enjoy The Killers. Good tuneage. So here's what I heard when I was singing along (I have put line breaks where there are pauses in the songs):

Somebody told me
That you had a boyfriend
Who looked like a girlfriend
That I had in Bellvue
Heeeeeeeeeeey last year
It's not confidential
I've got potential

I even had a whole story worked out where Bellvue was a mental institution he was in. Turns out this is what they're saying:

Somebody told me
That you had a boyfriend
Who looked like a girlfriend
That I had in Febru-
Aaaary of last year....

And so on. In my defense, it's kinda not fair. They broke a word in the middle of a pause. In any case, there it is.

As I'm writing this, I'll have you know, that I'm at work in the ER, and the attending doctor pointed out to me that I can look up any lyrics I want on the internet. My response to this is: yes, I know, but the song is only in my head when I'm not near a computer, and when I'm near a computer the song is not in my head and so I don't think to look it up. But I mean, I was pretty set on the Bellvue thing - so how do you think I found out about February? =)

There's another song on the radio right now by Fallout Boy called "Sugar We're Goin' Down." My version of the chorus:

We're going downtown
And we're tooling around
And Sugar we're goin' down swingin...

The real version:

We're going down, down
In an earlier round
And Sugar we're goin' down swingin...

Ah, misheard lyrics. They're the best. I actually have a book called 'Scuse Me While I Kiss This Guy that has a list of misheard lyrics (the title being from the Jimmy Hendrix classic Purple Rain and the real lyrics being "Scuse me, while I kiss the sky").

Along with the misheard lyric theme comes a whole slew of song anomalies. For example, it was brought to my attention this holiday season that not everyone sings the classic "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" the same way. When I was younger, we would add in extra little "chants" at the end of each line, like this:

Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer (reindeer)
Had a very shiny nose (like a lightbulb)
And if you ever saw it (saw it)
You would even say it glows (like a light bulb)
All of the other reindeer (reindeer)
Used to laugh and call him names (like Pinocchio)
They never let poor Rudolph (Rudolph)
Join in any reindeer games (like Monopoly)
Then one foggy Christmas Eve
Santa came to say (Ho, ho, ho)
Rudolph with your nose so bright
Won't you guide my sleigh tonight
Then how the reindeer loved him (loved him)
As they shouted out with glee (Yippee!)
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer (reindeer)
You'll go down in his-tor-eeeeeeeee (like Columbus)

I know that the last line is often altered (like George Washington, like the Red Sox, etc), but as it turns out, some people don't add in the Pinnocchio, Monopoly, and Ho, ho, ho lines. Who knew?

In the same vein, I tend to make up words to songs that don't have words. I can't come up with an example right now, but some famous examples include Bill Murray's brilliant rendition of the Star Wars theme and different versions of Hail to the Chief (which, as I just found out, actually has words) in My Fellow Americans:

Hail to the chief, he's the chief and he needs hailing. He is the chief, so everybody hail like crazy.

and in Dave:

Hail to the chief he's the one we all say hail to...

These kinds of things never fail to crack me up.

Finally, when I'm in a really FANTASTIC mood and everything is fun to me, I make up a tune and the lyrics to it. It's hard to describe, but it's sort of like creating a soundtrack to what I'm doing at the time. So if I'm washing laundry I make up a laundry-washing song. Things like that. It gets rather silly, and it makes things even more fun. =)

So there's my menagerie of thoughts on my music geekiness. And now you have something to entertain you at work (Emily) or home (Mom and Dad) for a while. I'll work on something new to post sometime soon, and if it ever slows down at work (upstairs), then I'll put it up here. In the meantime, HAPPY NEW YEAR! =)

Mommy, WOW! I'm a big kid now!

2005-12-11T19:30:00.000-05:00

Those of you who have lived with me at one point or another know that if world hunger could be fixed by sleep, I could singlehandedly cause a worldwide problem of obesity. In short, I like the sleep. And I'm damn good at it. I can sleep anywhere, and at any time. No matter that I got 18 hours of sleep last night, I'm going to bed after only being up for 6 hours and I'll fall right asleep and sleep through the night again. It's not a nap unless it's at least 2 hours. And I could be in the middle of Times Square on New Year's Eve with people standing on my head and others lying next to me shouting in my ears and I'd sleep right through it.

This is why travelling has never been a big deal for me. Trip to Japan - 13 hour time difference? No biggie. Kicked the jet lag the first day - both going there and coming back. Sleeping on a friend's floor? Wake up like I've been alseep for days. Bring on the challenges, I'll knock 'em out of the park.

This is also why I've had no problems sleeping in a twin bed from the age of 6 to this year. That's right folks, 28 and I still slept in a twin bed. It's just the circumstance of things: I had bunk beds when I was little, which then came apart into two twins that took me through high school. College - 4 years of dorm life, twin beds not even a question. Post college move to Florida - no money to buy furniture of my own, steal the furniture from my house - which means twin bed again. When I left Florida it was too expensive to move all my furniture so I sold it all. But I moved to Boston, to a dorm room - twin bed again. When I finally moved into an apartment for the second year in Boston, I had no money (still a student) to buy a bed, so my roomie's kind family scrounged one up from the neighbors. And, you guessed it, a twin. But none of these were a problem for me. Give me enough room for the fetal position (either lying down or sitting up or some combo of the two) and I'm out.

But this year, I decided it was time for the "big girl bed." It was time for something larger than a twin, and it was time for a real frame that looked all adult and sophisticated, and it was time for a good, solid, grown-up mattress. I shopped a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG time before picking anything out. There were many trips to several stores during which I hemmed and hawed and measured and hemmed and hawed some more and budgeted and tried desperately to figure out what it was I wanted after 22 years of not really choosing. I ended up with a whole bedroom set, which makes my bedroom look really like a big girl room, and it's in the urban shaker style, and it's cherry. I absolutely love it. I love walking into my room, I love hanging out in my room, I love the matching of the set and the warm comfy aura of my room. But the story doesn't end there. Oh, NO.

When you buy a bed of a new size, you must buy a new box spring and mattress. I had to bring someone with me to help out with this, because...well...see above. It's all the same to me (or so I thought), so I had no idea what was good and what wasn't. Now, mattress shopping is just as intensive as bed shopping. You go to stores, and you look at all the beds in the store, and all you want to do is lie down and take a nap immediately (or, at least I did). First you must decide whether you want a soft mattress, a hard mattress, or a medium mattress. Regular, pillow-top, or memory foam? Low profile box spring or high profile? After many many MANY recommendations, I went with the pillow top. But then there was the decision - what kind of mattress under the pillow top? I ended up with something in the middle, slightly firm but not rock-hard. And while I could tell the difference between the mattress I chose and others (after lying on what felt like hundreds of mattresses thousands of times), the difference was just barely palpable.

But things have changed, dear friends.

I am now a bed snob.

I can still sleep anywhere, on anything, but I can tell the difference between my bed and others. My bed is the BEST BED in the whole entire UNIVERSE. Others may try to be my bed, but they pale in comparison. I mean, it's the whole package - the frame, with its warm inviting coloring that matches the rest of the furniture in the room; the super-comfy pillow top mattress; the sunset colors I've gotten my sheets and curtains in; the down comforter that keeps me toasty and snuggly on the cold New England nights. I couldn't ask for more.

I really thought that getting the big girl bed wouldn't change anything, save the fact that I sleep in the fetal position. I figured by switching to a queen I would, over time, spread out to cover the space I had. It's the same concept as the idea that when you move into a place, even if it seems too big...you'll expand to fill the space you have. But I have changed in more ways than I ever could have imagined. I can still sleep like a champ, but I'm picky about my bed now. So if I plan to try that New Year's Eve stunt, I'll have to bring my bed with me. =)

Pumpkin Pride

2005-12-04T22:46:00.000-05:00

I don't know when I began enjoying pumpkin-flavored things, but BOY DO I EVER LOVE IT. A list of pumpkin-flavored items I have consumed this holiday season (in no particular order):

pie
chai
frozen yogurt
ice cream
custard
spice bars
pancakes
cake
bread

I think that's all of them. They were all very tasty. If you know of any good pumpkin recipes, please feel free to share them. =)

Okay...OKAY!

2005-11-09T13:55:00.000-05:00

Alright already!

You're right, communal food doesn't really work. At least not in our experiences...but it seems to be working for my roommates. A few clarifications:

1. I was merely venting yesterday. If it was a real problem, I'd talk to them all about it in person (I did this with a dishes issue we were having). Absolutely NO snippy notes. I agree wholeheartedly.

2. I've tried most of your suggestions in the past - with success - I had a mini-fridge in the dorms where I kept most of my food, my roommate last year and I split the fridge in half and if we used up something not ours we replaced it in a day. I think, though, that I'm not going to buy another mini fridge for just 9 months. And, well...it's awfully tough to split up a fridge into 5 sections and have everyone have enough room for their groceries. I think each situation has it's own good solution, and this one, for me, is to try and ease up on the OCD about food. I can live just as easy on cereal (and I'm not really picky about cereal when it comes down to it) as I can on granola. Sometimes there needs to be a compromise to preserve a relationship you love. Picking and choosing your battles - now there's a lesson I could use some practice in. At the same time, I think if it gets bad, I'll put my name on everything (in my roommates' defense I got home last night and there was an unopened jar of blackberry jam a few weeks old with my name on it) and I think my roommates will understand. And I do indeed eat some of their stuff sometimes. Which leads me to the next thing...

3. I think living with other people who grocery shop separately from you introduces a "grass is always greener" kind of mentality about food. You buy what you think you want, or what you're used to buying; and then they buy something you hadn't thought of - something your eyes glazed over as you scanned the grocery aisle...and it's new and sexy to you and immediatley all your food seems dull and unappetizing. It's the same thing that happens at the lunch table at elementary school - the trading of different items in lunches to make exactly the lunch you never realized you wanted until you saw it in other people's lunchboxes. Anyway, I think this is the phenomenon that perpetuates the communal food policy in many houses. It gives us OPTIONS we wouldn't have with the food we buy ourselves.

In any case, thanks for letting me vent, and sharing your stories, and offering up advice. You're sweet to think of me.

I'm working 12 days in a row (currently on day 10 of 12) so I'm prone to blowing off work this week...keep your eyes peeled for more posts! (Of course, now that I've said that, I've jinxed myself into a week of business and lack of creativity for good posts.)

No Kenny, that's MY pot pie!

2005-11-08T16:11:00.000-05:00

(Alternatively titled: The post in which Kristy discovers that "communal food" is not for her.)

I have moved into a brothel.

Well, OK, it's not REALLY a brothel, but in some states it is - 5 unmarried women living together in the same residence. Remember when I was writing all about how moving sucks ? This is where I moved.

Let's start with the good: I love the house we live in. Yes, it's a fixer-upper. But it's cute, and we have all-new windows (key for keeping in the heat this winter), and good appliances, and lots of space. And it's in a GREAT area with TONS of finger-lickin'-good restaurants. And I love my roommates. They are considerate, intelligent, fun girls who are both honest and kind.

OK...here's where the pseudo-rant starts. When we moved in, we discussed the fact that with 5 of us sharing one refrigerator, there might be an issue with space for cold food. To that end, my roomates suggested a "communal food" arrangement - wherein we would all be privy to the food in the house, and if we ran out then the next person in the house who went grocery shopping would pick up more of what we were out of. (We are keeping a "communal food" list on the fridge so that we can write up when we run out of something.) Also, if you bought something that you wanted just for yourself, you write your name on it and it's yours.

In some ways, this makes sense. We all eat pita and hummus. No sense in each of us buying a big tub of hummus and a bag of pita and taking up tons of storage space when we could buy one tub of hummus and two bags of pita and just refill as needed. A few of us drink soy milk - I personally only drink the vanilla kind, and let them know, and it was agreed we'd buy that for the soy milk drinkers. So, that part of it makes sense.

I think, also, if you are young and carefree and of the mindset that food fills you up and as long as it's not moldy you can eat whatever...this also is a policy that works. But, I'm the crotchety old lady of the house and I have a little bit of OCD about food in that I only like certain things and specific brands of certain things and Iwant those things to be there when I want to eat them. It's just how I am. So, for me, this policy does not really work, because I'm not so flexible about what I eat.

Example: I woke up yesterday and went to the kitchen to start my morning routine (hot granola with vanilla soymilk, then shower, then get dressed, then work). No granola. That's OK, I'm not entirely inflexible. It's not freezing outside, I can have cold cereal. I pour a bowl of honey-nut Cheerios and go to the fridge.

(I should interject here that I had not been in the house much that weekend due to work and other functions, and I'm pretty sure I didn't eat there at all so I had not had time to take inventory of what we had to eat.)

In any case...you can probably guess where this is going: no vanilla soy milk. That's OK, I'm actually pretty bendy and easy-going when you think of it - I'll just take lactaid pills and have regular milk on my cereal. Except - wait - no regular milk either. Here are the options for my cereal that morning: orange juice (hate it), light cream (yes, like the kind for coffee), water. In the end, because I can't function very well without eating something to get me going in the morning, I ate the Cheerios. DRY. Like an infant. It wasn't the most miserable experience I've ever had, but it did make me grumpy.

And it got me thinking - when was the last time I went to the grocery store and didn't buy vanilla soy milk and granola cereal? We've been out of the granola cereal for a while, and I have been refusing to buy it because I know I'm not the only one who eats it and it's rather expensive. Are we also usually almost out of soy milk and I just always buy it because I need it?

So here's the dilemma: do I wait it out and suffer through OCD convulsions of having to eat bizarre things I wasn't planning on and don't necessarily want until they buy the things I like to eat again, or do I buy them knowing I'm paying for other people to eat?

I honestly believe that my roommates don't do this on purpose, mind you. I think they're just not as old and crotchety and grumpy and OCD about food as I am. I think if they wake up and can't have their hot granola with vanilla soy milk, or any cereal at all, or even any breakfast at all, they're just fine. And so the communal food idea works for them. But for me, I like my food to be there when I want it.

It might even work for me if there were just two of us living, so we could check in on taking the last bit of something. But there are 5 of us, and food is expensive, and I'm starting to get grumpy. I'm already the only person who writes their name on things they want for themselves. But I have no other choice! And honestly, I'm not convinced that policy works anyway...since I wrote my name on 2 cans of Spaghettio's (I told you I had OCD about food - Spaghettio's is a comfort food and when I want it nothing else will satisfy me) and they're no in the cabinet anymore. There are other cans of Spaghettio's there, but none with my name on them so there's no way to stop someone from eating them and then there would be none when I went to get them.

Of course, a lot of this could stem from the fact that I'm an only child and don't share well. I mean, I can share with one other person, but when I have to share with 4 other people...I have much less control over the stuff I'm sharing and it freaks me out. Do you think I can blame my parents for this one? I could certainly try - if they'd had another child maybe "communal food" would work for me.

Or, maybe....I should have known better at 28 than to live with more than one other person. =) OK, mom, you're off the hook.

In any case, it's not something that will kill me, and I do love the girls I live with and love where we live...so in the end I think the whole communal food mess is something I could learn to live with to keep living in such a great environment. Old dog, new trick. Go figure. ;)

Workin' in a coal mine...goin' down down down...

2005-10-19T15:29:00.000-05:00

I had a thought today. (Sidebar: I'm working on another, more lengthy post for you on my latest adventures, but I haven't posted in a while and had this thought and it's quick and easy so I have time for it so you're getting this now and the other stuff later. Love it or leave it.)

Does anybody really work 9-5 anymore? Is that even a real shift? Dolly Parton sings about it, people use it as a generic description for a day job (M-F, 8 hours a day: 40 hours a week), but does anyone really go in at 9 and leave at 5?

What got me thinking about this is that I now have a "9 to 5" job. But I work 8 to 4:30. If I came in at 9, I'd have to leave at 5:30 (or leave at 5 but not eat lunch). To leave at 5 I'd have to get in at 8:30 (or get in at 9 and not eat lunch).

Every workplace I've been at has had a "lunch" programmed somewhere into the day - an amount of time, unpaid, where you sit and eat. This time, being programmed in the middle of the day, extends your actual time at work to more than 8 hours. And 9 to 5 is exactly 8 hours, so you'd either get paid 7.5 hours a day or have a paid lunch, or not eat.

So this post is more of a question - a survey, if you will - do y'all get paid for lunch? Do you work more than 8 hours? What the heck is your shift?

(We're keeping in mind that this is your scheduled work hours, not all that time you spend commuting or staying late to fix that error you made at 4:45.)

Just wondering.

What is this, Ticketmaster?!?!?

2005-10-03T12:33:00.000-05:00

You may notice when you try to comment now that I've put on word verification for my comments. I didn't really want to do it, but as it turns out I've gotten a string of spam comments - where it looks like the person is commenting (Hey, really like your blog, I've bookmarked it and will continue to follow your progress!) but then they try to sell you something (I've got a blog on all the cheapest cellular phone accessories out there - check it out! *insert web address here*). So, to see if I can stop this, I'm adding word verification. Sorry to make the extra step there for ya, but really...aren't I worth the effort? ;)

I've got a few ideas rolling around in my head...but I'm in the midst of job upheaval so I'll do what I can when I can in the next few weeks. Keep checking in!

Proof that I should be in charge.

2005-09-24T12:54:00.000-05:00

I have a BRILLIANT idea.

I think I mentioned that I was on vacation in Maine this week, and as I drove home on Thursday to go back to work, I ran into a bit of traffic. This was neither unexpected nor unusual, since I was getting close to Boston...soon to be renamed "City of Eternal Construction and NO THE BIG DIG IS NOT DONE YET YES IT HAS BEEN MORE THAN 10 YEARS IT WILL NEVER BE DONE IT IS A BIG CONSPIRACY AND A HUGE HOAX DON'T ASK ANYMORE." (It's a long name, but seems to save time when people ask where you're from if you just give all that info up front, because if you say "Boston," there's going to be a series of questions resulting in the above statements.) In any case, I digress. So, I ran into some traffic.

Turns out they were repaving the highway. Now, I'm sure many of you have driven by a highway repair crew doing some repaving, but have any of you had the chance to drive by it so slowly that you get an up-close-and-personal view of exactly what the machines are doing? I've seen some post-pavement cleaning, and some pre-pavement preparations; but never have I had the chance to see them actually IN the process of laying down the pavement. It's actually kind of cool - there's this big truck and it lays down pavement, 1 to 2 inches thick and a whole highway lane wide, all at once. As the truck drives, it leaves behind highway that looks ready to go. (Now, of course it's not, since it's still hot and all, you'd probably ruin it by driving on it, but it *looks* ready which is really cool.) And I noticed, as I drove by this event quite slowly, that the traffic I was in was not from the lane closure but from people fascinated by this magnificent machine.

Hmmm...I thought to myself. This is similar to the phenomenon that happens at evening rush hour here in Boston - there is ANOTHER magnificent machine that goes along the highway and moves those huge concrete highway dividers (I think they're called NJ dividers or something...they're about the length of one car each and they put them up to block off a lane usually when doing construction or something...know what I'm talking about?). Well, in Boston we use those highway dividers to widen one side of the highway or another depending on the direction of rush hour traffic. In the morning the side that goes into the city is wider, and then the machine comes through in the afternoon and moves the dividers and the side that leaves the city is wider. Makes sense enough. Anyway, what's marvelous about this machine is that it picks up and moves these dividers in a fluid motion, as if they were all one unit. And it does it fairly quickly, considering these dividers are built to be solid and heavy enough to stop a car should someone go flying into one of them. Anyway, I think it's really cool to watch. But the issue is, it causes more traffic than it alleviates because apparently the rest of Boston agrees with me. Even though it makes the lanes wider, traffic still bottlenecks because everyone slows down to look at it.

It was at this point that I realized what we ought to do. About 5 miles before any fun-looking machines are going to do work on a highway we put up a big sign that says "WICKED COOL MACHINE DOING WORK 5 MILES AHEAD IN LEFT LANE. RUBBERNECKERS PLEASE GET INTO LEFT LANE NOW. THOSE NOT WISHING TO LOOK AT COOL MACHINE'S MAGICAL SKILLZ, GET INTO RIGHT LANES." Then, we put cops up by the wicked cool machine. And they give out tickets to anyone trying to rubberneck from the right lanes. You have to choose. If you're feeling curious, you choose to get into the left lane. If you're in a hurry, you get into the right lane.

Now, there's some kinks in this plan, I know. What if people change their minds? We'd have to find a way to make it illegal or impossible for this to happen...either make it such a huge fine that it deters people from changing lanes, or maybe put up some of those orange barrels (easier to move, and I don't think they need a fun machine to be moved so when they were being put out it wouldn't cause traffic) to prevent lane changes after a certain point. And we'd clearly have to make the ticket for rubbernecking from the right lanes pretty huge too, and have some very astute cops. But overall, I think this could work. And it could create some jobs, which is good for the economy and all.

Anyway, just some proof that I'm brilliant and should be in charge.

Of course, I don't want to be in charge. Who the hell wants that job? ICK. Too much pressure to solve everything. I'd just rather have it recognized that I should be in charge because I'm so wicked smaht and have people bring me bon-bons and hang on my every word when I have a brilliant idea and leave me alone otherwise.

That's not too much to ask, is it? ;)

Yo ho ho and a bucket of chum!

2005-09-19T19:05:00.000-05:00

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, mateys! Red Charity Bonney here, invitin' you to celebrate Talk Like a Pirate Day with me! And if ye don't, well...I'll throw ya in the brig and feed you chum and set my salty wenches on you with their high-pitched voices and their irritating gossip! And if ye likes that sort of thing, I'll make ya walk the plank! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

That's right folks, it's international Talk Like a Pirate Day. Of course, by the time I post this it'll be fairly late in the day, so many of you may have missed out on the fun. Fear not, fellow pirate lovers! You can talk like a pirate any day, in my humble opinion! Just follow the link above and go through the menus - there's tons of fun (and important) time wasters like a pirate glossary, pirate pick up lines, and quizzes in which you can get in touch with your inner pirate. For example, I did not pick the name "Red Charity Bonney" all by myself - no no! I took a soul-searching multiple choice quiz and the masters of piracy examined my choices and let me know how my pirate personality would best be expressed in name form. See below:

My pirate name is:

Red Charity Bonney

Passion is a big part of your life, which makes sense for a pirate.
You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from
full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

I also took a quiz which explored my "pirattitude" in even MORE depth and came up with a personality profile (bonus points for this quiz, which happens to mention the muppets on several occasions throughout the questions):

You are Ol' Chummy

You look old for your age. Hygiene is just that thing that happens
to other Pirates. You like what you like. Taking a cannonball to the
head in your younger days hasn't helped. Not one to take risks, you
enjoy quiet evenings on your bunk. You're a collector. You like things.
Not, "nice" things- just things. Some people think of you as a blight
on humanity - a carbuncle on the alabaster skin of man. You think of
yourself as a swell guy with lots of friend - just the one, but lots of
him. If you weren't a pirate, but rather lived in the 21st Century, you
would be the kind of guy who has played a computer game for four days
without thinking of showering and living solely on Mountain Dew and
Cool Ranch Doritos. What you lack in physical attractiveness you more
than make up for in interesting skin conditions. What's the upside of
all of this? With the Captain's lifestyle, you are likely to be running
the ship in a week or two. Ahead! Warp Factor ONE!

What's Yer Inner Pirate?
brought to you by The
Official Talk Like A Pirate Web Site. Arrrrr!

What's scary is how dead-on this profile is. Even when you take out all the pirate references, it makes sense. I *do* like things. They don't have to be nice things. Those of you who know me know that I'm easily amused by small things and a gift from the dollar store is almost more likely to be cherished than a gift from Tiffany's. I just like crap. (Don't get me wrong, I have champagne tastes about certain things, but I just totally dig those cheap-o toys they sell at dollar stores like potato guns and pinwheels.) And we've all explored the nature of my nickname "Krashworth" - I'm VERY likely to have been hit in the head with a cannonball! In fact, I may have hit the cannonball with my head instead of the other way around! But the scariest part is the part about playing video games with only soda and junk food for sustinance. Because, well, we all know that story. Scaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-ry.

Anyway, this pirate is up in Maine with her pirate lineage (aka my parents) enjoying a little time off from plundering and pillaging. We managed to celebrate by wearing pirate tatoos all day and interjecting our conversations with pirate speak like "shiver me timbers" and "bunghole" and "grog" and all sorts of other fun. We also played mini-golf at Pirate's cove (of course). The day was a beauty, as the pirate-folk would say. And so I'll sign off reminding you all to:

Keep an eye out for any scallywags tryin' to plunder your booty; sharpen your swashbuckling skills smartly before any bilge rats take ye unawares; and have ye a feast of chum and grog to celebrate!

Moving Sucks (Redux)

2005-09-02T21:51:00.000-05:00

This week I am in the midst of a move, and I won't have regular internet access again until Wednesday. Lest I encounter any angry comments about my lack of posting, I thought I'd give you something to chew on whilst I'm finding a place to put all my stuff. (That's right, I used "lest" and "whilst" in the same sentence. I like those words. They're fun. You should use them more. In fact, if you're balking at what I've done, deep inside you're just jealous.) ;)

(As a sidebar, I have several decent ideas for posts, so when I have some time there should be some regular posting in the near future.)

Since I'm moving for the second time in three months, I've had a fair amount of thoughts on it. My last post on moving was straight to the point, and dead on. But I have an addendum now:

Moving sucks less if you have a kick-ass boyfriend to help you out (or, really any good friend/significant other/assistant/personal slave; but I wanted to give a HUGE shout-out to Jay, since he singlehandedly saved my life this week). Now, everyone has a different packing style. I'm a sloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow packer. I kind of make a big mess and then organize it and then pack it all up. I sit around and moan about how much I hate packing, then after 3 hours (the length of a really bad movie I've seen 100 times on TV, which I watch as an excuse - any excuse - not to have to pack), I pull out a whole bunch of stuff and throw it haphazardly in boxes. Next I spend some time moaning about how much I hate packing, watch some more bad TV, then get motivated and take everything out of the boxes, make a big pile, organize it into little piles, and then put the organized piles into boxes. And it all turns out OK in the end, but it takes forever.

This week I didn't have forever. I had a few short hours to pack, and a few short hours to move it all. Jay came over, though, and while I was in the midst of my second round of griping about how much I hate moving (we substituted the Red Sox game for the really bad movie) and throwing things haphazardly into boxes...he stopped me, asked what needed to be packed, and suddenly a whilrwind ran through my room and almost everything was packed. Then he started carrying all the heavy stuff down while I did easy packing like clothes and stuff. And he stuffed our cars full and the next day he helped me unload all of it after we both had been at work. So moving hasn't really sucked all that much this time.

It actually reminds me of the time I was packing to go to my freshman year at William and Mary and Emily came over and thinned out my wardrobe by half so I could fit everything in the suitcase. She was right, too....I hadn't worn half the stuff I had originally packed in years, and I didn't miss it when I didn't pack it.

Which leads me to the second train of thought I've had in the past week (and I have every time I move): how much stuff do I *really* need? Because I knew I would be moving three months after I moved up to Salem in May, I packed a whole bunch of stuff I thought I could live without for three months and kept it stored in the basement. As I loaded all that stuff up in my car, I wondered - if I lived without it for the whole summer, do I really need it? Now, some of it is winter clothes, and living in Boston, I NEED it. But the other stuff...well.... And then there's the stuff I had packed up from Florida that I left at my parents' house in Virginia when I came to Boston (no room in the dorm room for all my stuff when I moved up here)...that's going to be coming up to Boston too, and I wonder how much I really need all that, since I've been living without it for two years.

The point is, my final stage of packing is the point when I'm almost done, when almost everything is packed and moved, and I'm sick of the whole mess. I reach a point where I start evaluating my life in a more existential/zen/minimalist view and throwing out things willy-nilly because I think to myself, "Self, how much stuff do you *really* need?"

I have to say, I'm dying to know what I've been living without these past months and years. I'm sure some of it will return to good use in my daily life, and some of it will be donated to goodwill, and some of it will sit, stored, until I move again, and re-assess my need for it.

In the meantime, I'm really thankful for all the things I have. And the best thing I have, I think, is good friends and family who support me...and who help me with my deficiencies (especially those that fall under the "moving/packing" category). And in the end, that's *really* all I need.

How sleep and Pizza Hut saved my life (Or, "Confession #2")

2005-08-18T19:13:00.000-05:00

Are you ready for this one? (Mom, you may want to not read this. You're going to shake your head in dismay.)

I once called in to work for three days in a row just to help my roommate defeat a playstation game.

Yeah, you read that right. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Well, OK, I am a little. But it was SOOOOO fun! It's like a little guilty pleasure...some people were in the Scott Baio fan club, I was obsessed with Walt Disney World Magical Racing Tour. Here's the story:

First of all, you'll need a little background. When I worked at Walt Disney World, they had this fantastic high school-esque policy regarding call-ins. Your whole hired/fired status worked on a point system (a la demerits). Three points got you a reprimand, and three reprimands within 12 months got you fired. So you got points for different things: being late, leaving early...some things were partial points and some things were whole points. Calling in for a personal day cost you a whole point for each day, but calling in sick only cost you one point for three days in a row. More than three days and you needed a doctor's note (so you couldn't go on vacation and call in sick for 6 days, have just 2 points, and get away with it easily). OK, so knowing that...

I came home from work one day frustrated and tired. My roommate Mindy had rented a Playstation (1, back in the prehistoric days before PS2) from Blockbuster and she had rented a game. As soon as I walked in the door she mauled me jabbering about some game her boyfriend had rented for his playstation that was SOOOOOOOOOOO fun and we had to play it. So I sat down and joined her. Within 5 minutes I was hooked. The game is designed so that you are Disney characters racing go-karts through the rides at Walt Disney World. I think I probably got home that night around 9:30, and we might have gone to sleep around 3am. We left both the Playstation and the TV on lest we lose all the work we'd put in beating different "rides" and levels. We had conquered the first level on each of the rides, but the increasing difficulty was making the second level slow-going. Oh, and we slept on the floor in front of the TV to protect it in case our other roommate, Ali, came home and tried to turn it off. We also wrote her a note telling her not to touch ANYTHING. We were quite serious about this.

Woke up in the morning amidst blankets and pillows and shook Mindy awake. Immediately began working on the game again. Within the hour we realized a power outtage could ruin all our hard work, and paused the game, wrote another note for Ali, and left for Wal-Mart to purchase a memory card (that's right, a memory card for a Playstation we didn't even own). While out, we realized sustinance would be key to our ability to focus. Not wanting to lose precious time, we hit the McDonald's drive through and headed home. A few hours later, when it was time for me to go to work, I decided we'd never conquer the game and find out the "surprise" at the end if I had to waste 8 hours at work. I called in sick (knowing full well we'd never beat the game in just the one day and not wanting to get a reprimand for taking three personal days to beat a video game) and thus it began. The trip to WalMart was the last time I left the house (or the spot on the floor in front of the TV, for that matter) for the next three days. We ordered Pizza Hut when we were hungry, napped in front of the TV when we were tired, and had a fort of pillows and blankets to keep us comfy.

You may ask, why are you admitting this to us, Kristy? Well, a few weeks ago I was checking the news at work and discovered this story. Clearly the man was an amateur. Or Pizza Hut and sleep saved my life. Either way, I had a good chuckle remembering my days of hooky-playing back in O-town. And, I take some satisfaction in the idea that I cheated death. =)

(Mom: if you're still reading...this adventure was not for nothing...Fear Not: we beat the game. You can rest easy now.)

Confession #1

2005-08-11T13:12:00.000-05:00

I know, two posts in as many days. Try not to have a heart attack.

OK, time for some confessions. Number one: I have become the person I used to make fun of. Read on....

I have never been a coffee drinker. I just don't like the taste of it. I don't like tiramisu for this reason, and and I don't like coffee ice cream. I just don't like any of it. I'm sure you do like it, and I'm happy for you that you do. I don't. I'm actually kind of proud of it. I made it through both college and grad school without ever forcing myself to start "liking" coffee enough to keep awake to do all the crazy things I had to do in the midst of doing all the crazy things I wanted to do.

Now, don't think I made it all this time without the aid of caffeine. In college it was diet coke and iced tea. And then, sometime while I was living in Florida, someone introduced me to chai tea. It's funny, I have no idea who did it...and I can't really remember hitting up too many Starbucks for chai in Florida, but I remember having the obsession with it long before I moved up to Massachusetts. In any case...whoever introduced me to chai (maybe it was Laura? now that I'm thinking of it I think it was her...she gave me some of hers in Carytown one day as we were walking and shopping....hmmm....) sent me down a path I can never retrace.

I used to make fun of the people obsessed with coffee, and how they'd get all happy when they discovered some new flavor or new way to have it. The people who could speak in all the shortcuts of the Starbucks lingo: "I'll have a grande half-calf triple non-fat extra foamy caramel latte with a shot of hazelnut please." Seriously? Order your coffee in english. And what's with the sizes? Tall, Grande, Venti? Is Starbucks really trying to pretend like they're spanish? Or italian? Which is it anyway? C'mon! None of those sizes sound small, but I see small cups. Why must it be so hard?

This is what I used to think. After my introduction to chai tea, I've been addicted to it as my form of caffeine. It's just so damn tasty. And Starbucks has a great, very sweet yet still spicy blend. But I still felt justified in making fun of the coffee drinkers, because I would go into starbucks and order either a small, a medium, or "the biggest size you have." And I just ordered a chai. Nobody walks into Starbucks and orders a "coffee." You go there because you want to qualify your coffee with something crazy in it. You want a coffee you'll go to 7-11. But I was separate from the regular Starbucks patrons because my order was simple ("chai"). Monosyllabic, even.

Now, as it turns out, you can get whipped cream on your hot chai. And it melts into the chai, and makes it even sweeter and creamier and yummier than it already was. So my order got more complicated ("chai with whipped"), and the distance between me and those I made fun of got a little smaller. Then I discovered that you could get your chai tea made with nonfat milk, which fit better with my plan to eat healthier and lose weight, as long as I didn't order the whipped cream. So my order stayed about the same complexity ("non-fat chai"). Then I discovered the beauty of icing your tea when it's hot outside and you'd like a cool refreshing drink, increasing the complexity yet again ("non-fat iced chai"). But I still felt some sort of distance between me and the coffee drinkers, as I hadn't figured out the lingo entirely yet. I was still ordering small/medium/oh-my-god-if-I-don't-get-caffeine-I'll-never-stay-awake sizes, and I ordered my non-fat iced chai as "iced chai made with skim milk."

Today, all that changed. I walked into Starbucks, ready to order with the lingo - venti (the biggest) non-fat half-ice chai (half ice because then you get more drink that way, and it stays just as cold and gets less watery when the ice melts). And I found out YET ANOTHER way to sink me to the level of those I used to make fun of: the woman in front of me ordered a SOY chai.

Now, I'm lactose intolerant. So anytime I want to have a chai I usually have to pop some lactaid, which I don't always have on hand (although I try to carry a stash with me). But if they use soy milk, I don't have to take any lactaid. I wish you could have seen the joy on my face as I ordered my venti half-ice soy chai.

But this isn't even the worst! The worst is that as I walked out, I was thinking, "I wonder if they have non-fat soy milk?" I'm almost afraid to ask, because then I will be fully the person I used to make fun of as I order my venti non-fat half-ice soy chai.

But you know what? I'm going to enjoy it soooooo much that I won't even care. =)

In the words of Annie Lennox....

2005-08-10T13:23:00.000-05:00

WHY..............

It amazes me how little people really think about anything these days. Myself included. The girls for whom I babysit, now two and a half, are in the "why" stage. This means everything is "why?" It's actually kind of funny, because when I say "everything is 'why?'" I mean everything. Some of it makes sense, and some of it doesn't. For example:

Girls: Why carrots and apples and cheese for snack today?
Me: Because that's what your mom decided to make for you to eat today.
Girls: Why mom make that?
Me: Because your mom likes you to eat healthy, so you can grow up to be healthy and happy adults.
Girls: Why?
Me: Because that's what most parents want for their kids - health and happiness.
Girls: Why?
Me: Because they love you and want the best for you.
Girls: Why?
Me: Uhhhh...welll....because....OK. You love mommy and daddy, right?
Girls: Yes.
Me: Do you want bad things for them?
Girls: No.
Me: What kind of things do you want for them?
Girls: Good things!
Me: Riiiiiiiiight. And they love you, just like you love them, and so they want good things for you just like you want good things for them.
Girls: Oh.

So that all made sense to me. But then we have exchanges like this:

Girls: Why door?
Me: What do you mean, "Why door?"
Girls: What's that? (pointing to door)
Me: You know what that is. What is that?
Girls: Front door.
Me: Right.

What the hell? "Why door?" But the thing is, I think it's great that they have so many questions, and want to know about the world, and I don't want to squash that by saying something like "Just because." Kids' whole job is to learn about the world, and as their babysitter it's my whole job to help them. So I try really hard to answer their questions. Which reminds me that although I like to think I'm a person who really thinks about life and explores the depths of knowledge available to me, I really don't. I have to get really creative sometimes to answer their questions, and sometimes I have to tell them I don't know or pull out my laptop and google it for them. Jay's favorite example of my creativity follows (Jay being the man I have found to kiss, mentioned in a previous post):

Girls: Why the truck make a lot of noise?
Me: Uhhh...well, because machines that do big jobs make a lot of noise.
Girls: Why?
Me: Uhhh...because they're working so hard they can't be quiet. You know how when you make a big poop sometimes you grunt? Because you're working so hard? The machines are like that - they're working SO hard that they have to make noise.
Girls: Oh.

It's not entirely untrue, is it? It's at least true in a general sense and it's on a level they can understand and relate to. But when I think about it, why do big trucks make so much noise? Is there a way to make them quieter?

It just goes to highlight the old adage of "the more you learn, the more you realize how little you know."

But this not thinking phenomenon extends further than myself, the two year olds I babysit, and big trucks. File the next story under the "If I ran the world things would be run a different way" header...

At the beginning of this summer I established Massachusetts residency, thus becoming an official "Masshole." Establishing residency is pretty easy - get a liscence, transfer your voting privileges up here, and you're set. So I headed out to the Boston RMV (Registry of Motor Vehicles) to get my lisence. Now, I prepared myself. I brought a book. I know how the RMV is. We all do. It's slow and long and painful. So I was ready. I got my number and sat down for an interminable wait. Here's the thing: in a city that is known for its vast number of higher educational institutions and thus known as a center of knowledge and culture, the RMV is apparently run by idiots. Wanna know how I know that the RMV is run by idiots? The benches are wicked uncomfortable.

Seriously, folks. It takes TWO seconds to think about things like this. You know you're running the RMV, you're planning it out, and you think - Hey, it would be nice if people weren't so mean when they came up to the counter. How can we help them not be in a bad mood? I know they thought about these things because they installed things like the number system so you can track how close you are to getting up front, and they allow you to review your picture and if you don't like it they'll take it again. Now, how hard is it to think about ordering comfortable benches? Or at least something designed to sit on? I'm telling you - these benches are clearly ornamental in nature and not functional in the least. Anyone who's been to a Massachusetts RMV will back me up - I've been to one other office and have friends who have been to even more offices and the benches are all the same. In a city that produces tens of thousands of smart graduates on a regular basis, how in the hell did they manage to hire someone who doesn't think to do this simple job? OY.

In any case, it just reminds me to be more mindful in my work. So, for my part, I'm going to try and think more about things like other people's perspectives, how what I'm doing affects other people, and try to learn more about the world around me. And I'm going to warn people before they go to the RMV that they should bring their own chair. =)

music: What else? "Why" by Annie Lennox

I wish grape soda had caffeine.

2005-07-22T20:24:00.000-05:00

So, I'm sitting here at work, and I'm kinda tired (story below), and I'm feeling guilty about the lack of blogging. Both Emily and Adam have written me to comment on my slacking. In my defense, I've been thinking about it, I just might have early-onset Alzheimers (story below). In any case, I was tired and went to go get a soda to perk up, and found that the soda machines upstairs sell grape soda. So now I want grape soda, but I need the caffeine. I ended up choosing caffeine for the sake of those I work with and the patients I'm seeing, but I'd really be grateful if any of you could invent a grape soda with caffeine and then have my hospital stock it in our machines.

(BTW: this is a similar quandry to the one I run into on Sundays, wherein I crave Chik-Fil-A but can't have it thanks to their right-wing crazy policy of being closed on "The Lord's Day. Honestly, Chik-Fil-A wasn't around in the time of Jesus, but if it had, I'm 100% sure he would have made some sort of statement to ammend the scripture that prevents the world from enjoying their delicious chicken. I'm not sure what it is they do to their chicken - perhaps they add some sort of narcotic to the breading - but it is SOOOOOOOO good that I crave it fortnightly. That's right, fortnightly.)

In any case, I've had a little caffeine, so the brain is up and working (for the most part), and so I shall appease dear Em and Adam and try to come up with something clever.

Part of the problem has been that my brain has been compeltely non-functional as of late. More specifically, I'm having what I'm self-diagnosing (with my zero years of medical school) as some sort of short-term memory loss. Now, I consider myself a reasonably intelligent gal, who's reasonably responsible. However, I have managed to lock myself out of the place in which I'm living 5 times this year, and I've left my lights on in my car at least 5 times (after the first 3 I had to replace the poor battery). And while I'm a little scatterbrained, I'm not this bad, which is confirmed by the fact that my friends Brianna and Erin had a conversation this week about how worried they are concerning my lack of ability to remember everyday items like keys. Well, OK, their conversation was more of a friendly little laugh at my mishaps rather than some sort of intervention-oriented serious discussion....but still, it's not just me who feels this is out of character. In any case, I can remember at least 3 distinct times when I had a fantastically funny blog idea and the next day when I had time to blog had completely forgotten it (this time being one of those). And who knows how many more there were that I've forgotten? =) In any case, I'm looking into this further with the eye of a hypochondriac, and I'll be talking to my doctors and such, and in the end I'm sure about two months from now you'll see a post wherein I admit that I'm getting older, and in fact, true to the adage, the memory is the first thing to go.

While I combat my early-onset Alzheimers I'll keep you updated on the Summer of Krash. It's going quite well, actually: I've had an enormous amount of fun. Turns out Madison Avenue is right: all you need is a good slogan to get something going. Since I declared this the Summer of Krash, I've been to San Francisco, Monterey (shout out to my girl Toma who was my gracious hostess), a Jimmy Buffet concert, New York, and Cape Cod. I've also met someone nice to kiss, found a sweet place to live in the fall, and made some new friends. In the midst of all this, I haven't slept much (hence the need for caffeine), which is an ironic element of the summer of Krash since I love to sleep almost as much as I love cheese. And if these things weren't enough, tomorrow I'm hosting *the* event of the summer: my birthday party.

In case you think I'm joking about the birthday party being uber-awesome, let me give you the run-down: it will have two parts, and a theme. Oh yes, a theme. The theme is "Field Day," and in the first part I'm meeting friends on the Cambridge Common for some friendly competition: dizzy bat races, water balloon toss, pass-the-whiffle-ball-with-your-neck game, human knot game, three-legged race, and a rousing game of SPUD. We'll break for showers and rest, and then re-convene for part two at the Good Time Emporium (my friends from Florida will find this hilarious) for a night of darts, pool, skee ball, tetris, and other assorted fun and games. I'm not sure it's possible to pack more fun into a themed day.

So there you have it! Match.com worked for me (hence the nice man I'm kissing on a regular basis), my birthday rules, and I'm getting old. Not bad. I'm pleased with the Summer of Krash, and it's only half over. I'm more than willing to lisence my idea to anyone else for next summer (or if you'd like it to be sooner, you could try the Fall, Winter, or Spring of [your name here]) along with some helpful handy tips on how to make the whole thing work. All I ask is you include me somehow on the fun, or pay me with cake. I like cake.

In the meantime, I'll try to start carrying around a pen and paper with me so I can write down my great blog ideas when I have them. (This, of course, assumes that I'll be able to remember why I'm carrying a pen and paper around with me. Well, at least I'll keep myself entertained with all the guessing as to what the hell I'm doing, no?) ;)

It's Officially Summer.

2005-06-21T13:34:00.000-05:00

How do I know, you ask? Well.....

Yes, it's June 21st - the summer solstice. But that's not how I know.

Yes, it's my parent's anniversary (HAPPY ANNIVERSARY MOM AND DAD! Thanks for getting married so you could then have me and I could then have the kick-ass life I've had). (My parent's anniversary, of course, doesn't really mean it's summer to anyone but me (and maybe them), but it's one of the ways I mark the start of summer.) But that's not how I know.

Yes, we haven't turned the heat on in over a week now, but that's now how I know. (And that's a true story - we had a freak day last week where the temp dropped over 30 degrees in a few hours and our windows had been open all day...creating a veritable ice box of an apartment, so we turned on the heat that night. Nothing like running the heat in June.)

I know it's summer because I went to a Jimmy Buffett concert last night.

Now, I own Jimmy's greatest hits album, and I enjoy his music, but I wouldn't call myself a Parrothead or anything. My friend Dave had an extra ticket and invited me to go, and I thought: Hey, why not?

WHAT A CONCERT. Seriously, unless Jimmy Buffett's voice grates on your soul and makes you vomit persistently for more than 6 hours, you really ought to do this at least once in your life. You don't have to be a fan to have fun. The whole concert is about fun! Jimmy played in his bare feet the whole concert. They put out beach balls in the seats before we got there to encourage the playful tossing of them amongst the stands. And if you just stand still, for just a second, and look around mid-song...you realize you're standing in the middle of literally THOUSANDS of happy people. You just can't be in a bad mood. And it is one hell of a way to kick off the summer, let me tell you. I feel summer in my bones now, even if it still gets into the 40s at night up here.

One of the coolest things Jimmy did all night was a a tribute to Johnny Carson. It was just the sweetest thing I've seen anyone do in a long time, and it gave me goosebumps. And then he had the band play "Why Don't We Get Drunk" (apparently one of Johnny's favorites even though it could never be played on the show) and had the crowd sing it. He didn't sing a word. Which was pretty cool.

There were also a surprising number of cover songs that Jimmy did. He covered Dave Matthews, James Taylor, Van Morrison, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, and Jack Johnson. what's cool about the last one is he is promoting someone who's still somewhat under the radar...someone who does Jimmy Buffett covers at his own concerts. I just think that's the pinnacle of modesty - there are many bands who do covers at concerts these days (in fact, most of them do at least one), but most of them cover someone "bigger" than them, or someone from a different musical generation. Jimmy Buffett just does covers of good music - screw it if it's someone less well-known or half his age.

In any case, I may be a converted Parrothead. Well...let's not take this too far. I'm not sure I'd be willing to wear a real coconut bra (as I saw on several women yesterday at the concert) or camp out all day and drink for 8 hours before the concert (yes, I'm getting old, I just can't handle that much drinking any more, I'd fall asleep at the concert). But I definitely didn't know all the songs he sang last night, and I enjoyed them all.

So, moral of the story?

It's summer. Go out and do something fun.

And happy anniversary to my parents.

My new celebrity best friend.

2005-06-14T14:19:00.000-05:00

First things first: my friend Art is spending his summer in Korea while completing an internship for law school there. His blog is pretty darn cool. Go check it out and get some culture. He seems to post regularly, so even when I don't, he can provide you with entertainment.

OK. I went to a child life conference this weekend in Nashville.

First thought to share: conferences suck. I mean, I definitely went to a few sessions where I came out fired up to go back to work and make stuff happen, and I learned a bit and networked a bit; but in the end, conferences are just work in a different setting. So I worked all weekend, and didn't get paid for it...in fact I paid to go. If this makes sense to anyone, let me know.

Next: well, it wouldn't be a story about me if the Krashworth persona didn't kick in, eh? Let me explain a bit about what I do, and then what I did.

I am a child life specialist. My whole job is to hang out with kids and families in hospitals or medical settings and reduce their stress. Sometimes this is accomplished through play, other times it's explaining things in kid-friendly terms (stitches is just a fancy doctor word for string), sometimes it's just listening or getting a cup of coffee. In any case, it's a great profession that's been around for more than 40 years now, but is only lately becoming more and more recognized. When the profession was originally started, we were known as the "playladies" (and often are still referred to as such, which I think is just fine with me...I don't mind people knowing that I get paid to play all day). Somewhere in the late 70's/early 80's there were a core group of people who got together, formed the Association for the Care of Children in Hospitals (ACCH) and named us as a group to be child life specialists. These people also did credible, published research, and wrote all the books I just spent two years in grad school studying. Because that was only 20 years ago, many of these child life "celebrities," if you will, are still around. One of them was my advisor until last year. Another child life celebrity has been my professor this past year. So you see how it is. I roll with the big guns. =)

Now, you may think I'm joking. I mean, every profession has its celebrities, right? But how big can these people be? Well...I'd liken them to Bill Gates - Gates took the computer world and made it accessible to everyone (no more needing to know specific commands and such, or spend money on a Mac), thus revolutionizing computers forever. Brought computers from one age to the next. (My computer geek friends will read this and be angry with me, as they are all anti-MS folk who love the life of Linux, but you have to face facts: Gates is a HUGE guy in the history of computers). These celebrities about which I speak - they revolutionized child life, and although it's not widely known now, it's getting bigger every day. I'd be willing to wager there's child life in every major children's hospital around the US, I know that it's an international profession, and we're now making strides in alternative settings like community hospitals and emergency rooms and outpatient clinics. Give it one more generation, and I see this as something everyone knows about.

In any case, I've been studying all of these books and articles by these child life celebrities again for the past month in preparation for my certification exam (which I took at the beginning of the conference). After the exam, there were a few conference sessions, a reception, and then Wheelock (where I went to grad school) had a private networking reception for alumni. Keep in mind one of the reasons I chose Wheelock is because it has been a crucial element of the development of child life as a clinically respected position, and it has educated most of the celebrities of which I spoke earlier.

So, for all the money I paid to Wheelock (or, more rightly, all the money Uncle Sam paid to Wheelock that I will now have to enter indentured servitude to repay Uncle Sam) you'd think the reception would be pretty swank, eh? HA! A few cookies, a few brownies, some soda. Not even cocktails - c'mon folks: it's FRIDAY NIGHT! In any case, I hung out with my classmates and chatted for a while, and then realized that I ought to make some new friends while at this conference, just because...well, I don't know, I guess because I should. I paid money to go, I should get more than the update on my classmates, with whom I try to keep in touch on a regular basis. So my friend Jen and I head over to a table with two women, one elderly, and one middle-aged, and a man at it (yes, there are men in child life. My advisor and my professor - aforementioned "celebs" are both men). As we sit down, the middle-aged woman looks at me and says, "Have we met? I feel like I've met you." I immediately go into my spiel about how I have one of those faces, that I get that all the time....I have the girl-next-door face so I look like someone everyone has either met or knows; but that I'm sure we hadn't met. So she smiles and reaches across the table, reads my nametag, and says, "Well, it's nice to meet you Kristy." I shake her hand and say, "Thanks, and what is your name?" (She had no nametag, in my defense.)

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Laura...[long pause]...Gaynard."

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I wish I had a picture of my face. This woman wrote the one book I had focused on for the past three weeks in my studies, she is one of the child life celebrities of which I spoke. She was at the conference to recieve the lifetime achievement award the next day. OY.

What's even better than this is I couldn't let go of her hand. I just kept holding on to it across the table as I apologized for not realizing...at which point she gracefully pointed out that I had indeed never met her and how would I know? (Of course, I had seen her picture earlier that day, but clearly I'm a dolt and didn't pay attention at the time.) In any case, we laughed over the whole affair, and I got to know her, her mother Betty (the elderly woman), and her brother Skip (the man). I then proceeded to introduce her to all of my classmates as "my best friend - we go WAY back - Laura" and we all had a good laugh. Turns out, just like my advisor and my professor, she's really nice, and she even tried to recruit me to come work in her program at Salt Lake City Hospital. I turned down her kind offer, but I did get a chance to see her throughout the rest of the conference, and we chatted here and there.

So in the end, I made a fairly significant connection at the conference after all. I just had to fumble my way through to get to it. =)

How the other half lives.

2005-06-14T14:05:00.000-05:00

Two Sundays ago I went to Martha's Vineyard.

AND Nantucket.

In the same day.

"How did you do this, oh masterful one?" You ask me. And to this I say to you: I have kickass friends.

Continuing to prove my point that I have the best friends on the planet, hands-down, my friend Steve, who got his pilot's licence in February, took me out on a lovely Massachusetts spring day in fine fashion to both the Vineyard and Nantucket. I've never been to either place, and I have to say that it felt pretty swanky to be visiting both in the same day. It's also pretty darn cool to watch Steve fly - there's so much that goes into it, and he's just fantastic at it. A few thoughts to share:

The airport on the Vineyard looks almost exactly like the airport on "Wings," at least on the outside. Steve and I had an argument while there about whether "Wings" was set on Nantucket or the Vineyard. I claim Nantucket, he claims Vineyard. Anyone with thoughts on this or the time to look this up (the girls I nanny for could wake up at any moment), feel free to comment. We only stayed at the airport at the Vineyard and had a nice soda while watching the planes come and go, enjoying the sun, and having lovely conversation.

We actually got to walk around Nantucket - took a cab downtown and browsed. It was late Sunday afternoon by then so a lot of the stores were closed, and we didn't bother going in places like "Cashmere City" since we figured we couldn't afford the wares, but it's a quaint little fun town. Steve had an ice cream and my lactose-intolerant/lactaid-forgetting self had a delicious cookie. Steve said he couldn't see staying there more than a day, I could see it as a quiet vacation destination for a week or so. Just reading books, laying out in the sun, sailing. Good stuff. Reminds me of the kind of place my parents would love to go, as it's kind of like where they vacation every year (and I used to vacation with them when I was in school) up in Maine, just more upscale. Anyway, in our walk we stumbled across the Club Car, which I took a picture of. I distinctly remember the skeevier brother on "Wings" (the one who dated girl after girl) discussing the Club Car as a good place to pick up women. This furthers my argument that it was set on Nantucket. In any case, it's kind of cool that they actually took local culture and worked it into the show.

There are people who do this kind of day-long excursion every weekend. There's even a sand landing strip on the Vineyard that ends right on a beach, so you park your plane, get out, and put your towel down and lay out. Crazy. I just can't even imagine. But for a day, I got a glimpse. It was loads of fun, but I have to say it wouldn't have been half as fun had I not had great company.

So, to sum up: Thanks Steve. You rule.

Oh, and go visit the Vineyard and Nantucket if you can. They're pretty fun.

FREE* Exciting Offer!

2005-06-04T12:09:00.000-05:00

*Offer not really free or exciting. Void where prohibited. Offer not valid on days that end in a y.

Almost two years ago, when I moved to Boston, I went to a bank (that shall remain unnamed) advertising “FREE* Checking!” They had both free student checking, and free* regular checking. After being introduced to the ageism of “student checking only covers people 25 and under” (because apparently after you’re 25 you’re too old to be a student anymore), I opted for the free* regular checking.

So I sit down with the woman to open the account, money in my hand. After all the usual rigamarole (social security number, date of birth, etc) she says, “OK, that’ll be $18.75 for your checks.” In my head I think, OK, checks cost money. That’s understandable. We continue. A few minutes later she says, “There will be a $12 annual fee for your ATM/check card.” Now I’m a little confused. This is not sounding like free checking. So I say to her, “Ummm…I thought I was getting the free checking.” “Of course you are!” she said. I then pointed out to her that $18.75 + $12 = NOT free. She then let me know that I didn’t have to get the ATM/check card or the checks.

Me: HOW DO I GET MONEY OUT OF MY ACCOUNT WHEN THE BANK IS CLOSED THEN?????

Her: {blank stare for 2 minutes}

Her: Uhhhh….well, there’s that little star next to the "Free*" to let you know there are some conditions to the checking account.

Me: So basically it’s not free checking, but because you put the star there you can lie.

Her: {blank stare, no answer}

Yeah, that’s what I thought. But at this point, I’m so far into it, and the bank is so convenient to where I live, that I’m just going to pay the fees and keep going. As I’m walking out, already signed up for accounts with this bank, I notice something on the materials they gave printed in teeny tiny print:

It costs me $0.50 every time I use the check card as a debit card. If I don’t run it as a credit card, it’ll cost me.

NOTHING about this account is free.

Yesterday, I set up an account with Bank of America. I have Free Checking (note no star). It actually costs $5.95 a year if you don’t have direct deposit, but they tell you that up front. Before you start into getting the account. And I wanted direct deposit anyway, so that’s all good. But guess what? My check card is FREE. I can use it as a debit card FOR FREE. My first set of checks (real checks, not starter checks) is FREE. No stars. I have free checking. Sweet.

Plus, they’re giving me a $50 Visa gift card for opening an account with them. AND I got a free pocket-sized Red Sox schedule on the way out the door (my wallet is naked without one during the season, and I haven’t been able to find any).

So, basically, this post is a completely unsolicited testimonial for Bank of America. Go bank there. They’re all over the place, so when you travel they’ll probably be wherever you go, too (no fees for using other ATMs), and they don’t lie. I’ve banked with them for a whole 24 hours now and I have absolutely ZERO complaints. Usually I don’t support large corporations if I can avoid it; but this is just great service, and I love to support great service.

And now I’m off* to deposit more money into my free checking account.

*Deposit will occur after I take a shower and run a few other errands.

Summer of Krash

2005-06-02T13:19:00.000-05:00

That's right. You read that right. This summer is MY summer. I have decided it, and thus it will be so.

How is it the summer of Krash, you ask? Lemme 'splain....

I'm into the full swing of "real life," if you can call it that. I woke up the other day and just realized it. See...when I was growing up, the plan I had for myself went as follows: high school, college, meet someone nice to marry in college, get a job by the end of college, graduate from college and move into house with new husband, have job and start popping out kids whenever we feel it's appropriate.

HA!

Not so much did it work out that way. Not that I'm dissappointed...quite the contrary: I've led a really charmed life. I did the first two on the list: high school, college. I met a few nice boys in college but none of the marrying sort at the time. Post-college I sort of had the not-sure-what-to-do-with-my-life era when I went and worked at DisneyWorld. And, for all that I used to complain about it, it was really fun. I had a great time, and it's always a fantastic conversation topic for parties and interviews. But at that point, there was no plan except to figure out the plan. And then I discovered child life and thought, "Hey, this is what I want to do! This should be the plan!" And so I worked in child life long enough to get a feel for it and made the plan, which turned out to be grad school. So I go to grad school in Boston, and the plan is now grad school and then find a job at the end of grad school. I also had a marrying man worked into the plan when I started grad school, but he is no longer in the plan. And I followed the plan well enough: here I am, just out of school, and I have a child life job.

So now what?

There's no more of the thought process of, "OK, get through this stage, and then there's something else to do, to progress the plan." I'm 28 (almost), and I'm finally partially at the original plan's destination (sans man, house, popping out kids).

Now, before I go ANY FURTHER, let me get a few things straight:

1. I'm glad to be (almost) 28. I'm excited about the prospect of leaving behind the years of insecurity and doubt and confusion that were my early to mid 20's. So I'm not complaining abou that.

2. I can't say it enough: I'm glad my life took the course it did. I've learned so much I wouldn't have learned, and met so many amazing people I wouldn't have met....I look back on the original plan and say, "Puh-SHAW!" That would not have been as satisfying as the life I've had; which is, I'm certain, why my life has gone down the path it has.

So here I am. 28, got a job, and no real "next step" plans like figuring stuff out or going to grad school or finding a job. This is it: the real world. Real life. WOW.

And I woke up the other day, and that all sort of hit me. Now that I'm in the real life, and I'm not worried about planning the next step, per se....I thought, what do I want from life? Because there's no reason I shouldn't have what I want out of life. [Sidebar: My parents did for me one of the most amazing things I've ever seen anyone do: they instilled in me the belief that I can have anything I want, I just have to be willing to work for it. And it becomes a balance: if you don't want to work for it enough (because some things require a lot of crappy work to get), then you don't really want it all that much either. It's such a great attitude, and it's gotten me tons of things I wouldn't have thought I could have had or done otherwise. Thanks, mom and dad. I owe you everything for that. ;) ] And I decided that what I want for my life, at this point, is the rest of the plan: I want the house and the man and the kids. I also want to feel better, look better, and just be the best me I can be.

So, some of these things are a bit easier to achieve than others. For example, I have more control over being the best me I can be than I do over making someone fall in love with me. But being the best me I can be will probably increase my chances on the love thing. So I'm starting with getting in shape. Consistently this time. Nothing overwhelming, just at the gym, three days a week, for 30 minutes. I can do that. I can eat healthier and do more fun things. So there's that. I'm doing that.

As far as the love thing goes...well...I have some thoughts. First of all, I'm big on the kids. I want kids. I want 3 or 4, even though Liz tells me I'm only allowed to have 2 (because it's bad for the earth - overpopulation and stuff; although she did acquiesce and say I could have Emily's 2 kids since she doesn't want any, and Emily said I could have her 2 kids, so in the end I guess nobody should object to my wanting 4, huh?). This is sort of where the "I can have what I want I just have to be willing to work for it" comes into play more. I'm 28, and I'd like to date someone for a while before getting married. And ideally I'd like to be married a bit before I start having kids. So start doing the math....and I'd like to be done having kids by my late-mid 30's (I don't know, 36? 37? whatever...)and in order to get what I want, I need to be ready and open for love.

Now, until about a year ago, I sort of turned my nose up at internet dating services. OK, I'll admit it, I *totally* turned my nose up at it. But over the past year, I've met so many people who are really in love, and they met through match.com, or eharmony, or yahoo personals....and I have to say I'm a little wary of the whole internet matching thing...because, REALLY anyone can make a profile that sounds however they want. It doesn't have to really be them. But, I mean, anyone can do that in a bar, too. They could lie and say they're a cop when they're really a bartender. (Note: neither is better or worse, just examples to illustrate a point.) In the end, if I want to wait around and just "meet" someone, it's going to be hard. I don't go out very much, and when I do it's with my friends, and when I go out with my friends I want to see my friends, since I don't see them enough as it is. So meeting people is not something that's likely to happen. Internet dating just adds more opportunity. I'm still open to meeting people in other ways, I'm just working harder to get to my goal.

But I'm still iffy on the whole thing. I haven't paid any fees, just put my profile out there. And I'm being really picky, probably over-picky, but this is where I'm at with working hard enough to get this. I'm getting in the pool, very very slowly, dipping my toe in and taking it out, then maybe getting my feet wet, and seeing how the water feels. I'll let you know how it goes. (And I invite any testimonials or horror stories on the topic you feel like sharing from your own experience or your friends' experiences.)

In the meantime, all of this is to say, it's the summer of Krash! I'm reaching out, grabbing life by the horns, and taking it as far as I possibly can. Lots of fun, lots of going out (with both friends and dates), and being the best me I can be. Now that I'm in the "real world," I'm going for the brass ring, baby. I want it all - so look out.

=)

Moving Sucks

2005-05-22T17:00:00.000-05:00

The end.

Fashionably Oblivious

2005-05-05T21:13:00.000-05:00

Those of you who know me know that I'm not one to be accused of being a fashionista. Not that I have a horrible sense of style, just that it's...well...a tad...safe (and maybe boring). My friend Corki calls certain shirts that Old Navy sells perennially "Kristy shirts," because they're solid colors, simple design (either round neck or v neck, short sleeve or long sleeve, simple hems), and I buy them in almost every color they sell. It's rare you'll see me wearing a pattern. I'm just a plain kinda girl...probably because I know I can't go wrong, and probably also because although I like shopping, I do have a limit...and I'm not patient enough to shop long enough to get enough clothes I need with patterns. You see, you have to really get the right pattern to look right on you. Not everyone looks great in stripes, or polka dots, or certain color combos. But I *know* that my pink, blue, yellow, and maroon long-sleeve round-neck shirts from Old Navy are going to look good on me. And they'll go with a few different things: my gray suit pants from Old Navy, my khakis from Old Navy, and my jeans from Old Navy. Seeing a trend here? Versatility is key.

In any case, the point of this whole thing is that I have a question. I keep seeing the Joss Stone Gap commercial all over TV (now that I have time to watch TV again). And my question is this:

Are white jeans back? Really? I mean, I knew that white was back...I've seen the all-white outfits, but I assumed they were linen or cotton or something. Are we really bringing back white jeans? And if we are, does that mean black jeans are back for winter? Somebody hook me up with the info, since we all know that I'm not the leading expert on what's hot.

Not that I'm going to buy white or black jeans, mind you. Just that I want to know.

Good Decision-Making 101

2005-05-03T21:44:00.000-05:00

So, since I'm ALL DONE with school (that's right, ALL DONE, no more papers or projects...just gotta walk across the stage and try very hard not to fall down), I'm trying to get to *the list* of things I've had to do for months now. Things like being a better friend (i.e., responding to phone calls, emails, actually getting out to see folks once in a while, etc.), doing much-needed laundry, doctor's appointments, and cleaning. Tonight's assignment was to finish my laundry and clean my room. You see, as the final month of school wore on and I worked on various projects, presentations, and papers, my room acquired several piles of paper and messes. And every time I would look at the hurricane-strewn debris that covered my room I promised myself that I'd clean it up when I was done with school. It's rather important, actually, since somewhere in the piles is the information I need to study for my certification exam, which is now 36 days away. Plus there's a whole 3-inch binder from last semester labelled "ORGANIZE ME! (in May)" that I need to take care of. And sometime soon I need to start packing, as I'm moving for the summer. Ugh.

And so, since I'm ALL DONE with school, I thought it might be a nice and fun idea to have a glass of red wine (Yellow Tail Shiraz - both affordable and tasty-smooth) in my soporifically warm apartment while I attacked my list. As it turns out, from this experience, I have a bit of advice on good decision-making for you, dear readers:

A glass of red wine is nice, but if you're already tired and in a very warm apartment, it might serve less to motivate you and more to draw you to bed. Or the TV. Or both. I'm just saying...

Anyway, the room is nowhere near clean. I've barely scratched the surface, in fact. But my new idea (most likely inspired by the Yellow Tail) is to go to bed at a reasonable hour (soon) and then get up at a reasonable hour to finish the task at hand, plus all the items allotted for tomorrow. Just a bit of planning tonight to get it all together, and I'm sure I can make this work. Well, that's of course assuming that I don't hit my snooze button for an hour before I realize my alarm clock is going off; which is a high possibility that I'm able to ignore thanks yet again to the miracle of the Yellow Tail. =) At least the laundry is done!

So what else is new? I went to a lovely dinner party with my egg-party friends the other night (see previous post: "I have funny friends"), and learned a FANTASTIC new game called Mafia. Keep in mind, now, that my enthusiasm for this game is likely due to the fact that I performed reasonably well in the second game, earning a few compliments from the boys around me. In any case, it's a difficult game to explain in person, and thus it would be even more difficult to type out the instructions, but if you're interested, let me know and I'll try to email you instructions. It's totally fantastic, and all about reading other people and using a pseudo-logic of figuring out what other people's actions and statements mean.

I had a dream the other night that I was pregnant. Let's start this discussion by stating that I don't always remember my dreams, in fact I probably only remember them about 25% of the time. This dream was pretty vivid, though. Everyone always says that dreams mean something else, and along those lines the pregnancy probably signifies my recent thoughts of starting a new life here in Boston with a new job here and such...but being almost 28 I can't help but feel a little of it was maybe my "biological clock" sending me a little hello. Not that I have the means to support a child right now...just that my insides were acknowledging my progress along the road of life. I'm fine with getting older, and I feel like there's plenty of time to have kids and do the whole marriage/house/grown-up thing; but I guess the whole graduation thing has made me a bit philisophical, as big life changes are wont to do. In any case, I'm NOT pregnant, so nobody freak out.

On the other hand, I *am* graduating on May 13 (that's right, Friday the 13th, my college apparently has some sort of sick twisted sense of humor), and anyone who wants to freak out about that (in a good way) is welcome to. My parents are coming to visit, as is my sister Laura, and it's going to be a rockin' good time.

And that's all I have to say about that.

You look like a monkey, and you smell like one too!

2005-04-27T22:09:00.000-05:00

I've recently been investigating the phenomenon where men and women differ on the issue of birthdays. To me, and most of my female friends, birthdays are HUGE! They're fun, we throw parties, and get all silly. Even if you don't want to celebrate getting older, your friends find a way to cajole you into celebrating and having fun. Men, on the other hand, seem to have no use for birthdays. They're "just another day," as I've heard put so many times.

Now, I have a friend, who shall remain nameless, who absolutely does everything within his power to hide his birthday from EVERYONE. The first year I knew him I was told it was his birthday, and...being a girl...I got all excited and planned some silliness with my co-workers involving us singing to him as he drove us around backstage Epcot. He was so mad he didn't speak to me for TWO WEEKS. You'd think this would deter me, but it didn't. I've made sure to find a way to recognize his birthday every year since...and here's why (for all you men who don't get why women love birthdays so much):

Birthdays, to me, are the day to celebrate the day you were born. It's not about getting older, it's about getting excited that you got the chance to come into this world and live the life you're living. And to me, because you were born on that day, and your life has unfolded as it has, we've gotten to be friends. So I'm really thankful for your birthday, because I'm really happy we're friends. What it comes down to is this:

YOUR BIRTHDAY IS A BIG DEAL TO ME BECAUSE YOU ARE A BIG DEAL TO ME.

To me, your birthday is a great day to take time and really celebrate YOU, celebrate all you are, all you're going to be, and all that you've brought to my life thus far. I'm sorry if you don't like that you're a big deal to me. That's how it is...I'm a girl...and I'm going to continue to pester you about your birthday. Learn to love it or at least get over it.

=)

Anyway, all you male-folk...there it is: my reason for being all "girly" about birthdays and making a big deal out of them. Do with it what you will. And, may I say, the above explanation was not directed at any particular "you"....fear not, oh friend who hates and hides his birthday....it was directed at the vast number of "yous" in my life who still don't understand why birthdays are a big deal. And it's all meant in good fun, OK?

In the meantime, I'll take this time to say Happy Birthday to any and all friends I have who might have a birthday today (yes, there's more than one). Oh! And the ones who have a birthday tomorrow (just one), since it's almost midnight. Happy Birthday!

And now I'll return to my constant schedule of taking sinus meds, coughing fits, ODing on cough drops, and drinking tons of water. Ah, spring. I whined and whined for it to come, and now it's here and I have bug bites and sinus issues. The grass is always greener...eh? Well, at least right now the grass is certainly greener than it has been; and that's something to be happy about. That, and the wonderful birthdays of some phenomenal friends. =)

Two more days until I'm done with all the grad school crap!

music: Indigo Girls medley from all their albums put on one playlist on random on my Itunes.

Win some, lose some....

2005-04-20T18:19:00.000-05:00

OK. So I didn't win pope. On the plus side, I got a free apple-y-ever-after ice cream cone from Ben and Jerry's free cone day yesterday...and in my mind the two kind of equal out. Besides, they're talking about this guy as a "transitional" pope...I mean, let's be real: the man's 78. Not a lot of mileage left on that pope, let me tell YOU. Maybe they're just waiting for me to finish grad school. Fear not, O Catholics! I graduate May 13!

In the meantime, the new issue should be my pope name. Apparently you have to change your name. I've been perusing a list of papal names already used, and I've got some ideas. First of all, besides John Paul I in 1978 (who, might I add, lasted less than a year), we haven't had a "Pope

I" since the 121st pope - Pope Lando from 913-14. I gotta say, we haven't had a Lando since, and it's a damn fine name. Reminds me of Lando Calrisian in Star Wars. How can you go wrong with a pope who pays homage to Star Wars? So maybe I'll choose something new, especially since I'll be the first girl, I should probably have a completely new name.

Second, it seems some of the popes get the word "Blessed" before their name (e.g. Blessed Urban V, 1362-70). I'm wondering if this is a chosen thing, or if it's added posthumously. Because if you get to choose, then I'd like some sort of modifier before my pope name. Like, Funny. Because I'm funny. And since I'm a co-founder of the We Know We're Funny Club, perhaps I should acknowledge this talent in my papal name.

So there you have it...Pope Funny Krashworth I. Note that I used the "I" to indicate that I expect future popes to love my name so much and respect my papacy so much that they pay homage to my legacy and use my name, creating a need for the I versus all the others. Well, it's working title at least. I may change my mind. But it's a start!

Life is easing up, so hopefully the blogs will be more frequent. I may go through a period of laziness, where I take some long-overdue time to just relax, but I'll try to be mindful about this. In the meantime, hope all is well with you out there in Kristy-for-Pope land! Keep up the support!

I have funny friends.

2005-04-14T22:15:00.000-05:00

Weird friends, mind you, but funny friends nonetheless.

There's a group of folks up here I like to hang out with when I have free time (read: once every few months - although hopefully that will increase soon as I transition from the student world to the world of paying off student debt, a.k.a. the job world). How I met these people is neither here nor there, really, just know that they're all wicked smaht and a lot of fun.

They like to throw random parties and send out random emails here and there, and since I don't have time for a real blog post (yup, still hosed) I thought I'd get a laugh for you from their sordid history.

Follow the link at the end of this paragraph (I promise it's not porn). Read the whole thing, then come back and hear the story. OK, go.

So, these boys were throwing a party. In all reality, it was just a party for them and their friends...nothing special, and NO THEME. So they sent out an email, the transcript of which is in the above link. Now, these are silly boys, keep in mind, so they like to make things interesting, which is why the party invite is so bizarre. But it was all just for laughs.

However, they also decided to try something that I find a fascinating experiment. They put the website of the above link on a dozen eggs, and then went into several grocery stores and replaced one normal egg in a few cartons with an egg marked with the invite website.

Here's what's great: people showed up from the eggs. I mean, I guess I would expect it...the world's a crazy place, but if I found a website on my egg, I'd probably check it out, and then throw out the egg, but not go to the party. Anyway, random people showed up, a fair number (more than the number of strategically-placed eggs; indicating that the egg-folk passed the website along), and the best part is this: they expected a gay sex party. Which, I guess...seeing as how the webvite denies that it is a gay sex party so many times that it might seem like it really was...the whole "methinks the lady doth protest too much" sort of thing....but still.....

Anyway, I'm usually laughing too hard at the fact that not only did my friends think this up, but they carried it out and it worked to listen to what they did with all their random egg-folk. Most likely they kindly explained the joke and invited them in for beer, but no gay sex. In any case, these people are just one of the many reasons I want to stay here in Boston. Yes, people are crazy here, but somehow that makes me feel normal. I fit in. (insert ear-to-ear grin here)

If you've got crazy friends too (and you probably do, since most of my readers are already my friends)...and have crazy stories to share...send 'em in the comments, and then readers can enjoy them too while I continue my pseudo-sabbatical.

In the meantime, I'm headed to a Sox game tomorrow night. Fenway franks and overpriced beer, HERE I COME!

Adam Aaronson is a Pinnacle of Manliness

2005-04-05T17:11:00.000-05:00

Hey folks.

The good news is: the long-overdue post is here!

The bad news is: it's gonna be short and probably not very sweet. Sorry....

A few things:

title of this blog brought to you by Adam, who was sweet enough to write me and let me know he still checks this and has noticed my slack in posting (thus earning the right to a lovely tribute in the title). He may not have necessarily enjoyed my blog and instead needed something to do to kill time at his mind-numbing job, but it's nice to know people notice when you go away. =)

I've been MIA thanks to the demon from the lowest ring of hell known as grad school. I'm just hella busy, y'all. Those of you who know me know that I'm always busy. You know how I roll. It's just been exponentially bad as of late, with impending graduation, final projects, presenting at a conference, and the job search. I've all but given up on being a good friend, replying to emails, or blogging (clearly). I'll be back, though. Don't you worry your pretty little heads. Just, for now, I'm going to need a little more patience.

In the meantime, if you'd like something snarky, leftist, and funny to read, check out this blog. I read it daily if I can, and it cracks me up every time.

GO SOX. (Yeah, I know, they've lost the first two. I don't care. Well, I do, but the point is, I still love them and root for them, and you should too.)

And that's all I got for ya, folks. Or, that's all the time I have for you at least. Gotta get back to the crazy list o' stuff to do. Keep it real....

Top 10 Reasons Why I Should Be The Next Pope

2005-03-17T00:19:00.000-05:00

Yeah, you read the title right. (These are in no particular order, except for the fact that perhaps #1 is really the #1 reason...)

10. I took AP Latin in high school and got an A, as well as a 5 on the exam. At the time, I could sight-read Cicero and other crazy old Latin-speaking coots. So I've got the Latin skillz.

9. I'm not afraid to look silly in the hat.

8. I will institute a policy of British Accent Fridays in the Catholic church...in that every Catholic person will speak in a British accent on Fridays (except those who naturally have a British or similar-sounding accent, who will then participate in Alternative British Accent Fridays, better known as Snarky French Accent Fridays). How much fun will this be?

7. I will let all Catholics give up guilt for Lent.

6. I promise to get a flu shot every year, so there will be no worries about me being in the hospital for weeks on end due to the flu.

5. I'm going to create a Vice-Pope position, so that in case something should happen to me, or if I need a vacation, there's still someone to help keep the church running smoothly.

4. I played Friar Tuck at Walt Disney World several times. I have experience being a member of the clergy, as well as blessing people!

3. I will get the Pope-mobile on "Pimp My Ride."

2. I will offer up a dessert buffet for holy communion instead of those tasteless crackers. The wine will remain, but there will be a wider selection.

1. It's clear to me that God has finally come around and become a Red Sox fan...as evidenced by hell freezing over last year and the Sox finally winning the World Series. I, too, have come around to be a Sox fan recently, and I think God and I can really get along because of this. This is an important issue on which both the Pope and God need to agree, and I'm down with the G-O-D on this one.

Now, some of you who know me might be thinking...But Kristy, you're not Catholic! Or perhaps you're thinking, Kristy, you're a woman, and Catholics don't allow women in the hierarchy of priest-folk! You might even be thinking, Won't this put a kink in your whole "finding someone to make out with for the rest of winter" theory...what with the Pope being celibate and all?

To all of these questions I say, DETAILS! Minor, minor details. The whole not Catholic thing is easily modified by taking a class, doing some sort of oath/ceremony thing in front of a congregation, and eating that tasteless wafer stuff with wine. If I can get over that part, the rest shouldn't be hard either. And once I'm Pope, it'll be a lot easier to make the changes I need to continue my "make out for the rest of winter" plan. Besides, I have a great campaign platform...just look again at my Top 10 - who WOULDN'T want me as Pope?

<insert cheesy-little-kid-ear-to-ear-grin here>

Here's to your health! (In a way you never expected...)

2005-03-14T06:06:00.000-05:00

Oh, it's *such* inappropriate timing to post this now, but I'm going to anyway....

Hey folks! It's been a while, no? My deepest apologies, I've been sucked into the black hole that is known as grad school. To be honest, the only reason I'm able to post today is because I got up early to work out and the little workout center in my apartment complex is closed. And so I have decided to follow the adage of, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade!" and post before getting ready for my internship. Whether or not you find this lemonade 'tasty' is a whole different question...let's see if I can be coherent at 6 am, shall we? :)

I have been developing a theory over the past few weeks which finally evolved last night into something big enough for a post (I hope). For those of you not in the Boston area, winter still has a firm grip on our weather, and it may or may not let up soon. The rest of you see this time of year as the time of hope - those days when it gets warmer are harbingers of happiness: spring is on its way! Not so much here in The Hub. Those days when it gets warmer are just a tease...cold rain instead of snow is not an omen that spring is coming, but instead they are a rouse to get your hopes up only to smash them into tiny pieces again when it snows sometime in early April. I'm starting to understand why New Englanders are somewhat surly...I mean, if I'm going to suffer through cold rain (and believe me, I'd rather it snow than have cold rain, at least snow is pretty) I want warm weather and flowers at the end of it, not more biting winds and snow.

So as you can see, this weather has affected my normally silly and humorous outlook on life. There's actually a psychological disorder for this mild form of depression: it's called Seasonal Affective Disorder (proving that psychiatrists everywhere do indeed have a sense of humor, since you can abbreviate this to SAD). I've recently been trying to think of ways to fight this moodiness (what my friend Bonnie and I like to call "the poopies" - when you're in a poopy mood for no apparently good reason)...and thus my theory began to take shape:

I think I need someone to make out with for the rest of winter.

That's right, you heard me. And here's why: research shows that sexual acitvity releases endorphins, which can create a natural euphoric effect. Yeah, sure, I could run a billion miles and get a runner's high...oh wait, except it's TOO COLD outside to do that, and besides I have arthritis and that wouldn't be good for me. Or I could lay out and get some sun - that's another way to get some natural endorphins...oh wait, except it's WINTER and the sun refuses to shine for more than 15 minutes at a time, and when it does shine it's negative one billion degrees outside. Making out is just the right thing: simple, natural, and fun.

But the best part of this theory is that there are other benefits! I'm fairly sure that one way I've been trying to get some endorphins is by stuffing my face full of every bit of food I can get my hands on, especially chocolate (which also releases endorphins, in case you don't feel like finding someone to make out with). Now, those of you who know me know that I'm already naturally a human garbage disposal: I'm hungry ALL the time, and even when I'm not I can still eat for some weird reason. I crave food even when I'm full. But my ingestion activity has at least doubled since january, and I'm fairly sure it's due to the fact that it's winter, and because I might be replacing a need to make out with food. So, if I find someone to make out with, I get the endorphins PLUS I no longer need to use food to replace the desire to make out with someone PLUS when I make out with someone my heart beats a little faster; ERGO I would be healthier.

And there's more! No, you say, Kristy, there can't be more! This is already too good to be true! But I say to you, YES! THE BENEFITS CONTINUE! Per my friend Lizzy, kissing causes your mouth to release extra saliva, which then washes bacteria off your teeth and prevents cavities. Who needs to brush after every meal when you have someone to kiss instead? I think we can all agree that kissing is much more fun than brushing your teeth. So on top of the added weight and mental health benefits, making out is good for your dental health as well!

And there you have it, folks.

As a final note, I'd like to give a big shout out to my friend Michelle, who ran around with me yesterday and provided me with sparkling conversation and wonderful company while I did my errands. You know it's a good friend who is willing to tag along just to be your company while you run errands. Much love, Michelle! =)

Score? XX 1, XY 0!

2005-02-28T22:44:00.000-05:00

Holy smokes it's blizzarding outside! Or, I guess, it's nor'eastering outside. Either way, the snow is blowing sideways outside my window and it's a little crazy. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but alas I am not. I think I will always be amazed at how much it snows up here. It's just unnatural.

But speaking of snow, let me get going on today's topic:

I have long lamented the fact that it would be difficult for me to write my name in the snow with pee. (Yes, I have friends who point out it is in fact possible, it would just involve an amazing amount of self-control and be really, really difficult. But possible, yes.) I've also long lamented the (related) fact that it's not an easy task for me to pee standing up. So I do have moments where I prove Freud right, and I have a little bit of penis envy, I suppose. (Sorry mom, I bet you're wincing right now.)

But I was reminded this past weekend why it's SO MUCH FUN to be a girl, and it is moments like these that make peeing my name in the snow seems insignificant. Here's the story:

My friend Sarah (who kindly gave me permission to use her name in this story) and my friend Brianna came over Friday night to eat yummy food and watch "Garden State." (Sidebar: if you haven't seen this movie, DO SO IMMEDIATELY. You can borrow it from me if you're in the Boston area and leave a nonessential organ at my house in exchange to make sure you return it. Also check out Zach Braff's - writer, director, star of the movie - blog on the website. Freakin' hysterical. End shameless unsolicited promo.) Afterwards we got to girl talk, as we are wont to do, and we began to discuss Sarah's potential romantic rendezvous approaching this upcoming weekend. She's headed to Minnesota (which is where she's from so it's not as sad as you might originally think...although I can't imagine leaving Boston mid-winter only to go someplace colder and snowier) to see a *boy* she's been in touch with via phone and email for several months now. They've developed a pretty tight relationship...added to the fact that their families know each other quite well so there's that added layer of trust there. She'll be staying at his house for a weekend, and although we're not sure where she'll be sleeping as yet, we do know this one fact (and all you ladies out there will back me up I'm sure):

Her pajamas are the most important articles of clothing she'll pack.

Even if she's sleeping on the couch, she's got a big crush on this guy, and she'll want to look cute at sleepy-time. So we spent over an hour online searching for cute pajamas and weighing all the options - cropped with a tank top might be really cute, but far too chilly for Minnesota. But if you add cute ankle socks and a zippered hoodie it could be functional and cute. There were pajamas that were pre-wrinkled as a style, and we discussed how that could be good for when she wakes up in the morning...she won't look dishevelled because they're supposed to be wrinkled. We even thought of the fact that if she bought the pj's from Victoria's Secret she could also buy matching underwear, which would be the ultimate in bedtime cuteness.

Now, the reality of things is this: he probably won't notice if her underwear matches her pj's (if he gets to see them at all). But she'll feel better knowing that they all match, and that she looks cute. It's one of the really cool things about being a girl...we're easily pleased by such things, and we relish in sharing this with each other because it's so silly. I once spent 45 minutes deciding which pajama outfit looked cutest to go to a boy's house to study. Just study, mind you, but I also liked this boy and wanted to look casually cute. No lie - 45 minutes in front of the mirror trying on very very casual clothes, saying things like, "Nope. Not cute enough."

I understand that all you men out there are just shaking your head as you hold it in your hands. But all you women are totally enjoying this. And THAT'S why I'm proud to have two X chromosomes, even if I can't easily pee my name in the snow. There's a feeling of solidarity in our silliness that is just comforting and carries with it a sense of joy in being a girl. It's also why so many women love "Sex and the City" - it makes you feel OK about being a girl and being silly about things like matching pajamas and underwear. Yes, we're neurotic. Yes, we're picky about silly things. And it's freakin' FANTASTIC.

And SO much fun.

music: a somewhat scary mix of "girl power" music from my Itunes stash...including: Just Like a Pill (Pink), Me and Bobby McGee (Janis Joplin), Proud Mary (Tina Turner), Last Thing (Diana Anaid), Since U Been Gone (Kelly Clarkson), Milkshake (Kelis), Lady (Lenny Kravitz - the lone man to make it on the list), and Girl from the Gutter (orig. by Kina, as performed by the USC Sirens). There was more on the list, but I typed too fast to get to it all.

Don't it make your brown eyes blue?

2005-02-22T20:10:00.000-05:00

I was a member of a selection committee for a faculty award at Wheelock last year. Each faculty member nominated had to submit two student letters of recommendation and one peer recommendation, as well as write an essay on teaching. One of the essays we read (the winner, I believe) talked about how teaching has allowed her to see the world with "new eyes." Not only has she had to adjust her perspective on teaching in order to reach students with widely varying learning styles, but she's also seen the world through her students' eyes and gotten new perspectives from them as well. She took yet another look at things familiar to her, but tried to see them in a different way. I have to admit that when I read the essay, I thought it a bit trite - "Yeah, new eyes," I thought, "doesn't everyone get a new way of looking at things each day?" The truth is this: yes, probably everyone has the opportunity to see the world from a different angle every day, but many of us ignore it, or just turn down the opportunity in favor of the easy road: maintaining the status quo and not challenging yourself. I do it all the time. This teacher was thankful for her 'new eyes' every day, and took situations that could otherwise be considered losses and looked at them in a new perspective in order to find a way to gain from them. It's a simple lesson we've all heard a million times: when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. But this professor actually lived that philosophy on a daily basis.

Since that experience on the awards committee, the 'new eyes' metaphor has stuck with me. I had the priceless opportunity to visit Japan for a week last summer, and I was given a whole new way of looking at the familiar by going there. Granted, the easy way to think about a trip like that is to point out the differences...but I was struck by the similarities I found as well. It made me smile to see Nissans, Hondas, and Toyotas all over the road (even though most of them are shaped differently). Sitting on a train where I was the only gaigene (foreigner), I was able to really pay attention to people's facial expressions and hand gestures as they spoke, since I wasn't distracted by their words. There are some things that are universal: rolling your eyes, throwing up your hands as you laugh...and while we're all different colors and religions and nationalities, if you take time to really observe, we really are all just one big human race.

Last week after talking to my doctor, I thought about the new eyes I got around this time a year ago. Those eyes were painful to earn - I endured a pretty life-shattering breakup, only to learn in the end that love is all around you, it's just that sometimes you have to look with a different filter to see it. I spent weeks feeling miserable and alone because I thought I had lost love in my life, only to finally figure out that what had kept me safe that whole time was the blanket of love my friends and family had wrapped around me. And as I spent time babysitting for the twins I babysat for during that time (who were just over a year old then), I marveled at the unconditional love they offered me every day as I walked in the door. Their giggles and their hugs made the rest of my world seem so far away, like magic. It's a powerful thing, love. But sometimes you have to find a new way of seeing things to realize it's never farther than the hand you reach out to grab for it.

Finally, I found myself thinking about new eyes again yesterday as I sat in the opthamalogist's office. Did you know that green eyes are the most sensitive to light, followed by blue, and then brown? The darker your eyes are pigmented, the less sensitive they are to light. This means that I could walk outside on a day like yesterday in Boston: snowy and gray, and find it dark and drab; while the man next to me with green eyes might find it a bit brighter. Same scene, different eyes. That kind of stuff fascinates me.

It's not easy to try to find a pair of new eyes every day, and I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I do it all the time. But I decided this morning that I'm going to try really hard to at least take advantage of the opportunities offered me to see things in a different light. I've found in the past few weeks at my internship that patients and parents alike have given me new perspectives on my job, and how to present ideas to different people...and I'm greatful that I have to keep a journal each day because it offers me the time to reflect and realize the things I've learned that day...something I might not consciously do otherwise.

This morning I was offered some new eyes, and I took the lesson given to me. I woke up early to exercise like the dutiful patient I am, only to get across my apartment complex and find that the fitness center was closed today. Rather than be irritated at having gotten up early for nothing, I returned to my apartment determined to catch up on email (I'm seriously behind). Unfortunately, my internet was not working for some strange reason. I then decided to work on my resume, as I'm sending out copies (hopefully) by the end of the week. However, I couldn't get my mind to work that early in the morning, and was unable to cleverly describe my current internship in a way that would make anyone looking at my resume want to hire me. So I gave up and decided I could catch up on what's been going on in the world by watching the news (I took a little hiatus from the world this weekend, it was fantastic, I highly recommend such an activity to everyone). Guess what? Cable was out. This day was really starting to be one of those days that you feel you should just call into work, because everything was going wrong, and it didn't seem to be getting any better. At that point of desperation, I decided the best way to get new eyes was to simply close them for a while and go back to sleep, even if only for a few minutes, and when I awoke again it would be an entirely new start to the day. And you know what? From the moment I got up the second time, things went completely smoothly today.

And so, after all this philosophy, what's the moral of the story? It's always a good idea to go back to bed and sleep some more. =)

Mmmm mm! Mm-mm? Mm mm-mm mmm!

2005-02-20T22:41:00.000-05:00

Translation? Help me! Hello? I'm under here!

I've been buried under a mountain of work all day, and I won't even begin to dig myself out until the end of tomorrow, it seems. It's not all bad, I mean I'm getting stuff done: taxes, planning for projects and trips, paying bills, etc; but sometimes it's a little overwhelming when you start the day with a page full of things to be done, and at the end of a day of accomplishing things on that list you re-write the list only to find you still have a page full of things to do. How does this happen, you ask? Well, sometimes it's a matter of doing one thing that reminds you of two other things that you need to do, sometimes it's a matter of unfortunate timing when several people ask you for something at once, and sometimes it is just bigger handwriting on the second list. =)

But I'm doing alright, folks, just busy busy busy. My internship at MGH is going really well...hard to believe in two weeks I'll be half done and switching floors. I'm learning such an incredible amount, while also gaining tons of confidence in my skills as a future Child Life Specialist. When it comes down to it, I'm glad to have the student experience, but I have to remember that there's no way to learn everything I'd need to know in any situation...and that there will be a lot of on-the-job learning when I get started out in the "real world." But that's what makes it fun...learning something new all the time. I have to say, if I didn't learn new things all the time, I'd be pretty bored, and then you can only imagine how long I'd make the lists of things to do...not good! Thank goodness for life's little intricacies that teach me new things to focus on so I don't stress myself too much by focusing on insignificant minutia that ought to be done.

Let me take care of some business here: go read my friend Chebra's blog. Chebra's brilliant, and not only are her blogs high-quality, but they all begin with fantastic quotes. She's new to the blog world, but she clearly fits right in. Welcome, Chebra!

So Emily wrote me a few weeks ago and asked a very good question: why is it that nobody has a favorite/lucky letter? Everyone has a favorite color, or number (blue, 7 in my case), but nobody ever talks about their favorite letter. Emily has chosen the letter P as her favorite. I must admit, it's a good choice...P is the beginning of her last name, p is for Psoriasis and Pneumonia and Pterodactyl. Lost of fun words can be spelled with P, and it is surprisingly silent sometimes. Good choice Emily!

My choice, after only a bit of thought, is the letter M, and here's why: M to me represents comfort. It's a soft-sounding letter, and you can use it to express yourself without even forming words. You can use it to say yes or no (Mmmm-mm), to express the deliciousness of a meal (Mmmmm!), or to sigh when something is so romantic or sweet or touching that there are no words (Mmmmm.....). It's a comforting stop in the middle of many words, and it's the beginning of some of my favorite foods: Mac and Cheese, Mashed Potatoes, and Marshmallows. So, ladies and gents, I give you the letter M, my current favorite.

I suggest you pick a letter soon before everyone does, and certain letters are super-popular, and then you can't pick them because you'd look like some sort of lemming, even if they have a sentimental value for you. Simply the fact that Emily and I are suggesting it means that it will soon take off and be bigger than slap-bracelets were when I was in middle school.

In the meantime, I'll be digging my way out of the pile o' stuff to do...and thinking of clever things with which to entertain y'all when I next post.

music: Itunes medley. "Maybe I'm Amazed" (Jem), "Curve of the Earth" and "I Saw" (Matt Nathanson), "32 Flavors" (Alana Davis), "Long Wide Open" (Ryanhood), and "Girl from the Gutter" (orig. by Kina, performed by USC Sirens).

QUOTE OF THE YEAR

2005-02-10T22:49:00.000-05:00

Shamefully, the quote comes from the OC, to which I've sadly become addicted. But peep this:

"I'm fine...I'm just having an allergic reaction to...the universe."

Ah, BRILLIANT! Seriously, haven't we all felt that way sometime? Brilliant.

Alright, I've been wicked busy, and it hasn't let up quite yet, but I'll post quickly on the things I've been keeping in the back of my head for you the past week or so.

First: The Pope had the flu. REALLY?!?!? Of all the people I would consider eligible for the first round of flu shots, the Pope tops the list. How in the world did he not get a flu shot? Did he deny it? Did he say something like, "Don't worry, God's got my back. I'm the Pope!" And why aren't people questioning this more? Why is it just me? If I were Catholic (which I'm not), and especially if I were tithing (which I couldn't, as I have no income to speak of), I'd write on the little envelope they give you for your offering money that I wanted it to go to the Pope Flu Shot Fund.

Second: Groundhog Day. Can we talk about this for a bit? This whole thing reeks of an Eisner-created Disney scam. And I quote:

There has only been one Punxsutawney Phil. He has been making predictions for over 119 years!

Punxsutawney Phil gets his longevity from drinking "groundhog punch," a secret recipe. Phil takes one sip every summer at the Groundhog Picnic and it magically gives him seven more years of life.

According to legend, if Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow, there will be six more weeks of winter weather. If he does not see his shadow, there will be an early spring.

No! Phil's forecasts are not made in advance by the Inner Circle. After Phil emerges from his burrow on February 2, he speaks to the Groundhog Club president in "Groundhogese"(a language only understood by the current president of the Inner Circle). His proclamation is then translated for the world.

So the story goes, Punxsutawney Phil was named after King Phillip. Prior to being called Phil, he was called Br'er Groundhog.

AHA! The last one proves it. Br'er Groundhog. I bet if you ride Splash Mountain enough times you'll find hidden Punxsutawney Phils all over the place! And there's more to the silliness: I'd like to say that if you announced in Boston on February 2nd that there were six more weeks of winter, the city would be in riots of joy that far surpassed the crowds that flooded the streets after the Red Sox World Series win last year. ONLY six more weeks of winter? Really? You promise? Thank goodness! The whole thing is a hoax, and it's not even a remotely believeable hoax (c'mon....the original Phil is pushing up daisies somewhere and this year's guy is someone they rounded up at the last second whose real name is probably Barney or Eunice and just gave the "stage name" of Phil to), and yet it makes the news every year. It's not even a charming tradition! It just makes us look even more ignorant in the eyes of the rest of the world - can you imagine what they think when they see that we are predicting the weather with a groundhog???

I suppose I shouldn't complain...at least it's positive news that they're putting on the news instead of all the death and dying and war and violence we usually show. It's a nice, peaceful story. And the whole six more weeks of winter thing...well...that's just the girl in me who's dying to see the sun again. It's that spirit-breaking time of winter when you're just ready for a sunny warm day, just one, to restore your spirits. Unfortunately, you only realize this when you find yourself exclaiming things like "The temps were in the upper 30's all week! It was soooo warm!" These sorts of statements promptly force you to realize the desperate nature of your need for a sunny day to help you make it through the six plus weeks of winter left before Spring even begins to think about poking its head around the corner. Ahhh...Boston. Not for everyone.

But I will survive, folks. Pitchers and catchers report in less than a week. There is something to live for after all.

I think I need a helmet. Or a beer. Or a beer helmet.

2005-02-03T22:49:00.000-05:00

Seriously, folks.

I have this class on Thursdays where we discuss healthcare issues on the larger scale, and for the past few weeks we've been discussing the insurance system and who gets healthcare and how, and tonight we also discussed the ramifications of privatizing health care. It's really interesting stuff, but it's also really frustrating because you leave the class thinking: man, the world really really sucks and there's no good way to fix it. There's so much injustice, it just blows my mind.

Now, for someone who is usually pretty happy-go-lucky and tries to avoid the news because she enjoys the bliss of ignorance, I've been fairly preoccupied the past few weeks with things like poverty, health care, social security, gun control, and how to raise our children better. Basically, in the past few weeks, I've been thinking about how to change the world. It's a little bizarre for me to be so fixated on it, but I have definitely found myself thinking about these topics a great deal. But for me, a what-you-see-is-what-you-get, heart-on-my-sleeve, bring-it-on kind of girl...well, I want to make everything OK. And I can't, and it has been weighing heavily on me lately.

I was discussing it with Brianna tonight, and there are two ways to approach social change...wait, OK. Let me back up. We were concerned about the idea of privatizing health care (and social security, for that matter, but health care was foremost on our minds since that is our line of work and the main topic for our class we just had) and how we could fight against it. I told her that I had lost hope, mainly because I felt that so many people tried so hard last November to cause a change in our government to prevent these kinds of plans being brought up in the first place, and we still failed. Now here's where the two mindsets come in: the first is to say, well, we tried our best and it didn't work, there's clearly nothing we can do. The second is to say, look how hard we tried, and we did make a change - more people came out and voted than ever before, and more people were aware of the importance of how much a vote counts, and even though we didn't get what we wanted, we did cause change, and we have to take that attitude and keep trying...harder if we have to...and we'll continue to make steps until we do make the change we want. Losing some battles, but eventually winning the war. Right now, and for the past few weeks, it just seems so hard that I've been of the first mindset. But I'm going to try really hard to be of the second mindset, because I'm a big believer in the idea that if you're going to complain about something, you also have to be doing something about it or you can't complain in the first place. Besides, health care is something near and dear to my heart, not only because of my job but also because of the whole arthritis thing, and so this issue matters A WHOLE HECK OF A LOT to me. So here I am, as I'm typing this blog, changing my attitude. Yeah, it's frustrating that there are no easy answers, and I'm not saying that if we don't privatize health care everything is going to be perfect, or that I have the way to make it perfect. I don't. But in my humble opinion, it's a bad idea, and nothing good can really come of it, and I'll fight to prevent the bad from happening. At this point, status quo is not great, but it's better than getting worse, you know?

I have a wise friend who once said something to the effect of, "Life is tough. Deal with it, or get a helmet." The quote was in the context of a conversation we were having about his classmates at his fancy-schmancy, high-power, high-pressure school, and how they took some things way too seriously. He said he wanted to buy them helmets, because if they got that uptight about the little stuff, life was just going to hit them upside the head and knock them out. In class tonight, I asked the professor if we could bring in beer next week if our classes were going to continue like this, because it was really hard for me to leave every Thursday feeling so discouraged, and the beer might take the edge off the class. Tonight as I was leaving, I thought of my friend, because I really felt like a helmet might make me feel better, because life is so complicated and it distressed me so much.

Now that I think of it, I think I'll just combine the two. Next week I'll show up to class with one of those helmets that holds beer cans with tubing that runs to your mouth so you can drink and not have to hold your beer in your hands. That way I know I'll be safe. =) And in the meantime I'll be gearing myself up to do what I can to change the world. Little old me versus the world. BRING IT.

The FIVE Stooges???

2005-02-02T07:24:00.000-05:00

So we all know there were more than three stooges. Larry, Moe, Curly, and Shemp (or, this is my understanding of the situation). But I think, perhaps, I was born at the wrong time. Or I am one of these gentlemen reincarnated. Seriously, I belong with them...although they were acting, and I am a natural stooge.

That's right folks, the superhero power of the klutziness continues. Yesterday was a fine example of my prowess: first, I hit my my elbow three times on the workout machine. You'd think after the first time I'd learn not to put my elbow there, or at least after the second time, but no...apparently the third time is the charm. Who hits their elbow on a workout machine? Only someone with great powers could manage to beat themselves up while working out. Next, I was talking to a patient in their room at the hospital, and I was leaning against a wardrobe while discussing our afternoon activity. I went to move my head as a means of emphasis for what I was saying, and slammed my head into the corner of the wardrobe. Well done, Ashworth. Way to maintain a profile of professionalism. As if that wasn't enough...five minutes later I was in the playroom discussing my wardrobe calamity with the girls in there, and at the same time I was rummaging in the supply closet for a glue gun. Somewhere along the way, I forgot what I was doing, or went blind, or something, because as I was telling the story about hitting my head on the wardrobe I leaned forward to grab something from a lower shelf and hit my head on the shelf right in front of my face. Now that takes some serious talent, folks...to be able not only to hit your head on something directly in your line of sight, but also to do it while telling the story of how you had done something quite similar just five minutes before. Ah, I am indeed a superhero extraordinaire.

I was laughing at myself the whole way home yesterday, and it got me to thinking. I've come up with another superhero power I might be interested in. I broke away from the traditional options given to us in comic books, and made up my own. For lack of a better term (and I'm open to suggestions for alternate names), I'm calling it bulls**t vision.

Bulls**t vision is similar to x-ray vision. With x-ray vision you can see through walls and people's clothes/skin, etc. With bulls**t vision you can see through people's crap they're feeding you. I picture it as such: while talking to someone, you could activate your bulls**t vision and a little meter would come up at the bottom of your visual field, registering how much that person really believed what they were telling you.

And here's where it would come in handy: dating. Say you're at a bar, and someone approaches you and starts hitting on you. They pay you complements, say nice things, and all around do the right things to make you feel special. Are they saying these things to get into your pants, or do they really mean them? Another instance: when someone breaks up with you...and they tell you how wonderful you are, it's not you it's me....etc. All of these things might be true, but they just might not know it...they might be trying to let you down easy. For anyone who's wondered if their ex was really that upset about the breakup, or if the guy/girl at the bar was really going to call, or really did think you were amazing...bulls**t vision is for you.

It also works in other places: when someone is trying to sell you something, or at work when your boss is making promises, or when trying to figure out who to vote for - who really believes what they're saying in their speeches?

Now, I haven't figured out yet how it works if you're on the phone with someone...not sure if it would work then. Maybe on video phones but not regular phones? Every superhero power has to have a weakness...so maybe that's the weakness of bulls**t vision - you have to be able to see the person for it to work.

Anyway, just wanted to offer up that idea for those of you still picking your superhero power. It's one I would seriously consider, if I hadn't been born with my superhero power of klutziness. And now it's time for breakfast - don't worry, I'll try hard not to burn myself while cooking. =)

Today's post is brought to you by my pre-dawn exercise delerium, and the number 7.

2005-01-31T22:18:00.000-05:00

Alright, I think I'm done reading about hospital feng shui for the evening. I'm going to decompress, and then go to bed. But let's catch up first, no?

What's been going down in the world of Krash? Well, I got Red Sox tickets this weekend. Yeah, you heard me right, I got Sox tickets. To two games, even. One opening weekend (not opening day, opening weekend...a girl needs a Saturday to sleep off the beer and Fenway Frank combo), and one in May. I absolutely cannot wait. Pitchers and catchers report in 16 days, and this is what will get me through the rest of winter.

Now, those of you who know me know for a fact that I am a lazy gal. Don't get me wrong, I like to keep busy (you all know that too from my complete slack at sending prompt email responses) and be active, but I also fully appreciate the beauty of lying on the couch all day watching bad tv and napping. That is totally heaven to me. And I detest, I repeat DETEST, excercise. You have to trick me into it...like making it a game (I enjoy playing sports) or keeping it different each time. However, this morning I got up BEFORE THE SUN ROSE and went and worked out. And, of course, this (and my class last week) made me all philosophical.

"Why did you work out Kristy?" you ask. I'm so glad you're interested...read on: I got up and worked out this morning because my doctor asked me to. Not because she told me I had to, and not because my health depended on it, but because she asked me to. I'm on a medication called Celebrex, and recently there were two studies released about the use of Celebrex. One study showed that it increased a person's risk for heart diseasae. One study showed no such effects. So, results are inconclusive right now. As it turns out, Celebrex is the only drug we've found so far that keeps my arthritis in check, so I'm not keen to go off of it. However, I'm also not keen to have a heart attack. I mean, I joke about being a 27 year old trapped in an 87 year old body, but I don't really want it to happen for real. However, again, I don't like to exercise. Conundrum? Fortunately not for me. I like my doctors SO much that I'm willing to do the things they ask me to do. Get a flu shot? OK, I don't care so much for having a sore arm for four days and I'm convinced I'm not going to get the flu, but if you want me to I will. Exercise three times a week? Well, I don't like feeling like a gerbil on an exercise wheel, but if that's all that's available to me until the weather is more cooperative, and you want me to do it, alright. I'll even sacrifice my most favorite thing, sleep to do it.

"Now Kristy, why are you making such a big deal about this?" Ah, good question, dear readers. I'm making a big deal about this because it is a perfect example of what can happen when health care is run the right way. My doctors all talk to each other about my health, even though they're not in the same practice. And they all treat me with a great deal of respect, ask for my input, listen to my answers, and research all my questions thoroughly. I figure if someone is going to care that much about me, I should respect them right back and do as they ask. And that's the other thing: they ask. They respect the fact that I'm an adult, they give me the rational argument for their preferences, and they ask nicely for me to comply. And for all that I am more than willing to be a fully compliant patient (a rarity, take it from someone who works in health care).

But it gets bigger than that. Ah yes, there's more: this is where last week's class plays in. Actually, now that I think about it, all of this semester's information plays in. My class this spring is focusing on program administration...it's rather dry material; for example last week we read and discussed insurance and HMOs and managed care in general, and this week we're reading about constructing welcoming pediatric environments. I'm not as excited this semester to sit down and read, because until I wrote the second sentence of this paragraph, I felt it was information I wasn't going to use until much further down the road. I'd rather be reading about studies of the effects of play on children in pediatric settings, and other such fun things. But I digress.... The point is, our healthcare system is messed up. There's a lot of reasons for this, and surprisingly it's not all the insurance companies or politicians, if you can believe it. It's rather long and complicated, but suffice it to say that last week's class on managed care really got me thinking about how to improve our healthcare system. It's a tough call. Somebody loses no matter what you do. Free healthcare is not as easy as you'd think either. Yes, Canada has it. But their wait times are crazy long. And their people are less sick than we are: there's a reason people come from all over the world to cities like Boston and Houston and such to get their specialized medical care. But what if the people in Canada are healthier than us because their doctors take the time to sit down with them and ask questions about their lifestyle, what's going on with them personally...factors that most doctors in the US ignore? What if it's because they can practice more preventative medicine because they know their patients better? Yes, the wait time to see a doctor is longer, but maybe it's with good reason, and maybe it has great effects you didn't originally think about. Sit back for a second and think about the last time you saw a doctor and the visit with the MD him/herself took more than 4 minutes. How old were you? Before I moved to Boston, I was probably in middle school or younger. And that counts the times I saw all sorts of specialists in Florida for the arthritis and such. It makes a difference. My functioning has been top-notch for the most part since I've moved here, and I'm convinced it's the care my doctors provide. And the environmental studies we're reading this week are another example: if we just take the time to add small touches to our medical environments like arranging the furniture to promote opportunities for community interaction as well as areas for privacy, or adding more natural light and items from nature (plants, fish tanks, etc)...if we just take the time to think about what we could do to make the patient more comfortable, we might just be able to improve their condition before they even get any medicine in their body. (No, really, there have been studies done, folks. I've been reading them all night. Environment actually makes a huge difference in healing time.)

Anyway, I'm tired, and my brain is fried from the work I've been doing all weekend, so this might be a little incoherent. And yet again, I've managed to bring up a major issue and offer up no real solutions. I guess one thing this blog is teaching me is true respect for those who choose to go into politics. We really give them a hard time, and some of them deservedly so, but in the end, they choose to carry the weight of our needs on their shoulders and make some tough decisions. It's something I know I couldn't do...I'd be too fraught with guilt about the people I'd slighted, or I'd never be able to make a decision because I'd always be convinced there was a better way. So I try to change the world in my own small ways: by rambling on here and maybe forcing you to think about the issue more, discuss it with others, and maybe get involved...and I play with kids. Because, well, I'm going to get all Whitney Houston on you again, but I believe the children are our future, and if we make their lives better, they're going to thrive and grow, and perhaps one of them will grow up to fix the problems we couldn't.

In the meantime, I'm headed to bed. I have to get up before dawn tomorrow and work out, after all. =)

Everybody else is doing it...

2005-01-24T17:11:00.000-05:00

Yeah, OK. 98% of my friends in Boston who blog posted on the blizzard. I suppose I will too. But that does NOT make me a lemming. I'm doing it for those of you who don't read those other people's blogs. Consider it community service.

Well, what can I tell you that the news and the weather channel and everyone else hasn't told you? It snowed. This was my first blizzard, so I was really excited. Most of the hurricanes I lived through in Florida were mild, not much more than big thunderstorms when they finally passed over me. I'm told this "blizzard" is also mild...which I guess I can buy. The tricky thing about blizzards is not the snow, per se, but the wind. For example, from my apartment windows it looked like there was hardly any snow at all for a number of hours. However, if you were to go look out the building windows in the hallway, you'd see cars completely covered in snow. Some were lucky, some were not. Very, very random. Again for example, my car was completely free of snow at the end of the blizzarding. However, two cars down from me, the cars were completely buried. Bizarre. This is apparently called a "snow drift." In the end, Kate and I rented 5 movies, bought a few tasty treats (I made york peppermint patty brownies), and hunkered down for the night. A good time was had by all. The next day, when we didn't have cable, my friend Brianna sent her very kind roommate Steve over to pick us up (our parking lot had not yet been plowed) and we watched football at Bri's house. Really, if it hadn't snowed, this weekend wouldn't have been too different from other weekends Kate and I have had. We only noticed a difference when we lost hot water (since restored) and cable, and when we walked outside to meet Steve and turned into instant ice sculptures.

So, yeah. Not bad. My final analysis is this: if you're going to go through a blizzard, spend it with friends and pray you have power and it can be a really good time.

One of the movies Kate and I watched while huddled away in our apartment was "Bowling for Columbine." I am familiar with Michael Moore in that I know who he is and what he does, but I've never read any of his books or seen his movies. Whether or not you agree with his politics, I must say that he is a powerful storyteller. Now, I've admitted before to being a fairly liberal gal, so a lot of what he had to say rang true to me. But that's sort of like going to a pep rally - it gets you to think a little about a subject, but it doesn't present the opposing side. What I'd really love is if there was a super conservative documentarian making movies on the same subjects that Michael Moore does, so I could see more than one side of the argument. I'd feel better about agreeing with Michael Moore if I knew what the counter argument was (and his presentations of Charleton Heston and other conservatives don't count, because he could arguably be editing their comments).

In this movie, he brings up an interesting question (my apologies to those of you who have already seen the movie, I'm very slowly catching up on movies I've wanted to see for a long time, and no I haven't seen "Farenheit 911" yet, that's next): Why are there so many gun-related deaths in the United States? The stats presented in the movie were sick - I'm not sure what the year was, but get these stats of number of gun-related deaths in different countries for one year: Japan - 39, Australia - 65, UK - 68, Canada - 165, France - 255, Germany - 381, United States: 11,127. Seriously? That's crazy. I haven't had time to investigate criticism of these statistics, but I'm assuming that there's some sort of argument about things averaging out when you factor in population size. But it just doesn't seem right. Hang on.

The population size of Japan is roughly125,000,000. The population size of the U.S. is roughly 295,000,000. OK. So we're somewhere between 2 and 3 times the size of Japan, population-wise. Our gun deaths are 28 times Japan's. WHY?

Moore presents several possibilities, the one I latched onto was the media. This actually really interests me, because he posits that the U.S. media is largely negative information which somehow may lead to more violence. I'd love to hear from others (Pat, if you still read this, or pass it on to Andy) who have lived in other countries...what's the media like there? Is it really that different? I'm also torn on this presentation because, well...there's lots of stuff. I feel like better parenting could solve this problem even if the media remains negative (parents control their children's viewing habits, and teach them non-violence), for one.

Anyway, I'd love to hear people's thoughts on this. Those who know more about the stats, more about Michael Moore, those who have seen the movie, those who haven't. Those who agree, those who disagree. You're all welcome, and in fact encouraged. This is something I'd like to explore further, but I'm lazy...and in the end I feel the best way to really sort out one's thoughts on issues is to bounce them off of other people, hear what they have to say, and re-form your own thoughts.

That's all for now. This has gotten lengthy, and besides, I have to get off the computer at the resource center at MGH now because my allotted time is up. But think about it, and let me know. And in the meantime, hug somebody you love, and listen to someone you think gets ignored most of the time. You might be surprised at the difference you can make by just doing that.

Thanks for tuning in! You're free to stay.

2005-01-21T13:47:00.000-05:00

This morning when I left for the doctor's office the thermometer read 2 degrees (Fahrenheit), and with windchill it felt like -17 (F). Now it's a balmy 7 (F) and it feels like -11 (F). note: previous weather information came from weather.com. I know, I know. I KNOW! I chose to move here, there are people in Minnesota who have a high of -52 without windchill today. I know! No right to complain.

But the cold got me philosophical this fine Boston morning. (That's right, the cold. I'm a nerd, folks. Everything makes me philosophical at some point or another. Turkish Delight, the cold, you name it. And you love it. That's why you're still reading.) I started to think about how cold it must have been for the Pilgrims. I mean, think of it: they came here and built a society in the mess of a few Massachusetts winters. And they did it without the comforts of central heat, gortex jackets, or cars with heated seats to get around in. I can't even imagine. I complain when I have to walk a block in 8 layers of warm synthetic clothing with those little heat packs you get for your mittens when you go skiing. But the Pilgrims wanted freedom so badly that they lived through the miserable cold without much to call their own. Now that's passion for what you believe in.

Sometime last year I read Profiles in Courage by the late President John F. Kennedy. It is a Pulitzer Prize-winning book about political bravery written in his senate years before he took office as our president. Kennedy told the stories of senators throughout United States history that stood their ground and did what they knew was right for the country, despite party affiliations and pressure from their constituents. Daniel Webster, for example, promoted the Clay Compromise even though it gave more rights to slave owners (something he, his party, and his constituents were against). He did it because he took an oath to protect and preserve the Union, our nation as a whole, and he knew without the Clay Compromise the South would secede. It was potentially political suicide, but he did it anyway. The stories in the book are amazing, and it was a fantastic read in an election year. It really gives you a new perspective on politicians you might have thought you would vote for. In the end, it's more important to do what's best for the nation as a whole rather than what you think is right for yourself. That's how democracy works, when it works. And it's frustrating, because you might be in the minority, and the country is run counter to your wishes, but again...that's democracy. Everyone has a say, but the majority rules.

I am reminded of a great quote from the movie "The American President":

America isn't easy. America is advanced citizenship - you've gotta want it bad, because it's gonna put up a fight. It's gonna say, "You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours. You want to claim this land is the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country cannot just be a flag. The symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest. Now show me that. Defend that. Celebrate that in your classrooms. Then you can stand up and sing about the land of the free.

I think that speaks for itself.

Anyway, in the end this post seems to be about passion for your beliefs. It's inspiring to know that our country was founded by people of such fortitude that they withstood astounding hardships so that they might create a better life for themselves and their descendants. It's also inspiring to know that our history is punctuated with people who respected that passion, and had a similar verve for the principles upon which our nation was founded. It kind of relates back to the Five for Fighting concept - what is it that you are so passionate about that you would fight for it despite the cost? Kinda makes you want to shut down your computer and get out there and do something, huh?

Well go ahead! And let me know how it turns out. =)

Kids, don't try this at home! (Or, the blog about how my creative chef skills are crap.)

2005-01-17T20:45:00.000-05:00

So, there's a pre-story to this story. Whenever something of mine would break, I'd bring it to my dad to fix. When I was old enough to get the joke, he finally started telling me to RTFM (or, for those of you who haven't been told this before: Read The F*ing Manual). It used to irritate me to no end, as I just wanted my broken item fixed, and I knew he'd be able to fix it immediately. But in the end, it was good for me, as I learned a lot.

Apparently, however, I did not learn enough. Reading the instructions is important folks, and here's why:

When my friend Michelle moved out of the dorms last year she gave me some of her non-perishable food. One of these things was a taco seasoning packet, and until tonight, it stayed on a shelf in my kitchen. But tonight I decided to spice up my burger dinner and I got the brilliant idea to make a taco burger. I love the taste of the meat in tacos, and I thought...well this is a great idea. I'll just put the taco seasoning into the pound of ground beef I have, make it into 3 or 4 burger patties, cook one and save the ones I don't cook. I'll even top it with some cheddar cheese slices, and it'll be delicious. As I was imagining my taco burger and how good it would be, I even planned into the future: next time I make taco burgers I'll also make a "special sauce" out of salsa and just a little bit of sour cream to put on top, and I'll have lettuce. It'll be brilliant!

So I worked the seasoning into the ground beef, made my burger patties, and cooked the one I was going to eat. I topped it with cheese and sat down, eager to try my new invention. Turns out, whatever it is that makes the ground beef taste so good in tacos...does not work in burger form. It wasn't that it was too strong or flavorful; it didn't even really taste like taco meat. It just tasted GRODY. So the instructions on the back of the taco seasoning packet are indeed important: it doesn't work unless you brown the meat first, and then add the seasoning and the water.

But didn't it sound like a good idea at least?

Outrageous

2005-01-13T21:44:00.000-05:00

Alright. Prepare yourselves for a rant.

WHY is it that the things that are necessary in life cost so much money? For example, healthy food. This summer I was working more, and so I treated myself to a healthy diet full of vegetables and fruit. My grocery bill was, on average, at least $30 more every two weeks. Seriously? I'm trying to live a normal-length life here, and all I want are some simple veggies and chicken and healthy food, and it costs more. On the other hand, if I want to eat pasta and pig out on chips for days on end, I can maybe make rent this month. What the hell? Another example (sorry to all you men out there who won't be able to relate...) is feminine products. So, these are things without which most women cannot function. And they're wicked expensive. For no good reason, as far as I can see. Most of the contents are fairly cheap materials: plastic, cotton, etc. Pat tonight pointed out one to which we can all relate: razor blades. Tiny pieces of metal and plastic. $8 for 4? Seriously? My final example brings me to the major subject of this rant: jeans.

Seriously, JEANS. (Adam, this one's for you, since you're so into fashion.) Now, some of you are familiar with my recent search for a new pair of jeans. For those of you who are not (or did I blog about this already? Well, anyway, here's a summary since I'm too lazy to check...) all I wanted was a pair of non-stretch jeans that were not loosely cut that cost less than $65. Impossible to find in regular retail stores. Seriously. I found some pairs that met all the other requirements, but they cost $80. Wait, let me say that again, in case you thought I was joking. $80. They're made of cotton, people. Cotton! $80 for cotton? Is there some cotton shortage I'm unaware of?

I finally found some jeans (several pairs, in fact) at the outlets in Florida. Three pairs. And get this: $12 for one non-stretch pair, $15 for another, and $20 for a stretch pair. After relaying my frustrations and final discovery of treasures to my friend Tracy, she sent me an article from her local paper about the jeans craze. As it turns out, jeans actually cost $80 now. Really? And those are the mass-produced, cheap jeans. There are brands of jeans out there (Seven for all Mankind, True Religion, and others) for which people pay between $150 to $300. Now, here's my question: WHY? The article Tracy sent mentions that these jeans are hand-stitched and hand-treated so that they look just right in terms of fit and weathering. Some have different sized pockets for different sizes, and some apparently shape your butt to just the right shape. People like Jennifer Garner and Jessica Simpson buy these jeans.

Now let's return to my original question: why do these necessities: healthy food, clothes, hygiene products - cost so much money? OK, so there might be a valid reason for the food. Supply/demand, weather, economy, farmer stuff. That could possibly make sense. Hygiene products - well, I really have no idea. Probably something to do with the fact that the manufacturers just can charge that much because we need it. Kind of like a group monopoly - if nobody lowers their prices, then we all will still have to pay the prices. Don't get me started on that. But the jeans? I think they cost that much because people will pay those prices. And why? I guarantee you that I look almost as good in my $12 jeans as I would in the $300 jeans. And I certainly wouldn't look $288 better in the $300 jeans. There's no pair of jeans that can magically make you look that good. And if you're Jennifer Garner, or Jessica Simpson, do you really need a pair of jeans that special to make you look good? My guess is you would look just as good in a $12 pair of jeans. You would look good in garbage bags made into pants. You just look good all the time. It baffles me that people pay so much more for such tiny differences. I get it that jeans are the new thing in fashion: you can dress them up with the right top and shoes and they're acceptable almost anywhere (a movie premiere, fancy restaurant, clubs) or dress them down with your favorite flip-flops and tank top and head to the beach. Great. That's why I like them: they're versatile and it's hard to go wrong with them. If I could, I'd wear jeans and a white cotton tshirt every day.

Anyway, maybe someone else has some insight into this. I refuse to even try on jeans that cost more than I can afford, so I can't say for sure that I wouldn't look incredibly good in one of the expensive pairs of jeans. But I can say that I'd still probably keep my $12 pair and put the money I would have spent on the expensive jeans into buying healthy food and a gym membership so that I'd look good enough not to worry about having to buy expensive jeans to make me look good. And then I'd be healthy too, as a bonus.

All I can say is, thank goodness for outlets. And blogs, on which I can rant about things like the price of food and jeans. =)

2800 miles, 13 states, 17 days

2005-01-09T15:34:00.000-05:00

Yup. That's the approximate sum total of my winter vacation travels. I grossly underestimated on the mileage, by the way, so as not to be accused of exaggeration. It's definitely more, especially since I drove around in the places I stopped (Cville, Otown), but I forgot to try and log it on my odometer so we'll all have to do with the estimate from mapquest.

Aren't you even a little impressed? That's a heck of a lot of driving. And you know what's really weird? I enjoyed it. I listened to at least 50% of my CD collection (and I own a lot of music, folks) and caught up with some friends, and relaxed. There's just something about driving that soothes me, maybe because you are forced to do nothing. You can't pay your bills, you can't do your laundry, or grocery shop...long drives are a great excuse to just escape from the rest of the world.

On my way back to Boston I came by way of Harrisburg, PA (Hi Tracy and Mark and Drew!), and as I drove from PA to MA I travelled through the mountains. After some sort of ice or snow storm. Atop one mountain that was virtually unpopulated save for the highway itself, I found myself in a complete land of ice. No snow, just ice. At first I thought it had snowed, because the day was so bright and shiny that the sunlight reflected off the ice and made it seem white, but upon closer observation everything...and I do mean everything... was encased in ice. What was truly amazing about the whole thing was that each single blade of grass had a case of ice around it. Each bud on each tiny branch had a case of ice around it. I'm not sure how this happens, such an intricate layer of ice around every small item, but it was breathtaking. The trees were bent down to the ground - not broken but simply bent - and it was as if I was in some amazing glass art exhibit. It reminded me of part of the Robert Frost poem "Birches:"

Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.

The trees I saw weren't birches but some sort of evergreen, but it was just as beautiful. I love the last line of the excerpt: "You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen." It applied so well to my mountain top because you felt on top of the world, all by yourself, and if any piece of heaven had fallen, you felt it would land right there. I love Robert Frost.

Now that I'm back from vacation, I'm adjusting to the snow and ice again. As a warning to any people new to Boston: don't trust the brown snow. No, it's not what you think. Get your mind out of the gutter. I've grown up around snow, we used to get just the right amount most years in Charlottesville, but I guess I never noticed the brown snow before. Last year I had several mishaps with it, and I've had my first one this year just this weekend. Here's the brown snow warning:

Brown snow is that slushy stuff that can be very tricky when trying to pick your way around a mess of snow and puddles while walking in the city. Sometimes it is a big pile, and it looks like it is solid enough to step on, and you step on it only to find it is floating on top of a deep puddle and now your foot is all wet. Somtimes, on the other hand, it is a very thin layer, also floating on top of a deep puddle, but because of it's texture it looks very similar to the texture of the asphault and you think it's solid road, step on it, and now your foot is all wet. Either way, the brown snow is EVIL. Pure evil. Avoid it at all costs. Keep your wits about you folks, the brown snow may have come up with new ways to trick you this year that I have not yet discovered. If I happen to come across any more of these diabolical plots, I'll let you know.

(What am I saying? There's a reason why people call me Krashworth. Of Course I'm going to come across the diabolical plots of the brown snow. And after I come home and change my socks and shoes, I'll make sure to let you know.)

Well, I suppose I should get back to the process of organizing the Things I Need To Do This Week. And unpacking and such. Stay warm, listen to good music, and if you need a break from reality, go for a long drive, preferably to the top of an ice-covered mountain. Trust me, it's a good time.

Look what the cat DRAGged in....

2005-01-06T01:22:00.000-05:00

Hey, wait, it's me!

I know, I've been away...my vacation in Florida had iffy internet so there wasn't time to blog. Besides, I was too busy enjoying the weather and my lovely friends. Shout out to my Florida peeps, especially Bonnie who provided me a place to stay and a very cute New Year's Eve date (a big, puppy-eyed, boy named Ricky. Oh yeah, and he's a chihuahua. But he did lick my entire face at midnight!).

The entire trip is a blur, and since I've been driving all day today, the teflon brain is in full effect. I will relay to you one story that sticks out, and my impressions from it:

I went to a drag show with Emily.

This was my first drag show. Overall impressions? I would have thought it would be better. Emily tells me it was not a very good drag show...and if you throw out the judgement of the outfits and preformances, what I was most disappointed in was the crowd. The entire thing would have been monumentally more fun if the crowd would have been more into it, clapping more (or at all, in some cases), and maybe some hooting and hollering. I definitely expected hooting and hollering, and did not really recieve any. BOOOOOOOO.

Now, as far as the performances went, some were good, and some were bad. The first, uh..."lady," shall we say?....the first lady did a FIERCE Tina Turner combo. She really got into the dancing, and did some great Tina Turner moves. And most of the lip synching was on target. She really put her all into it. There were some ladies that were really spot-on with the lip synch, and then there were a few that clearly did not know the words at all. And one didn't know the words, nor did she dance very well! She sort of teetered around the floor, and well, that was it. You really ought to get the words right, or at least put on a good dance show. One or the other, but doing neither...well I can do that. C'mon.

Also, some people in the audience gave the ladies singles, like it was a strip club. The performers would walk over, take the money or let the audience members put the money in their "cleavage" and then give a kiss on the cheek. It wasn't a lot of money, maybe $10 a performance, but still...not something I expected.

My final impression was this: these ladies looked good. No lie. They were toned, their legs were long and slender, and a lot of them had nice abs/midriffs. Now, I'm not one to diet. My personal philosophy is: there's a reason why the word diet contains the word DIE. I do try to watch the content and portion of my meals most of the time, and I will be especially vigilant when I need to fit into particular outfits (for weddings, per se), but I'm a firm believer in just eating regular food and not torturing yourself. I also have a natural aversion to exercise...you really have to trick me into it by making it a game or somehow fun. I had a good stint for a few months last year, but for the most part in recent history large mishaps occur when I try to exercise, and I'd like to avoid as many large mishaps as possible. And earlier this year, I saw the movie "Super Size Me" and that motivated me to exercise a little and eat better. But not much, and that was a pretty powerful movie. But these ladies may be the key to me finally getting into good shape. Because, well...it's entirely vain, but I'm going to feel silly if men look better as women then I do. =) Just kidding, y'all...but my hat is off to these ladies, because they must work hard. And when we returned to Emily's house after the show, I really thought about how hard they work to look that good, and it made the chocolate cake I was eating taste that much better.

On a final note, much love is going out tonight to my girls Brianna, SarahT, and Anafrs. I'm holding you all close to my heart and sending you big, BIG hugs, my dears.

Keep it real, folks. I'll post in a few days.

I'm getting old(er)...and I LIKE IT!

2004-12-28T15:43:00.000-05:00

I went shopping yesterday, in my eternal quest for jeans that are non-stretch, cut right, and less than my grocery bill for three months. I won't bore you (some of you, again...) with the minutia of the irritations I went through, but like many other random things in my life, it got me all philosophical and stuff.

I am, by no means, old. I am young and spry and happy about it. But there are signs to me that I'm growing up. I like Total Raisin Bran and Special K instead of Frosted Flakes for breakfast. Flossing has become important to me. I actually crave water and vegetables when I haven't had enough. And, as I look back, you couldn't pay me to be 20 again. Not that 20 wasn't fun...but I'm done with it. I look forward to my 30's with joy. No more relationship games, no more self-insecurity, just me...here I am, take me or leave me. I feel like I'm finally at an age where I can keep all the zeal and passion of my earlier years while leaving behind the instability that came with them as I tried to figure out who I was and what I wanted from life.

This does NOT mean, however, that I know what I want for the rest of my life. I hold true to my first post: that life is a search, there's always a way to improve, and it's boring if you find a place to stop permanently. But there is something to be said for finding a center, a home to which you can return when things get a little off-kilter. And I finally feel like that center is solidifying.

How does this relate to shopping? Well...I went to the Abercrombie store in our local mall yesterday in my afore-mentioned search for jeans. Abercrombie is one of those tricky stores that I still feel I can shop in...there are plenty of very nice, adult-like clothes that are appropriate but not frumpy. Just what I'm looking for. But they also happen to carry really trendy stuff as well, stuff I'm just not sure I can pull off anymore, and that stuff attracts a much younger crowd. As I worked my way through the store yesterday, the front was fairly empty. However, when I got to the middle of the store, I looked to the back half and it was TEEMING with adolescents. I had this moment where I realized that I was literally twice the age of some of those kids, and I had to leave the store immediately. I just couldn't handle trying to get to the clothes I could wear through the throngs of teenage girls fighting over the last "Aberbrombie & Fitch Cheerleading Squad" XXS tshirt. It was at this point that I decided this:

The mall should be like the pool in the summer. Remember when you were little, and you'd go to the local pool, and you'd splash around and have a good time, until the life guard blew his or her wistle and yelled "Adult Swim!" At this point you got out of the pool, and if you were lucky enough to have money on you you'd head to the snack bar and gorge yourself on candy, giving your body the sugar spike it would need for another hour spashing around in the hot sun. Does anyone else remember how happy and calm the adults looked while swimming during Adult Swim? I do. Now I understand why. And I think they should have an "Adult Shop" hour at the mall, where the kids have to hang out outside or in the food court. This way I can get to the clothes I need at Abercrombie without having to trample some poor sixth grader. We all benefit from this plan.

(This is, of course, assuming that I have the fashion sense and the money to buy adult-stylish-but-not-frumpy clothes. I don't. But in a perfect world.....)

Until this plan can be implemented, however, I suppose I'll have to continue and do the best I can with what I have. Online shopping will help a little, shopping while the kids are in school is always a great idea, and on the rare occasion that I brave the stores during a school holiday, I'll just have to embrace my new old(er)-lady self, take a deep breath as I wade through the shoppers half my age, and say to myself,"These kids today....."

Light Girl and her powerful Twisting Toes

2004-12-25T15:34:00.000-05:00

I am a superhero. You are a superhero. We all have a superhero inside of us, and every day it changes. If you can't figure out on your own what your superhero identity is for the day, head to this site and find out. Here's my profile for today:

Name: Light Girl
Secret Identity: Kristy Ashworth
Special Power: Twisting Toes
Transportation: Shamu the Elephant
Weapon: Photon Flare
Costume: Carbonite Snow Suit
Sidekick: Black Dan
Nemesis: Eric the Crafty
Tragic Flaw: Addicted to sugar
Favorite Food: Chow Mein

I don't know what I'm more excited about: the fact that I get to ride an elephant, or that the website figured out that I am, indeed, addicted to sugar. Eerie.

You may be thinking, what's this all about, Kristy? Why are you telling us this? Well, other than keeping with the procrastination purpose of the blog by providing you with yet another website you can visit daily and find amusing, I have been thinking a great deal lately about this question:

If you could have a superhero power, what would it be?

Now, think about this before you answer. I've asked a few friends, and the most common answer is flying. I agree, flying would be cool. And well, invisibility would be useful...for finding out things you want to know, or for seeing things you don't get to see normally. I have given this some serious thought, and here is my run-down of the positives and negatives of superhero powers:

invisibility/reading minds: I suppose this would be a good thing, if you're incessantly curious about things you don't know. And, knowing me, this would be perfect for me. But here's the thing: I'm pretty happy finding out things the way I do. And I think if I knew some of what I don't find out of what other people think or do, it might make me sad. There's something to be said for the bliss of ignorance. So i choose neither of these. Although useful in very specific situations, for me they'd cause more harm than good.

flying: Well, yeah. This one's pretty cool. I don't necessarily have an argument against it, except that everyone chooses it, and I tend to shy away from the hip and trendy. But we'll keep it in reserve, as I don't have a real argument against it yet.

healing others: This is the one I used to choose. I think it would be a pretty good one to do, you'd feel great about yourself and, well, what a fantastic thing to do. Here's the issue that I recently developed with this one: how do you decide who deserves to get healing and who doesn't? I don't feel qualified to do this, it's part of the reason I really respect judges and I kind of fear being on a jury. I like to be right, all the time, and I don't know that I could feel that I was always right with this power. So I'm on the fence. I'd really like to heal others, but I'm not sure I could handle the responsibility.

control the weather: This one might be cool. You could just let the weather do it's thing, but then on important days, you could fix stuff. Nice weather for a Sox game, or your wedding, or if you wanted to get out of running outside one day you could make it rain, or produce snow for someone who's never seen it. You'd just have to keep in mind the whole effects on things like crops and local events and stuff, but that's doable.

shoot fire/water/ice out of your eyes/hands/etc.: I'm really not sure what I'd use this for. You only get one, usually, and well...I don't usually run into situations where I so desperately need fire/water/ice that it has to come out of my body. I guess if I were a backpacker these would all come in handy.

being able to sit up without falling over: My dad suggested this one. When I told him that's not a superhero power, he said it was for him. So, there you go. I don't choose this one, but some people might!

In the end, there's tons of powers. Feel free to use the comments features and let me know what you'd pick! I'd be very interested to know. (You can also feel free to pick ones that I haven't listed here.) I think I will stick with my current superhero power - klutziness. That may not sound like a superhero power to you, but it is to me. I'm exceptionally talented at being a klutz - more so than most others - and it brings a lot of laughter to those around me. And that's not such a bad superhero power after all - bringing smiles to other people's faces. And I'll just go tandem skydiving again when I want the sensation of flying.

In the meantime I'll be exploring what I can do with my Twisting Toes today.

Instructional Post

2004-12-23T21:48:00.000-05:00

Just as a heads up for those of you who read this: if you're not reading the comments, you should. I get some pretty interesting comments. Emily comments on a lot of my posts, and if you're not reading her comments, you're missing out. Emily's funny, and she knows it. And so do I.

Yesterday I saw a helicopter land on the highway.

2004-12-23T15:40:00.000-05:00

I did! On the NJ Turnpike. There was a wreck, and they stopped traffic about a quarter mile ahead of me, and cleared out a space for the Medivac Helicopter to land. It was interesting to watch. Also interesting was how everyone around me was out of their cars watching as well, and how removed we all seemed to be from the situation at hand: clearly someone was very badly hurt, but we were all interacting as if nothing had really happened, as if we were just having a party on the pike. It was as if we had all gathered to watch a movie. Bizarre.

Although the hour break in driving set my schedule back just a little, I still enjoyed my time in the car thoroughly. Most people think I'm crazy (and of course they are right, but not just for this one reason), but I love to drive long distances. There's something about it that clears my head and lets me relax. There's also a point I reach where I hit delerium, and everything is silly and I giggle incessantly for an hour or so. Here's what I thought of during my delerium yesterday:

I'm not sure why more people don't use "Love Machine" by Smokey Robinson and The Miracles as their wedding song. (OK, I'm giggling even now thinking about it.) Can you imagine? There's something just fun and silly about it...about starting your life together with a silly song that indicates that you'll have a sense of humor and adventure about what lies ahead for the two of you. There's a little piece of me that wants to do this, but I'm pretty sure when the time comes...well, one of three things will happen: (1) my friends and my mom will veto this idea, (2) my future husband will veto the idea, or (3, and most likely to happen first) the part of me that has wanted to be a princess on my wedding day will overwhelm the silly side of me and it won't even be brought up. Although, Emily did have James Brown's "I Feel Good" as her recessional, which I thought was very cool...and that could be an option to satisfy the silly while still getting my first dance to be all romantic and stuff, since slow dancing is one of my most favorite romantic activities. But I still like to think about a couple using "Love Machine" as their first dance, and how they would giggle, and how cute it would be. You'd definitely know that those two had a good sense of humor.

"Love Machine," by the way, if not used as a wedding song, makes for a FANTASTIC driving song. Very great to groove out to as you plow down the highway.

And now to address some business from the comments section:

Emily asked the question: if you've been blind your whole life and you take a hallucinagen, what do you hallucinate? Good question. I've been very nerdy and thought this over a great deal, and I'm going to offer you my opinion, but I'd love to hear other people's ideas. First, on the super-nerdy end of things, I suppose this all depends on what it is that causes your blindness. If you are blind because the segment of your brain that processes visual images doesn't work, well...then I think you could maybe hallucinate other senses, such as smells, sounds, etc. But her question brought up another question in my mind: what do blind people dream? Because I'd guess however it is that they dream (and having taken neurobiology, you'd think that I would remember whether or not blind people dream, but I don't, due to my horrible affliction with teflon brain) that's how they'd hallucinate. And that is what I think.

Also, on the topic of the pirate v. ninja issue, my mom has commented that she does not feel that pirates are drunk all the time, instead only when they've just buried their treasure. And Emily brings up the point that we ought to consider why the pirate and ninja are fighting, as well as where they are fighting. Level of passion and home turf advantage may play a role. In the end, and to put it to rest for a while, I think this is a question that can only be answered when we truly see a pirate and a ninja in a fight. So, if someone happens to see this occur, or knows of a movie where it happens, let me know. I'd love to know the results.

Alright, enough procrastinating. There are Things to be done, and then later tonight I get to help produce the 11 show of the local news (thanks Bill!). Before I go, however, do me this favor: open up your arms wide, take your right arm and wrap it across your body and around your left shoulder, grab and hold. Then take your left arm and wrap it across your body and around your right shoulder, grab and SQUEEZE. Consider yourself hugged by me. Holiday tidings, peace, and joy to all!

In the Blink of an Eye

2004-12-20T23:09:00.000-05:00

Suddenly it's Monday. What happened?

You'd think now that I'm done with school I'd blog less because there's no homeword to avoid. Not true...in reality, there's always something to be avoided. Fear Not.

It was a marvelous weekend, y'all. My friends came to visit, and we spent the weekend doing what we do best: being us. Some of it was spent doing the Boston tourist thing (going to a show, visiting the North End for pizza and canolis, going out to a bar, Cheers, historical graveyards, ice skating, etc) and some of it was spent being silly (big breakfast, yahtzee, photo ops, etc), but all of it was spent being us. Moments that stick out in my head: me falling down from a complete stand-still (no lie - my feet somehow flew out from underneath me and suddenly my rear end and the ice were kissing), the collective gasp that uncontrollably emitted from Bonnie, Debb and me as we finally saw Barrage jump in a circle while playing the fiddle, and Bonnie making snow angels today. The most memorable, though, was the moment I had Saturday night as I lay on the air mattress and we all sat around just talking. As I lay there, I felt at home. Yes, we were at my house. But that wasn't what made it home. There's something about spending time with people who know you, who love you, that makes it home. It occurred to me that it Just Felt Right for us to all be that way - I forgot that it was unusual to have Noel (from Illinois), Debb (from Connecticut), Bonnie (from Florida), Erica (from Massachusetts), and me (from Boston for the moment) all in the same place. And at that moment, when I realized how special it was to have all of us together, and how normal it felt, I realized that I was Home. That we could all be in Siberia and it would still feel like Home. And that's some really good stuff. I'm a lucky girl.

As an update to an earlier post: at dinner tonight Daniel pointed out that pirates are probably usually too drunk to beat a ninja in a fight. I forgot about the drunk factor - that probably makes it very difficult for them to aim properly when catching the throwing stars in their wooden legs. In the end, I think it's best we all just campaign for pirate-ninja peace. I mean, really, can't we all just get along?

OK. As always, there's more, but Erica complained that the posts are getting too long for a good break, so I'm going to keep it short. She needs good study breaks, she's swamped with exams and moving right now. Good luck, Erica! I know you can do it. And I'm glad we'll be seeing each other again in a week and a half, even if it means that you're moving far away from me again. Have a safe journey.

And to the rest of you: find a small way to make a difference in someone else's life today. Coax out a smile from someone, clean someone else's dishes while you're doing your own, something easy and small, but something that makes someone else's life just a tiny bit better and easier. I watched Patch Adams yesterday, and it reminded me (as it always does) how easy it is to help others. So now I'm going to save you the hour and a half of movie-watching time and just remind you here. Good luck!

music: an eclectic I Tunes mix tonight..."Baby It's You" by Jo Jo, "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey, "Pictures of You" by The Cure, and "Love's Divine" by Seal.

Too tired to be clever

2004-12-16T15:04:00.000-05:00

OK, I'm still in a really good mood, but I still haven't slept much so I'm completely incoherent. Here's something funny for you to watch and something fun to do with your phone number. That should keep you busy for a while.

(Incidentally, I'm pretty sure I've never had a phone number that didn't have a 1 or a 0 in it, so I've never been able to spell something fun with my phone number. What's nice about the above site is that it'll spell stuff before and after the number, if possible.)

Libraries can be fun!

2004-12-15T13:24:00.000-05:00

Who knew?

Certainly not me. I've always had a bizarre relationship with libraries. On the one hand, there are certain libraries that really inspire me: their beauty and immense size overwhelm me and make me want to sit and read for a long time. Of course, usually that reading I want to do is recreational. The Boston Public Library at Copley is pretty, and I like that one a lot. My favorite thing to do in large, beautiful libraries is to stand in the middle and just take a moment to try and imagine how much knowledge is surrounding me. Pretty darn cool. However, as a student, I have NEVER been able to study in a library. I don't know if it's too quiet, or maybe just because it's too restricting - I feel like I can't take a "jump up on the table and do the crazy white girl booty dance to j-kwon" study break if I want to.

Until now.

Last night I met with a study group to work on our take-home final...my last thing due this semester. We discussed questions we were unsure of, debated a few issues, and then most people left. Not long after, I realized there really weren't that many people in the library at all...which seemed odd to me during exams. I've never been one for libraries, but I had always assumed others were. Evidently not so, at least not at Wheelock. I ran to check the nearby computer lab, and there were only three people, so I ran back to my computer, fired up the ITunes, and busted "Tipsy" out at top volume. I then proceeded to take the study break described above, and the only person who witnessed it was Brianna. I'm fairly sure it was a sight to see, as I have absolutely NO rhythm but I love to dance. Anyway, for me, I finally felt like libraries could be fun. And you all missed it. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

In other news, well...I actually don't have too much to say about my life right now, mostly because I'm horribly sleep deprived and will continue to be so until around Christmas. On the bright side, now that I'm done with school, there's just mega-amounts of FUN to be had: drinks with the girls from my class, a date, a few days of babysitting the twins, and MY FRIENDS ARE COMING TO VISIT THIS WEEKEND! I couldn't be more excited, I tell ya. So even the chore-type stuff is fun from here on in, because it all relates to getting ready for other fun things, and it doesn' t relate to school.

As an aside, if anyone has good recommendations for music...I listen to just about everything, and I have a few long car rides ahead of me. I like driving, actually, but the key is to have great music. So, I'll be driving 13 hours from Boston to my home in VA, and 13 hours from my home in VA to FL a week later, and then a week later driving the reverse, but the trips back will be much closer together. So, new music is always a plus, it makes even your old music sound better once you go back to it, and I'm open to suggestions.

As a bit of community service, I'd also like to offer up this website. Bookmark it on your computer. Then go to it anytime you need cheap gas, or you see cheap gas prices in your area. It works like a community bulletin board, so people post the address of stations that have cheap gas prices in their area, and then others can go to those stations and support them, keeping gas prices low. It's a great idea, so support it if you drive a car!

For your bit of randomness today, I'd like to talk about the monikers for different states' residents. For example, has anyone (not from Massachusetts) ever thought of how to refer to residents of Masschusetts? I'm originally from Virginia, so I'm a Virginian. When I lived in Florida, I met many Floridians. Those make sense to me. Massachusettsians? Eh...not so much. What about Maine? Maniacs? Michigan...Michiganians? If this is starting to bother you, Fear Not. I have found the answer. As it turns out, residents of Massachusetts have the distinct honor of being the only ones that do not use the state name in their moniker. They are Bay Staters. Maine residents are Mainers, and Michigan residents are Michiganders or Michiganites. There's tons of funny ones, like New Mexico residents are New Mexicans, which makes sense to me but just sounds silly. So follow the link and educate yourself, if you are so inclined.

But if I were from Maine, I'd start a state campaign to be called the Maniacs instead of Mainers. I just think it's more fun. And then their tourism campaign could be something like: "We're Maniacs about Maine! Come find out why!" Or "Maine is full of Maniacs! We're crazy about our state!"

Or something.

music: some sort of George Winston CD (the music the girls listen to during their nap) over the baby monitor

Istanbul, not Constantinople

2004-12-13T10:38:00.000-05:00

For anyone who has read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe you have heard of something called Turkish Delight. In the book, Turkish Delight is made out to be some sort of amazing treat, for which Edward (the younger brother) is willing to sell his soul to the devil. I always wondered if such a thing existed, as I have an enormous sweet tooth and would love to try such a powerful treat. A few years ago I had a friend who found some and brought it to a holiday party. You can imagine my excitement when she offered to let me have a taste.

Now, no offense to Turkish folk everywhere, but I did not find the treat to be such a "delight." It was not horrible, but it's definitely not something for which I would betray my family. If I remember correctly, it was sort of gelatinous/gummy in nature, brightly colored, and each square had a sugary coating around the outside.

I just wanted to make you aware of this fact, that I did not find the Turkish Delight all that enjoyable, in case you are ever offered the chance to betray your family for a taste of some. Now at least you'll have more than one person's opinion on which to base your decision. Community service, y'all, that's what I'm all about. Helping your neighbors and such.

Now that the girls I babysit for have waited so patiently while I typed this, I am going to reward them by letting them have the very first guest post on my blog. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the musings of the twins:

mmmmudddoooooool,kmbbzzbzxxccsdcdffcddddccevvvvvvvppppppp-tttthhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

(they're two.)

Pirates and Ninjas and fights, OH MY!

2004-12-12T17:30:00.000-05:00

OK, I'm not done with my paper. Nor have I started on my take-home final But I need a break.

So, how have y'all been? Did you miss me? =) I've had a fantastic week...let's catch you up, and then on with the silliness. OK? Most of the week I was convinced that my laptop had actually molded to my skin and it would now be a permanent appendage. I've been working on this paper all week, and although it's not a difficult paper to write, I'm just entirely apathetic about school right now. It has nothing to do with the topic of the paper - I actually enjoy it - but this always happens to me at the end of the semester: the final paper, test, project, etc...whatever it is that is the large assignment at the end of the semester gets the shaft as far as my enthusiasm goes. I'm just ready for vacation. What else? I had an enchanting evening of food, drinks (both delicious and reasonably priced), strolling and fantastic conversation with a member of the opposite sex on Thursday. That's right, I had a date. A great date. And yes, I'm shamelessly using the blog to score points by publicly complimenting my companion. But I really did have a great time, I mean every word of what I've said...and well, that's all you're getting for now. The important thing for you to know is that I'm having a good time with all of it. Yesterday I hung out with friends on the North Shore and then went to a concert of a lovely band, and in the process found a bar that serves UFO pints for $2. You heard me right: TWO DOLLARS! In Boston. Unheard of. Today was brunch (delicious and reasonably priced again!) with Liz and shopping in Beacon Hill boutiques until it was time to get back to work and head to the library for research. All in all...not a bad week. =)

Are you wondering yet what the subject of the post is for? Well, prepare yourself for the silliness. My friend RLove and I spent approximately an hour and a half this week arguing this question: if a pirate and a ninja got in a fight, who would win? Now, before you laugh heartily at my crazy ideas, please understand this is a topic that has plagued me before. Emily and I have had lengthy discussions on the topic. Emily and I had a hard time deciding, because the pirate has skills like swashbuckling and he will also have a parrot on his shoulder who could be useful in disabling or disarming the ninja. However, the ninja does have great speed, agility, and probably throwing stars. I personally want the pirate to win, as does Emily. No offense to ninjas everywhere, I just like to root for the underdog. RLove claims, HANDS DOWN, that the ninja would win. This is because RLove's definition of a ninja is "the ultimate human." The argument gets circular from there, because the ninja is the ultimate human and therefore no other human, not even a pirate, not even a pirate with a well-trained parrot, could beat the ninja. My argument to this was that the ninja is still a human, however, not a superhuman, and so therefore must be flawed. Humans, by nature, are flawed. We all make mistakes. So if your definition of a ninja includes the word human, even if it is paired with the word ultimate, there is a weakness that can be exploited. Perhaps what makes ninjas "ultimate" humans is that they hide their flaws so well that no one else can figure out what they are. In any case, there was much argument over this, and RLove tried to appease me (because he, too, wants the pirate to win) by saying that pirates have booty, and spoils of looting, and so could therefore hire their own ninja to defend them against other ninjas and thus win the fight. I'm still not convinced. RLove says that, after all, pirates don't even have two legs: one is wooden, but Emily says that the wooden leg could be used as a weapon. And it's one less vulnerable point on the body. I'm still at a real loss as to who wins, so if you've got some thoughts, I'd love to hear them.

These are some of the things I think about folks. Seriously.

In any case, I think I've decompressed enough to get back to the schoolwork. As an aside...someone posted anonymously on the top-lipper/bottom-lipper thing..."top lippers unite!" Who are you? I'd love to know. I totally don't mind if you don't feel like signing up for blogger to post, feel free to use the anonymous post option and just add your name at the end of your comment. In the meantime, keep it real, and try to avoid apathy at all costs...once it grabs you, it's hard to shake. I speak from experience.

music: selections from "Forward" (album) by Ryanhood, and "Love's Divine" by Seal.

Penance

2004-12-10T19:02:00.000-05:00

Oh, Kelley. My ETERNAL apologies. I misspelled your name on the previous blog. I've corrected it now, and you were so kind not to mention it to me. But I wanted to publicly apologize. I'm so incredibly sorry.

This just goes to prove again, folks, that I have the best friends on the planet. Kelley was so kind to ignore the fact that I misspelled her name and still sent me a nice email. She rules.

No more blogging until I finish my paper. But don't think that I don't miss you! I do. I just need to not fail. And as soon as I'm done taking care of that, I'll return to you with lengthy posts on crazy topics. As a preview: one will have to do with ninjas and pirates. Another will have to do with trivia about different states' residents. And others...well...you'll just have to check back in to see, now won't you?

Keep warm!

I have THE BEST friends on the planet.

2004-12-07T13:15:00.000-05:00

It's a fact. Don't try to argue with me...I'm sure your friends are pretty cool, nice people, but nobody...I repeat, NOBODY has better friends than mine. End of discussion.

Seriously, I often find myself thinking how lucky I am to be surrounded by such amazing, intelligent, fun, understanding, caring individuals. Today the inspiration for my thanks comes from my friends Michelle and Kelley, who each gave me a holiday music CD last year. "Xmas Michelle Style" and "Cool Yule" have turned this rainy, cold, somewhat blah New England day into an all-out jam fest and a bright, wonderful smile has remained on my face despite the work I have to do and the weather that tries to bring me down. Don't go looking for these CDs in stores, folks, they're one-of-a-kind originals, made for me by friends. By cool friends. Friends that come from a crop of the best friends on the planet. =)

So, today, a shout out goes out to all my fantabulous friends, who are amazing and probably don't hear that nearly enough from me. BIG HUGS TO YOU ALL!

music: well, CLEARLY..."Xmas Michelle Style" and "Cool Yule"...DUH.

Lost Item: Reward Offered

2004-12-06T14:25:00.000-05:00

I've lost something (other than my mind) recently, and I was wondering if you guys had seen it, or had an idea of where I put it, because it's something pretty big...and I'm kind of shocked at how it got away from me. What I'm looking for is the month of November. I remember October, and now it's suddenly December. What?!?!? Hmmm...seriously, I've definitely misplaced November, and if you could help me find it, I could really use that time. The reward? Well, um...I'm a woman of meager means, but I promise to flash you my nicest, biggest, most thankful, girl-next-door smile! I can also offer pretty good hugs. Or a stream of really bad knock-knock jokes you know already. That's about it. Anyway, any help would be appreciated.

I had a pretty good weekend. The emotionality of last week sort of faded away Saturday morning and things are looking up again. I went to a lovely holiday party Saturday night and had fantastic conversation full of laughter and was shocked to find that it was 1am when I finally found a clock. Good times, indeed. I also got to share a nice afternoon Sunday with Aaron and Megan. Aaron and Megan are always a good time...my favorite thing about our afternoon was that we didn't really need any sort of "activity" to do...we could just sit around and chat. The sign of good, quality folks. Plus the weather was nice, so it was good to get out of the apartment and take a break from watching movies about grief and death.

What's that? Why am I watching movies about grief and death? I'm so glad you asked. I'm taking a bereavement course this fall (I may have mentioned this in a previous post) and my final project is investigating how popular culture represents death and grief in film. The subtext of this project is the idea that you can use film therapeutically to help children talk about their own grief...while they may have a hard time articulating their thoughts about their own feelings, they can easily talk about a movie character, and then transition. In any case, I wanted to pick three films that represented different kinds or different sides of grief. Thus far, I have chosen "Moonlight Mile" to represent how families and groups of people relate during death; and I have chosen "My Life" to tell the story of dealing with your own death. Both of these stories focus on adults dealing with death, and so for my third story I wanted to select something with children dealing with death...but there's not a lot out there. M. Night Shyamalan, whose movies I have thoroughly enjoyed thus far, made a movie in 1998 about a boy who goes searching for God after his grandfather dies to make sure his grandfather is OK. However, it was evidently fairly unsuccessful and so is pretty hard to find here in Boston. I think, instead, I'm going to pick "Courage Under Fire," and abandon the idea of children in film alltogether, opting for post-traumatic stress disorder instead. PTSD is still relevant, good for using with teens who have been in a severe car accident and lost a loved one in the experience.

Here is my issue, and why I brought all of this up: Why aren't there many movies showing an honest portrayal of grief? I don't mind if you tie it up with a nice ribbon in the end and give a sense of moving forward...I tend to be a "every cloud has a silver lining" kind of girl anyway, and I also think that there comes a point in everyone's grief process where you finally wake up, and that day is better than the last, simply because it's not yesterday. And you have a few of those in a row, and suddenly you've had a week of them, and while it might not be all roses and rainbows, you can get to a point where you look back at the grieving process and realize that you may not ever be done mourning, but you're in a much better place than you used to be...and to me that's the nice ribbon wrapped around the process. So it's alright that Hollywood puts a happy face on at the end...but there really aren't a lot of movies that show true grief: where it's not easy, and there are moments of laughter mixed in with the sadness at really socially-deemed inappropriate moments, and the guilt that follows those instances, and things like that. How it's really confusing and difficult, and just when you think you're done, something strangely small brings back all the pain as if it were new and fresh all over again. Sure, some people grieve in the stages we're all familiar with: the classic Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance movement, but many of us don't do those stages in that order, or even do all of them at all. The best movie I've seen recently representing adult grief was "In the Bedroom." It's not something I would use with children, and there comes a moment in the movie where I feel the people in the movie start to act on thier grief in inappropriate ways, but what really overwhelmed me about the movie was that there was almost no background music. The silence in the fights and between the dialogue was eerie, and it made me really uncomfortable...which was what I thought was so brilliant about the movie. The thing is: grief is uncomfortable. It's not easy, and people who are grieving and even those around them are uncomfortable. And this movie really got that point across. In any case, for all you young filmmakers out there, you can use this idea. Represent grief more realisitically. You can wrap it up nicely in the end if you want, but be original. End rant.

In other news, it snowed here in New England today. Not much, just enough to dust everything and make it all pretty. It didn't even stick to the roads...just perfect! I ran around for about 5 minutes catching big snowflakes on my tongue this evening before class. Of course, it prompted me to finally admit it is the holiday season and tonight I am busting out the collection of holiday CDs. I also hear that BNL has a new holiday album, complete with three Hanukkah songs and other such lovely things. If anyone has heard the album, let me know your thoughts. I love BNL...so I'm pretty sure I'll love the album.

And that, my friends, is all she wrote.

music: "Remember Who I Am" (album) by Girlyman...the band that opened for the Indigo Girls the last time I saw them...their sound is incredible...awesome harmony and great acoustic music. I highly recommend them.

Commence the random acts of public silliness!

2004-12-02T20:20:00.000-05:00

OK. Here's the deal:

I've been looking at my blogs. I have decided that I have been far to introspective and gloomy for my own good. Things have been way super-stressed lately, and they are ever-so-slightly easing up now, and I'm thinking I'm gloomy because a) I've been stressed, and b) I've clearly been neglecting my friends.

So, to that end, I'm going to lay off the blog this weekend. I think. I'm going to do work, and when I'm trying really hard not to work (read: all the time) I'm going to email my friends; which is something I'm already horrible about keeping up with and I think the blog might be affecting that slightly. I'm going to actively pursue being a good friend.

In the meantime, I won't leave you hanging with nothing to do. My friend Adam has got a really funny blog you can check out, and I'll also leave you with an experiment.

That's right, an experiment. It sounds, well, iffy...but if you're into making a bunch of adults act like total 5 year olds in public without much effort, this kind of research is for you. I've been conducting this experiment informally for the past two or so years, and I'd love for you to continue my research, take it further out into the world, and report back to me. Here goes:

What you do is you stick your tongue out and blow a raspberry. You know, the sound that is often spelled Thbbbbbt! Now, do it in front of a mirror. Does your top lip move or your bottom lip? Everyone does this with one lip or another. I am a top lipper. What are you? Now that you've figured out your lip-ness, here are two further activities: 1) try to do it with the other lip. It's difficult! and 2) Make other people do this, preferably in large groups. It's just unique enough and silly enough that nobody's ever heard of it and everybody is curious to try it out. It's fantastic - groups of usually well-behaved adults blowing raspberries in a multitude of public places because curiosity has gotten the better of them.

OK, do research. Report back (there is a comments feature, you know). Read Adam's blog, and all the others I have previously linked. You'll survive just fine for a few days without me. See you on the flip side!

Life imitating Easy Listening Music?

2004-12-01T22:34:00.000-05:00

It's been an emotional few days, folks.

Quote of the moment, aptly describing my feelings all day today, and probably all day for the next...well, who knows?...comes from none other than the easy-listening fav, Don Henley. That's right, I said Don Henley. Song title: "The Heart of the Matter."

What are these voices outside love’s open door
Make us throw off our contentment
And beg for something more?
I’m learning to live without you now
But I miss you sometimes
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, I’m learning again
I’ve been tryin’ to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter

You know once you are told you can't do something, it's the first thing you want to do? Just like when you're told not to think about something, it's all you can think about? That's where I'm at. And I'm weak, folks. I've made an agreement I'm trying really hard to keep, but it's really difficult. I'm actually kind of cheating right now, in this blog right here, but you know what? I don't care. I think it would eat me up inside if I didn't cheat a little. This agreement is a tough one.

Anyway...on to bigger, better, and less cryptic things. I FINISHED MY INTERNSHIP TODAY!!!!!!! Yee-ha!!! No more driving 45 minutes to an hour and a half (depending on weather and traffic) to find out yet again that what I had planned to do that day is cancelled! Now, don't get me wrong...I loved this internship and I learned SO much there...but the drive is a bit much to find out your schedule has changed yet again. I'm going to enjoy my full-time status here in Boston again.

Also....I've been thinking. I *love* Sex and the City. It's like an addiction. I could watch episodes over and over again. I own Seasons 1 through 5 on DVD. Is this because I'm single? Do married women like this show? I can really, really relate to this show...I find a little piece of me in each of the main characters, which is why I like it so much...but would I be able to relate if I weren't single? If "Sex and the City" was not an option for me? Or would it be something to remind me of my single days, a reminiscing show of sorts? Since I have no experience but my own, I have no answers to this question. Just a random musing I thought I'd share.

And, on that note...I think I'm done for the night. I'm slightly distracted as I write tonight: somewhat by my emotional ride the past few days, and somewhat by Sex and the City on TBS. But I'm sendin' out the love, folks. Open your hearts up and catch it while you can....

We've all met him...

2004-11-29T13:20:00.001-05:00

His name is Murphy, and he's got some really consistent but frustrating laws. Would you believe that last night I actually waited until I got all my homework done before posting? I did...and it was a long, beautiful, thought-provoking post, too. And somewhere in the mess of looking for a link near the end, I accidentally shut down the browser window without posting and now it's lost. Damn you Murphy! The one time I actually post after my work! Argh....In any case, I'll try to recreate it now, because I feel the topic is an important one.

(And, in case you were wondering, yes there is work I should be doing right now, but I'm not taking any chances. Clearly if I don't post to procrastinate Murphy steps in with his silly laws and ruins all my work.)

So my Thanksgiving break was a lovely one indeed. I think for the first time ever (including college and high school) I was able to balance seeing friends, family, getting work done and relaxing. Plus I got back on Saturday so I was able to slowly reacclimate myself to the land of the Red Sox...although it's been pretty warm here, so not much adjustment was needed.

Thanksgiving Day to me always brings to mind elementary school pageants and projects with Pilgrims and Indians, of peace and harmony. But the truth is, for a lot of people, Thanksgiving is a bitter reminder of what we as settlers have done to the American Indians over the past 200+ years. Now, before I get going I'd like to say that I don't know as much as I should on this topic, so I'm going to say my piece, and if you want to correct me, or contradict me, I'm open to that. You can even tell me I shouldn't shoot my mouth off before I do the research. But there's still a First Amendment, and as long as that's in place I'm going to speak my mind.

I took a multi-cultural children's literature class last spring and we spent a week reviewing literature that tries to represent American Indian (as I read this week they prefer to Native American) culture. I was shocked at some of the things we found. Our base book was one found on Oyate that reviewed common children's literature and pointed out the good and the bad examples, and why they were good and bad books. One book that was recommended against was The Indian in the Cupboard, which is a book I enjoyed growing up, and a story which was made into a popular children's movie in the recent past. The problem? It only shows one side of the American Indian life. It provides a skewed vision of American Indians as warrior/savages, and does nothing to represent the rich, diverse culture they have. Many children's books and movies are the same way. The book we used also had some essays written by American Indians, expressing their rage at the discrimination and persecution they face, especially at Thanksgiving each year.

My question is this: how has this gone on for so long without raising an outcry from the American public? How did we get through the Civil War, the Civil Rights Movement, the Women's Liberation Movement and look over these injustices? We've taken these people's land, their rights, and we misrepresent them in common culture. How is it that it doesn't get more press? Why don't our children learn more about the American Indian culture and history? Why don't they learn more about the injustices we've done and think of ways how to fix them? I just don't get it...I was in the dark for so long about the whole affair, but ignorance is not an excuse. How do we start to fix this? To right the wrongs?

If you think I switched paragraphs because I have an answer, you're wrong. I don't. I guess one of the reasons more attention isn't paid to this is because it involves a willingness to really accept that one has been wrong, and be able to live with that to start to be right again. It's easy, but it's hard. It's like my friend Michelle's blog about helping the homeless: why don't we? It only takes a second of your time to stop and ask the homeless person their name to give them some dignity, to make them real, to find out what it is they really need...but most people don't because they don't want to face the guilt of having comfort and food and a warm house when this person is out on the street. It's easy, but it's hard. And I'm not saying I'm exempt from this, nor am I saying we should go out and invite all the homeless into our houses, or that stopping to talk to them is going to solve all homelessness...but it's a start, you know? You have to start somewhere. And it's the same with the American Indian culture: you have to start somewhere. I don't have time to read right now, but maybe I'm doing my part by bringing this to light and one of you will want to read more, and maybe next time you'll speak up when someone glosses over this issue unknowingly. Maybe you'll approach your child's reading teacher when she assigns The Indian in the Cupboard and offer her the Oyate website. Or maybe you'll go to Oyate yourself and read up on what you can...it's a start. Or maybe you'll do nothing...who knows?

So, that's not as eloquent as yesterday's version, but it's the same stuff basically. I'm not saying I'm right, or you're wrong...I'm just commenting on something that seems to be widely ignored, and pondering how it got that way and how it stays that way.

In other, lighter, and totally unrelated news, Target has adult sized footie pajamas! No lie. I looked for them online so I could link you to them, but I got nothin'. But I saw them with my own eyes in the store yesterday, so they're out there! They're flannel, and they look so warm and cozy. Go out and get yours now and satisfy your inner child!

OK, it's time to get some semblance of work done before the girls I nanny for wake up from their nap. Remember: it's OK to be thankful, but also be conscious at the same time. And get some footie pajamas for your inner child!

Bringin' it back....

2004-11-25T02:00:00.000-05:00

OLD SKOOL STYLE....

I almost forgot I promised Emily I'd do this:

I'm going to start a trend here...I want all of you to start using the word "Grody." (Pronounced "Groh-deee." Meaing: ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. Gross! Can be used in reference to someone who has "The Cooties.")

That's right. It's a fun word, and YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO USE IT.

Grody.

GRODY!

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! Grody!

Hop on the trend today, before it comes a bandwagon and you're just passe.

Spin Cycle

2004-11-25T01:26:00.000-05:00

Today I have been awash in memories.

This morning I woke up, and I was fairly cold as my dad is a polar bear and keeps the house pretty frigid. (OK, maybe it's because my parents program the heat to turn down during the day when nobody's here...it's pretty economical really, but I'm still going to blame my dad, who is indeed a polar bear.) I went to look for a sweatshirt in my old room (now "The Lounge," also known as the cat's room...only bearing slight resemblance to my bedroom from high school) and opened my old closet. It was as if a football team of memories tackled me. I found old prom dresses, old halloween costumes, old favorite outfits. I found a long-sleeved tshirt from when UVA won their 4th NCAA title in a row in men's soccer. I found sweatshirts from when I went shopping for colleges before senior year and bought a sweatshirt at the places I fell in love with (one in particular: Revelle, a sub-college of UCSD, where I got in but ended up not attending). I probably stood there for a half hour just filtering through the old clothes, recovering old memories and smiling.

For dinner this evening, my mother invited her pastor to dine with us. Elizabeth is very cool, with a great sense of humor, and we ended up getting my parents to reminisce about their wedding. This in turn led to a photo album being brought out, and I got to see pictures of my parents when they were younger than I am today. They told stories from before I was born...one that stands out in particular is when my mother went to the emergency room for a fish bite. That's right, a fish bite. My dad had a piranha, and my mom had an unfortunate incident while cleaning the fish's tank...and subsequently became the first person in the history of the University of Virgina's hospital to be treated for a fish bite. Can you just imagine? My mom calls my dad and says, "Honey, I'm going to the hospital. The fish bit me." Unless you know that my dad is crazy and has some sort of man-eating fish, it sounds a little bizarre. I suppose this explains some things about me, though, eh? =)

I rounded out the evening at a local brewery/restaurant with some friends from high school. Some of these friends I've recently reconnected with in Boston, some I've kept in touch with over the years through college and these years of "real world" life you hear so much about. But, as is the case in a small town like Charlottesville, there were others we knew there. I'm 99% sure my best friend from elementary school was there with her sister, but I was too timid to approach her and say, "Hey, Audrey, what's been happening the past 17 years?" I mean, REALLY, where does the conversation go after that? There were a few guys from our high school there as well, some who recognized me and some who didn't...one who was a few years behind me and once offered me $20 to make him his own personal batch of the cookies I made the boys' lacrosse team each week...he tried to pseudo-hit on me. Very amusing.

In the end, today was about reminiscing, I suppose. Can you really avoid things like that when you go home? Do I have any profound thoughts to share? Probably nothing that you haven't seen in a movie or read in a book or thought yourself...what a difference 10 years makes...so much changes and yet, then again, so little at the same time.

I guess one of the things I've really come to grips with this year is just this simple fact: whatever happens today, there will always be a tomorrow. If you can really embrace this fact, and all that it entails, the little stuff just slides away. I lost my purse at the hospital a few weeks ago, and was an hour away before I realized it. In the end, I tried several ways to find it through contacting people on the phone, and when those efforts proved fruitless I just surrendered to the fact that there was nothing I could do that day...I would be there tomorrow to check it out, and in the meantime, why let it ruin my evening? I'm not saying I can do this with everything, but I'm trying really hard to gain that ability.

Tonight, I'm going to take all these memories from the day, and as I sleep they'll mix in the spin cycle and create their own special meaning for me. In the meantime, have a happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

Hey Y'all!

2004-11-23T20:36:00.000-05:00

That's right, folks, I'm back in the South. Let me address a couple of things here:

First, YES, Virginia is the South. It lies South of the Mason-Dixon line, and it also held the capital of the Confederacy for much of the Civil War.

Second, NO, I don't have an accent. But I can sort of pick up a twang depending on the accent of those around me. And I *do* use the word "y'all", which is indeed an official dictionary-sanctioned word.

Alrighty. So I'm home for Thanksgiving, and I totally can't wait for my parents' stuffing! It's not like what many people think of as a "traditional" stuffing - it's potato-based rather than bread-based. From what I understand, this is a cultural thing, more seen in the north (both my parents are from the NorthEast.) I honestly don't care where it comes from, as long as it ends up in my belly! It's SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO good. AND, my mom puts it in mushroom caps and covers them with cheese and broils them, and then I AM IN HEAVEN. My mouth is watering just thinking of it. Mmmmm.....

In the meatime, it's not all eating, dear readers. There's also drinking to be done! Hee hee! Fear not, I also have massive amounts of work to do, so the drinking will not be too heavy. But drinking does involve hanging out with old friends, an activity I can never get enough of, so the next few days will be full of bliss - family, food, friends. Oh, and free laundry.

I had a whole slew of ideas to blog about but I left them on my desk in Boston, so for now I'll give you the one I can think of and I'm certain more will pop up as I try really hard not to work on the projects due when I get back. My interesting tidbit for the day is this:

Did you know that cashmere comes from goat hair? Who knew? I just find it interesting: cashmere is such a luxury item, you'd never associate it with a scraggly creature such as a goat. No offense to goats everywhere, I think they're really cute and all, but I've had the opportunity to pet one before and they feel nothing like cashmere. And they're pretty common, although not as hairy as sheep...is it some sort of special processing that makes the hair from goats so soft and luxurious, and thus because of the special processing it becomes expensive? Boggles the mind...I'll attribute this fascinating information to my source: my string cheese that comes individually wrapped in packages with trivia questions on them. Nerdiness and nutrition...what's better than that? I highly recommend them to everyone.

And now it's time for the aforementioned drinking. Rest well, eat well, live well and love well over these next few days. I'll post when I can....

Sure there's something else you should be doing, but why?

2004-11-21T12:03:00.000-05:00

In the spirit that originated this blog, I offer up two wonderful ways to procrastinate today:

1. Clean. If you're not in the mood to clean your stuff, I have loads of laundry to do, an apartment that needs vacuuming, and a bathtub that needs cleaning (I took care of the other bathroom stuff earlier this week in another fit of procrastination). You're welcome to come clean my stuff.

2. Go play an online game. I find Yeti Sports to be particularly addicting. If you have more time and are feeling especially cerebral, find an online crossword (I like the Boston Globe's online version) and do that.

In the meantime, I'll be reading. Happy dawdling!

Rest in Peace

2004-11-20T13:26:00.000-05:00

You know how they say that the elderly often die after major events, as if they were waiting for something important and once it happens, they let go of the will to live because they are now satisfied? It's the reason that the number of elderly deaths spikes after the holidays, or after graduation (waiting to see their grandchild be the first to graduate college in their family) etc. I'd love to see how many elderly Red Sox fans have passed away in the past month. I'd also love to see if there is a spike in the number of births to Red Sox Nation members nine months from now. =)

Is it nap time yet?

2004-11-20T10:58:00.000-05:00

Good morning lovely readers!

Last night my plan was to come home, make some dinner, and read read read. What happened was I came home, made some dinner, and slept slept slept. People don't believe me when I tell them I'm a champ at sleeping but it's true. Last night I effectively went to bed at 7, and got up...no, dragged myself out of bed at 10 this morning. And I'm ready for a nap now, it's 11....is it too early?

Ah, but there's work to be done, and if I want to reduce the aforementioned stress level, I must get down to it. But, of course, the fact that there's work to be done at all motivates me to blog, and so I will update you on the week you've missed.

First...two shout outs in the blog today: one to Aaron, a friend from high school with whom I have recently reconnected. He's put my link as a sidebar on his blog (not sure how he found out I have a blog...I'm still getting around to telling everyone I have one), which to me is a big honor. Aaron's so incredibly intelligent...I love reading his blog because it makes me feel smarter and it inspires me to think. The fact that he at all would admit to being a part of what I put here (really now...pee like a racehorse?) humbles me. Another shout out to my friend Laura, who has been a dear and wonderful twin to me since our middle school days. I say any two girls who can be friends through middle and high school and still like each other at the end of those crazy "Mean Girls" days are bound to be friends for life. Laura started her blog based on reading mine (I think) and in case you weren't counting, that's TWO blogs I've inspired now. Hee hee! I find little ways to feel important. =)

Alright, what happened this week? It's all a blur. Some time spent in Providence at the internship, some time spent at work with the twins, some time spent at school, and some time spent working on various projects. Dull, dull, dull. Things I thought about this week: oh, they are aplenty. Let's see....

I have been thinking a lot about loss and bereavement this week. This is normal, as I'm taking a bereavement course at school. My professor is well known about the country (and possibly the world) as one of the leaders in bereavement/grief/death and dying work. I was really excited to take the course, as my work with children and families in hospitals inevitably leads to some sort of experience with loss or death. In the beginning of the course I was frustrated, as I didn't feel like I was learning ways to help people with their loss, which in the end is all I really want to do. Again, it's the liberal, bleeding-heart, want-to-save-the-world girl in me, but I hate to see people in pain and not be able to help. To not be able to do the right thing. But Paul (my prof) said something this week that was so profound, and has really got me thinking even more, and has lessened my frustration with the class: he was talking about the different ways that people teach bereavement courses, and most of them teach lots of theory, and give lots of steps and answers, and then let you go out into the world and try it. Paul, instead, spends a semester teaching us how much we DON'T know...because it's only when we understand how much we don't know that we are really willing to sit and listen to someone experiencing loss, and that's really the best way to begin to help anyone. This explains why I leave every class with more questions than answers, and I spend a lot of time thinking about it. And it got me to thinking...I wanted to leave this class feeling comfortable with helping people with their grief: I'm a planner, and before I encounter difficult situations I like to have an idea of the things I can offer, the things I can do, how to help. What I've realized is that it will never feel comfortable helping someone with grief - it just shouldn't, grief is not an easy thing - and so the faster I realize that, the faster I realize that maybe in this situation it's better to have more questions than annswers, and the faster I realize that each situation is different and I'll learn how to handle each one as I wade through it with the bereaved...the better a practitioner I'll be. Slowly but surely, I'm getting there.

I have also thought a lot about love and relationships this week. Again, I'm a planner. I like things to proceed in an A, B, C, D order in my life, and when I'm at B I like to have a vague idea of what D is going to look like. I find myself in a relationship now where I *think* we're at B, but I'm not sure and I definitely couldn't tell you if C is next or if it's X. And I can't tell you what anything in the future looks like. This scares me to death. Am I the only one who likes to have an idea of where things are going? Is that just a little too neurotic? In the end, does it matter? It's me, and I can't change that really. I can just learn how to deal with it a little better. Being so stressed hasn't helped the clarity of our situation, and to top it off my Bit of Stuff is also incredibly hosed. So we talk about it a fair amount, we try to plan times to be together that don't add any stress to our lives (e.g., don't cost much because we're both broke or don't go to places that are so loud we leave feeling like we didn't really spend any time together since our time together is sparse these days), and we plow through. But it's something that weighs on my mind a great deal.

It hasn't been an entire week about death and stress, readers. Fear Not. The girls I nanny for, despite being in their terrible 2s full force, are still ridiculously cute and loving. Nothing beats the feeling of sitting down and having two beautiful children run to you and throw themselves on you giggling. I also had an interview for a potential internship placement for the spring on Friday and I think it went well. I'm getting to a place where I feel really good about my skills in the Child Life profession, and so interviews are now fun...as I'm not worried that there will be a question I'm unsure how to answer anymore. I love feelings like that: little signs that you're coming into your own in something. Sometimes it's when you're single and you just have those moments where you think "I rule! I rule, just as I am." (Reference Michelle's blog.) Sometimes it's those interview moments where you just think, "I'm definitely the person for this job, and I know it and I can tell that these people are realizing it too." The funny thing is, when I was younger, I thought that you got past a certain age and didn't have these moments anymore, that you just became an adult and then existed. Does anyone else remember that? When you saw the future as a little kid, you saw a certain age past which you had the job you wanted, the family you wanted, you knew everything...that was what being an adult was, right? Oh, it makes me laugh to think of it. How did I not realize how boring that would be? Even if I had the job I wanted, the family I wanted...there's still so much more I'd have to work for. Some call it never being happy with what you've got, I call it a constant search to improve, to be better. Because if we don't have that, well...what else is there? Stagnant, boring lives. Be it a quest for more knowledge, better skills at something, the best mac and cheese you've ever had...whatever it is, there should always be something to which you reach. If you get to it, reach higher...again...the subject of the blog: ClosER to Fine.

OK, enough of the preaching. That's my week as I remember it. Lots of introspection, lots of hazy memories and not at all enough sleep. However, my books are whimpering as I haven't paid nearly enough attention to them of late, so I'm off to appease the academic gods.

music: an assortment of melodies by Taylor Hayward. check out his music - free to download - here. Ambient classical music. GOOD, good stuff.

Putting it to rest

2004-11-19T13:39:00.000-05:00

I love, love, LOVE that all of you tried so hard to figure out how to answer my frivolous question. It's great! Several of you have commented on my stress level...it's still there, but hopefully after spending a weekend nerding out and just doing lots of work, it will drop some. This also means I'll probably post a few times, since we all know how much I love to avoid work! Hee hee!

In any case, speaking of work, there are some things to be done now, so we'll save posting for later....but I wanted to inform all of you who worked on that question that I've found a site that could possibly have finally made my life complete.

This is the site that I found answers similar to the ones offered up by my loyal and wonderful readers.

Lots of interesting info there. No clue how reliable it is, but most of the answers seem to make sense. Or, at least more sense than a bad pun in a high school reunion potato factory dream. (Thanks, Em. That CRACKED ME UP! The rest of you, if you want in on the joke, read the comments!) In any case, most of you who offered up answers matched with the page:

Horses really only pee in their stalls, because they are uncomfortable peeing anywhere else. So show horses and racehorses are often out of their stalls, and may feel an urgent need to urinate until returned to their stall. The alternative is the reference to offering racehorses a diuretics to help them lose weight, making them pee a lot.

So there you go! Fear not, since you're so good at assignments, I've got all sorts of crazy quandries like this, so I'll give you some more in the future. In the meantime, I thought I'd put the issue to rest and ease all your minds, since you're obviously as neurotic as me. =) Have a lovely weekend...will blog again soon.

Changing the world, one blog at a time....

2004-11-15T23:54:00.000-05:00

OK, I wasn't going to post because I'm totally stressed out this week, and right now what I need to be doing is going to bed so I don't lose any more sleep than I already have, but I'm so, SO, SOOOOOOOOOOOO very excited about the ideas that are coming through on this blog. Keep it up, my socially conscious readers! Seriously, if there are other issues you'd like to discuss, I'm totally open to this being a forum. I'll tell you what I think on issues you want to discuss, and you can tell me I'm an idiot or I'm brilliant. =)

Anyhow, I'm going to go from high-brow, solving-the-world's-problems blogging to low-brow, this-is-really-random-but-I'm-curious blogging for tonight, as I don't have time to really get into much else:

Anyone know where the phrase "I have to pee like a racehorse" comes from? Is there something special about the way racehorses pee? Is it super-fast? Or just a lot? And is it more than other horses? What in the heck is that phrase all about?

I'm serious, folks. No lie - I can be introspective and somewhat deep, or I can be silly and have frivolous thoughts such as the one above. Today we're on the Silly. Tomorrow? Who knows?

On a side note, check out my friend Michelle's blog. She's got some fun stuff to say, too...especially for the late 20's single crowd. I can relate to some of her single-ton thoughts. Not now, per se, since I am involved with someone, but just in general. Anyway, she rules, and you should check her out.

Don't expect too too much in the way of posts this week. I'm barely keeping my head above water right now, so although this is a great procrastination tool, I'm past the point of being able to procrastinate. But I just couldn't help posting tonight, as I was feeling so inspired by the level of responses. I love that some of you really want to help me change the world, and some of you just love my sense of humor. That's great, because it's what this blog is all about: my thoughts, my personality. Sometimes it's proactive political/societal change, sometimes it's all about fun. YAY! By the way, if you're so inspired, feel free to let your friends know about the blog, even if they don't know me. If you think they'd be struck by something I've posted, and especially if you think they'd be so struck they'd want to respond, I'm all about sparking conversation and connection.

OK, just a few more things to do and I'm hitting the hay (she said as her phone rang). Have a lovely week!

music: Music? Who has time for that? I'm too hosed to take time to find a CD and put it in my computer and pull it up and play it. I can't even be bothered to find something on my Itunes to put on repeat. However, I *did* just get the special edition CD of Howie Day's "Stop All the World Now," so I'm yearning for the time in just a few short hours when I will be able to put it into my car CD player and bask in the loveliness that is Howie Day as I drive the crazy commute to my internship.

For a good laugh....

2004-11-14T21:21:00.000-05:00

And to make any of you out there who are disheartened by the election results feel better...visit these sites:

First, go to

www.sorryeverybody.com

then visit

www.apologiesaccepted.com

Maybe Bush is uniting the world more than we thought! Or, just in a way we hadn't thought of, at least. =)

Procrastination is your friend.

2004-11-14T19:23:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the Sunday edition of Kristy's blog! This blog is brought to you by the mountains of reading I should be doing right now. =)

I'm both very pleased and humbled at the same time right now. I sparked some conversation with my blog! Not just conversation, either, but intelligent conversation! I'll grant you it's a small one, really between my mom, myself, and some other anonymous person, but it's fun to put stuff out there and get a response.

I'd like to make a request before I continue, however....if you're going to comment, and you're not already signed up for blogger, please add a line in your "anonymous" comment to let me know who you are. If I don't know you, feel free to just give your first name and maybe something fun like what state you're in. I'm not looking to hunt you down or stalk you or anything, but it would be nice to have a name to respond to. And it would be kind of fun to know where people are reading my blog!

Alrighty...so I'm going to start with addressing my comments from the last blog. My mom had a good point when she pointed out that we can't disqualify people for having sub-standard housing...but maybe we could work harder to provide them with up-to-code housing. Actually, it shouldn't take having a child to get quality housing, that actually would exacerbate the issue here in that some folks would have children just to get better housing. That's Not OK. So then we really should address the housing issue, which is an entirely different problem than the parenting issue, and makes it more complex to solve. So how do we address that? I don't know. I'm not trying to imply that I, with my minimal political science knowledge, can solve the problems of our nation with my tiny little blog. But it *is* an issue: there are so many kids that develop allergies, asthma, and other diseases from living in housing that has mold, bug infestations, and other such sub-standard issues. I just feel bad because that's not their fault...they're suffering from something entirely preventable. It also might not be their parents' fault...wow, I'm starting to get overwhelmed with the idea of trying to make the world a better place. Maybe that's why I like what I do: I make my difference in small, manageable, immediate-results ways. It's very gratifying. Anyhow, I also liked the comment about poverty:

Whether it be poverty of spirit, poverty of those things needed for basic survival, or poverty of knowledge (how to parent), we need to find a way to stop it so that we can focus on those who are our future.

That's really deep. And so very, very true.

As to my other anonymous comment...I am humbled by your thoughts. You're very right in assuming that I don't have kids (maybe you know me?), and I'm also completely unaware of what it's like to have children. It must be incredibly difficult. I had a week this summer where I was babysitting for twin toddlers long hours (breakfast to bed), and I was exhausted. And I didn't have to get up with them in the middle of the night, or go to class, or do really much of anything else. It frightened me a great deal, really, because I want children and I just can't imagine how people do it. Some people tell me that it's different when it's your own children, that you find the strength easier, but still...WOW. I have such respect for parents. I *love* the idea of time management classes to go with the parenting classes. But again, how many classes can we ask expecting parents to take, considering they are likely already to be tired and busy with their own lives? Again, these problems aren't going to be solved in two blogs, or really probably not in this blog alone, but it's interesting the questions that are getting raised.

My previous blog wasn't really in reaction to the abuse I had heard about in the Child Protection Team meeting...that's a whole different issue with different needs to fix. It just reminded me of the whole idea of how to teach people to be better parents, which is something I've thought about a lot since I started working with children. It's a touchy subject, and a hard one to solve, because when addressing it you have to make sure you make objective comments, realizing that your way of parenting is not always the best one. Each person has their own parenting techniques, and just because I don't like someone else's, say, it doesn't mean that they are wrong. And I'm not trying to knock all parents...I know that it must be tough...and nobody's perfect. Everyone has off days, everyone takes different shortcuts. And that's OK. Really, in my heart, the best way to be a great parent is to really really love your kids. When your intentions are in the right place, most of the other stuff usually falls into place.

So, anyway...I feel like I might have more questions than answers now, but I'd still love to hear more thoughts. Or, if there's something else you'd rather discuss, bring that up in the comments feature too! And the key here is to keep questioning, and keep bouncing ideas off of others, and sharing ideals and ideas and someday, as a group, maybe we can all come up with an adequate solution. Thanks for reading and taking me seriously! =)

In other news...the weekend was GREAT! Birthday parties, hanging out with friends old and new, and yes, Mom, smooching. I didn't come out on top in the bowling party, but I held my own, and in the second game I did better than the first, so I'm pleased. It ended up being candlepin bowling, which I've never done before. I've been duck-pin bowling, which is similar in that you use a small ball and the pins are not normal size...but candlepins are tall and skinny and duck pins are mini-sized regular pins. And in duck pin bowling you still only get two turns, it's basically mini-regular bowling. But in candlepin bowling, you get THREE turns, and you don't clear in between turns, so you can use those you've already knocked over to knock other pins over. That is, you can do that if you have skills, which I don't really have apparently. A good time was had by all, and if you're in the Boston area I can highly recommend the Milky Way Lounge and Lanes in Jamaica Plain. Also good is the food from Bella Luna in the same building. The pizza was deeeeeeeeeeeeee-licious! A good time was had by all. Happy Birthday to Michelle!

I think that's enough of yet another novel for today. My reading calls, and I think I can no longer ignore it. In the meantime...share the love and hug someone you care for this week. =)

music: "Keep Me in Your Heart" by Warren Zevon, "Hole in the World" by the Eagles, "Unwell" by Matchbox Twenty (for the philisophical, world-problem-solving section); "Where is the Love?" by the Black Eyed Peas feat. Justin Timberlake (for the personal update)