The day my parents dropped me off at college, we got the car unloaded and my loft constructed in under 30 minutes. As we were leaving my room, we ran into a man in a suit, obviously taking an official tour.
Suit: Hi there. What do you do here?
Dad: (shaking hands) I’m getting rid of a freshman. What do you do here?
Suit: I’m Joe Blow, the new President of This University.
Dad: Well, I guess she’s your problem now, then.
After my parents left, I found a card in with my books. I opened it to find a condom and 35¢ taped inside with a note: “In case of emergencies. Love, Dad.”
Yep. That’s my dad.
He’s very smart, impatient, active, funny and fun. He has no patience with laziness, messiness, whining, or waiting.
He’s sweet, romantic, devoted, hard-working, argumentative, and INFURIATING. My mother is so lucky to have found such a wonderful husband, she’s also a SAINT for having put up with him for so many years.
It’s Father’s Day and while I spoke to him on the phone, I really wish I were there with him today and I hope he knows that I love him SO MUCH. We’ve definitely had our moments in the past but I’ll never be able to repay him for all the love and support, the laughter and the tears, and – yes – the money that he’s given me over the years.
I love you, Daddy! You’re the BEST! Happy Father’s Day!!!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Saturday, June 14, 2008
A Flood of Support
Fifteen years ago we had the Great Flood of 1993.
I had spent the first part of the summer in Northern Minnesota where it rained constantly and the thermometer never quite made it over 73ยบ. I made it home to Des Moines in mid-July, just in time to experience the worst flooding the midwest had seen in 150 years.
Many parts of Des Moines lost both water and electricity for nearly two weeks during this time. To make matters worse, it was a typical Iowa summer: hot and humid.
Ten years prior to this, my parents had built the home that they still live in now. At the time, my dad was adamant that we choose the highest lot in the subdivision and that no landscaping be done to level-off our property. The result is the world's worst driveway. The damn thing's got a 12% grade but is only as long as every other driveway in the world of suburbia. I once managed to get TWO cars stuck in snow drifts at the bottom of that driveway in the course of an hour, but that's a whole other story.
Anyway, for the first time since we'd moved there, my mother, siblings, and I had to acknowledge that our father may have been onto something in choosing that lot. While every other basement in a two mile radius suffered some degree of flooding, ours stayed high and dry.
We were also very lucky that our neighborhood never lost water or electricity. There was, of course, a conservation ban in place ("If it's brown, flush it down; If it's yellow, let it mellow!") but all in all, our family suffered very little.
My cousin Tom's wife Jane was about 20 months pregnant at this point and they lived in an area that had lost both water and electricity. My parents invited them to move in with us until the crisis was over.
But the thing I remember most about the Floods of '93 was July 12. The levee at the Water Works facility which supplied water to several western suburbs, was in danger of failing. So, my family and I drove over to the local mall and climbed into a big yellow school bus which shuttled us over to the Water Works, where we joined THOUSANDS (I tend to exaggerate, but I'm not now, some estimates put the numbers of volunteers that day over 30K) of others to sandbag.
I still get teary thinking about all those people coming together. People came from all over. It was truly a remarkable experience.
And now the midwest is flooding again. Cedar Rapids, Iowa City, and Ames are all under water. And just this morning I heard that the Riverwalk levee in Des Moines, near North High School, was breached.
My heart goes out to those who are suffering through this disaster and I wish them all the best during this tragedy.
I had spent the first part of the summer in Northern Minnesota where it rained constantly and the thermometer never quite made it over 73ยบ. I made it home to Des Moines in mid-July, just in time to experience the worst flooding the midwest had seen in 150 years.
Many parts of Des Moines lost both water and electricity for nearly two weeks during this time. To make matters worse, it was a typical Iowa summer: hot and humid.
Ten years prior to this, my parents had built the home that they still live in now. At the time, my dad was adamant that we choose the highest lot in the subdivision and that no landscaping be done to level-off our property. The result is the world's worst driveway. The damn thing's got a 12% grade but is only as long as every other driveway in the world of suburbia. I once managed to get TWO cars stuck in snow drifts at the bottom of that driveway in the course of an hour, but that's a whole other story.
Anyway, for the first time since we'd moved there, my mother, siblings, and I had to acknowledge that our father may have been onto something in choosing that lot. While every other basement in a two mile radius suffered some degree of flooding, ours stayed high and dry.
We were also very lucky that our neighborhood never lost water or electricity. There was, of course, a conservation ban in place ("If it's brown, flush it down; If it's yellow, let it mellow!") but all in all, our family suffered very little.
My cousin Tom's wife Jane was about 20 months pregnant at this point and they lived in an area that had lost both water and electricity. My parents invited them to move in with us until the crisis was over.
But the thing I remember most about the Floods of '93 was July 12. The levee at the Water Works facility which supplied water to several western suburbs, was in danger of failing. So, my family and I drove over to the local mall and climbed into a big yellow school bus which shuttled us over to the Water Works, where we joined THOUSANDS (I tend to exaggerate, but I'm not now, some estimates put the numbers of volunteers that day over 30K) of others to sandbag.
I still get teary thinking about all those people coming together. People came from all over. It was truly a remarkable experience.
And now the midwest is flooding again. Cedar Rapids, Iowa City, and Ames are all under water. And just this morning I heard that the Riverwalk levee in Des Moines, near North High School, was breached.
My heart goes out to those who are suffering through this disaster and I wish them all the best during this tragedy.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Characters Behaving Badly
It drives me nuts when my characters get away from me. Half-way through my very first novel (during NaNoWriMo several years ago) my two main characters up and left the country before I knew what was going on.
People look at me funny when I tell them that I have no control over my own characters. I’m the one behind the keyboard, after all. But I get into a groove when I’m writing. Something almost trance-like happens when I really get going and the characters sometimes get away from me.
And it’s happened again. The main character of my urban fantasy story just up and did exactly what I didn’t want her to do. She had s-e-x. It’s totally PG-13, but still!!!! I didn’t want her to have sex. Not yet. Not in this story.
I blame Rational. He got me all worked up on the boards a couple days ago and on my commute home, I whipped out the laptop. One thing led to another and now my MC is a raging slutbag. Thanks, lover.
So now I have to decide if I’m going to bin the entire 600-word scene or run with it.
People look at me funny when I tell them that I have no control over my own characters. I’m the one behind the keyboard, after all. But I get into a groove when I’m writing. Something almost trance-like happens when I really get going and the characters sometimes get away from me.
And it’s happened again. The main character of my urban fantasy story just up and did exactly what I didn’t want her to do. She had s-e-x. It’s totally PG-13, but still!!!! I didn’t want her to have sex. Not yet. Not in this story.
I blame Rational. He got me all worked up on the boards a couple days ago and on my commute home, I whipped out the laptop. One thing led to another and now my MC is a raging slutbag. Thanks, lover.
So now I have to decide if I’m going to bin the entire 600-word scene or run with it.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Hard Core
And you’re not hard core
Unless you live hard core
I am officially hard core.
Today I had a filling replaced without novocaine!!!
I was really *really* worried about getting this filling replaced today. (Thank you Angelique, Eneyer, Nova, Rational, Garth and everyone else who sent nice thoughts and fart-prayers my way!!!!)
The thing is, it wasn’t the drill or the evil little pokey bit (umm… it’s called a “probe” EEE) that had me all worked up.
It was the novocaine.
I was terrified of getting that shot. (I’ve never relished getting shots, but I like to think that I’m not a TOTAL baby!)
I somehow managed to convince myself that the moment the needle went in, I would rocket painfully off to La-La Land only to wake up weeks later on the Island of Lost Toys in some horrible persistent vegetative state with a wicked case of Bell’s Palsy. (I watch WAY too much “House”…)
Turns out my dentist was worried about the novocaine, too. He’d gotten some that didn’t have adrenalin in it, but he still didn’t want to use it if he didn’t have to. So he suggested doing the filling au naturale.
And I willingly agreed. Does it count as hard core if you do something out of sheer, mind-numbing terror of the alternative???
Unless you live hard core
I am officially hard core.
Today I had a filling replaced without novocaine!!!
I was really *really* worried about getting this filling replaced today. (Thank you Angelique, Eneyer, Nova, Rational, Garth and everyone else who sent nice thoughts and fart-prayers my way!!!!)
The thing is, it wasn’t the drill or the evil little pokey bit (umm… it’s called a “probe” EEE) that had me all worked up.
It was the novocaine.
I was terrified of getting that shot. (I’ve never relished getting shots, but I like to think that I’m not a TOTAL baby!)
I somehow managed to convince myself that the moment the needle went in, I would rocket painfully off to La-La Land only to wake up weeks later on the Island of Lost Toys in some horrible persistent vegetative state with a wicked case of Bell’s Palsy. (I watch WAY too much “House”…)
Turns out my dentist was worried about the novocaine, too. He’d gotten some that didn’t have adrenalin in it, but he still didn’t want to use it if he didn’t have to. So he suggested doing the filling au naturale.
And I willingly agreed. Does it count as hard core if you do something out of sheer, mind-numbing terror of the alternative???
Chickensh!t
I have to go back to the dentist this afternoon. No big deal, just having a filling replaced.
So why am I scared sh!tless???
I've never had a problem with the dentist before. I actually LIKE having my teeth cleaned. But right now my tummy is doing somersaults. And not the happy kind.
Part of it, I know, is fear over my reaction to novocaine. Last time I nearly passed out when I got the shot. My heart started racing and I broke out in a cold sweat. I would have fainted if my doctor hadn't quickly tipped my seat back.
I know that it was just a reaction to the 2% adrenalin in the novocaine and I know that the doctor is getting me epi-free novocaine this time…. But I'm still scared and that's not like me.
I just keep picturing myself dying ignobly in the dentist's chair, a paper bib around my neck and drool trickling down my chin…
So why am I scared sh!tless???
I've never had a problem with the dentist before. I actually LIKE having my teeth cleaned. But right now my tummy is doing somersaults. And not the happy kind.
Part of it, I know, is fear over my reaction to novocaine. Last time I nearly passed out when I got the shot. My heart started racing and I broke out in a cold sweat. I would have fainted if my doctor hadn't quickly tipped my seat back.
I know that it was just a reaction to the 2% adrenalin in the novocaine and I know that the doctor is getting me epi-free novocaine this time…. But I'm still scared and that's not like me.
I just keep picturing myself dying ignobly in the dentist's chair, a paper bib around my neck and drool trickling down my chin…
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Back to Work
Ah, back to the daily grind.
I spent Monday doing laundry, unpacking, catching up on Topix, and digging my apartment out from under the three metric tons of cat hair that blew in over the past week. Yikes.
Yesterday I set foot in the gym for the first time in over a week. Granted, we did a lot (a LOT) of walking in California, but I ate like I was on vacation. So it was with no small amount of trepidation that I stepped onto the scale.
The verdict: I gained one pound. Not bad.
But it’s back to the “training” schedule for me.
I was a good little girl yesterday. Ate my yogurt and fruit for breakfast and my turkey and spinach on whole wheat with a pound and a half of veggies for lunch, took the stairs to use the restroom two floors up… all that.
And work.
Work was surprisingly bearable. There were, of course, the few minor fires to put out and the looming deadline, but I was pretty proactive this time around and left my lackeys with pretty detailed instructions.
Back to normal.
I spent Monday doing laundry, unpacking, catching up on Topix, and digging my apartment out from under the three metric tons of cat hair that blew in over the past week. Yikes.
Yesterday I set foot in the gym for the first time in over a week. Granted, we did a lot (a LOT) of walking in California, but I ate like I was on vacation. So it was with no small amount of trepidation that I stepped onto the scale.
The verdict: I gained one pound. Not bad.
But it’s back to the “training” schedule for me.
I was a good little girl yesterday. Ate my yogurt and fruit for breakfast and my turkey and spinach on whole wheat with a pound and a half of veggies for lunch, took the stairs to use the restroom two floors up… all that.
And work.
Work was surprisingly bearable. There were, of course, the few minor fires to put out and the looming deadline, but I was pretty proactive this time around and left my lackeys with pretty detailed instructions.
Back to normal.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Home...
I'm happy to be home. I had fun on my trip and I love traveling, but I'm always happy to come home.
.
The trip home was... interesting. I parted ways with my family at the airport in California - they were going back to Des Moines via Dallas and I had a direct flight to Chicago.
.
Had.
.
It was cancelled due to weather.
.
When we found out, my mother got all nervous. "What are you going to do???" she asked, clearly concerned. "I'm going to have them rebook me and take the next available flight."
.
Despite all the trials of the day, I didn't let it bother me. Even when the only flight I could get routed me through Memphis (hey, I'd never been there!) and even when I got the full pat-down-bag-search (I must look shifty) and even when (after sitting in the Memphis airport for two hours) I finally boarded my flight to Chicago and the pilot came on the intercom to say "Welcome to Flight 123 with service to Kansas City..." I kept my spirits up and tried to laugh about it all.
.
And it really was all pretty amusing.
.
And the Gin tonics didn't hurt...
.
;p
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Channeling Rational
OK. So I am not a neat freak. I live alone and I'm not accountable to anyone but me. I’m a decent enough housekeeper, but I don’t get my panties in a twist over a little clutter.
However.
I have been living in a hotel room with the female half of my family for nearly a week now and I’m close to losing my nut. We have a sort of pseudo-suite with two sleeping areas and a small sitting area, a kitchen bar, a patio, and one bathroom. In theory, there’s plenty of room for all of us to cohabitate comfortably.
My mother is fine. She’s lived with my father for 30+ years and has adapted her habits for living with a neatnik.
My sister and her spawn, however…. They drop their clothes on the floor and toss their shopping bags on the chairs and leave empty water bottles and soda cans all over. Argh!!!!
I’m trying to ignore it because, Hey! We’re on vacation!
And there are better things to think about. The 6yo has gotten on my nerves at times, but there's something magical about the look on a little kid's face when she sees a dolphin up close or watches a duck eat her leftover hotdog bun...
:)
However.
I have been living in a hotel room with the female half of my family for nearly a week now and I’m close to losing my nut. We have a sort of pseudo-suite with two sleeping areas and a small sitting area, a kitchen bar, a patio, and one bathroom. In theory, there’s plenty of room for all of us to cohabitate comfortably.
My mother is fine. She’s lived with my father for 30+ years and has adapted her habits for living with a neatnik.
My sister and her spawn, however…. They drop their clothes on the floor and toss their shopping bags on the chairs and leave empty water bottles and soda cans all over. Argh!!!!
I’m trying to ignore it because, Hey! We’re on vacation!
And there are better things to think about. The 6yo has gotten on my nerves at times, but there's something magical about the look on a little kid's face when she sees a dolphin up close or watches a duck eat her leftover hotdog bun...
:)
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Auntie EEE needs a cocktail
I’m on vacation. Yea!!!!
Um.
I’m on vacation with my mother, my sister and my six year old niece.
Um. Yea???
Leg 1: Chicago to Cali
The Cubs are playing in SoCal this week. I learned this when coworkers asked where I was going on vacation and they replied to my answer with “Oh! Are you going to a Cubs game?”
Have they not MET me?
The holding cell… er… the gate at O’Hare had a number of obvious Cubs fans waiting for our flight. Including one girl wearing that vile “Horry Kow” t-shirt.
When I arrived, my niece, who is cute as a button normally, was in the middle of a tantrum and managed, in fits and starts, to get steadily worse as the day wore on.
At one point, my sister told her “If you sit still and don’t say anything for five minutes, Aunt EEE will give you a dollar.”
I acted shocked, but in truth, I was perfectly comfortable with this. I’m more than willing to empty my wallet in the name of familial accord. I have been completely amenable to buying this child’s love since before she was born and let’s face it: she’s not MY kid. I can ruin her all I want.
That said, Auntie EEE has no patience for a child’s passive-aggressive games. If I’m going to bribe her into compliance, I’m going to hold her strictly to the rules and I’ll even add riders such as “each time you hit your mother/ mess with the window blind / kick the seat in front of you, I’m adding another minute to your time.”
Yeah. Unfortunately, she inherited the ornery gene from her mother. Needless to say that child is no richer than she was when she woke up this morning.
Which was obscenely early. They got up at 4:45am. This is normal for me and my saintly mother, but not for my sister and her adorable spawn.
By the time we got to our hotel (I’ll upload a pic from our patio when I get a chance) the child was ready to go over all Vesuvius. It all accumulated into the mother of all meltdowns and ended with all of us back in our hotel by 8 pm local time (10pm Chicago time), ready to crash.
I’m going to need more alcohol.
Um.
I’m on vacation with my mother, my sister and my six year old niece.
Um. Yea???
Leg 1: Chicago to Cali
The Cubs are playing in SoCal this week. I learned this when coworkers asked where I was going on vacation and they replied to my answer with “Oh! Are you going to a Cubs game?”
Have they not MET me?
The holding cell… er… the gate at O’Hare had a number of obvious Cubs fans waiting for our flight. Including one girl wearing that vile “Horry Kow” t-shirt.
When I arrived, my niece, who is cute as a button normally, was in the middle of a tantrum and managed, in fits and starts, to get steadily worse as the day wore on.
At one point, my sister told her “If you sit still and don’t say anything for five minutes, Aunt EEE will give you a dollar.”
I acted shocked, but in truth, I was perfectly comfortable with this. I’m more than willing to empty my wallet in the name of familial accord. I have been completely amenable to buying this child’s love since before she was born and let’s face it: she’s not MY kid. I can ruin her all I want.
That said, Auntie EEE has no patience for a child’s passive-aggressive games. If I’m going to bribe her into compliance, I’m going to hold her strictly to the rules and I’ll even add riders such as “each time you hit your mother/ mess with the window blind / kick the seat in front of you, I’m adding another minute to your time.”
Yeah. Unfortunately, she inherited the ornery gene from her mother. Needless to say that child is no richer than she was when she woke up this morning.
Which was obscenely early. They got up at 4:45am. This is normal for me and my saintly mother, but not for my sister and her adorable spawn.
By the time we got to our hotel (I’ll upload a pic from our patio when I get a chance) the child was ready to go over all Vesuvius. It all accumulated into the mother of all meltdowns and ended with all of us back in our hotel by 8 pm local time (10pm Chicago time), ready to crash.
I’m going to need more alcohol.
Accountability
So, you all know by now that I've been trying to lose weight. And succeeding, though at a glacial pace.
I honestly think I would have thrown in the towel by now if it weren't for my trainer, Sharon. She's not especially inspiring or perky (THANK GOD!!!!) and she hasn't told me much that I didn't already know. But she kicks my ass once a week and gives me something I don't have otherwise: accountability.
I think maybe it's a function of being a single, independent woman. Don't get me wrong, I love living alone. I love the peace and quiet. I love knowing that if there's a mess it's my own mess. I don't have to feel guilty about it and no one is going to harp on me to clean it up (oooh, I can just hear Rational gnashing his teeth!!!) Conversely, if I get the place sparkling clean (*snort*), there's no one to undo my hard work.
But the flipside of being independent and self-sufficient is that I'm not accountable to anyone else. Who am I hurting when I gain five pounds? Me. Not hurting anyone else. Just me. It's a victimless crime.
So, that's what I'm really paying Sharon for: a little accountability. She drags my ass onto the scale every friday, asks me what I've been eating, what sort of exercise I've done. She's not judgemental, but having to say it out loud is a good motivator for me.
And through her I've come to realize that the one person in the world that I SHOULD be accountable to is ME. And after I'm done working with Sharon, I'm the one who's going to have to hold myself accountable. I think it'll always be something I struggle with, but no one else is going to put me first. I have to do it.
So far, I've lost ten pounds in three months. Slow slow slow. And without Sharon, I probably would have quit weeks ago. But at my recent re-evaluation, I found I've GAINED six pounds of muscle. So I've actually lost SIXTEEN pounds of FAT.
Yea me!!! And an extra big YEA!!! to Sharon!
I honestly think I would have thrown in the towel by now if it weren't for my trainer, Sharon. She's not especially inspiring or perky (THANK GOD!!!!) and she hasn't told me much that I didn't already know. But she kicks my ass once a week and gives me something I don't have otherwise: accountability.
I think maybe it's a function of being a single, independent woman. Don't get me wrong, I love living alone. I love the peace and quiet. I love knowing that if there's a mess it's my own mess. I don't have to feel guilty about it and no one is going to harp on me to clean it up (oooh, I can just hear Rational gnashing his teeth!!!) Conversely, if I get the place sparkling clean (*snort*), there's no one to undo my hard work.
But the flipside of being independent and self-sufficient is that I'm not accountable to anyone else. Who am I hurting when I gain five pounds? Me. Not hurting anyone else. Just me. It's a victimless crime.
So, that's what I'm really paying Sharon for: a little accountability. She drags my ass onto the scale every friday, asks me what I've been eating, what sort of exercise I've done. She's not judgemental, but having to say it out loud is a good motivator for me.
And through her I've come to realize that the one person in the world that I SHOULD be accountable to is ME. And after I'm done working with Sharon, I'm the one who's going to have to hold myself accountable. I think it'll always be something I struggle with, but no one else is going to put me first. I have to do it.
So far, I've lost ten pounds in three months. Slow slow slow. And without Sharon, I probably would have quit weeks ago. But at my recent re-evaluation, I found I've GAINED six pounds of muscle. So I've actually lost SIXTEEN pounds of FAT.
Yea me!!! And an extra big YEA!!! to Sharon!
Monday, June 2, 2008
Christmas in F-ing July
I hate Hate HATE Christmas in July. Or June. Or March. Or September. Or any month that is not generally associated with the actual Christmas holiday.
Verizon has this obnoxious commercial that involves F-ing carolers. Carolers.
Every time it comes on, I dive for the remote, the "Mute!" ringing through my head. But by the time I manage to frantically, gropingly grab the clicker and hit the all-powerful "Mute" button, it's too late.
Far, far too late.
And for the rest of the night I have "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" bouncing around my brain.
Kill me. Kill me now.
Verizon has this obnoxious commercial that involves F-ing carolers. Carolers.
Every time it comes on, I dive for the remote, the "Mute!" ringing through my head. But by the time I manage to frantically, gropingly grab the clicker and hit the all-powerful "Mute" button, it's too late.
Far, far too late.
And for the rest of the night I have "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" bouncing around my brain.
Kill me. Kill me now.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Ten things I know but still need to learn
1. Adding a handful of spinach to a double Hungry-Man portion of shrimp fettuccini alfredo does not make it healthy.
2. Putting on my sweats and sports bra does not equate to “working out”
3. I am not always right
4. Orange is one of those colors that looks good on other people
5. Most people don’t like having their grammar corrected in conversation
6. Not everyone loves 80s music
7. Mustard stains
8. Cutting my own hair when I’m already late for work is never a good idea
9. I can not sing
10. I’m not cool, but I’m cool with that
2. Putting on my sweats and sports bra does not equate to “working out”
3. I am not always right
4. Orange is one of those colors that looks good on other people
5. Most people don’t like having their grammar corrected in conversation
6. Not everyone loves 80s music
7. Mustard stains
8. Cutting my own hair when I’m already late for work is never a good idea
9. I can not sing
10. I’m not cool, but I’m cool with that
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