No, not Texas Rangers, or a herd of that thing I used to get around when I had a broken leg...
I just wanted to link to some people participating in different fundraising walks.
Ruth and Kathy are finishing their walk today. They've made their goal, but if you want to give, go here and follow the links to their walk sites... or read the latest newsletter... or watch the video again...
My friend Leigh is walking in the Walk for PKD. To read more about PKD and her walk, click here.
Debbie, who I have only spoken to via e-mail since... I don't remember the last time we talked in person, actually. It might have been in the 80s. Anyway, I've known her since seventh grade... where was I? Oh yeah, Debbie is walking in the Alzheimer's Association Memory Walk in St. Louis. Click here to visit her walk page.
Oh, and that lack of memory joke in the last paragraph wasn't meant to be a bad Alzheimer's joke.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Where Have You Been?
Don't ask!
Okay, the short version is: Pre-Algebra Curriculum. Although that isn't an answer to the posted question, it explains why I've been so computer-shy these last... um... 50 days or so.
Every time I'd sit down to do ANYTHING at the computer, I'd be reminded that this curriculum mess isn't fixed yet.
As for the mess, seriously, don't ask. We can leave it at "It's done now" and move on. I will say that it got so bad that when I finished Thursday night/Friday morning at 12:15, I seriously considered going out for a drink or ten.
Anyway, on top of the "not posting" mess, I'm also having a "what the heck is going on with my e-mail mess", which involves me not being able to successfully send e-mails abou 95% of the time.
So, after this, I'm going to pop over to a blog or two to explain that this explanation is here, and them I'm going to go out for a drink or ten. I kid. I'm actually going to... I don't know what I'm going to do.
My website is updated to July, finally. I hope to update it to August sometime mid-week, and finally be in September next weekend.
Oh, the poem is posted, and the results from the 2nd poll are as follows:
People who have known me for less than a year: 0/7 (0%)
People who have known me a year or over, but less than five years: 1/7 (14%)
People who have known me over five years, but less than twenty years: 2/7 (28%)
People who have known me twenty or more years: 4/7 (28%)
People who don't know me: 0/7 (0%)
The lesson here is that only seven people who read this thing take part in the polls... and that's assuming somebody didn't take the poll more than once.
Anyway, the poll should be changed now (unless you read this in the five minutes after I post it... in which case, come back in ten minutes).
I have thoughts to post which I will post later. And news to post which I will post later.
Later!
Okay, the short version is: Pre-Algebra Curriculum. Although that isn't an answer to the posted question, it explains why I've been so computer-shy these last... um... 50 days or so.
Every time I'd sit down to do ANYTHING at the computer, I'd be reminded that this curriculum mess isn't fixed yet.
As for the mess, seriously, don't ask. We can leave it at "It's done now" and move on. I will say that it got so bad that when I finished Thursday night/Friday morning at 12:15, I seriously considered going out for a drink or ten.
Anyway, on top of the "not posting" mess, I'm also having a "what the heck is going on with my e-mail mess", which involves me not being able to successfully send e-mails abou 95% of the time.
So, after this, I'm going to pop over to a blog or two to explain that this explanation is here, and them I'm going to go out for a drink or ten. I kid. I'm actually going to... I don't know what I'm going to do.
My website is updated to July, finally. I hope to update it to August sometime mid-week, and finally be in September next weekend.
Oh, the poem is posted, and the results from the 2nd poll are as follows:
People who have known me for less than a year: 0/7 (0%)
People who have known me a year or over, but less than five years: 1/7 (14%)
People who have known me over five years, but less than twenty years: 2/7 (28%)
People who have known me twenty or more years: 4/7 (28%)
People who don't know me: 0/7 (0%)
The lesson here is that only seven people who read this thing take part in the polls... and that's assuming somebody didn't take the poll more than once.
Anyway, the poll should be changed now (unless you read this in the five minutes after I post it... in which case, come back in ten minutes).
I have thoughts to post which I will post later. And news to post which I will post later.
Later!
Finally, That Poem
ODE TO THAT FEELING OF MY FEET LEAVING MY WORK SHOES AND GOING INTO MY SANDALS
How can I do justice to the feeling of bliss
Inspired by the simple act of stepping out
Of shoes (whose painful nature others might dismiss)
Into sandals? I suppose I could simply shout
From the nearest mountain top, or perhaps a hill,
But the words I'd shout escape me. It's late, as well.
This peacefulness accompanied by no small thrill
Is not unlike, after twenty-five years of Hell
Finding, right beside you, where it's been all along
The tallest, coolest glass of water, just for you.
And, as you slowly drink it down, you hear a song
Played in your head say, "Through these years you always knew
That right beside you, waiting for your open eyes
Was peace, and joy, and love. But you kept your head turned,
Letting what you couldn't help work toward your demise.
I've been waiting here, while inside you this fire burned.
But now, you see. And, home at last, you find relief.
And now, you see that darkest night has led to dawn.
And now, you know that all along you had belief
That all would be well when you had your sandals on."
Copyright 2007, Mark Travis Riggs
How can I do justice to the feeling of bliss
Inspired by the simple act of stepping out
Of shoes (whose painful nature others might dismiss)
Into sandals? I suppose I could simply shout
From the nearest mountain top, or perhaps a hill,
But the words I'd shout escape me. It's late, as well.
This peacefulness accompanied by no small thrill
Is not unlike, after twenty-five years of Hell
Finding, right beside you, where it's been all along
The tallest, coolest glass of water, just for you.
And, as you slowly drink it down, you hear a song
Played in your head say, "Through these years you always knew
That right beside you, waiting for your open eyes
Was peace, and joy, and love. But you kept your head turned,
Letting what you couldn't help work toward your demise.
I've been waiting here, while inside you this fire burned.
But now, you see. And, home at last, you find relief.
And now, you see that darkest night has led to dawn.
And now, you know that all along you had belief
That all would be well when you had your sandals on."
Copyright 2007, Mark Travis Riggs
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Thinking of Dining Out?
Sorry for the radio-silence... but I'm crazy busy right now, and I'm only breaking it for a second here to remind (or tell for the first time) that Ruth & Kathy's two-day fundraiser via all KC area Uno Chicago Grill restaurants is tomorrow and Thursday. Read the info here: http://kathyruth3day.tripod.com/fundraising.html.
You'll need to bring a certificate, which you can get by clicking the link at the bottom of the page I've linked to in the last paragraph.
I tried sending out an e-mail this morning, but apparently something majorly messed up over at my ISP. They say they're working on it.
I'm back to this fun all-nighter I think I'm about to have to pull. Ta.
You'll need to bring a certificate, which you can get by clicking the link at the bottom of the page I've linked to in the last paragraph.
I tried sending out an e-mail this morning, but apparently something majorly messed up over at my ISP. They say they're working on it.
I'm back to this fun all-nighter I think I'm about to have to pull. Ta.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Wait, There's A Journey?
First, the poll has closed, and it looks like 5 were for it, 1 against it, and 2 voting for free will.
I'm not sure whether I should be thrilled or upset that 8 people voted. I'll go with thrilled, as I can't think of who the 8 would be (did one of you vote twice?).
Second, I realize that as a first personal reaction to what I said in that last post, job one will be to get the plank out of my own eye. So begins the process of me identifying who I may have shooed (or even thought needed to be shooed).
I'll have the poem finished within the week! Now vote in the new poll!
I'm not sure whether I should be thrilled or upset that 8 people voted. I'll go with thrilled, as I can't think of who the 8 would be (did one of you vote twice?).
Second, I realize that as a first personal reaction to what I said in that last post, job one will be to get the plank out of my own eye. So begins the process of me identifying who I may have shooed (or even thought needed to be shooed).
I'll have the poem finished within the week! Now vote in the new poll!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Should They Stay or Should They Go?
First: Don't forget to take the poll found at the right, if you haven't already taken it. Details in the post below.
Second... a warning: Christ may be mentioned often in this post. Read it if you dare, person that I'm thinking of (and I know you know who you are).
When I was thirteen (I don't know if this is an actual thirteen, because really it's a "somewhere around thirteen," which includes thirteen; it's just that, barring the lengthy explanation, it's quicker to say/type "thirteen") I was asked to leave Christ alone. I was told Christ did not want me hanging around. I was told that I was making the place look bad. In short (too late), I was told, "Get out. Christ don't like your kind 'round here."
Nobody actually said that to me. I think it's very seldom said. Like good Christian works, I think bad Christian works most often happen with deeds, not words... or at least bad Christian works don't happen with words directly spoken to the person they are meant for.
But, from a young age I had no problem with addition, and I could add two twos to get four. I certainly wasn't going to admit I belonged to a group being told "go away". I just began my slow walk away from the table where the eternal Lord's Supper is being continuously served.
I picture me with my head down, not wanting to look back, for fear Christ would be scowling at me because I wasn't going away fast enough--but that's because I have a touch of the dramatic and everything must either be envisioned as a stage play or a film. Or a scene from a book, maybe. Notice I didn't say "a good book", as I'm not sure if this would make a good story.
I didn't have it in me to hate God or Christ just yet. I still had enough fear in me, and the anger had not yet built up. But, the thing is, if you are told Christ doesn't want you around (at least when you're young... and I think it's true if you're older too--especially if you didn't have much of a religious upbringing, or didn't have one that stressed the unconditional love of God), after a while, you start to quietly think something along the lines of, "Oh yeah? Well, f**k him, then!"
Yeah, at first you think it with the f**k and the initial letter of "him" in capital letters. But, with time, they go to lower case. Lower case for the first four letters doesn't mean you're less angry. It means you're more accepting of your anger, and you're more committed to it.
And so it was with me.
And the lower-case "h"? That's there because after a while you find yourself singing "Oh how I hate Jesus, because he first hated me." And you never capitalize the initial "h" of the him you hate.
And so it was with me.
After some time, you just write the whole thing off as a fairy tale, and get irritated with anyone who believes as you used to (or, put another way, still gets to sit at that table you were sent away from). You get to carry around a large Army duffel bag full of anger, and hate, and fear.
And so it was with me.
My anger solidified itself into disbelief in the whole thing when a classmate died. I figured it made more sense to not believe in a God that would allow one of the loved ones to die instead of getting rid of a hated one. It didn't help that I was silently hoping to be gotten rid of. Living without your spiritual anchor is no cup of tea.
And life went on. And on. My anger, combined with my humor, became my "thing". I happily avoided anyone wearing a cross, and made fun of anyone seen walking into a church. More hate and anger and fear for the duffel bag.
Life goes on. Tolerance sneaks in. The anger/hate/fear more often stays in the bag, only needing a slight release every other... I don't know... twelve hours or so.
At least, so it was with me.
Now, if you're lucky--or maybe, if you're able to take advantage of the chance you are given to turn and see Christ beside you, silently waiting for you to realize He has never left your side from the moment you stepped away from the table--you may have a string of events help you realize it wasn't God or Christ that sent you away.
It wasn't God or Christ who said those hateful things.
Seeing that, you may be able to look back at your life and see all the times He has been there, silently holding you, prodding your conscience, helping you up when you thought you couldn't stand anything else.
He has been there listening to your non-stop prayer of anger, you realize.
If you're lucky. If you take advantage of the opportunity that may arise.
And so it was with me.
However, these opportunities are like pennies on the sidewalk. Easy to miss, and not always able to generate the motivation to stop and make the little effort needed to take them. Looking back, I know I've walked by many such metaphorical pennies.
I do, however, tend to pick up any non-metaphorical penny I find on the ground. I don't hold to the whole "tails up is bad luck" thing.
My point (and yes, there actually is one here) is this: Not everybody looks beside them or behind them to see that it wasn't Christ who shooed them away like unwelcome dogs at a barbecue.
And, believe me, there are still people being shooed away. They are being shooed away right now. Somewhere on this planet--in this country, even--I can almost guarantee you someone is feeling that they have been (probably indirectly, mind you) told they are not welcome at that table as you read this. I'm not talking about any particular group of people here (unless you want to label the group as "those being shooed away"). I think you could think of more than three "groups" of people being shooed away from the table, if you tried.
So, the big choices are: Either you are okay with people being told they are not worthy of Christ's love, or you actively make sure everybody knows they are welcome at this table and that Christ's love is for them as well.
Inaction denotes acceptance of the former.
Should they stay? Should they go?
If you accept the latter of the two big choices given--that is, if you believe Christ's love is for everyone, is your congregation actively making sure everyone knows they are welcome at the table?
If not, do you have it in you to start working toward change within your congregation? Or would your efforts be better used in a congregation of like-minded people?
Should you stay? Should you go?
I don't mean to imply either your staying with your congregation or going away to another is the better choice. I'm honestly asking--if you agree the choices are either welcoming someone to stay with Christ or being okay with the fact they're shooed away, and if you feel welcoming is the way to go--how and where can you best be a welcoming force?
If you are of the opinion that there are people Christ doesn't love, and who are not welcome at the table, I don't really have a lot to say to you. I don't mean that I don't want to talk with you, but I'm not sure what I could say to you to change your mind on the topic, and there's nigh unto nothing (the "nigh unto" being there because I have a hard time saying "nothing", and "never" and so on) you can say to change my mind on the topic.
I know this isn't standard fare for my non-blog. It's just something that's been floating around in my head for a couple of days. Last night I discussed it with friends, and I'm wondering if this is something I need to be repeatedly asking everyone sitting at the table with me: Should we be letting those people be shooed away?
Second... a warning: Christ may be mentioned often in this post. Read it if you dare, person that I'm thinking of (and I know you know who you are).
When I was thirteen (I don't know if this is an actual thirteen, because really it's a "somewhere around thirteen," which includes thirteen; it's just that, barring the lengthy explanation, it's quicker to say/type "thirteen") I was asked to leave Christ alone. I was told Christ did not want me hanging around. I was told that I was making the place look bad. In short (too late), I was told, "Get out. Christ don't like your kind 'round here."
Nobody actually said that to me. I think it's very seldom said. Like good Christian works, I think bad Christian works most often happen with deeds, not words... or at least bad Christian works don't happen with words directly spoken to the person they are meant for.
But, from a young age I had no problem with addition, and I could add two twos to get four. I certainly wasn't going to admit I belonged to a group being told "go away". I just began my slow walk away from the table where the eternal Lord's Supper is being continuously served.
I picture me with my head down, not wanting to look back, for fear Christ would be scowling at me because I wasn't going away fast enough--but that's because I have a touch of the dramatic and everything must either be envisioned as a stage play or a film. Or a scene from a book, maybe. Notice I didn't say "a good book", as I'm not sure if this would make a good story.
I didn't have it in me to hate God or Christ just yet. I still had enough fear in me, and the anger had not yet built up. But, the thing is, if you are told Christ doesn't want you around (at least when you're young... and I think it's true if you're older too--especially if you didn't have much of a religious upbringing, or didn't have one that stressed the unconditional love of God), after a while, you start to quietly think something along the lines of, "Oh yeah? Well, f**k him, then!"
Yeah, at first you think it with the f**k and the initial letter of "him" in capital letters. But, with time, they go to lower case. Lower case for the first four letters doesn't mean you're less angry. It means you're more accepting of your anger, and you're more committed to it.
And so it was with me.
And the lower-case "h"? That's there because after a while you find yourself singing "Oh how I hate Jesus, because he first hated me." And you never capitalize the initial "h" of the him you hate.
And so it was with me.
After some time, you just write the whole thing off as a fairy tale, and get irritated with anyone who believes as you used to (or, put another way, still gets to sit at that table you were sent away from). You get to carry around a large Army duffel bag full of anger, and hate, and fear.
And so it was with me.
My anger solidified itself into disbelief in the whole thing when a classmate died. I figured it made more sense to not believe in a God that would allow one of the loved ones to die instead of getting rid of a hated one. It didn't help that I was silently hoping to be gotten rid of. Living without your spiritual anchor is no cup of tea.
And life went on. And on. My anger, combined with my humor, became my "thing". I happily avoided anyone wearing a cross, and made fun of anyone seen walking into a church. More hate and anger and fear for the duffel bag.
Life goes on. Tolerance sneaks in. The anger/hate/fear more often stays in the bag, only needing a slight release every other... I don't know... twelve hours or so.
At least, so it was with me.
Now, if you're lucky--or maybe, if you're able to take advantage of the chance you are given to turn and see Christ beside you, silently waiting for you to realize He has never left your side from the moment you stepped away from the table--you may have a string of events help you realize it wasn't God or Christ that sent you away.
It wasn't God or Christ who said those hateful things.
Seeing that, you may be able to look back at your life and see all the times He has been there, silently holding you, prodding your conscience, helping you up when you thought you couldn't stand anything else.
He has been there listening to your non-stop prayer of anger, you realize.
If you're lucky. If you take advantage of the opportunity that may arise.
And so it was with me.
However, these opportunities are like pennies on the sidewalk. Easy to miss, and not always able to generate the motivation to stop and make the little effort needed to take them. Looking back, I know I've walked by many such metaphorical pennies.
I do, however, tend to pick up any non-metaphorical penny I find on the ground. I don't hold to the whole "tails up is bad luck" thing.
My point (and yes, there actually is one here) is this: Not everybody looks beside them or behind them to see that it wasn't Christ who shooed them away like unwelcome dogs at a barbecue.
And, believe me, there are still people being shooed away. They are being shooed away right now. Somewhere on this planet--in this country, even--I can almost guarantee you someone is feeling that they have been (probably indirectly, mind you) told they are not welcome at that table as you read this. I'm not talking about any particular group of people here (unless you want to label the group as "those being shooed away"). I think you could think of more than three "groups" of people being shooed away from the table, if you tried.
So, the big choices are: Either you are okay with people being told they are not worthy of Christ's love, or you actively make sure everybody knows they are welcome at this table and that Christ's love is for them as well.
Inaction denotes acceptance of the former.
Should they stay? Should they go?
If you accept the latter of the two big choices given--that is, if you believe Christ's love is for everyone, is your congregation actively making sure everyone knows they are welcome at the table?
If not, do you have it in you to start working toward change within your congregation? Or would your efforts be better used in a congregation of like-minded people?
Should you stay? Should you go?
I don't mean to imply either your staying with your congregation or going away to another is the better choice. I'm honestly asking--if you agree the choices are either welcoming someone to stay with Christ or being okay with the fact they're shooed away, and if you feel welcoming is the way to go--how and where can you best be a welcoming force?
If you are of the opinion that there are people Christ doesn't love, and who are not welcome at the table, I don't really have a lot to say to you. I don't mean that I don't want to talk with you, but I'm not sure what I could say to you to change your mind on the topic, and there's nigh unto nothing (the "nigh unto" being there because I have a hard time saying "nothing", and "never" and so on) you can say to change my mind on the topic.
I know this isn't standard fare for my non-blog. It's just something that's been floating around in my head for a couple of days. Last night I discussed it with friends, and I'm wondering if this is something I need to be repeatedly asking everyone sitting at the table with me: Should we be letting those people be shooed away?
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Take My Survey!
First of all, I've had a pretty great day!
Yes, I'm shocked about that, too. Actually, not really all that shocked. But... well, I'm sure there's some word in some dictionary that means what I'm feeling, but I don't know what it is.
Anyway, I closed at P.J. tonight, and when I opened the passenger door and kicked off my shoes and stepped into my sandals, I thought, "Oh man, I love that feeling. I should write a poem about how much I love that feeling. Or, maybe write an "Ode To That Feeling Of My Feet Leaving My Work Shoes And Going Into My Sandals""
Well, the title is over at the left of this post... I could have let you read it there. Duh.
And then I thought it would be fun to use my surveymonkey account to make a survey about it, and let people vote on whether or not I should do this, and maybe let them vote (should they choose I SHOULD do this) on whether or not I use some sort of standard form with a recognizable rhyme scheme, or maybe be more free-form about it.
Which seemed like a very cool idea at the time, but apparently my computer and/or surveymonkey.com (and if there was a place to bet on it, my money would be on my computer being the problem) decided it was not to be.
Luckily, I can at least ask the first part of the question, and now I have!
So please, respond! You have until midnight Friday!
Yes, I'm shocked about that, too. Actually, not really all that shocked. But... well, I'm sure there's some word in some dictionary that means what I'm feeling, but I don't know what it is.
Anyway, I closed at P.J. tonight, and when I opened the passenger door and kicked off my shoes and stepped into my sandals, I thought, "Oh man, I love that feeling. I should write a poem about how much I love that feeling. Or, maybe write an "Ode To That Feeling Of My Feet Leaving My Work Shoes And Going Into My Sandals""
Well, the title is over at the left of this post... I could have let you read it there. Duh.
And then I thought it would be fun to use my surveymonkey account to make a survey about it, and let people vote on whether or not I should do this, and maybe let them vote (should they choose I SHOULD do this) on whether or not I use some sort of standard form with a recognizable rhyme scheme, or maybe be more free-form about it.
Which seemed like a very cool idea at the time, but apparently my computer and/or surveymonkey.com (and if there was a place to bet on it, my money would be on my computer being the problem) decided it was not to be.
Luckily, I can at least ask the first part of the question, and now I have!
So please, respond! You have until midnight Friday!
Monday, July 16, 2007
When I Last Added A Post (A Few Thousand Years Back)...
Well, the weekend went differently than expected... which is to say I wasn't expecting anything in particular, except that I wasn't sure what was going to happen, and that translated to I expected new experiences, but not much beyond that.
And, as I plan to be processing the weekend until the day I die, I'll just leave it at that for now.
Well, except to say that saying it was a very good weekend is an understatement.
How was your weekend?
And, as I plan to be processing the weekend until the day I die, I'll just leave it at that for now.
Well, except to say that saying it was a very good weekend is an understatement.
How was your weekend?
Thursday, July 12, 2007
In Case Publishers' Clearinghouse Comes Looking For Me:
I'm going to be out of communications range until Sunday afternoon.
If you need me, practice patience.
If it's some sort of emergency, do what I would do if you were out of communications range and I absolutely had to get in contact with you: go all Nancy Drew. Or Hardy Boy. Or Bobsey Twin. And I don't know if that's how you spell "Bobsey". I haven't read any of aforementioned series. Really, I go more Encyclopedia Brown than anything, but it sounds funnier to say I'm going all Nancy Drew.
Well, it sounds funnier to me, anyway.
See you Sunday!
P.S.: Picked up the car today! Seriously!
If you need me, practice patience.
If it's some sort of emergency, do what I would do if you were out of communications range and I absolutely had to get in contact with you: go all Nancy Drew. Or Hardy Boy. Or Bobsey Twin. And I don't know if that's how you spell "Bobsey". I haven't read any of aforementioned series. Really, I go more Encyclopedia Brown than anything, but it sounds funnier to say I'm going all Nancy Drew.
Well, it sounds funnier to me, anyway.
See you Sunday!
P.S.: Picked up the car today! Seriously!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Okay, Seriously...
The strangest thing happened today. I'm not sure what to make of it. I don't know if I should take it as a sign of impending doom, or that there's always hope, or that maybe life can turn on a dime to a positive direction, or what.
Plan... I don't even know what letter I'm at now. Plan Double-Z (just to be safe) fell through yesterday--that's Plan Double-Z in my list of plans to get wheels. I took thirty seconds or so to be morbidly depressed about it, then decided to just do something insane.
Often I get mailings from credit card companies, car companies, loan companies, and other sorts of send-mailings-out sorts of companies, and they serve the purpose of providing clutter until such a time I think to throw them away. A day or two ago I got one from this car dealership. Actually, I got two from two car dealerships. One looked slightly more reputable than the other, but my thought was that even if either was reputable, I'm sure my credit is so awful that I'd never have a chance.
Well, after my thirty seconds of morbid depression, I got giddy and decided as joke I'd take the slightly-more-reputable-looking flier and see about getting a car. They apparently have lots of older-model cars (so sayeth the flier) that they are making incredible deals and giving credit to any yahoo that shows up--or they're pre-approving any yahoo, but that doesn't mean that yahoo's credit has been accept (or so sayeth the fine print).
So, I vowed to go to the car loan website the following morning (that would be this morning) and enter in all the information. It would at least kill some time, as I've reached the end of Season Five of the X-Files, and don't have the movie, and thus am in a holding pattern where that show is concerned.
I filled out this relatively simple online form, and then went on to check school e-mail and otherwise kill time online.
At 1:30, my home phone rang a few times. My caller ID downstairs doesn't work (or the phone that had caller ID doesn't, rather) and I didn't want to run upstairs to see who it was. I figured if it was important, they'd leave a message.
The phone rang again just a few minutes later, so curiosity got the best of me and I went upstairs to see what was going on.
As it turned out, it was just coincidence. The first phone call had nothing to do with the second. The second phone call was someone from the dealership saying he needed to talk with me.
I called the place and asked for the guy, and he was all like, "I think we can work something out for you."
Seriously, I said, "Seriously?" And imagine that in the most disbelieving tone I can muster.
So he walked me through what I needed to bring to the dealership (after much gnashing of teeth on my part because I couldn't find anything to write with), and I scheduled an appointment for 6:30.
I called Ruth, told her I think something is rotten in Denmark, but what the heck, I'll try anyway, and asked if she could give me a ride.
I made some phone calls and got the papers he needed to see all in one folder, showered and made myself all purty-full, and had time to read a chunk of the book I'm currently reading.
We got to the dealership, and I was shocked at how legitimate the place looked. I bought my truck from a less-than-legit place several years ago, and I expected this place to look like that. Ruth didn't admit to it until later, but she was wondering where the cars I could get were hiding. I was wondering the same thing.
Ruth went off to run some errands, and I went into the office, where I figured the other shoe would drop any time.
There were about five times I thought for sure the other shoe was on the way to the floor, but it didn't happen.
The sales guy asked me what I'd like to put down, and what I'd like my payments to be. I shared, and I kept trying to emphasize "I need something that works, and won't die for at least a year."
I realize I must have sounded pathetic, but this is where I am right now. Surely he can deal.
So he goes to get an idea of what fits into my budget. I expect it to be something older, maybe a little on the worn side, but mostly running well (as he'd gone into a lengthy spiel about how they do this x-number of checks system on every car, blahdy blahdy blah).
Then he's gone for a way long time (and I keep thinking "ah, he's off getting hit in the head by that other shoe, which he will then bring in to me so he can drop it on the floor in front of me").
Finally, I see him. He's in the parking lot in what appears to be a not-old-at-all and really nice car.
So I start re-evaluating this shoe thing. Obviously this shoe is gonna come from somewhere I hadn't anticipated. Perhaps in the form of a too-high monthly payment. Or, at the last minute, some manager comes up and says, "Oh, you're THAT Mark Riggs; please leave now" (and that thought stuck with me for most of the rest of my time at the dealership).
So, salesman guy (I have his card somewhere, but I don't know where right now, and plus I'm in a rush) comes back, has me come outside, and shows me the car.
I don't know what he expected me to do. I'm wearing my most-guarded of my guarded looks, as I know there is a shoe full of potential energy just hanging in the air somewhere.
I looked at it, said "hmm" and "mm-hmm" and "oh" and generally said I thought it was a fine vehicle.
Dig this: 2006. That's the year of the car.
So, he's pausing for me to say something or just take it all in, and I'm thinking he's getting ready to say, "Well, it was totalled three times, and it will need to have the EVERYTHING replaced over the course of the next year," or maybe, "Well, this is what I'd LIKE to get you in, but the payments will be $500+ dollars," or perhaps even, "I just wanted to show you what you can get once you finally build up some credit!" Or, again, maybe the manager would show up and announce they figured out which Mark Riggs I am.
None of those things happened, and he seemed to be expecting some sort of sentence from me, so I lamely examined the sun visor on the driver side, made some comment about it seeming to be a great car, and asked if that slot that was obviously for Compact Discs meant it also had a CD player (he hadn't mentioned that when he mentioned AM/FM radio... not that it would have been a deal breaker, I just felt he expected some comments and/or questions from me).
That whole car bit was very awkward, now that I think about it. I didn't know what were were supposed to do next, and he didn't seem to be ready to move me in the direction of the next step, and even once we were out of the car, it was odd.
Maybe he thought at my age this should be old hat to me. And maybe it should. Whatever.
So, next we go into the main building, where his office is (I'd gone into the Used Cars building originally, because: duh), and we go to someone else's office, because his was being used. He walks me through papers, and says somebody was going to talk to me about the financing, but that they have found someone who would provide the loan (which made my eyes dart around, looking for that shoe again) and they're seeing if they can get others to provide better loans. And on and on and on.
Then he takes me back to the "lounge". The wait here seemed the longest, probably because I'd seen a nice car and hoped I could be driving it one day, whereas before I'd seen the car, the shoe dropping didn't mean that much different than every day life.
Ruth sent me a text to make sure I was alive, so I called her and told her what was going on. I'd already called her from the other building, but at that time I hadn't seen the car. I don't know that I said much to Ruth about the car, as I felt that might encourage the shoe to go from having potential energy to kinetic.
Salesman guy comes back to ask me some questions about my other car, and still no shoe.
He leaves. I'm too tense to even get up to get the remote and turn away from the quasi-baseball that was on the television. I did turn the pages of some entertainment magazine repeatedly.
Salesman guy came back and said finance guy was ready to see me. This was it. The last chance for someone to say, "We didn't realize you were THAT Mark Riggs; get out."
No such thing. The car payments were slightly higher than I'd like, so there was my shoe, but it was more of a kid size 3 than the combat boot I was expecting.
So tomorrow I'll be picking up a 2006 Chevy Cobalt. There's a pic over on STILL: Life if you want to see it.
I went out to Ruth's car, got in, and pointed out the car I'm getting. I could tell she was surprised, as well.
The ride home I put my hands on my cheeks and said, "Seriously, I got that car" about eight times. I got my phone out and couldn't figure out who to tell.
So I have a nice newer car. Newer than I've ever had. Tricia says I must put it in writing here that I will take great care of it. Jhoneric said something similar, but with cuss words. And so it shall be.
Now I can get back to work. Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, I'll make it to my September 28th payday in decent shape, and all will be... well, if not well, it will be more tolerable than usual.
HOORAY! Seriously.
Plan... I don't even know what letter I'm at now. Plan Double-Z (just to be safe) fell through yesterday--that's Plan Double-Z in my list of plans to get wheels. I took thirty seconds or so to be morbidly depressed about it, then decided to just do something insane.
Often I get mailings from credit card companies, car companies, loan companies, and other sorts of send-mailings-out sorts of companies, and they serve the purpose of providing clutter until such a time I think to throw them away. A day or two ago I got one from this car dealership. Actually, I got two from two car dealerships. One looked slightly more reputable than the other, but my thought was that even if either was reputable, I'm sure my credit is so awful that I'd never have a chance.
Well, after my thirty seconds of morbid depression, I got giddy and decided as joke I'd take the slightly-more-reputable-looking flier and see about getting a car. They apparently have lots of older-model cars (so sayeth the flier) that they are making incredible deals and giving credit to any yahoo that shows up--or they're pre-approving any yahoo, but that doesn't mean that yahoo's credit has been accept (or so sayeth the fine print).
So, I vowed to go to the car loan website the following morning (that would be this morning) and enter in all the information. It would at least kill some time, as I've reached the end of Season Five of the X-Files, and don't have the movie, and thus am in a holding pattern where that show is concerned.
I filled out this relatively simple online form, and then went on to check school e-mail and otherwise kill time online.
At 1:30, my home phone rang a few times. My caller ID downstairs doesn't work (or the phone that had caller ID doesn't, rather) and I didn't want to run upstairs to see who it was. I figured if it was important, they'd leave a message.
The phone rang again just a few minutes later, so curiosity got the best of me and I went upstairs to see what was going on.
As it turned out, it was just coincidence. The first phone call had nothing to do with the second. The second phone call was someone from the dealership saying he needed to talk with me.
I called the place and asked for the guy, and he was all like, "I think we can work something out for you."
Seriously, I said, "Seriously?" And imagine that in the most disbelieving tone I can muster.
So he walked me through what I needed to bring to the dealership (after much gnashing of teeth on my part because I couldn't find anything to write with), and I scheduled an appointment for 6:30.
I called Ruth, told her I think something is rotten in Denmark, but what the heck, I'll try anyway, and asked if she could give me a ride.
I made some phone calls and got the papers he needed to see all in one folder, showered and made myself all purty-full, and had time to read a chunk of the book I'm currently reading.
We got to the dealership, and I was shocked at how legitimate the place looked. I bought my truck from a less-than-legit place several years ago, and I expected this place to look like that. Ruth didn't admit to it until later, but she was wondering where the cars I could get were hiding. I was wondering the same thing.
Ruth went off to run some errands, and I went into the office, where I figured the other shoe would drop any time.
There were about five times I thought for sure the other shoe was on the way to the floor, but it didn't happen.
The sales guy asked me what I'd like to put down, and what I'd like my payments to be. I shared, and I kept trying to emphasize "I need something that works, and won't die for at least a year."
I realize I must have sounded pathetic, but this is where I am right now. Surely he can deal.
So he goes to get an idea of what fits into my budget. I expect it to be something older, maybe a little on the worn side, but mostly running well (as he'd gone into a lengthy spiel about how they do this x-number of checks system on every car, blahdy blahdy blah).
Then he's gone for a way long time (and I keep thinking "ah, he's off getting hit in the head by that other shoe, which he will then bring in to me so he can drop it on the floor in front of me").
Finally, I see him. He's in the parking lot in what appears to be a not-old-at-all and really nice car.
So I start re-evaluating this shoe thing. Obviously this shoe is gonna come from somewhere I hadn't anticipated. Perhaps in the form of a too-high monthly payment. Or, at the last minute, some manager comes up and says, "Oh, you're THAT Mark Riggs; please leave now" (and that thought stuck with me for most of the rest of my time at the dealership).
So, salesman guy (I have his card somewhere, but I don't know where right now, and plus I'm in a rush) comes back, has me come outside, and shows me the car.
I don't know what he expected me to do. I'm wearing my most-guarded of my guarded looks, as I know there is a shoe full of potential energy just hanging in the air somewhere.
I looked at it, said "hmm" and "mm-hmm" and "oh" and generally said I thought it was a fine vehicle.
Dig this: 2006. That's the year of the car.
So, he's pausing for me to say something or just take it all in, and I'm thinking he's getting ready to say, "Well, it was totalled three times, and it will need to have the EVERYTHING replaced over the course of the next year," or maybe, "Well, this is what I'd LIKE to get you in, but the payments will be $500+ dollars," or perhaps even, "I just wanted to show you what you can get once you finally build up some credit!" Or, again, maybe the manager would show up and announce they figured out which Mark Riggs I am.
None of those things happened, and he seemed to be expecting some sort of sentence from me, so I lamely examined the sun visor on the driver side, made some comment about it seeming to be a great car, and asked if that slot that was obviously for Compact Discs meant it also had a CD player (he hadn't mentioned that when he mentioned AM/FM radio... not that it would have been a deal breaker, I just felt he expected some comments and/or questions from me).
That whole car bit was very awkward, now that I think about it. I didn't know what were were supposed to do next, and he didn't seem to be ready to move me in the direction of the next step, and even once we were out of the car, it was odd.
Maybe he thought at my age this should be old hat to me. And maybe it should. Whatever.
So, next we go into the main building, where his office is (I'd gone into the Used Cars building originally, because: duh), and we go to someone else's office, because his was being used. He walks me through papers, and says somebody was going to talk to me about the financing, but that they have found someone who would provide the loan (which made my eyes dart around, looking for that shoe again) and they're seeing if they can get others to provide better loans. And on and on and on.
Then he takes me back to the "lounge". The wait here seemed the longest, probably because I'd seen a nice car and hoped I could be driving it one day, whereas before I'd seen the car, the shoe dropping didn't mean that much different than every day life.
Ruth sent me a text to make sure I was alive, so I called her and told her what was going on. I'd already called her from the other building, but at that time I hadn't seen the car. I don't know that I said much to Ruth about the car, as I felt that might encourage the shoe to go from having potential energy to kinetic.
Salesman guy comes back to ask me some questions about my other car, and still no shoe.
He leaves. I'm too tense to even get up to get the remote and turn away from the quasi-baseball that was on the television. I did turn the pages of some entertainment magazine repeatedly.
Salesman guy came back and said finance guy was ready to see me. This was it. The last chance for someone to say, "We didn't realize you were THAT Mark Riggs; get out."
No such thing. The car payments were slightly higher than I'd like, so there was my shoe, but it was more of a kid size 3 than the combat boot I was expecting.
So tomorrow I'll be picking up a 2006 Chevy Cobalt. There's a pic over on STILL: Life if you want to see it.
I went out to Ruth's car, got in, and pointed out the car I'm getting. I could tell she was surprised, as well.
The ride home I put my hands on my cheeks and said, "Seriously, I got that car" about eight times. I got my phone out and couldn't figure out who to tell.
So I have a nice newer car. Newer than I've ever had. Tricia says I must put it in writing here that I will take great care of it. Jhoneric said something similar, but with cuss words. And so it shall be.
Now I can get back to work. Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, I'll make it to my September 28th payday in decent shape, and all will be... well, if not well, it will be more tolerable than usual.
HOORAY! Seriously.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
And Now: Another Rant
I SERIOUSLY despise this VISA ad campaign where the world is this well-oiled machine that can only be screwed up by somebody having the audacity to pay with cash.
First, ain't no well-oiled machine up in here.
Second, shut up, VISA. You're just bein' stupid because when I pay with cash you ain't makin' no money up in here. So there.
Seriously. Hate. Those. Commercials.
So, next time you see one, you can think, "If Mark's watching this, I bet he's cringing!"
First, ain't no well-oiled machine up in here.
Second, shut up, VISA. You're just bein' stupid because when I pay with cash you ain't makin' no money up in here. So there.
Seriously. Hate. Those. Commercials.
So, next time you see one, you can think, "If Mark's watching this, I bet he's cringing!"
Title Lost!
Okay, I've gotten all the pictures back up over at STILL: Life, but, as I mentioned before, the titles of some of them escape me. I don't know how to find a good search engine that might still have a cached version of those pages (July and August's archives) so I can't get the titles exactly right from that potential source. Any help from you folks out in Readershipville would be greatly appreciated.
The first post was July 4, 2006. I know it was something about Dora succumbing to peer pressure, but I don't know how I worded it, or if there was more to it. (Part of the problem with my memory here is that I remember titles I originally rejected for some... and thus am worried that the titles I don't feel "sure" about are rejected titles.)
Anyway, any picture from July 4, 2006 to August 11, 2006 entitled "Title Lost" is a picture I need help with. Any help?
Oh, and I've changed the look a little. You like?
The first post was July 4, 2006. I know it was something about Dora succumbing to peer pressure, but I don't know how I worded it, or if there was more to it. (Part of the problem with my memory here is that I remember titles I originally rejected for some... and thus am worried that the titles I don't feel "sure" about are rejected titles.)
Anyway, any picture from July 4, 2006 to August 11, 2006 entitled "Title Lost" is a picture I need help with. Any help?
Oh, and I've changed the look a little. You like?
Saturday, July 07, 2007
June Is Bustin' Out All Over My Home Page
July should be bustin' out sometime around the 20th... but what are the odds of that actually happening. Anyway, go check out June, if you're so inclined.
No news on the transportation front, really.
Remember, the picture of the pink ribbon is a link to the latest issue of Kathy & Ruth's 3-Day Walk Newsletter!
Now I'm going to go try to get caught up on STILL: Life. I've got storage issues on my computer, and no car to get anywhere to fix said storage issues.
Also, due to online storage issues (that have now gone away, apparently), I removed the pics from July, 2006. I very dilegently documented the comments and the titles of the photos... and now that space isn't an issue, I'm going to re-post those pics. However, I can't find the titles...
So, if you happen to check the July, 2006 pics (once I get them back up) and can remember one of the "Title Lost" pictures, post a comment under it and let me know!
No news on the transportation front, really.
Remember, the picture of the pink ribbon is a link to the latest issue of Kathy & Ruth's 3-Day Walk Newsletter!
Now I'm going to go try to get caught up on STILL: Life. I've got storage issues on my computer, and no car to get anywhere to fix said storage issues.
Also, due to online storage issues (that have now gone away, apparently), I removed the pics from July, 2006. I very dilegently documented the comments and the titles of the photos... and now that space isn't an issue, I'm going to re-post those pics. However, I can't find the titles...
So, if you happen to check the July, 2006 pics (once I get them back up) and can remember one of the "Title Lost" pictures, post a comment under it and let me know!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Hold That Thought...
First, I forgot that I can't get my e-mail from home right now. So if I don't respond until Thursday or so, that's why.
Second, school e-mail is down.
So, if you have a thought about a transportation solution that will work (and I've already checked the bus schedules, and it doesn't work... also, they're very uncooperative when it comes to the pizza delivery job) hold that thought, or call my cell with it, if you have that number.
Second, school e-mail is down.
So, if you have a thought about a transportation solution that will work (and I've already checked the bus schedules, and it doesn't work... also, they're very uncooperative when it comes to the pizza delivery job) hold that thought, or call my cell with it, if you have that number.
Car Dead. Pray for a Quickly-Located Cheap Reliable Replacement
Well, unless I want to spend a few thousand on a new engine, the car is history.
So this is me putting feelers out for a somewhat reliable and cheap used car.
E-mail me!
So this is me putting feelers out for a somewhat reliable and cheap used car.
E-mail me!
Prayer Request of a Different Sort
My car made some REALLY frightening noises as I was going to work Saturday, so I pulled off the highway and had it towed.
Whatever you pray to, I'd appreciate you trying this one: "Please let Mark's car, which he depends upon for his near-financial-stability, not be dead. Also, if the repair bill could be under $1000 (or, really, under $500... or, even better, about $20), that would be good."
Thank you.
Whatever you pray to, I'd appreciate you trying this one: "Please let Mark's car, which he depends upon for his near-financial-stability, not be dead. Also, if the repair bill could be under $1000 (or, really, under $500... or, even better, about $20), that would be good."
Thank you.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
It's MAY! (Well, it is on my website, finally...)
Okay, I've gotten my website update to May...
June will be up in a week or so, pending my coming up with a laffline for June.
I've added two links to the top of my home page. The square picture (which is taken from a picture on my photoblog) on the left near the top (under some words, however) provides a link to my photoblog. The square picture on the right (also taken from a picture on my photoblog) of a pink ribbon pin provides a link to my sister's and her walking partner's newsletter, "Kathy & Ruth Talk the Walk". I had the idea of putting it on my website (pending Ruth telling me to take it down) because I thought it would be a way for people who aren't on the mailing list to access it.
Also, this month's issue has a picture of my elbow in it. Well, my elbow is in a picture that is actually of something other than my elbow. But you get the idea.
Anyway, I wanted to pass that one. So click the link to get to the link to read the newsletter.
And comment, people! Comment!
June will be up in a week or so, pending my coming up with a laffline for June.
I've added two links to the top of my home page. The square picture (which is taken from a picture on my photoblog) on the left near the top (under some words, however) provides a link to my photoblog. The square picture on the right (also taken from a picture on my photoblog) of a pink ribbon pin provides a link to my sister's and her walking partner's newsletter, "Kathy & Ruth Talk the Walk". I had the idea of putting it on my website (pending Ruth telling me to take it down) because I thought it would be a way for people who aren't on the mailing list to access it.
Also, this month's issue has a picture of my elbow in it. Well, my elbow is in a picture that is actually of something other than my elbow. But you get the idea.
Anyway, I wanted to pass that one. So click the link to get to the link to read the newsletter.
And comment, people! Comment!
Saturday, June 02, 2007
The Great Booty Hunt Of 2007
So I was at this End Of The School Year (Sort Of) Party on Friday night, and amid the strange events that transpired there, I also stumbled across this stuff I'd seen at some grocery store or another, but never thought to buy, called "Booty". "Pirate's Booty", to be exact. Well, that and "Vegi Booty", which also had the pirate on the front.
Anyway, I tried it, and really enjoyed it, particularly the Vegi Booty.
However, I couldn't remember where I had seen it before, so I couldn't buy some of my very own.
So, the recurring real-life character of Ashley got to hear me respond to his, "Did you find everything you needed?" with "Do you sell Booty?".
More than one grocery store employee in the Kansas City area was greeted with "I'm looking for Booty," over the past week.
But the search is over! It's at the grocery store I normally go to, which I was slow to stop by, thanks to that stupid construction on Soutwest Trafficway.
Hooray!
Anyway, I tried it, and really enjoyed it, particularly the Vegi Booty.
However, I couldn't remember where I had seen it before, so I couldn't buy some of my very own.
So, the recurring real-life character of Ashley got to hear me respond to his, "Did you find everything you needed?" with "Do you sell Booty?".
More than one grocery store employee in the Kansas City area was greeted with "I'm looking for Booty," over the past week.
But the search is over! It's at the grocery store I normally go to, which I was slow to stop by, thanks to that stupid construction on Soutwest Trafficway.
Hooray!
On Grace
With so many of you clamoring to hear the details of my thoughts on Grace, how could I refuse to share?
However, you're just gonna get the Cliff's Notes version, as I don't remember the vast details of my original thoughts/rant.
The major thing was I remembered how I'd hear the part of Christian beliefs that sorta starts with the notion that we're not worthy and how that would make me so angry.
"Uh!" I'd say in a huff, "How dare they assume we just automatically are crap!"
Now, what with many years behind me, I can say, "Oh yeah, right on. No contest."
I mean, seriously, have you met any humans? And I mean no offense to any human who might be reading this.
We are seriously crapoliciousness.
Anyway, that was the bulk of my thoughts on Grace. There was a quote from Season 2 of BtVS that I was gonna throw in there, but I've no time for that right now, as I should be in bed and still want to post something else tonight.
The end.
However, you're just gonna get the Cliff's Notes version, as I don't remember the vast details of my original thoughts/rant.
The major thing was I remembered how I'd hear the part of Christian beliefs that sorta starts with the notion that we're not worthy and how that would make me so angry.
"Uh!" I'd say in a huff, "How dare they assume we just automatically are crap!"
Now, what with many years behind me, I can say, "Oh yeah, right on. No contest."
I mean, seriously, have you met any humans? And I mean no offense to any human who might be reading this.
We are seriously crapoliciousness.
Anyway, that was the bulk of my thoughts on Grace. There was a quote from Season 2 of BtVS that I was gonna throw in there, but I've no time for that right now, as I should be in bed and still want to post something else tonight.
The end.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
I Don't Know If Things Are Looking Up, But I Keep Looking Up
So I have this new response I keep wanting to try out when people ask me how I'm doing. Here's the script.
Person: How are you doing?
Me: Oh, I'm doing GREAT!
Person: Really? That's--
Me: No, not really. It's this new thing I'm trying, called "Fake It 'Til You Make It". It essentially involves lying repeatedly until death.
Mainly because I think it's funny.
Things are looking up. But have I posted here how I seem to be obsessed with phtographing clouds? Seriously, you should see my cloud photo collection.
In other news: Got my site updated FOR APRIL! I hope to have it updated for May by, oh... the 25th or so. Go check it out. The laffline this month is about Jesus.
I had some thoughts about grace the other day. Not the one you say at a meal, but the one that taught my soul to something-or-other in the song "Amazing Grace". I'm not going to put them here just yet, if ever. The moment may have passed.
Mom-O-Grams went well. Either my voice is awful and makes people cry or people tend to get moist in the eyes when being sung to one-on-one. It was fun. If it happens again, I hope more people get them. Everyone who got one seemed to really appreciate it.
Let's see... went to Atchison for a weekend. Didn't go ghost-hunting, though.
I had a rant about a certain type of parent, and I was gonna share, but, again, the moment has passed.
I just wanted you people to know what you're missing by my being so busy.
This is what a non-blog should be all about. That and the hokey-pokey.
Person: How are you doing?
Me: Oh, I'm doing GREAT!
Person: Really? That's--
Me: No, not really. It's this new thing I'm trying, called "Fake It 'Til You Make It". It essentially involves lying repeatedly until death.
Mainly because I think it's funny.
Things are looking up. But have I posted here how I seem to be obsessed with phtographing clouds? Seriously, you should see my cloud photo collection.
In other news: Got my site updated FOR APRIL! I hope to have it updated for May by, oh... the 25th or so. Go check it out. The laffline this month is about Jesus.
I had some thoughts about grace the other day. Not the one you say at a meal, but the one that taught my soul to something-or-other in the song "Amazing Grace". I'm not going to put them here just yet, if ever. The moment may have passed.
Mom-O-Grams went well. Either my voice is awful and makes people cry or people tend to get moist in the eyes when being sung to one-on-one. It was fun. If it happens again, I hope more people get them. Everyone who got one seemed to really appreciate it.
Let's see... went to Atchison for a weekend. Didn't go ghost-hunting, though.
I had a rant about a certain type of parent, and I was gonna share, but, again, the moment has passed.
I just wanted you people to know what you're missing by my being so busy.
This is what a non-blog should be all about. That and the hokey-pokey.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
I Write The Songs
I met with Ruth this evening and we recorded 9 little ditties for her Mom-O-Gram fundraiser for her Breast Cancer 3-Day Walk. The video footage is great, as I had only rough ideas when I left the school at 4:50 or so, and only added the e-mail she'd sent me after our brainstorming meeting where we figured out what tunes to put with the different categories of Singling Telegrams (Working Mom, Soccer Mom, Mr. Mom, etc.) when I stopped by my house to find something halfway suitable to wear for the video shoot (I went with the 1980s Student Council Guy look, as my tux was in no way ready to wear). It's not TOO obvious that the songs aren't super-familiar to me.
I left my house around 5:15 or so, and on the 45 minutes (or was it an hour) trip, I managed to create five or six songs. Luckily traffic was awful, so I had plenty of time to quickly write a line before traffic moved again.
Then, at Ruth's, I whipped up the remaining three or four songs.
Ruth's reaction to me doing this leads me to believe this isn't something large amounts of people do--or maybe enough people don't do it well and thus it seems impressive when someone does it at least relatively well.
I am cursed or blessed with a rhyming and somewhat rhythmic-oriented brain. I can't hear a "doo dah" without proclaiming it to be a "doo dah" and then singing it to the tune of the opening of Camptown Races. Maybe that's what it is.
I don't know. It's odd. And as far as gifts go, what's the point? I mean, other than writing Mom-O-Gram ditties for your sister's fundraiser.
Anyway, that was my evening. I got a free meal out of it (thanks, Ruth--forgot to say that before I left), and now we have funny footage of me acting like going all mushmouth over whole phrases will work as a way to cover the fact I've forgotten the words.
I'm off to bed to watch Lost, and then try to sleep. Tomorrow I cook for TNT!
I left my house around 5:15 or so, and on the 45 minutes (or was it an hour) trip, I managed to create five or six songs. Luckily traffic was awful, so I had plenty of time to quickly write a line before traffic moved again.
Then, at Ruth's, I whipped up the remaining three or four songs.
Ruth's reaction to me doing this leads me to believe this isn't something large amounts of people do--or maybe enough people don't do it well and thus it seems impressive when someone does it at least relatively well.
I am cursed or blessed with a rhyming and somewhat rhythmic-oriented brain. I can't hear a "doo dah" without proclaiming it to be a "doo dah" and then singing it to the tune of the opening of Camptown Races. Maybe that's what it is.
I don't know. It's odd. And as far as gifts go, what's the point? I mean, other than writing Mom-O-Gram ditties for your sister's fundraiser.
Anyway, that was my evening. I got a free meal out of it (thanks, Ruth--forgot to say that before I left), and now we have funny footage of me acting like going all mushmouth over whole phrases will work as a way to cover the fact I've forgotten the words.
I'm off to bed to watch Lost, and then try to sleep. Tomorrow I cook for TNT!
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Thoughts While Babysitting
I really need to get on here more often, as I've missed the window for a few posts, least of which being my yearly rant about "Take Your Child Out Of School Day". I won't re-hash. Just look up last year's rant.
Tonight I'm babysitting the girls. I should come up with another nickname, as "the boys", "the girls", and "the kids" doesn't work any more ("the boys" are outside my circle of folks I see regularly). Ah, it's good to be reminded that you're on the outs with someone.
Anyway, I'm babysitting the girls tonight, because Ben & Tricia are at some get-gussied-up function of some sort. I was sitting on Livy's bed watching the two of them brush their teeth and generally prepare for bed when my over-active imagination imagined them about twelve years from now, standing side by side in front of those dual sinks putting on their make-up for the prom.
Then I imagined that I was talking with them then, as I was as this imagination-fest was going on, and in the imagination-fest I was telling them that I was remembering this random night, so many years ago, when they were both so small and precocious, where they were happily brushing their teeth and telling me all sorts of wild tales about how sometimes they're allowed to do the teeth-brushing routine in reverse order, and so on... and as I re-read this run-on sentence, I realize you might need a road map. Take a moment. Draw one if you need one.
Then the Hallmark moment was over, and I remembered that Jordan is only 12, and I know I've forgotten moments where I sat watching her when she was this age or younger, thinking, "I'll remember this when she's older, and blah blah blah." By the time Jordan is 17 or 18, I'm bound to remember even less.
And then, of course, as is my way these past few years, the newer part of me steps in to clear his throat and say, "As if you're going to live to see their Junior/Senior Prom Night, dufus."
Well, he has a point. I'm not the healthiest man alive. Not even on the top gazillion list, methinks.
(And I get that charlie-horse feeling in my leg as I type this, as if to back it up the sentiment--no worries, folks who know the significance of that... I've had this feeling often, and I'm fairly sure it's just a small charlie horse.)
So, shaken from my moment, but still conversing with the girls as if this whole other world didn't exist in my brain for however-many seconds, I realize that if I'm here, maybe I'll remember this night if there's a blog entry about it.
And here it is.
Tonight I'm babysitting the girls. I should come up with another nickname, as "the boys", "the girls", and "the kids" doesn't work any more ("the boys" are outside my circle of folks I see regularly). Ah, it's good to be reminded that you're on the outs with someone.
Anyway, I'm babysitting the girls tonight, because Ben & Tricia are at some get-gussied-up function of some sort. I was sitting on Livy's bed watching the two of them brush their teeth and generally prepare for bed when my over-active imagination imagined them about twelve years from now, standing side by side in front of those dual sinks putting on their make-up for the prom.
Then I imagined that I was talking with them then, as I was as this imagination-fest was going on, and in the imagination-fest I was telling them that I was remembering this random night, so many years ago, when they were both so small and precocious, where they were happily brushing their teeth and telling me all sorts of wild tales about how sometimes they're allowed to do the teeth-brushing routine in reverse order, and so on... and as I re-read this run-on sentence, I realize you might need a road map. Take a moment. Draw one if you need one.
Then the Hallmark moment was over, and I remembered that Jordan is only 12, and I know I've forgotten moments where I sat watching her when she was this age or younger, thinking, "I'll remember this when she's older, and blah blah blah." By the time Jordan is 17 or 18, I'm bound to remember even less.
And then, of course, as is my way these past few years, the newer part of me steps in to clear his throat and say, "As if you're going to live to see their Junior/Senior Prom Night, dufus."
Well, he has a point. I'm not the healthiest man alive. Not even on the top gazillion list, methinks.
(And I get that charlie-horse feeling in my leg as I type this, as if to back it up the sentiment--no worries, folks who know the significance of that... I've had this feeling often, and I'm fairly sure it's just a small charlie horse.)
So, shaken from my moment, but still conversing with the girls as if this whole other world didn't exist in my brain for however-many seconds, I realize that if I'm here, maybe I'll remember this night if there's a blog entry about it.
And here it is.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Nature Abhors A Vacuum
Yeah, I haven't posted for a while. It seems that when you try to free up some time because your "real job" work is suffering from your "support your real job" job hours, things rush in to take up that free time.
And that's okay... except I want to sleep all the time.
Let's see... since "Surprise!", lots has happened...
For instance, I've started rehearsals for the next show. I'm thinking I might audition for a solo part, but we shall see what my throat thinks about that.
The next time I went to that pharmacy to get... I don't remember what now... probably some sleep aid or another--anyway, the next time I went there, that male Ashley was working, so I just asked if his mother was a big "Gone With the Wind" fan or what. Turns out Grandma was. Apparently I was the first person in his life to ever get that connection--which says a lot about my age, as I don't know that they run "Gone With the Wind" yearly like they did when I was a kid. (That and "Wizard of Oz" got played on broadcast stations yearly--remember that?)
We gave the MAP test at school. I have things to share about that, but I want to wait until the we're out of the testing window before I do--I think it ends this week.
I joined a church--but those of you who got the e-vite already knew that. I was sorta crazy-nervous, and I didn't expect the awesome feeling one gets when staring at a congregation of people that is welcoming you. It was more than I'd expected, all around.
Kurt Vonnegut died. I'll have to prepare a special post about that sometime when I have the time to really get into it. I've re-read "Timequake", and last night I picked up "Galapagos" just to move it, but ended up starting re-reading it.
I really love his writing.
Then there was the shootings in Virginia... but I don't know much about it. I figure it isn't news until they somehow tie it to Anna Nicole.
But, kvetching about what passes for news aside, I don't have a lot of reaction about it. I think my crazy brain deals with things by noticing strangeness.
Most of which I won't delve into here and now.
And beneath it all there's the knowledge that there are over 30 families somewhere in the world dealing with a whole lot.
Also, I got my taxes mailed off on time.
Sorry, couldn't end on the somberness.
And that's okay... except I want to sleep all the time.
Let's see... since "Surprise!", lots has happened...
For instance, I've started rehearsals for the next show. I'm thinking I might audition for a solo part, but we shall see what my throat thinks about that.
The next time I went to that pharmacy to get... I don't remember what now... probably some sleep aid or another--anyway, the next time I went there, that male Ashley was working, so I just asked if his mother was a big "Gone With the Wind" fan or what. Turns out Grandma was. Apparently I was the first person in his life to ever get that connection--which says a lot about my age, as I don't know that they run "Gone With the Wind" yearly like they did when I was a kid. (That and "Wizard of Oz" got played on broadcast stations yearly--remember that?)
We gave the MAP test at school. I have things to share about that, but I want to wait until the we're out of the testing window before I do--I think it ends this week.
I joined a church--but those of you who got the e-vite already knew that. I was sorta crazy-nervous, and I didn't expect the awesome feeling one gets when staring at a congregation of people that is welcoming you. It was more than I'd expected, all around.
Kurt Vonnegut died. I'll have to prepare a special post about that sometime when I have the time to really get into it. I've re-read "Timequake", and last night I picked up "Galapagos" just to move it, but ended up starting re-reading it.
I really love his writing.
Then there was the shootings in Virginia... but I don't know much about it. I figure it isn't news until they somehow tie it to Anna Nicole.
But, kvetching about what passes for news aside, I don't have a lot of reaction about it. I think my crazy brain deals with things by noticing strangeness.
Most of which I won't delve into here and now.
And beneath it all there's the knowledge that there are over 30 families somewhere in the world dealing with a whole lot.
Also, I got my taxes mailed off on time.
Sorry, couldn't end on the somberness.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Surprise!
I knew Ben & Tricia had to switch their tickets to the Saturday evening performance, but I forgot to ask if they were sitting in the same spot.
I didn't see them in their regular spot, so I assumed they were somewhere that was else--but still in the theatre.
As the evening wore on, I became convinced they weren't there, based on no hard evidence but my inabilitiy to spot them in a huge theatre.
Afterwards, I waited for them out front, and got far fewer "why didn't you have a solo" comments from passers-by than my ego would have liked (but my ego is an insatiable critter, so no amount would have been enough), and eventually decided they weren't there for real. I even checked my voice mail at home, in case there was a "We aren't there, in case you're wondering" message.
I went inside, and some person I don't know Pilsbury Dough Boyed me to get my attention, because Patrick and Alice asked him to.
Surprise! Patrick and Alice used Ben and Tricia's tickets, because Ben and Tricia needed to be somewhere that was else--the outside the theatre variety.
So hooray! Alice hadn't been to that theatre since she went to see a burlesque show there in 1971. She enjoyed herself immensely.
I mean last night, not in 1971.
Then we went to Ruby Tuesday and had a late dinner (I'm not about eating the afternoon before a show, and as my binge the night before meant I didn't wake up until Saturday afternoon, I didn't eat all day).
And now here I am writing blog entries while I wait for laundry to finish up.
Mega-exciting life.
However, Spring Break (which was this past week) has allowed me to make sure the Simply Sleep is non-addictive, and allowed me ot get 10- and 12-hour nights of sleep. Okay, early-morning-to-mid-afternoons sleep.
Monday begins the "downhill slide" to the end of the year. Two weeks, MAP tests, then the end of the year officially begins.
Hooray!
I didn't see them in their regular spot, so I assumed they were somewhere that was else--but still in the theatre.
As the evening wore on, I became convinced they weren't there, based on no hard evidence but my inabilitiy to spot them in a huge theatre.
Afterwards, I waited for them out front, and got far fewer "why didn't you have a solo" comments from passers-by than my ego would have liked (but my ego is an insatiable critter, so no amount would have been enough), and eventually decided they weren't there for real. I even checked my voice mail at home, in case there was a "We aren't there, in case you're wondering" message.
I went inside, and some person I don't know Pilsbury Dough Boyed me to get my attention, because Patrick and Alice asked him to.
Surprise! Patrick and Alice used Ben and Tricia's tickets, because Ben and Tricia needed to be somewhere that was else--the outside the theatre variety.
So hooray! Alice hadn't been to that theatre since she went to see a burlesque show there in 1971. She enjoyed herself immensely.
I mean last night, not in 1971.
Then we went to Ruby Tuesday and had a late dinner (I'm not about eating the afternoon before a show, and as my binge the night before meant I didn't wake up until Saturday afternoon, I didn't eat all day).
And now here I am writing blog entries while I wait for laundry to finish up.
Mega-exciting life.
However, Spring Break (which was this past week) has allowed me to make sure the Simply Sleep is non-addictive, and allowed me ot get 10- and 12-hour nights of sleep. Okay, early-morning-to-mid-afternoons sleep.
Monday begins the "downhill slide" to the end of the year. Two weeks, MAP tests, then the end of the year officially begins.
Hooray!
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Ashley
Last night (meaning Friday night) at P.J., Jin asked me how to spell "Ashley". With his accent, both I and a co-worker thought he said "actually".
He said, "No, the name, 'Ashley'."
I laughed, because I'm a teacher, and you can ask any teacher how to spell the name "Ashley" and they'll let you know there's more than three ways to spell it--if not more than ten ways to spell it.
So Jin said, "For a man, how do you spell it?"
And then a discussion on whether or not a man can be named "Ashley" ensued, where I pointed out one of the main characters in Gone With the Wind was named "Ashley", and he was a guy.
Then, after I got off work tonight/this morning, I stopped by a nearby pharmacy to get stuff for this stupid toothache issue which is the new light of my life, and after spending forever looking for what I needed and getting a few other things I forgot I needed, I went to the register.
And who should show up there to ring me up but a guy named "Ashley".
Of course, I had to channel Patsy.
"Ashley, huh? Did you order pizza yesterday?" I asked. Unfortunately I have no children to be mortified by my behavior (and I wouldn't have had them with me out shopping at 12:50 in the morning even if I did have them), so it was not a true Patsy moment (not that she'd have her kids out shopping at 12:50 in the morning, either).
Of course, he looked kinda surprised, but admitted he did, in fact, order pizza yesterday. I gave an even shorter version of the conversation at work the day before in explanation as to how I suspected this about him, but without mentioning Gone With the Wind, which is unfortunate, because I now have this Patsy-like urge to go back and ask him if his mom was a fan of the movie--or maybe the book.
I walked out of the place thinking it was a very Patsy moment. And it was.
He said, "No, the name, 'Ashley'."
I laughed, because I'm a teacher, and you can ask any teacher how to spell the name "Ashley" and they'll let you know there's more than three ways to spell it--if not more than ten ways to spell it.
So Jin said, "For a man, how do you spell it?"
And then a discussion on whether or not a man can be named "Ashley" ensued, where I pointed out one of the main characters in Gone With the Wind was named "Ashley", and he was a guy.
Then, after I got off work tonight/this morning, I stopped by a nearby pharmacy to get stuff for this stupid toothache issue which is the new light of my life, and after spending forever looking for what I needed and getting a few other things I forgot I needed, I went to the register.
And who should show up there to ring me up but a guy named "Ashley".
Of course, I had to channel Patsy.
"Ashley, huh? Did you order pizza yesterday?" I asked. Unfortunately I have no children to be mortified by my behavior (and I wouldn't have had them with me out shopping at 12:50 in the morning even if I did have them), so it was not a true Patsy moment (not that she'd have her kids out shopping at 12:50 in the morning, either).
Of course, he looked kinda surprised, but admitted he did, in fact, order pizza yesterday. I gave an even shorter version of the conversation at work the day before in explanation as to how I suspected this about him, but without mentioning Gone With the Wind, which is unfortunate, because I now have this Patsy-like urge to go back and ask him if his mom was a fan of the movie--or maybe the book.
I walked out of the place thinking it was a very Patsy moment. And it was.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Weekend In Omaha
Okay, it was actually about 21 hours in Omaha, but it still counts.
Got to see Casey at his going-away shindig, as evidenced here:
Behold: The January 29th Club
My eyes are bugging out because I was telling Karen (who had my camera at that moment) how Cheryl bugged her eyes out when I complained that she had blinked in the previous picture. Karen, having no patience for the end of my narrative goings-on, snapped the picture in mid-story (and mid-demonstration).
Got to see Casey at his going-away shindig, as evidenced here:
Behold: The January 29th Club
My eyes are bugging out because I was telling Karen (who had my camera at that moment) how Cheryl bugged her eyes out when I complained that she had blinked in the previous picture. Karen, having no patience for the end of my narrative goings-on, snapped the picture in mid-story (and mid-demonstration).
My jacket looks awful. I should have it burned.
Anyway, Casey left yesterday. I'm going to give it a couple of days and call Karen to see what (if anything... I don't know how the military works, beyond the whole... okay, I don't know how the military works) she's heard from him.
Apparently he joined the Navy, not the Air Force. I wasn't sure whether I should feel better or worse about this. I've been told I should feel better about it--and if you have information to the contrary, keep it to yourself.
In the non-Weekend In Omaha section of the news, I haven't worked this week because I had to supervise two nights of 7th Grade Readers' Theatre performances.
About 70% of them spoke up this time, so it was more enjoyable than usual.
Okay, I'm off to bed. Hope everyone is having a great whatever it is you're having.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
From Our "Circle Of Life" Department: Tommy Moore Is Dead
Tommy Moore died Sunday. I don't have any details other than what they had in the obit at hannibal.net.
It sorta broke my heart to hear about his death. Wade called tonight just as I was delivering a pizza, and as it was slightly before 7:00 I figured I'd wait until after 7:00 to call him back (and thus avoid using minutes), but by the time 7:00 arrived I was back at the store, and then I forgot to call him until I was on my way home.
He asked if I'd gotten his e-mail, and I hadn't, so he told me over the phone. And, again, it sorta broke my heart.
Don't get me wrong; Tommy and I weren't best buds or anything. But, in addition to attending Junior High and High School with him, we spent some time at Center Elementary together. We were two of... what, maybe 30? You spend seven years in a classroom with the same 30 kids or so, you feel as if you know them very well--even if that was--brace yourselves--28 years ago.
Tommy wasn't in our class from kindergarten on, however. He started going to Center in 5th grade, I think--maybe earlier. He was a big boy. He was as big as I thought I was.
He was the first person who ever told me what was obviously a complete and total insane lie where I thought, "That is obviously a complete and total insane lie." The lie had to do with Linda Carter having a wardrobe malfunction in an episode of Wonder Woman, and her subsequent running "offstage" while covering her nakedness.
The "offstage" part is what cued me in to the total-lie-ed-ness of his story. Any 5th-grader knows they don't have a "stage" in a television series. The "stage" is what they have in the gym.
I remember being totally taken aback, trying to figure out if it was my responsibility to say, "That's such a total crock! That didn't happen!" or if I should just say "Wow," and move on with my life. I chose the latter. Come to think of it, that was a very formative moment for me.
And the point of that story isn't to say, "What a liar-head that Tommy was," as we were in fifth grade at the time...
In high school--or maybe jr. high--Tommy went out for basketball. One of the coaches called him "Massive", and this kinda cruel nickname stuck. I, thinking I was as large as he, was never really comfortable using the name.
Now I'm left wondering how he felt about the nickname--both at the time and as an adult. Odd how you think of things you'd like to ask after it's too late to do so, isn't it? Or is that just run-of-the-mill human nature?
Tommy was a pretty nice guy in high school. I have vague memories of not-as-nice moments, but nothing abnormal for a adolescent male in the 1980s.
He was so excited about our 10-year reunion... I got in touch with him and he ran with the ideas we'd discussed on the phone. He'd lost a lot of weight and seemed to really have his life together. I'm thinking that reunion in 1995 is the last time I saw him. We had a night gathering at what used to be the Holiday Inn in Hannibal. We also had a picnic out at Mark Twain Lake. He organized the food was very much the in-control guy.
So, based on that reunion and the phone calls preparing for it, last I knew, he'd turned out to be a pretty great guy.
I'm trying to see if I can remember all of my classmates who have passed away since graduation... Brian Schoeneman passed away from the same thing that almost killed me about a week beforehand back in 2005. Chad Laird died several years back. I'm thinking that's it... at least the ones I know of.
How fun to be the age where you start keeping track of who from your childhood is now gone.
Anyway, Tommy's moved over to the "moved on" column. And it sorta breaks my heart.
It sorta broke my heart to hear about his death. Wade called tonight just as I was delivering a pizza, and as it was slightly before 7:00 I figured I'd wait until after 7:00 to call him back (and thus avoid using minutes), but by the time 7:00 arrived I was back at the store, and then I forgot to call him until I was on my way home.
He asked if I'd gotten his e-mail, and I hadn't, so he told me over the phone. And, again, it sorta broke my heart.
Don't get me wrong; Tommy and I weren't best buds or anything. But, in addition to attending Junior High and High School with him, we spent some time at Center Elementary together. We were two of... what, maybe 30? You spend seven years in a classroom with the same 30 kids or so, you feel as if you know them very well--even if that was--brace yourselves--28 years ago.
Tommy wasn't in our class from kindergarten on, however. He started going to Center in 5th grade, I think--maybe earlier. He was a big boy. He was as big as I thought I was.
He was the first person who ever told me what was obviously a complete and total insane lie where I thought, "That is obviously a complete and total insane lie." The lie had to do with Linda Carter having a wardrobe malfunction in an episode of Wonder Woman, and her subsequent running "offstage" while covering her nakedness.
The "offstage" part is what cued me in to the total-lie-ed-ness of his story. Any 5th-grader knows they don't have a "stage" in a television series. The "stage" is what they have in the gym.
I remember being totally taken aback, trying to figure out if it was my responsibility to say, "That's such a total crock! That didn't happen!" or if I should just say "Wow," and move on with my life. I chose the latter. Come to think of it, that was a very formative moment for me.
And the point of that story isn't to say, "What a liar-head that Tommy was," as we were in fifth grade at the time...
In high school--or maybe jr. high--Tommy went out for basketball. One of the coaches called him "Massive", and this kinda cruel nickname stuck. I, thinking I was as large as he, was never really comfortable using the name.
Now I'm left wondering how he felt about the nickname--both at the time and as an adult. Odd how you think of things you'd like to ask after it's too late to do so, isn't it? Or is that just run-of-the-mill human nature?
Tommy was a pretty nice guy in high school. I have vague memories of not-as-nice moments, but nothing abnormal for a adolescent male in the 1980s.
He was so excited about our 10-year reunion... I got in touch with him and he ran with the ideas we'd discussed on the phone. He'd lost a lot of weight and seemed to really have his life together. I'm thinking that reunion in 1995 is the last time I saw him. We had a night gathering at what used to be the Holiday Inn in Hannibal. We also had a picnic out at Mark Twain Lake. He organized the food was very much the in-control guy.
So, based on that reunion and the phone calls preparing for it, last I knew, he'd turned out to be a pretty great guy.
I'm trying to see if I can remember all of my classmates who have passed away since graduation... Brian Schoeneman passed away from the same thing that almost killed me about a week beforehand back in 2005. Chad Laird died several years back. I'm thinking that's it... at least the ones I know of.
How fun to be the age where you start keeping track of who from your childhood is now gone.
Anyway, Tommy's moved over to the "moved on" column. And it sorta breaks my heart.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Okay, Not ALL Bad
For instance: Joy Joy Joy!
David, Julie, and new arrival Tyson James.
I forgot to mention that in my update. I was too busy being down, and by the time I remembered I forgot to mention it, it was past my bedtime!
David, Julie, and new arrival Tyson James.
I forgot to mention that in my update. I was too busy being down, and by the time I remembered I forgot to mention it, it was past my bedtime!
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Nothing New To Report
By popular (okay, by Andy's) demand: an update.
Nothing new to report.
Which is actually to say there's lots to report, but it's all bad and sucky, and what's-the-point-esque. I was feeling all forward-motion-y in my life there for a while, and now I don't.
I had a whole thing I thought about posting about this horrible and non-humorous experience I had while delivering pizzas a few weeks back, but it was too upsetting/depressing/whatever to actually type about.
I also had this whole thing to type about my mama and the "n" word, as NYC or somewhere was going to outlaw use of the "n" word, but that was very backwards-looking and somewhat upsetting/depressing/whatever to write about.
I had a bowling tournament and a visit with my niece and great-niece in Omaha to type about, and while that wasn't upsetting (except for maybe the blizzard) or depressing (except for maybe the constant sense that my life is and forever shall be in a holding pattern), I hadn't had time to write about it.
There was that crazy weather from the end of February, but Mark Twain would just complain that everyone talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it. Well, he would if he wasn't busy with the being dead and all.
And then there was this whole thing at school on Friday that was probably the most upsetting/depressing of all, because it demonstrates the problem I'm sensing at school right now, which makes me want to consider--at the very least--going to another school in the district... which is just stressful, because change causes stress, etc.
So, there's the update: things have changed, but, essentially, everything is the same.
Happy March, Everyone!
Nothing new to report.
Which is actually to say there's lots to report, but it's all bad and sucky, and what's-the-point-esque. I was feeling all forward-motion-y in my life there for a while, and now I don't.
I had a whole thing I thought about posting about this horrible and non-humorous experience I had while delivering pizzas a few weeks back, but it was too upsetting/depressing/whatever to actually type about.
I also had this whole thing to type about my mama and the "n" word, as NYC or somewhere was going to outlaw use of the "n" word, but that was very backwards-looking and somewhat upsetting/depressing/whatever to write about.
I had a bowling tournament and a visit with my niece and great-niece in Omaha to type about, and while that wasn't upsetting (except for maybe the blizzard) or depressing (except for maybe the constant sense that my life is and forever shall be in a holding pattern), I hadn't had time to write about it.
There was that crazy weather from the end of February, but Mark Twain would just complain that everyone talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it. Well, he would if he wasn't busy with the being dead and all.
And then there was this whole thing at school on Friday that was probably the most upsetting/depressing of all, because it demonstrates the problem I'm sensing at school right now, which makes me want to consider--at the very least--going to another school in the district... which is just stressful, because change causes stress, etc.
So, there's the update: things have changed, but, essentially, everything is the same.
Happy March, Everyone!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
"In Case Someone Needs To Find My House At Night For Some Sort Of Emergency, Like Pizza Delivery" Tip #4
Lighting is important.
However, lighting isn't an "on" or "off" proposition. It's like all the stuff that breaking-and-entering chick, Goldilocks, stumbles across. There's two extremes and just right. Actually, there's even more than that, so it's even more complicated than Goldilocks' world.
First, if you're expecting someone, it's common courtesy to leave the light on for them. And if the bulb is out, it's common courtesy to change it.
Now, if you're deciding to put numbers up on your home, don't put them up until you've had an evening to think about it. By "think about it", I mean "turn on the porch light, go outside, and see where the less-shadowy bits of wall are". It really does more harm than good to turn on a porch light if the fancy "old fashioned street-lamp" style fixture casts shadows over the numbers. You'd be better off leaving the light off, at that point, as it might make the numbers easier to read. The shadow issue is what makes this slightly more complicated than too hot/too cold/just right.
Also, if you insist on having really bright outdoor lights, don't put the numbers too close to where the light source(s) is (are). Number too close to a bright light can be just as difficult to read as numbers that are in shadow... and what's worse, shining a flashlight (or headlights) at this problem doesn't help.
Seriously, use some sort of temporary method to put up your numbers, then have someone who doesn't know your house number drive by slowly and tell you what numbers seem to be on the side of your house. If they're able to read them, permanently affix the numbers to your home, and never change the wattage or the light fixture of your porch light.
However, lighting isn't an "on" or "off" proposition. It's like all the stuff that breaking-and-entering chick, Goldilocks, stumbles across. There's two extremes and just right. Actually, there's even more than that, so it's even more complicated than Goldilocks' world.
First, if you're expecting someone, it's common courtesy to leave the light on for them. And if the bulb is out, it's common courtesy to change it.
Now, if you're deciding to put numbers up on your home, don't put them up until you've had an evening to think about it. By "think about it", I mean "turn on the porch light, go outside, and see where the less-shadowy bits of wall are". It really does more harm than good to turn on a porch light if the fancy "old fashioned street-lamp" style fixture casts shadows over the numbers. You'd be better off leaving the light off, at that point, as it might make the numbers easier to read. The shadow issue is what makes this slightly more complicated than too hot/too cold/just right.
Also, if you insist on having really bright outdoor lights, don't put the numbers too close to where the light source(s) is (are). Number too close to a bright light can be just as difficult to read as numbers that are in shadow... and what's worse, shining a flashlight (or headlights) at this problem doesn't help.
Seriously, use some sort of temporary method to put up your numbers, then have someone who doesn't know your house number drive by slowly and tell you what numbers seem to be on the side of your house. If they're able to read them, permanently affix the numbers to your home, and never change the wattage or the light fixture of your porch light.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Speaking Of My Birthday...
The Friday before, my bowling team put together a little birthday celebration for during-bowling... which involved lots of cupcakes that I ended up taking home, I guess because I'm not quite to the level of have "as a house" after my "big".
I don't remember the night in great detail, as it was a very celebratory evening, but I met new people and amazed them with my social skills, I'm sure.
Also, on the evening of my birthday, we had an event at our school, and a couple of girls did the Mr. Riggs' motions (with lip-synching) and dance to They Might Be Giants' "Older", which is the birthday tradition in my classroom.
And Mr. Anderson made his famous ice-cream dessert, which is something I look forward to on birthdays.
All this meaning: I didn't mean to imply I haven't had much of a birthday celebration in that last post. I just mean I'm still expecting the one we discussed earlier. Tricia, are you getting this? :-)
Okay, I'm off to post more pics over at STILL: Life.
I don't remember the night in great detail, as it was a very celebratory evening, but I met new people and amazed them with my social skills, I'm sure.
Also, on the evening of my birthday, we had an event at our school, and a couple of girls did the Mr. Riggs' motions (with lip-synching) and dance to They Might Be Giants' "Older", which is the birthday tradition in my classroom.
And Mr. Anderson made his famous ice-cream dessert, which is something I look forward to on birthdays.
All this meaning: I didn't mean to imply I haven't had much of a birthday celebration in that last post. I just mean I'm still expecting the one we discussed earlier. Tricia, are you getting this? :-)
Okay, I'm off to post more pics over at STILL: Life.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
The Return Of STILL: Life
If you're wondering, apparently about 191 or 192 pictures is the limit that I can put on that blog... at least with what I have on the other blogs.
Thus the lack of pictures for a few weeks over there. I've put the next 10 up, and plan to put another 10 up later today (or more likely tomorrow), and another 10 up by Saturday (and that would include Saturday's). Once I'm caught up I'll just delete the oldest entry before putting a new one up.
And I'm going to get an archive set up somewhere. I've saved the comments, and figured I can just put a record up on some other free site.
What have we missed while I've been living life? Um... well, my birthday came and went. If I'm not mistaken, the actual "party" (read: small gathering of some friends and their kids for dinner and perhaps board games (okay, I'm just putting in a plug for "I hope there are board games")) is yet to come... at least, at one point there was talk of this event happening after Patrick has returned... and he has returned.
Also, if it's going to be a Saturday evening, I need to know about 10 days before so I can let the Papa know. Or the manager of the Papa. That's a message to those of you on the planning committee.
Okay, there's other stuff to write about, but I'm cold and sick and need to get ready to go to the doctor. Oh yeah, that's something else. I'm sick. Blah.
Anyway, go look at pictures.
Thus the lack of pictures for a few weeks over there. I've put the next 10 up, and plan to put another 10 up later today (or more likely tomorrow), and another 10 up by Saturday (and that would include Saturday's). Once I'm caught up I'll just delete the oldest entry before putting a new one up.
And I'm going to get an archive set up somewhere. I've saved the comments, and figured I can just put a record up on some other free site.
What have we missed while I've been living life? Um... well, my birthday came and went. If I'm not mistaken, the actual "party" (read: small gathering of some friends and their kids for dinner and perhaps board games (okay, I'm just putting in a plug for "I hope there are board games")) is yet to come... at least, at one point there was talk of this event happening after Patrick has returned... and he has returned.
Also, if it's going to be a Saturday evening, I need to know about 10 days before so I can let the Papa know. Or the manager of the Papa. That's a message to those of you on the planning committee.
Okay, there's other stuff to write about, but I'm cold and sick and need to get ready to go to the doctor. Oh yeah, that's something else. I'm sick. Blah.
Anyway, go look at pictures.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
The Top Ten Reasons Why I'm Glad I'm Single And Live Alone
#10--I can sleep in without anyone milling around and waking me up on accident.
#9--What I want for supper is what's for supper.
#8--The only person who might complain about me not doing the dishes is the same person who got them dirty and still isn't doing the dishes, and thus has no room to complain.
#7--I don't have to worry or get suspicious when I'm the only one home at 1:00 in the morning.
#6--There's room in my passenger seat for my CDs, and a spot between the passenger seat and the door that's handy for that large QT glass I often have with me.
#5--While I'm out at 1:00 in the morning, nobody is at home worrying or getting suspicious.
#4--Nobody complains when I want to watch Buffy DVDs AGAIN.
#3--There's never a wait to use the restroom at home.
#2--I only have to schedule the holidays with my family.
#1--I have all these married/coupled friends who constantly remind me through word and deed that I'm lucky to be single and live alone.
You know, just in case that last post left anyone thinking I felt otherwise. The discomfort mentioned in that post stems from being somewhere where everyone else is wrapped up in something I'm not so interested in--like being stuck at a sci-fi convention when you abhor science fiction. While you may have a good time with the friends you're there with, once the costume competition starts, you're apt to leave, and apt to do so in a foul mood.
Again, just to clarify.
#9--What I want for supper is what's for supper.
#8--The only person who might complain about me not doing the dishes is the same person who got them dirty and still isn't doing the dishes, and thus has no room to complain.
#7--I don't have to worry or get suspicious when I'm the only one home at 1:00 in the morning.
#6--There's room in my passenger seat for my CDs, and a spot between the passenger seat and the door that's handy for that large QT glass I often have with me.
#5--While I'm out at 1:00 in the morning, nobody is at home worrying or getting suspicious.
#4--Nobody complains when I want to watch Buffy DVDs AGAIN.
#3--There's never a wait to use the restroom at home.
#2--I only have to schedule the holidays with my family.
#1--I have all these married/coupled friends who constantly remind me through word and deed that I'm lucky to be single and live alone.
You know, just in case that last post left anyone thinking I felt otherwise. The discomfort mentioned in that post stems from being somewhere where everyone else is wrapped up in something I'm not so interested in--like being stuck at a sci-fi convention when you abhor science fiction. While you may have a good time with the friends you're there with, once the costume competition starts, you're apt to leave, and apt to do so in a foul mood.
Again, just to clarify.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Happy New Year!
Welcome to 2007, everyone.
I just posted this as a comment elsewhere, and thought I'd discuss it here.
My New Year's Eve tradition has for years been to attend a party, feel uncomfortable at midnight when everyone is kissing their love, accept kisses from the folks who feel they must then kiss everyone in the room, then give it about fifteen minutes before leaving for the sour-mooded drive home.
I really should figure out to just stay home and go to bed early.
I do have fun at the parties, I must say. It's just the cruddy ending that I hate.
Anyway, no resolutions here, except to try to do what I can with what I have where I am.
That and win Powerball.
Happy 2007. May your days be merry and bright!
I just posted this as a comment elsewhere, and thought I'd discuss it here.
My New Year's Eve tradition has for years been to attend a party, feel uncomfortable at midnight when everyone is kissing their love, accept kisses from the folks who feel they must then kiss everyone in the room, then give it about fifteen minutes before leaving for the sour-mooded drive home.
I really should figure out to just stay home and go to bed early.
I do have fun at the parties, I must say. It's just the cruddy ending that I hate.
Anyway, no resolutions here, except to try to do what I can with what I have where I am.
That and win Powerball.
Happy 2007. May your days be merry and bright!
Saturday, December 30, 2006
On This, The Sixth Day Of Christmas
Over on Andy's Blog, he linked to this post on Adam Mustoe's blog. To clarify, I have no idea who this Adam person is, other than the information available about him in his profile. But, he had some thoughts on the holiday, and since reading them... I guess on the 24th or so, I have been mulling them over.
Somewhere in the past... I don't know... thirty years or so--I'm 39 now, and I think Wade spilled the beans about you-know-who when I was younger than 9, so we'll go with about thirty years or so...
Where was I? Oh yeah. Anyway, somewhere in that time, Christmas has become--hokey as it sounds--more about the giving for me.
I don't know that Mom or anyone else did anything to create that in me. I've been trying to trace this back into my history somewhere, but nothing is standing out. It seems important to figure it out, because I think if you love your kids, you'll teach them to find the joy in giving so that Christmas still has a sort of... well, magic isn't the word I mean... but it's close. We'll go with "joy".
Of course, if your kids grow up to be dirt poor and can't afford to give anyone anything a particular Christmas, that Christmas is gonna kind a stink, but there's always next year, right?
There's just a sort of joy associated with thinking of your friends and loved ones, trying to figure out what they would like, and then setting it up just right. I know some people hate doing all that--especially the picking the perfect gift part--but, when I have the means, I love doing that.
The best gift I ever gave--at least that I can think of right now--is Doris Day's holiday CD. I gave it to my Secret Santee out at MCM&VCo. during the run of "A Christmas Bette" back in... whenever the heck that was.
Jon Copeland was a huge Doris Day fan, and had mentioned that, although she had recorded lots of holiday songs over the years, alas, she did not have a holiday album.
Amazon.com was young back then, and I don't remember how it came to pass--either I did a search for "Doris Day" and "Christmas" on a whim that maybe Jon was unaware of the CD's existence, or if I was just searching for ideas of what to get him next, but there it was: Doris Day: Personal Christmas Collection.
I didn't have a debit card. I had to mail a check to amazon.com and then hope against hope that it got here before Christmas.
It arrived, but I wanted so badly to see his face when he got it. This is very hard to pull off in the course of a MCM&VCo. show, because you don't want anyone to see you place the gift, and you have to plan it so that they're next going to be in that spot at the same time you are. Also, if you're staring, it's kinda obvious.
I enlisted the help of Marcie Ramirez. I asked her to announce in the dressing room, while Jon was off somewhere else, that everyone watch Jon as he arrives behind the curtain for the water glass number, because his Secret Santa was going to put a gift on his water glass table, and wanted to watch his reaction.
So, as we carried the tables onstage, I surreptitiously placed the unwrapped CD on his table. We all watched as Jon arrived, and I would not trade watching his expression for most anything in the world.
That--to me, anyway--is how to keep some Joy in Christmas.
Even this year, when things were... um... lean... I still have the memory of that performance and Jon's sheer joy at seeing that, not only did Doris Day have a holiday collection, but he was now the proud owner of it!
So, yes, hokey, but for me the joy comes from the giving. Of course, I love to get stuff, and it's always fun to see what people find for me... so don't stop giving, those of you who do.
It has just hit me that maybe one of the reasons I like to give is connected to why I like to perform. I like entertaining people. Giving a great gift is a form of entertaining them. And if you're there, it's not unlike performing onstage--you get immediate feedback as to how you are doing.
Some day--maybe next life--I'm going to have holiday money all saved up in plenty of time to shop (my life for years has been: December Paycheck the last day before break, then rushed holiday shopping, keeping in mind that January bills must also be paid). When this happens, it's going to be the best flippin' Christmas ever!
"Next year all our troubles will be out of sight," indeed!
P.S.: If this post has convinced you that the joy is in the giving, here is my amazon.com wish list and a page on my website about gifts I'd enjoy.
I kid. I just felt I had to end it that way, strictly for reasons of comedic closure.
Somewhere in the past... I don't know... thirty years or so--I'm 39 now, and I think Wade spilled the beans about you-know-who when I was younger than 9, so we'll go with about thirty years or so...
Where was I? Oh yeah. Anyway, somewhere in that time, Christmas has become--hokey as it sounds--more about the giving for me.
I don't know that Mom or anyone else did anything to create that in me. I've been trying to trace this back into my history somewhere, but nothing is standing out. It seems important to figure it out, because I think if you love your kids, you'll teach them to find the joy in giving so that Christmas still has a sort of... well, magic isn't the word I mean... but it's close. We'll go with "joy".
Of course, if your kids grow up to be dirt poor and can't afford to give anyone anything a particular Christmas, that Christmas is gonna kind a stink, but there's always next year, right?
There's just a sort of joy associated with thinking of your friends and loved ones, trying to figure out what they would like, and then setting it up just right. I know some people hate doing all that--especially the picking the perfect gift part--but, when I have the means, I love doing that.
The best gift I ever gave--at least that I can think of right now--is Doris Day's holiday CD. I gave it to my Secret Santee out at MCM&VCo. during the run of "A Christmas Bette" back in... whenever the heck that was.
Jon Copeland was a huge Doris Day fan, and had mentioned that, although she had recorded lots of holiday songs over the years, alas, she did not have a holiday album.
Amazon.com was young back then, and I don't remember how it came to pass--either I did a search for "Doris Day" and "Christmas" on a whim that maybe Jon was unaware of the CD's existence, or if I was just searching for ideas of what to get him next, but there it was: Doris Day: Personal Christmas Collection.
I didn't have a debit card. I had to mail a check to amazon.com and then hope against hope that it got here before Christmas.
It arrived, but I wanted so badly to see his face when he got it. This is very hard to pull off in the course of a MCM&VCo. show, because you don't want anyone to see you place the gift, and you have to plan it so that they're next going to be in that spot at the same time you are. Also, if you're staring, it's kinda obvious.
I enlisted the help of Marcie Ramirez. I asked her to announce in the dressing room, while Jon was off somewhere else, that everyone watch Jon as he arrives behind the curtain for the water glass number, because his Secret Santa was going to put a gift on his water glass table, and wanted to watch his reaction.
So, as we carried the tables onstage, I surreptitiously placed the unwrapped CD on his table. We all watched as Jon arrived, and I would not trade watching his expression for most anything in the world.
That--to me, anyway--is how to keep some Joy in Christmas.
Even this year, when things were... um... lean... I still have the memory of that performance and Jon's sheer joy at seeing that, not only did Doris Day have a holiday collection, but he was now the proud owner of it!
So, yes, hokey, but for me the joy comes from the giving. Of course, I love to get stuff, and it's always fun to see what people find for me... so don't stop giving, those of you who do.
It has just hit me that maybe one of the reasons I like to give is connected to why I like to perform. I like entertaining people. Giving a great gift is a form of entertaining them. And if you're there, it's not unlike performing onstage--you get immediate feedback as to how you are doing.
Some day--maybe next life--I'm going to have holiday money all saved up in plenty of time to shop (my life for years has been: December Paycheck the last day before break, then rushed holiday shopping, keeping in mind that January bills must also be paid). When this happens, it's going to be the best flippin' Christmas ever!
"Next year all our troubles will be out of sight," indeed!
P.S.: If this post has convinced you that the joy is in the giving, here is my amazon.com wish list and a page on my website about gifts I'd enjoy.
I kid. I just felt I had to end it that way, strictly for reasons of comedic closure.
Friday, December 29, 2006
"In Case Someone Needs To Find My House At Night For Some Sort Of Emergency, Like Pizza Delivery" Tip #3
I touched on this last time, but I'll go a bit more in-depth here. Reflective material is not helpful at night. I realize this might seem counterintuitive, but it's true. Unless I'm turning the car and pointing the lights at your house or mailbox or wherever you've put these reflective numbers, all I get are flashes of the numbers as my lights brush up against them and say, "I do beg your pardon" before moving on.
Heck, sometimes I can point my flashlight directly at them and still can't make them out... the angle is off, or something just isn't right. The force is not with them. Much more helpful than reflective material is a good contrast between the numbers and whatever is behind the numbers. That helps them stand out in low light.
And a freebie with this tip: One easy test to see if you have easy-to-read numbers--and thus an easy-to-find home--is to ask several people who don't know where you live to find your home by consulting a map before leaving to get there--no checking the map once they've left for your place, and make sure it's a night-time trip. And pick friends who aren't too nice to point out ain't no way nobody can find your house because they can't read your house numbers (or your neighbors').
Heck, sometimes I can point my flashlight directly at them and still can't make them out... the angle is off, or something just isn't right. The force is not with them. Much more helpful than reflective material is a good contrast between the numbers and whatever is behind the numbers. That helps them stand out in low light.
And a freebie with this tip: One easy test to see if you have easy-to-read numbers--and thus an easy-to-find home--is to ask several people who don't know where you live to find your home by consulting a map before leaving to get there--no checking the map once they've left for your place, and make sure it's a night-time trip. And pick friends who aren't too nice to point out ain't no way nobody can find your house because they can't read your house numbers (or your neighbors').
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Holiday Catch-up
Jodan, her eyes all aglow with the holiday spirit... and flash-induced red-eye.
Adam, Allison, and Wade open gifts and point out the handsomest person in the room, which is apparntly the cameraperson.
Here's Dane with our great-nephew, Zach. Dane's in mid-shush, as I recall.
On the evening of the 22nd, Ruth drove me and all of our gifts across the state to Center. We found the kitchen still in mid-remodel (and I'll leave it at that, as Wade has received enough ribbing on the topic), but by the next day it was looking much better. However, that night I had to start the brine for the turkey, and I did it amid the remodeling.
Leslie and Jordan arrived in Center not long after Ruth and I, and I introduced Jordan to the meaningful and long-standing Riggs family holiday tradition of putting the little bird lights on the ceramic tree, which I had grown tired of standing there and doing.
As is always a holiday tradition, several trips to Hannibal were made. I needed a bucket in which to brine the turkey, and made a trip late on the 22nd (or early on the 23rd), and I think at least one trip was made for sanity-keeping purposes in the "normal" morning hours of the 23rd.
Ruth and Leslie prepared everything that wasn't the turkey (and Ruth answered a few questions I had about preparing a turkey), and it was a great meal--even though the biscuits weren't Deana Mae's recipe... there were still great rolls there.
Todd, Anne, and the kids came to Center the afternoon of the 23rd, and enjoyed the meal with us. Then we had the gift-opening, which was lots of fun. The best moment was when Allison opened her gift of a very large green stuffed animal frog, and shouted, "It's a pig!"
Ruth and I returned to Kansas City that evening. I made Sunday services on the 24th, and not long after 12:30, Ruth and I headed for Omaha.
Wade, Dane, and Jordan were headed from Omaha about the same time as us (Leslie had a previous engagement in St. Joe, so she drove seperately).
Ruth and I arrived at Say's a bit before 4:00, and by the time we figured out how to park on the crazy streets around Say's house, it was 4:45.
I kid. It was 4:00.
Say, Peggy, Carrie, Zach, and Carrie's boyfriend (I think) Steve were all there. Say was making Christmas treats, and Zach was either sleeping, eating, or thinking about doing one of the two. I love my new great-nephew and all, but I told them he needs to be doing a few tricks or something the next time I come see him, because right now he's boring. Although it was nice to hold him and sing to him. I forget that part about babies.
Wade, Dan, and Jordan arrived a while after we got there. Once Leslie arrived, the Omaha gift-opening took place, and it was decided to hold off on the stockings until Christmas morning. We did, however, go ahead and draw names for next Christmas. Steve is to e-mail Todd, Anne, Ed, and Sara about who they drew. Since we missed doing the name-drawing this year (due to a lack of Thanksgiving), we figured it would be best to go ahead and draw them now.
Ruth, Leslie, and I went to Leslie's house to spend the night. There's not a lot to say about that except that Leslie was right--the upstairs bedroom is very cold.
We went back to Say's on Christmas morning, and Ruth and I headed back to Kansas City at about 10:00. Ruth finally had enough driving, and I took the wheel at the Stuckey's where I did my Christmas shopping for Adam and Allison last Christmas Day.
The rest of my Christmas was spent here, enjoying my time off... as I was fairly sure I'd be delivering pizzas on the 26th. And I was.
So, holiday cheer all around. Hooray!
Saturday, December 23, 2006
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year!
It's finally the holiday season over at my website. Also, my Christmas card is here. I'll hopefully be sending out personal links to some of you later, but no promises. I'm in Center right now, cooking a turkey.
Friday, December 22, 2006
More Thoughts On The Big Debate
Okay, I've had the Ally McBeal Christmas CD going in my car lately--
And now I feel I should explain myself. I enjoyed the show whenever I happened to see it, but didn't watch regularly. However, several years ago Jeanne B. out at MCM&VCo. wanted to find out all she could about a song she'd heard in a Target commercial, and my crack detective skills (yes, I always tell the kids at school I'm not Nancy Drew, and thus they need to not talk at all during tests, to avoid my assuming they're cheating, but really I am very much Nancy Drew) led me to learn the song was called "The Man With The Bag" and there were three recordings of it available locally. One was on an Ultra Lounge holiday CD (and it was the original recording of the song, actually), one was on the (at that time) new Diana Krall CD--but only on the ones purchased at Target--and the other was on the Ally McBeal Christmas CD.
So I got each one. All three CDs are great, by the way. I love the Ultra Lounge holiday CDs. They are just about my favorites for car holiday cheer.
Anyway, the current car holiday CD is the Ally McBeal Christmas CD, and on it, Vonda Shepard sings the less-appealing version of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas"... well, the less-appealing of the first two on that link from the last post... I won't delve into the others on there.
Anyway (again... feel for anyone whose job it is to listen to me talk at length...), hearing this several times while delivering pizzas last night, I had another thought to add (and some confusing backstory as well, it would seem) to my whole debate below... and also, I felt I should clarify. I will probably feel I should clarify even after this post is over.
My big problem with the "brighter" version isn't that they say "This year Christmas is great..." it's that they're asserting that this year and forevermore everything will be great. "From now on our troubles will be out of sight."
Well now, please. Give me an ever-lovin' break already. "Next year all our troubles will be out of sight" might seem to suggest something similar, but I look at that as, "Next year at this time, our current woes will be forgotten", or, in the more... I dunno... abstract, I guess, "In that future time when we have the best Christmas ever, things will be so wonderful, we'll never have time to think about the troubles we had in the past." But heck, even taken literally, all the original version promises is a year of trouble-less-ness.
I mean, come on, from now on? Yeah, maybe if you mean, "From now on, our troubles will be invisible to us, able to attack us at any time."
I'm just sayin' is all. The original version is far superior. Doth anyone dare to contradict my assertion? Post your comment, you varlaty thou, you.
Varlet. What's a varlet? Apparently, the spell-checker was wondering the same thing.
Also, for those of you who normally get me holiday/birthday gifts, I've just updated my amazon.com wish list. Sorry to be so late about it.
And now I feel I should explain myself. I enjoyed the show whenever I happened to see it, but didn't watch regularly. However, several years ago Jeanne B. out at MCM&VCo. wanted to find out all she could about a song she'd heard in a Target commercial, and my crack detective skills (yes, I always tell the kids at school I'm not Nancy Drew, and thus they need to not talk at all during tests, to avoid my assuming they're cheating, but really I am very much Nancy Drew) led me to learn the song was called "The Man With The Bag" and there were three recordings of it available locally. One was on an Ultra Lounge holiday CD (and it was the original recording of the song, actually), one was on the (at that time) new Diana Krall CD--but only on the ones purchased at Target--and the other was on the Ally McBeal Christmas CD.
So I got each one. All three CDs are great, by the way. I love the Ultra Lounge holiday CDs. They are just about my favorites for car holiday cheer.
Anyway, the current car holiday CD is the Ally McBeal Christmas CD, and on it, Vonda Shepard sings the less-appealing version of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas"... well, the less-appealing of the first two on that link from the last post... I won't delve into the others on there.
Anyway (again... feel for anyone whose job it is to listen to me talk at length...), hearing this several times while delivering pizzas last night, I had another thought to add (and some confusing backstory as well, it would seem) to my whole debate below... and also, I felt I should clarify. I will probably feel I should clarify even after this post is over.
My big problem with the "brighter" version isn't that they say "This year Christmas is great..." it's that they're asserting that this year and forevermore everything will be great. "From now on our troubles will be out of sight."
Well now, please. Give me an ever-lovin' break already. "Next year all our troubles will be out of sight" might seem to suggest something similar, but I look at that as, "Next year at this time, our current woes will be forgotten", or, in the more... I dunno... abstract, I guess, "In that future time when we have the best Christmas ever, things will be so wonderful, we'll never have time to think about the troubles we had in the past." But heck, even taken literally, all the original version promises is a year of trouble-less-ness.
I mean, come on, from now on? Yeah, maybe if you mean, "From now on, our troubles will be invisible to us, able to attack us at any time."
I'm just sayin' is all. The original version is far superior. Doth anyone dare to contradict my assertion? Post your comment, you varlaty thou, you.
Varlet. What's a varlet? Apparently, the spell-checker was wondering the same thing.
Also, for those of you who normally get me holiday/birthday gifts, I've just updated my amazon.com wish list. Sorry to be so late about it.
Monday, December 18, 2006
The Heated "Have Yourself A Merry Little" Debate
Okay, so there isn't really a debate... but since I'm of a very strong opinion on this holiday "issue", I think there should be. I'll start.
First, a reading assignment.
Now, for the purposes of this debate, I'm pitting the first version listed on that link against the "brighter" version (listed second... and minus the introduction, although it doesn't really matter, I don't think).
Here's my stand: I think the first version is a much more satisfactory song, because it's not all b.s. about how perfect everything is. In fact, it's superior--granted, in my opinion--because it admits the present isn't perfect while allowing for a possible future where things are much better.
I think the brighter version is a big liar-head, that wants to act like every Christmas is just the best one ever, and people never look back at other Christmases and wish that they could take elements from various years and combine them all in some future perfect Christmas... where all those who can no longer be with us, or no longer speak to us, are there (and speaking to us) again once more. And where all the gifts are the best gifts we ever gave or received, and the food and the company was just right... you get the idea.
I like that the first version indicates that it's thinking in that direction instead of saying "this year is perfect". And the need for this debate? The dumb version gets more air play... and by "air play", I mean it's the one you hear the most, whether on the radio or at holiday sing-alongs.
There. Rant over. Other side?
First, a reading assignment.
Now, for the purposes of this debate, I'm pitting the first version listed on that link against the "brighter" version (listed second... and minus the introduction, although it doesn't really matter, I don't think).
Here's my stand: I think the first version is a much more satisfactory song, because it's not all b.s. about how perfect everything is. In fact, it's superior--granted, in my opinion--because it admits the present isn't perfect while allowing for a possible future where things are much better.
I think the brighter version is a big liar-head, that wants to act like every Christmas is just the best one ever, and people never look back at other Christmases and wish that they could take elements from various years and combine them all in some future perfect Christmas... where all those who can no longer be with us, or no longer speak to us, are there (and speaking to us) again once more. And where all the gifts are the best gifts we ever gave or received, and the food and the company was just right... you get the idea.
I like that the first version indicates that it's thinking in that direction instead of saying "this year is perfect". And the need for this debate? The dumb version gets more air play... and by "air play", I mean it's the one you hear the most, whether on the radio or at holiday sing-alongs.
There. Rant over. Other side?
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Advent Week 3: Joy
I have nothing to say on this topic right now.
I just figured since I said something about the other two, I needed to put a post here about this week. We don't really want me to get started on the topic of "Joy", now do we?
I just figured since I said something about the other two, I needed to put a post here about this week. We don't really want me to get started on the topic of "Joy", now do we?
"In Case Someone Needs To Find My House At Night For Some Sort Of Emergency, Like Pizza Delivery" Tip #2
First, a side note. The last tip (and most of these tips) do not apply if have your house number painted very clearly on the curb in front of your house, have a mailbox by the curb with your house number in clearly visible (which means non-reflective) numbers on both sides (and the "door" of the mailbox, while you're at it), or both. These homes are very easy to find, and are a joy to delivery drivers throughout the world.
Now, the tip: Who cares if they don't look pretty; the bigger the numbers, the better--especially if you're not close to the street. Ain't tryin' to read inch-high numbers on a house half a football field away from me!
Now, the tip: Who cares if they don't look pretty; the bigger the numbers, the better--especially if you're not close to the street. Ain't tryin' to read inch-high numbers on a house half a football field away from me!
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
"In Case Someone Needs To Find My House At Night For Some Sort Of Emergency, Like Pizza Delivery" Tip #1
Don't use those script letter things, where the numbers are written out in script form.
Yes, yes, pretty, pretty.
Ain't nobody able to read the things from the street. You could have the thing spotlit with the 20th Centurly Fox searchlight, and people'd still be all, "What's that say? Scribbledy Scribble?"
Yes, yes, pretty, pretty.
Ain't nobody able to read the things from the street. You could have the thing spotlit with the 20th Centurly Fox searchlight, and people'd still be all, "What's that say? Scribbledy Scribble?"
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Where Are The Anti-Anti-Coagulants?
Frabjous Day! Calloo! Callay!
I went to see Dr. Bowlin today after school. Guess what!?! I'm anti-coagulant-free!
Okay, actually, it will take a few days for the last few doses to leave my system, but I'm on the road to anti-anti-coagulation!
Also, apparently I have no major health issues, which is surprising, but I'll take.
Now, if I get a blood clot in my lung and drop dead, you read about it here first.
In other news, I zonked out on the couch in the sunroom and just woke up cold, sore, and... well, cold.
I'm off to bed, where I will NOT take a pill (or a pill-and-a-half) before lying down!
Hooray!
I went to see Dr. Bowlin today after school. Guess what!?! I'm anti-coagulant-free!
Okay, actually, it will take a few days for the last few doses to leave my system, but I'm on the road to anti-anti-coagulation!
Also, apparently I have no major health issues, which is surprising, but I'll take.
Now, if I get a blood clot in my lung and drop dead, you read about it here first.
In other news, I zonked out on the couch in the sunroom and just woke up cold, sore, and... well, cold.
I'm off to bed, where I will NOT take a pill (or a pill-and-a-half) before lying down!
Hooray!
Sunday, December 10, 2006
On Peace (On Dancer! On Prancer and Vixen!)
Wow. So, apparently my post last Sunday frightened at least one person. I didn't think it was like 100% negative. I'd done it mostly as an exercise in emotionless observation of my life (not that I need to exercise that particular muscle, but I flexed it anyway).
Got to see Jen and her son Emmet tonight (and I hope I spelled Emmet right). Jen's funny as usual, and I probably should go see her in the MCM&VCo. show. It's on the list.
This week in advent the theme is Peace... or the... something... is Peace. I don't know if it's a theme, or what.
And I realize that a) lots of people have it much worse off than I do, and have children to look out for on top of it, and b) who cares about my life and woe, when I could be sharing a funny story or something, but...
Wait, that reminds me: I still need a laffline for December. My traditional December homepage isn't up, because I don't have a December laffline!
E-mail me if you have one for me.
Anyway, Friday was bad. I mean, I thought the Friday before last was bad, but apparently my life is an experiment in one-upmanship between misery and woe.
I kid. But Friday was very bad. By the time I got home Friday night--no, even before I got home, but definitely more so after I picked up the mail, etc.--anyway, by that time, I was just wanting to crawl away and never come out to see the light of day. It's a good thing I don't know where any liveable caves are around here.
But, thankfully, what sitting under the tree won't cure (not that I tried that, because I was worried I'd fall asleep there and have all sorts of back issues in the morning... and also, I'd be so depressed if it didn't work), sleep will help.
Does everyone else have that reset button that gets hit with a good night of sleep?
Whatever, I woke up with some perspective, and with what passes for a positive outlook in my brain.
Also, Jin called early in the afternoon and asked if I could close, which equals more money, which equals... you know the drill.
And the fact the other person who was supposed to close sorta flaked and I had to deliver all by my lonesome for the last few hours didn't really bug me, because, again, money...
Boy, do I sound like a slave to the almighty buck or what?
Which is fair...
So, anyway, church was good, and the theme or whatever was Peace, and the talk was about the message of the season... or messages of the Advent season, and I thought back to Friday and realized that I don't understand Peace very well, but I sure would like it. The Peace that comes from getting a blanket and moving into a dark, dank cave, and never leaving it again. The kind of Peace that passesth understanding--which explains why I don't understand it very well.
It would just be nice to--have things just be nice, I guess.
And I had to wonder if I really do any good in the world, which was also part of the problem on Friday. I don't mean that in a... wah kind of way. I just mean I wonder if I do any good with the things I do. I feel my teaching suffers when I'm working so much, and I'm probably not off the mark there. And then there's beyond the "doing good" of teaching. I wonder, do I at least manage to do more good than harm just in my day-to-day life?
There needs to be a website where you could look that up. Nothing complicated. Just a pie graph, maybe. You can select what color to make the "good done" part of the chart, and the color to make the "bad done" part of the chart.
Then, adjust your life as fits.
Peace. I don't know. I think it's a great concept. I'm all for it. I've got some on backorder, methinks.
Anyway, this holiday season is kinda gonna stink for me, as I will not be giving much (okay, probably not anything) in the way of gifts.
This is probably where all this blah blah blah negative Ned stuff is coming from.
Well, bah humbug on that. I've got my lights, and that's something.
P.S. to the Board of Public Utilities: Please do not cut off my electricity until after the holidays. Thanks.
Got to see Jen and her son Emmet tonight (and I hope I spelled Emmet right). Jen's funny as usual, and I probably should go see her in the MCM&VCo. show. It's on the list.
This week in advent the theme is Peace... or the... something... is Peace. I don't know if it's a theme, or what.
And I realize that a) lots of people have it much worse off than I do, and have children to look out for on top of it, and b) who cares about my life and woe, when I could be sharing a funny story or something, but...
Wait, that reminds me: I still need a laffline for December. My traditional December homepage isn't up, because I don't have a December laffline!
E-mail me if you have one for me.
Anyway, Friday was bad. I mean, I thought the Friday before last was bad, but apparently my life is an experiment in one-upmanship between misery and woe.
I kid. But Friday was very bad. By the time I got home Friday night--no, even before I got home, but definitely more so after I picked up the mail, etc.--anyway, by that time, I was just wanting to crawl away and never come out to see the light of day. It's a good thing I don't know where any liveable caves are around here.
But, thankfully, what sitting under the tree won't cure (not that I tried that, because I was worried I'd fall asleep there and have all sorts of back issues in the morning... and also, I'd be so depressed if it didn't work), sleep will help.
Does everyone else have that reset button that gets hit with a good night of sleep?
Whatever, I woke up with some perspective, and with what passes for a positive outlook in my brain.
Also, Jin called early in the afternoon and asked if I could close, which equals more money, which equals... you know the drill.
And the fact the other person who was supposed to close sorta flaked and I had to deliver all by my lonesome for the last few hours didn't really bug me, because, again, money...
Boy, do I sound like a slave to the almighty buck or what?
Which is fair...
So, anyway, church was good, and the theme or whatever was Peace, and the talk was about the message of the season... or messages of the Advent season, and I thought back to Friday and realized that I don't understand Peace very well, but I sure would like it. The Peace that comes from getting a blanket and moving into a dark, dank cave, and never leaving it again. The kind of Peace that passesth understanding--which explains why I don't understand it very well.
It would just be nice to--have things just be nice, I guess.
And I had to wonder if I really do any good in the world, which was also part of the problem on Friday. I don't mean that in a... wah kind of way. I just mean I wonder if I do any good with the things I do. I feel my teaching suffers when I'm working so much, and I'm probably not off the mark there. And then there's beyond the "doing good" of teaching. I wonder, do I at least manage to do more good than harm just in my day-to-day life?
There needs to be a website where you could look that up. Nothing complicated. Just a pie graph, maybe. You can select what color to make the "good done" part of the chart, and the color to make the "bad done" part of the chart.
Then, adjust your life as fits.
Peace. I don't know. I think it's a great concept. I'm all for it. I've got some on backorder, methinks.
Anyway, this holiday season is kinda gonna stink for me, as I will not be giving much (okay, probably not anything) in the way of gifts.
This is probably where all this blah blah blah negative Ned stuff is coming from.
Well, bah humbug on that. I've got my lights, and that's something.
P.S. to the Board of Public Utilities: Please do not cut off my electricity until after the holidays. Thanks.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Ah, Yes... This Is MUCH More Familiar
Well, Jin called the cell yesterday afternoon and left a message saying he'd meant to schedule me for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evening.
What, I'm just gonna say, "No, I want to have some down time" or even just "Sorry, I've already made other plans" or something?
But last night, when I finally got home, (but early for a Wednesday... it was 6:--something or so), I sat down by the tree and tried to get some sort of good picture. The holiday music was doing its thing, and I got distracted by the pretty lights and music. And it was good.
I mean, there's lots of good, don't get me wrong... or don't read some of these posts and think I don't know that. I do. And indivdually-blinking lights on a tree (especially when there's holiday music playing)--that's one of the good things. Between Thanksgiving and January 6th, anyway.
So, anyway, I got to work tonight. Hooray! I'll work tomorrow and Saturday, too. And the up side is, I have income I hadn't been planning on! Hooray!
Upon hearing I was working after all, a VERY GOOD FRIEND said (and I think it was meant in the same tone as Anna Nicole might have said to that rich elderly man she was married to, "I wish you would just hurry up and die"), "I wish you would just win Powerball."
Yes, you and me both.
What, I'm just gonna say, "No, I want to have some down time" or even just "Sorry, I've already made other plans" or something?
But last night, when I finally got home, (but early for a Wednesday... it was 6:--something or so), I sat down by the tree and tried to get some sort of good picture. The holiday music was doing its thing, and I got distracted by the pretty lights and music. And it was good.
I mean, there's lots of good, don't get me wrong... or don't read some of these posts and think I don't know that. I do. And indivdually-blinking lights on a tree (especially when there's holiday music playing)--that's one of the good things. Between Thanksgiving and January 6th, anyway.
So, anyway, I got to work tonight. Hooray! I'll work tomorrow and Saturday, too. And the up side is, I have income I hadn't been planning on! Hooray!
Upon hearing I was working after all, a VERY GOOD FRIEND said (and I think it was meant in the same tone as Anna Nicole might have said to that rich elderly man she was married to, "I wish you would just hurry up and die"), "I wish you would just win Powerball."
Yes, you and me both.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
I May Be In Bed By 10:00!
As I listen to the washer do that "final spin" thing, I'm thinking I may be in bed and asleep by 10:00!
Woo-hoo!
Hope everyone is having good times. I went to the post-concert dinner tonight an had a good time. I'll have my Tuesday nights free (read "I'll be delivering pizzas on Tuesdays now, hopefully") now!
G'night!
Woo-hoo!
Hope everyone is having good times. I went to the post-concert dinner tonight an had a good time. I'll have my Tuesday nights free (read "I'll be delivering pizzas on Tuesdays now, hopefully") now!
G'night!
Monday, December 04, 2006
Yes, It Could Be My Imagintion (And Probably Is)... BUT... I May Be On The Verge Of Something
So, what a great night. I get to work (late) at P.J. and learn that I'm scheduled for ONE--count 'em--ONE night this week. And I don't even close.
Granted, it will be nice to rest some more, and not be so tired and just... at the end of every rope I've ever had.
However, the man is trying to bring me down, and I need some money to keep him slightly at bay.
So, there I am, taking my first delivery and generally feeling miserable about things, but also thinking about some other issues I've got going on based on a post-service conversation I had yesterday.
I get to my destination, walk up to the place, and as I get to the elderly woman standing in the already-open door, this smell wafts over me that has to be experienced to be believed. It was coming from the house, not her, I'm fairly sure. I described it to the folks back at the store as the smell of someone having eaten cat dook and then vomited it up. But I didn't say "dook."
And, what bit of the... and I'm kinda going out on a vocabulary limb by calling this place a house, but, here goes... what bit of the house I could see looked very much like, "let's hammer up some things to serve as shelves here on the drywall." Also, I think at least one person in this dwelling was dealing with some sort of severe mental challenge.
So while I'm in the doorway, and the elderly woman is signing the credit card receipt, I'm mostly thinking, "Please let me get away from the door before I hurl." This was due to the smell, not the decor.
When I turn and am returning to my car, however--and after I glanced down and noticed I didn't get a tip... and was subsequently surprised to learn I didn't particulary mind about that--I was struck by this feeling of... something.
It sorta branched out from the thought, "Getting out of that doorway was all the tip I needed," and went into this whole... I don't know what to call it.
My next thought was along the lines of, "There's a message here, and you're stupid not to see that." Of course, was the message, "Hey, you think life is awful, but you could be doing much worse," or was it, "This is what's next for you." I mean I wonder that now. At the time I felt it was a lesson in the former, not a warning of the latter.
And this put me in the mind of some things from the talk yesterday... I mean Talk, not the lower-case kind. Something about being ready and open... or maybe "open" is my word. Anyway, I just about had a flippin' mental breakdown in the car.
Yes, I know: I'm crazy.
But here's the thing. I just have this feeling that I'm on the verge of something.
Okay, here's a related story from my college years. When I was in Directing class, there were something like 7 or 11 or 13 directors in the class. I can't remember for sure, but I'm fairly sure it was a prime number. Anyway, after auditions with all the Basic Acting students, we all sat around Kim's desk in his office and sorta haggled over the actors.
We had come to what--at first glance--seemed to be a deadlock of sorts. Everyone had someone they just had to have, but had a sort of, "Well, if I could have..." exchange they would be willing to make. But, as I said, on the surface it didn't seem to match up.
But then my brain did this thing... and I don't know how to explain it, exactly. I just sat forward in my chair suddenly and--seriously--commanded everyone to be quiet. I don't know how else to say how I said it. I think sorta... let my brain connect the dots for a bit, and then I just pointed to each person and said, "You get so-and-so, which means you can have so-and-so..." and so on until I'd given everyone one of their choices. Then I stopped and asked, "Does that work?"
Because, you see, I wasn't even sure I was right about it, even though it sure FELT like I was right. But, also, we Riggs kids seem to have an overabundance of self-doubt.
And it did work. It was crazy.
So anyway, tonight I felt that. Or recognized I've felt that for a while. Not quite the "sit up, lean forward, and speak in a commanding voice" variety, but maybe about four or five levels below that.
I don't know what--if anything--it means, but here's hoping it means I've worked out some winning Powerball numbers, eh?
Granted, it will be nice to rest some more, and not be so tired and just... at the end of every rope I've ever had.
However, the man is trying to bring me down, and I need some money to keep him slightly at bay.
So, there I am, taking my first delivery and generally feeling miserable about things, but also thinking about some other issues I've got going on based on a post-service conversation I had yesterday.
I get to my destination, walk up to the place, and as I get to the elderly woman standing in the already-open door, this smell wafts over me that has to be experienced to be believed. It was coming from the house, not her, I'm fairly sure. I described it to the folks back at the store as the smell of someone having eaten cat dook and then vomited it up. But I didn't say "dook."
And, what bit of the... and I'm kinda going out on a vocabulary limb by calling this place a house, but, here goes... what bit of the house I could see looked very much like, "let's hammer up some things to serve as shelves here on the drywall." Also, I think at least one person in this dwelling was dealing with some sort of severe mental challenge.
So while I'm in the doorway, and the elderly woman is signing the credit card receipt, I'm mostly thinking, "Please let me get away from the door before I hurl." This was due to the smell, not the decor.
When I turn and am returning to my car, however--and after I glanced down and noticed I didn't get a tip... and was subsequently surprised to learn I didn't particulary mind about that--I was struck by this feeling of... something.
It sorta branched out from the thought, "Getting out of that doorway was all the tip I needed," and went into this whole... I don't know what to call it.
My next thought was along the lines of, "There's a message here, and you're stupid not to see that." Of course, was the message, "Hey, you think life is awful, but you could be doing much worse," or was it, "This is what's next for you." I mean I wonder that now. At the time I felt it was a lesson in the former, not a warning of the latter.
And this put me in the mind of some things from the talk yesterday... I mean Talk, not the lower-case kind. Something about being ready and open... or maybe "open" is my word. Anyway, I just about had a flippin' mental breakdown in the car.
Yes, I know: I'm crazy.
But here's the thing. I just have this feeling that I'm on the verge of something.
Okay, here's a related story from my college years. When I was in Directing class, there were something like 7 or 11 or 13 directors in the class. I can't remember for sure, but I'm fairly sure it was a prime number. Anyway, after auditions with all the Basic Acting students, we all sat around Kim's desk in his office and sorta haggled over the actors.
We had come to what--at first glance--seemed to be a deadlock of sorts. Everyone had someone they just had to have, but had a sort of, "Well, if I could have..." exchange they would be willing to make. But, as I said, on the surface it didn't seem to match up.
But then my brain did this thing... and I don't know how to explain it, exactly. I just sat forward in my chair suddenly and--seriously--commanded everyone to be quiet. I don't know how else to say how I said it. I think sorta... let my brain connect the dots for a bit, and then I just pointed to each person and said, "You get so-and-so, which means you can have so-and-so..." and so on until I'd given everyone one of their choices. Then I stopped and asked, "Does that work?"
Because, you see, I wasn't even sure I was right about it, even though it sure FELT like I was right. But, also, we Riggs kids seem to have an overabundance of self-doubt.
And it did work. It was crazy.
So anyway, tonight I felt that. Or recognized I've felt that for a while. Not quite the "sit up, lean forward, and speak in a commanding voice" variety, but maybe about four or five levels below that.
I don't know what--if anything--it means, but here's hoping it means I've worked out some winning Powerball numbers, eh?
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Hope and Hopelessness
Today's talk at church was about hope. Okay, about hope and other stuff, but apparently this week of Advent is about hope, so I'm going to say the talk was about hope.
It was almost too much for me to take in at once, but then again, I have a short attention span.
What was I saying? Oh yes. Hope.
Anyway, it reminded me of the summer before last when I heard Rita Pierson speak. I fail to remember exactly what she was saying, but it was something about things humans need, or something people in poverty need, or... I don't remember. On this list was the word "faith", and she said something along the lines of "I don't like to use that word, because I know it puts some people off," and she's right, it does. I know this for a fact.
Face it, some people have just ruined the word for others of us. It comes with overtones of smugness, judgmental behaviors, and about 57 other negative things I'm not going to dwell on here. My personal thoughts on the word have changed now, but, depending on who is using it, it can still hold those overtones.
Back to the point, after she said this, she went on to say something along the lines of, "I choose to use the word 'hope'". She explained that one thing that is needed for... whatever it was she was talking about... is the hope that things will get better. A belief that they will, in fact. (Which means "faith" is a better word, but still, overtones.)
So, at the time, I was very much like, "Oh, okay, I have that." That's because, at the time, I only thought life was as bad as it could get. Little did I know.
Now I have to wonder if I have hope any more. I mean, I know I do, because I seem to have this insane amount of it. Crazy insane amounts of it. (As opposed to the other definition of insane, Mark?) I have this hope in me that something will change. I'll sit down and do something that turns my life around. I'll meet the right person, say the right thing, do the right good deed, and--presto!--instant turned-around life.
And then there's the rest of me that looks around and sees that this hope is getting me exactly nothing except disappointment and... well, more disappointment. And this part of me is totally devoid of hope.
Yes, yes, I'm one person. I get that. But I'm one person both filled with hope and hopelessness. The two must not be like matter and anti-matter, or I would have exploded by now, right?
I do live in hope that I'll get my life together. I live in hope that I won't be working two or more jobs the rest of my life. I live in hope that my life will be longer than a few more years. I also live in hope that my life isn't too long, because getting very old can be messy and expensive, and here I can't even afford being 39.
And I live with a part of my head saying, "Dude," (I don't know why this part of my brain says "Dude," but I just heard that in my head when I thought it) "look around you! You're gonna be working an extra job until you're dead, and at the rate you're going, that's not so far down the road. Give it up!"
I mean, to be honest, the other part of my head responds with a, "Oh, shut up." Usually, anyway.
Here's a for-instance (also known as an example): Friday was not the best day on record for me. Just when I thought I'd robbed Peter enough, Paul came up with a thing or two I'd forgotten about. I don't have the finances right now to get the blower fixed on my car, so I've resolved myself to wiping--or scraping and wiping--the interior side of my windows while driving down the road. It took a crazy amount of time to find a parking place downtown, and I ended up having to fork over $5 for that. This was after forking over $18 and some change for my tux cleaning. These seem like small amounts, but see the earlier bit about Peter & Paul for clarification.
I'm in the dressing room lamenting these and other facts aloud when I notice my tux shirt, which had been missing one of the buttons on the left cuff, was now not missing that button.
You would have thought it was the miracle of Christmas. I was joyously announcing to everyone that either the cleaners thought they lost the button and thus replaced it, or they were just nice folks, as there was not an additional charge for the button. I then realized how stupid I sounded, having just gone on about how life is just too much, only to be thrilled to death that I got a free button sewn on my tux shirt.
So I had to throw in a sarcastic, "This is it, things are definitely turning around for me!"
Oh, I'm sorry... you were expecting some sort of point?
No, none there, really. Just reporting that I'm just as confused as usual, and it's thanks to the 800 people in my brain.
Also, to report that Andy scored with a timely talk today.
That is all.
It was almost too much for me to take in at once, but then again, I have a short attention span.
What was I saying? Oh yes. Hope.
Anyway, it reminded me of the summer before last when I heard Rita Pierson speak. I fail to remember exactly what she was saying, but it was something about things humans need, or something people in poverty need, or... I don't remember. On this list was the word "faith", and she said something along the lines of "I don't like to use that word, because I know it puts some people off," and she's right, it does. I know this for a fact.
Face it, some people have just ruined the word for others of us. It comes with overtones of smugness, judgmental behaviors, and about 57 other negative things I'm not going to dwell on here. My personal thoughts on the word have changed now, but, depending on who is using it, it can still hold those overtones.
Back to the point, after she said this, she went on to say something along the lines of, "I choose to use the word 'hope'". She explained that one thing that is needed for... whatever it was she was talking about... is the hope that things will get better. A belief that they will, in fact. (Which means "faith" is a better word, but still, overtones.)
So, at the time, I was very much like, "Oh, okay, I have that." That's because, at the time, I only thought life was as bad as it could get. Little did I know.
Now I have to wonder if I have hope any more. I mean, I know I do, because I seem to have this insane amount of it. Crazy insane amounts of it. (As opposed to the other definition of insane, Mark?) I have this hope in me that something will change. I'll sit down and do something that turns my life around. I'll meet the right person, say the right thing, do the right good deed, and--presto!--instant turned-around life.
And then there's the rest of me that looks around and sees that this hope is getting me exactly nothing except disappointment and... well, more disappointment. And this part of me is totally devoid of hope.
Yes, yes, I'm one person. I get that. But I'm one person both filled with hope and hopelessness. The two must not be like matter and anti-matter, or I would have exploded by now, right?
I do live in hope that I'll get my life together. I live in hope that I won't be working two or more jobs the rest of my life. I live in hope that my life will be longer than a few more years. I also live in hope that my life isn't too long, because getting very old can be messy and expensive, and here I can't even afford being 39.
And I live with a part of my head saying, "Dude," (I don't know why this part of my brain says "Dude," but I just heard that in my head when I thought it) "look around you! You're gonna be working an extra job until you're dead, and at the rate you're going, that's not so far down the road. Give it up!"
I mean, to be honest, the other part of my head responds with a, "Oh, shut up." Usually, anyway.
Here's a for-instance (also known as an example): Friday was not the best day on record for me. Just when I thought I'd robbed Peter enough, Paul came up with a thing or two I'd forgotten about. I don't have the finances right now to get the blower fixed on my car, so I've resolved myself to wiping--or scraping and wiping--the interior side of my windows while driving down the road. It took a crazy amount of time to find a parking place downtown, and I ended up having to fork over $5 for that. This was after forking over $18 and some change for my tux cleaning. These seem like small amounts, but see the earlier bit about Peter & Paul for clarification.
I'm in the dressing room lamenting these and other facts aloud when I notice my tux shirt, which had been missing one of the buttons on the left cuff, was now not missing that button.
You would have thought it was the miracle of Christmas. I was joyously announcing to everyone that either the cleaners thought they lost the button and thus replaced it, or they were just nice folks, as there was not an additional charge for the button. I then realized how stupid I sounded, having just gone on about how life is just too much, only to be thrilled to death that I got a free button sewn on my tux shirt.
So I had to throw in a sarcastic, "This is it, things are definitely turning around for me!"
Oh, I'm sorry... you were expecting some sort of point?
No, none there, really. Just reporting that I'm just as confused as usual, and it's thanks to the 800 people in my brain.
Also, to report that Andy scored with a timely talk today.
That is all.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Life, Laffs, and Late Entrances
First, if anyone can remember a good laffline for my site, I'd appreciate it. The only one I can remember right now isn't very good for December, so I'm wanting to save it for January.
We had two snow days in a row. I'd like to report I got much more done around the house than I actually did, but instead I am reporting I only got some stuff done.
Final Dress was to be Wednesday night, but it was postponed to Thursday on acount of an ice storm of sorts. Thursday's Final Dress was cancelled due to the snow storm. So, final dress was actually the Friday performance.
Which is important, because I had yet to leave stage during Act II, change from my Act II costume into the Solo outfit, get my mic on, and get back on stage.
So, as I'm backstage, rounding the corner where I could stop and get some water which I desperately needed before picking up the mic that I forgot to bring to the dressing room, I realize it's now a choice, if I don't want my entrance to be late. I told Santa to be prepared to vamp.
Thanks go to Martin City Melodrama & Vaudeville Company, by the way, for teaching me to deal with a time crunch.
I figured saliva was gonna have to do the work, because--even though I don't necessarily need it--I needed to wear my mic. Mostly becausee, even though I could probably make myself heard, it would sound odd when every other soloist had a mic.
Apparently nobody noticed my throat was dry, because I got compliments on my number afterwards. I have some sort of built-in mechanism to always think I don't do so well, and having a dry throat made it doubly hard to overcome.
However, I've learned that "Thank you" is a powerful tool when dealing with many things. Compliments you feel you may not deserve, expressions of sorrow at the death of a loved one, and so on.
Then, getting back into the Act II costume, I encountered several problems, and wasn't able to make it on for the finale. Tonight I'm just going to stay in the solo outfit and come on for the encore. Also, tonight I'll be exiting the stage at least one song earlier.
On show days, at least when I have a solo, I tend to not eat after noon. This means that at about 10:40 or so when I get home, I pretty much need a meal. This, in turn, means I must stay up a few hours before hitting the sack.
And this, in turn, meant I was in no mood to wake up when my alarm went off this morning, and thus didn't make it to the hanging of the green at church this morning... or at Ben & Tricia's.
At any rate, my holiday stuff is almost all up (got the tree finished yesterday), and I'm getting all kinds of rest--one might even suggest I'm getting too much rest.
Hope everyone is having a good life these days. E-mail me if you have a good laffline. You might want to check out my laffline page for the guidelines... if there actually are any.
We had two snow days in a row. I'd like to report I got much more done around the house than I actually did, but instead I am reporting I only got some stuff done.
Final Dress was to be Wednesday night, but it was postponed to Thursday on acount of an ice storm of sorts. Thursday's Final Dress was cancelled due to the snow storm. So, final dress was actually the Friday performance.
Which is important, because I had yet to leave stage during Act II, change from my Act II costume into the Solo outfit, get my mic on, and get back on stage.
So, as I'm backstage, rounding the corner where I could stop and get some water which I desperately needed before picking up the mic that I forgot to bring to the dressing room, I realize it's now a choice, if I don't want my entrance to be late. I told Santa to be prepared to vamp.
Thanks go to Martin City Melodrama & Vaudeville Company, by the way, for teaching me to deal with a time crunch.
I figured saliva was gonna have to do the work, because--even though I don't necessarily need it--I needed to wear my mic. Mostly becausee, even though I could probably make myself heard, it would sound odd when every other soloist had a mic.
Apparently nobody noticed my throat was dry, because I got compliments on my number afterwards. I have some sort of built-in mechanism to always think I don't do so well, and having a dry throat made it doubly hard to overcome.
However, I've learned that "Thank you" is a powerful tool when dealing with many things. Compliments you feel you may not deserve, expressions of sorrow at the death of a loved one, and so on.
Then, getting back into the Act II costume, I encountered several problems, and wasn't able to make it on for the finale. Tonight I'm just going to stay in the solo outfit and come on for the encore. Also, tonight I'll be exiting the stage at least one song earlier.
On show days, at least when I have a solo, I tend to not eat after noon. This means that at about 10:40 or so when I get home, I pretty much need a meal. This, in turn, means I must stay up a few hours before hitting the sack.
And this, in turn, meant I was in no mood to wake up when my alarm went off this morning, and thus didn't make it to the hanging of the green at church this morning... or at Ben & Tricia's.
At any rate, my holiday stuff is almost all up (got the tree finished yesterday), and I'm getting all kinds of rest--one might even suggest I'm getting too much rest.
Hope everyone is having a good life these days. E-mail me if you have a good laffline. You might want to check out my laffline page for the guidelines... if there actually are any.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
I'm Thankful for My 100th Non-Blog Post!
Hello there, everyone, and welcome to my 100th non-blog post.
First, a confession: I did not go out of town for Thanksgiving. I fully intended to, but Leslie called on Monday night to say they weren't really having a dinner and all that, and I figured I don't have the gas money anyway, so I stayed home.
Now, those of you in the KC area who might take offense that I did not dine with you, please realize I'd had about 15 "If you aren't doing anything else" invitations, and who can remember who asked first, and plus, I'm just tired and wanted to spend some alone time.
I did eat this SmartOnes turkey meal that I found in my freezer, so I didn't go turkeyless. And I got some decorations up, and even some cleaning done.
I considered going to the meal at what, for lack of a shorter term, I'm calling my church (actually, it would have been shorter to just type the name, now that I think of it), but then I realized I'd need to shower, etc. Also, I woke up very late that day.
It's been a nice break. Next week I have rehearsals galore, so no pizza delivery (which means no pizza delivery money... hooray!). It's almost like having free time.
Anyway, I wanted to share my Thanksgiving confession with the world. Thanks for understanding.
First, a confession: I did not go out of town for Thanksgiving. I fully intended to, but Leslie called on Monday night to say they weren't really having a dinner and all that, and I figured I don't have the gas money anyway, so I stayed home.
Now, those of you in the KC area who might take offense that I did not dine with you, please realize I'd had about 15 "If you aren't doing anything else" invitations, and who can remember who asked first, and plus, I'm just tired and wanted to spend some alone time.
I did eat this SmartOnes turkey meal that I found in my freezer, so I didn't go turkeyless. And I got some decorations up, and even some cleaning done.
I considered going to the meal at what, for lack of a shorter term, I'm calling my church (actually, it would have been shorter to just type the name, now that I think of it), but then I realized I'd need to shower, etc. Also, I woke up very late that day.
It's been a nice break. Next week I have rehearsals galore, so no pizza delivery (which means no pizza delivery money... hooray!). It's almost like having free time.
Anyway, I wanted to share my Thanksgiving confession with the world. Thanks for understanding.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
What I Have To Say
You know, driving around delivering pizzas gives me plenty of time to think of things, and often I think, "That's what I need to post on the non-blog about."
And then, by the time I'm home I'm too tired to bother, and by the time I'm not too tired to bother, I've forgotten all about it... or at least all except for the fact I'd thought of it.
I know I have a rant/friendly lesson on how to put the numbers on you home, and what things to consider when you do this. But I'll save that for later.
I used to have a little tape recorder I could use for this, but I think it might be in the city dump now, as a result of the whole Great Basement Clean-Out of 2005. It would come in handy now, as I could rant into the tape recorder and post the edited rant later.
Anyway, I have many thoughts that aren't making it here. So there.
Hope everyone is having a wonderful life. I'm a great-uncle again. Zachary Cade Leake (I'm guessing on the spelling and I STILL haven't gotten an e-pic yet of him) was born on November 2nd.
It's almost time to put up the Christmas decorations! Hooray!
And then, by the time I'm home I'm too tired to bother, and by the time I'm not too tired to bother, I've forgotten all about it... or at least all except for the fact I'd thought of it.
I know I have a rant/friendly lesson on how to put the numbers on you home, and what things to consider when you do this. But I'll save that for later.
I used to have a little tape recorder I could use for this, but I think it might be in the city dump now, as a result of the whole Great Basement Clean-Out of 2005. It would come in handy now, as I could rant into the tape recorder and post the edited rant later.
Anyway, I have many thoughts that aren't making it here. So there.
Hope everyone is having a wonderful life. I'm a great-uncle again. Zachary Cade Leake (I'm guessing on the spelling and I STILL haven't gotten an e-pic yet of him) was born on November 2nd.
It's almost time to put up the Christmas decorations! Hooray!
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Wah.
Okay, that last post reads much more bitter and angry than I'd intended. Or much more "Wah" than I'd intended.
And I certainly didn't mean to never ask me how I am, especially if you're actually wanting to know.
I just meant that it's fun and exciting to be working all the time.
I kid.
Anyway, wah me.
I got up early today to get some stuff done before another meeting, and while waiting for the dryer to stop, I thought I'd re-read my last post. Glad I did. What a bright start to the day that was!
Hope all is well in everyone's world!
And I certainly didn't mean to never ask me how I am, especially if you're actually wanting to know.
I just meant that it's fun and exciting to be working all the time.
I kid.
Anyway, wah me.
I got up early today to get some stuff done before another meeting, and while waiting for the dryer to stop, I thought I'd re-read my last post. Glad I did. What a bright start to the day that was!
Hope all is well in everyone's world!
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