why i love my friends, parts 3 and 4

PART THREE:

My friend Cari and I have this thing with the TV show "Friends." I can't explain it, it's just a kindred connection that we have. We discovered this connection while eating that peanut butter hamburger thing, and she said it was disgusting. I said, "What's not to like? Hamburger? GOOD. Peanut butter? GOOD." The stars aligned, a chorus of angels started singing, and we just knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that we would always be able to quote friendlines together.

(For those of you who may not be Friends Geeks like we are, the line is from the Thanksgiving episode when Rachel makes a traditional English trifle, but the pages of the cookbook stick together and she makes a combo trifle-shepherd's pie. None of them can eat it, because, as Ross says, "It tastes like feet!" To which Joey replies, "I don't know what's not to like. Custard? GOOD. Jam? GOOD. Beef? GOOD.")

So last night I got a voicemail from Cari. She said, "Amy, I have something for you. Hold on..." and she put the phone up to the television and actually let me HEAR the line. From Friends. Said by Joey. It was truly a beautiful thing.


PART FOUR:

I was on the phone with my friend Julia. I was mid-sentence when she interrupted me with, "I think I'm gonna throw up. I've been spinnin' around in my desk chair for too long."

Also, truly, a beautiful thing.

the simple pleasures in life

You know how when you fill up your coffee card with twelve coffee cup-shaped stamps you get a free cup of coffee?

Today was that day.

why i love my friends, part 2

I was having dinner with my friends Stefan and Kathy last night. We had finished eating and Kathy went to go to the bathroom. While she was gone, I was playing with my food and talking to Stefan. I somehow speared a lemon wedge with a steak knife and decided it would be a good microphone. "I Got You Babe" by Sonny and Cher was on the radio. I proceeded to serenade Stefan quite loudly with sweeping arm motions and everything...using my lemon/knife microphone.

When Kathy returned from the bathroom, instead of looking at me like the weirdo that I am, she promptly grabbed another knife, speared a lemon wedge, and sang harmony with me to "Build Me Up Buttercup."

And we did all this despite the evil glances and stares from the wait staff.

why i love my friends

Last night I was sitting in a booth at Chili's with my friends Isaac, Jason, and Cari (the other funniest-person-I-know). Jason set his glasses down on the table and Isaac picked them up and put them on. He blinked deliberately.

I said, "Can you see?"
"Yes," he said.
"Really? Huh." I replied, thinking--wow that's amazing that he can see clearly out of someone else's glasses.
At least a minute and a half later Isaac added, "But not very well, though."

I love the way his brain works.

more fun with the people in blue

My friend Julia (you know, the funniest person I know) left me a voicemail today. She said, "Hey, I read your blog. You just have a knack for shamelessly entertaining the blue vest-ers at Wal-Mart, don't you?" Oh yes. Apparently I do.

She is referring to my last bit of comedy I pulled at Wal-Mart. It was late one evening, after one o'clock I believe, and we went to the trusty twenty-four-hour-Wal-Mart to pick up some storage solutions. Please don't ask me how I remember this. I just do. I have an incredible memory for things that have no significance or merit.

Anyway, as we entered the store through the big automatic doors and rounded the cart corral, there were three young gentlemen walking toward us. They were obviously employees given that they were wearing the signature blue vests. I burped super duper loud, seemingly unaware that I was in a public place. It was quite a fine burp, I must say...quite big and long for a girl my size. It just wasn't the type of burp you would expect from me, you know, seeing me walk through the entrance.

Anyway, the guy leading the employee pack looks at me and says, "Niiiice" and keeps walking.

I should frequent Wal-Mart more often. Perhaps I could get the "Entertaining Shopper of the Month" award.

saturday night on the town

Tonight, my friend Cari and I were sitting at my dining room table trying to figure out what we should do for the evening. While swing dancing sounded enticing, it seemed like it would take a little more effort than we were willing to give. So we ended up at Wal-Mart purchasing Chex cereal, chocolate chips, peanut butter, and ziplock bags. We were (obviously) making Puppy Chow.

So here's the funny part. At some point I get the song, "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town" (The Rockin' Version) in my head. I'm not sure why. Perhaps Cari had been singing it. Anyway, as we're checking out, I (subconsciously) sing quite loudly accompanied by some air guitar, "Santa Claus is coming to town..." and Cari says, "Yeah he is!" And I respond, without thinking, "Mmm, girl, you KNOW it." The cashier gets this huge grin on her face and says, "That's the most entertainment I've had all evening."

Man it was funny.

Oh, and I also found five dollars.

thanksgiving

I got to sleep in today. I awoke to a clear sunshiney thirty degrees, and the snow hasn't melted yet. My roommate made it to Ohio safely and surprised the crap out of her brother. I talked to my mom on the phone. I made sweet potato casserole and a pecan pie with chocolate chips. It looks as pretty as the ones my grandma makes. I have mashed sweet potatoes all over the front of my t-shirt.

I'm at Todd's with friends and there's a lot of coffee and cooking and a crackling fire in the fireplace. The Discovery Channel is playing an American Chopper marathon. I'm knitting my first scarf ever.

I love this life, and I truly have so much to be thankful for. Without a doubt, I am really happy.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

up the street without a shovel

Let's start with this: It started snowing last night around one o'clock am, and never stopped. There's a completely unexpected seven inches of snow on the ground...and it's still falling.

Now let's back up to this: My roommate is heading to Ohio for Thanksgiving to surprise her brother. Her car is pretty much on its last leg so I told her to take my car. She was going to drive it to work today then take off for her twelve hour trip after work.

That is, until the weather got involved.

She left this morning with an "I love you" and an "I'll miss you" and was on her way. I got in the shower. She came in and got my phone, saying she needed to call hers cause it must've fallen in the snow. She comes BACK IN about fifteen minutes and ten phone calls later completely soaking wet and tells me she's been digging in the snow for her phone while she could hear it ringing. She said she felt like she was on one of those MTV reality shows with a mission.

Anyway, she says goodbye for a second time. I finish getting dressed. Ten minutes later I hear the door...she is still here. She says, "Amy, I'm not getting ANYWHERE in your car." I don a coat and hat and go outside to witness the hilarity of my car stuck in the middle of our residential street, neighbors onlooking, and a perfectly dry and clean SUV (obviously with four wheel drive) trapped behind my car. We live on a cul-de-sac, so there is NO other way out.

I'm standing in the garage laughing, at a loss. I'm completely useless in situations like this. Cassie is already down the driveway, and yells back from the street, "Bring the shovel!" I turn around in the garage scanning, thinking, "We have a shovel?" I am correct. We have no shovel. So I see--behind the trash can, behind the bicycles--the two oars from her johnboat. I grab them and valiantly run down the driveway into the street like I'm saving the day or something. Our neighbor Lynn has some cat litter and is sprinkling and laughing, apparently just as useless as I am in this situation. Her dogs are running around the car as if they're trying to round up cattle. Meanwhile the patient SUV still sits behind my car.

Cassie and I each take an oar and start rowing away the snow, to no avail. The car still just keeps sliding off to one side with its nose way out in the street blocking the passageway. Might I mention that it is a rear wheel drive as well. Finally the very kind man whose name I don't know that lives next door comes down with a real shovel. This is extremely helpful, really. Lynn and I and the driver of the-SUV-trapped-behind-my-car are all pushing, and Mr. Nameless Kindneighbor is shovelling. We are all laughing so hard that I have no idea how we got the car off to the side, but we did.

We stand back, oars in hand, and watch the now free four wheel drive SUV just barrel down the street. Of course she has to stop a hundred yards down to wait for the other three cars that are stuck on the hill leading out of our neighborhood, but we are no longer responsible for her position.

Kansas City does a great job with snowplowing. The world doesn't shut down here when it snows. But we wouldn't know that, because we can't even get ten feet out of the driveway.

mr. pompous vs mr. intelligent

This morning I was sitting on a wooden skid in the middle of a (printing) pressroom with a styrofoam cup of coffee in my hand, staring into space. My coffee had already gone cold and yet the caffeine had still not done its job. As I sleepily watched my co-workers I noticed the look on one of their faces, and involuntarily started to giggle. (I'll change the names here to protect the innocent. Let's call this gentleman Mr. Intelligent.) Mr. Intelligent is a blue collar, very bright, well-experienced head press operator, and knows more about the science of color and ink on paper than most people I've met in my years in this industry.

He was standing face to face with Mr. Pompous. Mr. Pompous is a white collar engineer who likes to use big words and stroke his chin a lot. He wears his pleated suit-pants pulled up so far and belted so tightly that he has a permawedgie. He was talking very fast, at a high volume and equally high pitch. His hands were flailing in the air and he obviously felt very strongly about whatever words were coming out of his mouth.

I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I was watching a most hilarious picture. Because as Mr. Pompous went on and on in his tirade, Mr. Intelligent had this expression on his face which was a very obvious combination of, "Are you for real?" and trying very VERY hard to not burst into laughter. I just love getting to watch a person try to respectfully listen to someone whom they know to be a big idiot.

Oh the entertainment I get to experience day in / day out.

oodle doodle

A couple weeks ago my friend Javier shared this website with me. I don't know why it hasn't crossed my mind to share it with all of you yet, I can only say that perhaps the world wasn't ready for it until now.

I can't even describe it. You will just have to go see for yourself. It is hilarious, adorable, disturbing, disgusting, terrible, and awe-inspiring all at the same time. (It might take a minute to load...wait for it, it's totally worth it.)

And I would love to hear what you think...if you can even formulate words after this experience.

no longer an only child

Today my roommate, our friend Chad, and I were eating chocolate chip peanut butter cookies still hot from the oven and drinking milk straight from the carton like children. Cassie was talking about Olivia, a friend of hers who is eleven years old. She said, "She looks like my little sister."

I said, "I want a little sister." Cassie shot back, in true sisterly form, "I'm your sister, you retard."

Hee hee. I have a sister.

dinner surprise

Having dinner isn't usually such a production. It is also not usually such a delightful surprise.

Tonight we had a party at church for our senior pastor. Afterwards, our group of friends was planning on going out to eat. Sounds fairly easy, doesn't it? Usually. First of all, no one knew what anyone else's plans were. First, I got wind of Salty Iguana, then people started murmuring about Mi Cocina. Really? Mi Cocina? That's so far away.

As we're making our way to the door, we also hear Cheesecake Factory and The Melting Pot, and a second motion for Mi Cocina. Very confused at this point, I stop to talk to my friend Rod in the hallway, because he always makes me laugh. Holly walks by, "Are you coming to Salty Iguana?" Salty Iguana? That's much closer than Mi Cocina. So we decide. We're going to Salty Iguana. It's only about five blocks away.

In Caley's car on the way there I turn on my cell phone and I have three messages from people who have gone to Mi Cocina wondering where we are. We decide to stay the course to Salty Iguana. We get there and they've got eight people scrunched into a table for six. I know three people there, and one of those three not very well. Caley knows one person. We decide that it'd be better if we just leave. Otherwise there would have been rearranging of tables and conversation that took thought. We get back in the car. We finally decide that we think there are chips and salsa at my house and head back there, hungry and tired.

As we pull in the driveway, we see that my roommate is home and our friend Chad is there too. As we walk in the door, they are so happy to see us. Chad yells, "Please help us eat all this Chinese food! We have waaaayyyy too much." Before we can even take off our coats he's made us each a plateful of rice, sweet and sour chicken, and vegetable lo mein.

It took us awhile to get there, but dinner turned out to be great. Yummy stuff and wonderful company to boot.

dr. jean grey's got nothing on me

I have a new super-power. I am cool.

I first learned of this super-power while hanging out with my grandpa when I was a child. He used to sit with me on the front porch and tell me what turn the weather was going to take due to the feelings in his joints. Later I was to learn that he was part of an underground alliance of super-heroes that all possessed this super-power. They were all over seventy years old and had their meetings in front of the filling station each morning smoking pipes and drinking Coca-Colas and coffee.

Basically, it goes like this: either you get an injury or you get old, and then when the weather changes you can feel it. Perhaps different joints tell you different things, like if the elbow hurts it's a low pressure system moving in. If you can feel it in your fingers, thunderstorms are brewing.

A couple months ago I sprained my ankle for the first time in my life. Yes, I'm twenty-nine. Obviously I am not an athlete. How did I sprain it? Er, well...let's see, um, I was skydiving, yes. There was no dynamic change to the angle of attack, and I was unable to increase the lift of the parachute enough to change the direction of flight from its normal full flight glide to level flight. And the turbulence was maniacal. I valiantly landed in a perfect roll and the only thing injured was my left ankle. Yes, that's what happened. (I've never been one to let facts get in the way of a good story, right?)

(Okay fine, I was walking. I was walking and something went terribly wrong. I was talking to Jon, I turned around to walk away, and instead hit the floor. I have no idea what happened. I think the Invisible Man attacked me with an invisible lead pipe because he was afraid I was going to steal his super-power.)

So I woke up this morning and my ankle hurt. It hasn't hurt for a couple weeks now, so this was strange. I concentrated very very hard on my new super-power, as I'm still trying to refine it. I decided that there MUST be a change in the weather. I looked out the window...I was right!! It was foggy and warmer, and drizzling.

Perhaps I should go into meteorology...

say it again, max

I'm not sure why, but Max Lucado just came and spoke at the card factory where I'm employed. It was a better way to spend an hour than working.

First of all, it was so cool to be AT WORK and see so many people show up to this thing. Mandatory company-wide meetings get less turnout. And also cool during the question/answer session to hear someone ask, "So how did you come to know Christ?" I asked him who his favorite author was, and he totally impressed me by saying, "Frederick Buechner." Cause Buechner rocks my socks off.

Since my happy post Sunday night, I've been picking up pieces after the blow of my disappointing news. Sort of like when your house burns down and initially you're just happy to be alive and that your dog made it out safely. But then two days later you're dealing with insurance and replacement and reality, and that sheer joy of being alive with your dog gets lost somewhere in the frustration. That's where I am. Reality is sinking in. Yes, I'm still alive. Yes, I have my proverbial dog. But I am assessing the damage and I am frustrated.

So Max said something that put me back in the joy of being alive with my dog. It was simple, but it was true. He said, "Nothing happens to me that has not passed through the filter of God's love." It was sort of an, "oh yeah, I seem to have forgotten that one" moment. Sure, bad things happen, and certainly we don't have to be happy about them. But my friend Mark tells me to never waste a trial. This trial has passed through the filter of God's love, and he's deemed it okay to happen, and I will learn from it, and he will work good from it...whether it's inherently good or not.

Which brings me to a songline that's been running through my head all day. My friend Jon is an incredible songwriter (you should buy his cd if you know what's good for you) and so much of what he's written speaks so powerfully, so simply. This is one I really needed to remember:

"I am never torn so deep that you can't mend me, and I can never be one step outside your love."

chasing

On the way to work this morning I heard a song, "The Chasing Song" by Andrew Peterson, and it fixed my mind on something that I can't get rid of. It was one of those times when I knew the song, but just couldn't sing along. I could only listen and absorb and internalize. There are many reasons that this song brought me to a stop, but I won't share those right now. I just thought I'd share some of the words, in case it is supposed to effect more than just me today.
---------------------------------------------------------------

Well, I realize that falling down ain't graceful / But I thank the Lord that falling's full of grace / Sometimes I take my eyes off Jesus / And you know that's all it takes

Well, I wish that I could say that at the close of every day / I was happy with the way that I'm behaving

'Cause Job, he chased an answer, the wise men chased the child / Jacob chased her fourteen years and he captured Rachel's smile / Moses chased the Promised Land, Joseph chased a dream / David, he chased God's own heart, all I ever seem to chase is me

lunchtime reminiscing

Today I had lunch with my friend Rob. We used to be neighbors when we lived in apartments, and we saw each other all the time. It was like on "Friends," he was always at my place, I was always at his. But now we both have houses on opposite sides of town, and he's married, and I'm busy...and well, we just rarely see each other anymore. But today we had lunch. We got caught up. At one point he said, "Do you remember that time that I actually found five dollars?" This was followed by me almost shooting Diet Dr. Pepper out my nose I was laughing so hard.

Do you ever do that? Do you ever completely and totally forget about something really funny? And it's just delightful when someone reminds you of it? Here's the story...

I realize this might be difficult to believe (insert sarcasm here), but I tend to tell some pretty boring, irrelevant, meandering stories sometimes. My friend Christine, being well aware of this fact and possessing the same talent for storytelling, adopted this habit of, oh let's say, covering her ass. If she was telling a story and getting that blank stare from the listener that basically said, "I have no clue where you're going here. Does this story have a point?" she had a plan. She would simply stop and say, "And then I found five dollars" in order to give the story a point...fictional though it may be. I found this so hilarious that it was worthy of copying, and it caught on.

Many moons later, I'm out with Christine and Rob. Christine and I are still talking as Rob walks to his apartment to turn in for the evening. My phone rings. It's Rob. "Yes?" I say. "You will NOT believe this. Guess what I just found?" Being too lazy to come up with something funny, I reply, "I don't know, what?" He says through fits of laughter, "Five dollars!" I think he's kidding; I'm not exactly amused. "Funny Rob. That's a little old though." But then he explains to me that he's for real, he's actually picked up a five dollar bill in the parking lot. Maybe you had to be there, but man it was funny.

Er...and then I found five dollars?

twenty-two years, same logic

I've seemed to do a pretty good job of being rude to friends, family, and co-workers when they send me those emails like, "You've been tagged by the angel of friendship. Pass this email on to four hundred and seventeen people and you will have good luck for eighteen years. If you don't pass it on, you will be hit by a nine iron in the head this very afternoon." I hate those things. So I usually send something pretty snotty back, and over time the ridiculousness has subsided.

So these days when I get one of those mass forwarded emails like that, I assume that the person sending it must have at least read it and deemed it funny enough to pass along since they've endured my heckling about this sort of thing numerous times.

The one I got today was a bit of an eye roller, but there was one line that cracked me up. The premise is that some people asked some kids what love looks like. Typical mass forward email crap. Most of the kids said kindhearted things about their parents or grandparents, and one little boy said something about the real meaning of Christmas. It was sorta cute. But this one kid, bless her heart, named Noelle, made me laugh out loud. The email says she's seven years old. I love seven year olds. They're starting to get their minds around the idea of being smartasses.

So this is what little seven year old Noelle had to say about the definition of love: "Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."

Noelle is seven. I'm twenty-nine. But if I told a guy that I liked his shirt and then he wore it every day, I think that'd be pretty rad. He would get a million cool points in my book.

excuse me, sir, but is that really necessary?

Do you ever experience something and you just can't seem to get your mind around it? For example, one day my friend Sean was mountain biking. He took a break in the middle of his ride to have a cigarette (I know, I see the irony too) and his cell phone rang. Not recognizing the number on caller ID, he answered with a questioning, "hello?" There was a gentleman on the other end of the line speaking Spanish. Sean, in all his goodness, tried to communicate to the gentleman that he had no idea what he was saying. He said, "No hablo ingles," and hung up the phone. Then he realized that he'd just told someone (who was speaking Spanish) that he doesn't speak English. And proceeded to bust a gut laughing.

The feeling I'm talking about is that feeling that the Spanish-speaking gentleman on the other end of the line must have experienced.

Case in point: this afternoon, I was driving from work to a restaurant to meet a friend. Pertinent information: it has been raining all day today. I was on a fairly residential street and I noticed off to my right a man, wearing a raincoat, standing in the rain watering his lawn with a garden hose.

I think I might have trouble sleeping tonight because of that one.

elegant, fine dining

Lunch was a mess. I checked the intranet site and the menu was less than savory. When the cafeteria is serving "beef on bun" and "red beans with rice" it makes one wonder about the financial security of the company. I mean seriously these are the delicacies of college days fondly remembered. Tomorrow we will probably have Ramen noodle spaghetti and chicken surprise. But all is forgiven the day they serve Cowboy Cookies. Sticky, gooey, oatmealy goodness with chocolate chips. Ahh. Anyway I'm chewing some pretty potent gum right now to rid my mouth of the taste of lunch. Can a tomato really go stale??

repositioning my paradigm

This morning I got my news...the news I was so nervously and impatiently anticipating. It was disappointing; what I heard was not what I wanted to hear. But as the day has gone on I've looked around me, and the news isn't as disappointing to me now as it was at ten am today when I first received it...for two reasons.

1) I talked to two friends following the reception of this news...and they had both received WORSE news. Hey, life's not all about me. My tears for them were more numerous than my tears for me. God has given my heart bigger things to pray for than my own self.

2) I am blessed. That is really the bottom line. If my news had been different, I would simply be MORE blessed. It's not between being blessed and not being blessed, it's between being incredibly blessed and phenomenally blessed. The more I processed not being able to experience Plan A, I realized that in all honesty, Plan B doesn't suck. As a matter of fact, it kind of rocks. My life, all in all, is extremely rad.

It's all about perspective. I would like to thank God for shifting my paradigm today. At this moment, I can't imagine being more thankful. In retrospect, I've had a simply beautiful day.

People I'm thankful for off the top of my head (there are more, I assure you, but these are the ones I've talked to today):

CM: For knowing me as well as she does, and choosing to stick around anyway.
CW: For diving into this new friendship and being the full spectrum of sister in Christ to fellow crude conversationalist.
HW: For hugging me incessantly and making me feel soooo loved.
AV: For being such a light in the midst of her own darkness.
JS: For making me cry all the time. No really, it's a GOOD thing.
JH: For the joy he brings my world just by merely being alive in it.
IA: For believing in me so purely, and encouraging me where I need it the most.
SM: For grieving with me, and delighting with me.
JW: For being the Roger to my Beep Tone.

I have no reason at all to be disappointed. My life is full of the most amazing gifts I could ever imagine.

disciplinarian i am

My cat is standing on the counter eating leftover pizza from a plate. It's a good thing I don't have children.

get back in your box

I had dinner last night with my friend Julia. It rocked my world.

See, this was no ordinary dinner. Julia moved away (about five driving hours away) in July. While I have made a trip to see her and she's made a trip or two back here, I miss her tremendously. She is one of the funniest people I've ever met. She just, to use an over-used phrase, marches to the beat of her own drum. All of her worldly belongings are still here in a storage unit, and sometime around ten o'clock yesterday morning it became winter in a bold way. So she needed warm coats...all of which were in her storage unit. So she drove into town for three hours or so and we had dinner. Our friend Jason stopped by for awhile as well. We had a ball. She had so many new funny stories.

One in particular I just have to relay. I will set the scene.

She substitue teaches. Last Friday she gets called in to teach ISS. (That's in-school-suspension for those of you who never got in trouble growing up.) They don't TELL her it's for ISS until she gets there. Here she is, driving in for a regular old day, thinking she would be teaching language arts or something. But no...in fact, she's babysitting ISS. Now, in this particular district, they have all the grades in the same ISS. She has 12th graders and 4th graders in the same room. She describes the room that houses ISS...it has no windows, and is way too small for the sixteen kids currently in ISS. There are twelve black cubbie things with desks in them in the back of the room. Each ISSer is supposed to be in one. Twelve cubbies, sixteen kids. So she has four around her desk. Each kid is supposed to stay in his/her cubbie and do his/her schoolwork. She says, "If I said it once I said it forty-seven times: 'Get back in your box.' " I commented that I wanted a job in which I could say, "Get back in your box" forty-seven times a day. I plan to try it here at the card factory when the timing is appropriate.

Anyway, here is the best part of the story.

She takes the ISS kids to the bathroom. Normal, everyday occurrence, right? You would think. The 4th grader comes out of the bathroom wet and crying. Julia asks what happened. He says the 12th grader just gave him a swirlie. She asks the 12th grader why in the world he would do such a thing. The 12th grader informs her that the 4th grader just punched in him the nuts.

the man in my life

I've finally figured out pictures. God help you all.

It seems so easy. Before you make fun of me and my technical disabilities, realize that I'm on a Macintosh and the sitelink for pictures for MacOS is a BETA. So...this took some brain power. (Obviously not MUCH brain power, since I figured it out...)

Sam's headshot:


Full bodyshot:


Isn't he handsome? He's perfect. Except for the incessant following and meowing. And the waking up at 5:15 am. And the way he sticks his tail in my face when I'm brushing my teeth. And sits on my laptop when I'm trying to work. And sleeps draped across my neck. And jumps on the counter when I'm trying to cook. And knocks all the Nalgene bottles off the top of the fridge. And attacks the sheets when I'm trying to make the bed. And trips me up everytime I walk out the door. And gets in the shower with me. And digs through the trash. And bangs on the wood blinds. And slides across the kitchen floor when he stops from a full-on run.

Oh wait, that's just cute.

a la the wheel

This picture is for Sugar Muffin's entertainment.



Caption is as follows:

(From left...)
Man in suit and tie: "Heavens me. Have these people even SHOWERED all weekend?"
Holly: "He's pretty."
Seth: "She's pretty."
Isaac: "That's funny."
Guy in camo hat: "Hamburger? Good! Peanut butter? Good! Ketchup? Good!"

number one, baby

I just had a thought. Exactly 7 years from now, at eleven o'clock and eleven minutes, it will be 11/11/11; 11:11.

That's a lot of ones.

peanut butter fudge, peanut butter burgers...

I've just come back from lunch. Crown Center is just an odd shopping mall. They were filming some sort of television show in the area in which Sean and I usually eat, so we had to involuntarily shake things up a little and sit somewhere else. We thought of dragging a table onto the set of the show and just saying, "Excuse me, but we eat here every Thursday. You'll have to go over there." Of course we didn't. Being carted off by Mall Security isn't on my To-Do list today.

Even from the strange place we ended up sitting, we still passed the fudge store on the way out of the building...that smell is just heavenly. But it's super expensive stuff. I want to make some fudge soon, it has to be cheaper to make than to buy, right? Ooh, I know, I want peanut butter fudge.

Speaking of peanut butter...have you ever had one of those hamburgers like Elvis liked with the peanut butter on it? I experienced my first a couple weeks ago. Quite honestly I liked it. My friend Cari, bless her heart, tried it with full intentions of loving it (I mean, "Meat? Good! Peanut butter? Good!") and got really grossed out. I can't eat something as common as a ham sandwich and yet I loved the "guberburger" as it was dubbed at this particular restaurant. Try it sometime. Take a jar of peanut butter with you into McDonalds or Wendys, and get a burger without mayo or mustard or ketchup. Spread some pb all over it and chow down. I don't guarantee you'll like it, but it'll be a good story to tell. Better yet, try to get everyone in the restaurant to try it with you.

anticipation

I am hungry. I do not understand. It's a bit past nine, and I had an entire cup of yogurt just an hour or so ago. I think my stomach would rather have fancied pancakes.

Anticipation is the word for today.

I am anticipating a lot, but perhaps I should just enjoy the here and now. I am anticipating lunch, because I have a wonderful peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple on which to dine. Then I am anticipating four o'clock, because then I will be off work. And I am anticipating tonight, because I'll be watching a friend perform improv comedy and I just love that stuff. Saturday I get to hang out with a friend and eat the greatest muffins on earth. And Saturday night there is a birthday party. Lots of things to anticipate.

But mostly I am anticipating nine thirty on Sunday morning. I feel it in my stomach. It's not nerves, it's just...the opposite of patience. Impatience. Yes, a word exists for that. I will be receiving big news. News that could make me very very happy, or disappoint me. It's difficult to not anticpate one or the other. This question that I will have answered Sunday, it's been a question since May. So it's easy to see why I'm seething with anticipation.

But Matthew 6:34 says, "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Obedience is tough sometimes.

So let's change the subject. Five things I am thankful for today:
1) Tonight is supposed to be the first freeze of the season. No more ragweed!!
2) Received two hilarious phone calls from two great friends last night. They gave me the giggles.
3) Had a wonderful, renewing evening of catching up with my friend Caley last night. I've missed her. Plus she made some great meatball stew and we had spicy bread.
4) The weekend starts tomorrow at four pm.
5) The God of the universe knows my name. And my heart.

I'm a bit calmer now. And work is beckoning.

here comes the bride, drinking one percent milk

My roommate (the incredible cook and talented blackmarket hairstylist) said the funniest thing tonight.

We were talking about how we didn't really care to have weddings. The subject was up because my friend Mark is getting married soon. I have never been one to particularly enjoy weddings, or plan one in my head for years as some girls do, or be interested in anything remotely to do with a wedding. Don't get me wrong, I would love to be married one day, I just don't need a big fancy wedding to get me there. In fact, I really don't WANT a big fancy wedding. If my husband would like one, he is more than welcome to plan it...just tell me when and where to show up and what to wear and I'll comply.

I'm off subject...I was talking about her funny comment. So, she says, with the straightest face in the world, "I think I could handle a wedding if it were a theme wedding." I start laughing, cause that's funny. She looks at me, "What? Like tell everybody to dress in their best flannel. Or everyone come as a Napoleon Dynamite character." She's serious. I love her.

And I truly can't wait for her wedding, whenever that may be. Maybe I'll get to be a bridesmaid and wear a cheerleading uniform.

smokin' hot

I am one of those people who will usually pretty openly tell someone else how good they look. I figure people get bombarded all the time with crap from the media, so why not offer up a little redemption? I mean, there is usually something beautiful in everyone...after all, God created them exactly the way he wanted to.

But what I have noticed in being this way is that people are just NOT OKAY with compliments. They find them very hard to take. I'm not immune to this phenomenon either. Last night my friend Brian said, "You're smokin' hot." I am sure he was kidding. As a matter of fact, I thought it was so funny that through my laughter I said, "I'm going to write that down! November eleventh...no, ninth (I have trouble with days and dates)...got called smokin' hot." My friend Rod, overhearing, said, "Well you are." Gulp. No I'm not. Here's the thing, I could NOT say thank you. It was too difficult. Much easier to get all embarrassed and deem them way too kind for their own good. Which is what I did, I took the easy way out.

This is something I need to work on. When someone says, "Wow you did a good job" I just need say thank you. When I stumble and mumble that well, no, of course I didn't...then I'm calling the complimenter a liar, and discounting whatever good thing that God just did through me. Why am I adept at seeing good in other people and not in myself? Character flaw, obviously. See, there I go again.

So, thank you Brian. Thank you Rod. I appreciate your compliments. Until last night I never saw "smokin' hot" as being in my realm of possibility. I still think that perhaps there was some weird inaudible soundwave radiating from the speakers that tweaked the reality part of your brains, but I will take your compliments and appreciate them.

But dudes you should see me today. The hat I'm wearing and the way my unwashed hair is sticking out in interesting directions...it kind of makes me look rather homeless. There goes my smokin' hot status.

afternoon bliss

Well, I've eaten my spaghetti squash and I'm still not feeling witty. But since I feel this becoming a new addiction I feel compelled to write ...something. Just words apparently. Words meandering with no function.

I read the blog of the friend, let's call her Sugar Muffin, who started me on this in the first place. It was way wittier than mine. She actually has funny stories and stuff. Mine is a rather boring meandering with me through my day. So, Sugar Muffin, if you are reading this, I am thankful for the color orange. I appreciate your color very much as well. I also am thankful for blue, and yellow, and brown. But most especially orange. It's my favorite color, my alma mater's color, the color of my shampoo, the color of my cat, and the color of oranges...which are wonderful fiber-filled fruits.

While on the subject of thankfulness (timely) I would like to point out that I am NOT thankful for the Christmas decorations that surround me. If working at this to-remain-nameless Kansas City card factory has done nothing else for me, it's made me hate the commercialization of Christmas. Seriously, I would quite enjoy celebrating Halloween and Thanksgiving for the wonderful holidays that they are...not days that fall in the shadow of pre-Christmas. I have already heard James Taylor cooing Christmas carols and it catapaults me into this mental fetal position of rocking back and forth murmuring. I have quite the mind to not celebrate at all this year. Of course, I will praise my Lord for the fact that he was willing to come here to this earth and be born and live and die just to spend eternity with me...but I just might not put up a Christmas tree. I'm not a fanatical ooh-Santa-is-Satan-spelled-differently weirdo, I'm just tired of the Christmas marketing season expanding and expanding and swallowing up my favorite holiday of the year: Halloween. Honestly, a holiday in October should NEVER have to compete with a holiday in December.

But I AM thankful for so many things. Perhaps I'll point them out in small doses. I usually write down five things I'm thankful for each day anyway, so I guess I'll share some of them.

But later.

what to say

So far my day hasn't consisted of much. I've been awake for nearly five hours, but not exactly functioning. I did manage to feed the cats, clean myself, get to work, eat some food, and pray for awhile. I've chatted with my friend Jon over iChat but as he was busy we didn't get very far.

A blog. It's a new thing to me. It should be witty, right? I'm not so witty yet. It's still early in the day.

Forty-five minutes until lunch. My roommate made spaghetti squash and I have a wad of it in tupperware. She is wonderful to cook for me.

Tonight I get to see a friend that I haven't seen in nearly a month, and haven't spent quality time with in nearly three months. I miss her and apparently she's changed her hair. She won't tell me how, though, it's supposed to be a surprise. I like surprises, unless it's a bad surprise, like owing four grand on your taxes or something. But Caley's new hairdo should be a pleasant surprise. Come to think of it she hasn't seen my new hairdo either. My roommate the cook cut it for me for free. She's not a hairdresser. She's a purchasing manager.

My coworker a cubicle away is blowing his nose. I am not sure what it is about men past fifty blowing their noses, but it's not a sound I like. Woe to my husband (if I ever get one) the day he turns fifty. "Honey you can poop with the door open but please go out of earshot to blow your nose."