Once upon a time...

My journey - part 1

2009-01-13T21:46:00.003-05:00

There are times in life when you just have to drop everything and bust out your hula hoop. It's at times like these, when I get the most depressed. That's because I don't know how to hula hoop! I blame this on my bringing up, and the fact that I never had an opportunity to dance. We all know that the secret to hula hooping is in the hips. If you don't have the hip shake, how are you supposed to do it? I'm afraid my life may never be complete until I can master the hula hoop, and consequently the hip shake. Where do I begin you ask? Well, I think the answer to this question may be hidden within the words of Shakira - Hips don't lie. And so, from this I begin my journey.

Candy Opposition

2005-11-17T23:05:00.000-05:00

Today I stumbled across my left over Halloween candy, which I had forgotten in my drawer. I poked around in the brown paper bag in attempts of finding something chocolatey, but instead I found a strawberry Push Pop. Now, If you're like me, you probably have many cherished child hood memories of special occasions, sibling rivalries, trips to the ocean, and Push Pops. For my brother and I, no shopping trip was complete without a fun, flavor filled, diabetes inducing Push Pop!

I smiled as I tore off the plastic wrapping and tasted the familiar flavor once again. I couldn't help but appreciate the fact that I had finally found something unchanged since I was a little kid. This was short lived however, because when I tried to push the pop up higher my finger just hit the bottom of a solid plastic container. Confused, I tried pulling off the bottom of the dispenser, figuring it was just a new sanitary precaution. This also proved futile, even after enlisting the help of several pointy metal objects as well as my teeth.

For a while I just looked bewilderedly at the deceitful wrapper. Then I saw it. In smaller letters to the right of the Push Pop logo was the description: "Now With POP UP ACTION!"

I stared numbly at the wrapper for a few moments, then back to the candy that hadn't "popped up" at all. After hitting the dispenser a few times and trying to wedge the candy out with my teeth, I came to the realization that the candy was in fact, not going to come out.

I decided to check out this new concept on the web site, and sure enough it was all there. This is what I read: "Now Push Pops are spring loaded! So your Push Pop pops UP, pops UP, pops UP all by itself! No more sticky fingers!!! But still the same great taste!"**

What I'm trying to understand is, why would I want to buy a Push Pop if I can't, you know, push it? Not only have I lost this classic piece of my childhood, but there is at least an inch of Push Pop left in that dispenser and I have seen no spring loaded action! I want my candy! I want my memories!

So I was thinking, maybe this is just a small step in desensitizing and preparing us for even more drastic changes! Next thing you know our Lego's will already be assembled and our DunkAroos will already be dunked! But who wants to buy pre-dunked DunkAroos? Not me!

So my faithful (and not so faithful) blog readers, unite with me in boycotting spring loaded Push Pops! Although this action will do absolutely nothing to hinder the production of these pops, it may in the long run prevent cavities. If we can't have our Push Pops how we want, we might as well have nice teeth.

**http://www.topps.com/Confectionery/NewPushPop/PushPop.html

Off with her hair!

2005-11-15T22:00:00.000-05:00

Today dreams were shattered, brains were fried, and thousands of hair folicles lost their heads.

I woke up late today for the first time since the time change. Daylight Savings is bliss! Or is it the end of Daylight Savings? Either way, I'm a happy camper when I gain an hour. But inspite of the extra hour, I was late today anyway, and completely forgot about the testing I was supposed to be taking. Fortunately, preperation would not have helped me on this test, seeing as it asked me questions about the voltage and frequency patterns of electrical units, tool names, and other mechanical lingo, none of which I have any knowledge about. I can make a safe bet that the results won't suggest persuing a career as an electrician or automechanic. Good thing I took that test though, I may have thought tech school was for me! So anyway, by 11:00 my brain was sufficiently fried.

After school I went to lunch with Kate, and then came home for a little while. I checked my email. Low and behold, the very message I'd been waiting for had arrived! Most people who talk to me already know that I've been wanting to attend a college in London for a semester as an exchange student. Yesterday I requested the tuition information for Richmond American International University in London, the school I have been drooling over for the past several weeks. My heart sunk a little bit when $40,000 a year jumped out at me. Needless to say, I think I'm going to have to eliminate that one as an option. Maybe I can downsize a bit, choose something that doesn't look quite so much like a castle :'(

In other news, I got a haircut today and I am proud to announce that my hair now has several layers and smells like a creamsicle. Yum.

Men and Women as Consumers

2005-11-06T20:17:00.000-05:00

There are two major differences between men and women as consumers; their ability to adapt to unexpected circumstances, and their definition of want versus need. For some reason, men don't understand when a woman sees the need to stop for an item not found on the pre-made list. However, in all reality, a list is merely a guideline to ensure that the basic items are not forgotten. What would life be like if the only items purchased we're things such as toothpaste, socks, and milk? I dare not think of the repercussions.

'Why are we stopping?' and 'What do you need in there?' are common questions that women are faced with everyday while attending to the needs of the household. The truth of the matter is, that women love to shop. It's in their nature and they know what they're doing. Contrary to the popular male belief, women are in control from the second they step foot into the store to the second they carry their bags out. Just because they come home with a few extra items doesn't mean that the situation was out of control, and in fact, the items are almost always essential to the health and happiness of the individual they are intended for.

This is where the definition of want versus need comes in. To a man, a necessity is something vital to ones health, hygiene, or basic comfort. This could include items such as food, soap, the TV remote, etc. What they don’t know is that women, unlike men, not only love to shop, but have an inborn need to shop. Browsing the mall is a lot like flipping through the channels and choosing the best sports game to watch. It may seem pointless to the opposite sex, but it is in fact very important to their mental state. This concept can be difficult for some men to understand, but it’s important that they don’t ignore it.

There are key phrases that every man should learn to recognize and act upon. ‘I have to run a few errands, is there anything you need at the store?’ is a subtle way of finding an excuse to turn a simple post office run into a full fledged shopping trip. At this time it is usually best to make up a small inexpensive item. This way there is no unnecessary loss of money, and more importantly, no unnecessary loss of limb due to the women’s inability to subdue her desire.

Women see shopping very much like men see sports. It’s a competition to seek bargains, a challenge to find deals, and a self satisfaction to reach the goal. Telling a woman that she doesn’t need to buy something is like telling a man that he doesn’t need to watch the last ten minutes of the football game because it’s obvious which team is going to win. Both scenarios, obviously, are no-no’s.

Flipping the coin over we have men as consumers. Very unlike women, men go into a store to conquer. With the list in one hand and the shopping cart in the other, they execute their mission with the utmost perfection and rapidity. To the naked eye a man may seem to have a natural navigational ability around the store. However, having experiences proving against this theory, I must say it is more likely that he made up a detailed plan with the most direct route quite a while before entering.

As an early teenager I remember accompanying my father on trips to radio shack. Every time we went he would make me put a walkie talkie in my purse to ensure that he would not have to waste any time looking for me when his purchases were finished. It was mortifying walking through the mall with my little purse overburdened with a large walkie talkie that barely fit in my hand, not to mention the purse. It was even worse standing in line in a store, surrounded by older teens, and hearing my fathers tinny voice reverberating from my side. To my father, this was common sense.

‘Wouldn’t this look amazing in the living room?’ and ‘Hey, why don’t we take a peek in here!’ are questions that men are commonly plagued with while trying desperately to save time and complete their lists. Unfortunately for them, it is usually more important that the women are not denied these excursions than for the men to complete their tasks.

There are very few things that can actually distract a man from his course of action in the store. This is probably why so many advertisements portray beautiful girls as their advertising technique. Sometimes these images are just enough to skew the man’s vision to where he can see the store around him. For that brief, vulnerable moment, he can take in the items and find some that he deems “necessary” for health and happiness, such as a toolbox or lawnmower. Although these advertisements do nothing for women, it isn’t important, because women’s eyes are already scanning the store as they browse through.

Men have their own ways of rationalizing gifts as well. This is why women usually do the Christmas and birthday shopping. If it we’re up to a man he would buy the cheapest, most practical item possible. This is why so many women find scarves in their packages year after year. It’s always a struggle for me to buy a present for my father, because every time I ask him what he wants his answer is something like ‘I need new socks’, or ‘I’m low on windshield wiper fluid.’ Obviously, windshield wiper fluid would not be a presentable gift. For this reason, my mother and I are not only burdened with the task of doing all the Christmas shopping ourselves, but also making sure that he stays away from the stores throughout the entire Christmas season.

If it were up to men then most houses would probably be a lot more authentic. Homemade decorations are top of the list in their minds. Why spend hundreds of dollars on elegant curtains and matching rods when you can make your own out of used sheets? And why buy a $22 wreathe from your daughter’s class fundraiser when you can wrap some fir branches around an old bicycle tire?

Other foreign territories to men are name brands and specifics. When a man says he needs soap, that’s exactly what he means: soap. He probably just wants to wash the dirt off his hands and face so his wife won’t complain about it. On the other hand, if a women says she needs soap she could be referring to her Dove hand soap, her Neutrogena moisturizing face wash, or that coconut-lime body wash that she loves. Of course, there are a few exceptions to this rule, like my brother, who refuses to use the two in one Suave shampoo that I bought him because my Herbal Essence Conditioner makes his hair silky and smooth. As a general rule, however, men are more interested in the indications label than the name of the product

In conclusion, it’s not hard to see that when it comes to consumers, women are the connoisseurs. Without women, men would just be poorly dressed, course haired, dry skinned tall people who give scarves for Christmas year after year. Where would this world be without us? I pray we never find out.

Personal narrative with no relevance.

2005-09-20T19:33:00.000-04:00

The Autumn of my sophomore year in high school was an experience I will never forget. There was of course the crisp fall air, the vivid reds and oranges of falling leaves, and perhaps unique to my memory, the screaming of hundreds of school kids. Now, these were not ordinary school kids let me tell you. These were field trip pumped, 6 year old apple picking fiends.
The largest cause of this predicament was that for a logic I may never quite understand, I had decided to home school for a year. Another contributing factor was that my parents run an apple orchard, hosting thousands of children every year for an authentic orchard experience.
My books not scheduled to arrive until November, what better use was there of my time than a job? Apparently this was my parents logic, because I was scheduled for 9 a.m. every morning. It was a simple routine that I actually learned to enjoy over the weeks.
At 9 O'clock I walked down to the big gray and red barn that served as a check point, gift shop, and fruit stand in one. I loved the feeling of stepping out into the cool autumn air, and the consequent redness that would spread through my cheeks every morning. The dew was still slightly frosted onto the stiff blades of grass and I could hear the distinct crunching noise your feet always make as they leave permanent prints in the frozen ground. As I walked through the large apple shaped door I was immediately hit with the smell of Poppy's cider donuts. (Poppy is my grandfather and he makes the best cider donuts in the world. I'm not sure exactly how he got his name, but I think it might have something to do with his tradition of making popcorn every Saturday night.)
Once I arrived on site I had something I needed to take care of before getting down to business. You see, me and one of the other employees had a pact. Every morning I would walk into Poppy's little work space and take two cinnamon sugared donuts to go, and then one to eat at the moment. The truth was that I only did eat that one donut. The other two were smuggled out to Kim, my co-worker. Honestly, it was doing everyone a lot of good, because I know that Poppy loved to see me wanting three of his donuts every morning. As for Kim, well he really appreciated it too because he got a free breakfast!
Now that my friendly duty was served, I headed to the back room to pour what seemed to be an endless number of Dixie cups full of apple cider. The cider jugs were so cold that I finally invested in some bright blue monkey gloves with bananas on the finger tips. You wouldn't see me pouring without them.
Once the busses started pulling in there were several jobs that I would do depending on where I was needed. The groups had to be checked in of course, and then there was always the duty of leading each group to their activities. This job proved to me to be one of the most frustrating. No matter how slow it felt like I was walking, the curious children would linger farther and farther back, their senses absorbing every detail of the new place. I would stop and turn, kindly prompting them to keep walking, but behind my smile was a nagging impatience and an uncomfortable shifty feeling that you can only understand when hundreds of eyes are on your back.
Although leading was not my favorite task, it doesn't mean I didn't love working with the kids. My favorite job was helping out in the Apple Tree Theater. My responsibility was to choose several of them to help out in various aspects of the show, whether it be dressing up on stage or controlling the spot lights. It was so much fun to see their faces light up when I explained to them what an important job it was they were being given.
One girl, who I will never forget, looked up at me with wide eyes as I walked by in my cowgirl hat.
"Are you a teenager??" She asked, her shrill voice in complete awe.
"As a matter of fact I am!" I exclaimed, beaming back at her.
I couldn't help laughing at how fascinated she was in me. It made me stop and wonder how many of these kids actually looked up to me.
My favorite memory of the entire experience happened one day in mid October. My aunt was visiting us from California, and at this particular moment she was standing by the coffee counter, which she visited frequently. I was pouring cider in the back room when I heard her scream. I quickly set down the cider gallon on the counter and ran out to see what had happened. It took me a second to realize that she was actually bent over in laughter, not in pain.
"LOOK!" She managed to yell between her laughter and desperate gulps for air.
Curious, if not a little confused, I looked out the window where her finger was pointing. I saw two teachers talking, their class formed in groups around the tables. Then, as my eyes lowered, I saw what she was pointing at. Right next to, but unannounced to the teacher was a lone boy, his pants at his ankles and arms at his sides, peeing all over the ground. His classmates stood uncaring around him and his teacher, so engulfed in her conversation, had not even noticed. Finally she turned and saw the boy, screamed, and frantically started trying to pull up his pants while he stood there nonchalantly enjoying his field trip. At this point I don't know what became of him, mostly because my aunt and I were both on the floor, clutching our sides, and laughing without shame in front of all the other customers in the store.

Supply and Demand

2005-09-04T18:05:00.000-04:00

Today something very odd happened. My stalker asked my father if he could marry me. This was especially odd seeing as I had just turned down his pleadings for me to date him, even the offer to be my slave, not 5 days ago. I thought I was very clear that I did not like him and would not date him, even after he insisted that he was the best guy for me and that 5 years was not that much of an age difference. So you can imagine my surprise when he shows up at my house 5 days later and asks if I'm ready for marriage. My father kindly responded that I was not ready for marriage, at least not as long as I was living under his house, so my stalker proceeded to ask my father to call him if I happened to move out of the house. He used the bargaining chip of "I'm thinking of starting college." Fortunately for me, but disappointingly for him, this was not enough for my father to sell me into marriage. He also stated that he was afraid that if he waited so long that I would find someone else, and he would lose me. Now, as far as my recollection goes, I don't remember ever letting him have me in the first place, but maybe "no I won't date you" has more than one meaning these days.

First of the Last

2005-08-29T23:00:00.000-04:00

Ok, so It's the first day of school. I've been doing this since I was 6 years old it should be all old hat right? But this isn't just any first day of school. This is the first day of my last year of school. Last year! That would have to mean that I'm a senior, wouldn't it. So I am.

Last night I was honestly going to go to bed real early. I was going to face the day like a man, mind you a much trendier, better groomed man, and..well, more like a woman. It's just an expression, gosh. But anyway it didn't work out so here I am at 6:30 in the morning and I have no idea where I am or what my name is because the sleep fairy passed me over last night and I'm disoriented.

I crawl out of bed and into the bathroom. God, I look horrendous. My hair is every which way and my jammies are a million sizes too large and I just need a nice long shower to get myself in the groove but..oh right, school. I have a schedule now don't I...

I notice my capris hanging on the shower rod that I set out last night, after spending about 30 minutes scrubbing a stain with at least 5 different detergents. I am so proud of me. I go over to take them down and admire my handy work.

Hah, that's funny it almost feels like the capris are...why are my capris wet? How could they still be wet? I mean, I set them out last night it usually only takes one night to hang dry just about any item unless...unless I forgot to rinse all the detergents out. I'm an idiot.

I quickly throw the capris into the washing machine, and arrange for my mum to bring them to me while she brings me my Six Flags ticket. I forgot to mention, not only is it the first day of my last year of school, but I'm ditching half of it and going to six flags with my friend! Brilliant, hey?

I arrive at school with all my books in my arms, my backpack full of notebooks over my shoulder, and my purse slung around some empty limb. Ok Kimmi, your a senior. You are at the top of the school here! Just stride in with confidence! Show that smile and put your books in your locker and...my locker. Uh-oh. I have no idea what my locker combination is. I just had it written down the other day and I know I put it in my purse, so why isn't it here? Yes, so far I'm doing really brilliantly. Now I have to take all my books down to assembly with me.

I've gone down the hallway lugging these books and now I've finally reached the assembly room so I can sit down. No one will notice the books if I just put them underneath my chair.

Oh lovely, the principle is speaking now. The annual principles welcome does not usually consist of much welcoming. More or less just rules.

"A jacket can be worn over a school appropriate logo shirt as long as the material is fleece or cardigan." The principle carries on, after a while moving on to "I know some of you are having difficulties with drugs and alcohol and I want you to know that we are here for you, but if you bring them to campus then you will be expelled, we mustn't cross this line , especially at a Christian school where..."

The English teacher isn't here today, huh, that's odd. I think there is a fly on that girls head, someone should swat it! I would swat it if I were there.

"...Leaving campus at any time before classes are finished will be severely punishable by multiple detentions, suspension, and inability to participate in any sports for the rest of the school year..." The voice drones on. I wonder how she got her hair to stick like that, it really must have been quite a feat.

Kimmi! Stop it! You're a senior you have to set the example for all these less fortunate under classmen who still have full class schedules (snicker). Actually, on second thought, don't teach them to listen to this it's a load of crap anyway. I'm doing them a favor. Wow is she still talking??

Once the assembly has finished I head upstairs and go to my first class, English. Mr. Loss isn't here so Mr. Malin is substituting and he just wants us to write a journal entry on "a picture of yourself that you have seen recently, and what you like about it." OK, that's easy enough.

I write some bull about a picture of my brother and I holding hands as children and how it moved me. It really was a good journal write I think. Too bad Mr. Loss doesn't bother to read any of our work anyway. English class is painfully uneventful and next is a study hall. This should be fun I like study halls! The teachers just supervise while we all talk or watch TV or goof off in their classroom. Of course there is some studying...occasionally.

I look at my schedule and it tells me to go to the science room for study hall. That's a disappointment. I was hoping for the English room so I could sleep on the couches, or maybe the computer lab so I could check my mail. Oh well, now I can at least have one class in the science room with the new teacher.

I walk into the science room where a few other student are already sitting and take a seat next to my friend Chris. OK, so it's not just a few students, it's all of them. I had a little delay getting into my locker so I'm a bit late...

"Great well you all are looking good here except..you two are a little too close why don't you spread apart some so there's just one student per desk." The teacher says.

Is she talking to me? This is a study hall you can't tell me where to sit...and hey! These are two-person desks what do you mean I'm too close? I look up and the eye contact confirms that she is in fact speaking to me. I give her an odd look and move to an empty double desk.

"Ok good. I don't have a syllabus for this class but I'll have assigned seating tomorrow. There will be no talking, just read or study. If I see you aren't working then I have plenty of glassware that needs washing...

Glassware? Washing?

"...I actually graduated from SLA myself and I'll be..." She continues.

I can't believe what I'm hearing. Doesn't she realize the standard procedure for study halls here? Someone needs to tell her so that we can get back to enjoying ourselves! Washing dishware? What is she talking about?! I pick up my book, Confessions of a Shopaholic, and start reading the first paragraph.

"...I like to ski but since I injured my hip a few years back I haven't been able to enjoy it as much..." Continues the teacher.

I read a few more paragraphs and glance up again.

"...So the flies come out around December down in Alabama where I'm from..." She just keeps going. Didn't she just say something about a no talking rule? Gosh, she's like the energizer bunny.

Thank God. That was the bell. As I leave I see Chris approach the teacher and say something like "you are going to have personality clashes if you keep doing study hall this way." Way to go Chris, show her what we're made of! Oh. She just assigned him to washing glassware next period...Maybe we'll just have to take this from a different approach.

My next class is U.S. Government. I hear it's a pretty interesting class so I'm looking forward to it somewhat. It can't be any worse than study hall. I sit down in an empty chair and wait for him to start talking. Somewhere in the middle of his speech a thought occurs to me. He's cultivating democrats and I'm severely outnumbered. My friend and fellow republican Kate has a notebook which says "You be quiet, I'll be right." I can tell this will be an interesting semester.

Following Gov. is my final class, Bible IV. He talks a bit about nothing and before I know it there's the bell! I'm free! I'll just go to the office and sign myself out, call Aubie and we'll be off to Six Flags!

As I approach the office I see the secretary sitting at her desk behind the clear glass walls that make up the office. I tap lightly on the door, walk in, and she looks up at me expectantly.

"erm, hi! I need to get an early release form. I have plans this afternoon and I'm going to have to miss the handshake." I say, trying to pull off a regretful expression.

"I'm sorry, your required to say." She says with...is that a smile of satisfaction on her face?

"Well, I know there is an event this afternoon but I don't have any more classes and I really can't stay. I already paid $30 for my ticket (I leave out the part where I can use the ticket any day I want, it really isn't important...) so I'll just have my parents call in and excuse..."

"No, your required to be here, I'm sorry." She just interrupted me! And wipe that grin off your face!

"Look if my parents call in and excuse me I should be able to leave." I'm trying valiantly, why is this such a big deal?

"And I'm telling you that you can't." She says.

I'm getting very frustrated and I have half the mind to yell that she can't keep me here against my parents orders and I'm not required to stay for SA events like the banquet so this shouldn't be any different but I'll keep my mouth shut for now. I think of just leaving but the principles words are echoing through my head about multiple detentions and suspension and such. That's it, I'm calling mum. She'll know what to do.

The phone rings a few times and my dad picks up. Oh great, this could be difficult. I give the phone to the secretary and she speaks to him briefly, hands back the phone with a sickeningly satisfied smile that makes me want to slap her, and sits back down at her desk.

"Dad, let me talk to mum, OK?" I whisper into the receiver.

"Hello?" The familiar voice comes through the ear piece and I feel slight relief.

"Mum I need your help, she won't let me leave! Can you speak with her?" I tap on the glass once more and the secretary...ignores it. She can't ignore me! Where is she going? Come back here, I knocked!

"Mum do you know the office number? Good, can you call it? No, I can't just hand her the phone. No, I need you to call in there. Don't ask why. Just take my word for it OK? Thanks, goodbye." I hang up the phone and sit on the steps.

I see the secretary talking quietly into the phone in the office. It's taking quite a while, I hope we're making progress. Ah yes, I see the smile fading a little. This is good.

The phone hangs up and she looks up at me in irritation. I love irritation. I smile, take the early release form that she is handing me, and walk out the front door with the same smile she was wearing earlier, although I think it looks much nicer on me.

Mrs. Booth, Aubie, and George are all waiting for me in the parking lot already, so I get in the car and we head off towards the park. I think this is going to be a good year.

Pain and Punishment

2005-08-22T23:00:00.000-04:00

Today was very describable. I haven't really written a blog in a long time because I keep doing the same thing over and over and it's just not really describable. Work. Sleep. There's just no interesting details. Given there were a few days that were somewhat interesting, such as the Wednesday night youth events at Mulligans and here where my stalker showed up (yes, we all know who I'm talking about).

Anyway, today my friend Chris came up to fix my bike for me. The chain was...um..stuck somewhere. I'm mechanically challenged and that's the best details that I will be able to provide. So we made a trip to the barn to get some tools..the wrench thing that makes clicky noises (technical term) and he went back up while I searched for a container to get some food for Lassie. As I was walking through the barn I saw something run across the floor and I screamed and jumped about a foot only to discover that it was only a brown bunny. Lets not pass any judgments on my jumpiness it was a big bunny!

So anyway I went back up to the house where Chris was futiley trying to fix the chain. Suddenly he had an epiphany! Just..pull the chain? Whatever it was it worked and the tools were not needed for that. Once the bikes were fixed we decided to ride our bikes down to Rota Springs.

Now, I haven't actually ridden my bike in about 4 years and I think there are some muscles that have been dormant the whole time. I hurt. Everywhere. When we got there I spoon fed most of my ice cream to the goats which was much more satisfying than eating it. The orange mustaches were priceless.

It was just getting dark when I got home and I was not hit by any cars, even though we were in the middle of the road at dusk. After checking on Lassie, who in her excitement wrapped her cable around my legs and closelined me, I went inside and Chris went home.

I decided that since I had not been in the jacuzzi even once this year, and seeing as my legs were twitching and such it would be a good time. Whenever I turn the jets on in the jacuzzi it makes a bunch of foam on the surface and I couldn't help myself so I scooped it up and gave myself a beard and mustache. It's really very underrated I suggest everyone try it at least once It's oodles of fun.

So as I was laying there I saw a shooting star and it was very nice out so I decided that I needed to go up on the roof, but once I got inside I was really tired. I went to brush my teeth while laying on the floor and then I didn't want to get up so I just laid there and kept brushing and brushing, consequently my teeth are very clean. I decided that I would just go to bed but as I came into my room there was my mother, sitting on my bed and using my computer. I took this as a sign that I should go on the roof so I did that, carefully stepping over the world of Lincoln logs that my little cousin August had created on Saturday. I saw another shooting star, on which I wished that my mother would go to bed and then went back to find that she really had gone to bed. I'm telling ya those stars are magic!

So that was my day.

My New Friend

2005-07-29T19:14:00.000-04:00

I met a very interesting person yesterday. I had to go to Walmart to pick up some stuff and develop some pictures, and as my mom was looking at exercise shorts I noticed a Fantastic 4 stretching arm laying on one of the clothing racks. Being the easily entertained person that I am I thought this was great fun, so naturally I tried to see what sort of things I could pick up with it! As I was unsuccessfully trying to pick my purse up off the floor I heard a little voice say, "whats that?". Looking up I saw a little girl, probably about 6 years old, staring at the blue plastic arm in my hand.

"This is a stretching arm like the one in the movie Fantastic 4! You use it to pick up stuff far way. Do you want to try?" I asked.

She just grinned and took the arm from me trying (also unsuccessfully) to pick up my purse. At this point my mom turns around and says: "I would use that arm for tickling!" She took the arm from the girl and pretended to tickle her with it. The girl had a piercing laugh and ran off a little ways, but not for long. Next thing I know she has picked up the arm and after yelling, "I'm going to tickle you", starts chasing me around the clothing section. I ran around in circles around the racks and yelled back, You'll never catch me!! I got half way around one rack and realized that she had changed directions and was coming straight at me! This went on for a little while until she gave up on the arm and moved onto just "I'm going to get you!" After a while her mom came looking for her and she went off obediently but I couldn't help but laugh at how bold she was. Most kids hide behind their mom's when you talk to them. I can only imagine what she is going to be like when she grows up...

The Adventures of Timmy, Episode 2

2005-07-27T00:08:00.000-04:00

It was an average day in the Gane household. Timmy had woken up late, and gone to the tv for some prime time in the daytime television. After flipping through most of the stations, and finding absolutely no cartoons, he decided to run to the market and get some groceries.

The sun shone brightly as Timmy stepped out his door and scanned the yard for his trusty motor scooter. It was tipped over next to the mail box, and he quickly picked it up and headed up the street. As he rounded the corner towards the grocery store he noticed quite a lot of commotion going on around the entrance. A large man in a black and white striped suit appeared to be terrorizing the customers. As he got closer he could hear the mans shouts.

"DANIMALS! GIVE ME DANIMALS!" roared the striped man.

"Is that..it couldn't be! It's Zeeeebruh-Man! The Danimals Yogurt fiend!!" Cried Timmy. "This is a cause for SUUUUPERGANE!!"

Timmy ran into the nearby florist shop and changed behind some shrubberies, then ran out and towards the market. The frenzied Zeeeebruh-Man barely glanced as Timmy charged towards him at his tippity toppest speed. He merely grabbed the walker from an elderly lady nearby and started banging at the market windows, trying to get to the yogurt supply inside.

"That is unacceptable behavior Zeeeebruh-Man!" shouted Timmy through the chaos. "Give that woman back her walker!"

The enraged Zeeeebruh-Man glared at Timmy through bloodshot eyes and shouted "DANIMALS! GIVE ME DANIMALS!"

Seeing a small window of oppurtunity, Timmy pulled out a bottle of Danimals Drinkables and threw it into the buggy round up. Zeeebruh-Man tossed the walker like a toy and ran into the round up after the Drinkable yogurt. Once he got inside, Timmy quickly blocked his exit with several spare carts, and the crowds cheered.

"Give it up Zeeeebruh-Man! You cannot win!" Said Timmy, grinning.

While he looked around at the crowd for some positive feedback, the lady with a walker cast him a seductive look and a wink. This was Timmy's cue to leave. As the sound of the sirens grew steadily louder, Timmy poured out the contents of a Danimals Drinkable into the initials SG, jumped on his scooter, and rode off into the day.

"That is one fiiine brave man." proclaimed the lady wistfully as she watched Timmy turn the corner and barely miss a trashcan.

"Yes he is." Agreed Zeeeebruh-Man. "I can only hope that after my time in the penetentiary and jail cell is done, we can become friends."

On that happy note, the police officers cuffed Zeeeebruh-Man, and once again the day was saved by the infamous SUUUPERGANE! (who is still without groceries)
Zeeeebruh-Man was put on a 5 step program to overcome his addiction to Danimals, and later sued the Danimals company for making such amazingly addicting yogurt.

-The End-

The Adventures of Timmy, Episode 1

2005-07-27T00:04:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time there was a boy named Timmy. Timmy had a funny English accent and pronounced the word zebra wrong. His friend Kimmi thought it was very funny and made fun of him all the time (good naturedly of course). One day as Timmy was on his way home from didgeridoo rehearsal, trying to practice variations in the word zebra, he saw a poor defenseless building surrounded by what looked to be several orphans with gasoline tanks!

"Oh no!" said Timmy. "That poor building is going to suffer a terrible and untimely demise if I don't act now!"

Timmy Grabbed the edges of his shirt and tore the buttons apart, revealing...his chest.

"I must have forgotten my SuperGane suit at the cleaners!" Timmy muttered, as he patched the seams with some spare duct tape.

Not wanting to uncover his secret identity, Timmy quickly ran into the cleaners, picked up his suit, and changed in the nearest Porta-potty, seeing as the telephone booth was occupied.

"Lets try this again." Timmy chuckled to himself as he tore the remaining pieces of shirt off his SuperGane suit.
"Have no fear, SUUUPERGANE IS HERE!" shouted Timmy.

"Look! It's an escaped carnie!" Cried one orphan

"No it isn't either. It's an extremely late business man!" Shouted another.

"You fools! Its SuperGane!" Realized the third.

The orphans were taken by surprise but they were a clever group of kids, and quickly doused the building with the remaining gasoline and lit a match. Fortunately the boys underestimated the true power of SuperGane! Timmy ran as fast as his Etnies would carry him and quickly blew out the match before it left their hands. Grabbing the 8 year olds by their collars Timmy made sure they wouldn't try anything sneaky by tying their shoelaces together and placing them in the nearest tree.

"You thought you could mess with the architecture, but you forgot to take into account the consequences of your actions, my young grasshoppers." Timmy scolded. "Next time boys, I hope you choose a less destructive hobby, but remember! You cannot defeat the amazing wit of SUUUPERGANE!!!"

At the sound of approaching police sirens Timmy quickly scratched his trademark SG onto the tree and called a cab, making a stealthy and original superhero getaway. As the orphans choked on the exhaust from SuperGane's cab, they realized that there was more to life then burning buildings, decided to live as respectable citizens from this day forth, and pledged to donate blood to the Blue Cross the very next day.

-The End-

One banana, two banana, three banana...

2005-07-22T19:43:00.000-04:00

The longer I sit here the more I want to get up. The more I'm up the more I want to sit here. It's a vicious cycle and it needs to end.

The past couple weeks have been a blur because every day after day it's the same routine. I wake up, go for a jog, take a shower and go to work, come home and tidy up around the house, Rinse, and repeat. I hate to admit it but I can't seem to make up my mind. During the school year I can't wait for summer and the orchard to open and all the advantages of summer break, but then it comes and I want to go back to school. I miss being with my friends every day. Unfortunately, that ended for reasons other than school ending, and I don't think things will be the same even after school starts again.

The last couple days have actually been pretty busy at the restaurant/pick your own store and it has been an interesting experience with mom around again. Needless to say she is not cut out for the service industry. When I say busy, I actually mean busier than it has been, which adds up to about 10 customers or so. 10 customers is no problem for me but mom has a panic attack helping more than one costumer at a time. It can actually be quite entertaining watching her run around the kitchen snapping at everyone and shouting words of desperate frustration when she is forced to make something. Me and Jonathan try hard not to laugh but sometimes it's just not possible. Last year Jonathan had a bad habit of coming late to set up the grille every day. One day he came down about 10 minutes late to set up the grille and she got so upset that she actually shouted "I QUIT", retreated upstairs, and started vacuuming. Once we got a grip on ourselves we realized that this meant we had to run it under staffed, but it wasn't much of a problem.

Well, it's 7:30 and I haven't walked Lassie once today. I feel a little bit guilty, seeing as I was given $100 to watch her for a couple months and I walk her about once a day. Sometimes twice if she's lucky. This would be so much easier if I didn't have to take a walk just to get to her and take her for a walk. The heat hasn't helped either. I've always said I like the heat better than the cold no matter what but it's been miserable the last few days. Mom seems to be reminding me of how horrible the heat is about every 3.6 seconds. I think she is trying to imply that it's my fault since I'm the one that claims to like it. Oi ve.

Ok well I really don't have anything interesting to write about. Then again I didn't really have anything interesting to write about when I started writing either. Soo I guess I will just stop writing, and maybe go do something exciting so that I can write about it. Like trick or treating on the highway dressed as a deer! Anyway, maybe next time you can look forward to a life defining experience, but don't count on it.

Shoppers guide to the galaxy

2005-07-05T10:30:00.000-04:00

Yesterday afternoon when the rest of the country was out having barbecue's, family reunions, and fireworks shows, I was at the Whitney Field Mall shopping for capris. What better way to spend the 4th of July then in an air conditioned store buying new clothes? There isn't one! My shopping experience went something like this.

I started out at Walmart to get a few basic necessities like soap...and peanut butter cups. They have awesome store brand peanut butter cups. There was an amazingly attractive guy looking at the deodorant and he had the coolest eyes I've ever seen. Not that I was staring. I wasn't actually trying to follow him but every time i walked to another isle he just happened to be walking by too and it looked like I was stalking him. Ok, so maybe I was, but only a little and it was all good natured!

Anyway, from Walmart I headed over to the mall for some holiday weekend sales at Filenes. They had *tons* of capris there, all on sale anywhere from $12 to $17, which is a good price. I think I must have tried on about 30 pairs. My mom sat patiently in a chair by the waiting room to tell me how each pair looked. I was in heaven. Finally I narrowed it down to about 6 pairs. I only had enough money to buy two, so it was time for semi-finals. I eliminated 3, and then set aside one pair for sure. The competition now consisted of two L.e.i. beige capris. They were both a lot alike, with only minor differences in the pocket style and hem. SO naturally I had to hold finals. I tried on each pair again, modeled them for my mom, and then repeated the process. It was a touch decision but I think we made the right choice. The loser joined the mass of other rejected capris that were weighing down the return rack, and the winner came home with me. In fact I'm wearing them now, very trendy.

Little did we know that while we were in the mall our peanut butter cups were suffering an untimely demise. As we sat down in the car again I opened the bag and found them melted into a puddle. I tried to salvage some but all I ended up doing was getting it all over my hand and face and looking like a 5 year old, which can be fun, but is generally frowned upon.

After we got home we turned the TV to channel 4 and watched the Boston Pops concert at the Esplanade. I have decided that next year I am definately going to go to it. I'm planning a year in advance so there will be no confusion, and I'm really excited :D. I will take the T in the night before with however many people I can get to come along, and we will camp out by the Esplanade and get our places first thing in the morning. We're going to dress up too! I have also decided that sometime between now and then I must learn to swing dance. However, I need a partner...any volunteers?

A walk down memory lane

2005-07-02T14:27:00.000-04:00

Yesterday evening around 6:20 I came in from working outside with dad and walked up the stairs. I was sweaty, dirty, and tired. As I walked by Jonathan's room he called to me and informed me that we were going to Steve and Aubie's house for their mom's birthday - in 10 minutes.

Back in the day I used to go over to their house every Friday night for supper, and every Saturday afternoon for lunch. It was like our tradition. I loved going over there and I always had a good time. After me and Steve broke up things got kind of awkward, and I wasn't really invited over there much. Jonathan still went like usual but I ended up staying home. I hadn't been there in about two months, so this came as a little bit of a surprise, and let me tell you I did not want to go. Me and Steve haven't talked in about 3 months and I'm pretty much afraid of the guy. I felt like I should go though, because I didn't want him to think I'm angry at him, which isn't the case. It's just that he's been ignoring me a lot lately. It's like he's a different person than the one I knew, and I'm afraid of what he thinks of me.

So anyway, I ran around trying to find something to wear and clean myself up and then went out to the jeep where Jonathan was waiting for me. As we headed up George Hill Road and onto route 62 I panicked. I mean really, what am I supposed to say!? Where should I sit? How should I act?? I sat there in silence a minute and then I said a prayer. I practically begged God to help me out. I said it didn't matter what happened, how we acted around each other, or whether it was good or bad. All I wanted was to not care either way. Just pleeease let me be indifferent to the situation. Let me be over this.

I think me and Steve said about one comment directly to each other the whole night, we were in separate rooms for most of the time, and it was quite obvious that he couldn't care less.

Regardless, I had a great time. A month ago I would have thought it was a miserable night. I would have thought the whole thing went horribly, that I was never going to get over the awkwardness and it would have mattered to me. Last night I didn't care. We told memorable birthday stories in the living room, we watched father of the bride in Steve's room, and then Aubie, Jill and I retreated downstairs to Aubie's room and talked for over an hour. It's not to say I didn't have flashbacks of the times I spent there in the past. I did, but they didn't phase me. It was more of a "that was a good day, but this is now, this is what I have." We didn't leave until about 11.

It's not like I'm through with everything or that I will never care again. I probably will, and it will probably be a long time before I go over there again, but I'm just glad that I could make the best out of the time I did have. I think this time God answered my prayer just the way I wanted Him to. :D Happy Sabbath!

Ode to Blueberries, Part 2

2005-07-01T13:43:00.000-04:00

Today I thought I would post the continuation of my lovely father daughter bonding hours, which turned out to be 7 all together. Honestly it didn't turn out quite as bad as I had expected! We went out around 2:45 in miserable heat and it's safe to say I wasn't in the best of moods. I quickly solved that by swatting a deer fly that had landed on dads head. This vented out most of my frustration on him for taking me out there. Besides, you know he only did it because he knows he can pay me less than his other employees! It's injustice. Anyway, my hand eye coordination is not the sharpest and I accidentally hit his glasses causing his nose to bleed a little. I know, I know, who does that? Well...I do.

Now, if you have ever met my dad you would know that he lives for lecturing people, testing his limits, and pushing buttons. The fact that I am incredibly easily entertained is no doubt inherited from him. As we tied some of the netting to a post the song "Collide" by Howie Day came on the radio. I really like that song so I said "Hey this is a good song!" Any normal person would have just agreed or disagreed, dad of course had to take it from a totally different angle.

"Why do you like this song? What do you think he is talking about?" He asked

"Well, I guess he is talking about love. The fact that it is blind, it finds it's own way? No matter what doubts they have they always...collide." I said.

So now, seeing his opportunity to share his infinite wisdom, he asks "what is love?"

This is where my dad and I differ the most. He is a being of pure logic. He looks at every aspect of life in it's most mechanical, logical reasoning. I tend to have a more emotional way of explaining things. I believe that for some things there just isn't a logical explanation. He went into his whole spiel that went something like this: "happiness is a choice, love is not just a pitter patter in your chest every time you see someone. It is a conscious decision. It is finding someone who has the similar goals as you, who is willing to make sacrifices to make you happy, and who you can commit to make sacrifices for. You aren't always going to have the same die hard romantic emotions when you see them. You have to be willing to stay on board even when those feelings seem to be gone, because you are two people working together in life."

Next he twisted it around to break ups and informed me that after I've been through 5 or 6 it will be old habit and I will be over it in a couple days because there is always someone else who is better out there. I argued that if you can get over someone in just a few days then there must not have been anything involved. What your saying is that once I've dated enough people I will tune myself out to the emotions so that I don't set myself up for heartache anymore. If that were the case I would never find the right person and I would live my life always thinking that there is something better than what I have. So he said "of course! You're never going to find the perfect person who you will be happy with forever. Happiness is a choice, love is only a way of saying self sacrifice for someone else."

I suppose he has a point. After thinking about how my last relationship ended it made a little bit more sense than I thought. I was told "I just don't like you like that anymore". I always thought about it in the perspective of "you just can't help how you feel", but maybe it is what dad said. You have to choose to sacrifice yourself for the relationship, because there are always going to be times when the passion isn't there. You just have to stick it through those times and chose to be happy no matter what. I don't know, I suppose there is an answer somewhere between the two extremes.

Ok, now that I have turned my story into sappiness, I'm going to get back on track. After a few hours had gone by dad tried to find a new source of entertainment. We decided to tell a story, each taking a paragraph, and see what we came up with. It turned out to be a horrible tale of a man named Bob who desperately wanted to get into a prestigious culinary school but was turned down because of his allergy to nuts. He flew to Japan in search of the master of mind and body control, Chai Kwan Lee. After we had put about as much entertainment as we could think of into the story, including spies from the culinary school, stealing of Donald Trumps Toupee, and the elixer of deceit, we realized it had reached its climax and killed off Bob.

Next we tried giving each other a subject and a couple minutes to create a joke from it. That didn't go over too well. I was supposed to come up with a joke about a frog with six legs and my punch line ended up having something to do with a six pack. I would retell it but I'm too ashamed. I have to say that his was worse though.

Anyway, my point was that regardless of the situation I really didn't have a terrible time. I haven't really spent too much time with my dad this year since I've been out with my other friends and it was kind of a nice chance to spend some time with him. Not that I would want to repeat the experience, especially not the first half, but eh, it kind of made me think about things. Thinking is good :) So not only did I enhance my mind but the blueberries are all safe and sound. (We open the 10th, come buy fruit so I can go to college!)

OH! I almost forgot, rabbit rabbit! :D

Ode to Blueberries

2005-06-30T14:00:00.000-04:00

Ok, I would just like to start off by saying that I am not a morning person. Never have been, never will be. As soon as summer rolls around I'm in bed until at least 9 every day. When people try to give me the benefits of waking up early I just remind them that "the early bird gets the worm but the late rising worm lives". I am the worm.

So you can guess that I wasn't very excited about being woken up at 7:30 this morning to work out in the orchard. Every year we have to go out and cover the entire blueberry patch in netting to keep the birds out. I love blueberries every day of the year except for this one. Not to mention that my dad hires some very sketchy employees.

There's Michael, who has been working for my dad for years now. He used to come up to the sliding door, lean into the living room where I was watching TV in pajamas and say "wheere's yer Daddy?" He has an interesting accent to say the least, and I'm pretty sure he's been into drugs at more than one point in his life. Although I haven't been able to prove it just yet, I am convinced that he must be a pervert and I avoid him at all costs. I remember before we got bathrooms in the orchard he told a customer to pee under an apple tree and no one would mind. I couldn't help but laugh at the horror stricken look on my customers face.

Michaels friend Paul was also working with us today. He's a tiny little guy who always has a look of worry on his face. I think he is afraid of the world. He's also incapable of putting dowels in the netting. My mom and I had to walk behind him and redo all of his work.

At 12 my dad decided to let them go home and make me his special helper for the rest of the day. It's 1:43 now. As soon as he finishes lunch I'm off to the great outdoors for about 5 more hours of quality bonding time with my dad. I don't think it's a wise idea to bond with anyone outside while working in 80 degree weather and extreme humidity. It's bound to fail. That's just my thoughts on the matter. I think in some ways he likes it to fail. He wants to see how I will react, how anyone would react to the situations he puts them in. The world is an experiment to him. Part of me believes that he knows just what to say and when to say it to make me the most frustrated, and he enjoys seeing that. Life just wouldn't be very interesting if everything was perfect all the time would it? Or maybe this is his elaborate plan to teach me to make the best out of every situation. I'm 17 dad, I think it's time for a plan B if you've got one because this doesn't seem to make matters any better.

Ok well I guess it's about that time.

Ta ta for now.