Country Living

Country living has increased my hermit tendencies to unprecedented heights. Yesterday when someone rang my doorbell, panic led me to belly crawl my way from my office chair to the bathroom, where I hid out for 15 minutes hoping the unknown ringer would leave. This afternoon, I was planning my dinner menu when I realized the tortilla stash had never been replenished (yes, I have finally mastered the cheese quesadilla). My options were to get in my car, open the garage door and go to the store… Or, open my pantry closet and see if I had ingredients that would combine sufficiently into a tortilla. Can you believe that I chose the cooking option????

I found a recipe where I had at least 3 of the 5 ingredients, and since I’m pretty sure that white substance in the unmarked container is flour, I probably actually have 4 out of the 5! I was missing lard, but seriously, who are the people that keep lard in their pantries? Right at the top, the recipe stated, “Do not substitute vegetable oil or shortening for the lard.” Since I was taking a big enough risk with what I really hope is flour, I decided to listen to recipe instructions (although I secretly thought either oil or shortening would have been a good idea). The real reason I listened to the advice was that I had neither one of the banned substitutes, so butter it was.

I began mixing the ingredients together, but as the directions said to stop when the concoction resembled cornmeal, and not knowing what cornmeal looks like, I stopped when I got tired of mixing. By this time it was a substance able to be rolled with a rolling pin, so I couldn’t have been too far off. I rolled, cooked, flipped, and forgot which ones I flipped, so flipped some more. The result???

They are edible as evidenced by my testing them with honey, maple syrup, cinnamon and sugar, and butter. However, I think they might shoot splinters at anyone attempting to roll up something in them. Soft shells are over-rated right? If anyone runs into that other Kuna resident before he gets home, you might want to warn him that the cracker-like items are actually tortillas. And, although comments on the tornado that swept through our kitchen should be kept to a minimum, cleaning help should not!

Kuna Newsbit

I debated on whether to answer the doorbell – I hadn’t showered and my hair was sticking up in Einstein fashion (a style that is much easier to pull off if you have mind-blowing breakthroughs in understanding the universe). Strangely I decided to open the door and had a nice talk with the mail lady, who much prefers pre-shower than mid-shower customers.

It wasn’t that I was suprized to find that I had adoring fans, but the location of Shoreline as their base was a bit mysterious. I didn’t hear any ticking, so once again against my better judgment (I must have really needed coffee) I sliced open the packaging. I won’t tell you the exact time these events transpired lest you be tempted to judge me for my non-showered state, however, I am glad to say that most of my neighbors were at work and so were spared the eerie groan/howl that escaped from our usually quiet house on Jump Rope Place.



It was indeed the Mexican Wedding Bowl!!!!!!! I distinctly have a fuzzy memory of someone telling me this item was gone forever, shattered beyond recovery. There were a few pieces cracked and missing, but this bowl is fully able to fulfill its primary purpose…

And yes, that means there is an open invitation for my adoring fans. We’ll have a soup dinner served in a "decorative" bowl with ceramic floaties (kind of like the opposite of ice cubes to keep the soup hot). Who could resist a nicely flavored stew specially spiced with the leeching of poisonous paint? Finally, no longer is my cooking to be blamed for inedible dinners… now that is a relief to this newlywed!

Happy New Year!!!!!!!

Phin's observation directed toward me: "I've never seen anything energize you more than procrastinating!"

Seems appropriate for a New Year's Day saying...

Official Story - The Ring Arrives

It became clear in the weeks following our foray into designing jewelry that we were indeed amateurs. Sophie was very patient with us as we revised and tweaked the renderings. It was not easy to find words that would communicate our vision into an art form that was both meaningful and beautiful. After much back and forth, a wax model was created and I was called in to give one final inspection before the casting in metal could commence.

The ring structure was exquisite. We had wanted a three cord strand to represent the marriage equation: Man + Woman intertwined and connected by God = Husband and Wife. (Think chemistry rather than calculus.) Sophie had sorted through tons of tiny rubies to find the reddest ones to embed in the top of the ring. The stones sparkled and greeted me with enthusiasm for their share in this new adventure. I knew their tiny glittering was the perfect choice to remind me to be a good wife, one who would show God’s love to Phin. It seemed serendipitous that the ruby is the birth stone for both Phin and me. (Although I am now convinced that any type of precious or semi-precious stone will represent the month you were born, depending on the chart referenced.)

I was delighted with the little green wax model and did not want to take it off my finger. The store was closing, so with resolute fingers I slid the wax from my hand. Apparently my grip was heavy handed and the wax model snapped into two pieces. Sophie assured me that this would not impede the casting process and once made from metal, the ring would be structurally sound. The metal of choice was palladium, and I am now wondering how much of Phin’s hereto unknown fascination with Iron Man influenced this decision!

One week later, Phin called to let me know that my ring was ready and needed to be picked up by me. It felt strange to be the first to see it and take it home. The ring was perfect – so unassuming but delicate and beautiful. The frustration of having it in my possession but not being able to wear it was demonstrating my patience. For the first time, I felt an urgency and huge desire to be engaged. Perhaps some may wonder if at night when the shades were closed and doors locked, I took the ring from its small cushioned case and practiced wearing it. Well, that I will never tell, but I had another question that I wanted to answer, and it was with eager anticipation that I awaited for Phin’s arrival that upcoming weekend!

Official Story – The Non-Engagement

My heart had completely changed in the months of the dating contract. I had gone from praying that Phin and I would not end up together to feeling fully confident that it would be the best thing in my life if we did. Even knowing this, the thought of facing that yes or no moment was still frightening. Phin promised me that he would not ask until I was ready.

It began to get easier to talk about future plans and dream together about our future life. Every once in a while I could even talk about how I envisioned a wedding, but often these discussions would end with Phin reassuring me that there was no hurry.

One Saturday over a late breakfast, Phin casually asked, “Would you want to design a ring together?” Who could pass up an invitation like this? I love designing, and although my jewelry design experience had been limited to safety pin bracelets, a ring sounded like an exciting fun challenge. That afternoon we decided to check out a jewelry boutique that specializes in facilitating the design process. We wanted to get an idea of how complicated it would be to buy a ring designed by us.

The place was intimidating with small work spaces set up, but once I saw the latte machine and comfy couches, I was ready to put on my creative hat. We looked at other designs, and an image of what I wanted formed in my head. Phin was amazing at being able to capture that idea and draw it on paper. Before long we had several sketches of an idea for a ring that was full of personal meaning for us. I was excited to see what the next step of the process would be.

Sophie, a design consultant, was called over to discuss the practicalities. She offered some suggestions and with modifications we soon had a concept that was ready to be modeled. Before she could send it over, however, she needed a deposit on the ring. I was so caught up in the creative excitement that when Phin asked if we were ready, I eagerly assented.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” Sophie said as she took Phin’s credit card.

“Oh, we aren’t engaged!” I declared emphatically, the significance of the last two hours slowly dawning on me. Sophie tried to dismiss the awkward moment with a bright smile as she walked away. I looked at Phin wondering how he was taking my declaration.

He had an understanding smile on his face and leaned over. “You do know this means that we are getting married, right?” he quietly asked with very calm patience. I nodded and it didn’t feel scary at all. From that moment we were officially getting married, although not yet engaged.

Official Story - The Option to Renew!

The care free fun of dating under the rules of the contract lasted approximately one month. Although in the dating world six months can be a long time and seemed appropriate when we began, it became clear that the option to renew signified a much deeper commitment (perhaps even talk of the “M” word). I realized that I only had five months to devise and implement an evaluation (refusing to call it a test) to determine if I wanted to share my life with anyone in general, and specifically with Phin.

About this time Phin had a similar revelation and came up with a very logical approach for his assessment. He made a list of topics that in his mind needed to be discussed and resolved prior to any further commitment on his part. (Apparently my reluctance to answer any question head-on caused some serious unease.) He let me know what these topics were and I was not worried about being compatible in the areas of his concern.

My criterion was much more difficult to ascertain. I felt like I had a solid understanding of Phin’s character, but was unsure of how our personalities would interact in the long-term. His natural reactions in various circumstances needed to be analyzed, and as I did not want observation to alter behavior, I kept quiet on the issues/personality traits that were important to me.

Not surprisingly, the not knowing which events I would find significant proved to have an un-balancing effect on Phin. In light of this, it was perhaps unfortunate that canoeing was the first adventure where I consciously assessed how we functioned as a couple. It did not bode well that by the time we hauled the canoe out from the water, I was convinced that next time we would paddle around in separate kayaks.

Although nowhere close to life in the ordinary, an international trip seemed like a fun way to discover if our differing quirks could find a harmonious rhythm. Being constantly together for three weeks, meeting my family, and dealing with the unexpected in travel gave us plenty of opportunities to enjoy the companionship while grappling with the uniqueness of one another.

In the end, I found it did not matter if there were more checks in the pro column of my mental compatibility chart. Phin had shown me a heart that was willing to work towards being compatible, which is much more reassuring. Although any thought of a proposal with “death do us part” consequences was still mildly terrifying, I did come back from Europe confident that I wanted to renew the contract indefinitely.

Official Story - The Contract

The next time I saw Phin we were both at a conference north of the border in the wild town of Vancouver. I was working on an essay about roundabout design and agreed to meet Phin for coffee to take advantage of his proof reading and editing skills. It was a night of great conversation in which we mostly avoided the serious talks about us. The late hour and caffeine finally kicked in and contributed to a tongue slip in which I admitted that I secretly thought dating him would be tons of fun.

The next day we took a walk around the city where the sidewalks were shoulder to shoulder with people. It was easy to tell what line of discussion was percolating in Phin’s head, but voicing any questions in the crowds was difficult. For my part, I thought it was clear that the topic was off limits, and to avoid answering the inquiring look coming from Phin, I glanced at the guy walking next to me. To my surprise my gaze locked on that of a giant lizard peering around a fellow pedestrian’s neck. I was just not expecting a lizard to be giving me such a soul searching look, and my shock took the shape of a jump to the side. There was no room for such a jump on the crowded streets, and I landed in Phin’s arms.

It seemed like people on the streets continued walking around us without missing a beat, while Phin and I were suddenly stopped by my surprise tackle. His laughing eyes were much kinder than that of the lizard, and he had to ask, “Will you go out with me?”

“I can’t,” I sadly replied, and he slowly put me down. It was clear that he didn’t understand and I tried to explain, “Dating you would be great, but I’m not ready for another break-up, and I’m not convinced that we would be good together for life.”

“It sounds like what you want is a dating contract that will automatically end in 6 months,” he replied wryly.

“That’s exactly what I want,” I exclaimed excitedly. Then after looking at him, I realized, “Oh, you were only kidding?”

“Well,” he replied slowly, “if you would consider dating me and we have the option to renew after 6 months, I would be willing to discuss a contract.” Just then we happened upon our colleagues and had to say our group goodbyes. Phin gave me a professional handshake and with a straight face promised to keep in touch. A few days later, over a 9 hour phone call, we hashed out the fine print of our contract – We were now officially dating until the end of February with an option to renew.

The Official Story - The Butterflies

For me the dating process has never been much fun. Of course there are moments/days and even weeks of joy, but with a hard squint one can always glimpse the circling shark fin indicating a future heartbreak for someone. At the end of the “Craters of the Moon” weekend, I left Phin with a bit of unease. It really seemed like he was in collusion with Someone to pull off the perfect trip - complete with sunsets, a full moon, adventurous exploration and even waterfalls rivaling Niagara to lure my cynical self into unclear waters.

I had always felt perfectly comfortable being with Phin. In fact, in my opinion, we were a little too comfortable with each other since there was no stomach knotting excitement in our interaction. As we sat on the craggy rock watching the sun disappear behind the purple streaked mountain, I was surprised to discover a fluttery excitement. It was so great to share this beautiful moment with someone who had turned my hazy ideas into an actual adventure, creating an exceptional day. The flutters took the shape of butterflies, and one bold creature had the audacity to ask, “Could this be the guy who would help turn thoughts for an extraordinary life into realistic daily living?”

I quickly smothered this butterfly with explanations of nature contriving a romance. The whole episode would be classified as an isolated dip into dating. However, I was soon to learn that once the butterflies are let loose, it is difficult to cram them back into their cocoon – especially ones this audacious.

We Interrupt this Program...

I have recently been swamped by "to do" lists (one of which contains -update the blog), and I also got ambushed by a cold. When I came to work today this cheerful creature was giving me a motivational cheer! "Ready... OK!"



Don't worry - I plan to get back to the series soon - at this rate there may be a wedding before the full story of "HOW" is truly answered! Don't be surprized if the story is fully revealed at our 25th wedding anniversary party!

The Official Story - Part 1

Introduction

It did not take a psychiatrist to diagnose my commitment phobic condition; I was able to do this part on my own. The cause and cure were a different matter, however, and I resolved to get some expert advice. After several false starts I finally managed to make an appointment with a counselor and even went so far as to attend one of the sessions we arranged. I had a vague idea that counseling would be fun. After explaining my situation, the counselor would expound on my thought processes giving good reasons for my behavioral patterns. I would leave with a new understanding of the way my mind worked and a game plan to become “normal”.

This was a couple of years ago, and I still remember it as being one of the most painful hours of my life. I had not realized that I would be expected to talk about myself the entire time and answer questions I would rather not even think about, let alone discuss out loud. I was not the only one having a difficult time - about 45 minutes into it, the counselor looked at her watch and with beads of sweat forming on her brow announced that this session was worse than pulling teeth. Perhaps if I had continued week after week, I would have gained some incredible insight. Instead I decided my commitment troubles were only mildly inconvenient and learned that therapy was not for me. I decided that if I was to ever share my life with someone, he would have to be amazing and convince me to commit without much help or encouragement from my side. Secretly I prepared to live a life complete within myself.

Phin and I had known each other for a while, but characteristically I had managed to keep him at a “friends” arm length away. He lived in Idaho and to make conversation I once mentioned that visiting “Craters of the Moon” was on my life to-do list. He immediately invited me on a camping trip, and after agreeing but never committing for three summer’s in a row, I found myself in a position of no excuse. It was a weekend where my job took me to Boise and so one Friday afternoon in July, we set off in his monster huge truck for adventures in the desert. I was slightly concerned about the camping aspect of the trip never dreaming that the moon landscape would be the launch pad for our colliding lives.




Author's Note: Originally this was supposed to be a one sentence introduction, but the story got away from me. I'm afraid the series may be longer than I had anticipated!

The Exciting News!

Phin (almost his real name) and I are getting married (and yes – to each other)!!!!! Thankfully, the narrative did not follow my three day plan which some of you might remember as going something like this…

1. Meet the guy the day before my 35th birthday
2. Get engaged on my birthday
3. Get married at 35 and a day

No wonder I was always a little scared that I would accidentally get engaged and married and spend the rest of my life wondering what happened. Eventually I would be forced to escape my messy life by disappearing into the wilds of the south pacific islands.

The real story is one that clearly shows God’s love and grace. I am not finding myself “accidentally” engaged, which in itself is a huge relief. In the next few weeks, I will chronicle an answer to the question, “How did this incredible blessing happen?” Details will be provided in a series of mostly non-fictional anecdotes, including the events of the actual engagement (as soon as Phin and I get our stories straight)… so stay tuned!!!

Recap of a European Excursion

First stop with sister, brother-in-law, and dad (not pictured): Rome

A trip with my dad to see Martin Luther's Hideout: Wartburg Castle

A fellow sightseer at a German castle: Hohenschwangau

Two of us in a magical place: Neuschwanstein

Freezing our feathers off in the City of Lights: Paris

January Giraffes in Germany!!

Actually the January Giraffes were not able to make it to Germany, but I did!! (And the calendar page was completed before I left - Good thing these lovely Giraffes have some night owl tendencies!!)

Look Who's Coming to Dinner

A dinner theme I could get excited about: Crock Pot Dining. There was very little cooking involved in my pot of choice, but it was heavy on the croc! The easiest way to tell the difference between a crocodile and an alligator is not the shape of their noses, but a good look at their salad composition. An alligator salad will be made with fresh fruits, while the crocodile salad leans heavily on vegetables. (A fun fact you can now share at your crocktail parties!)



This croc was a perfect gentleman and stood in nicely for my out of town beau. The picture, of course, does not do him justice; he needed the red-eye reduction setting on my camera.

Sculpture Park

“What do you think the title of this piece is?” I asked Phin. We were staring at what I considered to be giant iron canoes – the first stop on our sculpture park tour. I love this park and was eager to share the experience with this particular guy. He enthusiastically joined in the game with a guess of “Waves”. We were both a little right according to the description; “...suggest tidal waves or profiles of battleships.” Phin took exception to my calling canoes battleships, but admitted arrows may have once been sprung from a paddled canoe. That was enough for me and although appreciating art is not a competition, I secretly gave us each 1 point.

We continued down the gravel path, with satisfying crunches creating musical accompaniment. At each piece we would imagine a title and then compare with the label given by the artists. Some of the monikers were more engineered terms than artistic names such as Two Plane Vertical Horizontal Variation III. I’m sure this is why I quickly recognized the wisdom of enjoying art without keeping score: Phin, an engineer to the core, was a much better guesser than I. The secret challenge was dropped, but perhaps a trifle too soon.

“Log Jam,” I declared thinking the tripod holding three enormous dangling tree trunks was something out of a Paul Bunyon story.

“Security System,” countered Phin. I was not following that thought process and went to read the plaque.


“It’s called Bunyon’s Chess,” I announced excitedly, since I really had been thinking of Paul Bunyon. I glanced at Phin to see how he was reacting to this title, and saw him starring quizzically at the security light, adjacent to the structure. He turned to see what I was laughing at, and that is when the true sculpture, Bunyon’s Chess, caught his eye. He still maintains that “Security Device” was one of his favorite pieces of art in the park.

Our walk led us to a path of unbridled whimsy; Alexander Calder would have approved. We meandered through the grove looking for the hanging hammocks, but only spied two of the supposed three. We got lost in the Stinger, which reminded us both of the Gravitron from our childhood fair days. It did not take us for a spin with centripetal forces, but lured us in by being “deceptively sweet but slyly intoxicating.” The cartoon firecracker set loose on the hill by Wile E. Coyote, surprized me once again by turning out to be Typewriter Eraser, Scale X.
We took a turn at being part of the surroundings when we sat statuesque on what I believe were Eye Benches I, but could have been Eye Benches II or even Eye Benches III.

We ended at my favorite sculpture, and the only one I can ever remember the title of since it is spelled out in plain English, Love & Loss. We arrived on the side of “Loss”. I stood there contemplating how loss is often a part of love. “Is it worth it?” I thought to myself. I was still pondering when Phin took my hand. We walked down the sidewalk steps of the letter “s”, and as we turned, the perspective of the sculpture changed from “Loss” to “Love”. It is too soon to tell if this change is reflected in my own life, but I do have to say- the potential is exciting.

A Poem from the Past

So many twisted feelings, thoughts and perceptions,
Snapped and unraveled to send me reeling.
The mirages of life - denial and depression,
Come to entice with offers of impractical romanticism.
I gratefully accept and tie some more knots,
Before discovering the spiraling has not stopped.

I want to find truth, but not if it means
Landing on that bottom rock of reality.
Now panic sets in as my desires are divided,
Am I searching for true life or only its allusions?
Thoughts of the nebulous haze filled with intangible meaning
Make me insane and I must find something solid.

Stretched out on that rock that was so dreaded and feared
I find peace and true meaning, but not without tears.
Emotions experienced in their purist essence
Are powerful in the extreme and bring painful healing.
Bruised to the core and with no strength left,
I am currently on this Foundation, at rest.

Life as a Contradiction!

A hypochondriac who hates doctors…

A hermit who does not like to be alone…

A person who can’t sleep but can’t wake up…

A habitual time waster, but can’t patiently take 5 minutes to brush the teeth – must multi-task…

A person who gets cheered up by grumpy people (even when that grumpy person is herself)...

A person who loves to be active (tennis, skiing, hiking, etc), but hates to exercize...

A person who loves relationships, but tends to sabotage them...

A person who loves life, but finds it frustratingly difficult...

Yay!!! Yay!!! Yay!!!

Finally - I got the letter we have all been waiting for...

Night Time Lullaby

I am lying in bed at 11:40pm thinking I will get an early start on sleep. Ha!! The polka music outside my window is enough to keep anyone awake. Can I really be hearing polka music? Something does not seem right. Germany is now an ocean away, but I must be dreaming that I’m back at the Hofbrauhaus in Munich. Dreams, especially ones this real, usually indicate a sleep state has been reached – yay! I cautiously open one eye to check my surroundings; small desk, Roman Holiday poster, round bed, and… polka music. No I am not sleeping, but I can’t muster up any disappointment. After all, polka music is always festive and makes one smile even if accompanied by rolling eyes and shaking heads.

Philosophy with a Hermit Crab

Despite his name, Ewan the hermit crab was usually a cheerful sort. He lived close enough to other crabs so that a chat over coffee was not an irregular occurrence, but far enough away to avoid urban claustrophobia. I would sometimes meet him on the beach for a light dinner. He would munch on his tiny seaweed morsel, and I would eat on my salad until my mouth was tired of chewing.

After one such dinner, we sat watching the tide come in. There was never much talking between the two of us, but we enjoyed a comradely time of thinking. I began skipping rocks, but somehow was irritated as the rocks skimmed the water leaving small splashes and ripples of disturbance. These ripples were disturbing the calm glassy water, it was true, but doing it in such a way as to create intricate and symmetrical designs that could seemingly go on forever. I threw in a fat round rock, obviously not the skipping kind, but it made the most satisfactory plunk; causing a commotion in the water that was felt all the way to the sandy bottom. The splash was big and irregular and even came with the sound of “kerplunk” that had no illusions of elegance and was gone in a matter of seconds.

On this particular night, my mind was restless. I was tired of thinking and not coming up with answers, or even worse, just finding new questions. I looked at Ewan who was sitting next to the driftwood, calmly collecting rocks. I knew he had answers, and so I risked a question. “What do you think about life in general?” I asked knowing that this was no skipping stone, but that Ewan was wise enough to get a few hops out of it if he wanted.

“Well, some parts of life are good,” he slowly replied, “and other parts of life are bad.” It was like he deliberately threw a big fat boulder into my mind. The “kerplunk” effectively stopped all further line of questioning. All the subjects he could have touched on with such a wide open question were swallowed up in the splash. We packed up to go and had a lively debate on the merits of claws verses fingers. The questions of life will come up in my mind again, but sometimes it is a relief to enjoy the sand, sun, water and other aspects of life without a full dissection. Incidentally, Ewan is a little sad that he cannot eat olives off the end of his claws as we can with our fingers.

Waiting...

I hated it when she was late. There I was; waiting… waiting… Preparing the lecture I was going to give her when she deigned to show up helped pass the time. It was not fair to be so late; we had plans and a time honored schedule of traditions! Not a minute would be wasted. Yet here I was alternating between the following:

Anger – She should stick to the schedule. It was too late for someone else to fill in! If you were expected on a certain date, you should be there – or at least send the excuses – preferably with a very large bribe attached to it like tickets to Brazil.
Worry – The lateness of her arrival might have some greater cosmic meaning such as the world is off kilter and headed for a disaster beyond our imagination (not just a fallen chandelier, but a crashing of all the stars in our galaxy).
Guilt – It’s my fault that she is late. If only I drove less and rode my bike more, she would feel more comfortable and punctual.
Depression – Was she going to cancel and not come at all? This thought kept me on my couch under a blanket and cuddled up to a hot water bottle for days.

I had resigned myself to life without her when I was woken by dance steps across my face. Even after such a prolonged absence, I knew immediately that it was her tickling my face. Once again I was charmed and in love- all the words of censor, the doubt, and the impatience were gone. I threw open the windows to let her come streaming in. Summer was here and even more beautiful than I remembered her!!!!

A Slow Run

It was odd to find herself in this situation; wearing a crazy lime green skirt over black leggings with sports socks and tennis shoes. Elle was wearing this outlandish costume five blocks from her house, and what was worse… her spastic gestures looked like she was running. Elle hated to run! It was not a passive dislike, but rather a fierce opposition. Sometimes after just contemplating a run, a 20 minute aerobic work-out would have been achieved. She must have used some huge trickery to get herself in this predicament. Elle was huffing and puffing, but the only course was to continue with her run because the quicker she took this skirt inside, the better!!!

Elle kept her eyes on the sidewalk cracks, not wanting to meet anyone. She had made it to the corner, when she saw a man walking his dog across the street. The man and his dog were crossing over to her side, but Elle continued her focus on getting home. “One more step,” she kept chanting to herself, and knew that even though her legs felt like lumbering elephants, they were making progress. Perhaps it was time to begin some type of running regiment – there had been a lot of chocolate consumption lately. It was all coming back to her now, the beginning of what had prompted this exercize adventure.

She heard the dog jingle behind her like a bicycle bell wanting to pass. Elle obligingly moved over to the side, but instead of a passing flurry, the dog just walked around her. The guy followed calmly, also in a walk, and gave Elle a long glance probably wondering who had put her running in slow motion. It was embarrassing for everyone involved. There she was, running her heart out, being out-strolled by a dog walker. Even the dog looked awkward and gave a few prancing steps as if to say, “Don’t worry, we aren’t really walking that slowly, in fact some people might consider this a jog.” It would have been more encouraging if he had not seemed to add as an afterthought, “Of course, those people are statues and such.”

Elle's one day running career was over! The running skirt has been returned to Goodwill, and a pact has been made with her shoes... "For Tennis Only!"

Umbrella Story (Part 1)

The umbrella was Sami’s favorite accessory; she loved taking it for a walk. Sometimes when rain was scarce, the umbrella would look wistfully outside for any sign of a mist. It never complained, however, as it waited patiently in its stand by the door. Sami once got tired of waiting for a downpour and so took the umbrella on a stroll, parasol-style; it was not the same.

As she drove home from work there was just the hint of raindrop splatter on her windshield. Sami dashed inside and stayed only long enough to grab her umbrella for a nice outing. The hint of a shower and turned into a downpour. She walked along the sidewalk to the beat of the falling raindrops. Tonight she was aware of being ensconced in a grey, grim world where it was ok to be sad because the universe was broken. Before the sad volcano deep inside her had time to fully erupt, she caught a glimpse of her yellow umbrella in a puddle reflection. She followed the trail of this dash of color in an otherwise dismal street from puddle to puddle, and before long there was a bounce in its progress matching the spring in her step.

She returned home calmed and refreshed. That was the beauty of her umbrella friend – it took her on walks with permission to be sad but never allowing her to fall victim to complete melancholy. It gave her life a cheerful color of hope.

Postcard Writing

Hey You,

Guten Tag aus Deutschland!!! I am having crazy adventures but so far have managed to find the way back to where I am staying each night! (This is not always easy but has nothing to do with the very generous beer steins that Germany is known for.) The best part of Germany is that it changes me into a morning person. I love being wide awake in the single digits! I would add cheerful to this morning persona, but with the beautiful weather, amazing chocolate, and picturesque countryside, grumpy people are hard to find (grumpy people being the fail proof way of making me chuckle). This all changed when I accidentally led my traveling pal on an unexpected 12 kilometer hike that involved an active guard dog and a swarm of hornets. The cantankerous mood would have done much to make me completely cheerful, but I was a little too tired to enjoy it completely.

I hope you are having fun at home (although not too much fun without me!!!!)
See you soon!!!

A Great Idea??

She always woke up with a feeling of surprize. Sleeping was something she did not do well, and it was always startling (in a good way) to discover that it had been accomplished at all. She turned her head to check the time, but her eyes were confronted by a light bulb lying innocently beside her head. “Oh, I must have had a good idea last night,” she thought to herself and saw that it was 8:45am.

She tried to remember what her good idea was – there was something about creating a tooth cleaning midnight snack. It was never convenient to re-brush the teeth after giving into the milk and cookie craving that was supposed to lure one to sleep. Besides, she was running low on toothpaste and could not afford to brush twice before bed. Surely there should be some sort of tasty morsel that left a tooth cleaning solvent to work its magic for morning fresh breath.

It was an idea alright, but probably not light bulb inspiring. A spark flashed in her brain, “Wait a second – aren’t light bulbs the products of good ideas only in cartoons? In real life, one is not expected to share a pillow with them. Where did it come from???” She carefully picked up the glass bulb and shook it to see if it was still good. The shaking sound of silence indicated it would still illuminate a room. She walked to the bedroom lamp and saw its bulb had gone missing. “At least we know where it came from,” she thought to herself as she screwed it back in to place and flipped the switch. Light filled the room, but she was left in a state of foggy confusion. She had to hope that her next non-supervised nighttime activity would lead to the teddy bear collection, far away from anything electric or breakable.

A lovely sadness

Tonight I miss you with huge waves of loss. As I was drifting off to sleep I was thinking happily of kangaroos. I have always loved kangaroos and of course their pockets. Kangaroo associations began coming fast and furious. You had a tiny perfume bottle kept in the pouch of a kangaroo. You had a blue kangaroo with button joints so the legs could move, and she had a baby roo. You had purple and pink kangaroo shoes where I could hide things for you to find in the pouch. Your whole room came into focus with all your shoes doing a small tap dance, led of course by the kangaroo ones. In the back row were your turquoise suede pumps. I could see your beautiful dressed up feet dancing away in the pumps and I realized that I have never yet mastered the art of walking in any kind of heel. Was this something you were supposed to teach me?

Becoming wide awake, all sorts of other questions that I have wanted to ask you came to mind. I’m sad that you only knew me as a young person, always going through some kind of childhood phase. I’m still going through phases, but their effects may be longer lasting. I’m sad I have to create a vision of you as a woman from my memories when my perspective was skewed by viewing you only as a mom figure. I’m sad that I can’t have you over for a cup of tea and conversation. I’m sad that we can’t start our own book club together. I’m sad that you will never drive on a road that I have designed, or edit a book of short stories I may one day write. Tonight, once again, the loss of you created a painful ache in my lungs – and I treasured it because it showed me how lucky I was to have a mother I so hugely loved!

Thoughts on writing and not writing...

I’d like to write tonight, but I have nothing to say. Where did all the voices go?

I love writing when it comes bubbling out of my fingers… I hate writing when it comes painstakingly out of my head.

I have all the bad habits of a mad genius writer without any of the amazing literary outputs!

I want to write but I cannot. Where are the magical words – the ones that really belong together all bundled up in a sentence? Did the butterflies take them away? I always suspect bold, beautiful creatures that flutter.

Why are giraffes so fun? What if I put some of my favorite things into one sentence? A giraffe wearing yellow galoshes and carrying an umbrella was hopping from lily pad to lily pad, juggling the letters of the alphabet.

A Time For Tulips

A Glimmer of Fun

The Training

I finally got results back from my test (the one that started me on this blogging adventure). The score was as predicted – Test 1; Me 1. If this was a game of soccer all would be fine. We would shake hands and say, “Good game,” while each secretly feeling like we were the ones who had really won. But as much as we feel like we are just running around chasing an elusive ball that always seems to be going in the direction we are not, life is somewhat different than a soccer game. In April, we will meet for Round 2; one test, one point available, and no chance for a tie.

Valentine's Day Cards

I was not planning on making Valentine’s Day cards this year. It’s not that I’m anti Valentine’s Day (although I do admit to not being the biggest fan), but my obstinate nature usually refuses to have a good idea for the making of this particular card. It’s like when someone says, “You’re clever – how about coming up with a good tag-line for such and such…” My mind goes completely blank and I can barely form grammatically correct sentences let alone any associated with wit. There are so many cute things out there for Valentine’s Day, not to mention a barrage of commercial cards that my card making abilities hibernate until St. Patrick’s Day which is a lot less pressure packed (and who isn’t fond of getting pinched by a crab).

All week everyone around me began exuberating Valentine spirit; talking of cards, creating very cute cards, having valentine shaped waffles for breakfast, going to the paper store, etc. It was after spending an afternoon punching out small hearts with a friend’s heart punch that I reluctantly decided to make a card.* It was not amazing, and I once again was ready to abandon the holiday. I went to sleep that night thinking of all the great people in my life who really do deserve a Valentine’s Day card from me and of the paper hearts. The paper hearts, so many punches so far without use, but waiting… ready for something. They could be used for ladybugs (too cliché), spots on a giraffe (too obsessed with giraffes), or heart flowers (already tried and looking mushy). Around 1:35am inspiration struck.

The hearts had aligned themselves into caterpillar conga lines. They were a festive bunch and every so often, one of the caterpillars would be whipped out of formation, fly through the air and become a heart-shaped butterfly. It had all the makings of a great card. Outside with the caterpillar – “All this caterwauling to say…” Inside with butterfly – “You’re sort of ok”. To those who might be offended with the “sort of” I would cross that out and put “more than”. I fell asleep secure in the center of the celebrating caterpillar conga line.

I’m always a little suspicious of my “brilliant” middle of the night ideas, but the next morning the plan still contained possibilities. The first snag was hit when I looked up caterwauling in the dictionary to ensure the spelling. The fun word that vaguely meant loud yelling creating general rumpus and ruckus had a much more defined definition for a sound that should never be associated with a Valentine’s Day card and had much more to do with cats than caterpillars. (There were several howls let loose in the sewing stage of these cards, but these never reached a true caterwaul – at least I hope. I was using my couch as a pin-cushion, and sat down or got poked with the needle more than once.) In the end, I decided to let the caterpillars and butterflies speak for themselves in a much more individualized greeting.

Sadly, you should not expect one of these creatures to appear in a mailbox near you any time soon. I’m afraid they may have to be used for next year. Of course next year all the cute caterpillars will have all hatched into butterflies, but this just makes for easier delivery – right?” In the meantime, Happy Valentine’s Day!!


*I know this seems like a strange way to spend an afternoon, when I had no intention of creating cards requiring small heart punches, but I had my reasons.

Catching Some ZZZZ's

The alphabet and I had become good friends and we would play all sorts of games together. It delighted in tricking me with tangling puzzles. The relationships between the letters fascinated me. Some of them got along so well with each other and were constant companions in almost every game, while others were shy and seldom seen. Hours were spent trying to tease “q” to go out without his best friend, “u”. It was only when I was much older that I finally succeeded in this endeavor with the promised treat of a Qatari camel race. There were hopes that I might become a great speller until January 25th of my first grade year.

The snow was falling softly outside and my seat was near the window. I was trying my best to ignore the fluffy white man as he floated down from the sky unassembled. He was begging me to bring out his carrot nose and put him together. Suddenly, my attention was captured by the most intriguing character I had ever seen, the letter “z”! It was love at first sight. From then on my spelling was shot as I attempted to place “z” in every word that I thought fitting. I was dazzled by this zany zipper az it zigged and zagged acrozz my pagez, compozing words that were sure to sizzle. I thought it especially fitting to provide the unexpected treat of “z” in a word that meant just that - surprize! Since there were no spelling bee contests in my immediate future, I turned to a more useful application for my letter friends - codes and ciphers.

P.S. This is an excerpt from hopefully a much larger story about a girl named Telsah. I recently rescued it off of my old computer and thought it would be fun to share. You can see I plagarized one of the sentences from this story and used it to create a whole different tale in "Happy Birthday". No need to call the literary cops, however, as I think it is a legal to copy from one's self. Besides, those literary cops will be be much too busy policing my sentences from unwanted "z's" and my newfound love of the ";". Where does one use a ";"? I don't know, but it does look good in a sentence!!!!

A trip to the Grocery Store

The Christmas Cooking Disaster of 2009 combined with other major kitchen mishaps in the last few months had convinced me to give up cooking entirely as a New Year’s resolution. The plan was to focus my energy on other creative, less hazardous projects. This was a good plan in theory, but around the third week in January I got hungry. I had Mother Hubbard Cupboards and my candy stash drawer was down to a few sad Hersey kisses that had long ago lost their ability to pucker. I scrounged up my shopping bag and headed to the local QFC.

Although I had only been avoiding the grocery store for about a month, as I wandered up and down the aisles it felt like it had been years. The food looked amazing. There were samples and sales and soon I had to exchange my basket for a cart. I modified my resolution to oven related cookery and concentrated on foods that could be heated on the stove top or eaten right out of the bag. When my shopping cart was full, for the most part with healthy snacks, I headed to the check-out line. It was with anticipation for a healthy delicious dinner that I watched the checker scan each item.

As I hauled the groceries into my apartment, I could hear the squeak of a pre-packaged plastic bag indicating that once again my kitchen contained fun foods. Twenty minutes earlier, I had argued with myself about buying potato chips (it is not pleasant to find that you have no one to blame but yourself for an empty bag of potato chips even if they are all-natural). However, I suspected from the squeak that one bag had indeed sneaked into my shopping cart. I was a little relieved and relishing the idea of opening up the bag of chips to snack on while I cooked my feta cheese omelet and re-stocked the barren cupboards.

The eggs were sizzling nicely on the stove and I started rummaging through the bags to find the salt and vinegar potato chips. I had put away the majority of items when I finally ran across the air filled plastic bag that held the promise of a challenge to eat just one, once it was opened. I dug it out eagerly – imagine my disappointment when instead of a bag of Kettles Sea Salt and Vinegar, it was a bag of pre-washed spinach!!!! Looking back, I know that I didn’t put any in my cart, and I know I didn’t see the checker scan any, but I really was expecting to find a miracle bag of potato chips amongst my other groceries.

A Tough Day at the Office

Today I want to growl. If only I was a bear, I could walk around growling and no one would give it a second thought. Well, I guess it would depend on where I was sauntering (as all bear walks inevitably turn into saunters). Back at the office, the growl is frowned upon, and even if I was a bear, I don’t think this policy would be revised. In the middle of a huckleberry patch, however, the growl would be tolerated and perhaps encouraged. Well, of course, I can’t turn myself into a bear at a huckleberry patch; instead this weekend may find me at the zoo roaming around the bear exhibit. I’m predicting that these bears will be letting out some very loud “GRRRRRRRRRRRs”. If you happen to be in the area, don’t be surprized if you hear the bears growl while their mouths are seemingly closed; rumor has it they have been practicing for future ventriloquist acts.

Happy Birthday!!!!

Sydney tried to visit at least once a year. Sometimes he gave a warning of his upcoming arrival, like a weatherman’s prediction of precipitation: 85% chance on Friday. Other times, he just appeared, waiting for them in the yard until they got home. He liked to time his visit for the birthday celebrations that took place around the last week of January. This year it was already January 20th and there had been no trace of him.

The family in the red brick house were beginning to be a bit concerned. Comments could be heard such as, “I hope Sydney didn’t spend Christmas in Hawaii and succumb to heat stroke.” And others would counter with, “I hope he’s not hibernating the winter away in a Polar Bear Den. If he set an alarm clock, his snooze button pounding is sure to make those bears crotchety. “ The list of reasons for Sydney’s late arrival and perhaps eventual no-show were getting the family worked up into a frenzied state of alarm.

Finally, the Mr. had to chime in with, “Now don’t start getting hysterical. You know Sydney likes to be unpredictable and keep us toe-tapping. He’ll be here by the end of the month, don’t you worry.” This was said with such authority that the family knew better than to continue with worrying scenarios, at least out loud.

On the eve of January 25th, after everyone had gone to sleep, snow began falling softly outside. The peaceful cold and muffled quiet that comes when large flakes hit the ground woke up the Smallest Miss. She knew at once what the stillness meant and jumped out of bed to open the window. Sure enough, Sydney had arrived; the fluffy white man was floating down from the sky unassembled. He saw the Smallest Miss in the window and beckoned her to bring out his carrot nose and put him together.

The Smallest Miss hurried to put on her boots and mittens. She did not want to keep Sydney waiting, and rushed outside grabbing the special carrot nose and bag of Oreos. It seemed like Sydney was bigger this year and the Smallest Miss had never before put him together by herself. It was delightful work and the two friends both enjoyed the moonlight frolic in the snowy backyard. When they had finished, Sydney was taller than the Smallest Miss and had a grin from ear to ear. “Happy Birthday,” said Sydney as he pulled a cupcake from his secret pocket. And so the Birthday Girl and the Snowman shared a midnight cupcake picnic, lighted by the cheery glow of one candle.

The family was astonished the next morning to see that Sydney had arrived; and not just arrived, but was also assembled. The Smallest Miss and Sydney just smiled and shared a wink as the others speculated on possible explanations. If they had looked closely, they may have found the only clue to the night's celebration; a drop of candle wax and a cupcake crumb.

A Hopeful Beginning

The meeting had been planned for weeks, but that didn’t mean she was ready. This was not a surprise; she was never ready for events dictated by a calendar. It was like she tried to live in an elastic world, where time flexed and was not contained in the rigid blocks of weeks and months. This actually worked to some degree; she had been known to send Christmas Cards out at St. Patrick’s Day, squirrel away fireworks from July to brighten a cold night in October, create a Thanksgiving Thankful List in February, and keep friends on their toes with erratically scheduled birthday whistle serenades. This year, she assumed that once again the welcoming party was more or less optional, and she could catch up with the newcomer at the Chinese festivities where there would be dragon kites and lantern parades.

On the Eve just before midnight, she found herself in bed with an unsocial cold; in bed, but not asleep. Her thoughts began leading her down a path. At first, she saw a path strewn with bushes of good-byes. Good-bye to a sister bound for Germany - Good-bye to a relationship that had once seemed promising - Good-bye to friends whose lives had excitingly diverged - Good-bye to a cooking career (this bush was more like a small weed as a cooking career had never really been hopeful). However, as she looked closer, the good-bye bushes were not seeping sadness as they are known to do, but rather were catapulting possibilities. Sprouting up visits and opportunities to live in new environments - Zinging a longing to find love and companionship in the only One who can truly provide these things – Shooting out tendrils of new friendships and deepening the existing ones - Blooming of other hobbies to be practiced and shared. And when she woke on Friday morning (that is late morning), she was delighted the meeting had not been missed and excited to begin her acquaintance with this New Year called 2010.

Calendar - 7 days late but months early!

For the last six years, I along with 11 others, have made one calendar page for the upcoming year. At first my goal was to get the page turned in before Jan 1, and then it became not to be the last person to turn it in. This year I tried to get it in by deadline (Dec 1) and almost succeeded! Of course, it helped that I have had this idea for the calendar page for three years now.

The information I acquire to complete the calendar pages sometimes is long-lasting - I still wake up with "ants in the pants" rhymes from a calendar page done two years ago. This year I plan to be quite a hit at cocktail parties with my new found knowledge of fun state facts - anytime the conversation lags, I'll be there with a "Did you know in Minnesota, state law requires feet to be placed on all bathtubs?"

P.S. I am getting a little more digital with the calendar creations, but still am relying on crayons, scissors, and glue - this means that the original looks much better than the scanned copy:( Perhaps my goal for next year will be a completely digital version!

Where does all the time go?

The clock switched from 12:37 to 12:38. Another minute was gone. It was sad, really, to see a minute with so much promise disappear as all the others had. Where do the used up minutes go? I couldn’t bear to watch another minute fall to his fate and so rolled over and tried to shield my face with a pillow.

“Good news Mr. 12:37. It turns out, nothing of importance has happened on your watch and we will not be needing a statement. Have a pleasant journey. I hear the black holes are charming this time of year,” the master of time said in a jovial voice belaying the fact of dismissal.

“But wait sir, I’ve still got a little tick in my tock,” the minute pleaded. “With a bit of coloring and low light, I could be used again, perhaps in the Fives. After all, no one cares what a minutes looks like at five in the morning.”

The master of time just waved good-bye, unwilling to waste even another second on the poor minute.

An Autumn Dance

When walking down the street I can’t help but do the Leaf Hop. Sometimes this is a solitary dance, but every now and then the leaves take an active part in the twists and twirls creating an autumn ballet. The pursuit of a brightly colored, crispy leaf as it floats tauntingly down the sidewalk is irresistible. To catch the quarry in a single satisfying crunch gives me delightful shivers.

The meandering skip and hop that inevitably accompanies a walk among leaves is unnoticed when I’m by myself. The other day, my new friend Jaysen and I went on a walk through the neighborhood. I realized half-way down the block that I was selfishly crunching all the leaves. In an attempt to mend my manners, I made an effort to avoid the next beautiful leaf we encountered. I willed my legs to walk in a straight line and the feet reluctantly followed. To my surprise, as we approached the leaf, Jaysen did not alter his stride at all. In my opinion, the steps leading up to a good leaf stomp are important, but I can understand other people may have differing techniques. I waited in curious anticipation to see how he would tackle his leaf, but we walked right on by without even an attempt to capture the crunch!!! Knowing that perhaps the best leaf of the walk had been missed, I had to run back and hop. I landed with the leaf squarely beneath both feet. “A perfect 10,” crunched the leaf.

I rejoined my friend. “Your scampering makes for difficult conversation,” he said. It was hard to gauge whether he was annoyed or amused, but I resolved to give him my undivided attention for the rest of the walk. Ignoring the beckoning calls of my ballet partners, I made it to the corner and across the crosswalk. But when we turned down the next street, an orange-red maple leaf, with perfectly dried coiled edges stood alone in the center of the sidewalk. Giving me a bow, the leaf asked in a deep mischievous voice, “May I have this dance?”

Tales from the Coffee Shop

(An excerpt)

She kept forgetting that sitting side by side with fellow customers at the coffee bar did not make them her friends. They had their own thoughts and conversations, and she had to stop herself multiple times from joining in. The guy on her left was setting up a date using his cell phone. It seemed to be going very well, if that nervous leg tapping was any indication. As specifics were discussed, the whole table began shaking as if everything about the guy was excited. She looked at his animated face and thought that any girl would be a fool to turn him down.

Apparently, the girl on the other end was no such fool. He ended the call with a huge grin on his face. “Congratulations,” said her voice before she could stop it.

He looked a little surprised and then embarrassed. His huge grin turned a bit sheepish, “Sorry, was I that loud? I’m just a little excited.”

“No worries,” she answered back, relieved that in his excitement he did not perceive the creepiness of her accidental cross-over from eavesdropping to conversing. “I would give you a high five, but I don’t know you that well.”

"Yeah, I'm more of a fist bump type of guy myself," he laughed and extended his fist in a friendly punch. And that was her first introduction to Joel.

A Silly Conversation

“You are silly,” Self said with a hint of disapproval.

“I know, which means I’m actually not”

“That statement proves my point!”

“No, it proves mine. The fact that I am aware of being silly shows that my true nature is rather sensible. It tolerates the attempts at silliness - sometimes with amused indulgence, sometimes with exasperation.”

“Do you see how silly you sound now?” Self asked suspiciously.

“Sadly, yes – Try as I might, I can’t escape being logical”

Self seemed to be satisfied, and let me slip quietly to sleep, where my pet giraffe was waiting for me patiently. (Which is good because it is not easy to tap your foot in impatience if you have gangly giraffe legs)

Halloween Song

Last year about this time, I had a visitor while getting ready for work. It inspired the following song set to the tune of "A Beaver Ate My Thumb".**

There was a spider in my tub
Giving himself a little rub-a-dub-dub
I did not like him there
Splashing around while I was washing my hair
And so I said to him
Look here, Mr. Spider, your future’s very grim
He went quickly down the drain
I’m afraid he’s no more, but he’s not in any pain

** I'm pretty sure this is a fake song, but it does have a catchy tune:)

P.S. Spiders seem to feel right at home in my house. Perhaps they are under the misapprehension that it is a haunted, abandoned place. I am trying to spread the word that this is not the case and that cobwebs, while unique, do not make great wall hangings!

Home Again, Home Again

Yesterday, the day of the test, I was scared that I wouldn't wake up and so set 3 alarm clocks. There was no need to worry - I was awake long before the alarm went off. Today, however, my alarm clock system failed, and the two days with only 6 hours of sleep finally kicked in. I woke with just enough time to catch my flight. I reasoned that no-one would know that the clothes and hairstyle were an exact repeat of yesterday (I did manage to brush my teeth.)

A voice cut through this illusion as I made my way down the airplane tunnel with a "Hey, how are you doing?" I turned around, and the woman behind me was the person I sat next to in yesterday's exam!!!! What are the chances? Well, if I knew the answer to that question, yesterday's test probably would have caused me no problems... I would say, "Well that was embarrasing, but I'll never see her again", however, this statement somehow lacks confidence.

On a sad note, I arrived home to find a fire damaged neighborhood:( The destruction one block from where I live is amazing (and not in a good way). It has inspired me to do some major cleaning, so that no-one thinks my apartment was a victim of the chaos.

Test Anxiety

I finished taking two major tests today. Although I don’t officially get the results for another thirteen weeks, there were some minor clues that the morning test won this round.

- Sadly I did not have a watch and was not good at gauging the time… when the proctor said 15 minutes remained I had only completed 30 out of the 50 questions.

- When I didn’t know the answers to questions 1-7, I skipped to the end of the test, Question 50, hoping things would be easier if I worked through the problems backwards. This seemed to be a good strategy and I was on a roll until Question 47. I knew how to do the problem, but it seemed like one critical value was missing from the problem statement. I was not to be deterred however, in attempting a solution, for a question I mostly understood. I assumed a value and got an answer that closely matched one of the multiple choice answers. Yay! I circled my scantron and flipped the page to Question 46. A nice diagram jumped off the page and introduced itself as the “little green friend“ who would help me with Question 46-47, and yes, my assumed value was slightly different from the given value in the picture. So even though I did not finish all 50 questions… I did do some of the questions twice – I don’t think that counts for anything.

- “Little Green Friends” were jumping off the pages talking to me during the test!!! (And they were not the helpful ones from Chemistry Class either)

- Near the end I resorted to this strategy: Calculate and obtain answer. If solution is a close match to any of the multiple choice answers, cross out that answer to narrow “educated” guess down to remaining three choices. (33% is better than 25%, right?)

And so I use the term “finished” loosely as I will be back… to face this test another day!!!! (I just hope it’s ready.)

P.S. Where do the proctors come from? Is there a pool of proctors? Is there a way that I can figure a proctor position into my retirement plans? (Do they allow proctors to heckle?)

Is anyone still here??

I tried to sign up for a blogger account today – I know, I finally arrived!! Probably only to discover that everyone has left and gone to some other computer land world that I haven’t even heard of yet. Yes, I am from the pen pal era, and in fact am still waiting for the zebra to come from my friend who was writing using her zoo animal stationery. Technically, however, I still have not actually arrived! I couldn’t get it to work on my computer due to some cookie blocking software. Did I actually tell the computer that I needed to lose a few pounds, or did it assume that on its own? I’m not sure if I should feel loved or offended.

I did make it as far as checking available blogger names, and I must say that was frustrating and hilarious at the same time. There are now a few blogs that I need to check out!! The one I finally ended up with …”but we get there” comes from a cartoon song that I saw as a kid. I loved it, but have no idea where it originated, or how I saw it. Basically, all these fast cartoon animals were getting to fun locations and then the chorus would show the slow turtles and have a line like “We may not go whizzing by with skateboard speed………..but we get there.” I thought it was hilarious (and still do) and it strangely is a good tagline for my procrastinating life-style… which some day I plan to work on!

P.S. I think I finally did arrive!!! Nice to meet you blog world!