2.27.2007

Just a Reminder to Help You Pave Your Pathway

Jill and Me

Last week, my cousin Jill celebrated her birthday.

I was doing some "computer work" for BJ. He was hovering over my shoulder when we decided to send Jill a text message to wish her a happy birthday.

>Happy birthday! BJ says you're old!
>Thanks! But I'm only twenty-five, right?
>Sure! If that means I'm still twenty-four!
>No matter how old we are, BJ will always be older!
>Much MUCH older!
>Grandma just called.
>At least she remembered. She forgot Doll's birthday a couple of weeks ago.
>Poor Doll! She has always managed to remember mine.
>She could never forget mine . . .
"Don't say it's because you're Momma's favorite," BJ said. "Don't make her sad on her birthday!"

"You're the one who said she was old! I wasn't going to say that anyway!"

> . . . because . . .
"She couldn't forget your birthday because you start reminding everyone six months in advance!"

2.25.2007

And Challenged the Laws of Chance

Mitch and Bret

Today, Doll, Mitch, Bret and I went to see Reno 911!.

I've always thought the television show was funny and saw a trailer for the movie sometime back, and have been excited for the film ever since.

"This movie is going to be awesome!" Bret exclaimed as we walked up to the theatre.

"Yeah. It's going to be funny!" Mitch agreed.

"I'm pretty sure I'm going to pee my pants," I warned. "But I'm also afraid we saw the funniest parts in the trailer."

I think that might be when Doll decided not to sit by me.

We got our tickets and gave them to the ushers at the velvet ropes.

"Down the hall to your left, first on your right," they instructed.

At the entrance to that particular theatre, there was another usher. Doll and I started to walk past him, but he stopped us. "May I see your tickets, please?"

This is new. We had already shown our tickets once. We all looked at each other and produced our tickets.

He looked at Doll's, then mine and let us through. We walked in, and I heard the usher behind me. "May I see your IDs?"

"Doll!" I called. "They're checking IDs!"

As she went back to vouch for the boys, I tried to think of another time I'd seen them so tight about checking for viewers to be age seventeen and up.

I did remember a few times seeing people get rejected for buying tickets because they weren't old enough. And once, when I took the boys to a movie, the girl behind the counter asked "Are they your kids?"

Apparently, they needed to be under adult supervision to watch the particular movie.

But never had I seen a second ID checkpoint.

"This movie must be really bad!"

And it was. Hilariously nasty bad.

More News at 11

Fire!

There's this ancient hamburger joint just north of where I live. It's some kind of historic place.

It sits just across the street from a local high school and students are the main patrons.

It's a tiny joint and everytime I drive by, I think about how I should really stop there sometime. Just to see what all the fuss is about.

I can't remember when, but it's been awhile since I read about how the hamburger place was up for sale. The article told of how the owners were loath to sell, but just couldn't handle the place anymore. They were hoping to find buyers who were willing to keep up the tradition.

I've noticed the "For Sale" sign in the window for quite some time.

Today, I headed up north and when I got to Thirteenth Street, I noticed two police cars blocking eastbound traffic. Then I noticed about six fire trucks.

I assumed the school was on fire. But, watching the news tonight, I found out it was actually the hamburger place. A fire had broken out in a tiny storage closet.

Now, I'm not trying to say anything here. The owners seem like good, honest people. But the place has been for sale for a long time.

And I never got a hamburger!

This Golden Bird Flies Free

Storm Clouds

When I was in Lawrence, Tanna and I lived in an apartment with two awesome balconies. I think we spent more time on the balconies than inside the place.

One night, a police car whipped into our parking lot and started shining his spotlight all over the place. One policeman jumped out and ran into the woods surrouding our complex.

"Huh," I said. "This seems interesting." And as another police car pulled in and another policeman ran into the woods, instead of heading inside to safety, I called everyone to the balcony.

I've always been a little bit that way. Unafraid? Carless?

While I worry about others, I was the kid who, even after hearing stories about the scary things that could happen in an alley, I was never afraid to take them as shortcuts.

I was never frightened to go out walking after dark. Driving through sketchy neighborhoods didn't worry me.

And now I'm in Wichita, which should all means be much scarier than Lawrence.

I've always felt pretty safe in my neighborhood. Riverside is pretty well patrolled by police and it's quiet. There's some old stately homes as well as cozy bungalows.

The only sirens I usually hear are from ambulances and the occasional fire truck.

And there is the occasional paddy wagon or ghettocopter (as Casey would say). Otherwise, it's quiet around here.

But the last few months, I've been feeling some off vibes.

One evening, I went for a walk and saw two police cars parked beside each other in the middle of the streets so the drivers could talk to each other.

I looked at them, but continued on, thinking they had just happened upon each other and stopped to chat.

Until, upon seeing me, they broke away from each other and the one drove past me veeeerrrrry slooooowly.

Then, a few weeks ago, I had stopped by the store to pick up a few things after work. As usual, a few things turned into a few hundred, so I had to go back down to my car to get the rest of my stuff.

As I walked to the street, I noticed a police car driving down the street, shining his spotlight into houses and all the dark shadows.

Always the stupidly unafraid, I went on to my car, wondering what rock-thrower they might be looking for.

As I was reaching for the stuff in my trunk, I heard a car approaching. I turned and saw a police car pulling into the alley behind me. "Ma'am," the policeman greeted as he scoped me out.

But, I never read or heard any news about murders or robberies in the area. So why worry?

Tonight, I was talking to Raw on the phone. I was telling her a story and glanced at the television to see my apartment!

" . . . as a woman is taken from her home . . ."

"They're showing my apartment on television and talking about a woman being abducted! I gotta go! I'll call you back!"

I called BJ and Doll to see if they had seen the same thing. Of course, they had quit watching the same channel I was by that time, so they had missed it.

I checked out the three local network channels' websites to find all three had the same top story.

Scary Night For Wichita Couple
Couple robbed; wife abducted
Robbers Break Into Home, Kidnap Woman

Yeah. That's like right next door. Maybe it's time to start being afraid!

Bad Reputation

Star Spangled Banner

"I think it's silly when people say 'I don't want to go to Africa because I'm afraid I might see too much misery.'

"To me, that's like saying 'I don't want to visit America because I'm afraid I'll see too much gunfire.'"

2.14.2007

You Said "I Still Love You"

Out My Window

They say that February is the shortest month, but you know they could be wrong.

Compared, calendar page against calendar page, it looks to be the shortest all right. In its galoshes--and you'll never catch February in stocking feet--it's a full head shorter than December, although in leap years, when it has growth spurts, it comes up to April's nose.

However more abbreviated than its cousins it may look, February feels longer than any of them. It is the meanest moon of winter, all the more cruel because it will masquerade as spring, occasionally for hours at a time, only to rip off its mask with a sadistic laugh and spit icicles into every gullible face, behavior that grows quickly old.

February is pitiless and it is boring. That parade of red numerals on its page adds up to zero: birthdays of politicians, a holiday reserved for rodents, what kind of celebrations are those? The only bubble in the flat champagne of February is Valentine's Day. It was no accident that our ancestors pinned Valentine's Day on February's shirt: he or she lucky enough to have a lover in frigid, antsy February has cause for celebration indeed.

Tom Robbins
Jitterbug Perfume

2.12.2007

I've Punched the Devil in the Eye

Christmas in Lamar 2006

I'm busy making muffins.

I'm a bit of a muffin maniac. They're easy to make and the combinations are endless! And who doesn't like a muffin?

People seem to be a little food-obsessed at work. I feel like we're always having food days.

I didn't feel like spending a whole lot of time preparing, so I'm making my secret reicpe ham and cheese muffins.

The last time I made them, I was furiously baking baby muffins for the baby shower.

I made lemon poppy seed muffins, also, and my first batch turned out a bit extra brown. And my grandpa wasn't going to let me forget it.

All weekend long, I heard things like "Well, this batch doesn't seem quite as charred," "Are these supposed to be black?" and "Is something on fire?"

How did I end up born to two families who love to give each other crap?

The day after the shower, my dad smoked a turkey and mashed up some taters. As everyone around the table complimented Dad on his mad skillz, Dad nodded his head and patted me on the back. "Yeah. I take after my daughter."

Grandpa started laughing. "But this food isn't burned!"

"That's it!" I yelled as I pounded my fist on the table. "I'm gonna punch you in the face!"

Grandpa just laughed and Grandma said "Uh oh, Poppa."

"Yeah, Poppy!" I bellowed. "You really crossed the line, now!"

"Well," he explained. "I like to live on the edge."

2.11.2007

I Bet You Tied a String on Your Finger

Mmm . . . Cake!

Well, it looks like Miss Celebrate Any Occasion has gone and forgot the anniversary of her first post.

Whoops.

Please refer to everything I said last year.

And, in some sort of coincidence, I've been trashing and rearranging my place all weekend.

Thanks for sticking with me!

2.06.2007

Dear Dave, Thanks for the Support

Tasia's Baby Shower

This weekend, while watching The History Channel, I learned that White Castle originated in Wichita.

And yet there's no longer a White Castle in Wichita. How does that happen?

So, not only have I never had a White Castle Slyder, I'm missing out on a great Valentine's Day dinner!

2.05.2007

Shower the People

Tasia's Baby Shower

No, no. I haven't disappeared into oblivion, yet. I've been busy baby showering.

When I told my friend Christine that I was having a baby shower, her first thought was "Who put her in charge of a baby shower???"

It really isn't an unusual thought. I'm pretty non-girly most of the time, and don't have a whole lot of experience with this stuff.

So, I of course start out going totally overboard. I think of about one thousand games and all kinds of decorations.

I even made poor Jacque help me make snow globes out of baby food jars.

Last week, I got to thinking about the cake. And how my last experience serving cake turned into a total disaster.

"Doll? Will you cut the cake at the shower?"

"I'm not cutting the cake!"

"But I can't do it! I won't cut it into the right sizes and I'll run out and do you remember what happened last time I tried to serve cake???"

She sighed. "I'll cut the damn cake."

It turns out the cake had little grooves in it to help guide the cutting. So I didn't really need Doll to do the cutting. But I made her do it, anyway!

She was a big help all day, actually. She and my mom catered to my insanity while helping me set up the room.

"I think I liked the cake better on the other side. Can you move it back?"

It really ended up being a pretty simple shower. I didn't do any crazy games, but had plenty of door prizes.

My Aunt Deb won the first prize and started it off right by giving the gift to Tasia, instead.

Doll had her eye on one of the prizes and didn't like it that Deb gave hers away. "That's gonna make me look bad when I keep mine!"

We had a smaller turn-out than I had originally anticipated. Some people that had sent their RSVP backed out at the last minute. Apparently, it's that time of the year and a lot of them were sick. Including Tasia's mother and sister.

They live in Sublette and apparently, there's some super virus running through that town. I know Tasia was disappointed they couldn't be there. We all were. We've been excited about finally meeting The Boy's other grandparents and aunt. But I can't say I was too disappointed. I didn't want them giving me the virus!

I enjoyed seeing several people I hadn't talked to in quite awhile. All the "townies" showed up, at least long enough to say "Hello!"

I was trying to be the hostess with the mostest and chat with each guest. I was also running around taking pictures, writing down presents and serving cake.

I didn't cut it, but I had to serve it!

As the shower wound down, I would grab something to pick it up. Then I would get distracted, telling someone goodbye and thanks. By the time everyone had left, I looked around and Doll, Deb and Grandma Peggy had already cleaned everything up. That's the way I like to clean!

You should have seen the pile of crap The Boy got! It's ridiculous! He's not even born yet and already incredibly spoiled!

Have I ever mentioned how awesome my family is? Because they are. Thanks for helping with and without being asked.

And thanks for the presents. Marcus will enjoy playing with all the toys!


You can see the ridiculous amount of pictures I took by clicking here.