No Doi

We've Moved

2007-11-04T17:28:00.000-05:00

No Doi has a new home. Please pay no mind to the boxes on the floor, bare walls, and obnoxious template design. It's a work in progress. It just means that you'll have to keep visiting every day to watch the changes.

Don't forget to change the info in your readers/rss feed-amabobthingys.

www.nodoi.minimalpixel.com

(Yes, this means I will no longer be posting here. Because, I've moved here. So, come see.)

Girls Have Eco-Shape

2007-11-02T19:24:00.001-04:00

Husband and I spent the last 24 hours at an event. One of those events that includes an impressive guest speaker, copious amounts of snacks and (non-alcoholic) beverages, and the expectation that you will ~~mingle~~ build relationships. Good times. And while there was an impressive speaker, my favorite take-away from these sessions was the discovery that women are naturally eco-friendly. According to the label, this New Eco-Shape Bottle design contains 30% less plastic than regular bottles. Conservation is important. And I speak for females everywhere when I say to the world, "You're Welcome."

It's Official

2007-11-01T12:25:00.000-04:00

Happy first day of November! And you know what that means...NaBloPoMo! Since I failed the Unofficial NaBloPoMo I purposed myself with in May, I've decided to participate in the Official NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) this month. Plus, I've just lost my job, so I'll have quite a bit more free time this month. Which is both good and bad. Good that I'll have no excuse to not blog, and bad because nobody sends me a paycheck for the blogging. Yet.

So basically, participating in NaBloPoMo means nothing more than posting something to your blog once every day for the entire month. EVERY DAY! Including weekends! And really bad days. And days where you can't complete a thought, let alone a sentence. Seeing as how I haven't posted anything on this blog for over a month, this should not be an intimidating task at all.

Filed under PRO on the Should We Adopt? Scale

2007-08-24T16:19:00.000-04:00

You know when you get married, or enter any kind of exclusive relationship, that there will be a certain level of give and take. One of the things that Husband and I give each other is the option of attending or not attending non-holiday extended-family get-togethers. (The holiday related family get-together policies are drafted, presented, and voted upon during small, closed meetings not entirely unlike the G8 Summits.)

Several weeks ago I was presented with an opportunity to take and thereby pass up the invitation to attend the Annual Husband's Family Reunion. I, however, chose to give and decided to attend - but only after signing a notorized document stating that I was attending of my own free-will.

We get there, after a heinously long drive, and walk into the front door of the Senior Center to find ourselves immediately in the food line. After filling our plates with Family Reunion Food, we headed further in to find some family that we actually know, and end up passing Very Tall Man in a Kilt--with whom we are later forced into posing for a picture. Husband is ecstatic to find out that the family tartan is formed entirely by varying shades of blue, and proceeds to plant his blue plaid flag firmly on the grounds that his undying affection for blue plaid shirts is obviously genetic and therefore cannot and should not be stifled. We find family that we recognize but alas, find no available seating near them. Fortunately, we find more family that we recognize hiding in the back "Kids Area" and decide to join them. Strangely, there's a corner of the "Kids Area" room where a dog owner is camping out with her dog that has taken a bite out of no fewer than two reunion attendees. Good place for a skittish dog, near the kids.

Conversation with familiar family is pleasant. Then that one Uncle shows up. You know the one. The one who has all the crazy stories about life in the 'holler, and without the back-up of certain trusted eyewitnesses you'd never believe his stories? Yeah, that Uncle. Well, the conversation quickly turns to outhouses and indoor vs. outdoor plumbing when he poses this question to me: "Did you always have indoor plumbing?" And when I kinda stare at him, half trying to form a response and half watching to see if he's joking, he repeats, "You know, growing up? Did you ever have an outhouse?" Um. No. See, I was born in 1981 and by then most people in the United States have had indoor plumbing for quite some time. But I do have a Grandma, who as a child, got a pencil as her only Christmas present. And accidentally dropped it in the outhouse. And fished it out, because she isn't going to let a little poop ruin her Christmas. That's as close as I come.

Time to leave. We say our good-byes. Head for the car. We made it, it wasn't too crazy! Seeing family is nice. I might agree to come next year, I am a good wife. We are steps from our car when the euphoria is interrupted by an uncle who dosen't ever remember meeting Husband and tells my Mother-In-Law that he didn't know that she and my Father-In-Law ever had any children. "Whatever!" she says to him, in a much nicer way. We wrap up the introductions and I stick out my hand for him to shake good-bye when he pulls me in for a hug. AND A KISS ON THE NECK. He totally stole some sugar. Mother-In-Law assures me that it's not personal, he does this to all the women because he is odd. Oh no. Odd or not, it's personal. There are only a few acceptable stranger-kissing zones on the body and the neck IS NOT one of them. Not in America.

This time in the give and take game, I gave. And I got taken.

Questions They SHOULD Have Asked

2007-07-18T16:14:00.000-04:00

1) Are you a stickler?
Not in the way that if I had to describe myself in only three words, one of them would be "stickler."

2) Do these pants make me look fat?
Not at first. But probably after lunch and as the day wears on, you'll find them increasingly uncomfortable.

3) Tell us the nicest thing anyone has ever said to you.
It happens every time someone laughs at something I say. Unless, I'm feeling irritable and Husband laughs when obviously it is not funny!

4) If given the choice, would you prefer to be able to breathe underwater or talk to animals?
Immediately my reaction is definitely the talking to animals one because I don't really like water. But a thorough thinking-through of this choice is indeed necessary.
Breathing underwater; Pros: won't need the scuba lessons, fear of drowning no longer necessary baggage, childhood dream of feeling like a fish realized. Cons: not a huge fan of bodies of water larger than my bathtub, not a great swimmer, would require wearing a bathing suit in public more often than never.
Talking to animals; Pros: they could have some very interesting and insightful things to say and much could be learned, i could calmly ask bees, flies, mosquitoes, and other various buggy and icky things to just go away and stop bothering me, finally find out what the heck cats have to go around being all superior about. Cons: the "Dr. Doolittle" affect.
Hey, look at that shiny thing! Should I get a haircut or grow it out? I think I'm thirsty. This is kinda boring. Wait, what was I thinking about?

5) Do you make decisions easily?
Um. Yes. I think so. Wait. Most of the time. Uh, actually just see question 4.

The Other Reason I Married Him

2007-06-28T15:41:00.000-04:00

"I think that my least favorite phonetically spelled name -"

"Wait! You have one of those?!"

"Helloooo, yes! Have we met?"

"Of course, what was I thinking?"

"ANYWAY, my least favorite phonetically spelled name is Dante, spelled D-o-n-t-a-y."

"Oh! Yeah. That's a bad one! Mine is probably Duane spelled with the D first and then the Wayne afterwards."

"Yeah. Is that pronounced Dee-wayne or Doo-wayne?"

This conversation was updated this morning when I discovered Antwanette.

26

2007-05-25T23:12:00.000-04:00

Workin' for The Man.

Loot from my brother.
Some of these are late Christmas gifts for Husband, but since it's my b-day I claim all incoming presents. Tomorrow he can have them. Yep, that IS Mullet Wash (and it smells atrocious, by the way) and the new Feist cd. Which I did not yet own because apparently at 26 I am an old fogy. Oh, and lil' Bro - your fatal flaw here is that your b-day falls AFTER mine. If you think you've seen the last of the squishy killer whales, you are wrong my friend, dead wrong.

Cream of Violet and Dark Cocoa Gelato from Jeni's Ice Cream. So very lovely.

More Loot! I totally got a new iPod, and Season 1 of the BBC's MI-5 (aka Spooks). Also, a gigantic wire and rock ring that's perched on my index finger. And since I'm a huge fan of ridiculously large finger apparel, (as is clear by the wooden statement on my ring finger) BBC dramas, and Husband's iPod, I am therefore a huge fan of all my gifts.

Thanks for all the gifts, cards, ecards, emails, phone calls, and early b-day shopping trips. And much thanks to all who helped me survive year 25. It was hard work, but it was necessary.
26, here we come.

Not as much fun as the Weather-Girls on Telemundo, but probably just as reliable.

2007-05-23T16:43:00.000-04:00

The barometric pressure of the atmosphere in central Ohio is definitely changing. You know how I know? My toe that's how.

About four years ago, I broke the ring-finger toe on my left foot. Husband likes to laugh at me when I say ring-finger toe, as if I have finger-like toes, and then the brain moves on to toe-like fingers. And just so we're clear, I possess neither. But since 'ring toe' doesn't make any sense to anyone, I use ring-finger toe to describe the toe that sits to the right of the pinkie-toe on my left foot.

As I was ~~running~~ walking calmly up the carpeted stairs of our lovely and oh-so-safe townhouse (our personal property was only violated three times the year we lived there) I gracefully managed to place the corner of a step in between my third and fourth toes. Bumping into things with my appendages is actually one of my specialties. Hips, knees, shins, ankles, and now toes aren't safe with me. So the pain from having the stairs between my toes wasn't necessarily unfamiliar. It wasn't blinding, lightening pain. It was more a dull/thud/ache/tingly feel like when you hit your funny bone, but not as sharp. Normally that kind of pain fades after several minutes and by the time you stop shaking the affected appendage and creatively cursing, it has mostly vanished. But this time the pain didn't vanish. It kept hurting. A lot. Now I'm not one to be dramatic about slight pain - save for the creative cursing- so Husband had to pry it out of me. I hopped everywhere for the remainder of the evening and by the next day I could no longer deny it's swollen purpleness. I had officially broken my first bone. Or bones. I didn't take anatomy, but I know there are a lot of bones in the foot. As to how many make up a toe, I have no real idea.

The next couple of weeks I hobbled around not enjoying, at all, the sympathy attention I was ~~demanding~~ lavishly receiving. But amid all the stories I heard of others broken bones, not one person told me about what I could look forward too! Now I can plan my out-of-doors schedule DAYS in advance! Hmm...It's nice and sunny now, what will the weather bring in a few days? Most people need to check the 10 day forecast to find this info. Not me. I just check in with the toe.

The No Doi 10 Day Toecast for Central Ohio: Rain. OR summer has officially landed and it's gonna get much much warmer. Heed the Barometric Toe!

Black Hawk Down

2007-05-22T21:42:00.000-04:00

Guess what landed at our school today?

The National Guard dropped by. The students were out-of-their-minds excited. And I thought this picture of them marching in an orderly fashion would best illustrate that. The boys hugging are actually hugging each other in glee. They started jumping up and down as soon as I snapped the shot. Do you like the well placed light post?

These two boys wanted to know where the guns were located. They were informed that this helicopter only shoots flares. He tried explaining that the flares messed up the radar systems of other planes that might be shooting at them so that they could get away. Sadly, opinion polls show that the boys interest in the National Guard has now dropped to 30%.

Another good moment: 1st grade girl standing in line waiting for her turn inside the 'copter. "Those Army guys are HOT!" Um, yeah. You're like 7. And they're like, you're dad's age.

The pilot and I were hanging out near the cockpit so that he could answer any questions that the students might have. And so we could listen in on the conversations.

"Omigosh, there are so many buttons!"

"Yeah! Find the biggest button. That's the one that drops the bombs! It's always the biggest button! And it's usually red!"

It's rare, but occasionally I question my own sanity.

2007-05-21T15:31:00.000-04:00

Three reasons to keep jogging at my park:
1) This guy is my new jogging buddy.*
2) Baby raccoons, who's mama I'm afraid was laying by the side of the road, follow me for several minutes after thinking that I'd adopted them.**
3) I pass a woman who asks me how far I'm walking. I tell her I'm going 4 miles. She then makes a hooting noise and shakes her head implying that she thinks that is a long way. But then she says, "I'm going about 50 miles tonight! I hope!"

Just realized that Beth's b-day was a week ago today, and I totally forgot. Yep. I could list a bunch of excuses about how my life is so busy right now. But really I think it's because during the month of May, my brain just deletes any information about birthdays that is not directly related to my own birthday. I wish that I had a great pic of Beth to post here, but the most recent one I have of her is this pic of Husband sitting on one end of a couch and her sitting on the other end. She's holding her hands about ten inches apart. I cannot, for the life of me, remember what they were actually talking about, but I do remember her saying to me, "I left my hands up so you could get that picture." And this is one of the reasons that I love being her friend. She not only knew that I wanted a picture of her telling my Husband just how big it was, but she gladly played along! Happy Belated Birthday to my friend Beth. Next year, I'll try to remember to mention this on May 14th.

*Okay, so maybe "jogging buddy" does not accurately describe the relationship. He jogged past me, sans bodyguards, and smiled and said "hi" as he passed.

**When I came upon them, I was startled and said, "Babies!" aloud in a baby talk voice. They looked up from the grass and smiled and made little baby raccoon squeaks that I interpreted from their facial expressions to mean, "Oh good, you're here! We've been waiting for you!" And then they ambled up from their grassy spot and followed me. Then I asked, again in the baby voice, "Where is your mother?" They didn't answer because their baby raccoon legs couldn't keep up with mine and they were too out of breath to answer. They got tired after a minute and discovered the shrubs on the other side of the trail where they decided to hang out. (Growing up, I read a lot of books where the main characters were animals, so talking to them made total sense to me in the moment. Only afterwards did I realize that I really did talk, aloud, in public, to baby raccoons.)

***Ain't no way that lady was walking 50 consecutive miles. Tonight or ever.

My reaction to the 9th Grade Student Council Representative when she came to my office to make a delivery.

2007-05-18T16:02:00.000-04:00

"Here's your water bottle! Um, that's just some dust on there, not like, crack or anything."

"What! No crack? That's the only reason I ordered this thing! I want my money back! You promised me a plastic water bottle dusted in a light coating of crack!"

This is all I have to give

2007-05-14T21:50:00.000-04:00

Just spent an hour on a blog post. Tried to publish it. Blogger/the Interweb ate it up and it is gone. Don't have another hour, or even ten minutes to try to recover or rewrite.

I love technology, but not as much as you, you see...

Happy Momma's Day

2007-05-13T21:21:00.000-04:00

Moms. I love you. Thank you for putting up with me. And loving me in the process. One of you had to put up with my piles of shoes and picky food habits as I was growing up. The other one is putting up with them now. Thank you. I love you both very much.

How I Wonder

2007-05-12T20:08:00.000-04:00

"When it is darkest, you can see stars." Read the fortune in my fortune cookie. Lovely sentiment, I think to myself. As I am in a rather contemplative mood, this little sentence bounces around my brain for awhile. And it starts to annoy me. Because seriously, being in darkness is annoying. I know. I've been in a few dark places. And the dark is fine if you can just sit there or lay still, but often you have to keep moving in hopes of finding the light. And moving around in darkness is NOT FUN. You can like, stub your toes or trip over stuff or bruise your shins and basically get hurt! So I concluded that that fortune is stupid!

"When it is darkest, you can see stars." Even though I'd come up with a well thought out conclusion to the annoying fortune, I couldn't shake it so it continued to rattle around my skull. Stars. Hmm. Stars are nice. I like stars. As the song says, they are little and they twinkle. I love it when it's really dark outside and the whole sky is filled with....ooooohhh. Right. The stars. It's the stars. Not the darkness. I haven't seen any stars in awhile. I've been too busy shielding my shins from bruises and trying not to stub my toes.

"When it is darkest, you can see stars." Read the fortune in my fortune cookie. Lovely sentiment, I think to myself.

The Reason I Married Him

2007-05-11T14:26:00.000-04:00

Those raspberries look hairy. They're Hairy Berries! They're rasp-hair-ies!

Sleeping the Sleep of the Sleepy

2007-05-10T22:25:00.001-04:00

It has been a long day. A long day in a long week. I am tired in my bones. Some of it is not good tired. Like my over-crowded and over-stimulated brain reminding me of the week's events and the events of the coming days. Some of it is good tired. Like the way that my legs ache, reminding me of yesterday's run. I like the good tired aches. They remind me that I am alive, and that I'm glad to be alive. I'm glad to be making choices and working through and wrestling with the things that make me bad tired. It's exhausting work, but it's necessary work. And I'm glad to be working. I've spent a lot of time ignoring the work in my life and putting it off, and I was miserable. No longer able to ignore myself, I am now hopeful and peaceful and tired.

Tomorrow I will wake up and dive head first into the day's requirements. Learning and trusting and learning what it means to be me. But for a few moments now, I will rest.

How Wrong Is It If I Admit It Before You Call Me On It?

2007-05-09T21:08:00.000-04:00

Just so we're clear, I did not post anything yesterday on May 9th. I only had a few minutes right after work in which to write something, and it was just not going to be constructive or creative in any way shape or form. I decided to make better use of my time and go for a run. It was necessary. I don't want to use this blog space only to vent my frustrations or inner wranglings and no one wants to read about my visit to the doctor, especially because nothing interesting happend. I went in, paid the co-payment, filled out paperwork, waited in the waiting room, was called back by the nurse, weighed, blood pressure checked, asked about symptoms, waited for doc, read the barely funny stories at the back of Parents magazine, shook hands with the doc, she checked me out, gave me the "all clear" and I left. Sometimes, even in the middle of unofficial NaBloPoMo, I just need to go for a run instead. So I did. Now, thanks to the endorphin rush, I have no problems changing the date and time on the bottom of the post to make it look like I actually posted on May 9th.

There was one wonderful thing that did happen yesterday (or today depending on which day you believe this post was written) and that is Keturah's birthday! Happy Birthday girlfriend, I totally would have helped you party if I lived in Southern California. Watch the mail. Do you still love the color orange?

Diary of a Casual Professional

2007-05-08T16:25:00.000-04:00

Didn't even have them on for an hour and they already have a hole in them. Not ten minutes in the office and right on the top of my foot is a hole. That's nice. It definitely adds to the polished look I was going for. It was perfect timing too. Right before TWO back-to-back meetings with my boss and school administrators. I am the consummate professional. Why must I end up in jobs where they would prefer that I wear suit-y type things and iron my clothes? Pantyhose? Please. Next time I'll just wear the tattoo mustache. That way they won't notice that I'm wearing jeans.

Who knew?

2007-05-07T16:23:00.000-04:00

Hmmm...Block-y shoulders and a bulge between the legs...Apparently, my shadow is a man.

Click at your own risk

2007-05-06T21:15:00.000-04:00

More helpful links from Gmail:

Photofetti
Your photos turned into confetti. Unique birthday decorating idea!
www.photofetti.com
For when scissors just won't do.

The 65% Deception
It sounds like a good idea but it's a real and growing threat.
www.nea.org
I'm only 100% confused.

Girl Scout Badge
Low Price Guarantee! 12 Piece Min. Free 9 colors, Artwork, and Setup.
www.StadriEmblems.com
You can buy these?! If I had known that when I was 8, I would have used that cookie money...

Bend Over Pants Info
Get Info on Bend Over Pants from 14 Search Engines in 1
www.info.com/BendOverPants
Um...Info about pants that allow you or assist you in bending over?

Walter the Farting Dog
Free fast shipping! Huge selection. Order now and save. Low prices.
www.amazon.com
Amazon has a supplier that has a "Huge selection" of farting dogs named Walter?! No wonder they'll ship them fast and free!

Typical

2007-05-05T18:46:00.000-04:00

Last night I went to see a documentary about fonts. Helvetica is worth seeing if it comes your way. I also bought a couple of fake tattoo mustaches. It was a fabulous night.

If My Cubical Walls Could Talk, They'd Sound Like This

2007-05-04T16:01:00.000-04:00

When the volunteer work desk that sits on the other side of one of my cubical walls isn't covered with crock pots full of lil'smokies drowning in bbq sauce, it's usually full of middle school girls. Who are, oddly enough, also drowning in bbq sauce. Well, maybe the girls aren't in a sauce and the crock pot/little smokies thing only happened once, but after 8 hours of marinating, the air was a bit thick...Anyway, the girls are all too happy to help out the school secretary by giving graciously of their time. I can tell you, because I was one of them, that middle school girls absolutely loathe a legitimate excuse to get out of class. Overhearing their conversations is always entertaining; which more than makes up for the fact that, much like the weenie marinating, having them down here is not highly condusive to personal productivity.

Example 1
Girls labeling envelopes. Giggles. "Oh my gosh! Her dad's name is Guy!" Giggles. Giggles. "That's like the opposite of Girl!" Giggling. Giggles. "Wouldn't it be funny if someone's name was Girl!" Peals and peals of hilarious giggling giggles. "Yeah! Like, Hi. I'm Girl Smith!" Much giggling giggleness.

Example 2
Girls folding letters and stuffing them into envelopes.
Girl #1: "I think it would be so much fun to be a secretary and work in an office."
Girl #2 & #3 (in unison): "Yeah, that'd be awesome!"
Girl #1: "I can't wait! You get to photocopy things, and check the mail, and answer phones, and transfer people, and write things down, and bring people coffee."
Girl #2 & #3 (unison-do they practice?): "Ohmygoshyeah!"
Girl #2: "I'd be so scared to answer the phone!"
Girl #3: "I know! What happens if you transfer people to the wrong place?!"
Girl #1: "You'd probably get fired! But I'd never do that because I'm good at stuff like this."
Girls #2 & #3 (in unison): "Yeah...."

The above script was based on actual events. No middle school girls were harmed in the overhearing of these conversations. The weenies however, were smothered in a rich, thick sauce and enjoyed by most members of the paid office staff.

Ead-ray Ice-tway

2007-05-03T16:11:00.000-04:00

Almost written in an email to a friend:

"Girl, I have this HUGE zit on my chin. I tell you this not because I don't think you can't see the second face I'm growing, but because I know you'd know what it's like."

Yeah. I'm not great with the self-editing all the time, but I'm really glad that I caught myself on this one. What the heck!? Honestly, in my head it didn't sound this horrible. I really just meant that huge zits are a universal issue and everyone gets one at some point or another. It's like...say...sneezing. Everyone sneezes, so it's would be safe to say something like, "You know when you sneeze so hard that your eyeballs kinda have to recover for a minute afterwards?" This sentence would not be offensive to anyone.

Maybe if I put the collective-issue statement at the beginning of the sentence instead of the end?

"I know you know what it's like to have a huge zit, so I thought I'd tell you that I had one on my chin right now."

Wow. That is actually worse.

Never mind. No zit. Ix-nay on the it-zay. (my chin wishes.)

Supremo also means "Biggie Size"

2007-05-02T16:22:00.000-04:00

I love pasta. Especially long flat noodlely pastas drenched in thick alfredo sauce with broccoli and red peppers and chicken. Buca diBeppo calls this dish by a much shorter, though just as enticing name: Fetuccine Supremo. (Yes, I am American, therefore I automatically love eating pseudo-ethnic food at large chain restaurants, it's in our red, white, and blue blood.) Last evening, I was delighted to be eating this dish. I do not eat pasta very often. Which is a major switch for me as I used to eat it several times a week. However, I have some kind of weird food sensitivity and I've found that I feel MUCH, MUCH better when I avoid pasta not to mention the myriad of other foods I must now avoid. But since I have a whole month of blog posts ahead of me, I'll save that list for later.

Normally after eating a meal such as I did last evening (fetuccine supremo, baked ravioli, and some chocolate vesuvio - oh yeah, I did have some salad) I will be a rotten, horrible, miserable person the next day. It's not only much fun for me with all the depression and anxiety, but it's much much fun for those around me. Specifically Husband. Today, however, I am doing surprisingly well. The largest side effect has been that my facial expressions are not accurately mirroring my mood or opinion. According to Husband, today my face mostly shows signs of horror and disgust.

This, for me, is a really good step in the right direction. Since discovering the food/depression-anxiety connection, I've tried really hard to learn to tightrope walk that line between doing what I know is best for my body (and mind) and letting life happen.

Q: What if we're at a family birthday dinner and the restaurant serves the food family style? Will I have to force everyone to only get salad and lean proteins and hearty veggies?
A: No, just eat what they order, take a deep breath, and eat well tomorrow. Know that you might feel bad the next day, but that it's ok and the world will not end. Important, remember to breathe and eat snacks tomorrow.

But this time after a supremo pasta meal, I've not spent the day in a downward spiral of depression and anxiety. The deep breathing helps, because it signals my brain to take it easy, it signals my soul to stop gripping things that are out of my control so tightly and it reminds me that I am not alone in this and that I can ask for help and that help always comes. And it's kinda fun to have a face you can't trust, but only for one day.

Brain-glue, by the way, is NOT water soluble.

2007-05-01T16:05:00.000-04:00

What is it about certain songs? You know, those certain songs that have that weird sticky brain-glue all mixed up in the chorus. The effectiveness of this brain-glue is different, some songs stick around for days or weeks and sometimes months, but rare is the song that sticks inside your subconscious for years. And why, oh why, are they likely to only pop up and rear their ugly choruses when you least expect or need them to surface. Like in church. Or during a conversation with your boss. The song that surfaces for me - at an alarmingly frequent rate - and has since the first time I ever heard it, which I think was right after the full and complete signing of the Declaration of Independence - is the song Ghetto Superstar. There is no explanation. It just happens. Sometimes a song will stick with you because something significant is happening while the song is playing. And I totally understand that because absolutely nothing has ever happened in conjunction with me and the hearing of Ghetto Superstar. There are, however, two insignificant things that do always occur in conjunction with the hearing of that song, 1) I shake my groove thing. 2) I start intertwining the lyrics from Pras Michel, ODB, and Mya's Ghetto Superstar with Dolly and Kenny's Islands in the Stream. Fabulous. The only thing I enjoy more than having a gluey song in my head is having a gluey Dolly Parton/Kenny Rogers song stuck in my head! Because we go from Dolly/Kenny swaying in polyester to Kenny and his famous Kenny Roger's Roasters to K.R. Roasters on Seinfeld when Kramer was eating all the chicken and the blinding light from the restaurant sign in is apartment...he persuades Jerry to switch apartments...and then Jerry goes crazy...oh! remember the episode where they had no water pressure in the building and Jerry and Kramer's hair was all flat and weird because they couldn't wash out all the soap...ha!...and Man-Hands!!...SO funny!!!...When she touches is face but with her giant hairy knuckles!

(Jenna huddled in corner, rocking and cackling, and humming softly to herself. Every now and then you can make out the words that she whispers, "Ghetto Superstar, that is what you are. Sail away with me to another world, we can rely on each other, uh huh, from one brotha to anotha, uh huh.")

Children, this is what happens when you huff too much brain-glue. Brain-glue can be a useful tool, like when you need to remember things. Things like whether or not your husband prefers Colgate to Crest or has he made the permanent switch to Tom's of Maine? But brain-glue is a drug. And this is Jenna's brain on brain-glue. Any questions?

Things we discuss when we're alone...

2007-04-24T16:09:00.000-04:00

Husband: "What if Super Powers were opposite, and being really BAD at something was the super power? Like, me being bad at accents, it's my super power!"

Me: "If you could only have one super power what would you choose?
- I call being really bad at accents!
- Dude! I can't believe you took that one! Now I have to go with something dumb like flying or being invisible."

Both: "HAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

I know that you're only gone for one night, but how could I not miss having mini-conversations like these!

Maybe for the yearbook, they will photoshop it zipped.

2007-04-20T20:01:00.000-04:00

Sitting down at my desk after lunch this afternoon, I notice that my pants are unzipped. This does not surprise me as I am often noticing that my pants are unzipped. I do a quick brain scan of my morning to see if I can remember the last time I was supposed to have zipped them, but since I can't remember that crucial piece of information, I move on to list the people whom I have probably flashed since arriving at the office this morning. And we don't even have a Casual Friday policy! (Did you get much done this afternoon? Oh yes, I spent most of it thinking about how I work for a Christian school and how I walked around all morning with my underwear in plain sight!) So, there was that meeting with my boss...then some students came by to take my picture for the yearbook...um...I went up to the copy machine several times...oh! and a guy came to fix the phone in my office. Then, since I'm the kind of girl who likes to dream big, Husband and I went to lunch. At a restaurant that had so many patrons, they were lining up outside the doors to place an order.

You know what? Most people only dream (cough-havenightmares-cough) about walking around with their underwear showing. But not me, I'm the kinda girl who goes out into the world and makes her dreams (cough-nightmares-cough) happen!

Spring Break '07 Shout Out

2007-04-16T20:04:00.000-04:00

Working for a school means that I can occasionally pretend that I don't have a real job. I get to take two weeks off during Christmas and New Years AND a week off in the spring for Spring Break and none of that was listed that in the benefits package. (They also didn't list some of the stuff I'm required to do under the job description, but who's counting?) So thanks to a week off and plane tickets from my parents Husband and I headed to Springfield, a much coveted Spring Break destination and home of the Throwed Roll. Actually, Springfield is home to A LOT of things such as, Brad Pitt's high school and the Assemblies of God National Headquarters. But those exciting facts are for another post. (Probably on some other blog.) For me, Springfield is home to most of my growing up years.

Husband and I haven't had a chance to visit the city that brought us together since we moved (ran) away almost four years ago. Over the course of the week, we realized that we don't miss it at all. We also realized that there are lots of people living there that we do miss. And we miss them with a deep ache that we must have learned to ignore over the past couple of years. The ache was (and still is) undeniable and very palpable. I am still nursing it. To watch friendships pick up where they left off is an amazingly indescribable experience and even I can't string together enough adjectives to paint that mental picture. Also, seeing offspring of people that you've known since sixth grade is more surreal than I was prepared for. We saw lots of people and we didn't see lots of people, so if we missed you we are really sorry. Thanks to all the friends who made time for us and thanks to those who will still be friends with us even though we didn't have time to spend with you. We will do our best to not wait another 4 years to come back.

Bethie, the party was ridiculous fun. And the mango curry was amazing, but not as amazing as the conversation.
Fun Van-ers, thanks for showing up. We didn't know what to expect, but you reminded us why we called it the Fun Van in the first place.
Sam and Katie, Sorry we didn't tell you about the unofficial Which Couple Can NOT Have Kids Longer Contest. You probably would have tried harder if you'd known there was a competition. We're so excited about the new addition to your family this fall, and not just because we won. No, really.
Phil and Kristen, thanks for letting me crash your house for a couple of hours and introducing me to your kids. Mini-Chad and Cinderella are lovely, surreal, but lovely.
Earl and Jan, we'd so go to your church if we lived in Berkley. It's like we're dating, we always go out to eat, and you pay, and we part in a-flutter pining for next time. Maybe we can squeeze in a Council date? I promise to wear something cute. Thanks for listening to us young'uns, because we know you've heard it all before.
Mom and Dad. We love you and we loved being with you last week. It went by too fast. Thanks for getting tired of us being poor and buying us plane tickets. We'll do our best not to wait another 4 years to come back.

The Post Where She Talks About God

2007-04-08T17:58:00.000-04:00

For Lent this year I gave up Lent. It didn't start out that way at all. I had a big idea that this would be the year that I would really concentrate on and celebrate the significance of the season because recently I've discovered a new way to live and think and feel. I was introduced to a new Jesus. Actually, he introduced himself to me. And I was born again, again. You see, Sunday School Jesus and I have had a relationship (of sorts) for most of my life. (Sunday School Jesus is the Swedish guy that you see in all the movies who has a pat answer for everything and if he were any more serene, he'd be comatose.) That guy worked for me for awhile. I could believe in S.S.J. because my world was very black and white, so the pat answers covered things. All the rules were there for a reason. But at some point, I started noticing gray areas in my world, areas where all the rules and regulations I lived with really were not good alternatives because there were A LOT of people being left out. And when I went to where I knew to go for help with finding answers to my questions, all that was offered were more black and white ultimatums and harsher rules. Which in turn made me feel guilty and frustrated and sad. But this new Jesus has offered me a different point of view. One that embraces everyone and gray areas, wrestles with things that don't make sense, and insists that I be creative in seeking my answers. A faith that is not satisfied with making an appearance a few times a week, but one that must be exercised every day. And it's a freedom that I didn't know was possible. It is the freedom to be who I am. The last few months have been beautifully liberating as I am learning how to live out this new kind of relational faith.

I do not come from an orthodox background, so Lent was never something that I ever really learned about until I became an adult. Even now, my understanding of it is really basic. I had planned to really learn and connect with some very historical parts of my faith. And in the light of my new found freedom to embrace all things God, I was ready with both barrels loaded, to learn and glean and use these Lenten months to become very, very, Spiritual (with a capital S). In hyper-spiritual overdrive, I planned to read certain things at certain times, give up certain foods on certain days of the week, attend services at orthodox churches, so that I could truly have a big God experience. The first week went really well, because I am a good rule follower and because it was a light week in the Reality Department. The next week, I missed a few readings and didn't plan very well for the meals. Then all of a sudden I look around and I am not abiding by any of the rules and, uuuhh.....whoops, I haven't been for a couple of weeks now! Oh, this is not good. I'm gonna have to double-time it now because it's Holy Week and TRUE Christians really get what this week is all about. And after royally not getting around to double-timing it this week, my big redemptive plan was to attend a Good Friday service at the most orthodox place that I could find. As if that would somehow absolve my failure for reaching Uber-Spirituality during the past several weeks. Good Friday came and I managed to plan my day so well that I missed the service. So instead of spending the afternoon feeling like Mel Gibson at the premiere of The Passion of the Christ, I spent the afternoon hiding my guilt from Sunday School Jesus.

I'm not sure exactly when it happened, because I use what Husband refers to as the "Slow-Cooker Method." (It means that I have to wrestle and chew on things for quite awhile before they makes sense to me. I will usually have a strong gut level reaction to something, but it must be "slow-cooked" before I am able to articulate it.) But, at some point Friday evening, after slow cooking my guilt and my new found freedom together in the crock pot of my soul, Someone (with a capital S) whispered something else to me. Perhaps, in my attempt to Become Spiritual, all I did was trade one set of rules for another. I forgot about the relationship. And the relationship is what this whole things hinges on.

By giving up Lent for Lent, I didn't give up organized religion, I just loosened my grip on the box that I try to keep God in. He's bigger and WAY more interesting than I've ever given him credit for. I'm in a new relationship. We're learning how to live with each other and function together on a daily basis. I will get better at this. And I can't wait for Lent next year.

sKKKirt

2007-04-02T19:56:00.000-04:00

Only now has it occurred to me that perhaps the $2.99 it would have taken to get this skirt off the rack at Goodwill would have been money well spent.

Say Whaaaaa?

2007-03-28T17:20:00.000-04:00

I purposefully sit as near as I can to the table of old guys when I go to Block's Bagels:

"And then he said how much he loved Nascar. To be honest, I didn't really know where to go from there."

Cele-bray-chion

2007-03-23T15:51:00.000-04:00

The sump pump in my office building decided to extend the World Water Day celebration and filled the room where my cubicle resides with 3 or 4 inches of water last night. Yippee!

If you're interested in helping a family have access to clean water, right in their own home, check out this option. There are many, many ways for you to make changes in the lives of people who don't have what we have, but I don't have enough room on my blog to list them all, so here's one place to start. AND, the guy in the green shirt at the top of the page, his name is Salvador. AND, he's from the city SAN Salvador, in the country of EL Salvador. How could I not link to a picture of that guy?

World Water Day

2007-03-22T09:15:00.000-04:00

Yes, this is one of those blogs where every now and then the post will be only about some charity or world disaster. The author of this blog wants you to know that she has ZERO problems using this blog as a space for the benefit of people who don't have a voice.

March 22nd is a day that the United Nations has designated as World Water Day. The purpose of World Water Day is to raise awareness (especially in ridiculously wealthy countries, like the United States) about the unacceptable numbers of people in our world who do not have access to clean water. 1.1 BILLION people do not have access to clean drinking water.

Today, as we go through our Thursdays, I challenge you to think about how different your life would be if you could no longer grab a bottle of water, flush the toilet, wash your hands or your food, prepare your food in clean dishes, or do any of the other things that we do with water. Or if you had to do all of those things with one bucket of water from the bathtub after your entire subdivision had bathed there. Today is about raising awareness. And while awareness is the first step, we cannot stop there.

I invite you to check out the Global Map of Water. I found it to be an extremely interesting resource as I sit with the awareness of this issue and contemplate where I go from here. Because this is not okay with me.

50 Things I Love, In No Particular Order

2007-03-19T19:28:00.000-04:00

1) The veggie burger at Northstar
2) The internet
3) Reading
4) Fresh berries and Cindy's Sweet Cream
5) Movies at the movie theater
6) Writing
7) iPods
8) Email conversations with far-away friends
9) Fresh nail polish (on fingers and toes)
10) The feeling you get right after a shower, right after a work out
11) Husband's cooking
12) Singing while driving
13) Quiche
14) Buckwheat Zydeco
15) Snuggling with Husband
16) Massages
17) An uncrowded beach
18) Thunderstorms
19) Guacamole
20) French cider
21) Fleece pants
22) Sunshine
23) Listening to someone talk about something that they LOVE
24) Beyonce
25) Weekends
26) Falling asleep to the sound of rain
27) A new haircut
28) That moment when the lesson clicks and I learn
29) Mars Hill podcasts
30) Fuzzy socks
31) Running
32) I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor by the Arctic Monkeys
33) Context
34) The bread pudding at Der Dutchman
35) Lip balm
36) BBC mysteries
37) Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes
38) Candid photos
39) New running shoes
40) A good stretch
41) Live music
42) Alone time
43) Hanging out with friends
44) Overusing the word "Awesome"
45) Vietnamese cinnamon
46) Green curry
47) Receiving cards in the mail when it's not my birthday
48) Fresh cut flowers
49) Fish tacos
50) Laughing with my entire body

Under the Overpass

2007-03-12T20:06:00.000-04:00

Near my house there is a park with walking/biking trails that go on for miles. As much as I love visiting and exercising in this park there is a moment during each visit where I am confronted with how fragile a thing it is to be a human being. It's always the moment where I am walking next to the creek where trail dips below the overpass for I-270, the Columbus outer belt. At this point on 270, the road is split with cars going in opposite directions on separate roads altogether, so that when walking under it there are two overpasses above you. Cars, SUV's, and semi-trucks whiz over you less than 20 feet away. At this point on my walk I have at least one thought about a vehicle flipping itself over the side or a rock or some other piece of road debris flinging out from under a tire and impaling me in the head. As morbid as it sounds, it does make me pause and give thanks for the protection that has been afforded me and those close to me.

Over the past week I've had the opportunity to pause and think about the thin line between life and death more often than I'd prefer to think about within a span of seven consecutive days. A co-worker of mine had to decide whether or not to keep her 26 year old daughter on life support after a coma-inducing asthma attack . Her daughter passed away last Monday. On Tuesday, some family friends had to start thinking about whether or not to keep their husband and father on life support after a motorcycle accident. He died earlier today.

I cannot fathom the situation that my friends find themselves in this week though my heart breaks at their grief. I know that today I am unspeakably grateful for the protection afforded me and those close to me. Walking under 270 this afternoon was both more and less difficult than it has ever been.

2 Reasons Why Goodwill is Awesome

2007-03-11T15:39:00.000-04:00

Reason #1
Stranger: Hey! Nice hair!
Me: Thanks!
Stranger: We should put you on the E! Channel!

Not just a general, "You should be on tv." Nope. He knows specifically where on tv my hair belongs. According to this record clutching stranger, I have the hair for celebrity gossip. That. Is so. Awesome.

Reason #2
Disco Jeans for $1.99. And I know they're disco jeans because that's what the label says. That and the high waist. I tried them on for Husband when I got home and when I turned to show him the view from the back he says, "You've just transported your butt to 1974!" Double. Awesome. I'll probably wear them when I go on the E! Channel.

also including lots of things inside parenthesis

2007-02-27T16:24:00.000-05:00

Oh, there are so many things that I wish could write about right now, but time and creative juice just will not allow for it. Like I could tell you about my experience this past weekend with twenty 13-15 year olds at the Assemblies of God Ohio District's Fine Arts Festival 2007. Because riding shot-gun to Corky in the green church van packed with 9th grade girls all the way to Dayton to watch and perform Human Videos for two days would make a stellar post. Or there's the unwritten, but riveting, essay about my experience earlier this week sitting through lectures given by Robert Wuthnow at the local Methodist Seminary. (Have you ever seen Book TV? Imagine that kind of ambiance.) Or there's the never ending tension that I live with about being/becoming a pastor's wife. (GREAT story about the one time when I met James Dobson, that one I'm saving for a rainy day.) But as previously mentioned, none of those posts are written. Instead you'll be getting a post about nothing. Never fear, this post does contain an absurd amount of links for your clicking enjoyment. (Blue Words = Things You Can Click On) I originally included a couple of links so that if you didn't know what I was talking about, you could click and learn. Then I looked back and realized that all the links were kinda boring, and that I should definitely link to some things that were something other than boring. Because, let's face it, there are so many things on the internet that are anything but boring. So please, enjoy clicking around. It's my gift to you. No, please stop, it's really an honor just to be nominated.

Hey! That's Me!

2007-02-21T17:07:00.000-05:00

I don't have kids. I don't have pets. I work in a cubicle. I live in someone else's home. I don't drive a cool car. So naturally most of the pictures I take are of me. That, and I'm working on a compilation of pics of me looking remarkably like a bad drag queen. Seriously. I need a few more to round out the group, but they will eventually make it to the internet.
I've spent a lot of years avoiding pictures and cameras because the image that I had of myself in my head was decidedly NOT the image that showed up when a camera got involved. I am tired of living like that. There is no need to be so hard on myself. So, in honor of me not being irrationally hard on myself, here are a couple of pics of me. They're both pre-work-out. The top one is of me giving the treadmill a warning look. (Notice how much more intimidating I am when I look through my bangs. Treadmill, I am serious! And I have the bangs to prove it!) The bottom pic is what happens when I sleep with a humidifier four inches from my head. Obviously, I find morning hair highly amusing.

Happy B-Day Mother-In-Law

2007-02-15T07:08:00.000-05:00

"WHEN was the last time you saw a grown man with a large hickey?" Out of the blue. No warning. We're all sitting innocently in the living room, when this question rings out from the overstuffed chair beside the window.

Happy Birthday to the woman who undeniably raised my Husband. The woman who regularly tells me that she loves and appreciates me. The same woman who has let Husband and I take over a portion of her house while we figure out what the heck we're doing. Not only tolerating us, but cherishing the time that we are spending together under one roof.

Just so you know, I cherish it too. And though you've never pressured us, I promise that you'll be a Grandma, SOMEDAY. (Just not in the next 9 months.)

Happy Birthday to the woman who is unafraid to ask the hard questions. (When WAS the last time I saw a grown man with a large hickey?)

Forgot to Buy a Card? Just Start Your Own Blog.

2007-02-14T10:59:00.000-05:00

Husband,
Happy V-Day. I didn't get you a card. Had I planned better, I could have gotten a card late last week or last weekend, but now that we're snowed in (again) I am empty handed. There aren't many things less convincing than a card delivering my undying love and affection several days late. And seriously, all the good cards will be taken by the time I get to a store, and it'll just be an ugly sappy one that I'd never normally purchase and wouldn't come close to describing any actual feeling I've ever had for you. They say it's the thought that counts, but when you're a "Words of Encouragement" person, thoughts alone don't really do the trick. Unless! I put the thoughts down in a written form and let you (and the entire internet) read them.

It's hard to describe the depth of what I mean when I say I love you. I don't know any other languages, and that's kinda sad for several reasons but right now it's mostly sad because they say that there are other words out there that can better express romantic emotions. But I don't know any of them, so I'll continue wrestling within the constraints of the English language (American style) to write this.

This is our 6th Valentines Day together or 7th, I'm bad with numbers. We'd been dating like three weeks during our first V-Day. We'd been married a month and a half by the time the next one came around because I am a Man-Trap and you were intrigued by a girl from Southern Missouri who would spend a Saturday night watching an indy film about an old lady who discovers the wonders of pot. Since then, you've spent a big chunk of our life together putting up with my crap. And that has been no small task. Depression, anxiety, and despair are not easily navigated. You've created a very safe place in the world for me, and that place exists wherever and whenever the two of us are together. There really are no words to describe what that means to me. I am convinced that I have been able to move away from a lot of those feelings because you have been ever vigilant in reminding me that there is hope, beauty and that life can be good. I've never before believed that like I do right now.

I am so in love with you. You are my favorite. You are my best friend. There is no one I'd rather spend my life, or simply a moment with. I didn't really know what people meant when they said, five years ago, that our love would only grow. And while I don't want to wish time away, I cannot wait to feel what I will feel about you on our 25th or 50th V-Day together. It's hard to imagine feeling any stronger or deeper feelings for you, but I know I will because five years ago I didn't think that the feelings I have now were possible.

Thank you for being on this journey with me. Thank you for letting me/forcing me to walk parts of it alone, but not really alone. Thank you for warming up my side of the bed. Thank you for making me scrambled eggs. Thank you for letting me know how much I mean to you. Thank you for thinking and really truly believing that I'm awesome. Thank you for encouraging me to do things that I love. Thank you for tapping into the never empty keg of grace and mercy when dealing with Passive-Aggressive-Rude-Huffy-Slamming-Things-Around-Girl when I know you'd rather just tap into an actual keg. Thank you for not letting me get away with not being true to myself. Thank you for being you. You are my flavor.

~Wife

P.S. Unfortunately, the ninja claw and 32 oz. of wolf urine I ordered for you won't arrive for another day or two. They refuse to rush ship in this kind of weather.

I'm holding my breath for a copy of A Million Random Digits with 100,000 Normal Deviates or a subscription to Crappie World

2007-02-12T18:54:00.000-05:00

Only two days until the most important holiday in the first quarter of the calendar year. If you choose the Rush Shipping option, you can still get some of these items in time for the big day. Husband, I hope you're reading this...

Breakfast of Chumpions

2007-02-10T10:38:00.000-05:00

I overheard a commercial this morning for some children's cereal touting "strawberry flavored crunchlets." And after recovering from the shock of the word "crunchlet" my brain lurched back to the first part of that phrase, "strawberry flavored." How many kids experience strawberry "flavor" before they ever experience an actual strawberry? Who needs real strawberries when we've got crunchlets? Excuse me, I have to go to Whole Foods now.

The Cry of the Bleeding Heart

2007-02-07T16:36:00.000-05:00

I'm fresh off a line of social justice/consciousness raising movies, so readers beware. It's really not ok how we treat each other. Really not ok. Whether we're the ones actually doing the harm, or whether we're just watching it and ignoring it, it's not ok. As one of the characters in one of the movies I've seen recently says, "I'm tired of writing about victims, but it's all I can do." Well, quite frankly I'm tired of watching movies about victims. I'm tired of watching movies where in the end our collective conscious is quelled by the fact that the Peace corps made an appearance and we saw a plane drop some bags of rice, "so it's not like they're not getting helped." I'm tired of watching the nightly news intently, waiting for the 30 second clip about what's happening on the other side of the world that's been sandwiched between the Pet of the Week and the 10 Minute Weather Watch. I'm tired of feeling like there's nothing I can do but pray or send a check and some "gently used" clothing somewhere. Is that really all I can do? It's not ok how we treat each other. I do not have a solution for Africa, India, the rest of the world or even America. All I know is that it starts right here. Right now. It starts with me treating the people that I come into contact with on a daily basis (store clerks, waiters/waitresses, co-workers, strangers, people who don't look like they believe what I believe...) with respect and dignity. It starts with me really seeing people, not just looking in their general direction, but seeing them. It starts with me realizing that I am not the only one in the world who feels lonely, angry, stressed out, late for work, frustrated that things aren't going my way. It starts with me realizing that I am not the only one in the world.

Definitely don't watch any (or all) of these movies in conjunction with reading Shane Claiborne's book, The Irresistible Revolution or listening to any of Rob Bell's podcasts titled Calling All Peacemakers 1-3. Movies: Pan's Labyrinth, Sophie Scholl, The Last King of Scotland, Blood Diamond, Notes on a Scandal.

It starts with me. And it starts with you. Let's see where that gets us.

Blunt Force Cajones

2007-02-01T10:06:00.000-05:00

The following email conversation is one of the main reasons that I will continue blogging.

To: Jenna
From: Uncle Tom
Subject: Re: Blunt Force Creativity
Message: Read the email. - - - - - - - Read the Blog - - - - - - - You are absolutely nuts. - - - - - - - - - Maybe that's why I like you so much.
Uncle Tom

To: Uncle Tom
From: Jenna
Subject: Re: Re: Blunt Force Creativity
Message: that's fantastic. i love it. i am nuts. thanks for the validation. lots of people tell me what i want to hear, and you are one of the few who have the cajones to speak truth. maybe that's why i like you so much.

niece jenna

To: Jenna
From: Uncle Tom
Subject: Blunt Force Cajones
Message: I always get cajones when we go Mexican. Either that or a burrito. They are good with a little guacamole and sour cream (from cow's milk of course) on the side.

Your Always unabashed - Uncle T (aka Tio Cajones Loco)

CALLING ALL SAVVY BLOG READERS

2007-01-30T19:53:00.000-05:00

So, I'm blogging now. Blogging. I've joined the millions of other bloggers. I'll have you know, readers, that I am an original, except for all the ways in which I follow everyone else's lead and totally rip off other blogs. (That last line was so you can have a taste of the type of serious blogging that will go on here at No Doi.) SAVVY BLOG READERS will have noticed already that I opened this page in September 2006, and didn't post anything again until January 2007. And she calls herself a Blogger! Very good, SAVVY BLOG READERS, you are exactly the type of people I had hoped would read my very serious blog and never let me get away with the mediocrity that pervades the internet and so many of todays blogs. Well, let me explain a few things about myself. I do not like doing what everyone else does, and often when I see masses jumping on a Popular Bandwagon I will purposely jump on the Cynical Bandwagon just to be "different" (along with all the other people on the Cynical Bandwagon.) However, every now and then, I find myself staring at Popular Bandwagon (off in the distance, far, far from my perch atop Cynical Bandwagon) and I start to see that maybe Popular Bandwagon is popular for a good or interesting reason. Sometimes (read: rarely) I am right though, and Cynical Bandwagon all of a sudden becomes Popular Bandwagon because people see the errors of whatever it was that we over here on Cynical Bandwagon "like, have been trying to tell you was stupid." And, SAVVY BLOG READERS, I won't lie, when Cynical Bandwagon IS the place to be it makes me feel good (shallow, but good.) It's a bit of leverage for all the times that Popular Bandwagon was actually right. Like the time when I was collecting cow chips behind the "Soul Music Is Not Cool Bandwagon." And I had a whole bunch of other white people here to back me up on that. We knew it wasn't cool because we'd never listened to it! Once I realized that the cow chips I was gathering behind this particular Bandwagon were the hollow sounds of Soulless White Music (no examples necessary, if you can't think of one Soulless White Music example on your own, then no amount of blog reading will help you) I dropped them like the cow chips they are and stumbled my way to the tracks of the Soul Train. Don't get me wrong Soulless White Music still calls to me with it's syrupy-pop-over-produced vocals, and Oops! I Listen, Again.

So back to me being an original, free-thinker and the grand reasons why I should have my own blog and all... Basically, I like to write. And I tried for so long to figure out what my blogging gimmick would be, so that I could be taken seriously by all the SAVVY BLOG READERS. Finally I talked myself out of pursuing this thing because I'm not a "real" writer and I don't have any original blogging ideas, so why bother. And that's when it came to me:

1) I had to redefine my idea of "writer." I'm not a real writer only because I'm not writing. Writers aren't writers because they like the idea of writing, and they think about writing all the time. They're writers because they write things.

And as much as I need to take my own advice here in so many other areas of my life:
2) It's in the doing/trying/creating that I find myself and my answers. I somehow managed to get myself to a place where I no longer care whether or not I crank out some great masterpiece essay every time I post. (Watch for them though, I'll sneak 'em in...) Hopefully by writing more often, I'll start to see where it is my journey has been and maybe even start to figure out where it is going.

This is not a blog where the all answers will come easily. This is a blog where you will hear what goes on in my head. Sometimes it will be incoherent, other times it will be the pinnacle of brilliance. Mostly it will just be me, trying to create a little something so that my soul continues to seek reasons to dance.

P.S. I do not always use correct punctuation, grammar or sentence structure. My, use, of, commas, is, close, to, ridiculous. I am just. plain. wordy. I like to read my own blog. And I think I'm hilarious.

Say Whaaaaa?

2007-01-28T21:15:00.000-05:00

"...bursting forth from the BALLS OF HELL!"

cornhousehorsewaffleholeshoes

2006-09-21T13:29:00.000-04:00

There are certain things in life that we all refuse to do for ridiculous reasons. One of my ridiculous refusals for example, is that I refuse to ever eat at a Waffle House restaurant. I've never darkened the door of a Waffle House and it is one of my goals (however small) to never step foot inside one. So far avoiding "meals" at Waffle House restaurants has not yet been a terribly difficult achievement, but I'm afraid that those who must have invented Waffle House have now invented a game that is sweeping the country, or at least Northern Kentucky and Ohio. A game that I must now ridiculously refuse to play, the game of Cornhole. And here are my ridiculous reasons:

1) Cornhole ??? Seriously, I get that you throw bags of corn at wooden boxes with holes in it, but REALLY the best they could come up with was CORNHOLE?! I suppose it's kinda like Horse Shoes, but the reason they call it Horse Shoes instead of Horse Pole is perhaps because it's a bit less crude. With Horse Shoes, you understand that actual horse shoes play a role but you're not quite sure what else is involved until you attend a family reunion where, until Cornhole, Horse Shoes was largely played.

2) It's not a new idea. It's an easier version of an old game created by Horse Shoe fans that are getting older with the added security that if the grand kids run through the game, no one will be injured. There's also the new individually played version of Cornhole that most of us play every day. It's called Putting Garbage in the Garbage Can or you may know it by its shorter name Throwing Things Away. There aren't many rules and it's very difficult to lose.

I can hear my critics now telling me to loosen up because it's just a fun game. Maybe I should ease up a bit. Maybe I can't really "get" Cornhole until I play a rousing round or two. But isn't that a bit like saying that you can't "get" spandex until you wear it? Oh no, I "get" it, it just makes me uncomfortable.

And if you don't believe me, check these out:

www.americancornhole.com

www.playcornhole.org

My Little Brother is Awesome

2006-09-14T10:10:00.000-04:00

No, really, he's pretty great.

No Doi

We've Moved

Girls Have Eco-Shape

It's Official

Filed under PRO on the Should We Adopt? Scale

Questions They SHOULD Have Asked

The Other Reason I Married Him

26

Not as much fun as the Weather-Girls on Telemundo, but probably just as reliable.

Black Hawk Down

It's rare, but occasionally I question my own sanity.

My reaction to the 9th Grade Student Council Representative when she came to my office to make a delivery.

This is all I have to give

Happy Momma's Day

How I Wonder

The Reason I Married Him

Sleeping the Sleep of the Sleepy

How Wrong Is It If I Admit It Before You Call Me On It?

Diary of a Casual Professional

Who knew?

Click at your own risk

Typical

If My Cubical Walls Could Talk, They'd Sound Like This

Ead-ray Ice-tway

Supremo also means "Biggie Size"

Brain-glue, by the way, is NOT water soluble.

Things we discuss when we're alone...

Maybe for the yearbook, they will photoshop it zipped.

Spring Break '07 Shout Out

The Post Where She Talks About God

sKKKirt

Say Whaaaaa?

Cele-bray-chion

World Water Day

50 Things I Love, In No Particular Order

Under the Overpass

2 Reasons Why Goodwill is Awesome

Sponsored Links

also including lots of things inside parenthesis

Hey! That's Me!

Happy B-Day Mother-In-Law

Forgot to Buy a Card? Just Start Your Own Blog.

I'm holding my breath for a copy of A Million Random Digits with 100,000 Normal Deviates or a subscription to Crappie World

Breakfast of Chumpions

The Cry of the Bleeding Heart

Blunt Force Cajones

CALLING ALL SAVVY BLOG READERS

Say Whaaaaa?

cornhousehorsewaffleholeshoes

My Little Brother is Awesome